Blurb: This story explores our favourite characters' love story with more emphasis on their inner lives than on the action surrounding them. It starts in Kent just after Darcy's disastrous monologue proposal which affects Lizzy just differently enough to allow an actual conversation to take place between them. The action takes place in Kent and London so far and involves the usual supporting characters in those settings.

---

“Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed.” Vol II, Chapter XI (Chapter 34)

CHAPTER 1
“…how ardently I admire and love you.”

He had been speaking for some time, but her mind had been arrested at the incongruous collision of her understanding of reality, with the revelation of his remarkable sentiments.

He had said something about his struggles and the embarrassment of her connections (they had been embarrassing her for years so nothing new there) and of her fiduciary and social inferiority, while expressing tender and passionate inclinations which judgment, reason and duty could not overcome. She supposed she should be offended and angry about such statements and a part of her was, but at that moment she was preoccupied by the fact that he said he loved her. Ardently.

He had been conquered, somehow with no effort on her part. No effort is probably understating it for she had actively courted his disapprobation, had led her sharp mind and penchant for witticism against him whenever she was able. And he had spent months away from her company, being conquered by his memories of her.

Memories of impertinence, of open dissent and disagreement, of challenge and deflection, of attempts to demean and degrade his character, person and consequence at every opportunity. And yet, he had come to love her.

She could not possibly marry him. He was demonstrably out of his wits, and had she not always said she could not marry a man who was out of his wits?

His silence imposed itself upon her thoughts more than his surprising volubility. Who would have thought Mr Darcy capable of such garrulousness? Truly, this was the most she had ever heard him speak in the entirety of their acquaintance. How could her wit fail her now?

“Miss Bennet? Are you well?”

She blinked, the colour rising in her cheeks as she realised that she was unable to open her mouth to speak, as she had yet to close it from her astonishment. She studied the gloss finish of his leather boots as she collected her thoughts.

“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned.” She paused and lifted bemused eyes to his composed and expectant face. “But I do not know how I can…” She saw her own confusion and doubt reflected in his countenance, his confidence ebbing away. “I, I am sorry, but I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however…”

“Unequally returned? You have never desired my good opinion? Do you mean that you have not been expecting my addresses? You have not been encouraging my attentions here in Kent?” It was his turn to be slack-jawed.

“Indeed, Mr Darcy, I had no notion you had been spending any time thinking of me in such a way. I have clearly completely misunderstood your character in every way possible if I am to believe the sincerity of your words today. Did you think I welcomed your silent attendance upon my every conversation, or during my rambles in the park? I expressly told you it was my favourite walk in the full expectation that you would avoid meeting me there in future! When we met repeatedly thereafter, I confess I had assumed you accompanied me to silently condemn or find fault with me, as I assumed you were doing every other time you glared at me when we were in company.”

She paused to consider the words she had just spoken. “That does seem singular now that I say it out loud… but really, what else was I supposed to think as you had clearly withstood my personal charms early on. Well, I thought you had.” She stood and shook off the perplexing quandary and went on, recalling now the reasons for her disapprobation of everything related to Mr Darcy.

“You have impressed me from the very first moments of our acquaintance as a most arrogant and unfeeling man, directing your affairs with scant regard for the feelings of others, including those who are your declared friends.” As she spoke, she saw the moment the incongruity of his expectations collided with her unexpected revelations. A part of her that was still reeling from that collision softened in empathy, but her words marched on.

“This insufferable pride, exposed as it was at the Assembly, and further confirmed in every interaction I witnessed, every pronouncement of Miss Bingley, as well as the particulars of your history with Mr Wickham! Not to mention that you have crowed about deliberately ruining the hopes of a most beloved sister and reduced a childhood friend under your family’s protection to a state of comparative poverty for reasons that I am incapable of comprehending!

You have spoken of an ardent love that has overcome all other objections, including my merely tolerable person that was not handsome enough to tempt you, but you have clearly failed to grasp how my understanding of your character is the greatest objection of all! Think you that your handsome face, inherited estate and ten thousand a year are enough to overcome these objections?”

She had begun pacing during this speech, gesturing her acrimony, her agitation making her eyes flash in exactly the way that had always discomposed him. He was helplessly tracking her movements across the carpet, completely in her power and only just beginning to understand how precariously his position, and his heart, were thus placed.

He sank to the nearest chair in a dignified approximation of shame and attempted to reorder his thoughts into some semblance of coherence. All this time she had not been flirting with him, had not perceived that his debates with her indicated the height of his respect for her lively mind, her inveterate wit, her independent spirit. Not to mention her fine eyes.

She had not spent the intervening months thinking of him longingly or even wistfully, but rather cursing him expansively for his part in her sister’s apparent heart break and a blackguard’s impoverished circumstances. Where should he begin?

“You overheard me?”

Well, that was as good a place as any, he supposed.

---

CHAPTER 2
“I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to your’s… ”

She turned from her pacing and seemed startled to see him seated. “I beg your pardon?” Darcy’s voice was distant and strained. “You overheard me, at the assembly. I said something unpardonably rude to Bingley at the assembly. I barely even looked at you that night, to my regret. I just wanted Bingley to stop harassing me. I was in no humour to-”

“-give consequence to young ladies who were slighted by other men?” He flinched, and she was almost ashamed to have mentioned it, especially given the eloquence of his recent passionate praise of her, but that is where he chose to begin. She would not make it easy for him.

“If that is not an abominably arrogant thing to say, I don’t know what is. I am not without some pride of my own you know. I mean, I even said to Charlotte, while she was defending your confounded pride, I could easily forgive yours if you had not mortified mine!”

“Mrs Collins had occasion to defend my pride?”

“Well, yes, though she was Miss Lucas at the time.”

“She defended my pride in Hertfordshire?”

“She was attempting to explain to me why your pride was excusable because you are handsome, well-connected and wealthy. She also told me at the Netherfield Ball that I ought not to let my fancy for Wickham lead me to slight a man ten times his consequence. She clearly understands your value in the marketplace. Given the way things have worked out for her, I suspect she might have wished to wait for my next rejected suitor before claiming Mr Collins!”

Elizabeth coloured violently as she realised what she had just let slip and who owned the room in which she was currently standing. “Let us not belabour the point. Given what has transpired this evening it is fairly obvious you no longer think me barely tolerable –

“No, I, indeed, it has been many months since I have considered you one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance, Miss Bennet.” Darcy was insistent here. “Not to mention the most intelligent. That evening, my mind had been unable to shift from the state of agitated melancholy it had found itself in, and I probably ought not to have allowed Bingley to persuade me to attend.” He grimaced ruefully at the memory. “Had I stayed behind however, Miss Bingley would almost certainly have stayed with me. It was the lesser of two evils, but that you became the object of my misplaced anger, is not lesser at all. Forgive me. Forgive me.” His insistence gave way to earnest entreaty.

Having witnessed just how tenacious Miss Bingley’s attentions could be, she was mistress enough of her own emotions to recognise amusement at his expense while fully comprehending the rock and hard place he had been placed between. She was sensible of the compliment he had bestowed upon her, and her generous heart forgave him instantly, but she was not yet ready to tell him. He looked away from her and continued on a sigh.

“Your sister. I thought I had been kinder to Bingley than myself, but as this interview has made abundantly clear, I ought not to be trusted to ascertain the feelings of any young lady. Was her heart truly engaged? I could not see that her heart was truly moved by Bingley’s attentions. She seemed as serene and pleased with any gentleman’s attention! She was not merely being a dutiful daughter to her mother’s ambitious machinations?”

He gathered steam here as he considered his reasons behind his advice to his friend. “Further, there were so many examples of impropriety in the conduct of your mother, your sisters and even your father, forgive me, but you know of what I speak. I saw your embarrassment myself when we were in company. I saw how you attempted to deflect and distract whenever your mother spoke. It is some consolation surely that you and your sister in no way conduct yourselves to receive any share of the like censure. But for Bingley to suffer a marriage of unequal affection, as well as the affliction of inferior connections whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath…” He caught the thought before it was completed but the meaning and import regarding his own proposal was clear. There was contrition, disbelief and accusation mixed in his words and she chose to respond to the disbelief, as she could not argue with the accusation and did not want to listen to the contrition.

“Did you ever stop to consider that had Jane been a party to our mother’s schemes of matrimony, your dilemma would not have been to question the existence of her affections, but rather more to question their sincerity? Surely her modest nature belies your fears that she was mercenary in her attempts to win him! Jane’s modesty did not allow you to see it, but her heart was deeply engaged, and she has not been the same since he left.” Elizabeth’s gaze was incredulous until she noted his swallow of contrition and his abject misery at her words. He lifted his dark eyes to hers, clouded in introspection, and seemed to gaze beyond her, pondering her words.

“That is logical and as her sister I must trust your account. Though I never thought Jane was mercenary, just unaffected. And knowing Bingley’s desire for equal affection in matrimony, it seemed my duty to advise him that she may accept him for reasons other than mutual regard.”

He paused, running a hand through his dark locks and disarranging them so thoroughly they fell about his furrowed brow. Elizabeth told herself she did not notice. He was speaking almost to himself now, seemingly at ease and unaware of his posture, resting his chin on his knuckles while his thumbs absently stroked his cravat to expose and worry his Adam’s apple. She sank to the ottoman opposite his seat and regarded him silently. He continued to speak, appearing not to have noticed her movement.

“I believed myself to be impartial, but perhaps I wished for my own sake that I could extricate us both before my heart was irrevocably lost also. However, in that I appear to have failed spectacularly.”

His short bark of laughter turned to an expression of unmistakable sorrow that moved her more than any of his heartfelt speeches. His hands covered his face, kneading his brow and temple. That he ardently admired and loved her was one thing. That he so rapidly credited her assertions was something else altogether. How could this be? Who is this man? Lowering his hands, she watched as he gazed at his interlocked fingers and began twirling his signet ring.

“I can address my failings there, though perhaps I cannot fully undo what I have done since many months have passed. It may be remedied, such that at least one man may not suffer from my misapprehensions.”

“Mr Darcy, I had no idea you would respond in such a way, but I appreciate the sentiments and the conviction that underlies them. I could not impose expectations of their further felicity upon your honour. If you can remove the obstacle of your misapprehension, then the future outcome can and must depend on them alone.”

Elizabeth had not intended to slight him by her approval of his sentiments. She could not help being surprised, mired as she still was, in the before and after of her understanding of the handsome and taciturn man before her.

He shook his head sadly as he leant back into the seat and glanced upward in a gesture of divine supplication. “No, of course you would not expect it. You think me devoid of any proper feeling. Such has been the impression of me begun by myself and nurtured, no doubt, by others.” He raised his hand to forestall her objection. “Miss Bennet, if you would give me a moment to marshal my resources. Your anger is justifiable, but I know your justice will pardon me the freedom to demand your attention for a few minutes more. I may not have another opportunity.” He leant towards her again but did not raise his eyes to her. In the space of a dozen breaths she did not realise she was counting, he began to speak.

“I know not in what manner or under what form of falsehood Mr Wickham has imposed on you, so I can only refute his accusations by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. If you require proof of its veracity, I can summon Colonel Fitzwilliam, in whose character you may more likely be confident.”

Elizabeth had been absently admiring his hands (strong, lean, well formed - when had she ever noticed the shape of anyone’s hands?), his eyes, (the deepest cerulean blue like the night sky at dusk), his hair (thick, clean, and probably smooth to the touch), and his inadvertently exposed throat. He really was quite handsome. She had raised her hand to her own throat, unconsciously mirroring the direction of her thoughts, when she realised he had begun to speak of Wickham.

Darcy had her full attention now, but her mind, having been more agreeably engaged on the rather more pleasing aspects of his person than she had heretofore allowed, was more inclined to be well-disposed toward him now, than when she had first mentioned Mr Wickham.

She had the sense to feel guilty about that, if fleetingly, before all coherent thought fled her mind.

---

CHAPTER 3
“..acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr Wickham.”

He had recounted his association with Wickham in halting, clipped sentences. Much of what he related was familiar and she nodded as he spoke, but then he mentioned vicious propensities, licentiousness, and unprincipled behaviour, all scrupulously hidden from his benefactor. (Well, surely these could be misunderstandings or the reckless nature of youth, she thought to herself.)

He spoke of a valuable living and preferment in the church which were refused and compensated accordingly (3000 pounds plus a legacy - this was suspiciously missing from Wickham’s tale, but again, maybe there is another less perfidious explanation for his current state of penury).

Darcy had not finished. He was refused his second application of the living when the incumbent died three years later (perhaps Wickham had seen the error of his ways and was resolved to take orders and shepherd a flock away from experienced debauchery) and in outraged resentment, likely equal to the state of his financial distress, led him last summer, to form a desperate scheme of such heartless infamy against Darcy’s own beloved sister, who was but 15 years old. She was rescued just upon the point of ruin and has yet to fully recover her spirits or her confidence, even months later. Wickham and the traitorous companion were removed.

Mortification and shame held her rigid on her stool. Her countenance had dropped from his face to gaze at a point on the floor before her eyes had closed. The only discernible movement was the tear that slid slowly from beneath her lowered lashes and traced a path along her nose to spill silently on to her skirt.

Silence followed his recitation. He had not been able to look at her during his speech. Each word he uttered, wrung from a ruthlessly controlled voice, thickened with emotion and bridled fury, brought her closer to understanding herself. Her heart never doubted his honesty, but her vanity was relentless in its pursuit of self-justification. This cannot be, it whispered to her horrified heart, this must be the grossest falsehood! I could not be so wrong!

Darcy had closed his eyes on his final words, his anger at Wickham’s perfidy, at his own misjudgements, at his reckless abandonment of propriety and duty to his family, all gave way to an emptiness he did not believe it was possible to feel. He looked up as though from the bottom of a well and gazed at the unmoving rock upon which his hopes had been dashed only minutes ago.

Had it only been minutes ago? His words seemed to echo in the silence between them and for the first time in his life, he did not know what to do. He could not trust his discernment as he had misjudged everything he thought he knew and loved about her. Did he know her at all? Was she a fantasy he conjured up after five seasons of never finding any woman who could measure up, who could give him the kind of marriage he had witnessed growing up and which he had grieved, almost as much as his father and without any consolation, upon his mother’s death, at the tender age of eleven?

She could no longer bear the oppression of her own inner turmoil. She rose abruptly and began pacing as the shadows lengthened in the room. She was distantly aware of the maid moving in another part of the house, whistling as she went about her work, baffled as to how the rest of the world could just continue as it was before.

Darcy silently watched her, wondering what she was thinking, if she still despised him. Her words taunted him, spoken almost with the same lightness she had always challenged him with. Light, precise, witty barbs which he parried or acknowledged with delight, ever growing her in his esteem. What was he to do with her words now? She had not rejected him, or at least she did not know how to accept him. He was not even her first rejected suitor, if he had understood her epithet and her embarrassment correctly.

This conversation had begun as a proposal of marriage that he had never doubted would be successful. Now he feared that this was all the answer he would ever receive from her. He had wounded her from even before their first meeting. His words at the time were hasty, ill-judged, and not even clever. Dare he hope that the lady doth protest too much? He could rely on precious few of his senses so he continued to watch her pace, face hidden but obviously agitated, and wondered if he should just slip away.

She paused at the mantle and reached out her hand to support herself, almost as if the world itself had tilted and she needed some physical reassurance of her relative position. The tears slipped past her outraged vanity, still refusing to accept what she had just heard, but unable to mount a refutation or even suggest a rebuttal! She knew she had to speak, had to bring this calamitous interview to a close.

Still gripping the mantle like a lifeline, she dashed away the tears before she turned to face him. He had risen to his full height behind her, and she was momentarily startled at his proximity. Raising her gaze from his feet to his eyes, his passionate proposal came flooding into her mind and overwhelmed her senses as she looked up at him. His hand was resting on the mantle, and she focused on it as she released her own to turn fully towards him.

He could not but have compassion. His broken heart was mirrored in her eyes. Her eyes wept his tears. Was she grieving Wickham? He could not know, and he could not offer the comfort he craved to give and receive from her. He had wounded her with his misplaced love, his unwanted proposal, his unvarnished truth. Again, he was alone and without consolation. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, tentatively offering it to her. She took it, dried her tears and pressed the soft linen to her swollen eyes and cheeks. She took a deep breath, lowered her hands and opened her eyes.

They looked at one another almost as strangers. Both knew they had been operating under some kind of delusion and wondered where they could go from here, if there was even anything left to say.

“Miss Bennet-”

“Mr Darcy-”

They had both spoken at once, faltered and continued to stare at one another. They both spoke again.

“Forgive me for distressing you, there was no other way to undo -“

“How can this be, how is this possible?”

Darcy answered her question, ignoring his plea for forgiveness. “Colonel Fitzwilliam knows all the particulars, I will find a way for you to ask him whatever you wish, and I can send to Pemberley for the relevant documents relating to the living…”. Elizabeth reached toward him to interrupt his flow.

“You misunderstand me, Mr Darcy. I am not miserable because I do not believe you. I am merely astonished at how easily the truth makes his lies so obvious, that my own heart could be so deceived and refuse to question any of his words. A simpleton could have raised reasonable objections, could have seen the inconsistencies between his words and his behaviour!” These words were spoken with such flow and rapidity that it seemed she drew breath for the first time here. She closed her eyes and pressed the folded linen square to her eyes again.

“It is not you who should be asking forgiveness Mr Darcy. I should be begging yours. I am overwhelmed and unable to think coherently. I need time to think. I am aware that people lie, and foul deeds are committed in broad daylight everywhere, I am not such a simpleton, but these revelations have somehow rent me asunder and I do not know what I am about.” Her tears had begun to flow again, and he did not know if any attempt to comfort her would be well received.

“Miss Bennet, please do not burden yourself with undue blame. Wickham is a practiced deceiver, you had no reason to doubt his claims, and many reasons to question my character. I had hoped you were expecting my proposal, I was convinced you would not refuse me. I am as in the dark as you as to how to proceed.”

“Mr Darcy, you came here with a purpose, I gave you no clear answer and then importuned you with castigations on your character and private affairs which were based on slanderous falsehoods. I am no longer in any state to know my own heart, my mind or my character. I would ask you for time, but perhaps I should also offer you the opportunity to change your mind. I would not hold it against you, how could I after how I have behaved? I am sorry if my behaviour has given rise to expectations - it was most unconsciously done, my impertinent remarks and caustic wit were not designed to win your affection. That they may have done so gives me as much to think on as the rest of our conversation, as I attempt to rearrange the sketch of your character I thought I had already fixed. But before that I must examine my own, for I am grieved to discover it is wanting in the extreme.”

She lifted her eyes to his again, no longer weeping, but unfocused and turned inward, her brow furrowed, his handkerchief curled beneath her fingers as she absently bit her thumb. She was as lovely and desirable as before, and he did not want to give up his chance to claim her as his own. “I do not wish to change my mind or my offer, Miss Elizabeth. I am willing to give you time. As much time as you need if there is any chance you will favour me. You have given me much to think on also. I will seek you in the grove tomorrow morning if you are willing. I was intending to leave Kent in the next few days, I know you are soon for London, I do not know how long you need, but I would wish to be near you, to be available if I may, for however long you need to decide.”

“You are proving yourself more generous than I am able to comprehend, sir. I thank you. My offer still stands, Mr Darcy. If the reflections from this evening should cause you to change your sentiments, I will not hold you to them.”

---

CHAPTER 4
“..she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before.”

He left. He bowed to her, left her standing by the mantle clutching his handkerchief, unable to look at him. The sky darkened considerably before she moved a muscle as the shock of their conversation made its presence felt in every fibre of her being.

How despicably have I acted! I, who have prided myself on my discernment, who have valued myself on my abilities, who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister - dear Jane, oh dear Jane, how I need you! Curse my abominable vanity, my pride! It is so humiliating, this wicked, indulgent blindness! Had I been in love, I could not have been so wretchedly blind!

She had always known where the greatest measure of blame should fall regarding her beloved heartbroken sister. All their future genteel poverty, the machinations of a disingenuous pair of sisters and the collusion of a well-intentioned friend could have mattered little but for the contemptible conduct of her nearest relations. Perhaps Jane’s modesty and complacent manner could share some culpability but in truth, Bingley’s generous heart would not have had to weather much of a storm if Jane’s family were not so public in their impropriety.

Jane could not have been so beautiful for nothing, it is true, but did the deck have to be stacked quite so heavily against her? What hope was there for the rest of her sisters? She took comfort and thought long of the compliment Mr Darcy had paid to her and Jane, in his words, but also in his proposal. That he was willing to overlook for her, what he had counselled Bingley to flee from! But there again, she had misjudged him. It was not their inequality of consequence or civility, but his belief in their inequality of affection that carried the day. He was officious and high-handed, to be sure, but when you were accustomed to directing the affairs of all those around you, and you were assured of being right all of the time…

And then there was Wickham! What was she to make of his descent! That Caroline Bingley’s words would come back to her now and make a mockery of her own ill-judged prejudice against Mr Darcy. To have so vociferously defended the indefensible! She could not bear to think long in this vein, this much self-reproach was dangerous all at once.

She had been perusing Jane’s letters in that lifetime before Darcy’s proposal. Conscious of the passing time and cognisant of the fact that she would not wish to be seen by her returning hosts, she collected her letters and made her way to her room.

She sank into the little seat before the writing desk and laid out her letters from Jane. She could not write to Jane of this, she did not know where to begin, so after a moment’s vacant repose, she rose and began to pace. She barely noticed the entrance of the maid with a simple dinner tray received with thanks and eaten automatically. She sat in silence until the tray was cleared and accepted assistance to prepare for bed. Her washstand was refilled, and she began her nightly toilette.

Dressed for bed and wearing a shawl for warmth she sat again and contemplated the room without seeing anything before her. She moved to the window and stared blankly through it. The candle was dangerously low and she was shrouded in darkness as she was shrouded in her silent contemplation. Her hosts returned and assumed from the silence and darkness in her room that she was already abed and did not disturb her. Just as the candle was about to fail, she blinked rapidly, seized the new candlestick from her bedside and lighting it from the dimming wick, replaced it at her table. Reaching for a clean sheet of paper, she dipped her quill and began to write.

---

CHAPTER 5
“A report of a most alarming nature reached me..”


Elizabeth woke with a start, her fingers curled around the folded missive she had finished in the early hours of the morning and hidden under her pillow while she slept. She could not trust to fate the words she had committed to paper, so she had hidden them beneath her pillow, once she had sanded and sealed them, and then lain down completely spent. She was asleep in seconds.

It was still early, by the grey light filtering in behind the curtains and from the silence that enveloped the house around her. She drew out the letter and thought of the man she had written to. She was not in love with him, any more than she was in love with Wickham. She was not blind to his attractions, this much was clear, this much she had admitted to in her letter, which had poured out of her and of which she was slightly embarrassed. She knew why she had written them. She had been moved by his declarations, and even if she could not respond with equal regard, she realised that she had noticed many things about him during their acquaintance and had been affected by them. She had been affected by Wickham’s personal charms also, but she knew herself well enough to realise that her jealousy and ire had not been raised when Wickham transferred his attentions to Mary King. She had been all practicality and grace where he was concerned, and she realised that said something about the state of her heart. Toward him she had been kinder even than toward Charlotte! She was not willing to acknowledge just yet what it meant about her feelings for Darcy, but she also wanted to be honest with him. She had been affected by him in a way no other man had ever been able to achieve, and she believed he deserved her unvarnished truth in return, regardless of his current sentiments.

She rolled over, feeling the letter between her palm and the pillow beneath her head, and considered Darcy as impassively as she could. He was a serious man of consequence. Reserved, and aloof, steady in manner and in principle. She had only rarely seen him betray a dishonourable gesture and she was willing to let that incident go in favour of the mounting evidence that he was otherwise a good man.

The fault he conceded to, that of implacable resentment, was not borne out entirely either. He had apparently changed his mind about her, after all. And his faults of temper, arrogance, and social reserve? Well, they might be softened and redirected by a lively companion. She no longer wondered at his close relationship with Bingley, it made perfect sense, as did his relationship with the Colonel. Both gregarious, honourable men who respected and loved him like a brother. She thought fleetingly of his sister, wondering if she was proud and haughty or if Wickham had misled her again. Her eyelids closed once again on these not altogether unhappy musings.

She awoke later to a knock at the door. Charlotte was enquiring if she was well and whether she wanted breakfast or a cup of tea. Elizabeth dressed and went downstairs, feeling better for the extra two hours she had slept, but she declined breakfast, declaring she needed some fresh air and exercise. Mr Collins was satisfied after she complimented the woods around Rosings and continued his repast with no further comment. Elizabeth made her way from the room surreptitiously checking and adjusting the letter hidden under her left sleeve.

She stopped short upon seeing and hearing the arrival of Lady Catherine, who had entered the parsonage without announcement, loudly declaring her own presence and demanding the attention of the entire household. It was far too early for callers, and the surprised maid had rushed from above stairs to meekly direct Lady Catherine to the breakfast parlour. Both paused upon seeing Elizabeth.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Lady Catherine swelled to her fullest extent and glowered as she spoke.

Mr Collins had rushed from the table and in his haste to formally greet his patroness had pushed Elizabeth forward as she was curtseying. Regaining her balance awkwardly, she gripped the letter that slipped into her palm and discreetly tucked it away as she continued her low curtsey, partly to give her time to compose herself and partly because she knew Lady Catherine had not stopped looking at her.

“Mr Collins, I have no need of you. I wish to request the favour of Miss Elizabeth’s company this morning. I would take a walk with you, Miss Bennet, if you would oblige me.”

“Of course, Lady Catherine.” This was said to her back as Lady Catherine had already turned and swept from whence she came. Elizabeth stole a look at the startled, confused, and gratified Mr Collins, nodded her goodbye and followed Lady Catherine out the door.

They had crossed the road and passed beyond the palings of Rosings Park, when Lady Catherine took a side path which took them through to trimmed hedges and verdant lawns at once adjacent to the mansion but hidden by a tall stone wall. The walk gave Elizabeth time to compose herself. This was not the interview she had been expecting this morning. She entered a manicured garden that was an imposing and private space, meticulously designed and tended. Lady Catherine began to speak, dignified, unhurried and ruthlessly purposeful.

"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason I have sought you out. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why it is so."

Elizabeth was genuinely bewildered. Knowing Darcy even as little as she felt she did, it was not possible for her to believe that he had already spoken of his failed proposal to his aunt!

“Indeed, you are mistaken madam. I am not at all able to account for the honour of your company.”

“You ought to know by now that I am not to be trifled with. However insincere you may choose to be, you will not find me so. Sincerity and frankness have ever been celebrated characteristics of mine, so I shall not depart from them. I am aware that my nephew, Mr Darcy, sought a private interview with you last evening, while you feigned being indisposed and were unable to take tea with us.” Elizabeth was silent. “He was seen by my footman entering the Parsonage gate and upon returning sometime later, refused to leave his rooms for the rest of the evening.” Seeing no need to reply to this, Elizabeth calmly regarded her ladyship and waited.

“I demand to know if he came to speak to you and of what you spoke, Miss Bennet!”

“And under what obligation am I to accede to your demand, Lady Catherine?”

Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Bennet, I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”

“Then as his nearest relation, perhaps you should demand that he answer your questions. He may be willing to oblige you.”

“I would make my feelings known to you first. I hoped to find you reasonable and grateful for the attentions you have received at Rosings, attentions far exceeding your station and expectations!”

“I would hope that most would find me very reasonable, and indeed, I am very grateful for the honour bestowed upon me while I have been visiting with my dear friend and cousin. Neither of these truths in any way oblige me to respond according to your ladyship’s wishes.”

Lady Catherine gestured to nearby garden benches. "Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”

"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me.” Elizabeth’s temper was beginning to rise, but her courage rose equally with every attempt to intimidate.

“Do not interrupt me, I have seen your arts and allurements work upon him, making him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family! I have seen you draw him in! In a moment of infatuation… although it must be impossible! I must be satisfied - did he make you an offer of marriage?”

“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”

"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason.”

“Mr Darcy strikes me as eminently reasonable, so you may depend on that, Lady Catherine, when you take these impertinent questions to him. I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”

"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what have you to say?"

“Lady Catherine, this conversation has taken a most unexpected turn! Do you often solicit private interviews with single females of Mr Darcy’s acquaintance, for the purpose of acquiring or revealing details of his private affairs? I would offer my congratulations to you but I wonder at the connubial felicity to be expected in a marriage where one party is suspected of flouting honour so indiscreetly as to propose marriage to one woman, while being engaged to another. Much as Mr Darcy strikes me as a rather taciturn and disagreeable man, I did not think him capable of quite such dishonourable conduct.” At least, not anymore , she thought to herself.

"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends -- to his tacit engagement with Miss De Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say, that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?”

"Yes. But what is that to me? I am as you say, a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! My pretensions, claims or otherwise can have no effect on any of these circumstances, and I implore you again to take your concerns to Mr Darcy, who is the only one under any serious obligation to respond.”

Lady Catherine rose and moved toward her, employing her most imperial demeanour to ask the one question she needed Elizabeth to answer.

"Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him?"

Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a moment's deliberation, "I am not, though I am curious to know what part of our conversation led you to think I might be.”

She held her gaze and saw Lady Catherine visibly relax.

"And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?"

"I will make no promise of the kind.”

Elizabeth spoke as she rose from her seat, raised her eyes and levelled the full force of her courage and dignity in her slow and measured reply.

“Lady Catherine, the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. In laying out your personal family history, you have done little but impugn Mr Darcy’s character as well as my own. To what end? You do not wish me to marry your nephew. I have admitted nothing, but if I were to be so inclined, I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable as to refuse to marry a man simply because you wish it.

Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise, make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be affected by such arguments as these.

Furthermore, you have no right to concern yourself in my private affairs. I am determined to act only in a manner which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me. If your nephew approves of your interference in his affairs, you had best make your applications to him. I have nothing else to say to you. You must fully comprehend my sentiments. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject.”

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

Being unwilling to dissemble immediately about the nature of her conversation with Lady Catherine with any of the inhabitants of the Parsonage, Elizabeth walked as fast as dignity would allow away from Rosings until she knew her path would take her to her favourite lanes and walks in the woods. She bent her steps towards the grove. The day was fine, and she was in need of nature’s ebullience to soothe her troubled spirits.

---

CHAPTER 6
“There is something a little stately in him to be sure…”


Fitzwilliam Darcy had slept little and greeted the dawn completely out of favour with the world and everything in it. He was once completely sure of who he was, the nature of the world he lived in and his place in it. He knew he was not perfect, but he believed he was essentially good. He had been a dutiful son and was as dutiful a nephew as he could be to his last living relations. He was a loving brother, who despite the almost disastrous events last summer, enjoyed an open and easy relationship with his sister, even though he had almost raised her. He enjoyed an excellent brotherly relationship with his cousin, Richard, who shared guardianship of Georgiana and in whose counsel, he had the utmost faith.

He was a generous master and landlord, though he had exacting standards and would brook no fool or sluggard in his employ or on his lands for any longer than it took him to recognise them, but this was for the ultimate benefit of the land and the people who were his responsibility. He had maintained good relationships with his workers, his tenants and the various smaller freehold landowners that were part of and surrounded his estate. He encouraged his tenants to work hard, live prudently and improve their properties for his own benefit as well as theirs. He valued discipline, honour and integrity, charity, probity and faithfulness in himself and others. Was he capable of showing these attributes beyond his own circle?

That he had developed a forbidding temperament and uniformly low regard for society’s grasping elements and inane conversation could hardly be surprising. He had been holding off the onslaught of vapid facsimiles of eligible suitresses single-handedly since he was two and twenty. His position, income and property as the Master of Pemberley made him exceedingly eligible, without any reference to his person or character. He knew he was handsome enough, but who he was, his tastes, his interests, his mind, were largely irrelevant to society. It became increasingly impossible for him to distinguish or even determine who, if any, amongst his new acquaintances, would esteem him for himself, and not just for his privilege or his pocketbook.

He had been unable to find a single woman of virtue during his seasons in London who could interest him beyond her physical attributes, her family name, or her dowry. Which usually didn’t interest him at all. Once established, usually in the first 30 seconds of the introduction, he rarely had to converse for more than another 30 seconds to determine that they were no longer worthy of further effort. Perhaps he had become cynical, but after the third season, they all started looking and sounding the same. They just kept getting younger.

He rolled over and stared unseeing at the overly ornate detailing in the panels above his head. He had garnered a reputation as forbidding, exacting and dismissive because he could no longer tolerate the endless sameness of them all. He tried once or twice, when he detected something of interest in the unexpected turn of a countenance, or an interesting expression, or a particularly attractive face or figure. The interest waned before the end of the first dance, when he gave up attempting to elicit a response that he could not anticipate or had not heard before. He knew at his heart he was a romantic. He longed for the love he saw between his parents, the ease and comfort of complementary partners in life. His romantic heart had exulted in the knowledge that his father remained constant to the memory of his beloved wife, even though it was to cost him materially in a more distant relationship with his father and, he believed, his early death. He knew it was not rational to die for love, and the cost borne by those left behind; specifically, himself and his baby sister were no laughing matter, but he knew he couldn’t settle for a lukewarm approximation of all that a marriage of true minds could be. He did not need to marry, and he would not choose to marry, for less.

He understood infatuation and lust, had felt its effects at Cambridge, as a youth unschooled and untutored in the feminine arts. That he had not succumbed to the worst of the degradations and dissipations that wealth and consequence could buy him, he must thank Wickham for. He was glad to be so obviously and diametrically opposite to his erstwhile companion. It had not been the work of many years crossing the bridge from boyhood to maturity to clarify the gulf that existed between them.

He had never thought meanly of Wickham because of the status to which he was born, they had been raised like brothers. He had loved Wickham and felt responsible for him. His father’s indulgence had encouraged entitlement and indolence, but his wicked propensities could not be laid at his father’s door. Neither could they be fully laid at the feet of his “low birth”. Wickham’s father was an excellent man, a working man, well-educated and with a respectable profession and reputation, while his mother, gently born but poorly raised, had the meanness of character, dissipation, and extravagance that indulgence amplified in her son.

Wickham’s propensities to indulge in the sins of the flesh, his wanton disregard for the consequences to both the women and his progeny were the most egregious vices to Darcy. He saw his sister reflected in these women, and he chose to make them his responsibility also, supporting them and shielding them from the worst effects of Wickham’s profligacy. The misuse of a man’s position and physical power against any and all women was abhorrent to Darcy. His shame at shielding Georgiana from Wickham’s vices, thereby making her vulnerable to him, is equal only to his relief at the providence which allowed him to rescue her before it was too late.

Wickham had derisively named him The Monk in his first year at Cambridge and he had revelled in the clear distinction between them, throwing himself into his studies, determined to be every bit the responsible landed gentleman that his father had raised him to be. He had known physical desire of course, had felt it’s fire course through his veins at the sight of a beautiful woman, but he had never been overcome and could never bring himself to act upon it as a base instinct alone. His honour would not allow it, but neither would his desire. He wanted more than the carnal physical release. Until he met Elizabeth, he had never felt his heart, his mind and his flesh fully engaged by the same woman. She had become intoxicating to all of his senses, because she had challenged his mind, engaged his intellect, enchanted his heart, until he was overriding his filial duty, brushing aside any notion of social propriety and utterly unmaking his reason and his character. If he could only get her to accept him!

Griggs tapped lightly on his door and Darcy rose as he bid him enter. He started upon seeing his master’s pitiful appearance and Darcy forestalled his remonstrance with a raised hand, which then curled behind his head as he stretched to ease the stiffness in his frame. “I know Griggs, I have slept poorly, and you will have your work cut out for you today to make me fit to be seen.”

“Sir, Lady Catherine has requested your presence at breakfast. Shall I send for a tray in your rooms instead?”

“Excellent notion, I do not wish to see her ladyship this morning Griggs and certainly not before I have fortified my depleted reserves. Coffee, Griggs, and my usual breakfast. Do you think you could supervise the brewing this morning? I fear I will need a strong cup”.

Once dressed and breakfasted, Fitzwilliam Darcy, the Master of Pemberley and his own destiny for lo these five years, deigned to ask his valet if he knew the exact location of his aunt before he ventured to step from his chambers. Having established her absence, he still took the long way from his rooms and exited Rosings from a side entrance.

It deposited him directly along the path Colonel Fitzwilliam was ambling along, just returning from the stables after a morning ride. He limped slightly, the exercise having exacerbated the leg wound that had brought him home the previous year. He smiled mischievously. “Got the Morbs, eh Darce?” He did not bother to wait for a reply. “I don’t know what you are playing at, cousin, but she is in high dudgeon with you since your disappearing act last night. Been muttering all morning about footmen lurking about telling tall tales, all manner of improprieties, your inability to do your duty to the family, leaving Anne in marital limbo, some nonsense about improper attentions courting the society of people in trade - I think she was talking about Bingley’s sister, Constance or whatever her name is. She is out of her mind if she thinks you will offer for her! I’ve only seen you in company with her twice and even I could tell you were gritting your teeth every time she simpered in your direction, which was every time she opened her mouth. I know Bingley’s a nice enough chap, but why do you put up with it? Well, anyway, it would all be deuced mortifying if it wasn’t so hilarious. Where on earth does the Dragon get these ideas?”

Darcy sighed heavily. He was not prepared to disabuse any notions raised by his cousin unless and until he could do it with news worthy of congratulations. “I do not know how much clearer I can be regarding Anne, Richard. Is it necessary for me to declare, irrevocably, that I will never offer for my cousin? I would prefer not to have to directly cut the acquaintance, and I have always feared that would be the outcome if I did declare such. I do not wish to be rude to Anne, or leave her with no society but her mother, even if I needed to discourage the match with her. You know we share the same sentiments on this! I have not the inclination to marry, and if I will not be forced into that state by every scheming debutante and her mother, then I will brook no interference from my aunt. Neither Anne nor I need to marry to secure our fortune or our way of life. Lady Catherine should be satisfied with that. The majority of women, gently born or otherwise, cannot claim the same.”

The Colonel had heard all this many times but was mildly surprised at the vehement turn his cousin had taken in this speech, as to date Darcy had expressed weary resignation rather than fierce antipathy at Lady Catherine’s habitual intransigence. He glanced sharply at his cousin, wondering whether there was something he was missing. Darcy noticed and huffed an apology, turned and gestured for his cousin to follow in the shorthand that brothers from birth or long acquaintance develop. “Are you well, Richard?” Knowing he referred to his knee, the Colonel grunted his assent, “I rode harder and farther this morning, just needs a good walk to ease the stiffness.”

They walked in companionable silence towards the grove. The Colonel, curiosity awakened, spent the time reviewing their recent interactions. Darcy, grateful for Richard’s easy manner and unobtrusive support, welcomed his company. He hoped to meet Elizabeth this morning, but he wanted her to feel at ease as well as give her an opportunity to confirm any particulars of what he related last night with his cousin. That any prying eyes may witness their meeting and be unable to conjecture further was also an added benefit.

He would find a way to impress upon her that his affections and wishes had survived, and indeed been strengthened, by the night’s reflections. He was never more convinced that she answered all his unspoken desires, fulfilling every need that every other woman had failed to meet. He would not have been able to fashion his ideal helpmeet until he had met Elizabeth. She was providence, a blessing from heaven, unasked for and unique. She would be the making of him, he was sure, regardless of whether he would be granted the days of her life to share.

The woods through which they walked opened into a sloping grove, bordered by a stream which ran through and down, winding its way through the park and providing water for the cattle and fields which dotted the estate at its southern end. It created a picturesque scene, and he knew it was a favoured spot of Elizabeth’s during her stay in Hunsford.

He saw her immediately, in the near distance, seated on a fallen log, her back to them, leaning down towards the bubbling stream. Her bonnet had fallen to the ground beside the log and her auburn waves had begun to spill down her back and forward across her face. As they neared, they could hear her humming as she ran her right hand back and forth through the flowing water. She turned when they could be seen in her periphery, and she smiled a warm greeting as she eased herself up from the water’s edge. She had been holding her left arm stiffly against her chest, and gently shook her right hand, playfully flicking the droplets from her fingers in time to the tune she continued to hum, before brushing the remaining moisture off on the lowest portion of her skirts absently and taking up her glove. She was completely at peace, unhurried and unperturbed at their arrival. She was bewitching in her serenity, and never once took her gaze from Darcy’s form as he walked towards her, resting her gaze fully into his eyes when he was near enough for her to focus. She rendered him utterly and completely speechless.

“Miss Bennet, how delightful to see you well this morning!” The Colonel gave a short bow, and Elizabeth glanced toward him with a nod, smiling her reply, “Thank you Colonel, I am feeling much better today, though it would be difficult to remain ailing with such beauty before me.” She had turned to Darcy as she spoke the Colonel’s title, and it seemed as though the rest of her speech was addressed to him alone. “I am glad my indisposition was of such short duration, there is no telling the mischief that can be caused by lingering maladies that can make one forget life's simple joys.”

“Indeed, I do hope there is no chance of a recurrence of your malady last night, Miss Bennet.” Darcy had found his voice at last, his question accompanied by a bow in greeting.

“One can never be too sure, Mr Darcy.” She smiled and lifted a brow. “Perhaps if I am indisposed again, I would attempt to take my time to understand the cause more fully, in order to respond with the right remedy.”

Darcy’s heart leapt, unreasonably.

The conversation continued between his cousin and Elizabeth, as they moved on to discuss his war injuries, their plans for the rest of their time in Kent and beyond and continuing a long running dispute between them over the benefits of general education and literacy amongst the working and lower classes, but she addressed some of her comments to Darcy and deftly included him in their conversation. He agreed with her on most points, her judgement was sound, her experience accorded with his own due to their mutual interest and empathy with the tenants on their land, and she was willing to concede that the nature of work would have to change significantly before the majority of the country would need to even be literate, irrespective of whether that was an outcome to be desired.

The Colonel began to express a desire to return for a late breakfast. Elizabeth acquiesced and turning to Darcy who was nearest to her direction, requested his arm to the parsonage gate, confessing to be more weary than she realised. He offered it at once, feeling as though it was his heart she took, as she gripped his right forearm. The Colonel led the way, his stiffness eased by the walk and his limp imperceptible as he strode towards Rosings when the path diverged. Elizabeth fussed with her left sleeve as they neared the side gate and before he knew it, she had slipped something inside the sleeve of his right arm, her fingers caressing his palm as she did so.

She pressed his arm resolutely as she looked up at him and whispered, “Lady Catherine came to speak to me this morning, I admitted to nothing and made no promises to her. I will be guided by your actions going forward. If you wish to know my thoughts, read my words, penned last night. The only thing I would add this morning, is that if I am to be accused of using arts and allurements to draw you in, I may as well attempt to employ them in earnest as I endeavour to know you better.” Pressing his arm again to assure herself that her letter was delivered into his safe keeping, she winked with a smirk and took her leave.

When Darcy caught up with the Colonel, he could not fail to notice the wry smile he turned upon him. Seeing his younger cousins’ alarm, he lifted a hand to forestall him. “Nay, I will not say a thing Darce, though I confess I am perturbed that this is the first hint I have noticed of your preference. My abilities must be slipping in my old age. I will not press you for confidences yet. The truth will out, I am a patient man and for you I will man the barricades and lay down cannon fire until you obtain your objective or die in the attempt!” He laughed heartily, clapped Darcy on the back and added, “I expect a case of my favourite French brandy to be waiting for me when I return to Chilton, Lord knows I will need it. Be off with you.” He grimaced, braced himself as for battle and turned toward the path for the front entrance.

© Janine van der Kooy
Western Australia, 2022

CHAPTER 7
“In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was."


To the privacy of his rooms via the side entrance, Darcy repaired with all haste. He instructed his valet that he had urgent business to attend to and should not be disturbed until dinner. Elizabeth’s letter had burned against his wrist, nestled as it was beneath his fingertips, until he was at liberty. Her manner in the grove had given him reason to feel some confidence, but now that he had her words, addressed particularly to him, he could not help but question his apprehension. Would its contents bring misery or joy? He broke the wax seal, impressed with the emblem of a single bluebell hanging from a curved stem. Humility and constancy , he sighed. Providence, indeed.

Hunsford Parsonage, Kent

Be not alarmed, Sir, upon receiving this letter. As I was not enough mistress of myself last night to continue our conversation with any coherence or pretence of gentility, I have taken to ink and paper in the privacy of my room to attempt to grasp some kind of cogent wheat from the chaff I reaped several hours ago. That I am reaping the just harvest of what I have inexpertly sown is not lost on me.

I am astonished to find that the one personal ability I had most relied upon in my life at the venerable age of twenty - that of discernment, has failed me! I do not think I have ever before so egregiously misjudged a character, nor been taken in so easily, or surrendered simple propriety and common decency so quickly, to the folly of the easy address and preference to be found in smooth words coming out of a handsome countenance!

For one who had taken such pride in my discernment and who never feared the failings of vanity, it is a pitiable state indeed to find myself in - having driven reason away and clutching prepossession and ignorance - because I could not examine the truth at the heart of my wounded vanity. Oh, Vanity! She is a fearsome thing to behold, is she not? How well the playwright’s words apply, I can feel it now in my bones;

“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

But it was not scorned love that pierced me through sinew and marrow, it was mere vanity, and I am so ashamed. Until this moment, I never knew myself. I never knew how easily I could be led away from good judgment and common civility.

So, from our earliest acquaintance, Mr Darcy, I have not been fully aware of my motivations, have not had the clarity of an open mind with which to make good judgments. I find I can recall our interactions in amazing detail, and I wonder at the effort I took to maintain my disdain - to confect my dislike and assume the worst of your manner and your words. I did not even have the grace to be gracious, and I gleefully spent my fury, declaring my ill-judged reproofs and my contempt for you to the whole of my acquaintance. I used my regard and my standing in Meryton, as a respected member of one of the first families of the neighbourhood, to further a negative impression of you, all the while raising the standing of another who I confess I knew even less well, entirely because he flattered me and confirmed my dislike of you. It is abhorrent behaviour and there are not enough apologies in the world to make up for it.

Yet, you still trusted me with details about your family that would ruin you all in the eyes of society. You trusted a woman like me, and you loved me. I feel as though I do not know you at all, and I am only now discovering that I am the poorer for it.

You must be questioning your sanity even as I am questioning my own. We really are a pair at cross purposes. I confess it is amazing to me that you would consider yourself enamoured of me when I have spent the length of our relationship deliberately provoking and vexing you.

Being determined to dislike you, I took every opportunity to oppose your every opinion in company. Even when I should have been forwarding Mr Bingley’s good opinion of Jane, I instead took every bait that Caroline Bingley offered because opposing your views gave me endless opportunities to ridicule her cloying and oftentimes contradictory deference to your every utterance.

Oh dear, did her dislike of me originate in jealousy at your attention? Petticoats six inches deep in mud were probably enough to be going on with, but what a revelation if so! Heavens, what does it say about me that my first smile since our exchange has been won at the expense of Caroline Bingley? I am chuckling even now at that poor woman and her misguided attentions. And yet, setting aside my vanity, I see that I ridicule a woman, who in her jealousy, showed more discernment than I at the real state of things. You ignored her, and verbally sparred with me. I took it for censure, but I suppose any attention is better than none. You were too gentlemanly to disdain both of us completely. Except when you spent half an hour in my company at the library in Netherfield not saying a word to me. Well, to be fair, I didn’t speak a word to you either. Maybe you just wanted to read your book in peace?

I digress. At any rate, her folly did not expose a want of sense and discernment. She knew who was worthy to please and made her sentiments (ridiculously) obvious. That her heart’s desire may not be achieved is neither here nor there. She showed good taste at least, if mercenary claims can be considered taste. Oh, forgive me, I am trying to be good. What would my Jane do?

I am satisfied that at least I can declare that Wickham did not touch my heart, for in truth my heart was not at risk. There was only room for vanity. Where is my smile now?

The revelations of your heart, Mr Darcy, I am trembling to admit now the force of them, bestowed as they were on someone so unsuspecting, so unwilling (how you must hate me now!) have merited in me the severest reproof of my character. Revealing in that same moment the unalloyed truth of Wickham has shown me in no uncertain terms how unworthy I have been to receive such attentions, from a man worthy of pleasing.

I cannot yet answer your question, I am sorry, I truly do not know you, but that I wish for the opportunity to further our acquaintance I will not deny. I am perplexed as I think on the nature of our relationship to this point. I have obsessed over your words, found fault with your manner, and generally spent an inordinate amount of time thinking of you. When you spoke of love, all other thought vanished from my mind, and I found I truly looked at you. I was unable to look away from your countenance, your person, the shape of your hands, the texture and lustre of your hair, the exact colour of your eyes, and I realise now that I had noticed and catalogued all these details during the course of our acquaintance. I had been paying attention to all these things, even as I had been telling myself you were too arrogant to notice. I rejected you as publicly as I could because I believed you had rejected me privately before you even knew me.

I have been insulted and slighted many times; for my insignificant looks in comparison to my darling Jane, because of my penchant for outdoor rambles, and my curiosity and delight in proving my intelligence particularly in comparison to dull men, of which there are a tedious amount. Those insults and slights were never dwelt on for more than the time it took to laugh at them with Charlotte. In fact, they are all forgot! It is a standard philosophy of mine - to think only on that which remembrance gives you joy. This was not my experience with you. If these revelations were not so deeply shocking to me, I would be making sport of them as my Father would, should he ever learn of my folly.

I would wish for the opportunity to begin our acquaintance anew, sir. I know you will have had time to think on your declarations and sentiments. The feelings, which you told me, have long prevented the acknowledgement of your regard, may be helpful in overcoming it. I cannot blame you for noticing the degradation of not just my situation, but my vulgar and intemperate relations. I have ever noticed and despaired of them myself.

Though I do have to ask (curse my impertinence!), have you met your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh? And mayhap, could I introduce you to Miss Caroline Bingley?

I will repeat my offer to release you from your as yet unanswered proposal as the most charitable adieu I can give you. It may be an offer I regret for the rest of my days.

However, as it has never been my nature to increase my vexations by dwelling on them, I must trust to nature to bear me through these ill tidings.

I will only add, God bless you.
Elizabeth Bennet.

Darcy leaped to his feet, letter in hand, with no other thought in his mind than to get to Elizabeth immediately. He had almost passed through the doors of his chamber before recalling to himself his situation, and hers, and acknowledging that a speedy resolution to all his hopes and desires was not really an option.

She had not spurned him outright, she wished to begin anew. He had been granted a stay of execution and he must think, plan and work accordingly. He resumed his seat, brushed his thumb over her name and read her letter twice through, musing over his favourite expressions, chuckling at her witticisms and self-effacing humour. Oh, how he loved her!

He heard Griggs in his private antechamber forestalling a visitor and was able to hear the Colonel’s gravel-like command to stand aside. He strode to the door to rescue his valet and admit his cousin. He had good news, the residents of the Parsonage were to be invited to join them for supper and cards that evening, and he was charged to ensure his absent cousin made himself present on pain of death. Darcy was more than willing to do his duty. He would even dine with his aunt today. The letter now lay next to his heart in his innermost pocket. The warmth of her words mingled with his heart’s desires, and he would spend many minutes in front of his mirror attempting to school his features into his usual graven mask so he would not look like an addled youth grinning without cease. The Colonel suggested billiards or a sound thrashing to help him regain his equanimity before dinner. Darcy accepted the former, knowing that he would receive a thrashing at the hands of Lady Catherine when he joined them at dinner that day. It would be best if she had time to let off some of the steam of her ire early, so he could concentrate on improving Elizabeth’s opinion that night. Defeating his cousin at billiards would give him a small taste of victory. Richard was better with a rifle than a cue.

---

CHAPTER 8
“It taught me to hope…”

When Darcy entered the parlour just before the dinner hour, he stopped short. Lady Catherine was alone and seated upon her throne-like chair. She had been waiting for him, so it seemed.

“Fitzwilliam, you have been remiss in your attention to me as your hostess, and moreover, as one of your nearest living relations. Where have you been since yesterday? You do not look unwell. What have you to say for yourself?”

Darcy cleared his throat as he came forward, bowed over his aunt’s hand and greeted her formally. He took a seat adjacent to her and was reminded forcefully of his many summonses by his father for chastisement for his youthful indiscretions. The memory made him smile so he bowed his head as he sat in a mocking appropriation of humility while his recently practiced mask returned to his countenance.

“Forgive me, Lady Catherine, I have been kept busy by pressing matters of business this last day or so, but these have been resolved as much as they can be, and I am more at liberty to be at your service for the rest of my stay.”

Lady Catherine pierced him with a shrewd glare but was not inclined to press him further. She had her own purposes for arranging this tête-à-tête with her recalcitrant nephew.

“I took an early walk this morning with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Fitzwilliam. I am sure you can be at no loss to understand my reasons for the attention.”

“Indeed, Aunt, your affability and condescension are well known to me, and as such it is no surprise for you to take such an interest in a close relation of your parson.” Darcy unashamedly borrowed from said parson’s vocabulary, with as unstudied an air as he was able to give.

His aunt harrumphed her acceptance to this compliment. “An alarming report reached me, Fitzwilliam, of your attentions to Miss Bennet, visiting her without chaperone during her stay in Hunsford. Although I believe it to be impossible, I have resolved to have such reports universally contradicted. Miss Bennet refused to answer the charges I brought to her, claiming I had no right to ask the question. She insisted I bring them directly to you! Obstinate, headstrong girl, she should be ashamed of herself!”

“Aunt, I am unlikely to gainsay a report which you believe to be impossible. Many reports exist in society, having little to no effect on the world at large. Perhaps it would be best not to give such unfounded reports the air to expand further. What would you propose to achieve by bringing them forward to both Miss Bennet and myself? Do you want me to investigate from whence these reports originated? Are any of your staff inclined to circulate such scandalous reports to the neighbourhood?”

“My staff are above reproach!”

“It is well then, the matter can rest undisturbed, and we can proceed to dinner-”

“Not so hasty, Fitzwilliam. I have other matters to address pertaining to Miss Bennet. I have seen her pitiful attempts to gain your attention, and that of Richard. I have seen her smiles, her coquetry and her seductive arts attempt to lure you away from your duty. She denies it all and has admitted that she has not yet managed to entrap you into an engagement. But she has refused to oblige me to never enter into an engagement - she has refused to obey the claims of duty, honour and gratitude! She is determined to have you, Fitzwilliam, to ruin you and make you the contempt of the world!

And what for? She is a nobody, a gentleman’s daughter to be sure, but of a middling estate entailed away from the father’s line, with family in trade, and grasping, vulgar and scheming mother and sisters. I know it all! The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. Is this to be endured? But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, Fitzwilliam, if you would not be drawn in, you must not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.

I put you on your guard, nephew and insist you declare for Anne once and for all and marry her immediately to safeguard your reputation and to keep the shades of Pemberley unpolluted! You and Anne were made for each other. You are descended on the maternal side, from the same noble line, and on your father's, from respectable, honourable, and ancient, although untitled families. Your fortunes are both splendid. You are destined for each other by the voice of every member of your respective houses. How can you not honour your mother’s, my sister’s favourite wish? It is high time you do your duty and unite our two great estates at last.”

Lady Catherine sank against the brocade backrest, breathing heavily with the exertion of making her arguments, her chin lifted in triumph as she carried her point against Darcy. She was so close to realising her long cherished ambition that she could taste it.

Darcy was chastened by his aunt’s words, but not in any way that would please her ladyship. It was a salutary revelation of his own pusillanimous hypocrisy. He had given his aunt such power over his life, believing it was more gentlemanly to avoid having the conversation, effectively stringing it out, year after unwedded year. Her annual remonstration, her public declarations of their peculiar engagement, her officious attempts to ingratiate herself in the minute details of his life had achieved nothing.

Only he had given any credence to her protestations. His refusal to see Elizabeth as an eligible match for all those months, to arrogantly disdain her family and indeed, most of Meryton, had its roots in Lady Catherine’s small-minded, ignorant assertions. His uncle, the Earl and his aunt, Lady Chilton, his other Fitzwilliam relatives, had always encouraged him to consider the most advantageous matches, but did not insist he marry against his own inclinations. Had any of the ambitious mamas of the ton, parading their vacuous progeny before him, ever given quarter to her wishes? They saw no necessity to oblige his aunt’s claims. If they could claim him, they would. That he may have lost his chance with the only woman he had met in his seven and twenty years that could answer his every desire because of these ignoble sentiments left him nauseated.

As he sat, he unconsciously raised his hand to his breast, feeling the letter resting over his heart like a talisman. He had been given so much to hope for already by the lady herself, he knew he could trust his heart to her. While it was no guarantee, he knew Elizabeth would surely have owned immediately her rejection of his suit, if she was absolutely decided against him. She would not have breached propriety by slipping him a letter, outlining the contents of her heart and mind if she was not going to give him a chance to redeem himself.

Darcy rose from his seat and faced his aunt. His eyes were fixed, and his measured baritone was clear, calm and precise, with an edge of authority he rarely used outside his business dealings.

“Lady Catherine, I regret that I have not been clear enough in our interactions since I came of age, and more particularly, since the death of my father five years ago. Let me be rightly understood. I have never intended to, nor will I ever, offer for my cousin Anne. I repeat, I will never marry Anne. She has no inclination to marry me. We came to this understanding many years ago, it is entirely mutual. I will brook no further argument or discussion on this issue, my decision is final.” He paused and watched surprise, dismay and anger cross Lady Catherine’s face. It was fear that he saw when she finally looked away.

“As for your warning regarding the sensibilities of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I will take it under advisement. As a grown man of seven and twenty years of age, I am well aware of the matrimonial schemes and claims of many of the women I have had in my acquaintance. As I am unwed still, I assure you I am perfectly capable of safeguarding my own reputation, my virtue and all claims to honour and duty. You need not be concerned for me, but I implore you to consider Anne and how you may best ensure her safety and happiness.”

“How dare you refuse me! You refuse the claims of duty, and honour! You would ignore the dying wish of your dear Mama, my beloved sister! Unfeeling, selfish boy! You tell me to ensure Anne’s safety and happiness and I tell you that is why I am insisting you honour your engagement.”

“Lady Catherine, I will not discuss this again. You know my sentiments. It is up to you to accept that I am the master of my circumstances as much as I am the Master of Pemberley and its estates. I am my own man. I do not wish for a breach between our families, but if you are to continue to provoke me, I will have no other recourse.”

He gave a short bow and then waited. When she finally looked at him, he offered his arm to escort her to the dining room. She assented, wisely deciding that her initial desire to throw him out of her house would ensure that her chief object would be even less possible to achieve. Darcy had been clear, but she still clung to the knowledge that he was unmarried still. She would not let go of hope. Not yet.

---

CHAPTER 9
“..she saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them..”


Elizabeth was trying not to feel nervous but the more she told herself to stop feeling nervous, the more she questioned her sanity. The serenity she had gained that morning, her confident calm demeanour which she was able to exude in the open air had been eroded by a family dinner spent in necessary circumlocution in response to Mr Collins’ increasingly vexatious enquiries of the private interview with her ladyship. Fearing rebuke and reprisal from Lady Catherine for Elizabeth’s unknown misbehaviour had shaken Mr Collin’s delicate confidence and equanimity.

Pleading continued weakness from her indisposition had allowed Elizabeth to escape to her chamber for the afternoon, where she was able to rest and then awake refreshed and almost sanguine in time to dress for supper. She took inordinately long to decide between the three appropriate gowns she had travelled with, was unable to give clear instructions to the maid regarding her hair and became unreasonably vexed at being unable to locate her favourite brooch before laughing at herself, pronouncing her reflection tolerable and joining the rest of the household in the vestibule, where Mr Collins had been remonstrating to Charlotte about her friend’s tarrying ways given her ladyship’s repeated insistence on the sovereign importance of punctuality. Upon her arrival with apologies, they were swept out of doors and on the path to Rosings.

They were announced with alacrity and joined the family party at Rosings in Lady Catherine’s favourite parlour. Arrayed in their usual positions around the throne, her ladyship continued steering the conversation towards Anne and her accomplishments, or rather her vaunted accomplishments had she been well enough to achieve them, and frequently demanding Darcy’s acknowledgement or assent.

Although he had attempted not to draw attention to Elizabeth by any overt gesture or display, he was unable to resist glancing her way as often as Lady Catherine’s interest was directed elsewhere. She was radiant, and every time he chanced to look her way, he often found her regarding him. She did not smile openly, but a barely discernible lift of her chin, an imperceptible lowering of a lash before looking away, even when she was conversing with Mrs Jenkinson, who sat between Elizabeth and Anne, whenever a pause in her ladyship’s monologue allowed, suggested her attention was divided.

At length, the expected entertainments of whist or vingt-un were prepared. Maria was happily ensconced in her favoured pastime sketching interior and exterior scenes at a settee by the window and was not interested in cards. She was currently working on figures and taking quick likenesses on her way to portraiture so relished the opportunities she had been given at Rosings to sketch figures in various attitudes.

At the point of breaking into tables, Colonel Fitzwilliam manoeuvred himself to join Lady Catherine, Mrs Jenkinson and Mr Collins at one table, leaving Mrs Collins, Elizabeth and Darcy to join with Anne at the other. Mrs Collins, sincerely hoping to foster a good relationship with the heiress of Rosings claimed her as a partner, with a passing grimace of apology for leaving Elizabeth to partner with Darcy. On his way to the table, he collected four glasses and a decanter, taking it upon himself to offer and pour the wine, though no less than 4 footmen were arrayed around the room available for such menial service. Miss de Bourgh barely noticed, but Charlotte started in surprise. Elizabeth smiled her assent and thanked Mr Darcy as he handed her glass to her, deliberately releasing it slowly into her fingers rather than placing it on the table. It was the work of a moment, but his fingers tingled all the same. He had not touched her bare hands before and he relished the smile that lingered on her lips. Elizabeth had removed her gloves, remarking to Mrs Collins that she had never been able to master holding cards while wearing them.

The conversation was stilted as the cards were dealt, but gradually as the game progressed and the stiff formality of Miss de Bourgh gave way to the easy camaraderie between Charlotte and Elizabeth, the two Fitzwilliam cousins relaxed and enjoyed the banter and amusing stories volleyed back between the two old friends.

“Charlotte, you must desist at once. I forbid you to repeat that tale, or I shall have to reach into my quiver for some poison-tipped barbs of my own!” Elizabeth arched her brow, knowing her dear friend would take her meaning about which tale she referred. Charlotte giggled like a schoolgirl and not the sensible married woman of eight and twenty that she was, and took the opportunity while Mr Darcy was shuffling the deck, to regale them with Lizzy’s youthful exploits and daring deeds as a precocious, intelligent and energetic child during the next round, punctuated by Elizabeth detailing how Charlotte attempted to curb their mischief and prevented more serious misdeeds from parental scrutiny. Darcy was enchanted, Anne quietly impressed and yet horrified, and Elizabeth basked in the memories.

She then began to relate how Charlotte’s younger brother John, at age 13, but a year and a half older than Lizzy, had taken it upon himself to reform her tomboy ways by attempting to compete and defeat her in every outdoor pursuit she attempted. Charlotte interjected on a laugh.

“He was unable to best her and it became the stuff of Meryton legend that 11-year-old Lizzy was the fastest runner, quickest and highest tree climber, the most accurate with a bow and arrow and with a sling, which she had pleaded with her father to fashion after he admitted to making one for himself at her age.” Elizabeth’s mock outrage had softened into warm remembrances of her father’s indulgence.

“Lizzy even declared that she could swim the fastest, but John knew that Lizzy’s reputation, even though she was only 11 and determined to put off becoming a lady for as long as possible, would never recover if it became known she had gone swimming with him. He put an end to the challenges and declared Elizabeth the best boy in a skirt he had ever known.” Charlotte’s laughter grew unexpectedly wistful. She let the sentence drift and looked across at Elizabeth.

Forestalling the direction her remembrances had taken, Elizabeth launched into the story of how John at 11, had dared 9-year-old Lizzy to brave the heart of Longbourn’s northern woods, scene of almost all her youthful scrapes, to retrieve a golden egg from a magical robin’s nest about which he had certain information. The imaginative lad had invented a passing gypsy caravan with a wizened old witch from whom he heard the tale, and who insisted that the egg could only be seen and retrieved by a brave young maid of purest heart at midnight by the light of a full moon. She pitched her voice low, a natural storyteller, the cards all but abandoned by the table at large, with Darcy leaning forward intently, curious at the undisclosed emotion but entirely caught up in the tale. Charlotte took up the story from here, clearly an oft-shared remembrance between the two.

“Lizzy had played along, knowing he was in jest and thinking to turn the trick upon the teller somehow, promising she would sneak out that night, being a full moon and presaging a clear sky, to retrieve it. Little did she know that young Maria had heard it all also, and although being only 5, and desperate to hold a golden robin’s egg, determined to be the bravest and purest of heart herself. After she was put to bed, before the daylight had waned, little Maria snuck out of the Lodge and made her way to the northern edge of Longbourn, its closest edge to Lucas Lodge and made her way toward its darkest heart.

The cry of alarm had gone up at Lucas Lodge not long after darkness had fallen, but unbeknownst to them, Lizzy had been scouting the same woods before supper to leave a trail or mark a path for that night and heard Maria’s cries. Maria had not gone far into the woods before she spied a nest and attempted the climb. She was halfway up the tree before her bravery failed her, but it was not until the waning light made the woods as dark as pitch that she began to cry and call out in fear.

Were it not for Lizzy, no one would have heard her or even known to look there. Somehow, Lizzy found her, in the dark, her intimate knowledge of the area not failing her, and climbed up beside her. Her mere presence was enough to soothe Maria’s fears and renew her courage. Lizzy returned her to my grateful parents while the house was in an uproar and a search party begun to be organised. When they discovered the reason for Maria’s adventure, John couldn’t sit down for a week, but Lizzy, chafing at the injustice spent every spare moment with John in solidarity. To this day, Lizzy is Maria’s heroine!”

Darcy chuckled quietly and innocently asked, “And what is she to your brother John these days?” Charlotte glanced briefly at Elizabeth. “My brother and Elizabeth were always close, kindred spirits really. He would be still but was injured from a mishap on the farm when he was 14 and passed away not long after.”

Before Darcy could voice his dismay and apology, Elizabeth quietly added, “Oh Charlotte, you know I have made my peace with it, you can own the truth. John was attempting to teach me to ride, Mr Darcy, and in my 11-year-old obstinacy, I would not heed his instructions. The poor horse picked up my agitation and, in his efforts to calm it, John suffered a serious injury to his ribs. He clung to life for another 3 days, long enough for him to forgive me, but it was another 3 years before I was able to forgive myself and let go of my guilt and bitterness. I have never been able to get back on a horse, so it is well that I am a great walker! Charlotte and I share these stories often together and with our mutual acquaintance as part of my philosophy to think only on the past-“

“-as its remembrance gives you joy.” Darcy spoke the words softly with her, which prompted a smile of such brilliance and warmth it took his breath away. He knew it was partly due to the warmth of her memories of her childhood playmate, and he was glad to know that she had been appreciated fully by someone in her life. He was surprised to discover that there was no jealousy in his heart towards what may have been the first stirrings of love in Elizabeth’s life, resting as it did on the bedrock of a lifetime of shared experiences. He likewise felt no triumph that he did not have to compete with John for her affections now, he only felt sorrow for all that was lost, and gratitude for Elizabeth’s hard-won equanimity. She was surely formed for happiness, not melancholy, and had been tested early for its lasting proof.

Charlotte watched this exchange with undisguised interest, as did Miss De Bourgh, and Elizabeth felt some redirection was necessary, if at all possible. She knew she was going to be quizzed by Charlotte later either way. “Too true, Mr Darcy, you have an excellent memory. I recall I mentioned my simple philosophy during one of our exchanges at Netherfield. However, we seem to have forgotten what we are about. Miss De Bourgh, in lieu of card playing, I demand that you share a childhood remembrance of your cousin here! Or perhaps I should apply to Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she raised her voice here as it was apparent the other table had overheard some of their exchange. “Surely Mr Darcy could not have been so taciturn and forbidding even while in short pants?”

The Colonel laughed heartily, turned towards Elizabeth and was about to speak when Lady Catherine announced the supper table was filled and the time for card-playing was over. The tables broke up and the Colonel joined his cousins to continue their childhood reminiscences for Elizabeth’s amusement. Even Miss De Bourgh offered up a slight smile as tales of mischief and derring-do were traded. When she interjected to remind Richard that it was at her instigation that the swing had been transported to the elm beside the lake at Pemberley which had led to the most memorable Fitzwilliam family summer gathering of their childhood, and how gleefully she directed her cousins to partake in pranks and follies like a miniature Lady Catherine, Elizabeth found a new appreciation, and empathy for the quiet woman beside her.

It appeared that Darcy’s reserve was a natural trait, but when his honour or loyalty were challenged, he was not one to back down. His skill with the foil and sword was earned early, and even the Colonel learned not to challenge him at Angelo’s unless he could follow up at Jackson’s. Darcy was famous for disliking the intimacy associated with boxing, he preferred the distance a sharp foil could offer. His preference for fishing over hunting was also common raillery, despite his disgruntled assurances that “he was perfectly able to shoot a brace of grouse when required.”

“But of course,” chortled Elizabeth, “as the very busy and important Master of Pemberley, you must have people to do those things for you!”

“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, the Master of Pemberley must divide his time between collecting his rents, directing his tenants and staff, dressing fashionably, attending balls and dancing with barely tolerable ladies, before rolling in his pile of bank notes.” Darcy delivered this with his usual gravitas and Elizabeth laughed in delight.

They had unconsciously drifted closer towards each other as the conversation had progressed, and Anne and the Colonel chose that moment to select more offerings from the supper table, undoubtedly by the Colonel’s design as he had managed to garner Lady Catherine’s attention at the same time.

“There! That is the look!” Elizabeth gestured to Darcy’s face as her laughter had slowly ebbed and she noticed his quiet mirth darken to an intensity she had previously understood to be glowering disapprobation. Lost in his countenance, in her surprised joy at his dry humour, she now knew she could not make any assumptions about what his expressions meant. She chanced to look about the room, and noting they were still in a somewhat private conversation, she dropped her voice and continued, “Mr Darcy, of what are you thinking when you look at me like that? It is a look that is so familiar to me and at once vexed and perplexed me, because it would sometimes occur when I had impertinently upbraided you, and at other times, I would find this expression turned upon me at a distance and for no reason I could reasonably conjecture! This time, it was provoked by my laughter at what was obviously an example of your well-hidden self-effacing good humour. I can go no further without an explanation.”

Darcy had no idea how he was to answer this question and maintain any kind of reputation as a gentleman. He knew precisely of what he was thinking and with what intensity these thoughts came over him, almost without his volition and never at an appropriate time. Until his wedding night, such thoughts were never appropriate, or at least indulging in them at length wasn’t. He had given himself permission to indulge until his arrival in Kent, because he believed he would never see her again, but how could he explain it to Elizabeth? The absurdity of his position made him duck his head and begin to smile sheepishly. His voice was low and rumbling, but full of affection.

“Miss Elizabeth, I cannot tell you exactly what I was thinking at the time, but please believe me when I tell you that it in no way indicates disapproval of you or anything about you. It is not within my power to enlighten you further at this moment, so I must ask you to trust me with this.” He had managed to school his features to an earnest sincerity, though he could not hide his smile during this entreaty, and after a moment’s deep study of his eyes, his brow and his lips, she gave him a slow smile, which grew broader to match his and nodded, “Very well, Mr Darcy, I look forward to the moment I can be enlightened.”

He worked hard to keep the broad smile on his face, for his overwhelming desire to kiss her was threatening to darken his countenance once again. She was searching his face minutely, and a small intake of breath betrayed her unconscious answering desire. He could see it discompose her; her brow furrowed above her nose as she contemplated the fresh sensations arising within her. She broke their gaze as she strove for equanimity and moved to the supper table as Lady Catherine announced the evening had come to a close. Lost in thought, with fingers pressed delicately against her lips, Darcy hoped her thoughts had begun to tend in the same direction as his as she absently took her leave and left Rosings.

---

CHAPTER 10

Unbeknownst to all, Darcy and Elizabeth had continued their solitary early morning rambles following many of the alternative paths through the woods of Rosings. She had delighted in the tales of his childhood, usually sparked by visual reminders of trees climbed and fallen from, and forts built and left abandoned with their youth. She was even able to espy carved initials on a tree at one of these ancient fortresses, which had Mr Darcy coughing and half laughing as he remembered his youthful ardour for one of the local villager’s daughters.

He was ashamed to realise he could no longer remember her full name, the initials RH being no help, but he could well remember the curve of her cheek and the taste of her lips. You never forgot your first kiss. He neglected to mention this to Elizabeth, but he did tell her the other lesson she taught him the summer following, when he saw her give her favours to George Wickham. He was surprised to find the betrayal still hurt, though he supposed it was merely one of many betrayals at the hands of Wickham, all compounded together. He frowned at the thought and wondered when he would be able to let go of this pain. She listened with compassion, tenderly squeezing his arm, honoured to be the one he chose to share these things with. She could tell he did not speak often of these things, by the way he struggled to find the words. His entire person became rigid in stages and her gentle ministrations delivered and received unconsciously by both had the effect of relaxing him in stages also. He realised his thoughts and words had travelled to his Cambridge days with Wickham and she was now the bearer of all his secret fears. He looked at her with some trepidation, but all he saw was empathy and wonder. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, “I am so sorry I misjudged you Mr Darcy."

He raised his free hand to cover the one held with his forearm, laced their fingers together and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. When he had regained his composure, he thanked her and looked up attempting to smile. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she saw the intense darkness in his eyes, coupled with a smile for the first time. She could not help reaching up and brushing his cheek in wonder, “I still do not know what that look means Mr Darcy, but when you couple it with a smile, it looks much more winsome, if still intense! I cannot mistake it for censure or disapprobation, it looks much more like the stare the barn cat used to make when it had spotted a mouse, though not quite as feral.” She began to laugh as Darcy gripped her hand and stepped around to face her. She gazed at their interlocked hands. “Forgive me, Mr Darcy, if I am being impertinent, these feelings are so new to me, and I am a curious creature. This is the closest I have ever been to a man who is not a close relation, and I am not unaffected by you, indeed I have not been as affected by a man before, and I have seen a few handsome men, and noticed their regard for me. Wickham was charming and handsome, and his words and attentions made it clear I was of interest to him in some way, but I realise now that was a pale shadow of what is going on here. I wish to know it all, to understand these overpowering sensations, but to be completely honest, I don’t know whether to trust what I feel or to fear it.”

“A bit of both would be advisable Miss Bennet,” whispered Darcy hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “To answer your question, that look on my face, that I think I see mirrored in yours, means I want to kiss you. Beyond reason, beyond propriety. And I really should try harder to hide it when we are in company.” He turned around, took her arm and commenced their return journey. “You are not alone, these feelings are somewhat new to me too - at least the force of them. My proposal to you was a compunction I could no longer deny, they stopped being just feelings and became a physical force overcoming everything. But you know all this. I don’t know how long it will feel this way, but I do not believe, for me at any rate, that they are transient or ephemeral. Nothing human is immutable of course, but my feelings for you are based on every aspect of who you are, and every fresh revelation of your nature, good or ill, simply confirms and strengthens them.”

“So, is this what it feels like to be falling in love? It is more apt an expression than I have ever given it credit. Falling is not usually a pleasant or welcome sensation! And pray, sir, what ill revelation have you received about me thus far? For that matter, what good did you actually know of me back in Hertfordshire when you began falling? Indeed, who truly thinks of such things when they fall in love!” The rest of their conversation covered some of the good or ill they had discovered about each other, and they parted more confident, and yet more wary of their feelings than when they began.

Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had again extended their stay at Rosings and spent the time agreeably enjoying the company of the ladies at the parsonage as often as possible. As Anne accompanied them on many of these occasions, Lady Catherine did not object, though she had been careful not to overtly raise the ire of her nephew by any further intimations of her long-held expectations. She was interested to note how relaxed and comfortable her daughter was becoming in his company and began to wonder if perhaps her officious demands had not been the most effective method of securing her the desired match.

No declaration had been made towards Miss Elizabeth, and although Darcy’s attentions to her were marked, she was as easy in the company of Richard and spent nearly as much time engaged in conversation with him as with his reserved cousin. Elizabeth was also notably solicitous of the attentions of her daughter and had effortlessly begun to draw her out. If she wasn’t so contemptibly beneath her, she would be laudable. As it was, Lady Catherine could scarcely draw breath but to find fault with her. It was in fact as necessary as breathing. She however found that the lady in question was just now announcing to the assembled tea party that they would be taking their leave at the end of the week as planned.

“No, no, that will not do, Miss Bennet, you must write to your mother to beg that you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your company, I am sure.”

Elizabeth spared a glance at Charlotte before answering that it would not be possible to accept her ladyship’s kind invitation to lengthen her stay with Mrs Collins, as she was required to be in London on Saturday. Charlotte was about to add her agreement when Lady Catherine, looking quite put out, continued, “Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly spare you for another fortnight.”

“But my father cannot, your ladyship. He wrote only last week to hurry my return.” This was not strictly true, he wrote last week, for the first time since she had come away, merely to upbraid her for not sending any amusing anecdotes about her ridiculous cousin and his equally ridiculous patroness since being in Kent. She had found it hard to put on paper what so amused her, because it seemed so much more like a slight to poor Charlotte, than to anyone else, to continue to make sport of her husband and his object of veneration, however sorely she had been tempted. And since her upheaval with Mr Darcy, she had been unable to put pen to paper to write anything with her usual vivacity, for fear of giving away feelings she was not yet in command of.

"Oh! Your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay another month complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as far as London, for I am going there early in June for a week; and as Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there will be very good room for one of you -- and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large."

Elizabeth tried to be patient in her heart as she knew she was unusual in her preference for her father’s company over her mother’s, but found she was unequal to the task of undoing every one of Lady Catherine’s misapprehensions as to her filial affections, her authority over her own schedule and her own desire to not further an acquaintance with such a mercurial and disagreeable person, so settled for simplicity.

"You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our original plan.”

“But you have not even had the opportunity to see the beauties of Kent, outside Rosings Park! Darcy, should not Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas be treated to a visit to Leeds Castle, Tunbridge Wells or Canterbury - there may even be time for a trip to witness the picturesque views from Box Hill, or a longer visit to the seaside at Ramsgate, where dear Georgiana spent some time last summer!” Lady Catherine appeared to have exhausted her alarming show of civility, and Elizabeth had been increasingly astonished that she would offer up such extravagant pursuits as suitable for the guests of a humble parson and his wife. Her indignation was about to take flight, when at the mention of Ramsgate and Georgiana, both Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected with barely more civility than she was able to muster. They both looked at each other and the Colonel nodded to Darcy to continue.

“Lady Catherine, it is not within the power of the Collinses to arrange these trips - surely the attraction of Rosings, and time spent in the company of old friends and family is enough for their guests. We must not burden them-”

“Darcy, I am not suggesting the Collinses arrange these entertainments! Surely you and the Colonel could organise an outing or two for Anne and the ladies to enjoy. It would be worth any alteration of plans should you need more time to arrange something suitable.”

“Lady Catherine, again, I am grateful for your kindness and condescension in wishing to provide us with opportunities to see this beautiful county, but truly, I have been well satisfied with my daily rambles in the woods around Rosings, I could be content for many weeks just exploring your lovely estate and spending time with my dear friend - I’m sure Miss Lucas would agree also. It is simply not within my power to extend my stay, and I do not believe it is wise to attempt an alteration at this late stage. Please, do not be offended, I could not have received a warmer welcome or have more felicitous memories of my time away from Hertfordshire than I have gained here under your ladyship’s kind benevolence.” Her smile was genuine, frequent as had been her glances to a certain gentleman, for whom many of the compliments were intended. Darcy had been unable to do anything but admire her ability to swiftly turn a conversation from injurious incivility to delicate panegyric, while still resolutely preserving her position.

Mr Collins’ alarm had been mollified by his cousin’s words and Lady Catherine’s obvious resignation. Anne however, had leant forward to quietly suggest that if excursions further afield were desired, she would be happy to drive Miss Bennet around Rosings and Hunsford in her phaeton, and they could even take a picnic to spend a day touring the deer park of the nearby Knole House. “Do you think it likely the Duchess of Dorset will be from home, at this time, Mamma?”

“I have heard from Arabella that she will be in Whitworth until George is old enough to inherit Knole outright. They have only recently returned from Plymouth after Mary’s wedding late last year. I believe she needed some assistance settling into her new position as Countess and the steward at Knole has things well in hand – the house is mainly staffed for public tours at the moment.” Lady Catherine grimaced at the thought. Rosings would never be open to the public under her direction.

“Oh, then it will be well worth the time applying to see the public rooms as well,” interjected Elizabeth, her eyes brightening at Anne’s suggestion, either with genuine interest or merely a wish to encourage his cousins’ newfound willingness to express herself in company, Darcy could not tell. She turned to Maria, “I’ve heard the Sackville family invested heavily in art, and the rooms themselves are delightfully furnished in the Stuart royal line. You might enjoy viewing the portraits and sculptures as well as the park! Is it really close enough for a day’s visit?” Elizabeth directed this question to Anne, but it was Darcy who answered.

“It is but 7 miles from Rosings,” he paused and lifted a sardonic corner of his lips, “surely a very easy distance of good road.” Her eyes crinkled in mirth at his private reference while the rest of the party began discussing when best to travel, who would be going and how they would get there.

Elizabeth, after a private conference with Charlotte, determined the only available day for her to go would be Friday, as she had made promises to visit with some of the neediest tenants and parishioners and Elizabeth had insisted on joining her in these visits. She had wanted to assist and partake in Charlotte’s new life fully, to really understand and show her support, but also because she took an interest in the tenants of Longbourn and saw it as her obligation to help Charlotte learn what would be expected of her when she became mistress of Elizabeth’s home. Charlotte demurred, suggesting that if it suited the rest of the party, her plans could be altered. However, as Friday was the day that Mr Collins usually spends writing his sermon, he assured his wife he would greatly benefit from the peace and quiet of having all the ladies of Hunsford out of the house.

As it happened, Friday also suited Darcy and the Colonel well, as the latter had no fixed plans and the former was hoping to join Elizabeth on some of the tenant visits as he had intended to inspect the tenant homes as part of his annual obligation to Lady Catherine. Being able to see first-hand how Elizabeth interacted with tenants would be useful information for how much assistance she might be when she was mistress of his home. He expected she would be invaluable. He offered his escort as he concurred with the choice of Friday, both ladies would be delighted to have his company and so the plan for the week took shape immediately. Elizabeth wondered if she was to be assessed on these visits as much as the durability of the tenant walls and the fastness of the roofs and windows. She quirked an eyebrow at him, as Lady Catherine suggested Anne join them for these visits also. Darcy stifled his look of surprise while Charlotte gently suggested that many of the visits would have to be undertaken on foot and at some distance and may be inappropriate for someone of Anne’s position as well as her delicate condition. Anne had no inclination to join them, so Lady Catherine did not insist.

Elizabeth tried not to look as amused as she felt at the palpable relief crossing Darcy’s face. He gave her a look of stern disapprobation, but she could see the twinkle in his eye. She wondered again at how familiar his features and his expressions had become to her in the last few weeks. And how dear , came the unbidden thought, the warmth blossoming from her heart suffused her countenance with a radiance she did not realise as she gazed at its mirror spilling across his face.

The tea party broke up shortly after the final decisions had been made for their visit to Knole Park. It was still a lovely afternoon, and Elizabeth was desirous of a ramble and possible time alone with her thoughts, so she eschewed joining the others on their return to the Parsonage and declared she would wander the woods for a time and head to her favourite grove.

Maria expressed a desire to meet her there as she had an unfinished sketch of the tree overhanging the stream and wanted to spend some time capturing the colours to be able to complete the final watercolour at home. The Colonel invited Anne to join her cousins and though she would have preferred a solitary ramble, she decided not to waste the opportunity to spend more time with Mr Darcy. He had admitted to her that the Colonel was aware of their private courtship, and she suspected Anne had either been made aware or had merely noticed it, in the way women notice every other woman’s intimate desires almost immediately upon entering a room.

She took his arm so casually as they walked together it took his breath away, but her liveliness in asking him all manner of questions about his responsibilities and duties, his staff at Pemberley, the tenants and other landowners, and her responsiveness and intelligence in making apt comparisons to the situation at Longbourn as well as Rosings, were a balm to his soul. She really was perfect for him. In talents, disposition, intellect, character and beauty, she was created ex nihilo as his ideal helpmeet. When they had a difference of opinion, she would test him minutely and only give ground when his position was rationally argued and defended. He gave her the compliment of assuming her opinions were not inferior at the outset, and she exulted, as modestly as she could, when he conceded a point in her favour. Neither would give quarter until it was earned, which Elizabeth deemed the highest compliment they could pay one another’s intelligence.

She laughed as she looked up to observe his unguarded expression of pride. “Dare I take it that I have passed the test of suitability as a candidate for Pemberley’s mistress? Or is it pride in your beloved home that I caught on your countenance just now? Are you at all concerned that Pemberley pass my test of suitability?” They were seated at the stream now and he turned to her, not attempting to hide his feelings from her.

“Elizabeth, I have no doubt about your suitability to be mistress of Pemberley, the only requirement for that role is to be the beloved wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am proud of my home, and the role it plays in the maintenance, protection and support of the many hundreds of people who live and work on it and surround it. I can only hope that Pemberley would pass whatever test you see fit, but I would desire that your decision, with regard to the current master, be made without having to see Pemberley first. I want you to love my home, Miss Bennet, but not before you love me. It is both a source of great relief and intense trepidation that you are the only woman I have ever met from whom I could reasonably expect this.”

She had not intended to provoke such strength of feeling in him and she was momentarily speechless. She was dismayed she could not declare for him immediately, but she was still unsure of herself. “I can promise you, Mr Darcy, that if and when I come to a decision, it will be for you, and you alone. I will not marry a house, however beautiful it is.” She looked deeply into his eyes, as if to assure him of her sincerity.

When Maria joined them in the grove, she entered upon a scene of such private harmony she could not help but start a new sketch. Elizabeth and Darcy were seated together, deep in animated discussion on the fallen log under the willow she had attempted to capture earlier. Anne and the Colonel had wandered into the grove of bluebells to the left, looking on in quiet conversation. The composition rendered itself so completely in Maria’s mind that the sketch fairly drew itself on the page. She never had the interest to follow much of their conversation in the parlour and dining room, but her skilful hands were able to capture the truth before her with stunning ease. She knew her final watercolour would be magnificent, knew the colours and the clarity would remain in her mind’s eye for the rest of her life, even as she instinctively knew that what she was creating presented a far too intimate truth to be seen by anyone else at this juncture. She captured the essentials and then slipped out her original sketch to colour it for later reference as she was joined by the older couples.

© Janine van der Kooy
Western Australia, 2022

CHAPTER 11
“..though some people may call him proud, I have seen nothing of it.”

Elizabeth’s final days were spent enjoying the fine weather out of doors. Her early morning walks were invariably accompanied by Mr Darcy and after hearing of her childhood trauma, were later followed by an afternoon trip to the stables to acclimate herself with the gentle mare that had been purchased for Anne’s use but was often only ridden by the grooms as Anne much preferred her phaeton. Darcy had had many fond daydreams of touring Pemberley on horseback beside his future wife and he was loath to give them up without a serious attempt to help Elizabeth get past her disinclination. It was also the perfect opportunity to spend more time alone with her in her final week at Rosings. It was perhaps precipitate, but Darcy had already written to his steward to begin searching for an appropriate mount for Elizabeth to use at Pemberley. He was so hopeful as to be almost sure of her improving regard for him.

Elizabeth had confided in him on her first day at the stables, that her stubbornness at age 11 had only increased with age as it stemmed from her unwavering belief that riding side saddle was a ridiculous imposition to place upon grown women. “Men and women have the same essential physical structure, Mr Darcy. It is simply unreasonable and to be completely honest, unjust, to require a woman to sit on her side, as though she is in a drawing room taking tea, while she is 10 feet in the air controlling a moving beast.” She had gestured as far above her head as she could and then reached out and shook his forearm to express her consternation, “And it is no argument to tell me that many gentlewomen have managed to achieve this amazing feat! The fact that it is even required of us points to a manifest injustice. You cannot tell me that Boudicca or Joan of Arc rode side saddle into battle. For the simple expedient involving a pair of breeches we can do away with the indignity of redesigning a saddle and retraining a horse so a woman can ride it. Simple logic is enough to tell you that there is more afoot here than what is considered seemly.”

She arched a brow but was smiling widely so he leaned toward her, clasping the hand that had been squeezing his forearm in concert with her inflections, and bringing it to his lips. “Miss Elizabeth, I agree wholeheartedly with your logic, but I could not bring myself to teach you to ride astride while you are still a maiden. My wife, on the other hand could persuade me to take that step. It would be the easiest way to give you confidence on a more spirited mount. But that is not a step to take, while here at Rosings.” She peered up at him quizzically, unsure whether he was serious and then laughingly deciding, incorrectly, that he must not be, because the mistress of Pemberley must surely be beyond reproach in her every endeavour, and riding astride was definitely not something beyond reproach. Darcy’s mind had wandered elsewhere briefly. He cleared his throat. “Here, I hope to get you comfortable being around a gentle mare, maybe even get you used to a horse like Pegasus, maybe introduce the idea of being on a horse? We will discuss the best seating arrangement for you later.”

He led her beyond the stables to the paddock behind where one of the oldest and most gentle mares, Angel, had been brought to cool down after her gallop with the groom. A small horse is still a horse , thought Elizabeth, who was small and slight, though usually indomitable in spirit. The ostler led her to the fence when they appeared, and Elizabeth could not help but shrink back towards Darcy. He tucked her into his side and reached around to the side of the mare to caress its flank. Elizabeth cleared her throat and stiffened her spine to offer the mare an apple with an open palm in the manner the ostler mimed to her, smiling encouragingly. She asked him his name and made small talk while eyeing Angel guardedly and continuing the conversation with Tom, she began stroking the mare, visibly relaxing while Darcy remained close to her.

In time, she asked if she could climb the fence and perch upon it next to Angel to view her from above. Enclosed within the safety of Darcy’s arms she climbed and sat next to the mare who nudged her hands for more treats. Deciding being eye to eye with the mare was more confronting given her precarious seat, Darcy lifted her down, exulting in the intimate feel of her small frame within his hands and holding her just a fraction longer than was necessary for safety.

“Would you like to brush her down, miss? You can lead her into her stall with me and get used to the feel of her. I know she seems fearful large, but if you know what you’re about, horses bring such a feeling of calm and peace. Given they are mighty useful in battle and for speed, I’ve always found it a miracle how everything in the world feels a little bit more right after seeing to the horses. Might help you to see the other horses too, she’s the smallest in our stable, exceptin’ for Miss Anne’s ponies, so maybe Angel won’t feel so big to you, when you see the others?”

Darcy stepped back and let Elizabeth meet Tom and Angel at the gate. She turned to look for him and he waved her in ahead of him, wanting her to find her confidence without him there. She looked nervous again, but understanding his unspoken intent, she took the lead and chattered away, either to Tom or to Angel. He smiled and followed.

He fed and stroked Pegasus, while she worked, exclaiming at the silky feel of her mane and tail as she brushed. He introduced her to Pegasus who was several hands taller than Angel, and jet black to her dappled grey. He told her of his stables, the work of several generations of breeding, his favourite hunter, Flight, and Georgie’s horse, Siren, from the same broodmare as Angel, both from the line Pegasus belonged to, from his great-grandfather’s stallion Perseus. Pemberley breeders were sought after, ostlers and grooms sent from estates all over Derbyshire to be trained at Pemberley and this was just one part of the working of Pemberley’s estate.

“Good heavens, my family line can barely meet the standard of ancestry accredited to your horseflesh! I am no longer surprised you stalk about assembly rooms looking almighty and put upon. What is a Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire whose family can boast little else except 2 carthorses and a nag named Nelly, who is only pressed into service in inclement weather? This will never do!” Elizabeth began with a laugh in her voice, her natural inclination for levity making sport of Darcy’s equine ancestry, but she could not maintain it. She whispered her words to Pegasus as she ran her hand beneath his mane, “I cannot even ride a horse, Pegasus, or drive a phaeton, the Bennet name will disappear from Longbourn after 6 generations, upon the death of my father, and all I have are the upstart pretensions of a country miss, without family, connection or fortune. But he asked me, Pegasus! He must be out of his wits. It is not sensible, it is not practical, it really does go against every sense of honour, prudence and decorum! I am equal to many things, but am I equal to this? What am I to Arabians and legacies, Pegasus? How does love overcome such obstacles?”

Elizabeth turned to face Darcy who had come along side Pegasus to stand behind her as she spoke. “Is the arrogance all mine in thinking I am equal to all this, to all of, well, you?” He took her hands in his, and said in all solemnity, “I am completely out of my wits, Elizabeth. It is the only explanation.” She laughed, which was his intent, and then continued talking to Pegasus. “What shall I say to this Pegs? Is this to be suitability test number 1? Learn to ride a horse, be mistress of Pemberley! I fear I am quaking in my boots, and this may be the easiest of tests. I do not like to fail, my vanity will not allow it, and up to now it has been easy to avoid. I can walk to Longbourn’s boundaries in a morning, so to ride or not to ride has always been the academic question. I do not need to succeed and therefore can avoid the risk of failure. I can hazard that even Pegs here cannot range Pemberley’s boundaries in a morning, aye? So, Pegasus, if I am to have a hope of succeeding, I will need to learn to ride. And I am determined to ride you. Astride, if you please.”

Darcy could not be delighted at the pet name she had given his animal, but he was glad she had not allowed her obvious fears to overcome her. He could see there was some truth behind her jesting, and he knew she was struggling against genuine fears and difficult memories. Her ability to laugh in the face of her own struggles was a fascinating joy to him. “Elizabeth, I have every faith in you. Are you not the woman who told me that her courage rises with every attempt to intimidate her?” Elizabeth chortled at the memory and brushed off the compliment.

“Oh, that is easily said in a drawing room when the object of intimidation is merely staring at you while you play the pianoforte. How valorous of me, indeed! Especially when it was clear to almost everyone but me that you actually did come in all that state to admire me and not to censure.” She tucked her arm in his and they strolled out of the stable, waving goodbye to Tom. “I know my strengths, and I did manage to stare down the Dragon already – how do you think she ranks amongst the future enemies of the mistress of Pemberley? Even if it isn’t me, I’m sure whoever you choose, being the soft-hearted romantic that you are, will not be any more acceptable than I am. Mr Darcy, are you sure you really thought this through?”

-------------------------------

By Thursday, Elizabeth was seated on Angel, side saddle, and walking slowly around the paddock guided by Tom. She had been able to borrow an old riding habit that had been left here by Georgiana several years ago. A more current habit would certainly never have fit Elizabeth, but this one was adequate to the purpose. Her days had been filled with morning walks, tenant visits and afternoon rides, almost all were accompanied by Darcy. They had both joined Charlotte while she was visiting parishioners as the Parson’s wife, combining the similar aims in ascertaining the welfare of the tenants and families and forwarding good relationships amongst the workers.

Although Lady Catherine had exacting ideas about the acceptable behaviour and situation of the lower classes, she employed a steward who was appointed and guided by Darcy’s more liberal principles. So, while officious and sometimes invasive in her attentions to the tenants and their relationships via Mr Collins, Rosings was otherwise well managed, the tenants’ independence maintained as much as possible and any serious disputes tended to be kept beneath the notice of the lady herself, for the benefit of all concerned. The estate’s continued prosperity was a testament to this shared management and ensured Darcy’s continued attention, which suited Lady Catherine perfectly.

Visiting the tenants at Longbourn had always been a source of joy for Elizabeth. She truly loved the people who worked their land, admired their dedication, their pragmatism and their fortitude. She learnt much from them and understood innately that it was their toil that contributed directly to her ease and comfort, taking pains to express her gratitude in whatever ways she was able. There was nobility in their connection to the land, and an inherent dignity in the idea of working to earn your wages. She was the daughter of a gentleman, but she appreciated that the food on her table was there by the sweat of another man’s brow, and she could not disdain his work any more than she could disdain the gracious provision of God. She was pleasantly surprised to see how comfortably Darcy related to them. He was obviously known to many of them from his annual visits, solicitous of their care and conversant with their needs. Having seen that he had an ability to please where he chose, she could not help but be pleased that he chose to employ it in such a way. It was clear that he considered their patronage as part of his responsibilities as a landed gentleman, in the most benevolent sense, but his ease and diffidence amongst this class of people was remarkable in comparison to the gravity and hauteur he displayed in Meryton.

Charlotte was well aware of Mr Collins’ propensity to involve Lady Catherine in every trivial affair that reached his ears, so was slowly cultivating stable and discreet relationships with many of the tenant’s families with a view to curtailing even further any potential breaches in trust between the Parson and his parishioners. Mr Darcy was impressed at her ability to build rapport with her parishioners and saw how well Elizabeth supported her and helped her build the respect of the Collins’ name in the parish. The strength of their friendship and mutual regard was clear and he had marvelled yet again at the providence that handed Charlotte Lucas to William Collins in Elizabeth’s place.

Elizabeth had managed to keep her seat on Angel well and have even begun to almost enjoy the view when Darcy joined her on Pegasus. Tom had guided her out of the paddock until the two horses were side by side. “You know Tom, I think you’re right,” Elizabeth quipped, “Angel doesn’t feel nearly as tall now that Pegasus is next to me.” She looked up at Darcy. “You know you are already tall, don’t you? Why do you need to have the tallest horse as well? Is it just because you like looking down on everyone else? Is Pegasus trained to take a side saddle? I insist on swapping if so, I think we might be the same height in our seats if you take Angel instead!” He called her bluff, and she immediately retracted her position.

Tom approached and began explaining how Elizabeth could direct and control the horse herself when she became comfortable holding the reins and using a switch. The rest of the afternoon was spent in Elizabeth giving Angel her head while she meandered around the paddock ignoring Elizabeth’s gentle suggestions on direction. After half an hour of not really taking control, Tom called Angel to the mounting block where Darcy was waiting to assist in her dismount. She was not yet able to do it unaided and he was loath to give anyone else the pleasure. They always ended her lessons with a long walk ending at the stream as Elizabeth had to work out the stiffness in her frame from the unfamiliar positions she had to hold. She delighted in this final afternoon with him, sensing that things would change significantly upon removing to Town. The idyllic time that Rosings had afforded them, away from the challenges of both of their families and connections was almost at an end and she was not anticipating the change. They both spoke of pleasant nothings, enjoying the unhurried pace, neither wishing to broach the future.

---

CHAPTER 12

Friday dawned bright and clear, the carriages were brought around to the Parsonage after an early breakfast, packed with the day’s provisions and they set off with no delay. Elizabeth found herself seated opposite Darcy, with Maria, while Anne joined the Colonel and Charlotte in Lady Catherine’s barouche box. Anne had contemplated taking her Phaeton, but it was not large enough for three, so she made do with the top down while the weather was so fine. She was happiest riding through nature with the wind in her face and enjoyed describing the flora and fauna to Charlotte. Colonel Fitzwilliam related items of interest and historical significance during their short journey.

Maria was wholly occupied in contemplating the scenery and occasionally exclaiming over specific views and vistas as they passed. She required little more than an agreeable assent every now and then, which left Darcy and Elizabeth to contemplate each other, the view and the future largely in companionable silence. Darcy had decided that he and Richard would return to London on the morrow also and had convinced Elizabeth to accept his offer to arrange their travel. It had all taken place courtesy of Lady Catherine’s desire to make sure they were attended to appropriately, her distrust in the manservant to be sent by Elizabeth’s Uncle Gardiner notwithstanding. Lady Catherine could hardly object to Darcy’s offer, as the gentlemen had stayed much longer than their usual 4 days, and as it directly answered all of Lady Catherine’s objections concerning the appropriate propriety for two young ladies travelling unaccompanied. Surely two gentlemen of note were worth more than two menservants.

Elizabeth laughed to Charlotte later that Lady Catherine had been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use! Her thoughts drifted to her practical best friend, reflecting on the relative happiness she had found in defying all romantic sensibility and reason to marry her cousin, Mr Collins. Jane had been right, in her goodness, to speak so well of him. Ridiculous though he is, he is not malicious, and his situation and consequence had been materially improved already by his excellent choice of wife. She was truly his better half, working assiduously to improve his mind, his temper and his pursuits by gentleness, compassion and tender encouragement. Though she may roll her eyes from time to time, she did so only when he left the room.

Elizabeth had learned something of real tolerance, and the power a good woman can hold even in a marriage of unequal affections and abilities. She could see it was possible for Charlotte to make the most of the life she had chosen, with full awareness of the promises she had made before God. Elizabeth had seen it as purely mercenary to marry for financial security alone and had felt betrayed at her choice, but is it not equally mercenary to consider marriage only possible in the consummation of romantic love? Given how little she understood the storm of feeling that assailed her whenever she thought of the man opposite her, how much could she trust of her sensibilities in directing her towards her life partner? Was she naïve to think she could secure future felicity with such a mercurial guide alone?

Darcy wondered at the play of emotions that ran across Elizabeth’s face as she mused. He was looking forward to a day spent in her company, secure in his affections, if not hers, and not troubling himself overmuch to question his motivations. He had made his decision to follow his heart, and as it seemed to concur with his mind, his flesh and his spirit, he could hardly argue. Thus contented, his thoughts ranged further afield, planning his schedule upon his return to London, his first port of call being Bingley, from whom he had received a favourable response to his letter at the start of the week, and with whom he was engaged to dine on Sunday after church. Monday would see him meeting with his solicitor and his man of business to begin drafting the settlement papers and be apprised on the status of his investments. Beyond that, he was desirous of returning to Pemberley, looking forward to seeing Georgiana, and desperate to make Elizabeth his wife. He leaned forward and tugged from her hand the unopened volume she had brought with her for the short journey. It was Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales . She smiled at his playful manner and watched him take up reading from her marked page. She had been reading The Wife of Bath’s Tale and he began to read aloud.

“But at the last, with muche care and woe
We fell accorded by ourselves two:
He gave me all the bridle in mine hand
To have the governance of house and land,
And of his tongue, and of his hand also.
I made him burn his book anon right tho.
And when that I had gotten unto me
By mast’ry all the sovereignety,
And that he said, “Mine owen true wife,
Do “as thee list,” the term of all thy life,
Keep thine honour, and eke keep mine estate;
After that day we never had debate.”

Smiling, Elizabeth lifted the volume from his hands, and continued.

“God help me so, I was to him as kind
As any wife from Denmark unto Ind,
And also true, and so was he to me:
I pray to God that sits in majesty
So bless his soule, for his mercy dear.”

“I do hope we can manage to come to something like this connubial felicity, if that is our future, without the violence, or the multiple marriages, Mr Darcy.” She paused as his wide grin momentarily arrested her thoughts. “My father agreed with Wordsworth that Chaucer is easy to read in Middle English, and insisted I include him in my studies as much as the classical Greek poets. He reflects the human condition, does he not, regardless of which century he lived, and much more so because his language and culture directly prefaced ours. Anyway, my first visit to Kent could not be undertaken without Chaucer in my reticule, even if I cannot follow the Pilgrim’s Way to Canterbury.”

He was looking at her that way again, and she arched a delicate eyebrow before glancing to her right at Maria. He smiled and dropped his voice to whisper low and steady, “Perhaps one day you will get the opportunity to return to Kent and travel as far afield as Canterbury then.” He held her gaze, then clearing his countenance, he began to ask her about the nature of her education at her father’s hands, where their tastes coincided and where they did not, and comparing their favourite poets and plays. They were halfway through an impromptu game of one-upmanship, involving guessing the provenance of favourite memorised verses, when the carriage began to slow heralding their arrival into Knole Park. Elizabeth’s attention was diverted to the carriage windows through which she could see the turreted medieval gatehouse tower looming beside them before they rounded the bend and entered the stable court beyond it. They were greeted by the footmen and groomsmen who assisted with the horses and ushered them through to the inner courtyard. As it was a short journey, even Anne did not require refreshment, so Darcy immediately applied to the butler for a tour of the public rooms.

It was several hours later before they could tear Maria away from the magnificent portraits, landscapes and sculptures that had been collected by the late Duke of Dorset, while the others had exhausted their interest in the furnishings from the Stuart royal line that had once graced rooms in the palaces of Hampton Court, Whitehall and Kensington. They lured her outside with the promise of a picnic luncheon and the glories of nature in the deer park surrounding Knole.

Elizabeth wandered under the shade of a glorious oak tree, at some distance from the others who were still enjoying the fine picnic repast from the kitchen at Rosings. She had been discomposed again by the grandeur of the place, being reminded constantly by Anne’s frequent references to Pemberley and its similarity in size, if not consequence. She was grateful that Pemberley did not come with a title, though having heard from Anne about the behaviour of the scandalous late Duke of Dorset, her opinion on the fundamental equality of depravity across classes was confirmed. She was more bothered by her own inability to maintain her equanimity when confronted with a potential future as the wife of the master of Pemberley. She felt she was Darcy’s equal in intelligence, virtue, propriety, bearing and dignity, although perhaps she was much more willing to forego dignity in favour of levity, but she rather liked the idea of bringing a cheerful levity to the dignified gravity of his natural demeanour.

The oak under which she had been sheltering was possessed of roots and branches in enough proximity to allow her to clamber into its lower reaches, as her mind traversed its convoluted pathways to the depths of her being. As she sat against the trunk, perched on a branch, knees gathered beneath her skirts and encircled by her arms, she looked up into the pinpoints of sunlight that filtered down between the foliage and breathed his name into the air. The Darcy legacy surrounded her like the spreading oak. A tree is a common enough metaphor for any family, but sitting amongst the branches, clambering over the visible roots that delved deep into the ground to provide the foundation for an oak that had stood for possibly hundreds of years, she felt dwarfed and completely inconsequential in a way she had not felt before.

He was more than just the man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was captivating and enticing enough on his own, but he came with a consequence which she was only just beginning to understand, and she was surprised how much it affected her normally sanguine temper. It made her nervous, especially as she was still processing her own failings, revealed in their courtship - the first part of which he had conducted entirely in his mind, and which she had entirely denied and repressed in her own. She had accepted her position in life, gently born, with a vulgar mother, an intelligent and indulgent father, beloved aunt and uncle, in trade though as genteel as it was possible to be, numerous sisters, some more beloved than others, and a collection of silly relations no worse than everyone else’s silly relations. She had felt herself the equal of the Miss Bingleys and Lady Catherines of the world, but now she wasn’t sure.

When he had proposed to her, when he so humbly and yet so arrogantly declared his ardent love, the world had tilted. As it slowly righted itself, she was no longer confident of her place. All her suppositions about him, and about herself, were wrong, or at least, they weren’t quite right. She had been vain and prideful about her abilities and that had given her the confidence to move through the world unaffected and bold. No longer undergirded by this confidence, she was more liable to doubt herself, question her judgment. Darcy had not asked her to change, seemed to love her for who she was, but what if his love changed her? It had, in fact, already changed her, had it not?

She would necessarily change if she said yes and became his wife. She could not be the same Lizzy Bennet and be mistress of Pemberley! How much of his love would she gain or lose in the process? She could not predict the future, and even though she had yet to declare to herself or anyone else the depth of her feelings for this man, she was already so dependent on his love for her, that she feared its loss deeply. She wanted to be what he needed, and she desperately hoped that all that she was, and all that she was capable of being, would be enough. She closed her eyes and whispered his name to the sky again, filling it with her unspoken hopes and fears.

---

CHAPTER 13


He was watching her as she drifted away from the assembled group, obviously deep in thought, and content in her own company. They had been much together of late, sharing private conversation almost daily since his proposal, and he knew if she wanted his presence, she would have found a way to let him know. He would give her some space today. Colonel Fitzwilliam had stopped mid-sentence when he realised Darcy was no longer paying attention. They both watched as she wandered into a grove, amused as she circled a large oak, leaning against its trunk as she clambered over the roots. The shafts of sunlight gave them glimpses of her movement until she was no longer in view.

Darcy had a small smile on his face when the Colonel cleared his throat noisily and drew him back to their conversation. They had been discussing how best to introduce Elizabeth to the Fitzwilliam family. Darcy had few family members left of note, two aunts and an uncle, the Earl and their 3 adult children. His eldest cousin had been unable to produce an heir since his marriage 6 years ago. Richard, as the younger brother, was disconcerted to now be under heavy pressure to settle and marry lest the earldom be lost forever. Darcy, who privately agreed it was time for his favourite cousin to retire from battle, knew he would not be persuaded against his own inclinations and so took any and every opportunity to support him in his chosen profession, finding ways he could assist in his advancement, while quietly praying he would eventually feel the longing to settle that had taken hold of Darcy the moment he had realised he had lost his heart.

If there was such another woman for Richard. He was less fastidious than Darcy, but his comparatively cold and formal upbringing, his experience of war, the unique camaraderie he shared with his men and his dogged pursuit of his own liberty, gave him a hardness of character and bluntness of temperament that was ill-suited to the pursuit of a wife. He was jovial and easy in company so had no difficulty securing the attentions of many kinds of ladies but had no desire, it seemed, to secure himself a companion for life. Darcy knew he respected and liked Elizabeth, enjoyed flirting with her and securing her attention, mainly to annoy Darcy, but he would never have seriously courted her. She had too many sharp edges which would have pierced and reopened wounds Richard didn’t even know existed. Richard favoured softness in temperament and in person, but his wife would need to also have an inner strength to manage his darker moods.

Darcy was not worried about Elizabeth’s reception by his extended family, he knew she could not be intimidated by them, if she remained confident in her own abilities. Her occasional and unexpected inquietude at what being a Darcy represented, though she invariably laughed herself out of it, gave him pause. He could not be surprised at this, it had been confronting for him to step into his father’s shoes, bearing the weight of the Darcy legacy on shoulders barely past their majority, and he had been preparing all his life for just such a moment.

He wondered if this was part of what she was ruminating on in her private stroll through the woods. He could face any opposition from the world at large, but he did not know what to do if she lost faith in herself. If she stopped being his indomitable Lizzy, he was not sure how to get her back. Could her fears lead her to walk away from him, persuade her to say no to her growing affection for him? He knew he had awakened her desires, he knew she was affected by his presence, interested in his mind, his experiences. He could see it in her regard, in her preference for his company, the gentle squeezes of her hand when they were walking, but it was not yet declared. Would his love be enough to keep her with him? The Colonel had given up trying to distract him and instead had joined Anne and Mrs Collins when they declared their intention to walk toward Maria and take in her interpretation of the views. Darcy nodded sheepishly at him and decided it was time to seek out his lady.

He came upon her after doubling back to the oak she had twice taken a turn around. He would have missed her again that time but for his eye catching the trailing ribbon that dangled below a lower branch. Her head was resting upon the trunk, tilted up to the leaves, eyes closed, knees drawn close to her chest beneath her skirts. She was a picture of beautiful serenity and as he drew closer, he heard her whisper his name. His heart thudded to see and hear her say it so intimately with a shy smile on her lips, as though his name was an invocation.

The branch was low enough, or he was tall enough, that they were at eye level, and she somehow had not heard him approach. He had never wanted to kiss her more. He reached out to steady himself on the trunk when she opened her eyes. She blinked twice in surprise, but her smile merely grew wider, and she murmured, “I appear to have whispered you into being, my love.” Her eyes widened when he caressed her cheek, unable to stop himself lowering his lips to hers softly. He felt her gasp against his parted lips as he deepened the kiss before releasing her face and embracing her curled frame against his broad chest. He rested his head beside hers enjoying the feel of her cheek against his, while she collected herself, her hands playing with the buttons of his waistcoat. She smiled to herself, contemplating the strangeness of sharing kisses and thinking that she finally understood the promise she had seen in his eyes and how long he had been anticipating and hoping. She hoped it was as pleasant to him as it was to her.

“You have surprised me into admitting more than I was ready to, sir,” she admonished quietly. She was embarrassed at the admission and was trying to work out why. “I think perhaps I am not ready to step into your world and admitting what I think I feel…”. She shook her head and finally looked up at him, “What I know I feel, makes it all much more real. I am not sure who I am going to be, who I should be, who I want to be, who you want me to be – I never used to have all these questions, and the only thing I am certain of is that I cannot do without you, and I have not had to rely on someone else for my happiness since I was a child.” Her hands had been buttoning and unbuttoning his waist coat while she was speaking, making it very hard for Darcy to concentrate, especially as he knew she was completely unaware of the intimacy of her gestures. He steadied himself on a breath and brought his hands to hers to still their movement. She flushed when she recognised what she had been doing and watched him refasten the top buttons. She began to giggle when she saw how discomposed he was, but somehow managed to look sweetly contrite at the same time.

“Elizabeth, I am certain that I cannot do without you either. I don’t know the answer to any of your questions, I just know we can face them, and anything else that comes along, if we are together.” She burrowed her face into his chest, seeking comfort like a child as she voiced her deepest concern. “What if you can no longer respect me because I am not like the women of your circle? What if my relations cause you to repine your decision, or make you forget why you love me? What if I turn into my mother?” She whispered the last and although it made him want to laugh, he could tell she genuinely feared it, and was moved by what her own parents’ relationship had made her fear.

She loved and respected her father, probably idolised him while demonising her mother in order to make sense of their unequal relationship growing up. It could not have been easy when she realised that she would be in the place of her mother in any relationship she had with a husband, and he recognised her abiding need for respect came from the fact that her own mother was accorded so little and was in fact often mocked by her own father in front of his daughters and the world at large. Theirs may not be an unhappy marriage, possibly her mother may not have the wit to notice she is being mocked daily, but it made for a very poor example for a lively and intelligent daughter as she grew into adulthood and began considering her future. It was no surprise to Darcy that she was determined to only marry where there was real affection or that her greatest fear was not just that he would no longer love her, but that he would not treat her with the respect she deserved. He could not imagine a situation where she would ever come to resemble her mother, but he did not know how to assuage her fears when all he could offer were promises and not guarantees. They would both have to trust each other with their hearts and their futures.

“I was blessed to be born to parents who loved each other passionately and treated each other with respect, compassion and honesty. But even then, I know it could not always have been champagne and roses. I do know my father suffered cruelly when my mother passed, he never got over her loss and never considered remarriage, though he would have been young enough. I know what it looks like to love and respect your wife, Elizabeth, I have not even come close to considering marriage until I met you. There has never been another woman who has come close to what I have always wanted in a wife.

I was a fool to have let you go in Hertfordshire, to risk losing you. I was a fool to have come to you in the way I did, and you know not how I have tortured myself with the thought I might have lost you that day – that you may have chosen to refuse me outright! I wanted to storm out in outrage when you mentioned Wickham and had you been less forgiving, less open to my addresses, I may have ended it then, and ended all my hopes for future felicity in marriage!” His voice shook with emotion and his hold tightened painfully around her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured his next words.

“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I pray we will have a long life together, but I cannot promise a life without trouble, vexation, fear or suffering. We will be cruel to one another at times – we will both know best how to wound the other, is it not always the case with those we are closest to? We will argue, passionately, I suspect, but with certainty I know we will love passionately too. If you have truly given me your heart, Elizabeth, I will safeguard it to the best of my ability and I will try to give you the space to be whoever you need to be. We will change in many ways, that is the nature of being alive, but we should not fear it, if we are together.”

He drew her face up to his and smiled widely, “And if you should turn into your mother, I shall buy a red coat, and somehow find delight in shrillness of voice, vapid conversation and hysterical fits. I promise to love you all my days, Elizabeth. Just as you are.”

---

CHAPTER 14

The journey to London was uneventful, the unacknowledged lovers too full of their fresh understanding to be anything but silent in company. Both were anticipating the changes to come, anxious for an announcement and yet fearful of the exposure. Darcy was mentally preparing for his meeting with Bingley, Lizzy wondering how on earth she was going to break the news to Jane and then her father. She knew she would also have to seek permission from Uncle Gardiner in order for Mr Darcy to call at Gracechurch Street to see her. She knew once he met her aunt and uncle, he would love them as she did, but that did not change the fact that Gracechurch Street was not the salubrious address a Darcy of Pemberley would ordinarily repair to, and she worried he would retreat into his reserved and haughty demeanour by default. She hoped, with only some doubts, that she could tease him out of it, that she would not become defensive by default if presented with behaviours like those at their first meeting.

Darcy had wanted everything to be done properly, a formal courtship to be public and open, at least to her London relations until he could apply for her hand in person to her father. He even suggested going to Hertfordshire himself on Monday, but Elizabeth, still unsure of herself and Darcy’s understanding, wished for a more informal courtship while in London, an opportunity to meet his Fitzwilliam cousins as an independent entity before he presented her as his fiancée. For her own peace of mind, she wanted to know how she would be received as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, not as the future Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy. She wanted to know who she could really trust of his family and his social circle and thought this the best way to begin.

She already knew she had the Colonel’s approval, and she knew she had the respect of Mr Bingley, along with the disapprobation of his sisters. Perhaps it was too late to meet the rest of his family on independent terms, his preference would be obvious when she walked into their parlours on his arm or sat beside him at the theatre in the Darcy box, but he was willing to compromise only on delaying the formal announcement until after his planned entertainments. She would not be allowed to meet his family or his friends with any less deference from him. He had arranged it all with the Colonel, boxes were booked and a family dinner at Darcy House to meet the Earl already settled. He was showing her in every way he could that he would not turn away from her, that his decision had been made and nothing would change it. At least Jane would be included in all the entertainments, and the Gardiners would be invited to the box at the Theatre Royal too.

Greeting Jane on the steps of the house, for she had been waiting by the window and could not wait for her to even descend the carriage before flying out the door, was all that Elizabeth could wish for. She laughed in delight and was heartened to see Jane looking a little more like herself than when she left her for Kent 6 weeks ago. She had great hopes for more in the days and weeks to come. Darcy had alighted before Elizabeth and was handing down Maria before he turned to greet “Miss Bennet” with a formal bow, as stiff as before, but noticing Elizabeth’s gaze, his lips lifted in a smile. He looked about him to see a neat row of houses, well maintained, and noticed a portly man, still youthful in countenance and vigour, and his rather younger wife leading the way down, warmth and welcome shining in their eyes for their niece. He stood up straighter and waited while the family noisily embraced. The footmen were unloading luggage and band boxes, Maria exclaiming she had left her sketchbooks and art folio in the carriage before leaping back in to retrieve them after the Colonel had stepped out. Elizabeth turned to the gentlemen, eyes sparkling with familial joy, while Mrs Gardiner suggested they all come in for refreshments and introductions in the parlour. She waited expectantly for Darcy, who offered his arm, the gentleman noting Jane’s curious glance before she turned ahead of them to enter the house. Three small faces could be seen at an upstairs window, waving to the new arrivals. Elizabeth smiled widely and blew a kiss to them, her infectious happiness causing the children to shriek, “Lizzy!” before disappearing from the window.

Introductions were made, refreshments offered, and the guests seated in an informal but tastefully appointed family parlour. Mrs Gardiner spoke briefly to Colonel Fitzwilliam before asking Lizzy to help with the tea. Mr Gardiner had joined Mr Darcy on the settee with Jane, who helped further conversation between the two gentlemen. She began to have suspicions when she noticed Lizzy’s attention being constantly diverted from her own conversation to that of Mr Darcy’s. Jane was far too genteel to be obviously surprised by Mr Darcy’s solicitous and friendly manner and she knew she would know all by the end of the day. Elizabeth relaxed in stages and attended to her aunt’s questions with enthusiasm, until the Colonel and Mr Darcy nodded to one another that the time to leave was upon them.

Rising, Mr Darcy thanked the Gardiners and requested the opportunity to call on the Misses Bennet sometime early in the coming week and then issued a formal invitation for the family to join them in his family box at the Theatre-Royal in Covent Garden to see King Richard III on Wednesday. Elizabeth had not expected Darcy to be so forthright in his request or so marked in his attentions and blushed, but the Gardiner’s were too genteel to show obvious concern or surprise, and instead expressed appropriate delight and gratitude for the invitation, without the fawning obsequiousness and false humility she had become inured to in Kent. Mr Gardiner gave his permission for any social calls to be made to all the ladies at Gracechurch Street, and for Mr Darcy’s carriage to collect the ladies for the theatre also, while Mr Gardiner would join them later direct from his warehouses. Elizabeth walked the gentlemen out, suddenly feeling all the weight of their separation, but unable to express anything above an earnest smile and a quick squeeze of his fingers when he bowed over her hand and kissed it.

She brought her fingers to her smiling lips and drew a calming breath, startled into movement at Jane’s gentle, “Lizzy, dear, are you well?” She had time for a brief smile and “I am exceedingly well, dear Jane”, before thunderous sounds from the stairs heralded the arrival of her young cousins, impatient to greet her. She promised Jane with her eyes that all would be revealed in due course while she bent to greet her cousins and lifted, from the tiring arms of the eldest, an 18-month-old toddler, the very youngest Gardiner, sharing Elizabeth’s auburn hair, impish smile and hazel eyes, as well as her name. “My darling Lillybet! How you have grown in the 6 weeks we have been apart!”

The next hour was spent in reacquainting herself with her 4 young cousins, handing out the small gifts she had purchased in the village and, with Maria, recounting the sights and events they enjoyed in their sojourn in Kent. Many amusing anecdotes were shared while detailing the splendour of Rosings, while Maria’s sketchbook came out to give impressions of the many interior views and exterior scenes of the park and grove. Elizabeth exclaimed as Maria attempted to skip the many pages of surreptitious portraits she had drawn while in the parlour at Rosings.

Maria demurred, embarrassedly declaring she was practicing drawing figures and faces to improve her portraits and they were not worth looking at, while looking expressively at Elizabeth in an attempt to warn her. Elizabeth mistook the expression for youthful embarrassment and not delicacy and so insisted on viewing the pages, and all the ladies marvelled at Maria’s lightning sketches, capturing features and expressions that demonstrated her gift and keen eye for detail. Both Mrs Gardiner and Jane glanced at each other to see the number of sketches of Mr Darcy and Elizabeth, at first separately or in conversation with others, but then more frequently together, in conversation, laughing and debating; he turning pages for her at the pianoforte, she handing him a cup of tea while he was in conversation with the Colonel. There were sketches of the Collins’ and the de Bourghs drawn equally skilfully and expressively but it was the familiar features of Elizabeth that drew her sister’s and her aunt’s attention. Elizabeth immediately realised what Maria’s innocent sketches had unwittingly revealed but was so impressed at the artistry and perception revealed by the little vignettes she could not be embarrassed. She was going to own the truth to both her aunt and Jane sometime today, and she began to be delighted to be able to point to this independent evidence of her growing esteem for the man she had so publicly disdained and maligned months ago.

She looked at their surprised faces and began to laugh. Mr Gardiner had returned to his study to carry on with the business of the day and the children were returned to their nursery. Maria and Elizabeth had yet to change and refresh themselves from their journey, so Elizabeth begged off enlightening her relations until she had done so. Although it was clear Maria had divined some intimate truths in her sketches, she was not aware of the whole, and unwilling to divulge the particulars to any outside her family before she spoke of it to Jane and Aunt Margaret, she nevertheless exacted a promise from Maria that no one else was to see these sketches until Elizabeth gave her leave to do so. Inferring some potential injury to the elevated personages she had sketched without their permission or knowledge, Maria was more than willing to submit the book into Elizabeth’s safekeeping for the time being. She was due to return to Lucas Lodge in the morning and she knew she could trust to its safe return soon.

When Jane attended her in her bedchamber with her aunt a half hour later, Elizabeth began to explain how her feelings for Mr Darcy had undergone so material a change in the past six weeks that she was now delighted to admit they had an understanding and had planned for Mr Darcy to apply for her uncle’s permission to conduct a private courtship from Gracechurch Street while in London, and if all proceeded well, apply for her father’s permission to marry in Hertfordshire, sometime this summer.

“No, Lizzy, I would not have believed it, could not have believed it, for you hated him two months ago! But for Maria’s sketches…”

“It would have been a bad beginning, I know!” She produced Maria’s sketch book and leafed through the pages as she spoke. “I spent half the journey from Kent trying to think how best to explain my complete reversal of feelings. I thought at least you might have a hope of understanding as you never really thought him so bad as all that even at the height of Wickham’s popularity with all the ladies. I feigned to think less of your diffidence and goodness, Jane, can you believe my betrayal? Although the world tilted in Mr Darcy’s favour, against all my vain suppositions, I should have felt the rightness of it because it tilted the world back in your favour also!” She pointed to a scene at a card table where Darcy was leaning forward, listening intently, all attention on the half-drawn countenance of a figure opposite, which she explained was herself sharing a childhood remembrance. Maria had captured a half smile playing about his lips, his hands steepled beneath his chin and Elizabeth was lost in the memory of that moment.

Jane smiled at her sister’s obvious happiness and looked to her aunt. Mrs Gardiner had been impressed at Elizabeth’s note revealing her travel plans with a man she knew of, much like the rest of society, only by name and reputation, but had assumed that as the family had been known for their liberality and affability since the time of her girlhood in Lambton, that it was merely a happenstance of convenience that had prompted the shared journey to London from Kent. To find that her niece was on the brink of marriage with one of the most illustrious personages in London, the wealthiest landowner in Derbyshire and one the most sought-after bachelors in society had rendered her momentarily speechless. She wanted to give some salutary advice or sensible piece of wisdom, but she drew a blank. It seemed a bit late to fear that his attentions might be less than honourable, especially as it was clear it was Elizabeth who had desired a more private courtship in London.

This one thought cleared the fog of her mind as she looked at another sketch of her niece, captured with her trademark impish grin as she gestured toward her interlocutor, an incomplete gentleman, likely the Colonel to her eye, reclined beside her holding a crystal goblet about to spill its contents as his head is thrown back against the settee, clearly guffawing at whatever Elizabeth had said. She voiced her question as she tapped at the image, smiling at the scene it portrayed. “Elizabeth, what is your purpose in this private courtship you wish to conduct with Mr Darcy? Is it just to ensure your father is the first to hear of it? Surely a letter could accomplish the same, and you could vouchsafe your entrance into society, your introduction to his family as his affianced bride and be the talk of the ton in this, what will be, your first season in London!”

Elizabeth sighed heavily. In truth, she had begun to have doubts about her reluctance to go public immediately. Haltingly, she tried to explain her reasoning. It was not that she did not trust Darcy, nor that she had doubts about her own convictions. She just would have much preferred to have met his family and his circle in the same way she had met the Bingleys, the de Bourghs, and the Colonel. As a disinterested person, with no connection or protection, so she would not have as much trouble trying to discern their motivation. She did not fear their disapprobation or censure, they would be as Lady Catherine was to her if unable to accept her. She merely wanted to know who her real friends could be, from the many false friends who would come forward upon the announcement. She did not want to be isolated amongst a much larger and more varied society than she was used to, unable to trust anyone. She knew she would be maligned, but not openly, if she was under Darcy’s protection. Her unspoken fear was the loss of her independence, even as she knew how much her happiness already depended on this one gentleman. Her audience sympathised with her fears, but both Jane and her aunt expressed complete confidence in her courage and discernment, notwithstanding her Darcy/Wickham misstep.

“Lizzy, I think it is safe for you to conclude that it was indeed an aberration, not evidence of a lack of judgment or fundamental flaw in your discernment. Your said it yourself – your vanity was wounded, and you held on to the wound because, despite your best efforts, you were attracted to Mr Darcy, you were challenged by his intellect, and you enjoyed sparring with him. You knew he was your equal and it hurt you to believe he felt you were inferior. You were not thinking entirely dispassionately, Lizzy, you were in fact fuelled by your passionate nature. You hated him passionately precisely because you were not indifferent to him.”

“I see now that my sister is not only kinder, gentler and more beautiful than I, she is also wiser. So, my one attribute which I thought to give me some precedence and worth over you is dashed!” Elizabeth leant against her sister and drew peace from the warmth and succour from her sister’s presence as much as her wisdom.

Mrs Gardiner added, “Now that you are no longer fighting against an inclination, but working towards a mutual dependence and regard, your confidence will naturally grow and your ability to discern friend from foe, sympathy from antipathy will also grow. Do not forget that Mr Darcy must have some idea who he can rely on for support within his own family and wider circle.”

“Aunt, I have ever relied upon you for guidance, wisdom and comfort. I am glad you will be with me for some of these first steps. But how am I going to tell Papa?” This rhetorical question went unanswered as Elizabeth was embraced by both her sister and her aunt, who then rose from the bed and enjoined them to meet her for supper. She placed a kiss on their heads and went to greet her children who had been woefully neglected after the excitement of the day.

Supper was a merry affair, with the eldest two cousins given leave to join the table to celebrate Elizabeth’s arrival. No further discussion was had regarding Elizabeth and Darcy’s understanding, and Mrs Gardiner was left to apprise her husband of some of the details, so he was not completely surprised when Mr Darcy came to seek his permission to call on Elizabeth. He had had some concerns, and noted the marked preference shown by Lizzy during their brief visit but trusted to the excellent relationship his nieces shared with his wife to reveal and moderate all. He would exercise his duty towards his nieces with as much concern and care as for his own children and indeed considered it useful practice for when his own daughters came of age and began entertaining thoughts of suitors. He was thankful he had some years yet before that task befell him.

Elizabeth retired early, exhausted from the travel and the emotion of the day, but then stayed up late into the night with Jane beside her, talking over everything again, relating almost everything that had occurred between herself and Darcy. They had avoided discussing Mr Bingley, though he was at the forefront of both their minds. As Jane’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, Elizabeth said a prayer that tomorrow’s meeting between Bingley and Darcy would bring her sister the sweetest dreams of all.

© Janine van der Kooy 2022

CHAPTER 15

Bingley greeted Darcy in the hall of his London home with almost as much effusiveness as was his wont, before he met, and then left, Jane Bennet. They clasped hands like brothers, and he followed him into the family dining room where a small buffet table had been laden with cold meats, pastries and food for their repast.

Darcy filled a plate with food he hoped he may feel like eating after he had made his confession. He thought he would allow Bingley to eat first, hoping not to raise his ire on an empty stomach on top of everything else. He inquired after his sisters, heard the tension in Bingley’s response and spoke a little of his time in Kent. Having caught up on the news in town and made a show of pushing food around his plate, he sipped a mouthful of wine and commenced his confession.

“Charles, I believe I have made a significant error in judgment, I have exposed a wilful propensity to interfere in your affairs and I have colluded with your sisters against my better nature, in what I thought was in your best interests, but have now been convinced was not.”

Bingley laughed incredulously until he saw the expression of earnest contrition and self-recrimination on Darcy’s face. “Good God, man, what the devil are you talking about?!” He stuttered as his mind processed Darcy’s precise, and yet vague, declaration. “Are you talking about Miss Bennet? Do you think you misjudged her sentiments?”

“Bingley, I have it on good authority that Miss Bennet’s interest, and heart, was as much engaged as yours appears to have been, and still is?” Darcy asked the last somewhat hesitantly as Bingley sat back in his seat, eyes unfocused but still staring at Darcy. “You have not been yourself since we left Netherfield, Charles, and neither has Miss Bennet.”

“How do you know this - you have been in Kent – did you hear it from the Collins’? Are you certain – but it has been months! I left with no word, I was to return, Caroline wrote a letter and received none in return. She was content to cut the acquaintance, so it seemed. I did not expect it of her, but Caroline insists she did not…” Bingley’s voice trailed off from these fragments of jumbled thoughts as the look on Darcy’s face betrayed the truth. “She lied to me! Miss Bennet did write back. You know the truth, tell me all Fitz, I want to know it all.”

“Miss Bingley did receive a letter from Miss Bennet, several I believe, and wished to depress any expectations so did not respond in good time, especially since the letters indicated she had moved to town to stay with family in Cheapside. Miss Bennet came to call on your sisters in Grosvenor Street, and they did not return the call for three weeks, again, hoping to depress any expectations. I would not have wished to disguise the truth, Charles, but I had my own motives for wishing to avoid the company of the Bennet family.”

Charles’ anger found a target in Darcy. “Yes, we all know your complete disdain for that family and those charming daughters, you could not look at any of them but to find fault, although Caroline emptied her spleen most particularly at Miss Elizabeth! I was not remotely disturbed by their want of propriety or their excess of spirits and liveliness in company! What convinced me was your conviction that Miss Bennet had no regard for me, that she was being directed by her mother to receive my addresses and her heart was not touched. I did not want to believe you, and in my heart I did not – she was angelic perfection itself - she still is! Sweetness, serenity, gentleness, she is goodness embodied, Darcy. I have not met her equal and I do not believe I ever will. And you succeeded in separating us! I should never have listened, my own fault, too easily directed by a friend – heh – you remember that conversation at Netherfield. Miss Elizabeth thought to compliment my biddable temper! Darcy, I cannot believe - but what is your proof this time? You have not seen her, have you? You have just returned to London yourself, is she still here?” Bingley was torn between outrage at his sisters, disgust at his own want of courage and desperate hope that it might not be too late. All of which led him to pound the table, leap from his seat and pace about the room.

Darcy completed his confession, trying to moderate the actions of his sisters and yet be unflinching in his honesty about his own failings. He was circumspect also when it came to his understanding with Elizabeth. Bingley was too focused on the tumult of his own heart to notice the complete sea change in Darcy’s attitude towards the entire Bennet family and did not question it when he explained his coincidental reacquaintance with the lady in Kent, which led to his confession. “I am sorry Bingley, I should not have hidden her being in town before I left. That was beneath me, and it was simply wrong. I am ashamed that I stooped so low.”

“She was in town all January! Here I was thinking Caroline insisted I stay with you in Mayfair at that time simply because she wanted more of an excuse to call at Darcy House. I would not have believed it of them, Darcy. How will I ever trust them again? At least you have confessed to it all and, devil take it, if I don’t believe you really were thinking of my best interests. Heart of gold underneath that forbidding countenance, Fitz.” He smiled, and then scowled, “I’ll not forgive you, not until I see her again and see if I can salvage anything. I will need to speak to my agent, get things ready to return to Netherfield and call on Miss Bennet at the first opportunity I can.”

“Bingley, do you recall that I told you Miss Elizabeth and I travelled from Kent to London, with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Maria Lucas? We dropped them with their relations, the Gardiners in Cheapside yesterday. Miss Bennet is still residing with them, Charles. I am intending to call on them tomorrow morning, with Richard. Do you think, would you like to accompany us, or would you prefer me to arrange another meeting? We are taking them all to the Theatre Royal on Wednesday evening, you are welcome to meet us there or indeed be one of our party, in my box?”

“She is still here? She has been here all this time?!” Bingley stilled as the import of this revelation sank in. “Tomorrow, Fitz, I will join you tomorrow. I will not think of anything beyond tomorrow morning.” Bingley strode from the room and out of Darcy House without so much as a backward glance at his bemused friend, clearly happier, and purposeful, but also deeply agitated at his sisters’ mercenary betrayal. Darcy knew Bingley’s desire to avoid conflict would be at war with his need to confront his sisters. He knew not which would win out, but the victor would set the tone for his future felicity or lack thereof, with Miss Bennet, or his sisters.

The next morning, Bingley arrived, with luggage that was taken up to his usual room, while Darcy was still at breakfast and the Colonel barely out of bed. “Knew you’d be up early and couldn’t stand being in the same house with Caroline and Louisa for another minute. Supper was horrible. I had to confront them, couldn’t eat a thing for the nauseating lies they told to my face. I could tell Hurst was a trifle embarrassed at the subterfuge, but he just continued drinking. I used to wonder at it but given he must live with both of my sisters for most of the year, I am no longer surprised.

You are most assuredly no longer Bachelor numero uno at Grosvenor Street, my friend. I take it you will patch things up with Caroline at some point – I assume things have advanced apace between you since you’ve taken to colluding with her against me?” Bingley had helped himself to a muffin, eggs and bacon as his appetite had clearly returned, while Darcy was staring at him open-mouthed as his poached egg dripped silently from his raised fork onto his breeches.

Bingley’s half smile broke into a wide guffaw when he turned back to the table to see the effect his words had made. Darcy breathed again, noted the yolk congealing on his leg and muttered an oath under his breath. He was not smiling, though Bingley did not care a whit in his mirth. “It is good to see you again, Charles, I had not noticed how much of you had disappeared these last few months.” Bingley sobered momentarily, but the sheer joy he felt at the chance for happiness he now had, that he had believed lost for ever, bubbled up to the surface, unable to be contained.

This was Bingley’s gift to Darcy, unbridled joy and optimism. His buoyant and effervescent nature helped to lift Darcy’s spirits, cajoling him from the doldrums of life. Bingley was instrumental in helping Darcy find his way back to hope when he lost his father, and though he often grumbled at his boundless energy and regularly upbraided him for forcing him to be in company, he knew Bingley was the main reason he had no longer felt alone in the world. He hoped he would always remember and repent of the part he played in almost erasing that part of his best friend, and he prayed that he would soon be able to add to his memories the part he was about to play in its permanent reversal.

The carriage rumbled almost as much from Bingley’s jittering legs as it did from its passage over London’s cobbled streets. Colonel Fitzwilliam kept up a steady chatter almost singlehandedly while the other two kept their own counsel in much the same fashion as not casting up their accounts. Both looked a little green by the time the carriage pulled up in front of Gracechurch Street, with Darcy as invested in Bingley’s good reception as Bingley himself. The Colonel was excessively diverted by their discomposure and scolded them good naturedly to buck up and stop letting the side down.

It was the work of a chaotic moment, and they were together in the Gardiner’s gracious parlour. Jane’s serenity was fractured, but only to her sister’s keen eye. She appeared as diffident and calm as normal, and if her hands were gripped tighter around the teapot as she poured, it was only when Bingley addressed her that they shook almost imperceptibly. Elizabeth could see that Bingley was as enamoured of her as ever, but Jane’s refusal to look at him directly for longer than a glance was evidence that she would take her time before she gave herself permission to return his affections more openly. Jane’s untroubled serenity was just as Darcy remembered, and he began to fear he had brought Bingley on a fool’s errand. He relaxed when he saw that Charles was not perturbed in the slightest, seeming prepared to win her all over again if he had to. Darcy turned his attentions to his betrothed with whom Richard had been flirting shamelessly in an effort to draw her attention away from Jane and Charles. She smothered a laugh at something Richard had said, which Darcy surmised was about him, by her apologetic glance and his gleeful one.

He turned to Mr Gardiner, apologised for his distraction and began asking him pointed questions about his business dealings. On the pretext of needing advice about an investment, which was less of a pretext now that Darcy could see Mr Gardiner’s experience and knowledge was indeed useful in the matter he had raised, he expressed a desire for a private conversation during the morning. Mr Gardiner, having expected the request, and assuming it was just a pretext, invited Darcy to join him immediately in his study. He was mildly surprised when the discussion continued at length for some time, but he gave the advice and asked the relevant questions he would otherwise have. Darcy even requested the use of pen and ink to take down some pertinent information and the direction of several of Mr Gardiner’s business associates before he recollected his true purpose.

“I thank you for your time, Mr Gardiner and really appreciate your advice on this matter, but I have another purpose for requesting a private interview at this time. Your niece, Miss Elizabeth and I, have lately come to an understanding, and I would like to formally request your permission to call upon her while she is staying with you. I believe she has made your wife and her sister aware of our circumstances, and you do not appear to be overly surprised by this news, but I wished to assure you, as her guardian and most immediate protector while she resides with you in London, that I have nothing but the most honourable intentions, and but for Elizab- Miss Elizabeth’s desire to maintain a strictly private courtship during her stay in London, I would have ridden to Longbourn today to seek her father’s permission and set the date for our wedding.” Darcy gave his first rueful smile at this point and pocketed the paper he had been wringing throughout his brief speech.

Edward Gardiner smiled his approbation and assured Darcy that he had no doubt of his honour, and that it would be a pleasure to welcome him into the family and get to know him better before Lizzy returned to Longbourn. “My wife is also hoping to be able to share some fond reminiscences with you as she spent the better part of her girlhood in Lambton and has not been able to return for many years as my business has not allowed me time to travel further afield than Hertfordshire and she insists she desires my company too much to travel without me. We had hoped to invite Lizzy to join us on a tour of the Lake District this summer, and though it may have to be curtailed for reasons other than your nuptials, I hope to be able to take Madeline as far as Lambton at least.”

“I, or hopefully, we, would be delighted to welcome you to Pemberley at any time. Miss Elizabeth and I have discussed plans for a wedding trip. I do know she desires to visit Pemberley before she becomes its mistress. I believe she is teasing me but is most insistent that she cannot agree to marry me until she meets the jewel in my crown.”

“That sounds exactly like Lizzy,” Mr Gardiner chortled.

“If, however, she is serious, I cannot think of a better arrangement than if she travels with you and Mrs Gardiner early in the summer. I would dearly love to marry her in the chapel at Pemberley, but that has been ruled out, and in truth, I cannot fault her reasoning. We will marry in August, from Longbourn, take a leisurely route North as our wedding trip and be in Pemberley towards the beginning of October and before the snows really set in. I confess I have never looked forward to winter at Pemberley more.”

Mr Gardiner raised his eyebrows at this, and Mr Darcy’s countenance went from wistful longing to embarrassed schoolboy caught with his fingers in the biscuit barrel. He cleared his throat, rose, bowed and thanked Mr Gardiner, accepting that gentleman’s brief wave and quiet chuckle in response. He was going to have to watch those two, and perhaps suggest a much shorter engagement than they were planning. He did not think Mr Darcy would need much convincing.

On his way back to the parlour, Edward Gardiner stopped to admire the miniatures he had arranged on his bookshelf. His eldest nieces had been born before his marriage, later in life than he had intended, but cherished all the more for its superior felicity, and he had developed as strong an attachment to them as was possible for a single young man who had travelled widely in pursuit of his profession and experience. He had kept all their letters, had insisted on paying for their portraits which he carried with him everywhere, and even insisted that Madeline meet them to gain their approval before he married her. He knew they would adore each other. He was delighted to see that Elizabeth had managed to find a gentleman worthy of her spirit, her wit and her devotion. She was destined for greatness, Lizzy, but she needed a strong man who could withstand her sharp edges, and maybe smooth them a little. He would take a very good look at Mr Bingley in the coming days to see if he merited Jane’s attentions. He appeared much more the skittish colt to Elizabeth’s refined thoroughbred stallion, but he was younger and perhaps time was all that was needed.

---

CHAPTER 16

The Earl and Lady Chilton stood in the saloon to the private boxes of the Theatre Royal, greeting acquaintances with a nod and a smile and talking quietly to Colonel Fitzwilliam and their eldest son, Viscount Harley. The Viscountess was indisposed and unable to attend but there was an air of restrained hopefulness in Harley and his mother that gave Richard cause to hope and pray. As far as he knew, this would be the fourth such opportunity, and his sister-in-law was under the strictest of regimens from the surgeon, who had trained under the auspices of Dr Henry Halford, physician to the King, and was therefore not to be gainsaid.

It was one of many subjects difficult to broach with Harley and so Richard never did. As brothers, they had never been close, in fact Richard probably had more meaningful conversations with Isabelle than with her husband. Perhaps that had been part of the problem. Richard had carried on a mild flirtation with the older woman, before Harley had claimed her. Neither were heartbroken, but theirs was a sincere friendship, and it was not just for his own sake that he prayed for a child for Isabella. A son would take some pressure off his own matrimonial expectations, but he knew Isabella longed for children. It had been a trying six years.

He nodded at a fellow officer, glancing frequently at the stairs, in expectation of the Darcy party’s arrival at any moment. Per Miss Elizabeth’s wishes, and against his and Darcy’s better judgment, he had not prepared his family for the arrival of the Bennet & Gardiner family in any way, except as new acquaintances from Darcy’s trip to Hertfordshire with Bingley. He trusted to the better understanding his family had of Darcy for the correct leaps to be made. Darcy had never raised a single, eligible female or her family to the notice of his Fitzwilliam relations in the last seven seasons, so this was a marked attention indeed, regardless of how she was described to them. Inclusion in a family dinner in two days’ time could not be misconstrued either. Darcy’s affability was well-known in Pemberley but very well-hidden in London. Lady Chilton was not a gossip, but Elizabeth was going to be the talk of the ton before this night was through.

“Oh, Thomas, that cannot be Lady Marguerite, can it? I cannot understand a word she says since Richard convinced her that I was the one who taught him Spanish!” Richard laughed while his mother glared at him over her fan. “It is not Fair Marguerite, Mother, that woman is far too tall. I think it is the Earl of Jersey’s new paramour, they all said she was a raven-haired beauty!” Lady Chilton managed to look relieved and disapproving at the same time before she flicked the earl lightly on the arm with her fan for looking a little too closely at the tall, dark temptress.

Harley had begun quietly regaling his brother with the chatter he had picked up from Brooks and was half-way through a sordid tale involving the Earl of Devon and an art collector when the Darcy party emerged at the top of the staircase. Darcy was actually smiling as he spoke to the diminutive beauty on his arm, resplendent in a gown of pale yellow, tastefully embroidered with darker yellow trim and cut to fully enhance her figure. She made as magnificent an entry as Richard could have hoped, for her sake, and the tall, blonde angel in a sparkling blue creation beside Bingley, ensured that many heads were turned to mark their approach. Richard could hear the wave of silence followed by hushed whispers, rippling in their wake as they advanced towards them.

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mirth and nervous energy, Darcy was as close as he could be to a lovesick mooncalf and Richard knew there was no chance Elizabeth could be perceived as anything other than the woman who had stolen the heart of one of the most recalcitrant and sought-after bachelors in England. The Gardiners followed, not troubled by the society surrounding them and noting with equanimity the attentions that their beautiful nieces were receiving. They had every confidence in the grace and dignity of their charges and were satisfied they would acquit themselves well next to their suitors.

Appropriately deferential curtseys and bows were made before the rather less formal introductions were performed by Colonel Fitzwilliam who liked to add amusing anecdotes about his family whenever they were introduced. Elizabeth was immediately put at ease, while Jane looked mildly alarmed. They made all the right speeches in the usual introductory greetings before the conversation devolved into more intimate groupings. Lady Chilton claimed Elizabeth and began a very cordial but nonetheless intrusive interview determining in a very short space of time all the relevant particulars about her wealth, family and consequence. Elizabeth feeling all the heightened tension of the moment was yet able to express herself well, with intelligence, adding the little details of her life that make the simple facts about a person come alive.

She had steered the conversation away from herself in bringing up her recent visit to Kent and with her inimical wit had managed to unite truth with civility in her descriptions of the parsonage and her cousin. Imbuing her words with the warmth naturally evoked by her friendship with Charlotte she was able to speak of Rosings and Hunsford with delicacy and tact. Her developing regard for Miss de Bourgh was received with surprise by the Countess and her ability to parlay an opportunity to disparage Lady Catherine’s conduct into a graceful exposition on her obvious care for her daughter did not go unnoticed. They had begun to speak of art and the works she had viewed at Knole House, when it became time to enter the boxes. The party divided and made their way into their adjacent boxes and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief that the first gauntlet was run, and she was not yet wounded.

Mr Gardiner had spoken briefly to the Earl, who had not warmed to the genteel tradesman, but the conversation was forwarded by Darcy and the Colonel, and both could see that the Earl was not unaffected by the dignity and intelligence betrayed by the accomplished businessman, even if his grudging respect may be buried under generations of misplaced superiority. It mattered little to either Gardiner or Darcy, as both were known to each other now, and they enjoyed the opportunity to further their relationship. That Darcy was aware how well Mr Gardiner expressed himself in front of the Earl, with deference, but no false humility or cringing obeisance, certainly did not make the conversation any less enjoyable. The Colonel drifted between Bingley, Mrs Gardiner and Jane, incidental players on this stage.

Elizabeth delighted in her first experience of the theatre in a private box. She enjoyed the spectacle from the stalls and had loved to watch the preening and display in the boxes above, never once thinking she would have her turn to be on show. She realised that perhaps her prejudice against those above, while not marked, had limited her perception of these people as simply, people. She valued equality as an academic idea, but her prejudices against people of wealth, ostensibly within her sphere but, in reality, far above her, had reduced them to stereotypes. She realised that part of how she would survive in this world would be to recognise and empathise with the people she formerly despised and degraded. She knew she was being attended to in much the same way by her fellow creatures in the stalls, and that she had not materially changed, though her last admittance to the Theatre Royal had seen her seated below. She stepped to the edge of the box and made no attempt to disguise her delight as she took in the views of the stage, the boxes and seating around her. She loved everything about coming to the theatre and was pleased her position of prominence had not diminished this. She turned an expression of heartfelt delight upon Darcy who was conversing with the other two gentlemen in the back of the box while the ladies looked around and made themselves comfortable.

He could not resist coming to her, and taking her hand, he placed a quick kiss on it before helping her to her seat. There was an audible gasp from the boxes within view, which both ignored, though it did take the edge off Elizabeth’s enjoyment of the moment. She glanced toward the Fitzwilliam box to see the Earl’s stony countenance and the Colonel’s suppressed mirth behind him. Lady Chilton was not in view though Elizabeth could see her fan waving agitatedly. Turning an embarrassed smile to Darcy she whispered, “I am sorry. I am still an unrefined country miss, even if I am wearing my newest and finest gown (thank you Aunt) and bedecked in her borrowed jewels! I know it is unseemly to register happiness or even mild approbation in these elevated circumstances! But I cannot help myself, I have always loved the theatre, the people, the excitement, the drama, and then the entertainment begins! You are smiling,” she almost reached a hand up to caress his cheek, “so I think it is safe to assume I have not embarrassed you, at least. Though I can’t be blamed for having a hand kissed by a handsome gentleman, I do apologise for embarrassing your relations. I will try to behave more sedately now that the first flush of excitement has passed. I think we may have undone all the gains I won with my first, rather excellent - if I do say so myself – conversation with the Countess. What do you think, Mr Darcy?”

“I think we can be happy with the progress made so far, Miss Elizabeth, if we assume we took two steps forward, and perhaps only one step back, then we are still ahead?”

She reached for his hand, beneath the general view of the public, and laughed, “In all honesty, Mr Darcy, the little girl inside my heart that is squealing ‘I had a conversation with a COUNTESS!’ believes we are so far ahead that the point is moot!”

“Lizzy!” came the laughing admonishment from Jane, while her aunt was blissfully unaware in the seat beyond.

“Do you think she heard me in the other box, Jane? I’m sure she didn’t, even Aunt Gardiner does not seem to have heard.”

Bingley and Mr Gardiner had joined them by this time, arranging their seats to be able to view the stage best. Darcy, contriving another excuse to lean close to Elizabeth, handed her the playbill for her perusal. King Richard the Third was not one of her favourite Shakespeare plays, so she was therefore less familiar with it and found the dramatic synopsis helpful. Looking around her, Elizabeth noted the descent into degeneracy that was occurring in the darker reaches of the public and private boxes and below in the stalls. Having attended the theatre with her aunt and uncle in previous visits, though appropriately chaperoned and chivvied away from the worst of the excesses, she was nevertheless struck at the upright propriety of Mr Darcy. She knew gentlemen of his age and station had endless opportunity to engage in every vice and indulgence they wished, immune from the consequences precisely because of their wealth and consequence, especially if they were able to regulate their activities stealthily. There were plenty of examples of those who had fallen from grace, not merely because they had dabbled in these debauches, but because their lack of control had caused them to lose their wealth or consequence, invariably both.

Genteel poverty could be dignified, but not impoverished dissipation. The rank hypocrisy of it all irritated Elizabeth, but it brought her back to Darcy and her first impressions. She felt renewed chagrin at her flagrant abuses against his character for overhearing his slight of her, and hot shame as she recalled her tender sentiments for the reprobate Wickham. His vehement disgust at the proclivities of Mr Wickham had not been purely because of the proximity and risk to his sister, his sensibilities were genuinely offended by such ungentlemanly behaviour. From the revelations he had shared of his childhood, Elizabeth had surmised a sweet naivete in the young Fitzwilliam, encouraged by his closeness to his mother, and protected deep within him at her early death. The part of him that revered her had never moved on from this hopeful innocence. He had protected it with a natural pride, which perhaps had not been as well regulated as it could have been, but his prideful and haughty demeanour had not extinguished it. His attraction to Elizabeth, to her impertinence and her modest country charm, extolling a love of the natural world, integrity and sincere connection, spoke to this innocent naivete in him. He was a successful man of the world, completely accustomed to his position and authority, but she had awoken that which had lain dormant, the cynosure of his life and the driving force behind all his decisions. She felt again the compliment of his affection and could naught but be grateful.

As she had been musing on these things, her eyes had fallen, unseeing, on the action on the stage and she realised she had missed most of the opening scenes. Mr Darcy stretched his long limbs to the side of her chair, and she let her arm fall, ever so casually, to allow her fingertips to rest just below his knee. She blinked at her own boldness, blamed the heat and her wayward thoughts, further scandalised herself by giving him a parting squeeze and withdrew her hand to brush a non-existent crumb from her skirt. He did not move his leg until the end of the act.

They stayed for the five acts, partook of refreshments ordered by Darcy and were visited by several Darcy and Fitzwilliam acquaintances, which also prompted a generous invitation for the Bennet sisters and the Gardiners to attend a ball, that Darcy had originally planned to decline, next week. They took a turn about the saloon and ventured no further than the private boxes below them as the activities below took a decidedly more lascivious turn after the second-price tickets were sold. Elizabeth was invited to join Lady Chilton in her box for the fourth act and enjoyed a quiet conversation, recognising the attentions were effectively a set scene in the play that was being performed and watched for the benefit of the ton. The Earl was aloof but not discourteous, itself a part of the drama identifying Elizabeth as a person of interest, yes, but not necessarily given the full stamp of approval. She was grateful for the circumspect attention – it had the appearance of integrity, if not in essence.
She was a nobody from nowhere, it would be the height of disingenuousness for the Earl and Lady Chilton to fawn over her at their first public meeting. Her conversations in the box gave her the opportunity to learn much about the notable persons she had met and catch a glimpse of how to begin navigating life amongst these people. She was exhausted by the end of the act, trying to be her usual artless and open self, yet without giving too much away, and not being overcome by the artifice of it all.

She almost sagged with relief when Darcy appeared at the box door within seconds of the lowering curtains to claim her for a promised walk. It was the most public moment of privacy they would have that night and she enjoyed his closeness, leaning into his strength and noting the baleful looks they received from every second woman they passed. No warm-blooded woman could fail to exult a little with each glance, so she stood a little taller, lifted her head just a fraction higher and smiled a little more imperiously until she caught Darcy’s wry smile. Her soft laughter broke his smile into a wide grin, and she began primping at his side affecting Lydia’s dulcet tones as she sashayed through the corridors commenting on the lack of red coats in the vicinity before clinging to his arm and exclaiming how tired she was.

The Gardiners had refused the kind offer to return to Darcy House for supper that evening, both needing to be awake for their daily business of raising children and earning an income, so carriages were ordered, and the crush descended through, after the final act. Elizabeth could barely remember the action on stage, which was vaguely disappointing to her as the carriage wound its way through packed city streets. She hoped that in some distant future with Darcy she might be able to simply enjoy the entertainment, either without needing to be concerned about the social implications of her every conversation, or just being so comfortable with it all it had become second nature.

---

CHAPTER 17

“Miss Bennet! Miss Eliza! How charming to run into you here at Gunter’s. Why, I had no idea you were both in town still.” Caroline Bingley, purveyor and procurer of all the latest gossip in London was considerate in her attentions to the Bennet sisters, being all that was affectionate and insincere. They turned in surprise to look at the woman behind them. They were seated at a table for four, with Mrs Gardiner and her eldest daughter Phoebe seated on a table adjacent. Their gentlemen were both selecting ices for them, having accompanied them for an outing to the British Museum that morning.

The Misses Bennet looked at one another and while the younger was on the point of issuing the cut direct, she nodded imperceptibly to the elder’s discreet entreaty (a slight widening of the eyes which hardly anyone else would have noticed) and they rose as one with the utmost dignity, nodded and replied, “Miss Bingley”. As she was the one to approach them, the responsibility for forwarding the civilities belonged to her. There was a brief pause, where Elizabeth’s mouth thinned slightly and Jane’s generous heart offered a slight smile, and then Miss Bingley spoke again.

“I have just been to my modiste for the finishing touches on my new ball gown for the Matlock Ball next week. You would not know them, they move in different circles to those in Gracechurch Street. It is a shame Miss Darcy is not out yet, I believe she is to return to town shortly and Charles would have loved to dance with her there. They have been much in company since we left Netherfield, and I believe I mentioned my dearest wish in one of my letters to you, Jane? It would be a desirable match for both families, I assure you.” Caroline’s smile faltered as she saw that Jane’s countenance barely registered her speech, while Elizabeth’s smile grew inordinately wider with every word she uttered.

“Indeed, Miss Bingley. As you are so familiar with the vagaries of your brother’s heart, is it your opinion that he is willing to wait for Miss Darcy’s coming out in 2 years’ time? He must be head over heels in love to demonstrate such constancy of affection, think you not, Jane?” Jane, although desirous of not being the cause of a breach in the Bingley family, nevertheless proved herself as disagreeable as she was capable of being, by not attempting to censure her sister for her merciless response. She merely inclined her head to her sister and then mildly raised an eyebrow to Miss Bingley.

“Oh well, I don’t pretend to know the exact parameters of my brother’s heart, Miss Eliza, but surely a Darcy of Pemberley is worth waiting for?”

“I suspect you would be best placed to answer that question, Miss Bingley. I have heard it said that a woman’s love can survive much longer and against much greater odds than a man’s. Sometimes even surviving when existence or when all hope is gone. As I have not had the pleasure of meeting Miss Darcy yet, I will defer my opinion of whether she is worth waiting for, but I can certainly attest to one Darcy of Pemberley being eminently worth the wait, and even worth brooking much opposition for. What say you, Mr Darcy?” She had the grace to look a little sheepish at her unladylike triumph, but not until after Miss Bingley turned and took in the two gentlemen behind her, one fuming, the other utterly diverted by Elizabeth’s unabashed praise of him.

“Caroline.” Charles Bingley bit the greeting out as he had caught the last part of Elizabeth’s speech, which he knew she had intended for him to hear, and instantly surmised the nature of Miss Bingley’s malicious dissembling to his angel. His fists clenched and flexed as he debated how to not assault his sister as he had been wont to do as a child when she had interfered with his possessions, or casually lied about her own misbehaviour to get him in to trouble. He had always been amiable, never instigating grief, and as such was an easy target for the playground antics of his spoiled little sister.

“Charles! How delightful to see you, I have just stumbled across Miss Bennet and her sister. I did not know they were both in town.” Caroline transitioned so smoothly from malicious harpy to dutiful sister it was almost a wonder to behold. Her ability to speak falsehoods with such sincerity and charm could have fooled anyone, apart from the four people currently bearing witness to it. “And Mr Darcy, how delightful to see you. I’m sure you remember the eldest Bennet sisters of Longbourn? I am hoping to call on Miss Darcy upon her return to town, I thought I heard from Lady Matlock that she is on her way as we speak. Will she be attending the ball?”

“Miss Bingley. My sister is returning this week and will be much engaged during her stay in London. She will not be in a position to accept callers, and as she is not out yet, will not be attending any balls or public functions of that kind.” Darcy was only mildly irritated at Caroline’s unparalleled misuse of the Darcy name. “My sister is also far too young to be considering gentleman callers, and none of our friends would ever dare to associate her name in company with any eligible men of our acquaintance or spread false reports about her attachments.”

Caroline visibly swallowed but held her head high and continued to smile. Elizabeth, noting Bingley’s rising colour and struggle to master his emotion, added, not entirely helpfully, “Yes, Mr Darcy, we are so looking forward to meeting Miss Darcy at a family dinner on Friday at Darcy House, thank you again for including our London family. And Miss Bingley, I should also add that Lady Matlock graciously extended an invitation for both of us Bennet sisters to attend her Ball next Tuesday as Lady Chilton’s guests, when we met her at the Theatre Royal with the Countess last week. We are also to attend Madame Rosalind’s today for our final dress fittings – another gift from my aunt and uncle Gardiner.” She paused and gestured to her aunt and cousin, who were following the conversation with interest. “We have all just spent a delightful morning at the British Museum, where Mr Darcy has taken us through a series of antiquities that were recently gifted from the Fitzwilliam Gallery in Cambridge. We do feel thoroughly spoiled by our family and friends here in London and only hope we can comport ourselves with appropriate gravitas, despite being simple country folk.” Elizabeth felt quite proud of herself for not appearing to enjoy that moment overmuch.

Bingley had by this time mastered his fury and stepped closer to his sister, offering her his arm and leading her away from the table. Jane watched his path with such compassion and warmth that Elizabeth almost felt she was intruding on an intimate moment. From a distance, it appeared as though the siblings were having a regular conversation, but Jane could see from the stiffness of his posture that Bingley was in the throes of a very emotional exchange. Caroline’s smile became brittle but to the last she refused to be cowed, and sparing one last desperate glance at Darcy, gave her brother a perfunctory curtsey and walked out of the tearooms. He continued to watch her from the window. She cut a lonely figure, attended by a footman, who was carrying a number of parcels, and was clearly heading to the Hurst family home which was on the other side of the square.

Shaken, but wishing to appear resolute, Bingley took a moment to gather himself before he returned to his friends. They had all watched the entire scene, unmoving until Caroline had left, before taking their seats. Elizabeth had been disposed to be amused at the interaction but recognising her resolution to navigate this new elevated circle with some empathy and spurred by the obvious compassion she saw in Jane, she realised how vulnerable Caroline had allowed herself to become to the vicissitudes of life in the ton. There was an element of laying in the bed of one’s own making, but if Jane was to become her sister, Caroline’s happiness, or inability to find it, in marriage or simply in life, would materially damage Jane and Bingley’s felicity. Neither demonstrated an ability or desire to live well in constant conflict with their closest relations, so it was in their interest to forward her happiness too. She firmly believed what she had declared in jest to Caroline. One Darcy would provide such extraordinary sources of happiness to the woman necessarily attached to his situation that she could have no cause, on the whole, to repine almost any heavy misfortune. But she knew she was different to Jane, not that she was stronger, but that, having grown up understanding that she could, at the same time, rarely please one parent, while rarely displeasing the other, she had learned early that the ability to please had more to do with the person being pleased than the person doing the pleasing. She had instead decided to be one of those people who were satisfied enough in themselves that they were able to find pleasure in the follies and nonsense of others without being overly concerned by those who found displeasure in her own whims and inconsistencies.

It was impossible not to canvas the disturbance while waiting for their refreshments to arrive. Bingley had not seen or communicated with either of his sisters since he removed to Darcy House. He had not confided in them his intentions, his movements or the presence in London of the Bennet sisters. If Caroline had been speaking to Lady Matlock since their appearance at the Theatre Royal, or more likely her daughter Constance, she would have heard the whispers of the two unknown country gentlewomen from Hertfordshire currently gracing the arms of Darcy and Bingley. He would not be shaken from his purpose yet again, but he did not wish to live in enmity with his own sisters if he did not have to. He just did not know how to reconcile his peaceable desires with their mercenary ambitions for him. He just wanted them to be happy, why could they not want the same for him?

He had voiced this thought aloud at the close of his recitation, then shook his head, annoyed at his own naivete. Jane reached out and squeezed his forearm reassuringly. “Mr Bingley, it does you credit to desire to be on good terms with your family, just take care not to take on the responsibility for their behaviour also.” Here she glanced at Elizabeth who had opened her mouth to speak, “I know, Lizzy, it is advice I must take to my own heart too! I have always trusted you to safeguard my boundaries, dearest, and you protected my heart and my honour with dedicated ferocity, but that does not mean I did not see that I needed to shore up my defences too. Sometimes it is easier to protect someone else’s heart, rather than your own, hmm?” At this, she turned to her suitor, whose arm she was still squeezing, and added softly, “I believe we will get along very well, you and I, if we remember whose hearts we need to protect first.”

Darcy and Elizabeth became very interested in the ceiling roses above their heads and the ornate sconces in the adjacent walls, while Charles had time to gather his emotions, albeit from a very different direction this time. All were relieved when the ordered ices and marzipan arrived at the tables and the very unemotional business of devouring sweet nothings was undertaken. If the occasional masculine leg was brushed by the occasional feminine hand under the table, it was not remarked upon. The conversation turned to the delights they had viewed at the Museum and continued in like manner until the gentlemen accompanied all the ladies to their own modiste for their final ball gown fittings, and adieus until the next visit were made.

Phoebe was enchanted by Madame Rosalind’s establishment, this being her first visit, and many minutes were spent in her exclamations over the fabrics, the designs, the finery, and the gowns themselves. Elizabeth and Jane could not have asked for a more appreciative audience and Mrs Gardiner shrewdly appraised her eldest daughter’s gift for fabric selection and design in some of her suggestions. She resolved to include her more often in the selection of new gowns for herself, and maybe involve her in that part of her father’s business interests. Edward was frequently asking her advice on predicting trends in fabric patterns, colours and materials and she was hopeful that perhaps Phoebe could be of some assistance. She did always pore over the fabric and design patterns and swatches at home but seeing her come alive at the modiste was a revelation, especially given her age. At length, the fittings were completed, and the dresses promised to be ready for collection in time for the Matlock Ball early next week.

---

CHAPTER 18

Elizabeth had settled it that Mr Darcy would bring his sister to visit her, the very day after her reaching London; and was consequently resolved not to be out of sight of the house the whole of that morning. But her conclusion was false; for on the very day of her arrival, these visitors would come to Gracechurch Street.

Georgiana had barely greeted her brother, in her accustomed way since she had been a child; by leaping into his arms at a run and peppering sweet kisses on his cheeks, before she declared, “I must meet Miss Bennet today, Swizz, I must! I have been unable to sit still and driven poor Mrs Annesley to distraction for the entire journey and I declare I will burst if I cannot see her today!”

Darcy’s heart swelled to almost bursting point to see the unaffected joy in his sister’s countenance and was unable to do otherwise than grant her wish. She had responded on paper to his regular missives about his progress with Elizabeth with great warmth and alacrity, but it was an extra boon to see it reflected in her person. She had almost returned to what she was before Wickham destroyed her innocence, and it made Darcy’s joy complete. He hoped and believed that the two women he held dearest in his heart would come to love one another also. They were both predisposed to it, and he hoped and prayed that it would be so.

The hopeful siblings were on their way in 2 hours, Mrs Annesley insisting that her charge take a proper meal and refresh herself before going calling, so it was not until well after the usual calling hours that they presented themselves at the entrance to Gracechurch Street. The Misses Bennet had been spending the afternoon with their cousins and Jane was the most easily extracted as it was Lizzy who was tucked up in bed with her namesake and the next oldest, Edward Junior, who insisted on having the tale of Little Red Riding Hood read through to the end before he would relinquish his cousin. He took the part of the wolf very seriously. Little Lillybet was already fast asleep.

Jane and Mrs Gardiner greeted their visitors warmly, rang for refreshments and began the task of peeling back the layers of the shy and diffident young woman sitting with her brother. She was tall, and well-formed, but still a little uncomfortable in her person, having grown into the physical shape of a woman before she was ready to take on the full mantle of womanhood. She was obviously nervous and desperate to please, disappointed not to have met Elizabeth yet and like her brother, frequently glancing towards the parlour door. Mrs Gardiner took pity and offered to go up and hurry Lizzy along as they had spent nearly 10 minutes waiting already. Mr Darcy stood, hoping to join Mrs Gardiner. It would not be the first time he had entered the children’s rooms. Darcy often found Elizabeth in the nursery and school room and had been welcomed so assiduously into their family that he accompanied her to gather toys and possessions for their regular outings to the park, which were usually only chaperoned by the children. There can be no better chaperone to a courting couple than 1, or even 4, demanding children. If he spent most of the hour carrying a child, it was at least the one Elizabeth upon whom he could shower affection and kisses in public.

Mrs Gardiner nodded him out, leaving him to find his own way, while she stayed to serve the refreshments. All was quiet in the nursery when he opened the door and found Elizabeth in a quandary of attempting to rise without disturbing the two sleeping children beside and upon her. He swiftly came in and gently eased EJ to one side and then lifted the snoring Lillybet into his arms while Elizabeth extracted herself from beneath the bedclothes and attempted to rearrange herself. He deposited little Lizzy and tucked her in with a quick peck on her cheek and looked up to find his Lizzy repinning her hair. He captured an escaping lock and pretended to assist her when all he wanted to do was wind her curls around his fingers. She tugged them away and made the mistake of looking up in mock exasperation. He was unable to resist capturing her lips and she was lost for a moment, connected by a breath and transported to a hazy picture of shared dreams, a family, a life, together. He broke the kiss, but not the connection and she blinked to bring him into focus.

“Do you know, it is awfully hard to pick an eye to focus on when we are nose to nose. In fact, pretty much all I see is your nose up this close. Lucky for you it is a fine regal nose, but I suspect I am now cross-eyed, am I not? Is that why kissing couples usually close their eyes?” He kissed her pert nose. “Can you please come down now and relieve my poor sister’s agitation, which according to Mrs Annesley, began the minute I asked her to come to town and will not desist until she has met you?” She finished fixing her hair, adjusted her gown, glanced at Darcy for approval and led him out of the nursery. He stopped to tuck EJ in and gave them both a soft kiss on their heads, as though this was an everyday occurrence. As they made their way down the hall Elizabeth noted, “It really should be mandatory to conduct all aspects of a courtship around children, if at all possible. It is quite the only way to ascertain a gentleman’s true amiableness. I mean one must truly be generous of heart, with the patience and kindness of a saint to even feign to love another man’s child. It is not something for the faint of heart – especially for a prolonged courtship or engagement.”

“Indeed, but how shall you contrive to have a James, a Phoebe, an Edward and a Lillybet on hand for just such a courtship, if one does not also have an aunt and uncle Gardiner to stay with and call upon? Should we seek out children in parks and foist them on our unsuspecting suitors?"

“No, this bears some consideration though. I believe I shall write a book, Mr Darcy. The Elizabeth Bennet Guide to Happily Ever After , or some such title. I will detail exactly how one should be in order to attract the right sort of gentleman, as well as some rules of courtship and good ways to determine if he is the right kind of man, that sort of thing. I should think it will be more useful and practical than anything Fordyce has written on the subject, though it would be as well to canvas his work. I shall discuss it at length with Mary, that will save me the trouble of reading it. It would be just the kind of book that would be also useful for those proud, disagreeable types who can’t be introduced in a ballroom and won’t condescend to practice small talk so as to carry on a conversation with a stranger.”

They had by now entered the parlour so Darcy’s response had to be whispered so as not to be heard by all, “Miss Bennet, had I the benefit of such a book as you suggest, a few months ago, even now your title would have to be updated to reflect a new name, and you would perhaps not have time to begin such a project, being so constantly engaged in your new duties as Mistress of-”. He broke off grinning with waggled eyebrows as she sputtered with a combination of a gasp and giggle and swatted at his arm in chastisement. He turned to Georgiana and finally answered the dearest wish of her heart, which was to meet the lady who had captured his.

The meeting was everything everyone had hoped for. It could have hardly failed to be such, as the desire to be pleased and to be pleasing was evident in both to such a degree that there could be no chance of either being disappointed. Elizabeth’s empathy, already engaged by her intimate knowledge of her recent heartbreak was instantly excited by the younger woman’s almost painfully shy demeanour. Georgiana had been momentarily shocked by Darcy’s casual and jesting manner, so much more like himself at home, but so different than it had been every other time he was in company with eligible females, that it delighted her to see. Although she could not yet express that level of affability, she could see herself becoming more comfortable by degrees and with such an easy temper and constancy of affection in her companions it would surely make such levity more possible for her too.

Elizabeth engaged her on all the usual topics, before dwelling more deeply on her favourite, music, and her second favourite, animal husbandry. Music was a topic that could be comfortably canvassed in any parlour, so Elizabeth, sensing a desire to talk more deeply about her love for animals, drew her out on the subject. With frequent glances at her brother to make sure she wasn’t going to embarrass him, she began to speak at length about her childhood fascination with animals after she had been accidentally present for the birth of the next generation of Pemberley pointers when she was 9 years old. Far from being horrified, the little girl had been fascinated by the process, and although she had been admonished by her father for it, her interest had not waned.

Georgie had always taken a great interest in farm life and had been present for all the calving, foaling and lambing at the home farm since she had turned 12 and Darcy could no longer reasonably prevent her from attending. In all other matters she was quite tractable, but she insisted she would not faint, had been well-instructed by the Pemberley steward and the farm hands, who loved to indulge her interest, as well as her own extensive reading on the subject, and that she was past the age of just wanting to see “cute baby animals”. She had actually stamped her foot, with hands balled into fists at her waist, and rolled her eyes at her brother, who of course, relented and accompanied her. It had been barely 8 months after the loss of her father and Darcy could not continue with his father’s commands that she be kept away from such unladylike situations. In all other respects she was able to comport herself quite like the little lady, so he could not see the harm in allowing her interest in this area, especially as she was still so young.

She had been present the full seven hours it took for Siren to be birthed, asked intelligent questions, offered useful suggestions and did not complain once. She fell in love with the foal, which she named and was now hers, and had been welcomed to attend all other such arrivals at Pemberley when she could. She was already as conversant with most of Pemberley’s breeding programs as the steward, and more so than Darcy himself. Georgie had never spoken about such things to anyone in polite company, as she had always been assured of a horrified response in the saloons and drawing rooms of her previous acquaintances. Even Mrs Annesley had suggested avoiding the subject as much as possible. Darcy marvelled yet again at Elizabeth’s ability to put anyone at ease and to give everyone the space to be themselves. He was proud of Georgie’s gifts, her hard work and her determination, and he was more than glad that he had found a woman who would support his little sister as much as he did. Elizabeth would be able to find Georgie her happily ever after even if she never wrote that book.

That he had fought so hard against his attachment to her spoke so much of his misplaced pride and the cynicism and bitterness he had developed after the loss of his parents. He was still fighting it, truth be told, when he considered his fears around the upcoming social events where he was to introduce his bride. He trusted her to perform beyond expectations, to charm him and everyone else she met with her usual aplomb and grace, but he mistrusted himself, his inclinations and his ingrained deference to society’s expectations. He could not wait until the season was over, when they were married, and they could stay at Pemberley for as much as possible. It was one hope he had not yet shared with her; he feared it would count against him, so he was working up to that one.

© Janine van der Kooy 2022

CHAPTER 19

Darcy House was resplendent in all its finery as it welcomed the Fitzwilliam cousins within. Lady Chilton swept in on the arm of the Earl and greeted her niece and nephew warmly. The Viscount had arrived earlier and had been able to bring his wife Isabella with him, a family dinner being considered a safe enough activity for her and the opportunity to meet the Bennet Sisters, their favoured appellation within the ton, at length and with some intimacy was too good to pass up. The Bennets and Gardiners had arrived entirely too early to be fashionable, at Elizabeth’s insistence; she neither wanted to make a grand entry or be caught in the entrance hall admiring the décor. This was to be her first visit to the London home of the two Darcys of Pemberley. Thanks to Miss Bingley, she now preferred to address Mr Darcy as One Darcy of Pemberley whenever she could get away with it.

They had left The Gardiners and Jane to the company of Mr Bingley in the saloon, and Elizabeth had been conducted on a private tour of the residence by Georgiana and Mr Darcy. Elizabeth was making every effort to appear unruffled and calm, but from sighting the elegant town house in Mayfair from the carriage, to being conducted into its spacious and well-appointed home, she could no longer, in good conscience, ignore the full weight of grandeur and opulence encompassed by the phrase “ten thousand a year”. It surpassed Rosings in every way that mattered to Elizabeth, the rooms and furnishings bespoke a sense of taste and judgment that suggested the furnishings were chosen not just to please the eye or suit the latest fashion, unlike every room at Rosings. She could feel the weight, not just of wealth, but of inherited contentment – a kind of peace and acceptance of who you are, that was conveyed in the way each room was arranged, as well as in the casual way the siblings spoke about the house, in terms of what the rooms were most used for and by whom, rather than the cost of the chimney pieces or the number of glazed windows. It shared one aspect with Rosings that she could not like – a feeling, or rather an absence of feeling, lived-in. It left her with an odd mixture of intimidation and comfort, and she could not quite be comfortable with the sensation. She did not want to see the bed chambers, not willing to view anything so intimate yet.

It was not until she entered the library, which doubled as the master’s study as it did in Longbourn, that she understood the heart of the place. Darcy had walked in purposefully heading to his desk, absently gesturing to the full height bookshelves lining the walls, while he divested his coat pockets of notes, coins and papers to put into the appropriate drawers and receptacles of his desk. He had just finished saying that this was but a tenth of the main library housed at Pemberley when he looked up to hear Elizabeth gasp and turn on the spot, eyes burning with delight and a bubble of laughter escaping. “Oh, Mr Darcy, next time you propose just lead with this room! A tenth, you say?” Georgiana started to laugh. “Papa will say yes to anything you ask if you show him just this room, let alone the library at Pemberley!”

Elizabeth walked to the shelves, ran her hands over the gold embossed leather spines, leaning close enough to breathe them in and took a slow circumference of the space, noting the reserved décor, well-worn couches and wing back chairs by the modest fireplace, the heavy damask curtains covering the windows, the decided lack of gaudy refinements and sighed happily. She came to stand behind the desk next to Darcy, who had watched her progress with such hopeful tenderness that it made Georgiana slip away to give them some privacy. He had saved this room for last, for her, and he was amply rewarded. She rested her hand upon his, which he had placed on the back of his chair, to steady himself. She looked at his desk as she spoke. “This is your space, your favourite room at Darcy House?” He nodded, but realising she wasn’t looking at him, whispered, “Yes”.

“It is immediately and irrevocably mine also. This space feels like home. Will you mind sharing it with me?”

“I have pledged to share everything with you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

She looked up at him then, eyes sparkling, “I love everything about this room, it whispers your name in every detail, on every spine, in the fall of the curtain, the mahogany of the shelving, the parquetry of the desk, the ceiling roses, everything. I could never leave this room and be happy the rest of my days. Except that I must see Pemberley also. I am now a little afraid of its splendour. Do you think I will abandon my first love, so easily as it has won my heart? How despicably spoiled I have become.”

Darcy smiled. “This room is but a smaller model of the library at Pemberley, but I have a separate study at Pemberley. If you like this room, I am confident you will be happy there too.” He paused, and asked hesitatingly, “And... and shall you be happy to never leave Pemberley all of your days? I confess, I would wish to leave Pemberley much less often in future, if you are there with me.”

She had been speaking partly in jest, but she caught the change in his inflection, felt his fingers grip hers tighter where they lay entwined upon the chair. She was a social creature, but for the most part she had lived in a small country village, dining with four and twenty families, with short trips to London to visit family, but no wider connections to speak of, and she had not felt the loss. Her favourite pastimes were long walks in the country and reading for hours at a time, why on earth would she ever need to leave Pemberley? She recognised in him the fear that she would be like many other women, seeking to aggrandize herself in her elevated station by constant society, shopping and public displays. He had been amongst such women, endeavouring to find a bride for some 8 years, was it any wonder he might doubt the grounds of her attachment?

“If I am with you, Fitzwilliam? I feel at home here because this room resonates with your life, your essence. I don’t think I could feel at home where you are not. My heart resides here.” She pressed her hand to his heart, and he clasped it tightly. “If you are in Pemberley, there will I be also.”

He was too moved for speech, so he crushed her to his heart, and she felt the depth of his emotions in the steady pounding at her ear. “Do we have to wait until August to wed?” His body stilled at her words but the hope in his voice was unmistakable, “You are not teasing me, you are willing to marry before you visit Pemberley with your aunt and uncle?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth and unshed tears, “I was mostly teasing about that, Mr Darcy but I was in earnest when I said I will not marry a house! You know I cannot do without you, Fitzwilliam, and although your house, your Darcy legacy and your family may terrify me, I should have made it clear to you, that none of those things can frighten me away from you. Forgive me for allowing any doubt to remain.” Her face was turned toward him, willing him to believe in her, to trust to her steadfast love for him, even though it was newer than his. His lips responded with an eloquence that went beyond mere words.

Sometime later they found Georgie in the music room and directing a footman to invite their other guests to join them there, they took some light refreshments and listened to Georgiana and Elizabeth play and sing, solo and in duet, until it was time to make ready to receive the rest of the family for dinner. Elizabeth was grateful for the relaxed atmosphere of the informal gathering as it gave her time to restore her equanimity and brace for whatever the rest of the evening would hold.

The arrival of Viscount Harley and Lady Isabella as their first guests allowed Elizabeth an opportunity to focus on the one Fitzwilliam she had not yet met. Armed with some salient information on her tastes by Richard, Elizabeth discovered a well-bred and friendly woman, if a little highly-strung which could be easily forgiven under the circumstances, who reminded Elizabeth of her mother, though with some little more wit and sense. She expected her flighty manner and agitation were probably symptoms of her condition and would be tempered if a happy outcome was to be the result. She sympathised, and in her manner of speaking and selection of conversation topics, soothed her as much as she was able. Viscount Harley recommended himself to her in his solicitude for the comfort and well-being of his wife, though she detected an archness in his manner that spoke of a discomfort in his companions. For a Viscount and his father an Earl, to be in polite company with a tradesman, no matter how successful or genteel, did not sit well with him, though he endeavoured to hide it. Elizabeth felt it was not an unforgivable disposition, and as he was valiantly attempting to mask it, would not hold it against him.

All rose at the entrance of Lord and Lady Chilton and with no introductions required, the Earl moved immediately toward Mr Gardiner to greet and inquire after him. He made free to sit beside him and engaged him in conversation. It was apparent that Mr Gardiner’s business acumen had preceded him at the Earl’s discreet investigations, and active as he is in the political sphere, he had discovered a reason to shelve his initial disdain in order to garner an expert opinion on the economic implications of the uprisings in the north. Their conversation proceeded apace and was interrupted only by the dinner bell. The correct order was assumed, and the assembled party sallied forth to dine on a sumptuous four courses at a table generously laden with the best of ingredients supplied directly from the home farm at Pemberley.

There was a formality to the affair at its beginning that made Elizabeth long for the ease and confidence of Longbourn family dinners which were noisy, haphazard events that encompassed all manner of conversation and discourse and were almost always accompanied by laughter and gaiety in every quarter. There was a friendliness to Longbourn events that could not embarrass her, though she knew she would be embarrassed when these two worlds collided, as they must, upon their marriage, indeed, upon their public engagement. Tonight could not be considered the rule, but merely an exquisite exemplar and perhaps the first feint in the battle to establish herself as a suitable Mistress of Pemberley. That all her family were neither this refined nor polished did not need to be elaborated on. The Fitzwilliams could boast of at least one aunt of less than polished temper or intelligent conversation, so the embarrassment needn’t only be on her side. That their aunt was a Lady, while her mother wasn’t even a gentlewoman, was hardly relevant. One gave deliberate offence, the other accidental. Whenever both mouths were opened, their vulgarity was guaranteed.

She had chosen to be seated in the appropriate consequence for one of her station, and not as the betrothed of the master of the house and was therefore seated centrally between Viscount Harley and Colonel Fitzwilliam and across from her sister. She was pleased to see the elder Fitzwilliam begin to relax his demeanour as the conversation between Bingley, Mr Gardiner and Jane demonstrated warmth, intelligence and propriety. The Colonel was enjoying a lively conversation with Georgiana and Mrs Gardiner on the delights of Lambton, while Darcy had engaged the Earl in a political discussion that had flowed from the Earl’s earlier conversation with Mr Gardiner. Elizabeth noted Lady Chilton’s eyes crinkle in resignation as her husband boorishly called down the table to Mr Gardiner whenever a point needed to be confirmed with him. She giggled a little, under her breath, to see the breach in manners displayed by the Earl and began to see that her idiosyncrasies and her impertinent ways could actually be forgiven more easily in the rarefied circles she would inhabit with Mr Darcy, than in her own. She would just be an eccentric wife of One Darcy of Pemberley , rather than an ill-tempered and impoverished hoyden with no dowry, who blew in with muddy hems and soggy stockings and boots. The Countess looked quizzically at her expression and Elizabeth decided to relate her immediate thoughts. Lady Chilton laughed and agreed, “Tis true! Lady Catherine is forgiven much rude and thoughtless behaviour only because people are not offended by her wealth. Being the daughter of an Earl, and the sister of one, affords a certain privilege to behave as one wishes. I know she thinks she is the centre of the universe and has set up Rosings such that if she never left, she could easily believe she was responsible for making the sun rise and set, but she has never had any real power. I mean, look at Fitzwilliam. She has been declaring almost daily since Anne was in swaddling clothes that he was intended for her. It would have been nice if it worked out, they always got on well as children, and it would have tied things up nicely-“

“Oh, Swizz was never going to marry Anne, Aunt Gwendolyn, we all knew that! And as Anne never really wanted to marry at all, she is happy he took so long, or rather is taking so long, to find his bride, because he shielded her from any further pretensions of Lady Catherine to foist her on any other unsuspecting relations,” Georgiana tossed her head toward Harley, “or any more single, eligible men! Anne’s last letter to me suggested she was delighted to be on the shelf at six and twenty and was looking forward to seeing out the rest of her days enjoying her inheritance, beginning with getting the Dower House habitable again!” Georgie finished with a smirk.

Elizabeth laughed, delighted to hear further examples of glorified eccentricity, and instantly diverted by Georgiana’s pet name for her brother. “So, One Darcy also goes by the moniker, Swizz?” she asked in a loud stage whisper across the table at just the moment all other conversations had paused. Georgiana giggled helplessly as Darcy blushed and cleared his throat. “Fitzwilliam is not the easiest name to learn as a child, and she did not like William or Will, or Fitz, unfortunately. Swizz I have been and Swizz I shall remain, to her alone, though I do prefer she avoid using it in company.” He frowned down the table at her, but as she brushed it off by dissolving into girlish giggles, Elizabeth knew she wasn’t in too much trouble. She loved this little glimpse into the siblings’ relationship, which added weight to her hopes of a genial future within this family. The Colonel added, “Indeed, I have been given lashings for even daring to think about calling him Sw-”, he broke off at a dangerous narrowing of Darcy’s eyes and gestured to Elizabeth, continuing in another stage whisper, “that gentleman seriously has no sense of humour!”

The meal continued in a similar vein, relaxing into something more friendly and less formal than it had begun, as the wine flowed freely and conversations swirled about, collecting in private clusters, then billowing out occasionally to encompass the whole table before reverberating back as tangential eddies were taken up and followed amongst the various interlocutors. Elizabeth’s delight in the evening increased as she let down her guard and her table mates each kept her entertained with the political and social machinations associated with the earldom, which lecherous peers to avoid at the Matlock Ball - with far too much detail even for Elizabeth’s tastes, and more importantly, which London society matrons’ talons to be most wary of when traversing the ballroom. She was laughing so hard at the Colonel’s description of the Countess of Abergavenny’s wardrobe mishap while she was parading her debutante daughter before Darcy at the Matlock Ball three years ago, she was unable to speak for a full minute and was almost going to have to excuse herself. “Lady Alice, or Godiva for those in the know, has not made an appearance in London society since then, though she does stay in London for the season as the Earl maintains his seat in the House. I do feel for her, but she would choose the most inappropriate gowns for her, ahem, girth!” The Colonel’s words unintentionally helped to chasten Elizabeth’s mirth, it was a funny story, but for it to keep her away from all society for 3 years was more pitiable than laughable. She hoped if something similar happened to her, she would have the confidence to laugh about it with her friends and detractors, than hide away in shame.

“Oh, that is a pity! I would much prefer to laugh with Lady God- Alice about it than at her, she cannot have lost all her friends in London, surely?” She had directed the question to the Colonel, but it was Lady Gwendolyn who answered Elizabeth.

“The ton is not known for its mercy as an entity, , Miss Elizabeth, but you need not spare much sympathy for Lady Alice. She was ruthless in her pursuit of both Harley and then Fitzwilliam over the last few years, and never forgave Isabella, who won Harley despite the malicious rumours she spread about her that year. She married her daughters off to a couple of French comtes I think, penniless refugees, but titled all the same. She has not been much missed or pitied for all that.”

Elizabeth gave an involuntary shiver at the power the London ton seemed to hold over some people, although it was a toothless tiger in many respects. What power it did have was only given to it by the Caroline Bingleys of society, so desperate to gain or maintain admittance, their very character, the essence of who they were as people was subsumed by it. It was no wonder it produced women who had more colour and interest in their extravagant headdresses than in the heads upon which they were displayed. Or, perhaps worse, it forced them to hide their colour from the world at large. She decided she was going to enjoy the Matlock Ball, purely because the ton would not want her to.

---

CHAPTER 20

Matlock House was one of the larger residences in Berkeley Square and as such was superbly suited to host one of the Season’s most anticipated balls. Arriving late, but not too fashionably late allowed the Bennet Sisters to admire the décor, furnishings and spaces before they were swallowed in the crush of guests in every room. It also ensured there was no grand entrance before a gallery of whispering vixens and viragos. Accompanied by the Gardiners and in the party belonging to the Chilton Fitzwilliams, the sisters could have passed unnoticed but for them both being resplendently dressed and coiffured and on the arms of two eligible gentlemen who made no effort to disguise their admiration.

Darcy had wished to engage Elizabeth for every dance, but she had agreed to the first, the supper and the last set, which was always a waltz, and had insisted that Darcy dance at least 3 other sets with some other ladies, and not just of his own party. She was happily ensconced with Lady Gwendolyn, who had claimed the Bennet sisters for herself and was busy introducing them to her various acquaintances and she shooed him away with Bingley to go and be sociable. He grudgingly agreed and began to look around as he meandered through the public rooms, greeting particular friends and indifferent acquaintances with an ease and affability that surprised everyone. The younger sisters and daughters of notable families whom he had formerly barely looked at, he greeted with sincere smiles, and invariably asked the least forward to reserve an available set for him. Bingley laughed at him as they walked away from a group of women who were staring at him in astonishment, and he began to laugh himself. “I confess it is not as hard as I thought it would be, and I think I have discovered the trick of it.” He bent closer to whisper his secret, “I need to think less, Bingley, and just accept whatever inanity is being spoken of as the only thing before me. And also laugh more, and it seems genuine the more I do it and sometimes it even feels genuine. I am trying not to look at Miss Elizabeth because I do not think I can cope seeing her laugh, smile and dance with other men, and I want her to see me making an effort at being more sociable. I do think it will make these events overall more bearable, eh?” Bingley shrugged his shoulders, unable to fathom the complexities of his deeply private friend, and not wishing to complicate an otherwise enjoyable evening with unnecessary introspection.

Elizabeth had discovered that she was almost equal to the task she set before herself; having been asked and agreed to several dances by some very eligible gentlemen, approved of by Lady Gwen and Mrs Gardiner, had endeavoured to scratch beneath the surface of two beautiful debutantes, the daughters of the Earl of Chatham, who being close in age, elected to come out a little later and a little earlier than was custom, at 19 and 17, so they could enjoy their first season together. Jane and Elizabeth saw a little of themselves in the pair, who clearly drew strength and confidence from each other. As they moved on to greet some other guests, Elizabeth continued to peer about her, searching for something.

“Lizzy, you are quite distracting me! If you insist on following his every movement, why did you insist he leave you here?”

“I’m not looking for him, I’m just looking,” she replied as she spotted him smiling and conversing with an attractive brunette in a magenta gown who was looking up at him with obvious admiration as she daintily played with the pearls at her throat. “He seems to be performing admirably, Jane, I’m sure that is the second young woman he has smiled at and talked to for more than half a minute. He hasn’t looked disdainfully at anyone! He is definitely not stalking up and down glaring at anyone, so that is good, is it not?”

“It is what you asked him to do, is it not?” Jane was not really attending as the Earl had just returned with two gentlemen who had asked for introductions, and she gripped Elizabeth under the arm to draw her closer. Both were sons of notable peers, had heard about the country charms and native beauty of the Bennet sisters and applied for both of their hands for their next open sets. Both were given and the usual small talk engaged in before they also departed in the natural ebb and flow of a large social gathering.

“I believe I shall declare my card full, Jane. I will need one set prior to the supper set to rest my feet and one at least between supper and the last set. Aunt Gardiner, I find I am feeling overheated, would you accompany me to the courtyard? I believe it is quite large enough to get lost in, according to Lady Evelyn.”

“I believe I shall join you too, Lizzy, it has become rather warm in here. Perhaps Uncle Gardiner could fetch us some punch, also?” She smiled prettily at her uncle, who needed not such inducements to agree with alacrity. The three ladies entered a slow-moving procession that eventually disgorged them into a beautifully landscaped walled courtyard, lit with sconces at regular intervals. Elizabeth took a deep breath, tilting her head to the night sky and told herself she was having a magical night. The cool air in her lungs and the quieter surrounds helped to convince her it was so.

When her uncle returned with the punch he was assisted by Darcy and Bingley, carrying the extra cups, and followed by a veritable bevy of beautiful ladies vying for their attention. Introductions were made as the cups were handed over, but Elizabeth paid scant attention as her insides did several somersaults as she witnessed the ease and friendliness exhibited by her formerly taciturn fiancée. In an effort to ignore her rebellious stomach, she drank a little too fast and coughed rather indecorously, which drew solicitous attention from Darcy, and only made her short with him. Her embarrassment was expressed in uncharacteristic disdain for his companions and drew from her aunt an admonishing glance. She took another slower sip, and with a smile as genuine as it was brittle, attempted to catch the tone of the conversation and appear interested in their concerns. She must have managed it as her companions discernibly relaxed, but her thoughts had turned inward seeking a root cause for her disquiet.

When Darcy escorted her into the ballroom for the first dance and they took their places opposite one another midway down the line, she put aside her concerns and gave him a genuine and brilliant smile. His returning grin was incandescent, and he was unable to glance elsewhere for the entire first dance. He finally felt completely at ease and so comfortable in her company that they did not exchange words for many minutes. Their complete focus on each other was as clear a declaration of their understanding as any announcement could be. Darcy began to tease her about needing to have some conversation or perhaps they could recite love poems to one another, given theirs was a fine, stout love? She responded in kind and they laughed and traded sonnets and mildly inappropriate limericks for the rest of the dance. Elizabeth felt she had finally regained her equanimity at the close of the dance, until she was claimed by another gentleman and watched Darcy bow over her hand and turn to claim his next dance partner.

Elizabeth had never experienced such a tumult of sensations with such intensity in her life and she did not know what to do with them. She could scarcely identify each wave of feeling as it crashed over her and left her short-tempered and unable to enjoy any of her dances, least of all her next, the supper dance, with Darcy. She watched him smile, laugh and be smiled at and laughed with by a succession of attractive, wealthy and titled women and noticed that as often as she looked at him, he was not looking at her.

She was a rational creature, and she knew she had asked him to exert himself. She was unable to account for her want of spirits at this her debut into the society he was born to dwell in. She saw nothing of his cold disdain, his hauteur or his contempt for the women who had been stalking him since he came of age almost a decade ago and she could not reconcile this paragon of social virtue with the man she had fallen in love with. They were again enjoying a companionable silence during their dance, by Darcy’s reckoning, but Elizabeth had been stewing over the fact that he had spent dance after dance actually talking with his other partners, and now could not be bothered to speak to her! Her dissatisfaction began to become apparent to Darcy in her hurried releases and her alternately glittering and downcast eyes. She could no longer look at him and by the end of the dance was barely touching him. Rather than endure the second set, he deftly slipped them out of the line and escorted her past the supper tables and out into the courtyard, looking for the most private space propriety could afford them. He led her to a low stone wall surrounding some exotic plant life and in the shadow of two sconces and entreated her to sit beside him. She refused and tried to pull away, shaking her head, breathing heavily and attempting to compose herself. He gripped her hands tighter and drew her to him, forgetting propriety as he looked up into her tense face and kissed her hands, willing her to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I am so angry at you, Fitzwilliam! You have spent the night talking and laughing with everyone else, and we spend 15 minutes together and you can think of nothing to say to me! I thought I was the one worth talking to!” Her eyes were full of unshed tears, and she stepped back as he released her in surprise and some anger himself. “I cannot do this here, I cannot embarrass myself and your family, can you please, please not ask it of me? Not here, not now, I need to get through this night, I need to be seen to behave better, for my own pride, Mr Darcy, please.” The force of her speech brought some regularity to her breathing, allowing her to blink the tears away. She found the strength to look him in the eyes and taking his hands in hers, she pulled him to standing. She had seen the answering flare of anger and confusion and knew this conversation could not be had here. “Please, Mr Darcy, can we continue on as though this has not happened?” She gestured to herself and had unconsciously reverted to the formal address, though they were alone, as she needed some distance from the turbulence in her heart. She heard the hurt in his reply.

“Of course, Miss Elizabeth, I will endeavour to continue as we were before. We will need to speak of this as soon as you are able, I cannot like leaving things as they are for too long. If I have-”
“Please, Fitzwilliam, I do not want the dam to burst. I will ask for an opportunity for a private interview at Gracechurch Street tomorrow. Perhaps a walk in the park?” She had forced a lightness and levity to her tone that she did not feel. “I hope I will have a better sense of the state of my own mind by then.” She let go of his hands to slip her arm beneath his elbow and allowed him to escort her slowly back to join their party at supper.

Schooling both of their features to almost their former serenity, they discovered they were quite equal to the performance and artifice necessary to keep their friends and acquaintances complacent. Jane was perhaps the only one not fooled, but she knew her sister well enough not to ask and after briefly assessing her genuine soundness, focussed all her attention on her delightfully uncomplicated suitor. The rest of the ball was conducted in much the same way as it began, although the consciousness of distance between Elizabeth and Darcy dampened both their enjoyment of the ball and each other. It was heralded a great success by the Fitzwilliam clan, and despite her internal struggles, Elizabeth had apparently charmed Lady Gwen’s friends and made all the right enemies, the names and details of which she would have to apply to Jane for as she could not remember a single one.

The ball was ended on a waltz, which had two very salutary effects. Both Elizabeth and Darcy were nervous entering into the physical intimacy of the dance but discovered that more than 10 minutes locked in each other’s arms and looking only upon each other’s faces was beneficial in reminding them why they were there in the first place. Both of their smiles were heartfelt and genuine by the end of the dance. And by the end of their dance, both Jane and Bingley had discovered that a waltz was the perfect occasion to ask for and be granted a hand in marriage.

---

CHAPTER 21

The news of Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet’s engagement was announced to Lizzy overnight as the precursor to a two-hour long dissection of Elizabeth’s overwrought emotional state. They had left the ball not long after the waltz, grateful they had lasted to the end and were able to finish on relative, if not equal, high points. Jane, truly ecstatic at her straightforward felicity, could not help but laugh at Elizabeth’s irrational reaction to Darcy’s behaviour, admonishing her to show some faith in that gentleman’s steadfast and unwavering love for her and pointing out exactly how well he had obeyed her strictures. As the sun began to pierce the London fog settling over Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth had identified the main source of her discontent. Though she was worried about how to explain herself to him later that day, she could no longer keep her eyes open and quietly joined Jane in slumber. Rising blearily at noon, she left Jane snoring quietly, completed her toilette and joined the children in the nursery for luncheon. Her Aunt had risen earlier to see the children but had returned to bed not long after Lizzy had woken. She had asked for and received permission to receive Darcy later that day, though a walk in the inclement weather was out of the question.

He presented himself at 2pm and was conducted into a lesser used drawing room at the back of the house to find Elizabeth waiting for him alone, reclining on the couch by the window. He looked tired, concerned, and confused, but utterly handsome for all of that. Elizabeth felt a fresh wave of guilt as she rose and watched him enter. He came to sit beside her on the settee and the maid entered to arrange the tea and pour for them both before retiring to a distant table out of earshot, to polish the silverware. Mr Gardiner was definite about propriety, but Lizzy knew Anna to be completely trustworthy and discreet so had no qualms about conducting a private conversation with Darcy in her presence. She put her tea down, turned completely to face him in her favourite defensive position, legs curled up on the squab beneath her skirts, her back against the arm of the couch, chin on her knees. He turned his body to look her squarely in the face, unable to resist glancing down at her stockinged feet peeking out from beneath her loose morning dress, crossing his knee awkwardly towards her. He looked slightly ridiculous, attempting to shift his stiff and tall frame to mirror her position and she suppressed a smile. She would have to teach him to slouch, amongst many other things. She reached for his hands and leaning towards him, tugged his limbs about and rearranged his person until he looked more comfortable and only when he caught her hand up to his and pressed her open palm to his mouth, did she stop to consider how much she affected him merely by her touch.

“Forgive me, Fitzwilliam.”

He continued to kiss her hand and then rested it upon his cheek, entwined with his own as he looked up. “I cannot forgive you for your innocent gestures, Elizabeth, they delight me, and I do not wish you to stop.”

“I am glad for it delights me also, but I meant to apologise for my behaviour last night. I am embarrassed to have to relate the feelings that came over me at the ball, I confess I had no inkling I would react so badly. I am only glad that it was not more obvious to everyone else. I should have hated to embarrass you and your family after all their efforts to ingratiate me into polite society.”

“You expressed anger at me, Elizabeth, can you tell me what I did that offended you?”

“You did everything I asked, and you did it so well and were so charming to everyone in the room that I began to realise how much I wanted my tall, stern and forbidding Master of Pemberley back. The one who would smile just for me, laugh at only my witty rejoinders and devastating repartee, the one who would open up and talk just for me, and not for anyone else. I was jealous of every smile you gave, every laugh I heard and every word you uttered to every other woman in the room, Fitzwilliam. I realised that I had expected you to fail because I was to be the only one for whom you should be winsome, charming and easy with. Well, excluding Georgie. In my jealousy, I began to feel that I was no longer special, that my One Darcy of Pemberley no longer saw me as his One Bennet of Longbourn and my confidence was so shaken that I was filled with a desperate kind of rage. I wanted to scream and have nervous fits and demand you pay attention to me! In short, I became my mother!” At this she buried her head in her knees, still gripping his hands she pulled them to cover her head to fully express her humiliation. She continued, her voice barely audible, “But the rational half of me, (thank the Good Lord for my father) instantly came alive to this unreasonable and completely unexpected sensation and I was at war with myself before I even knew what was going on.”

He kissed her head until she raised it and smiled into her teary eyes. “Is that all? You were jealous of the smiles, dances and conversation I gave to other women on your orders?”

“Yes! I am a ghastly harridan who can no longer be seen in polite society, Mr Darcy! I masked it until the end, but I wanted to do violence to every woman who dared to breathe in your direction. I thought I would find it funny, like I did with Miss Bingley – who we didn’t even see at the Ball - but Fitz, you never once smiled at her. It was obvious you cared nothing for her. And I was so spoiled in Kent, to have you essentially all to myself for those glorious few weeks - being the only woman in your life for that serious part of our courtship, where I began to truly see you for who you are. I don’t want to share you with anyone, and I am genuinely concerned for my state of mind. I don’t think it’s wise. I theoretically want you to be comfortable and easy in the company of other women at events, but I don’t want to feel like clawing out their eyes afterwards! I have to ask, Fitzwilliam, did you enjoy yourself? Did you think of me, while you were away from me? I confess I could not think of anyone else and I have to assume that my practiced good humour carried me through because I cannot recall a single conversation I had last night, with anyone but you. I don’t know if I can spend another night in such mental anguish! Perhaps, once we are wed, it will be better?”

He kissed her head, bowed in defeat once again, and laughed against her hair. “Oh, my dearest Lizzy. It was an effort of will not to look at you every moment, though I could not bear to see you dancing with other men, so I did not look at you at all then. But you were in my thoughts every moment. I will admit that I was happily surprised at my ability to feign amusement and interest, and while it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, I realised that it all came from my complete confidence in you, that as a man who is essentially betrothed, I was untouchable. Although our betrothal is still largely unknown, I felt completely free to be myself, without fear of giving too much consequence. You gave me the freedom to be comfortable amongst virtual strangers, Lizzy! I confess it was the most pleasant time I have ever had at a ball, and it made me happy to think that it might presage future felicity for me, because I knew you would not want to be forever away from society, unlike myself.

Until I perceived your tension, I was delighted to think that I could be giving you pleasure in a way that was not completely unpleasurable for me also. I would do anything to make you happy, and if standing by your side, glowering at everyone else and smiling only for you is what will make you happy, I will revert to my natural state at your command.” She laughed and pushed him backward on the couch, pleased to feel the tension completely leave them both. “Oh, it was very wrong of me to ask you to make such changes, going against your nature in such a public way, and then become furiously and outrageously jealous when you proved how truly amiable you are! Really, Fitzwilliam, you should be more angry with me.”

“Well, I am concerned that your fears about turning into your mother appear to be not as groundless as I would have assumed...” This jibe earned him a cushion to the head, which would have devolved into something even less seemly for the Master of Pemberley, had Anna not chosen that moment to clear her throat noisily, and the two with clasped hands bent on merry mischief-making were recalled to their proper place. Leaning back to regard his fiancée, Darcy was struck anew with how young and free she made him feel. He had not interacted with another person with so little regard for propriety since Georgiana was a girl, and he could feel himself physically relaxing in response, shedding his stiff and unyielding posture in concert with his emotional release. His anticipation for their wedding grew with their every conversation, and knowing she was wishing to marry sooner also, increased it exponentially.

Elizabeth’s loose bun had tumbled down around her face and Darcy itched to run his hands through it as she sat more sedately next to him and rearranged all that was disarranged about her person. She smiled up at him as she leaned back and into his side as they continued to talk, both going over their expectations, renewing their professions and making plans for an earlier wedding. They talked of Jane and Bingley, of their next social engagement, and had just begun discussing when and how to approach her father and mother when Jane entered the drawing room and claimed Darcy’s heartfelt congratulations. Bingley had been invited to join them for a late dinner and was expected soon, while Mr Gardiner had spent a few afternoon hours at his warehouses superintended the arrival of a shipment of fabrics from the orient. It was occasionally taxing to straddle the life of a gentleman and a businessman, but he was willing to do whatever was necessary to forward the prospects of his dearest nieces. The contacts and networks he developed at these events did not hurt his business or political interests either.

The ball was the main topic of conversation when all were gathered, with much canvassed to Elizabeth’s benefit, as her emotional state had rendered her unable to recall much of the conversations or introductions for almost the entirety of the event. Piecing together bits and pieces she was able to satisfy herself that she had not embarrassed the Fitzwilliams or Gardiners and would most likely be able to conduct future conversations with new acquaintances without much difficulty. Many of these new acquaintances would be invited to a small soiree at Chilton House when they returned to town in a few weeks as Lady Gwendolyn was insistent upon announcing their engagement properly. There would be the usual announcement in the Times once Mr Bennet’s permission had been applied for and received, but as the Fitzwilliams were aware that Darcy would wish to disappear with his betrothed once wedded, she insisted their now shortened engagement period would have to be conducted as publicly as possible during the little season. Understanding the value socially for this public recognition in reducing and forestalling any suggestions of impropriety in what would appear to be a speedy engagement and wedding in the eyes of the ton, Darcy and Elizabeth agreed, happy to forego a more private engagement in favour of a completely private honeymoon.

It was during this conversation that the suggestion of a double wedding was raised. Neither sister was willing to forego standing up for one another, and it became apparent that one or the other couple would either have to wait a few months or submit to a reduced honeymoon period in order to accommodate this necessity. Both gentlemen were amenable, and the sisters overjoyed at the thought of sharing the busy and exciting anticipation and preparation period, witnessing one another’s wedding day and sharing an anniversary every year, without either having to feel a longing to expedite their own situation, was an expectation of exquisite felicity that once expressed became a necessity. There was no consideration given to the possibility of jealousy or bitterness at sharing the bride’s limelight for these two self-effacing sisters. The more the subject was canvassed, the more the idea took hold and became a thing of absolute necessity, going so far as to consider making a joint announcement in the Times and applying to the Fitzwilliams to announce the engagements of both sisters at their soiree.

Plans were made to return to Hertfordshire at the end of the week, which would give Elizabeth and Jane three mornings to make the social calls with Lady Gwen that the Countess deemed absolutely necessary and effect the Bennet Sisters early introduction to society before their engagements were announced. Elizabeth was amazed at the almost military precision and strategy that came into force and was grateful to have the Earl and Countess working for them in this process and not against them.

© Janine van der Kooy

CHAPTER 22

Jane and Elizabeth did not need to look at one another to know the tumult of feelings bubbling inside each of them as they sat in the Darcy carriage, that was even now winding its way north through Hertfordshire. It had been a teary farewell with the Gardiners, even though they would be returning very soon, as both girls realised how quickly their lives were changing. Their family knew they would be returning, but no details were given as to how and with whom, as neither daughter felt their mother was capable of restraining her imagination, or her tongue, if any advance notice of their happy news were to reach them. Mr Bennet had been forewarned by a long letter from his favourite daughter, though as she had not expected or received a reply, she could only hope it had been read by him, and not distributed widely.

Elizabeth would have preferred to have given him the news in person, but she poured her heart out on the page, leaving him in no doubt of the material change in her affections and feelings, peppered with amusing anecdotes about her interactions with Lady Catherine and Mr Collins, descriptions of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam family, her confidence in her future felicity therein, and a most particular and exacting description of the library at Darcy House, making sure to note several times that it is a tenth of the size of the library at Pemberley. She was in no doubt about the way to her father’s heart, and she was determined to have her Darcy of Pemberley well received by the one person whose opinion really mattered to her, if she could arrange it so.

Their arrival at Longbourn surprised and delighted only Mr and Mrs Hill. Mrs Bennet and her daughters were calling at their Aunt Philips after shopping in Meryton and Mr Bennet was in his library, enjoying the peace and quiet and had insisted on not being disturbed by anyone, for any reason. This being the case, the gentlemen elected to eschew the niceties of continuing to Netherfield and changing out of their perfectly acceptable travelling clothes from the short journey and opted to take refreshments at Longbourn with their beloved fiancées, in the hopes that private interviews would be granted by the Master of the house. Both women were past or nearing their majority, so permission was not critical, but neither wished to marry without their Father’s blessing.

Their entrance was quiet and without fanfare and suited both daughters of the house. Once their intendeds were settled in the family parlour, hastily tidied of the accoutrements of a house full of ladies that were liberally distributed over every surface, and delivered of tea and biscuits, the eldest Miss Bennets sought out their reclusive father. The door to the library was unlocked and as they knew he would not respond to a knock, they entered unannounced.

“I thought I told you I was not to be disturbed by any- Lizzy! Jane!” Thomas Bennet started in surprise but rose automatically to greet his long absent daughters with a welcoming smile and affectionate kisses. He gestured for them to join him on the couch. “Lizzy, you gave me no word in your long and quixotic missive that you would be returning from London today. I must say I heartily enjoyed your tale, but I assume you must have had no amusements at all to craft such a splendid tale of romance with Mr Darcy, of all people, as the hero?”

Elizabeth stared in open-mouthed astonishment as her Father laughed and began describing his favourite parts of her story. He broke off when he saw her face, blushing furiously and frowning in confusion. “Are you wondering how I have seen through your suspiciously detailed and well-crafted tale?” Elizabeth was still unable to find any words. “Your mother has been keeping up with the London gossip and we are well aware that a Mr Darcy has been seen very often in the company of a mysterious woman, who has attended the theatre with him, and was even present at the Matlock Ball where she was invited as the particular guest of Lord and Lady Chilton, his Aunt and Uncle? Your mother even left me the paper the other day… here it is – the mysterious Miss B was seen dangling on the arm of Mr Darcy, recipient of his rare smiles and conversation at the Theatre Royal for King Richard II…”. Thomas Bennet’s voice trailed off as he looked up at his daughter, still blushing but now able to speak.

“Papa. I am the mysterious Miss B! My “story” was suspiciously detailed and well-crafted because I wanted to relate the process of how my feelings became completely reversed. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley accompanied us for our journey home today. They are waiting in the parlour and hope to speak to you today. I have come to an understanding with Mr Darcy, Father. I was completely wrong about him in so many ways. I truly believe he is the best man I have ever known, Papa. He loves me, and we are engaged. Please disregard my former dislike, I am ashamed of the wounded vanity which caused me to malign and abuse the good name and reputation of an entirely honourable gentleman.”

Thomas Bennet was incensed. “Elizabeth, he called you barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him! In a public place, where it was overheard-“

“By me, Papa! And I was the one to spread the tale abroad! No one else heard it, and I am responsible for that gentleman’s poor reception in the neighbourhood. He has explained it all to me Papa – and he has apologised most profusely for the slight. I am convinced and have forgiven him all.”

“I suppose his ten thousand a year makes almost anything forgivable!”

“Papa! Do you think it is his wealth and consequence that have convinced me? If I was willing to overlook that, why did I spend months abusing him to all of my family and friends? If I was that type of woman, would I have published his slight of me to everyone I knew? It is his heart, his mind and his character which have won me. If you only knew his generous nature, which he has kept hidden for so long because he had never before found a woman willing to look past his wealth to see the man. Papa, he has been nothing but a proper gentleman towards me, he has nothing but honourable intentions towards me and his supposed faults of temperament and reserve – well, I have come to realise they suit me very well indeed. He is truly amiable, Papa, he makes me laugh, he challenges me to overcome my fears, his well-informed mind sharpens my own and he is everything I could have ever wanted in a young man.”

“And he is also handsome, which a young man ought likewise to be, if he can help it.” Jane offered this sally with an impish smile, hoping to draw the same from Lizzy, as the interview was becoming rather heightened. She was rewarded with a brilliant smile from her sister, although her Father was still grim. Elizabeth rose and knelt before her Father as he reclined back into his wingback chair. Reaching to kiss his hands, she looked up at him imploringly, “Papa, I know you are shocked. I had hoped that my letter would help to ease you into the idea of my engagement, and I am even more grateful that I encouraged Fitz-Mr Darcy- to not ride here directly when we arrived from Kent some weeks ago to ask permission. I feared he may not receive a warm welcome. Do you wish to see them today? They have broken their journey here and would welcome the opportunity to speak to you.”

Mr Bennet returned his daughter’s kisses on top of her bent head. “They? You speak in plurals, Lizzy. What purpose does Mr Bingley have in speaking to me today?” It was now Jane’s turn to blush and stammer her way through an explanation of the renewal of her relationship with Mr Bingley and its rapid progression through to their engagement. “Mr Bingley would be pleased to speak to you today also, Papa. He would have preferred to speak to you first, but Elizabeth insisted she must break the news to you, and I am also glad that you have some advance warning, so you are aware of our hearts also Papa. He was very wrong to have left without taking proper leave of us and is wishing to apologise. Like Lizzy, I have forgiven him completely and have complete faith in the constancy of his affections. I do not feel ill-used, Papa, and his faults lay more in his doubting his own judgment, than in malice or caprice. We are both aware of our tendency to trust to the goodness of all people, regardless of their merit, but we believe that knowing that tendency will help us to manage its worst consequences.”

Jane had joined her sister at their father’s knee and had kissed his hands after speaking. “Oh my darling girls, I have aged 20 years in one day. I confess I am still not ready to let you go, it was only yesterday I was bouncing you both upon my knee. I have hidden away in my library in the vain hope that if I didn’t see it, you would no longer grow any more. I am so proud of you both and could not have parted with you for any men less worthy.” He bent and kissed them both tenderly, blinking away the tears that had started to mist his eyes, and continued to whisper his pride, encouragement and love to his eldest daughters.

Some time later, Elizabeth and Jane returned to the parlour and Mr Bingley was directed to the library. He returned in mere minutes, grinning from ear to ear and nodding his old friend into the library. 30 minutes later, Mr Darcy had not returned, and Elizabeth was no longer sanguine. Just as she was going to get up and check the library, a commotion was heard heralding the return of Mrs Bennet, Mary, Kitty and Lydia. They had noticed the fine carriage, but not recognising the Darcy coat of arms were unaware of the owner.

The shrieks of delight that issued forth from Mrs Bennet were enough to bring Mrs Hill up the stairs to investigate. Jane was surrounded by her three younger sisters with hugs, congratulations and requests for trips to London, balls, gowns, and ribbons indistinguishable amongst the tumult. Satisfied that all was indeed well, she withdrew and sent up Sally to refresh the teapot and bring more biscuits. Congratulations were made again and again to Jane, before Mrs Bennet even noticed the presence of her second daughter. “Lizzy! You are looking remarkably well. I hope you have been properly humbled by seeing the situation you were so ungracious to refuse in Kent and are more willing to receive whatever attentions may come your way if you are able to spend more time in London with your sister during the season! How are the Collinses anyway? I presume they talk of Longbourn endlessly? What of Rosings? Does Lady Catherine keep a fine table, and have 4 attendants plus footmen at every meal? Is the chimney piece worth 800 pounds? Has Charlotte begun increasing? I am certain she will have 12 sons and turn us out as soon as your Father dies!” Elizabeth had attempted to answer all of her mother’s questions with no success given the rapidity of her address. “Is that a new carriage of yours, Mr Bingley? It is very fine-”

“No, Mrs Bennet, it is not Mr Bingley’s carriage, it is mine.” Darcy had appeared at the parlour door and looked every bit as forbidding and arrogant as he used to. Elizabeth alone could see his awkwardness and discomfort at the chaos and the vulgarity displayed by her mother and knew that his intent in responding to her question, had not been to censure her but merely to correct her misapprehension. She also knew that her mother would take it completely the wrong way.

She was not aware however that Mr Darcy had heard much of what Mrs Bennet had said to Elizabeth and was valiantly containing his rage at having the love of his life disparaged, disrespected and undervalued to her face by the woman who should know her best. The words, “have you met your Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”, came floating into his mind, at just the right time and in the dulcet tones of his beloved, so he attempted to regulate his speech and interjected at the opportune moment during Mrs Bennet’s rhetorical monologue of questions. Elizabeth leapt to her feet as the room was silenced by his unfamiliar baritone, pitched at just the right level for exactly the wrong effect. “Forgive me, Mrs Bennet, for interjecting,” he continued in a softened tone, with a smile that drew a gasp from several of the young ladies present, “I have just returned from Mr-“

“To take Mr Bingley back to Netherfield, thank you, sir!” Elizabeth widened her eyes and barely shook her head at him, hoping he would understand not to mention their news. “We are so grateful we were able to join you as you returned to Netherfield with Mr Bingley and hope you will join him tomorrow for supper at Longbourn? Let me walk you out with Jane and Mr Bingley so you can get settled at Netherfield.” She had taken a leaf out of her mother’s book and spoke without drawing breath while gesturing to Jane and Bingley to follow her out the door and down the stairs.

Mr Darcy nodded “Good afternoon” to the room at large and followed Elizabeth down the stairs. She pulled him into a little used vestibule in front of the servant’s entrance to the main hall and buried her face in his chest. He looked around swiftly before gathering her to him and whispering, “all is well, my darling Lillybeth, your father has given his permission. I wanted to take the opportunity to discuss George Wickham with him and it was a good thing too. He had noted that Lydia has been speaking of him with more frequency than any of the other officers, so he has been forewarned. He has gone out directly to speak to Sir William and to instruct his brother Philips to discreetly investigate if any debts are owing to any militiamen amongst the shopkeepers and tradesman in Meryton.” Elizabeth sighed with relief and drew him down to kiss his cheek. Upon hearing Bingley’s heavy tread and hearty goodbyes on the staircase above, Elizabeth drew a disappointed Darcy out into the hall. “Why did you not wish to announce our engagement upstairs?”

“Oh Fitz, I love you too well to subject you to my mother’s hysterical effusions of joy, or her invective. I cannot predict how she will respond, but she only has to open her mouth and it will be vulgar and inappropriate. I will tell her this evening, in the privacy of her rooms, where I can ensure the worst excesses of her response will be limited to an audience of one.”

“You are not in any fear that I hold you responsible for what your mother says or does, I hope?” He kissed her hands, fervently wishing he could express his constancy another way. “Of course not, my dear. Fear not, but your constancy will be challenged on every day following my announcement, for regardless of how well she takes it initially, she will spend the entirety of our engagement embarrassing us both with her obsession with your wealth and making use of your consequence to throw the girls in the path of -”

“Other rich men!” They both laughed as Jane and Bingley had just joined them in finishing Mrs Bennet’s dearest wishes for her daughters.

---

CHAPTER 23

After seeing out their gentleman, Jane and Lizzy returned upstairs and took the opportunity to refresh themselves from travelling before joining their mother and sisters in the parlour. Mary had taken herself to the music room and could be heard learning a new sonata. Kitty and Lydia were bickering at the worktable over the remains of a bonnet and Mrs Bennet was alternately working on repairing a torn shirtsleeve of her husband and gazing dreamily out of the window planning her daughter’s wedding.

“There you are Jane! Have you planned a date? I was thinking next Spring would be the earliest we could plan for, there is so much to be done, your trousseau to order and have made in town, we must consult my sister Gardiner for the best fabrics for your wedding clothes and we will need to have new gowns for all your sisters too!”

“Mama, we will not be waiting until next Spring to be wed. I think we are looking at August at the latest. It will depend on a number of things, but there is ample time to order the few clothes we need, and Aunt Gardiner has already gifted both Lizzy and myself with a number of gowns this season which will be perfect for our wedding. In fact, we designed two of them with the wedding in mind. We have already made plans to return to town to complete our, I mean, my trousseau and to make any other necessary purchases and Aunt Gardiner is more than happy to chaperone us to the best warehouses, though I think Uncle Gardiner’s will be the only one we need to visit if his shipment arrives from the East Indies as expected next week, and we have already visited the modiste for fittings so anything else can be made in good time.”

Mrs Bennet had paid little attention to Jane’s soft voice and had already dismissed the notion of an August wedding date as impossible. “Of course, of course, you will shop in London for your wedding clothes, and you must have new gowns made Jane, befitting your station as the Mistress of Netherfield. I will accompany you of course, your Aunt Gardiner allows you to dress far too simply, there is no adornment, no refinements in the dresses she makes for you!”

“Mama, Jane and I both favour simple, unadorned styles, Aunt Gardiner allows us the freedom to choose and directs us to select the styles that will most suit us, as opposed to the latest fashions. We do not intend to follow Caroline Bingley’s example! What good has it done her to have the latest styles and a hundred peacock feathers in her turban? She is still single, Jane is the one engaged to be married, and she achieved all that with nary a feather or a lace ruffle upon her person!”

“How can you say that Lizzy! I am sure the papers have reported that she is almost engaged to Mr Darcy!”

“Mama, the papers have said no such thing.”

“There was a mysterious Miss B. reported to be in his company very often over the last few weeks, Lizzy! I had assumed she was much in company with them as before. Has she returned to Netherfield with her brother to act as hostess for him until you are wed?”

“No, Mama. Caroline does not approve of Mr Bingley’s choice of bride and as such has made herself scarce. She resides permanently with her sister, Mrs Hurst. Mr Bingley moved temporarily into Darcy House as a guest as he no longer felt comfortable in their home. Mrs Hurst also does not approve of me.”

Mrs Bennet’s lips thinned at the slight, but otherwise dismissed Mr Bingley’s family troubles from her mind. “So, I presume Mr Darcy is here to stand up with him?” Jane looked to Elizabeth, who replied, “Yes, Mama, he came to support his friend. He fully approves of his choice.”

“Well, I suppose that is all to the good, else I hate the sight of him! But he is here to support his friend, despite his superior airs and graces so I shall give him that. He will not stay at Netherfield after your wedding, will he? You shall have to walk out with him often Elizabeth, to give Jane and Bingley time together, before and after the wedding if so! I’m sure you will be able to find ways to amuse yourself with that odious man, for your sister’s sake.”

Jane’s eyes were filled with mirth as Elizabeth struggled to control her laughter. Mrs Bennet took it for distress and added, “Lizzy, if you had done your duty and married Mr Collins, you would not now be faced with the repulsive Mr Darcy and his arrogant contempt. I’m sure he will not come with Bingley every day, will he Jane? There, there, you will find a way to put him in his place, Lizzy, you have always been quite clever at that. And you can ask your Father if he might invite him to join him in his study when you are sick of him. I’m sure he would not be a bother as they would barely speak two sentences to each other.” Elizabeth began coughing incessantly and had to leave the room.

Elizabeth would have enjoyed the relaxed and noisy family supper more if she had not set herself the task of apprising her mother of her engagement to One Repulsive Darcy of Pemberley. She only had herself to blame, but this did not make it any easier to realise that she would be responsible for undoing all the damage her vanity had wrought after the Meryton Assembly, not just with her mother, but with the other families in the neighbourhood. She planted the seed, which was then heavily fertilised by Wickham and the resultant stench was going to be difficult to displace. Her Darcy was still reserved and uncomfortable in unknown company, and he would have made a poor impression at the best of times with his background and experience in the ton creating a standard of behaviour few could rise to. Even if he was warmth and affability personified, such exacting standards would set him apart, guaranteeing an impression of cold aloofness in both men and women. She gritted her teeth, smiled at her family and counted the minutes and hours until she could meet with her mother in her bedchamber.

The conversation never strayed far from the superficial and at every mention of Lt Wickham, both Elizabeth and her father hastened to quell the discussion and went so far as to warn all the ladies present of the less than gentlemanly reputation that had followed that young man from Derbyshire and slowly introduced the idea that perhaps not every word that dripped from his honeyed lips was entirely trustworthy. Mr Bennet was able to report that he had racked up over 20 guineas in various debts with the tradesmen and innkeepers in Meryton and advised that no militiaman would be extended credit any more until his and all their other debts were paid. As they were due to leave for Brighton at the end of the month, it was propitious timing. Mr Bennet enjoined the girls to avoid any situations that would leave them alone with any officer, but particularly Lt Wickham, as he had heard many things which suggested the man was not to be trusted, especially around young women. Lydia vociferously defended the man and would hear no bad word against him, but Kitty and Mary were very affected by the stories of ruined girls in Derbyshire who had been left with child, one of whom died, all of whom naming Lt Wickham as their seducer. Kitty’s spirits did not recover, and she kept glancing at Lydia fearfully when she thought no one was looking. Elizabeth resolved to question her closely the next morning if she could not speak to her privately after supper.

After the excitement of the day, the Bennet family all retired earlier than usual, and Elizabeth had not had to wait overlong for the moment to face her mother. She followed her up to her chambers after waiting an appropriate time for her to conduct her toilette. After being invited to sit next to her mother’s bed, Elizabeth blew out a shaky breath and looked at Maria Lucas’ sketch book gripped in her lap.

“Mama, I wanted to share some news with you about my time away in Kent and London. I am aware that you were deeply offended by Mr Darcy’s slight of me and have found his manners and temperament reprehensible since then. While I was formerly mostly in agreement with your assessment, I discovered a different side to Mr Darcy as I was able to spend some time with him in Kent. He happened to be visiting his Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, while I was staying with the Collinses and you may have heard how his patroness condescended to invite us to dine and to sup with them on occasion, so we were able to renew our acquaintance.”

Elizabeth looked up to see her Mother watching her curiously. “He, Mr Darcy, is not the arrogant, disdainful monster I thought he was, Mama. He is truly amiable. He asked for, and was given, my forgiveness for his slight at the assembly. He was not speaking of me, he had barely looked at me, he had just wanted his friend to leave him in peace and should have never come out, but that is neither here nor there. He is shy, Mama, uncomfortable with strangers and all he heard all evening were whispers about his wealth and his status and he has been all alone for so many years, simply protecting himself and his sister from fortune hunters…”

“Lizzy, do you love Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth started in surprise at her Mother’s insight. She had given herself as neutral a voice as possible, intending to give her Mother a simple recitation, unadorned by her emotion, but she had been unable to keep the warmth of her love for Darcy out of her voice. Her posture and her mien all betrayed the depths of her heart.

“Yes, Mama, I love him so very dearly and-“

“Oh child, he will never offer for you! You are not beautiful enough or rich enough for a man like Mr Darcy. Did he compromise you?! You have not given him any favours, have you?! Men like him may make promises of all kinds, but he will never marry you, Lizzy.”

“Mama! Mr Darcy is an honourable gentleman and would never make use of a woman like that! I am horrified that you would think that I would stoop to such deceits or seductive arts in order to-“

“Elizabeth, for all his arrogance, Mr Darcy is a handsome man, I suspect there are many who would give him favours without even needing a promise!”

“Mama! I beg you would cease this argument and let me continue to relate what I have to relate before we are both embarrassed!” Elizabeth was trembling at her own mother’s opinion of her and her immediate assumption that Mr Darcy would have used her for favours and cast her aside.

“Very well, Elizabeth, you love Mr Darcy. I suppose next you will tell me that he loves you too and has asked you to be his wife.”

Elizabeth was momentarily speechless. “He has, Mama. He proposed in Kent, we argued, but he listened to my accusations against him, both founded and unfounded, and we came to an understanding just before we returned to London. Mama, I have met his family, his sister Georgiana is delightful, though shy, and his Uncle, the Earl and his wife Lady Gwendolyn have undertaken to sponsor my introduction to society, she has already included us in an invitation to the Matlock Ball, and she is to give a private ball for us in London to celebrate our engagement. And by us, I mean Jane also! We are intending to marry together, a joint wedding in August, and then we will take our wedding tour before Mr Darcy and I spend our first winter and Christmas together at
Pemberley.” Elizabeth had been leafing through Maria’s sketchbook as she spoke, but she looked at her Mother before adding, “Mama, I am the mysterious Miss B.”

Mrs Bennet was rendered absolutely speechless, at first with disbelief, and then with an astonishment bordering on bewilderment and stupefaction. She stared at Elizabeth for a full 2 minutes before she blinked and stared again. Elizabeth rose to join her mother on the bed. “Mama, somehow it helped Jane and Aunt Gardiner to understand my change of heart when they looked at Maria’s sketches taken at various times at Rosings. Would you like to look through them with me?” Mrs Bennet could only nod and looked where Elizabeth directed her as she turned the pages. She stopped Lizzy at her favourite sketch, depicting Mr Darcy’s intent gaze upon her as she was recounting the adventure with Maria, and she watched as her mother tentatively brushed the image of his face with her thumb. The gesture was one Lizzy herself had repeated every time she had looked at the sketch and it brought a tear to her eyes as she finally saw a part of herself reflected in her mother, a woman whom she had been at odds with her whole life.

“Oh, Lizzy, is it true? He loves you? How will it be! And you will marry! A house in town and Pemberley! Mistress of Pemberley! Mrs Darcy – how well that sounds!” She got out of bed and began pacing about her chamber. “Oh, my Lizzy, my sweetest Lizzy! I never would have imagined, my unmanageable child, incapable of flirting or recommending herself to any gentleman, has somehow managed to turn the head of the richest, most handsome man in England! What jewels, what carriages! What pin money! Jane’s husband will be nothing to yours! Oh, Lizzy, you must apologise to Mr Darcy for my disliking him so much. I hope he will overlook it. And his Uncle, the Earl will sponsor your entry into London society! All the girls must join you, we can get rich husbands for them all!”

Elizabeth allowed her mother the joy of her effusions for many minutes more, grateful to have been able to contain them, such as they were, but at length, she was able to convince her mother that her engagement and wedding would be conducted in exactly the manner that Mr Darcy and herself desired, a special licence had already been arranged for both themselves and Jane, there would be no other Bennet sisters in town for their engagement celebration but there would be plenty of time for Mr Darcy and herself to make calls upon all the families in Meryton, with Mrs Bennet, to receive their congratulations in person. Despite her mother’s vehement dislike of the gentleman, she was in reality, somewhat in awe of him and Elizabeth hoped this would curb the worst excesses of her effusions while in company with him. All else she trusted to the constancy of his affections for her and at the worst moments, she knew she could always whisper, “Lady Catherine” in his ear to bolster his forbearance.

---

CHAPTER 24

Elizabeth rose early as was her custom and dressed for a walk to her favourite vista in Hertfordshire. Watching the sun rise from Oakham Mount was one of the joys she would miss when she removed to Pemberley, and she hoped her fiancé would remember and answer her unspoken wish to meet her there this morning. She was embarrassed at how much she physically ached for his presence, despite having seen him only the day before and knowing she would see him again this evening. It embarrassed and still terrified her, how quickly she had moved from active dislike to the deepest possible love she could feel. Until the next day dawned, and she discovered it had somehow grown impossibly deeper.

She moved down through the house in near darkness and silence, making her way to its burning heart. Mrs Hill was expecting her and had some fresh rolls baked early and wrapped in a clean cloth. She gave her a quick peck on the cheek, full of filial affection for the woman who had comforted her after many falls, many arguments with her mother, and who, more than any other at Longbourn was responsible for bringing her back from the brink of darkness after the death of John Lucas. Mrs Hill’s joy at hearing the news of Elizabeth’s engagement yesterday was everything that was pure and sweet, unalloyed by any counterfeit emotions or expectations other than the future felicity of her favourite Bennet daughter. Mrs Hill had raised three girls and seen them well established in good positions, two of whom had also married well and were soon to be in the family way, but she had a soft spot for the little girl who everyone had hoped would be a boy, and who had spent her childhood trying to best them all. She knew Miss Elizabeth was marrying very well, but she was most gratified to know that above all, Mr Darcy was a most proper gentleman, unfailingly polite to all the maids, footmen and servants at Netherfield and having conversed once or twice with his valet, she knew she had judged him rightly.

“Mrs Hill, I will never be able to eat all these rolls!” Mrs Hill winked, and said, “Never mind, Miss, if there’s any left over when you return, I’m sure the stable boys will be glad of a treat.” Elizabeth looked at her quizzically but took the cloth wrapped rolls with her as she walked out the kitchen door into the washing yard. She moved quickly, beating a well-worn path through the back garden towards her destination, munching on a warm roll and not paying attention to the familiar surrounds, when she heard a crunch of gravel and a low whinny to her right.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet.” The low voice which accompanied the sounds gave her a frisson of delight from head to toe and she suddenly understood why some girls had to squeal. Her entire body was making that sound within her and so she was somewhat breathless as she replied, “Good morning, Mr Darcy.” He reached for her hand to pull her into an embrace, and she giggled as the roll she had been eating was left crushed in his grip. “I see Mrs Hill was right in giving me some spare rolls. Have you come to rob me of my breakfast, sir?” His response cleared her mind momentarily of all thought.

“I missed you, Lillybeth.” He rested his head against hers and breathed deeply.

“I missed you too, Swizz. And you also, Pegs.” The horse had wandered closer to the couple and was nudging her hand which held the crushed roll. “I am not entirely sure this is appropriate food for a thoroughbred like yourself.”

“I am sure I will be able to manage with your country cuisine, Miss Bennet, but thank you for the compliment.” Darcy continued nuzzling her ear, while Pegasus retrieved what was left of the roll from her now open palm. She leaned into her fiancé’s arms, giving herself up to the simple joy and delight in being loved, her heart bursting and surprising her yet again with the new depths it had created to contain her overflowing cup.

Not wishing to miss the sunrise fast approaching, Elizabeth insisted they begin walking, when Darcy picked her up and deposited her on Pegasus. As he swung himself up into the saddle behind her, she finally squealed, partly in fright, partly in delight and then slid her arms around his waist beneath his great coat to secure herself as he took the reins and nudged Pegasus into a walk.

“Can we go faster?”

She was small enough to almost fit side saddle in front of him, but she wriggled herself around to fit her back into his chest and somehow managed to get her legs positioned astride. Her boots were exposed but she wanted Pegasus to run, and this felt like the safest position to do it. Darcy exulted in the feel of her, and in the trust she had placed in him, and he pressed his arm against her to secure her to himself before he urged Pegasus to a loping canter that built to a gallop. They moved as one with the horse and Elizabeth felt no fear, secure in the arms of her beloved and trusting to the safety of the pre-dawn half-light. The ride was over in minutes, and they were dismounting at the base of Oakham Mount, breathing heavily with the exhilaration and excitement of a newfound shared intimacy, and heady with the promise of a life together discovering and enjoying many more such moments. Few words were spoken as they saw daybreak seated together on a fallen log enjoying some slightly squashed but otherwise delicious fresh rolls.

“I used to think I could see the whole world from here.”

“For a time, it was your whole world. For many, it is all the world they will ever know. I am grateful for the privileges my wealth has granted me. To be educated, to travel, to be protected from so many of life’s privations and suffering. And yet, my life feels so much richer for having you in it. My little country Miss B, who took the measure of my soul, found it wanting, and made me anew.” He paused to give her an affectionate peck on the cheek, then took in the view. “Pemberley is not so different to Longbourn. There is a rocky outcrop a short ride away from the house that offers a similar view of the land surrounding my estate. The work is the same, the needs are the same, there are all the same kinds of people. I hope you will come to love it as you love Longbourn, but if you do not, I can purchase an estate in Hertfordshire, even Netherfield if Bingley does not want it, and we can divide our time between both. I confess, I would prefer it here, than in London.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, every time I think you could not possibly be more generous, you surprise me again!” Elizabeth brushed the breadcrumbs from her dress as she stood and turned towards him. Climbing behind the log she leaned into his back and drew her arms around his shoulders. Resting her chin upon his head, she spoke softly. “This is all the world I need, Fitzwilliam. I love my family and I love my home and it will always be a part of who I am. But from wherever I am standing, if I can see you, if I can hold you, I will be home.” She stepped back to take in the view with him in it. “You are really quite handsome from any angle, One Darcy of Pemberley.” He turned and affected a haughty glance behind him, before reaching back for her, disliking the distance between them while there were no proprieties to be maintained. She returned to her position leaning against his long back. “And anyway, it is entirely possible for a woman to be settled too near her family, remember? I do not think one word of reproach will ever pass my lips at the distance between Pemberley and Hertfordshire. We will have to convince Jane and Bingley to move north soon, though.”

Darcy drew her down to kiss her cheek, revelling in the freedom she allowed him and in her spontaneous affectionate gestures. He was careful not to abuse her trust and she allowed herself to be guided by him when her innocent actions threatened to break his self-control. In truth, her expressions of love and trust were exactly what he needed to melt his reserve and his anticipation for their wedding increased, not just for the privileges of the marriage bed, but for the comfort and delight of her everyday affections, to have his arm squeezed as she told a story, his cheek caressed as she teased him or as now, to feel his entire person enveloped and cradled by her. Small though she was, her physical presence was all around him and he gloried in her uninhibited way with him. She made him feel like he was a part of her, and it made their time apart a special kind of torture.

“So, I told Mama our news. She was surprisingly speechless for quite some minutes! Though she was just saving up the most embarrassing effusions to shower forth for the next 30. I have always known she was incapable of understanding me, and while her thoughtlessly cruel words do hurt me, I understand that she has always wanted the best for her daughters. It is immaterial that Mr Collins was the best she thought I could ever achieve. I never wanted to be beloved of her like Jane and Lydia are. There is pleasure in being able to give her such joy, but to be regarded well by her is almost as painful as being regarded poorly. Though both are probably decidedly better than being overlooked, as Mary frequently is.”

Darcy did not know how to respond to her wistful monologue, not being sure if she needed comfort or reassurance and not knowing how to give either, he opted for silent caresses. Fortuitously, this was exactly what Elizabeth needed. Her mother was not a problem to solve, and her relationship with all her family was a tangle of love, hate, joy, tears, disappointments and triumphs that in the end wove her into being. She could neither live without them, or live with them, and as fate would have it, marrying into the Darcys of Pemberley would give her the best of both. “I love you, Fitzwilliam.” Having been debating with himself what he should say, he was surprised into asking, “What for?” She could not help laughing and shaking his shoulders before she kissed the top of his head like he was one of her nephews. Bewildered, but unwilling to miss the opportunity for another kiss he lifted his chin to present his lips to hers instead.

They began their walk back to Longbourn, taking much longer for the return journey and Elizabeth related the family discussion about Wickham. Her fears for Lydia’s immovable regard for the reprobate spilled out and she hoped that news of their engagement might offer an added benefit in keeping Wickham away from her family. Darcy feared Wickham’s hatred for him might be an inducement for more clandestine involvement, with a view to besmirching the Bennet name as well as his own. Especially if it became known who had informed the innkeepers and tradesmen of Meryton against him. “Do you think him so corrupted as to purposely ruin my sister when there would be no financial benefit to himself?” She had the measure of him in some ways, but Darcy knew his jealousy and bitterness had caused him to take or ruin many things that Darcy desired as a boy, including women he knew or thought Darcy favoured, so he wasn’t convinced that the lack of a pecuniary reward would overcome his need for revenge and destruction. He had hoped it would not come to this, but it may be time to call in George Wickham’s debts. He would write to his steward, as well as to Richard, this morning.

© Janine van der Kooy 2022