Posted on: 2008-12-02

Chapter Eight

Beyond the muttered greeting, Mr. Darcy said very little to her at all through the first part of the dance. As she was somewhat mortified by the stares and whispers that surrounded their partnering, and made somewhat uncomfortable by their implications, she finally at last sought to speak to him.

“I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “A very little will suffice.”

He gave her a faint smile. “A very little perhaps, but I am afraid I must speak to you Miss Smith.”

She blushed. “Must speak to one’s dance partner? I am sorry to be such a bother.”

“It is not the company but the subject that I object to,” he said, enigmatically. There was a long pause. Finally, as if reassuring her, he pressed his hand against her glove, far firmer than he needed to for the sake of the dance. “It is about your new acquaintance.”

“Mr. Wickham?” she asked, with some hesitation. “He has said much about you.”

He glowered. “Mr. Wickham has a habit of inventing stories for his own purposes. Whatever he might have said, I would not believe.” Lizzy barely caught the concerned look on his face before she had to walk down the line.

“Why exactly do you care what I believe, Mr. Darcy?” she ventured, when they had reunited again.

He ignored her question. “Some men are easily tempted by a fortune such as yours. I would not allow him to be.”

“Is he such a man?” asked Lizzy, in quite a bit of shock, though a part of her rejoiced at such a protective sentiment from the tall man across from her. “I am all astonishment!” In moment, she smiled, and noting the interest of the next couple, said lightly, “I have never had such a thing happen to me in my life.”

“What do you mean?”

She glanced down the line. “Two young men have warned me off the other within a matter of days,” she said in a softer voice, feigning frivolity. “And yet, I cannot imagine why. I must ascribe these warnings to some great enmity between the two men in question, rather than to myself. What is the source of your distrust of Mr. Wickham?”

Darcy frowned. “Miss Smith, you can depend on it, that disguise of any sort is my abhorrence. I do not wish to discuss personal business in public, but please, I ask you. Do not trust everything that man says. He is excellent at making friends. He may not be so good at keeping them.”

Lizzy said nothing as they went around the dance again. She hardly knew what to think. He did not offer her specifics, as Wickham had. But there was no reason to believe one over the other. Wickham seemed kind, Darcy rather changeable in his attentions. Yet Darcy did have a reputation to maintain. Wickham seemed to have no such scruples, but why should he? There was nothing for him to lose. She would not judge either of them for now, but bide her time, she decided.

“You are awfully silent, Miss Smith. I hope I have not upset you more than I must,” said Darcy, in a kinder tone of voice, after some time had passed.

“You do not know me well, Mr. Darcy. Silence may be my natural condition.”

“I do not think that,” he smiled. “I believe you have a natural inclination towards mirth, one that you repress for the sake of propriety.”

That he should notice such a trait pleased her. “You know me well,” she laughed. “But I cannot make you out at all.”

“You must not stop there,” he replied. “What can be so enigmatic about myself?”

Lizzy chose her words carefully. “Do you really wish to know? This is not the first time you have asked me to be such a critic.”

“I do.” Lizzy blushed and turned away from his gaze. Once again, he had gripped her hand unnecessarily hard.

“You are not particularly affable in company. But among your own group, you show yourself differently. At Netherfield, we have had some conversation that I would classify as pleasant. And our dancing has been pleasurable, I hope. What day of the week is it, again?”

He smiled wanly, impressed by her memory of their earlier conversation. “I do not have an ability that some possess to recommend myself among strangers.”

“Based on our own first meeting, I have no doubt of that! Such a trait is a failing indeed. You must learn to practice, as I have done with my pianoforte. And hopefully you will learn to hide such shyness better than I hide my affinity for making sport of my neighbor.”

Darcy colored as she spoke but did not look displeased. “I would no means suspend any pleasure of yours, Miss Smith. How should I begin my practice?”

“Well, sir. If I am the only girl you dance with, it says very little about the performance of either of us. You might ask Miss Bennet to dance. You have met her many times, and she will do you credit. Or perhaps my friend, Miss Lucas, who will have some need of a respite when she is finished with Mr. Collins. Or, over there, Miss Long stands alone. She is a sweet, quiet little thing, and will not insist on speaking through a dance.”

He laughed. “You wish me to dance with other young ladies? That is singular.”

“I wish you to dance at a ball. We may stand around discussing books instead—it would be a sensible occupation, but it would be most unlike a ball.” Seeing his newly inscrutable expression, Lizzy smiled her widest. “Dear me, have I overstepped my bounds? You must tell me Mr. Darcy, if my teasing becomes impolite.”

“Not at all, Miss Smith, I thank you for the dance. It was most enlightening. But please, I beg of you, be cautious around the likes of Mr. Wickham.”

As he led her to the side of the room, Lizzy’s thoughts went back to the young officer, about whom she had almost forgotten. She would show caution towards Mr. Wickham of course. She knew better to throw herself at any man, and her fortune meant that she did not need to do so. Wickham, after all, might have some resentment towards Mr. Darcy that was particularly unjust. As for Mr. Darcy, she would have to tread lightly as well. It was hard to read his motivations, but it did seem like he wanted to know her better and to please her. In fact, he was now walking over to ask Miss Long to dance! Such attentions were confusing at best.

“Lizzy, may I speak to you a moment?” asked Miss Gosford, bringing Lizzy out of her reverie.

“Yes of course Miss Gosford,” asked Lizzy, her eyes reluctantly tearing themselves from the tall man across the room.

“Pardon me for being frank, Lizzy, but do not pay a man such as Mr. Darcy so much attention,” whispered Miss Gosford, as they drew into a corner. “He has singled you out several times. People are talking. I am sure that he is an honorable man, but men of his means may…. well all of Hertfordshire seems aware of his singular attentions towards you-- though they are less clear as to his intentions.”

“I do not know what to think of Mr. Darcy,” said Lizzy in reply. “But he did warn me away from Mr. Wickham.”

“And Mr. Wickham has been running around Meryton speaking of Mr. Darcy in such a way! Best not get involved in such disputes, Lizzy. I would be distant towards both men. No matter how tempting their looks and courtesy.”

“The most tempting part of their kindness is their relationship to Derbyshire. But I will do my best Miss Gosford.”

“Oh, I see it now! Not Derbyshire again. Remember Pandora, Lizzy. Some secrets are best left alone.”

“Yes Miss Gosford.”

The rest of the ball passed as a blur to Lizzy, who was lost in her own thoughts.

Chapter Nine

For Miss Smith, the best thing that might be said about the following winter was that it was a very striking shade of grey.

Lizzy and Miss Gosford had returned home so late after the Netherfield Ball that even Miss Temple, known for her late night wasting of candles, and Miss Boyle had gone to sleep. The next morning, at least three girls had pounced on her and cried to her to tell them about the ball. But Lizzy could say little. The ball was a blur. Her dance with Darcy was the only vivid moments, and she replayed it over and over again.

Even two months later, she could still feel his hand upon hers and picture the protective look in his eyes when he spoke of Wickham. And the smile when he had practically asked her to tease him. Was it a brotherly look? For a few days it was suggested in Meryton that Mr. Darcy had a certain particular regard for Miss Smith, but she could not see such a thing. His expression was certainly different than the glances the overly friendly officers gave her. Their wished were obvious enough. His were not.

Yet further study was impossible, for she had not seen him again. Without a farewell, he had left Hertfordshire with the rest of the Netherfield Party, leaving behind a heartbroken Jane Bennet, and a confused and disappointed Lizzy Smith.

Yet, though she often wished to wish ill of him, it turned out that Mr. Darcy had been correct. Mr. Wickham had turned his attentions to Miss King, when that girl had inherited a fortune twice the size of her own. She remained pleasant to the Lieutenant-- for he remained all that was handsome and charming-- though she did repeat Darcy’s concerns about Wickham to Miss Gosford, who promised to speak to Miss King’s guardian when such a time presented itself.

Another event was bittersweet. While Lizzy was thrilled that her friend Miss Lucas was to be married, it was no exaggeration that she and the intended husband, Mr. Collins, and Lizzy had never warmed to each other. An invitation had been issued for Lizzy to visit Kent with Sir William and Maria in the spring, but Lizzy had deferred her answer for the sake of marital felicity, knowing that Mr. Collins did not approve of his new wife’s friendship.

The next blow was her own doing. The Gardiners had come to Longbourn, and it was Lizzy that suggested to Mrs. Gardiner that Jane might visit London in the winter.

“But my dear Lizzy, that would leave you rather alone in Hertfordshire, with both your friends gone. Do you not wish to come for a visit as well? The children would love to see you.”

“I would, Mrs. Gardiner. But the whole idea is to put Miss Bennet in the path of Mr. Bingley! His sisters do not approve of me, so my presence would lesson her chances at seeing him again. Besides, it would be hard for me to be so alone, in a school full of young ladies, wouldn’t it?”

“My dearest girl!” was Mrs. Gardiners’ only reply.

It was only within a few days of both her friends’ leaving, Lizzy that felt their absence.

“But you shall have your adventure this summer,” said Miss Gosford, as they drank their tea one dreary morning. The Lakes! I wish I might have such a trip!”

“I know. It was wonderful of them to invite me, along with Miss Catherine, of course. And yet, I cannot help but be melancholy in the meantime.”

“Melancholy, in this great house?” asked Miss Gosford, motioning about the tiny parlor with its frosted windows, the only respite the woman had from her young charges. “But, Lizzy, you have an invitation to visit Mrs. Collins. Your guardian expressed no objection when I wrote Mr. Singer last month. Why do you not look forward to such a visit?”

“I still feel that Mr. Collins does not approve of Charlotte’s invitation,” said Lizzy.

“And yet she continues to ask you to visit. Did it ever occur to you, Lizzy, that your friend might be missing you as much as you miss her? Why else would she be so insistent that you come to Kent?”

“I must confess that I never saw the invitation in that light,” admitted Lizzy.

“No, you did not. Now, go and write your friend. And go to Kent. And then you must forget all about Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy, and whatever else is spinning about in that mind of yours. And by spring, I expect you to be reformed.”

“Yes, Miss Gosford,” said Lizzy. She felt no better, but two trips in four months was a lot for a girl to expect, and she knew to be grateful.

Posted on: 2008-12-12

Chapter Ten

And so spring came slowly. With both Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet gone, Lizzy was much less social than she had been. But as time went by, the prospect of seeing them both again (for she would stay at the Gardiners in London, and see her dear Miss Adams, as well as the niece) cheered her immensely.

The girls saw her out with many tears and much handkerchief waving, for to them, six weeks was a horribly long time.

“And I confess I shall miss you too, Lizzy,” smiled Miss Gosford. “You have been with me such a long time. Longer than most of the girls.”

“What is six weeks to the seven years I have lived here, Miss Gosford?”

“Yes, but you shall leave us again in the summer. And as you will no longer be content with Meryton, I know you shall then seek out a better situation.”

“You know I may do very little without the approval of Singer and Sons, Solicitors,” said Lizzy in her most cynical tone.

“I highly doubt there would be any objection to you going back to the Gardiners, now that you have had a proper young ladies’ education. If you had not made such friends here, I imagine you would have been gone these past two years, at least.”

Lizzy was about to make a flippant comment on their pecuniary relationship but then thought better of it. “Do not underestimate yourself in my affections, Miss Gosford,” she whispered warmly, as she embraced the woman.

With so many of her charges around, Miss Gosford could not remain sentimental, and she quickly drew back and hardened her expression— her frown was a comfortable one, however. So many years dealing with young girls had permanently marked the worn lines onto her face.

Sir William, who had been standing off to one side, smiled affectionately at his long time neighbor as he helped Miss Smith into the carriage.

“Do not worry, Miss Gosford. Maria and I shall take good care of her! So many adventures await these young ladies, forever pleasure bent!”

“Indeed, Sir William. Have a pleasant journey.” And so the carriage door was shut on all three of its occupants, and Miss Gosford looked back at the girls, who were lingering in the doorway, despite the muddy weather.

“Now, now, girls. Back to your lessons at once! Needlework does not wait for such overwrought sentiment. Miss Smith shall return to us soon enough. No doubt, unchanged.”

And so in London they paused, and Lizzy saw Miss Bennet, who was much improved, despite not seeing Mr. Bingley again. However, the younger girl, raised in a school, was much attuned to feminine emotion, and she still thought she detected a bit of regret about her friend. But Miss Bennet would not allow the subject to be spoken of, and instead made all the usual inquiries and then brought up the subject of the trip to the Lakes in the summer.

“It is so wonderful that Kitty may have such an opportunity,” she said smiling. “I know it is Mary’s turn for such pleasure but she did prefer to stay at home, and now Kitty may experience something of the world.”

“Away from Miss Lydia, you mean,” smiled Lizzy.

Miss Bennet looked as if she might agree, but thinking better of it, smiled and changed the subject. “And you shall enjoy it very much too, Lizzy.”

“I am much grateful to Mrs. Gardiner for extending the invitation. She has always been so good to me.”

“You know she has always considered you nothing less than a sister, Lizzy.”

Miss Smith nodded politely, for at that moment, the woman herself returned to the parlor. But Mrs. Gardiner had overheard, and she also smiled.

“Why of course I do Jane. How could I not, when my mama came home with a small baby, placed her in my arms, and said that she was ours now?”

“Very easily, for I am sure I had a frightful colic.” laughed Lizzy

“You were the bright spot of that horrible year my dear Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner matter-of-factly. Your guardian sent us so much more than he might of, for your upkeep. It was that money, Jane, that allowed us to stay in Lambton, after my Father died. ”

Lizzy blushed. The story was an old one, but now she was thinking back to Mr. Darcy’s words about his own father looking out for the Widow Adams. “Yet, none of that was my own doing, Mrs. Gardiner.”

“No, you were too busy with your colic,” laughed Mrs. Gardiner. “Nonetheless, I shall not forget it.”

When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The paling of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Lizzy smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. She wondered what they might be like, and in her own personal quest, hoped she might be able to get a glance at them before her leaving, though she did not expect an invitation into the house itself.

At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge, everything declared they were arriving. Mr. and Mrs. Collins appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate which led by a short gravel walk to the house amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party.

Lizzy’s suspicion that Mr. Collins had not wished her to have an invitation was confirmed by that man’s initial discomfort at her presence. But Mr. Collins, such as he was, could not remain distant for very long, for he was a silly and selfish creature, who wished to be pleasing to others; even as he condescended to her, she had been little enough exposed to him to be able to tolerate him showing off every inch of the parsonage, with much amusement, and only a minor amount of annoyance.

When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. Lizzy understood such a coping technique, for she had seen Charlotte do it enough with her own father, and she understood that the neat and pleasant parlor was Mrs. Collins’ reward for such patience. Eventually they came to the garden, where Mr. Collins could number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which the country or the kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.

From his garden Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows; but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of the white frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of shewing it without her husband's help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which
Lizzy gave her friend all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by Mrs. Collins's evident enjoyment of it, Lizzy supposed he must be often forgotten.

She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining in, observed --

"Yes, Miss Smith, you will have the honor of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, though I imagine you would not expect to be honored with some portion of her notice when service is over. Though my sister Maria may be expected to be invited to Rosings when we are. Lady Catherine’s behavior to my dear Charlotte is charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several."

"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added Mrs. Collins, "and a most attentive neighbor."

"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference. Especially, for those who are so far beneath her," he added, again bobbing his head at his wife’s friend. Lizzy smiled wanly, and turned her attention back toward the meal.

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and telling again what had been already written; and when it closed, Lizzy, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Mrs. Collin's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Rosings—if she were to have any at all. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for the walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door and met Miss Lucas in the landing-place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out --

"Oh, my dear Lizzy! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment."

Lizzy asked questions in vain; Miss Lucas would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder! it was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.

"And is this all?" cried Lizzy. "I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!"

"La! my dear," said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them; the other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!"

"She is abominably rude to keep your sister out of doors in all this wind. Why does she not come in?"

"Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favors when Miss De Bourgh comes in."

"I wonder at her appearance," said Lizzy, struck with other ideas. "She looks sickly and cross. And not a bit like her cousin, Mr. Darcy"

The Collins were both standing at the gate in conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Lizzy's high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that way.

At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw his sister than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which his wife explained by letting them know that the family party was asked to dine at Rosings the next day.

“Which, I am afraid, may not include you Lizzy,” said Mrs. Collins, nervously. “I hope you do not think Her Ladyship very rude.”

Mr. Collins's discomfort, in consequence of this statement, was complete. Only Lizzy’s reassurance that she was not at all offended, that she understood that great lady’s need to be particular, did he allow himself to celebrate his power in being able to display the grandeur of his patroness to his wife’s family, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady Catherine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.

When she had at last seen the party leave for that dinner, it must be confessed that Lizzy was satisfied to draw out a book of poetry and read it in quiet solitude.

Chapter Eleven

Sir William staid only a week at Hunsford; but his visit was long enough to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled, and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbor as were not often met with. While Sir William was with them Mr. Collins devoted his mornings to driving him out in his gig, and shewing him the country; but when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, and Lizzy was thankful to find that they did not see more of the clergyman by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden, or in reading and writing, and looking out of window in his own book-room, which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. Lizzy at first had rather wondered that Mrs. Collins should not prefer the dining-parlor for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a pleasanter aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been much less in his own apartment had they sat in one equally lively; and she gave his wife credit for the arrangement.

From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went along, and how often especially Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had a few minutes' conversation with its mistress, but was scarcely ever prevailed on to get out.

Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; and till Lizzy recollected that there might be other family livings to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now and then they were honored with a call from her ladyship, and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement of the furniture, or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family. To Lizzy this great lady barely gave notice, beyond the first astonishing conversation, one that had left even Mr. Collins uncomfortable, though he did himself, recognize the fault as being the rudeness of the great lady that he called his patronage.

Lady Catherine turned out to be a tall, large woman, with strongly marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not conciliating, nor was she was rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, she believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he had represented. She saw that there was some resemblance between her and Mr. Darcy, whose features she had so closely studied as to make the comparison easy.

Lady Catherine began the previously mentioned conversation by observing to Mrs. Collins, that her friend Miss Smith, was a very genteel, pretty kind of girl.

“But, so they all are.”

Lizzy bit her tongue and waited.

“The blood of the father is, of course, diminished by whatever unfortunate woman mothers them. But they always look well—a way of taunting the suffering wives involved of course.”

Lady Catherine looked so angry that Lizzy could not help but think of Lady Anne’s disapproving glare. But it disappeared momentarily, and she looked Lizzy straight in the eye.

“I understand you have a fortune.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“’Tis a shame. It will make it even harder for you to find a respectable husband to befit your station. A small annuity would have done as well, I imagine. But I suppose you must be thankful that he did his duty by you. Perhaps he fancied himself in love with the girl… Or perhaps she was a fallen bit of gentry and your money comes from her family. You must tell me, Miss Smith. I am always curious of how families handle such things. We never had to deal with such a situation at Rosings, of course.”

“I do not know who my benefactor is, Lady Catherine.”

“You do not? Well, who has the responsibility of you?”

“I do not know, ma’am. We have always conversed through a solicitor.”

“Ah, yes, that is the way of things. Is it a London firm?”

“Lady Catherine, my guardian has always gone to such lengths to hide his identity that I would not do him the disservice of revealing what I might know.”

The woman made a funny sort of laughing sound, that sounded almost unnatural. From the expression of her friend, Lizzy thought that it was a sound that had not been heard before by the Collins. “You are not curious to know?”

Lizzy paused momentarily. It was her greatest wish to know. “Of course, Lady Catherine. But curiosity can be our downfall. If I have caused heartache by my existence, I may not wish to know it.”

Much to the relief of Mrs. Collins, who was quite mortified, Lady Catherine seemed satisfied by this answer.

A little later, Lady Catherine turned her attention back toward the girl she had previously ignored.

“I understand that you have had a young lady’s education. Do you play and sing, Miss Smith?"

"Yes, ma’am"

“Well, then you might use the instrument in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. You will be in no one’s way there.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Do you draw?"

Lizzy smiled, thinking of the master’s frustration at her sketches. "Yes, ma’am, though I have little talent."

“No, I suppose not. Did you learn languages and needlework?”

Lizzy’s first thought was that the two had little in common. “Yes ma’am,” she finally said.

"You may pass for a young lady of breeding then, with such money and an education. But you must never forget your station. Mrs. Collins has been very kind to you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lizzy thought that she was starting to sound like a hiccupping sycophant.

“You cannot expect such kindness from everyone. Too many in society have reasons to despise you.”

To this extraordinary statement, Lizzy said nothing. She merely nodded, and sat in mortification until Lady Catherine finished that visit. Thankfully, she subsequently paid Lizzy little attention but her often pained expression upon seeing her was enough to add evidence to Lizzy’s suspicions.

Lizzy soon perceived that, though this great lady was not in the commission of the peace for the county, she was a most active magistrate in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty.

The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; and Lizzy was able to have all of the time to herself that living with so many little girls had not allowed her. She had perhaps too much time alone to think, but such could not be helped. Their other engagements were few, as the style of living of the neighborhood in general was beyond the Collinses' reach. This, however, was no evil to Lizzy, and upon the whole she spent her time comfortably enough; there were half-hours of pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favorite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity.

In this quiet way the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be important. Lizzy had heard soon after her arrival that Mr. Darcy was expected there in the course of a few weeks. It was no secret to anyone that she was curious to see him again, though how much she truly desired to see him again was only her own secret. She wanted to converse with him, for he had left many questions unanswered at their last dance. She also desired to see how he acted in the company of his cousin, Miss de Bourgh, though as she did not go to Rosings (except quietly once or twice to play the pianoforte), she did not expect to be able to do so. Lady Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself. Thankfully, this news she had heard from Mrs. Collins, for the lady herself had not called on the parsonage in a few days.

His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage; for Mr. Collins was walking the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it; and after making his bow as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of his uncle, Lord -- -- , and to the great surprise of all the party, when Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen them from her husband's room crossing the road, and immediately running into the other, told the girls what an honor they might expect, adding --

"I may thank you, Lizzy, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me. Though I do not hope that he expects some dancing here."

“Mrs. Collins, do not say such things. He will displease his Aunt if he pays me the kind of friendly attentions that he did in Meryton. So I shall not expect it. He is merely calling out of politeness to you, I am sure.”

Charlotte was not so sure. But as she herself was unsure as to Mr. Darcy’s intentions towards her friend, she dared not tease her further.

Posted on: 2008-12-20

Chapter Twelve

Lizzy had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins, and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Lizzy merely curtseyed to him, without saying a word, though she did smile, which he, just barely, returned.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of Lizzy after the health of Miss Gosford. She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment's pause, added –

"My friend, Miss Bennet, has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?"

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The subject was pursued no farther. Instead, Mr. Darcy turned to her and said –

“I imagine I will see you at some dinner at Rosings, Miss Smith, where we might speak further on the goings on in Hertfordshire.”

It was an odd statement, for Mr. Darcy had never shown much interest in the recent home of his friend, but it seemed polite enough, and it was only after a little confusion that Lizzy responded.

“I am afraid I have not had the pleasure of visiting that house in any formal sense, Mr. Darcy. Though your aunt has been gracious enough to allow me the use of the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room.”

Mr. Darcy colored. “I was under the impression that Mr. and Mrs. Collins often dine at Rosings, Miss Smith. I am sorry if I was mistaken.”

Mr. Collins, overhearing his name in relationship with the word Rosings, turned immediately from Colonel Fitzwilliam, and nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, sir. Your Aunt is most magnanimous. We dine there often twice a week!”

Mr. Darcy looked back at Lizzy with a frown. “And you have been in residence some three weeks?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Lizzy nodded—she could not quite recall the number of days just then, for her conversation partner’s dark expression was quite distracting. He changed the subject, and they said little more before the gentlemen went away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the Parsonage, and Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither -- for while there were visitors in the house they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honored by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church.

It was after that service that Lady Catherine had turned her attention away from Mrs. Collins long enough to speak to Lizzy. “I suppose you may come to dinner as well, Miss Smith."

“I thank you, Ma’am. I should be honored,” said Lizzy, privately creating scenarios in which she might enjoy the dinner and the company of the nephews without that of the Aunt.

Later that evening, Lizzy was in her small room dressing (and entertaining similar thoughts) when she her heard a rap at the door.

“Shall you need the maid again?” asked Charlotte, coming through a moment later. Efficient as usual, she was dressed for dinner a full half hour before they needed to leave for the larger house.

Lizzy smiled. “I thank you Mrs. Collins. But if you will lower yourself to tie the last ribbon, which I cannot quite reach, Miss Lucas may have Susan’s abilities all to herself. That is if you think I look alright.”

“You look very pretty. I wish I might afford a dress half so nice.” Charlotte smiled. “Mr. Collins is a liberal husband, but he does not quite understand lady’s finery.”

“You are generous. It is not new but the material is fine. ”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes in inspection as she tied the aforementioned ribbon. She suddenly widened her smile. “Why that is your cream silk! The one you wore to my father’s gathering last autumn where you first danced with Mr. Darcy! How cleverly you have remade it! I would have never guessed.”

“Sharing a residence with twenty of our gender has done wonders for my creativity. Maria Thyme was apprenticed to a dressmaker before her father came into money.”

“It has served you well,” smiled Charlotte before adding in a whisper-- “And no doubt you wish to show Lady Catherine that you might wear a fine gown as well as the next lady.”

“You do not think it will show me as striving above my station?” asked Lizzy in the same quiet voice, though not without some bite.

“Please! If Lady Catherine were to have her way, we would all be dressed in neatly stitched sackcloth.”

“Mrs. Collins! I cannot believe you!” hissed Lizzy, trying to suppress her laughter. “Do not let your sister hear you, or she might think that you had broken into the store of communion wine!"

Charlotte’s face returned to her normal serene expression almost instantly. Only one slightly raised eyebrow gave any hint to her former rebellion. “Calm yourself dear friend. It is nearly time to leave.”

Some minutes later, the two ladies joined the others. Miss Lucas complemented Lizzy on her appearance. Inadvertently picturing sackcloth, Lizzy tried not to laugh, and adopting a rather strained expression, returned the compliment.

Mr. Collins noticed her discomfort. "Do not make yourself uneasy, Miss Smith, about your apparel. Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which becomes herself and daughter. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved."

“Mr. Collins, we must hurry, or we might be late,” smiled his wife, holding out her arm for her escort, at the same time glancing back at Lizzy with something very close to a wink.

As the weather was fine they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and Lizzy saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally cost Sir Lewis De Bourgh.

Her ladyship received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of traveling and staying at home, of new books and music; and they conversed with so much spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, as well as of Mr. Darcy. Hiseyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship, after a while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call out –

"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Smith? Let me hear what it is."

"We are speaking of music, madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

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

Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.

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

"I assure you, madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. She practices very constantly."

"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice. And some” (and here she glanced at Lizzy) “may practice very much yet might never play with the air of a true woman of breeding.”

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed at his Aunt’s comment, and made no answer.

When coffee was over Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Lizzy of having promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte, stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's countenance. Lizzy saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said--

“Mr. Darcy, I should wonder at your coming at all this state to listen to me now, when I am otherwise occupied at this instrument. You must think very little of my conversation this evening-- for you have hardly said a word to me nor spared me a glance until this moment."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to be ignoring you out of any particular wish of my own. I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you have more patience with the expectations of others than you give credit to in that pretty speech. No, I think you must be searching for a compliment through self-derision. Thus I say to you, you are indeed an entertaining partner when you set your mind to it."

Lizzy laughed heartily at his reply, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you the sense that I seek attention wherever I go. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire -- and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too -- for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your relations to hear."

"I am not afraid of you," said he smilingly.

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was more than a bit amused at her boldness. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

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

"I had not at that time the honor of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party."

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders."

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "But Miss Smith, I think you know for certain that I danced more than my usual amount if you take into consideration the entire time that I spent at Hertfordshire. I only dance with those I consider friends, and I had not yet the chance to make friendships by the night of the Assembly.”

Lizzy blushed at his implied compliment. “You are correct Mr. Darcy. I am afraid, Colonel Fitzwilliam, that I have little to say against your cousin after all. For he did make up for his behavior that evening. Though I would never accuse him of consistency of manner!”

"Consistency of manner," laughed Fitzwilliam. "Darcy is the most consistent man I know. I cannot imagine him acting in an uncertain way. Darcy, you must contradict Miss Smith!"

"I am afraid I cannot," said Darcy, "My behavior at Hertfordshire was unusual and inconsistent. But there were extenuating family circumstances that affected my behavior. Of this you know, Fitzwilliam.”

Lizzy glanced at the Colonel, who looked both thoughtful and a bit upset for an instant. She thought of his friendly manner toward her over the past week, despite the fact he was so far above her. In her somewhat frenzied imagination, she thought of Darcy taking his cousin into a confidence and of his cousin welcoming her as one of the family. Abruptly ending her daydream, she made herself pay attention to the notes before her. Darcy, seeing what he perceived to be her fumbling her way through a difficult passage, smiled at her in encouragement.

“I am afraid I must return to my Aunt’s company,” he said softly, “before she becomes upset with me. I only walked this way in order to compliment your performance.”

He returned to his Aunt, who looked less than thrilled with his momentary distraction, and spent the rest of the evening attending to his cousin. Despite this attention , Lizzy could not discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behavior to Miss De Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have been just as likely to marry her, had she been his relation.

Despite the occasional harsh glances from Lady Catherine, Colonel Fitzwilliam continued his attentions, and she remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was ready to take them all home.

Chapter Thirteen

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

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologized for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be within.

They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence, recollecting when she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed --

"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London."

"Perfectly so, I thank you."

She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short pause, added --

"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?"

"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing."

"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighborhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighborhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle."

"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchase offers."

Elizabeth made no answer. She could think of no other topic than the one she dared not talk of; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him.

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

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

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

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

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

"An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

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

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Lizzy "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family. Not everyone has the freedom to travel so far."

"It is a proof of your own well-traveled childhood, I imagine. I don’t suppose you have been able to return to Derbyshire for some time."

As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Lizzy fancied she understood, and she blushed as she answered –

"I have not. I have a comfortable income, but not the escorts and freedom to allow me frequent journeys, nor would I any longer claim any sort of familial connection to Derbyshire."

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "Yet, your familial connections may change, in the future, might they not Miss Smith?"

Lizzy looked surprised-- indeed he was so close to admitting the connection that she felt at once there could be no other explanation for such an extraordinary statement. The gentleman, however, seemed to have experienced some change of feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a colder voice --

"Are you pleased with Kent?"

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise – and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Smith, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to anybody, went away.

"What can be the meaning of this?" said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. "My dear Lizzy, I do hope that the news of this visit does not make it back to Lady Catherine. She is already displeased with him for his familiarity with you."

Lizzy thought the same, but pointed out that his visit most likely proceeded from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot be always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt.

Why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage it was difficult for all of its inhabitants to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice -- a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she wondered for her friend Lizzy and his attentions on that front, she set herself seriously to work to find them out. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to Lizzy the possibility of his being partial to her and the dangers of such an attraction, but Lizzy always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. Collins did not think it right to press the subject, for the end result could not be marriage—the distance between them was too great, and she would not have her friend ruined in such a way.

In her worst nightmares about Lizzy’s future, she also sometimes saw Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the pleasantest man; he certainly admired her, but his situation in life made him nearly as ineligible for marriage to Lizzy. Eventually, however, Mrs. Collins convinced herself that there could be no danger. Lizzy was no so unprotected nor unintelligent to expose herself to damage, now did she seem overly partial to either of the men. Darcy seemed to no longer pay her the especial attentions he had in Hertfordshire, and Colonel Fitzzwilliam seemed to type of man who simply enjoyed the company of others, whether those others be stable boy or king.

Posted on: 2008-12-27

Chapter Fourteen

More than once did Lizzy, in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. He never said a great deal, but she did give herself the trouble of talking and listening much; and it struck her in the course of their third rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions -- about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he be ready to acknowledge her openly as a sister? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her a little, for he was always vague enough for her to doubt her suspicion, but she was never quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage.

She was engaged one day as she walked in reperusing Miss Bennet’s last letter, and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not written in spirits, when, she was again surprised by Mr. Darcy.

“Miss Smith,” he said in pleasant greeting. “I see I have met you on the way home, so today’s conversation must be unfortunately short.”

“I would walk out again, Mr. Darcy. But Mrs. Collins normally expects me back at this time.”

“It is no matter. As I am also interrupting your letter reading.”

“Not at all. This is only an old letter from Miss Bennet. She has been so very out of sorts.”

He said nothing, which she wondered at, but she soon thought of another topic-- a bit of gossip that he might appreciate.

“I did hear from Miss Gosford yesterday. You will be glad to know, sir, that Miss King has broken off her engagement to Mr. Wickham. Apparently, her Uncle took your warning and has separated them.”

“You start your story in the middle, Miss Smith,” said the man, his voiced tinged with sudden frost. “I do not know of Miss King, nor her Uncle.”

“Do not worry, Mr. Darcy, that I was less than circumspect. Mr. Wickham attached himself to Miss King directly after she had inherited some ten thousand pounds. I believe it was not coincidental that he ended his attentions to me at the very same time. I told Miss Gosford of your warnings. And through her, it was suggested privately and gently to Mr. King that he might look into Mr. Wickham’s accounts. It was not so very dire, but it was obvious from his spending that he would leave Meryton with an undesirable level of debt. I know you are a private man, and your name was not brought into the proceedings, though I should tell you that Mr. Wickham has defamed you to more than one individual in the county.”

“There is a delicate matter,” said Mr. Darcy. “Part of our business, in which, Mr. Wickham, I assure you is the villain, I still do not wish to make public. So I thank you for your discretion.”

“Well, Miss King is safe, though I cannot promise for the heiress in the next town in which the militia might be stationed. I am glad that I trusted you enough to say something to Miss Gosford-- although you gave me no reason to.” This last bit was said in a lighter tone, but Mr. Darcy seemed hurt.

“I gave you no reason to trust me?”

“You sound surprised, Mr. Darcy. I know of your family, of course. But many good families have produced bad sons. And your warning had no evidence to back it. You have never countered Mr. Wickham’s accusations against you.”

He smiled. “I am glad that you value our friendship enough to trust me all the same, Miss Smith.”

Lizzy though he might of misunderstood her meaning, but he continued. “I do not know exactly what he accused me of, but I may tell you, that he received a gentleman’s education from my father and a living in father’s will. He did not wish for the latter so I gave him 3000 pounds to compensate for his loss. I should also say,” his voice deepened slightly, “that it is well enough that he is not a clergyman, for it is not only young heiresses that he targets for his attentions.”

The implications of this were enough that Lizzy could only nod knowingly.

“I am sorry to challenge you to speak of it, sir.”

“Not at all, Miss Smith. I am too glad for Miss King, that she is safe.”

“And now you have led me safely back to the parsonage. I thank you Mr. Darcy.”

“Your safety, Miss Smith, is one of my dearest concerns.”

Lizzy, who had turned for a moment to determine if Mr. Collins was in the front window, looked back toward her escort in some surprise. But he was already walking away from her with such speed that she wondered at the accuracy of her hearing.

It was only a day later when she heard the familiar rustle behind her. Looking up and expecting to observe Mr. Darcy, she was rather disappointed to instead see his cousin.

Forcing a smile, she said -- "I did not know before that you ever walked this way."

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

"No, I should have turned in a moment."

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

"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she.

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

"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy."

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

"In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?" asked Lizzy, who had long since perceived that she might speak freely with the Colonel, who had so little practiced superciliousness as to enjoy the company of all.

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

"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do."

"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money."

Lizzy laughed and said in a lively tone, "And pray, what is the usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds."

He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. But the focus had too long strayed from her favorite topic of conversation, and she spoke again in a moment.

"I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her."

"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."

"Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? I live at a school, you know, and have personal experience that young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way."

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

"You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a very great favorite with some ladies of my acquaintance -- Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them."

"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant, gentlemanlike man -- he is a great friend of Darcy's."

"Oh! yes," said Lizzy drily -- "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Care of him! -- Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture."

"What is it you mean?"

"It is a circumstance which Darcy, of course, would not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family it would be an unpleasant thing."

"You may depend upon my not mentioning it. I know very few people in this world."

"And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."

"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?"

"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady."

"And what arts did he use to separate them?"

"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam, smiling. "He only told me what I have now told you."

Lizzy made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.

"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?"

"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?"

"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case."

"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is lessening the honor of my cousin's triumph very sadly."

This was spoken jestingly; but she was so upset at the man, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent matters till they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room, as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men, over whom Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet she had never doubted; but she had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement of them. Lizzy admitted to herself that she cared for Mr. Darcy, with all of his inconsistent friendship, greatly, that he, despite some occasional coldness and their first infamous meeting, had been quite kind to her in his own way. And yet, he was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

"There were some very strong objections against the lady," were Colonel Fitzwilliam's words; and these strong objections probably were, her having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in business in London. Lizzy thought of Mr. Gardiner, the closest thing she had in the world to a father, and she seethed at such judgment.

"To Miss Bennet herself," she exclaimed, "there could be no possibility of objection; all loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could anything be urged against her father, who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and respectability which he will probably never reach." When she thought of the rest of the Bennet family, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allow that any objections there had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense; and she was quite decided at last that he had been partly governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.

The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned brought on a headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins, seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go, and as much as possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather displeased by her staying at home.

Chapter Fifteen

After Colonel Fitzwilliam and she had such a conversation, it was hard for Lizzy to remain calm and quiet as her headache might have called for. She knew not to be more upset with the Colonel or with Mr. Darcy. Indeed, she wanted to scream, or destroy something. But no one would hear her scream and there was nothing of hers to tear to pieces. Her only source of venting was in walking, and it was her earlier walk that had led to the revelation in the first place.

She was interrupted in her solitary frustrations by the maid, who showed in Mr. Darcy himself. This was a surprise to Lizzy, and she motioned for him to sit, but he stood, barely offering her a greeting and an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. and she watched him as he paced back and forth the room, several times, in apparent distress. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room again. Lizzy was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began --

“Miss Smith, I come here tonight because I must tell you something.”

Lizzy sat quiet. Newly aware of his feelings toward Miss Bennet, she was upset with him. Yet they had grown to be such friends, that she hardly knew how to tell him so. She could hardly accuse him of being such a snob when he was willing to be a friend to a girl such as herself. But friendship was one thing and marriage another.

“I am here, and may listen, Mr. Darcy,” she said, feigning a smile. Yet he looked so terribly upset, that she could not continue. “Is there something wrong, sir? How can I help you?”

“Miss Smith, I am struggling within myself. I wish to say so many things to you before I leave tomorrow! And yet I wonder if I can. Miss Smith, surely you must realize the extent of our relationship. And surely you must know my hesitation.”

“Your hesitation?” Lizzy sat flummoxed. This was the moment she had been waiting for. He knew what she did not for sure know. He would tell her.

“You must know that a man in my position would normally not acknowledge such a relationship. They would not be so honorable. And yet, I must be honorable. I must tell the world. I must.”

“Must you, sir?”

“Of course, I must be. Would you have me be otherwise?”

“I know you to be an honorable man, Mr. Darcy,” she said, at once doubting her own words, as she thought of Miss Bennet.

“Yet, how could I face society if I were to… yet, I could not if I were to offer you something else entirely.”

Lizzy sat back and looked at the man before her. He was looking away from her, he was flushed, he was rubbing his hands together. And she was utterly confused.

“Sir, may I be so bold and ask you a question?”

“Of course, Lizzy, my Lizzy. You may do what you wish.”

She started at the use of her name. But she would keep her wits about her. “You wish to acknowledge the relationship between us, but you are struggling about making it known to society. Do I have this correct?”

“Yes! Yes. What must you think of me? To even suggest a clandestine relationship, when rightly speaking, you should have so much more! Oh, Elizabeth, if it weren’t for society!”

He had called her Elizabeth. Jane was forgotten. This was the moment! “Mr. Darcy. I do not care what society thinks of me. It has long since rejected me. You need not make our relationship public for me to know its truth! I have only ever wanted to know the truth.”

He turned to her, his eyes burning, and grasped her hands. “You would have me become what I wish not to become! You would have me be a man no better than your father!”

“No, I do not need you to be a better man than my father,” she said softly. “Why do you feel guilty that you would not acknowledge me, when he would not? He provided for my comfort! That is all I expect!”

“You do not expect marriage, then?” asked Darcy, looking ill.

She looked at him, feeling very much like they were not understanding each other. “What is marriage to do with it? I may never marry.”

He let go, rather suddenly, and she fell back into her chair. He was standing straight again, facing the opposite wall.

It was in a low and forced tone when he spoke again. “It was your scruples that I depended on. Your morality that would force me to do the right thing. And now here you sit calmly and admit that you do not require, or even desire marriage. I thought better of you, Miss Smith, than I did of myself... And yet we will regret it. I am sure of it. We will regret it.”

“Mr. Darcy, I do not understand at all! What will we regret?”

He turned to her again, and closed his eyes. Lizzy thought she saw tears streaming out from under their lids. “I can barely even speak the word. It is so abhorrent to me.”

She had a sinking realization in her stomach of what he was suggesting. In her quest to know her family, she had ignored every hint to some other possibility. There was a very long pause as she realized the anguish that shown on his face. This was not a man looking at his sister. “Mr. Darcy,” she began haltingly. “Are you suggesting… that I might become… your… mistress rather… than your… wife?”

He opened his eyes and stared at her, and she realized all of those things that he had said over the last months, the looks he had given her, his familiar way with her…

“Then you are not… oh my Lord, Mr. Darcy, there has been a terrible misunderstanding!”

“What misunderstanding?” He spoke in a low, harsh tone.

“I thought all this time… that… you were from Derbyshire. Your father was wealthy and honorable! You said that your sister was tall, like me. You said that’s someday, I might stay at Rosings…” She trailed off. Her reasons sounded so feeble when she said them aloud.

“I do not understand.”

“I thought… that you might be my guardian… my brother… that your father… might be my father.”

He gaped at her, and looked ill, and then angry, and then ill again.

“You thought… brother and sister… my God!”

“I am sorry.” Lizzy was weeping now, and she was not a girl given to weeping. “I am a bit obsessed, you see. I’ve always wanted to know… who they were. I’ve always been told that I did not need to know, that I have been well looked after… that it should not matter. And yet, I’ve always wanted to know…”

“My father loved my mother.” His tone was short, clipped.

“I do not doubt it. But Mr. Darcy, there were whispers. Your Aunt! The way your mother looked at me…”

“What do you know of my mother?”

“Nothing. I only saw her once—“

“You,” he said, picking up his gloves and hat, “are nothing like my mother.”

“Mr. Darcy. Please.”

“I have been operating under quite the delusion, haven’t I? I struggled so. I was even willing to make you, Miss Smith of nowhere, of nobody! of nothing! an offer of marriage. And here you were, all the while, thinking such a thing of my father! You did not care for me.”

“Mr. Darcy, I did care for you! I do care for you.”

“As a brother,” he said. "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

“Wait!” She would speak with him, while she could.

He turned and looked at her. “Miss Smith.”

“I imagine that this will be the last time I see you, Mr. Darcy,” she said in a harsh tone, the type necessary to hold back uncontrollable sobbing. “However much I do not wish it to be the case. And it is only for that reason that I maintain my composure now. I apparently know very little about you, sir. But I do think that at this moment you know how my very dear friend Jane Bennet is feeling. She was and is heartbroken, and if you are the honorable man that you claim to be, you would, regardless of your feelings about me, go to Mr. Bingley and tell him that she has been in London these past few months, and that him leaving her in such a way was both cowardly and wrong.” He stared at her, silently, like a stone. “As a gentleman you should understand that such sincere feeling between two people so well matched in situation and temper should rightly result in marriage. There, I have said my peace. You best get back to your dear Aunt before the servants begin to talk. Enjoy the reassurance that a gentleman might know his family.”

She turned away, until she heard the door open and close behind her. And then she cried.

Posted on: 2009-01-02

Chapter Sixteen

Lizzy’s mortification at her own misconceived notion was second only to the embarrassment of knowing exactly what arrangement she had inadvertently agreed to. That he was still reeling from this unintentional offer when she had told him the true leaning of her thoughts, she realized, made him judge her more harshly than he would have, had he not so misunderstood her. That he insulted her so, angered her greatly. And yet, it was only in the case of Jane Bennet she could be truly irate. For she understood that his feelings toward her, and his wish to do the honorable thing, no matter how conflicted he might be, was a great accolade—so great, indeed, that she had never even considered its prospect. She knew instinctively, even in her grief, that offering filial affection in place of a romantic attachment was exceedingly offensive, no matter how innocently it was meant.

In addition to her distress for both Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet, she was remarkably aware of the anguish to her own person. She could not yet begin to sort out her feelings of sorrow but she knew somehow that she would be experiencing them for quite some time. Despite her mixed feelings toward Mr. Darcy, she very quickly determined that she could not bear to know that he would forever be somewhere in the world and thinking ill of her. She knew she must correct his own misunderstanding.

To that end, as soon as she had managed to briefly wish good night to her hostess and family, she drew paper from the writing desk and lit an extra candle. Determined that she would find him on the morrow and that he could think no less of her for such an unusual correspondence, she would explain herself to him, in hopes that he might someday forgive her for her own faulty assumptions.

After several hours, the letter she produced was one that could make her reasonably content, and she was able to convince herself to sleep, lest Mrs. Collins question her ability to walk out in morning.

Dear Sir,

First, let me address the subject of my friend Miss Bennet. I was not exaggerating her heartbreak in the moment. She is everything good and kind, and shows great patience with and gratitude toward a family that can be quite trying at times. She is shy and serene and does not show feelings toward others in public—an overcompensation I think, for her boisterous relations (who in a round-about way, are my relations as well, or at least the relations of the people who raised me.) As she is the eldest daughter of a landed gentleman, I cannot see what you so hold against her. She has little dowry and fewer connections, but she is the equal of Mr. Bingley in every way, I assure you. I had never considered that it was you who separated them—your cousin, I’m afraid, made that truth known to me just prior to your happening upon me yesterday. That you would consider Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley such an unequal match makes me feel more justified in the complete surprise and shock that I felt at your own offer.

Lizzy awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened: it was impossible to think of anything else; and totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon after breakfast, to indulge herself in air and exercise, in hopes that she might see Mr. Darcy again. She proceeded directly to her favorite walk, with the recollection of Mr. Darcy's sometimes coming there. Her suspicions proved correct. He held out a letter, and she instinctively did the same.

He looked at her in some surprise, “I have been walking in the grove in the hope of meeting you. I have written you a letter, but I see you have done the same.”

Lizzy managed a tiny smile, which she did not feel. “Indeed I did, sir. Pardon the impropriety. You may burn it, when you are finished, if you wish.”

“I can hardly judge you for your impropriety, Miss Smith.” He bowed to her, and gave her the most piecing glance, before turning around and walking briskly in the opposite direction.

With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Lizzy opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing a sheet of letter-paper, written quite through in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows --

Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so surprising to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon reconsidered. My character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention.

Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Chapter Seventeen

If Lizzy, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it may be well supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined.

She read with an eagerness which hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her friend's insensibility she instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing him justice. Until the last lines, he expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence. Yet, in the end, he seemed to acknowledge that he might have been mistaken, that he might have had little idea of the character of her friend. When she thought of what she knew about the Bennets’ frequent behavior, and how little she had been cognizant of at the Netherfield Ball, she considered that he might have had a point. It would have been hard to separate Miss Bennet from the considerations of her family. Here he was not forgiven, but she did understand him better. She read to the end of the section more than a little upset with Mr. Bingley, of whose character she thought was more constant that it appeared to be.

But when this subject was succeeded by his account of his father when she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which, must overthrow every cherished opinion of her past, her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. And when she had gone through the whole letter, put it hastily away, lest she break into tears again at his inability to give her any more information. Reading his reasonable explanation for her origin in Derbyshire, she felt embarrassed to ever think it might be otherwise.

In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked on; but it would not do: in half a minute the letter was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to his family and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. The account of her connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what she had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with her own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the end conclusion, the difference was great. What she had thought of her parentage was fresh in her memory, and as she read the words, she realized again the very reasonable possibility of what he was suggesting. She put down the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality, deliberated on the probability of each statement; but with little success. Again she read on; and every line proved more clearly that the most obvious conclusion, which she had not even considered, that any contrivance could so represent as to render Mr. George Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.

The general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay to the others’ charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She knew of plenty of children like her, who had not her advantages. Of his Aunt, she felt only sympathy. Her countenance, voice, and manner, had established her at once in the possession of every fault of the upper classes. She tried to recollect some instance of sympathy she had shown for the woman, lonely in her enormous house with only her sickly daughter, and remembered only her casual dismissal of that woman’s ridiculous condescension. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, his lack of evidence about anything to do with his parentage only disappointed her. She saw the indelicacy of putting herself forward as she had done and realized how stupid she had been. She refolded the letter and placed it in her pocket, but continued to walk, once again considering their relationship.

How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to herself were now the consequence of passionate and desperate love; and the relative mediocrity of her imagined affections seemed so pathetic in contrast. His behavior to herself could now have had no other motive; he had either been deceived with regard to her feelings, or had been so struggling with encouraging the preference which she believed she had most inconsistently and oddly shown. And in one moment, she realized all that she might have had. Proud and repulsive as his manners could be, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance -- an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways -- seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust -- anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits: that among his own connections he was esteemed and valued -- that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling. This she knew to be true, for she had experienced it for herself.

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of Mr. Darcy she could not think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.

"How despicably have I acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candor of my friends, and gratified my vanity in useless or blamable distrust. How humiliating is this discovery! yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But a limited vision, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of such a good man, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself."

From herself to Miss Bennet -- from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation was in many ways, quite reasonable. How could she deny that credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged to give in the other? He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her friend’s attachment; and she could not help remembering what Mrs. Collins’s opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Miss Bennet. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.

After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought -- re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important -- fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.

She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each called during her absence. They had not stayed but had left pleasant farewells to her. Lizzy could but just affect concern in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. She did not think she could bear to see Darcy again.

The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning, and Mr. Collins having been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence of their appearing in very good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then hastened, to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her. Lizzy was surprised that she was still included in the invitation and sought to make herself agreeable to the company.

She could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting Mr. Darcy’s letter. And she wondered at the extraordinary fact that she might by this time have been presented to her as her future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her ladyship's indignation would have been. "What would she have said? how would she have behaved?" were questions with which she amused herself, even as she felt a tinge of guilt at the sad truth behind that great woman’s husband and family.

Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. "I assure you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine; "I believe nobody feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached to me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely; more, I think, than last year. His attachment to Rosings, certainly increases."

Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter.

Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Smith seemed out of spirits, and immediately accounting for it herself, by supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon, she added,

"I don’t imagine that I should like to return to a school of so many younger girls. You should stay in town, when you return. You have friends, there, do you not?”

"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind suggestion," replied Lizzy, "I shall stay there for a time. I will be in town next Saturday."

Lady Catherine seemed resigned. "Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper. You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be discreditable to you to let them go alone."

"Mr. Gardiner—that is the husband of the woman I was raised with-- is to send a servant for us."

"Oh! -- So you have a connection in town who keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you have somebody who thinks of those things. Where shall you change horses? -- Oh! Bromley of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be attended to."

Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, which Lizzy believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.

Mr. Darcy's letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She studied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were at times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, she was still full of grief. And when she thought of what he must be feeling, anger was turned against herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she could not but think of her disappointed hopes. In her own past behavior there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in the unhappy defects of her situation, a subject of yet heavier chagrin. They were hopeless of remedy. Now that she had ruled out Mr. George Darcy, she was left again with only the vague idea of some unknown gentleman of fortune.

Anxiety on Miss Bennet's behalf was another prevailing concern; and Mr. Darcy's explanation heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend—which of course, she could. How grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family!

Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent there; and her ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars of their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.

When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them a good journey, and invited Maria to come to Hunsford again next year; and Miss De Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her hand to both.

On Saturday morning Lizzy and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary.

"I know not, Miss Smith," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins has yet expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us; but I am very certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for it. I hope there has been much to tempt you in our humble abode. Our plain manner of living, our small rooms and few domestics, and the little we see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like yourself; but I hope you will understand that such a life is the type that a good woman might strife for. And I hope that you are grateful for the condescension, as we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending your time unpleasantly."

Lizzy was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with Mrs. Collins, and the kind attentions she had received, must make her feel the obliged.

At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate parting between the friends, the girls was attended to the carriage by Mr. Collins, and as they walked down the garden, he was commissioning Maria with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks for the kindness he had received at Lucas Lodge in the winter, and his compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed them in, and the door was on the point of being closed, when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies at Rosings.

"But," he added, "you will of course wish to have your humble respects delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you while you have been here."

They made no objection; the door was then allowed to be shut, and the carriage drove off.

"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few minutes silence, "it seems but a day or two since we first came! -- and yet how many things have happened!"

"A great many indeed," said her companion with a sigh.

“I have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! How much I shall have to tell!"

Lizzy privately added, "And how much I shall have to conceal."