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Chapter 13. Clearing the Air.

Posted on 2010-08-05

The morning after his sister's intervention, Fitzwilliam Darcy woke from a sleep lasting nearly twenty hours. A powder prepared by his valet relieved the last traces of his headache so when he left his rooms, he felt very nearly like his usual self. However, he came to an abrupt halt upon entering the breakfast room and seeing Charles Bingley chatting merrily with Georgiana.

Not being a drinking man, Darcy was not practiced in the art of differentiating truth from fiction in the alcohol-induced haze of his memories. Had he indeed bared his soul to his friend or was it all just a nightmare? William prevaricated.

"Good morning, Georgiana. Bingley, it is good to see you again."

He was not pleased when the two were barely able to control their laughter while responding to his sober greeting. Gritting his teeth, he poured himself a cup of tea and filled a plate at the sideboard before sitting.

After taking a long sip of tea, he glanced up to see two pairs of amused eyes watching him. Finally accepting that he would not be able to bluff his way out, William hunched his shoulders and stared down into his cup. "Was I that ridiculous?"

"More pitiful than ridiculous, old man," said Bingley with a chuckle.

William looked up and saw that both were looking at him with a combination of amusement and compassion. He heaved a great sigh. "I owe you both an apology for my behavior."

Bingley cut him off with a chuckle before he could continue. "I was only here for the final performance yesterday afternoon and you owe me no apology for that. Or rather, your apologies then were quite sufficient." His expression became slightly more serious when he glanced toward Miss Darcy. "Your sister, however, deserves a great many pretty trinkets, dresses, ponies, or whatever you bribe her with to put up with you."

Georgiana was amazed to see a blush colour her brother's face as he turned to her, barely able to meet her eyes. "Georgie, I can't tell you how sorry I am." He paused and she saw him swallow. "If you wish to stay with our Aunt and Uncle, I understand…"

"Oh Wills, don't be silly!" She flew to his side and hugged him tightly. "I shan't leave you--you're my brother!" She leaned back so that she could look him in the face and then wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. "You've put up with me for all these years; I think I can put up with you sulking in your room for a day or two!"

The two Darcys gave each other watery smiles and Georgiana couldn't resist giving her brother another hug before she stepped back. "For now though, I must go apply myself to my music lesson before Mr. Alexander returns to point out all of my mistakes. The two of you have a great deal to talk about." Squeezing her brother's hand, Georgie gave Mr. Bingley an encouraging smile before leaving the room, taking care to shut the door behind her.

Darcy heaved a great sigh of relief, though some of his anxiety returned when he faced his friend again. "Charles?"

The younger man couldn't stop a bark of laughter. "Oh Darce! You should see your face; you look like a man about to walk the plank over a sea of man-eating sharks!"

Darcy managed a faint smile. "I shall not say how close you are to sketching my thoughts; you think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."

It was some minutes before Mr. Bingley's laughter calmed enough that he could speak coherently. Seeing that his friend had barely touched his heaped plate, Charles waved at it. "Eat up-- we can talk when you're done." He kept up a cheerful commentary about his trip to Yorkshire for many minutes until it was clear that Darcy had eaten his full and was merely moving crumbs of egg around on his plate.

Still reveling in the new feeling of being a counselor to his older and usually wiser friend, Charles chuckled again before jumping to his feet. "I say, shall we head to your library? Nice and private, there." Without waiting for an answer, he dropped his napkin on the table and practically skipped out the door.

Darcy sat silently for a moment before heaving a huge sigh and following grimly.

When both men were seated in comfortable chairs by the windows, Charles broke the silence. "Exactly how much do you remember of yesterday?"

After catching the twinkle of amusement in his friend's eyes, Darcy focused on the rug. "Charles, just tell me what happened. It will be easier for both of us."

Bingley snorted. "Easier for you, I suppose. Been having some extraordinary nightmares and not sure if they are true or not?" Though he had determined to forgive the man, Charles was not above enjoying the pained look that settled on his friend's face.

"Well, you may rest easy in one fact: though Miss Elizabeth Bennet did visit your home yesterday, she did not enter, nor make any attempt to enter your bed chambers and see you in such a state." Such a range of emotions flew across Darcy's face-- dismay, embarrassment, relief--that Bingley barked a laugh.

William looked up at him with such an empty, lost look that the younger man sobered quickly and explained. "I arrived home from Yorkshire yesterday about noon and, as your note sounded rather urgent, came straight over."

Charles paused as Darcy opened his mouth but then closed it without speaking.

"I was certainly surprised to find Miss Elizabeth taking tea with your sister! We didn't visit for long; Miss Darcy indicated that you wished to speak with me but were 'unwell'--I believe that is how she phrased it--and suggested that I visit you in your rooms. When I was let in, you were half-dressed, sloppy drunk, and attempting to barricade the doors against invaders… whom I eventually came to understand meant Miss Elizabeth. Hawkins and Holmes both deserve exorbitant raises, by the way."

Darcy had turned sideways in on the sofa and covered his eyes with his arm. "Charles…. I'm so sorry… I don't know how to express it…"

Bingley crossed his legs at the ankles and waved a hand at his friend casually. "Yes, yes. You apologized yesterday. Repeatedly. Groveled, really. A simple, sober expression of regret is all that is necessary now."

Upon seeing his friend's look of disbelief, Charles shrugged but his tone became more serious. "I spent a good deal of time in Yorkshire thinking about what I want in my life and it comes down to something very simple; I want to be happy. I am not ambitious, socially or politically. I have been blessed with enough money to do as I please, and Jane Bennet is what pleases me. She makes me happy." His eyes took on a faraway, dreamy look and he was quiet for a moment before focusing on Darcy again.

William took that moment to express his regrets. "Charles, again, I can't apologize enough. I never should have interfered…" He stopped when his friend raised his hand and asked a simple question.

"Why did you do it?"

Darcy rubbed his face with both hands. "The neighborhood was buzzing with gossip--Mrs. Bennet was telling everyone of her expectation that an engagement was imminent. Your affection was obvious, but…" His discomfort was clear. "I watched Miss Bennet but I didn't see any difference between her manner towards you and any other gentleman. I'm so sorry, Charles. I was an arrogant fool. I never should have said anything." He finally glanced up to see his friend regarding him calmly.

"You knew that Jane was in London?"

William's tone was deeply apologetic. "Your sister told me that she had called at the Hursts' home in January."

"Caroline?"

Will nodded. "Miss Bingley tried to ask me for advice on how best to discourage her. I should have recognized it as a sign of Miss Bennet's feelings, but I was so wrapped up in…" He trailed off and covered his face with his hands.

Charles prodded him. "You were so wrapped up in…?"

Will sighed before speaking softly. "I fell in love with Miss Elizabeth from almost the first moment I saw her, but I determined that she was not good enough to be Mrs. Darcy."

Bingley snorted and William could only grimace in agreement. "I know; I was utterly ridiculous. It all seems so strange now… as though I was a different man." He paused before continuing. "In hindsight, I am sure that my assessment of Miss Bennet's emotions were tainted by my own illogical desire to avoid my own feelings for Elizabeth."

The two men sat for a few minutes in silence, both considering the far-reaching effects of their visit to Hertfordshire. "Charles, if you can ever forgive me…"

Bingley waved him off and spoke before his friend could begin another lengthy exposition of his regrets. "Will, you don't apologize very often but when you do, you are exceedingly thorough. I forgive you. Your advice was given in good faith and you never lied to me. Unlike Caroline." His face darkened for a moment before returning to his point. "You are neither my father nor my keeper; you are my friend. You advised me to the best of your ability--we all have our judgment skewed by emotions now and then. When you discovered that you were wrong, you told me immediately.

"I take responsibility for my own decisions, which is why I can forgive you more easily than I can forgive myself. In this instance, as with many others, I found it easier to be guided than to argue for what I wanted. I knew how Jane felt about me; I was the recipient of her looks and smiles, not you or Caroline. Yet, when you all followed me to London after the ball, it was easier to settle here for Christmas and then remain for the Season than to fight for what I desired."

Bingley looked over at Darcy who was watching him intently. "I am uncomfortable with disagreements, as you know. But I must not continue to allow my dislike of conflict to run my life… and possibly ruin my chance at happiness."

The two men sat in silent reflection for many minutes before William cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "The evening that we attended the Meryton Assembly, I wanted to sprint from the room and hide. Everyone was staring, gossiping about how much I was worth."

Charles opened his mouth but found he could not laugh at his friend's honest confession. "I hadn't realized how uncomfortable you were. Is that why you're always stalking around, stone-faced, hiding in corners?"

William nodded slightly, studying his left thumbnail intently. "I would have been hard pressed to remember a single name or face to whom we were introduced."

The younger man grunted. "One of them was Miss Elizabeth."

Darcy groaned and slumped back into the chair, closing his eyes again. "Oh Lord, yes. You tried to convince me to dance and she heard every word of my conceited, self-important refusal."

Charles blinked, barely remembering the conversation. "What happened?"

"You had just danced with Miss Bennet and were encouraging me to dance with her sister. I assumed that you were pointing out Miss Mary who, shall we agree, is not quite of the standard set by her elder sisters."

Bingley nodded; any man with eyes would acknowledge that the middle Bennet daughter was not a great beauty.

William continued, his tone self-mocking. "I was… overly clear in my opinion, shall we say. Unfortunately, Elizabeth overheard our conversation and understood that you had been recommending herself as a dance partner. Quite logically, she took my words to also be referring to herself, however wide of the mark. Thus was born Miss Elizabeth Bennet's first opinion of my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish distain for the feelings of others."

Despite his prior knowledge, Charles was stunned. He had understood that Miss Elizabeth disliked Darcy and enjoyed tweaking his nose in discussion; that much had been obvious. That she had formed such a strong prejudice against his friend and so early in their acquaintance was a shock.

"I'm sorry, Darce. I can't even imagine. Did you really suspect nothing of her feelings when you proposed?"

Darcy flushed and looked at him sharply. Charles shrugged and explained, "We talked a great deal yesterday. Or rather, you talked and I listened." He looked at his friend with a hint of challenge in his eye. "Is it such a bad thing, to share your problems with me?"

William slumped back again. "No, of course not… I should appreciate it; I am just not accustomed to… to…"

"Sharing your troubles?" Charles laughed. "No, I should say not. But it would do you good to practice, for I do not believe that Miss Elizabeth would stand for having you shut her out!"

Darcy's eyes popped open. "I must disgust her… She shall never wish to see my face again! What was I thinking? Getting myself blind drunk, and with my baby sister in the house of all things! She must despise me…"

Charles cut his friend off before he could go farther in his self-condemnation. "Relax, Will. She does not despise you--she was… concerned."

Darcy's mouth remained hanging open for a moment before he snapped his jaw shut. "Concerned?" He finally ventured softly.

Bingley rolled his eyes. "After I left you to be tucked into bed by your excellent valet, Miss Elizabeth and I had a bit of a chat." He couldn't help but chuckle when William blanched.

"I laid out the facts as best I understood them and we straightened out a few misunderstandings."

Suddenly the original reason that had driven him to hide in his rooms for days crashed down on Darcy like a pile of bricks. Before he could say anything, Charles was waving his hand in front of his face.

"Darcy? Yoo-hoo, Will? Try to focus while I valiantly attempt to fix your love life."

When he was sure that at least most of his friend's attention was back on him, Charles continued. "First off, your letter seems to have corrected many of her misconceptions. She has even forgiven you for your actions separating me from her sister, as have I. In fact, she thought that you were aware of that."

Bingley looked inquiringly at Darcy who nodded slightly, though he continued to look morose.

Charles continued, "In short, she does not hate you but she does not think she knows you very well. I believe her exact words were something like 'the man I thought I knew turns out to have been a figment of my imagination.' However, she is not at all averse to expanding your acquaintance; quite the opposite, in fact. It is my opinion that you have an excellent shot at making her fall in love with you… if you can avoid insulting her and her family for an hour or so, that is."

Not even this last bit of teasing could quench the happiness spreading across Darcy's face. There was one last thorn still worrying him, however.

"But, I heard her aunt and uncle speaking… speaking of…" He trailed off.

Bingley chuckled, exceedingly pleased with the feeling of helping his friend for once. "Ah yes, your bit of ill-placed eavesdropping. You and Miss Elizabeth both seem to have a talent for that." He chuckled again.

"I explained what you had heard to Miss Elizabeth as best I could. You were rather expansive in your story yesterday; I took the liberty of presenting her with a summarized version only."

Charles was amused to see his usually stoic friend positively cringing. "I explained that you had overheard her relations saying that she had been uncomfortable in Kent after refusing a proposal and that her mother was quite upset about it."

Darcy groaned and Bingley couldn't help but be amused by the normally imperturbable man's discomfort. "At first, Miss Elizabeth was confused; apparently only her sister and father were aware of your proposal…" Darcy's eyes popped open; relieved but also discomfited by the new thought that Mr. Bennet knew of his unfortunate addresses to that gentleman's favorite daughter.

"But after further discussion, she realized that it was not your proposal that the Gardiners were speaking of."

Darcy shook his head, trying to understand. "But they said that she must have been very uncomfortable staying in Hunsford. And that her mother was upset that she had turned down such an eligible offer."

Bingley smirked. "They were referring to Mr. Collins." He sat back and watched the impact of his words.

William still didn't quite understand. "My aunt's curate?"

Charles bounced slightly in his chair. "Mr. William Collins, Miss Elizabeth's cousin and Mr. Bennet's heir." He paused but added another bit of explanation when Darcy remained silent. "The inheritor of their father's estate would have been a most eligible match for any of the Miss Bennets."

Will gaped with astonishment and Charles couldn't help bouncing in his seat again, his face wreathed in smiles. "Apparently your aunt sent her parson to Hertfordshire with the appointed goal of choosing a wife from among his cousins. When Miss Elizabeth declined his kind offer, Mr. Collins promptly turned his attentions toward her good friend and neighbor, Miss Lucas, who accepted him in short order."

Darcy burst to his feet and strode about the room. "That… that… toad! That groveling, sniveling, pitiful creature dared ask for Elizabeth's hand in marriage?!?"

Charles was having a most amusing day. "Oh yes, he most certainly did. And from what I gathered, Mrs. Bennet was all for the match--it would have secured her own future, after all."

When William glared at him, Bingley shrugged. "With five unmarried daughters and the estate entailed away, she is in a precarious position. I discussed it with Mr. Bennet one evening after supper. Apparently there's some bad blood between the families and Mrs. Bennet knew better than to trust the Collins family for any benevolence toward her and her daughters, should her husband die."

His friend's words floated across William's consciousness but most of his mind was focused on sorting out his previous misunderstandings. "So Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were discussing how uncomfortable Elizabeth had been, living in the parsonage with her rejected suitor-cum-cousin and his new wife, her best friend."

"As I said."

Darcy's voice gained force as his understanding grew. "And her mother's fretting over Mr. Collins made it intolerable for Elizabeth at Longbourn. By God, I still can't believe that she was forced to endure a proposal from that… imbecile! It must have been completely intolerable!"

William caught sight of his friend's amused face and suddenly all his fury dissolved and he flopped back into his chair. "And yet, I was the last man in the world whom she could ever have been prevailed on to marry."

Charles' face grew compassionate. "She actually said that? You mentioned it yesterday but I'd thought it was just a drunken exaggeration."

Darcy tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Oh, she said it, all right. My pretty little speech made her so angry that she was well beyond any prevarication when I made the mistake of demanding an explanation for her rejection. My mind has been repeating her words for a month now, day and night."

Not wanting his friend to slide back into melancholy, Bingley spoke up brightly. "Well! The degree of misunderstandings that has arisen between the two of you is astonishing, but let us focus on how best to heal the breach. It should take a very little, I believe."

William shook his head and focused on his friend. "Why are you doing this for me, Charles? I don't deserve your friendship, much less your help."

Bingley was about to shrug off the question with a quip and a laugh, but saw that his friend was serious. He sighed. "Will, you are my friend, and I hope that I am yours. Friendship does not mean that one is always taking and the other always giving, you know? I have relied on you for years; you helped me fit in at school when I was the unpolished son of a Yorkshire carriage-maker, reeking of new money. And when my parents and brother died, I can't imagine what I would have done without your guidance. I'd never expected to have to take over Father's business; we all knew that Arthur was being groomed for his place since birth. When they both died, I have no idea what I would have done if you hadn't been there to guide me through all the legal details and business meetings."

Charles paused, his mind momentarily overwhelmed by emotional memories. Finally he turned to Darcy who had remained silent for many minutes. "Now allow me to be of help to you. Please." He grinned. "If for no other reason than for my ego; helping you with your problems makes me feel like a man instead of a little brother always scampering along behind you."

If anything, Darcy's face became more solemn. "Charles, I never meant to make you feel that you were the lesser partner in our friendship."

He was about to speak again when Bingley waved him off. "William, I've spent a good bit of time thinking lately. Yorkshire is good for thinking." The two men shared a small smile. "You have always had a great deal of responsibility placed upon you. Certainly more so since your father's death, but really you were raised to know your duties from the moment you opened your eyes. I could have been anything--clergyman, soldier, lawyer, doctor, politician, tradesman. Father gave me a good education and would have given me a financial start in whatever profession I chose.

"I never got around to making that decision because he and my brother died, thrusting me into a position I'd never expected. I've been drifting with the wind--making the decisions that were thrust upon me or allowing others to do so for me.

"That is why it is so easy for me to forgive you your interference in my relationship with Jane. It came easily to me to depend on you to make decisions for me; you are good at it."

Seeing that Darcy was about to argue, Charles spoke over him, attempting to explain. "William, you are one of the most intelligent, honest, and above all, responsible men that I know. You take your duties very seriously and you kindly made my well-being one of those responsibilities. However, it is high time for me to take control of my own life."

Charles looked his friend straight in the eye, desiring him to understand. "I appreciate your aid and advice and always will, but the best help you can give me now is to be a friend. Tell me if I am being too easily swayed--by my sister, for example--give me advice, but step back and make me take responsibility, even if it forces me into conflict."

William spent several minutes thinking on Bingley's words before realizing that his friend was watching him intently, waiting for a response. Will shook himself and spoke carefully. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but you are right. I have gotten into the habit of believing that it is my responsibility to solve everyone's problems."

At Bingley's raised eyebrows, he shrugged. "I've been talking to Georgiana as well. It is not easy for her to grow up into a young lady when I still treat her as my baby sister and try to shield her from everything bad or uncomfortable in the world."

The gentlemen were quiet for some minutes before Charles finally laughed out loud. When Will looked at him questioningly, he shrugged. "I was just thinking that we should submit your name for the next election; surely a stint as prime minister would provide you with enough problems to solve… I can't even imagine what you will be like when the suitors begin to flock after Miss Darcy's debut!"

William groaned, slumping back and throwing his arms in the air theatrically. "I don't want to think about it! Do you suppose there are any convents in Derbyshire where I might lock her up? She would make a lovely nun, don't you think?"

The two men laughed and spent some minutes jesting over their sisters' differing personalities and prospects for matrimony. For the first time in years, Fitzwilliam Darcy felt the relief of a friendship based on camaraderie rather than responsibility.

Georgiana found them some time later, still in the library and with such a sense of fellowship between them that she could not help but smile. "Shall you and Mr. Bingley be joining me for luncheon, Wills?"

The two friends agreed and the trio enjoyed an amiable meal. By the end, they had agreed to call on the Gardiners and Miss Bennet that very afternoon and invite the family on a day trip to the Kew Gardens. Darcy was uncomfortable with the idea of facing Elizabeth after his recent behavior, but was partially reassured by Charles and Georgiana. Regardless, he took the first opportunity to change the subject.

"Charles, now that I think on it, you will enjoy meeting Mr. Gardiner; his life has many parallels with your own. His own father died just as he was finishing university so he was thrust into managing the family business at a young age."

Bingley was intrigued (particularly as he wished to make a good impression on Jane's favorite uncle and aunt) and asked for more details. He and Darcy discussed the best way for him to approach Miss Bennet and gain her forgiveness. With suggestions from Georgiana, Charles decided that he would send notice immediately to his housekeeper to begin opening up Netherfield for a long visit. While that was being accomplished, he would remain at Derwent House and visit with the Gardiners and Miss Elizabeth, hoping to gain a positive recommendation from them to the family at Longbourn.

As Georgiana prepared to find the housekeeper and inform her of their guest's plans, Charles was thinking. "As distasteful the task, I must also deal with my own sisters before I depart for Hertfordshire."

Both Darcys looked over at his solemn tone.

William asked softly, "Shall you confront them?"

Charles sighed but then sat up and straightened his shoulders. "Yes." He spoke decisively, brows knit. "But first I need to determine a few facts. To be quite honest, I've been in a bit of a fog for the last few months. I need to know just how far Caroline is going in her deception and, if I can, why." Charles nodded at William. "Darce, you had good intentions. I am not so sure of Caroline. She is obsessed with clawing her way up the social ladder regardless of who it hurts; I need to see how she acts before I decide what to do about her."

The three sat thinking for a few minutes before Charles spoke again in a slightly lighter tone. "And Miss Darcy, I would be greatly obliged if you do not invite my sisters on our little walking tour of the gardens… I am fairly certain that Caroline would do all she can to make it unpleasant for some others of our party even more than myself." He grinned at Darcy who rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

In short order, the Darcy carriage was stopping in Gracechurch Street and the Gardiners' parlor maid announced the visitors. "Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mr. Bingley, to see you, ma'am."

The visit was short and Darcy could recall little of the conversation after Mrs. Gardiner accepted the invitation and it was arranged that the group would venture out to Kew in two days. He ventured several glances toward Elizabeth; her countenance seemed more strained than usual but Mrs. Gardiner's friendly conversation made up for any lack in her niece's.

William caught her studying him several times with a concerned look in her eye but there seemed to be no chance of any privacy for them to speak. This was reinforced when several ladies were shown into the parlor, clearly there to visit with Mrs. Gardiner and discuss some charity work.

Mr. Darcy and his party politely made their farewells. Just as William was about to follow his friend and sister out the front door, he heard light footsteps tripping down the hall. He turned and found that Elizabeth had followed him.

Unconsciously, she stretched her hand out and touched his arm, looking up at him with worry clear in her eyes. "Mr. Darcy, I wanted to see… to make sure that you were quite well, sir. Yesterday, your sister mentioned that you were unwell…" Elizabeth trailed off and coloured slightly, dropping her eyes.

Darcy's heart was ready to burst. She might not love him yet, but it was unmistakable that she cared. He covered her slender hand with his own and spoke gruffly. "I am perfectly well; the affliction was a result of my own stupidity and was quite cleared up this morning."

She looked up at him, eyes serious. "I am glad."

Feeling as though his heart might pound out of his chest, William pressed her hand slightly. "I look forward to our outing the day after tomorrow. Have you visited the gardens before? They are exquisite at this time of year."

Elizabeth had coloured slightly at the feeling of his hand upon her own but did not remove it. "I have seen the gardens but it was some years ago. I look forward to it as well." She smiled and attempted a jest to lighten the mood. "For I do love to walk, as you know."

She was left blinking at the sight of Fitzwilliam Darcy's full, dimpled smile. "I do know. I…"

At that moment, a maid entered the hall, carrying a fresh tea tray toward the parlor and Elizabeth jumped slightly and withdrew her hand.

Understanding that further conversation would have to wait, William bowed deeply and took a last look at her dear face before departing. "Good day, Miss Elizabeth. Until Saturday."

That evening, while the Darcy siblings enjoyed a quiet yet amiable meal together, Mr. Bingley dined with his own family. He was more restrained than usual but it went unnoticed as Caroline chattered on about parties and gossip. At one point during the fish course, she paused to remonstrate a servant and Louisa turned to Charles and asked after their relations in Yorkshire. He managed only a few sentences before their younger sister demanded the attention of the table again.

"Really, Charles. I can't imagine why you had to stay there so long! You should have returned to London weeks ago. Surely a letter would have been sufficient--there is no reason to waste your time on such long visits when you had much better be in London." She smiled cunningly toward Mrs. Hurst. "Miss Darcy was asking after you."

Having just spent much of the day with Miss Darcy and knowing precisely what she and her brother thought of Caroline, Charles could barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "They are our closest relations, Caroline. Besides, I needed to sit in on several meetings. The Luddite problem seems to be settling down, but our cousins still wished to discuss issues of working conditions and security for the machinery. It was quite interesting, actually."

Bingley looked up and noted the variety of expressions on his family's faces. Mr. Hurst seemed to be trying to process his statement but was hindered by the excessive wine he had imbibed. Louisa was staring at her younger brother as if she had never seen him before. And Caroline…. his younger sister Caroline was staring at him with a mixture of disgust and horror that she made no attempt to hide.

"Charles--what can you be thinking, to involve yourself so!?!"

Bingley sighed and signaled the servants to clear his plate. "I was thinking that I have a responsibility to our father's business, even if I do not take as a active role in the management as Arthur would have."

Louisa's face tightened with grief at the mention of their elder brother.

There was no hint of sadness in Caroline's voice, however; only disdain. "Don't be ridiculous, Charles. You are to be a gentleman and all of our efforts will be ruined if it becomes known that you are involving yourself in trade."

Bingley eyed his sister carefully. Had she no pride in their family? "Caroline, our father (and his father before him) worked very hard to provide us with a better chance in life than he had. I, for one, am proud to be known as his son and plan to fulfill the responsibilities left to me to the best of my ability. If that means attending a few business meetings or even visiting a factory or warehouse, then so be it."

Caroline was aghast. "Are you insane? All of our acquaintances will shun us! It is bad enough that our grandfather worked with his hands; at least Father planned to buy an estate. Louisa--tell him!"

Charles shrugged casually although he was listening to Caroline's diatribe closely. Her words were more revealing than she realized. "Darcy and I were talking about families and duty this morning; it reinforced my determination to be more attentive to my responsibilities."

Miss Bingley blanched. "You discussed our family business with Mr. Darcy?!? How could you, Charles?!? We shall be lucky if he doesn't rescind our invitation to Pemberley this summer!"

This time Charles did roll his eyes. Did Caroline really understand so little of the man that she had been plotting to marry?

"Darcy has a great deal of respect for our family; his own father invested in our father's business." When Caroline looked dismayed, he shook his head. "Really, Caro, he has been my friend since school. He knows everything there is to know about me."

While his sister was sputtering in consternation, he waved his fork at her dismissively. "Besides, I will not be able to visit Pemberley this summer."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Caroline began to shriek. "Whatever are you speaking of? Of course you are going to Pemberley! We are all going to Pemberley! I must… You must…" In her anguish she tipped over a wine goblet.

Charles sighed and reached to right his sister's glass; luckily it had been empty. When she finally paused to take a breath, he spoke. "As you said, our father wished me to purchase an estate. I spent some time today with Darcy, discussing the responsibilities of an estate owner. I shall not be going to Pemberley because I must be in Hertfordshire."

Caroline gaped like a fish. "But Charles--we decided that you were to give up the lease on Netherfield. It was completely inappropriate. Certainly Mr. Darcy told you the same; you would do much better to spend the summer at Pemberley, learning from him." She brightened, certain of her ability to manage her brother. "And of course I shall come to look after dear Georgiana; really Mr. Darcy shall need an experienced hostess as she is not yet out and we shall certainly be doing a great deal of entertaining."

Bingley was becoming increasingly disgusted by his sister. He took a sip of wine before speaking with a great deal more determination than his family was accustomed to hearing from him. "No, Caroline. I shall be returning to Netherfield in about a week; that will give me time to tie up my affairs here in London and allow Mrs. Nichols to open up the house."

Seeing that his sister was about to begin protesting again, he spoke over her. "I have not decided if I will be purchasing Netherfield, but I will be continuing the lease for at least another year. Darcy and I agreed that it is an excellent situation for me to learn the duties of an estate owner."

Charles decided that his pudding was quite unappetizing and put his fork down carefully before looking up at his sister again. A flicker of cunning flashed across her face before she donned a conciliatory mask.

"Of course, Charles. If Mr. Darcy has recommended it, then it must be so. But are you certain that you are quite ready to take on the management by yourself? Wouldn't it be better to have Mr. Darcy come with us to Netherfield so that he may assist you? And dear Georgiana must come as well--she will be such a source of good breeding and refinement in that dreadful backwater."

Caroline's calculating smile became even brighter. "Of course; we could spend a few weeks at Netherfield and then all travel to Derbyshire together! What a wonderful way for our two families to become even closer…"

Watching his sister's machinations was making Charles feel slightly ill, but he still had a few facts to determine before he could remove himself from her presence.

"No, Caroline. Darcy and his sister will be leaving for Derbyshire about the same time that I depart." Before Caroline could concoct any more schemes, Charles turned the conversation. "I meant to ask; what correspondence have you had from our Hertfordshire acquaintances? We left rather suddenly last November and I am afraid I shall have to make my apologies to our neighbors for not taking my leave in person."

Miss Bingley's eyes were wide and it was obvious to her brother that she was scrambling to cover her lies. "Oh, really Charles. You need not bother with any of them; there was no one of any significance in that miserable place."

Charles kept his face neutral but watched her very carefully. "Surely you understand that, as the master of Netherfield Park, even the most minimal politeness requires me to call on my immediate neighbors, at the very least. Besides, I had thought that you were corresponding with Miss Bennet?"

Caroline attempted to look compassionate without much success. "Oh, Charles… I'm so sorry. I know that you liked her but you will only bring yourself pain if you put yourself in Jane's company again."

"You have not heard from her at all?"

His sister shot a worried look at Mrs. Hurst but lied without hesitation. "No, Charles, just as I told you before. I wrote as you requested but she never replied. Miss Bennet was a very pretty girl but she made it quite clear that she just wasn't that in to you. If you insist on venturing into Hertfordshire, I would recommend that you avoid those artful Bennets altogether." This last was said with a sneer.

Bingley sat quietly for some minutes, thinking on what his sister had told him and comparing it to what he now knew to be the truth. Suddenly he felt very, very tired and wished only to be relieved of her company. Bringing his attention back to the present, he realized that Caroline had been talking the entire time and had argued her way back to the idea that the Bingleys and Hursts would accompany the Darcys to Derbyshire for the summer, bypassing Hertfordshire altogether.

Sighing, Charles pushed his chair back and stood, facing his sister with a stern look. "Caroline. You are not going to Pemberley. I have attempted to spare your feelings, but the fact is that Darcy invited me; you were only welcome as part of my party. As I am not going, you are no longer invited."

Thinking of all the pain his sister had caused, Bingley couldn't resist a final dig at her. "Besides, I have it on good authority that Darcy will soon be courting a young lady and hopes to have her family visit Pemberley this summer. You would only be in the way."

With that, Charles pushed his chair against the table and headed for the door. He made it halfway before Caroline began shrieking.

"Of what are you speaking!?! I demand to know, Charles!! I have heard nothing of Mr. Darcy courting anyone! Surely you don't mean that sickly cousin of his?"

Bingley stood at the door with his hand resting on the knob and looked back at his family. Mr. Hurst looked amused at his sister-in-law's histrionics. Louisa was watching her brother questioningly but without any apparent malice. And Caroline… Caroline was clawing her way out of her chair, nearly taking the tablecloth with her as she stood.

"Charles--tell me immediately! What do you know?" she ordered, her voice rising with desperation. If there had been any hint of sadness over a lost love or even a lost friendship, he would have been inclined to forgive her. As it was, he had no qualms with dismissing his sister's hopes with a seemingly offhanded remark designed to cut deeply.

"No one in our circle, I am sure. Someone of Darcy's position would only consider a lady worthy of becoming the next Mistress of Pemberley."

Caroline fell back into her chair, devastated. Feeling rather ashamed of himself, Charles decided to gift her with a bit of truth. "Sorry, Caro--I'm teasing a bit. Darcy doesn't care as much about the social standing of his future wife as much as he does about her intelligence and character. He believes that he has found someone with whom he can build a marriage based on mutual love and respect. I, for one, plan to support him in every possible way in his quest for happiness, just as he has done for me.

With those words, Charles Bingley left, shutting the door behind him so that he would not hear any of his sister's further outbursts. Accepting his coat and hat from the butler, he declined the offer of a carriage and departed his brother-in-law's house on foot. It was a lovely night for a walk and, though he was exhausted, he also had a feeling of lightness that he had not felt in years.

Chapter 14. A Walk in the Park.

Posted on 2010-08-12

May 1818

Thanks to a slightly sheepish warning from Mr. Bingley, the Darcys made certain that their butler knew to turn away all but a select few, saying that the family was not at home to callers. When Miss Bingley was not admitted to Derwent House the next day, her panic-fueled fury exploded to such a degree that her own sister all but leapt from the carriage when they arrived back at the Hursts' home. Weary of Caroline's ranting, Mrs. Hurst took refuge in her husband's private sitting room--a space she had not ventured into in several years.

When the housekeeper came to speak to Mr. Hurst, she was surprised to find him chatting amiably with his wife. The couple shared a long look when the long-suffering servant informed them that Miss Bingley was currently in the drawing room smashing old Mrs. Hurst's collection of ornaments and that the parlor maid was bleeding from a particularly well-aimed figurine. Mrs. Donalds decided to delay tendering her resignation only when Mr. and Mrs. Hurst stood and prepared to deal with the bitter young woman together.

In truth, Miss Bingley had been met with no deception when she was turned away from Derwent House. Her brother had departed earlier to meet with his solicitor and Miss Darcy was practicing the pianoforte under the exacting tutelage of her music master. The gentleman foremost in Caroline's thoughts was not even in the house, although her nightmare of Mr. Darcy spending the day with a fiancé was incorrect in more ways than one.

William had devoted the morning to organizing details of the excursion to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, determined that it would be an unqualified success. A carriage with food, blankets, and picnic supplies was to be sent ahead while William and his guests would travel by water on one of the new paddle steamers that plied the Thames.

The servants rapidly caught on that their fidgety master desired to please Miss Bennet and her party. It was only when he began questioning the cook on her recipes that the housekeeper finally propelled him out of the kitchens.

"It shall all be just as you wish, sir. Perhaps you should check on Miss Darcy now? Luncheon shall be served in a half hour."

William could not help but chuckle when he found himself standing alone in the hallway, the green baize door shut firmly behind him. However, he took Mrs. Wilkins' advice and headed toward the sounds coming from the music room.

Determined not to spend the afternoon worrying over what Elizabeth thought of him, Darcy filled it running various errands about town. After stopping at his tailor's and choosing fabrics for several new waistcoats, he was disappointed to find that the sheet music for Rossini's latest opera had not yet been published; William had hoped to purchase it for his sister as a gesture apologizing for his recent behavior. He left the music shop with instructions to send the score to Pemberley when it arrived and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The air was remarkably clear for London, a brief morning rainstorm having washed everything clean. With a spring in his step, Darcy headed toward Hatchard's bookshop, tossing a copper to the urchin cleaning the street where he crossed.

William paused in front of a Bond Street jeweler, eyeing several lockets in the window and considering Bingley's suggestion that Georgiana might like a trinket of that sort. However, he was quite certain that if he entered he would be unable to resist buying something more substantial for Elizabeth, even though he knew it was unlikely he could present her with the gift for months, if ever. Somehow, such a purchase seemed too much like tempting the Fates, so Will gave a particularly lovely amethyst set a longing look but turned his steps back toward his favorite book store.

Mr. Hatchard himself was manning the counter and the venerable book dealer was familiar enough with Mr. Darcy to show his amusement over the variety of that gentleman's selections when he was finished browsing. Indeed, William himself was forced to chuckle when he looked over the odd array of titles.

Between a new edition of an older farming manual that Darcy often used as a reference (a gift for Bingley) and a recently published agricultural journal (he tried to keep up with new scientific advancements) was a three-volume novel by "a Lady" (gift for Georgiana) and a copy of Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Women.

Mr. Hatchard's eyebrows rose at the last and he glanced up at Mr. Darcy. The gentleman shrugged and smiled. "I am responsible for the education of my younger sister and someone I respect a great deal recommended that we read it."

The older man nodded decidedly. "Excellent advice, if I might say so, sir. Society has fairly pilloried her, especially after that husband of hers exposed all of the… err… unconventional aspects of her life in his Memoir. But she was no anarchist--whatever they say. I have a daughter myself and that book made me think differently about how to raise her. Sometimes Wollstonecraft's prose gets a bit overly dramatic, but I believe that the logic and fundamentals are solid."

Tucking away his money clip and watching as a clerk wrapped up the books, Darcy answered thoughtfully. "I must admit that I have long taken the gossip as fact and never bothered to actually read any of her essays, believing that they were little more than radical filth."

Mr. Hatchard smiled. "Ah, well. You are not alone. I wouldn't be surprised if the next generation discovers her work as though it were completely new, the stench of society's condemnation washed away by time. Happens again and again with literature through the ages. After all, isn't the vaunted Plato supposed to have buggered young Aristotle when the boy was one of his students?"

Seeing that he had thoroughly embarrassed his customer with his explicit talk, the elderly book dealer waved a hand as though dispelling a foul odor from the air. "Never mind, young man, never mind. I'm getting old and forgetting whether I'm addressing a respectable gentleman such as yourself or talking to one of those liberal philosophers that come by to rant now and then on their way to the Speaker's Corner." He winked and Darcy left the store with his books, unsure if Hatchard might not be one of those liberal-leaning philosophers himself.

That evening after supper, Darcy distributed his gifts and the three residents of Derwent House spent an amiable evening reading before the fire. Bingley found the farming manual and even Darcy's agricultural journal surprisingly fascinating and was soon making notes for himself. William was quietly pleased when Georgiana chose to begin her new novel, leaving him with Mrs. Wollstonecraft's book.

The further he read, the more interested he became. William had always considered himself a broad-minded man, but he was forced to admit that many of society's mores which he himself had always accepted were wholly illogical when considered more impartially.

William was so engrossed that it came as a surprise when the mantel clock struck ten. Charles smiled at the two Darcys and stood, gathering his book and papers together in a lopsided pile.

"This has been an excellent evening!" announced the younger man enthusiastically. "I have quite a list of questions to discuss with the steward when I return to Netherfield; I begin to understand why you so value your library, Darce. I'm sorry to break up our little reading party, but I believe I shall need a good night's sleep for our expedition tomorrow." He winked.

After bidding their guest a good night, brother and sister turned back to each other. Darcy nodded to the volume in her hand. "And how are you enjoying your new novel, Georgie?" He was pleased with the sunny smile that bloomed in her face.

"Oh Wills, it is wonderful! The characters feel like people I might know."

"Nothing like Mrs. Radcliffe, then?"

Georgiana rolled her eyes and they both laughed. Darcy tried to read most of the books his sister did so that they might discuss them. They generally agreed that, though the gothic romances were amusing to escape into now and then, the plots were often ridiculous and the characters quite unlikely outside of fiction.

When their laughter settled down, Georgie dared her own question. "What do you think of Mrs. Wollstonecraft's book? I had never heard of it before Miss Bennet mentioned that she was re-reading it."

Darcy coloured slightly and looked at the book in his hands. It was still hard for him to admit that even such an indirect recommendation from Elizabeth had him running out to purchase the volume.

"You have not heard about it because Mrs. Wollstonecraft's writing is considered quite unsuitable these days; her personal life was… unconventional, shall we say." Darcy adopted Hatchard's euphemism and hoped his little sister would not demand any further explanation for a decade or two.

"However, her essay is enlightening, to say the least." William turned the book and rubbed his thumb up the spine thoughtfully. "I had never truly considered how biased our legal system is against women; I am ashamed to admit that I believed it as necessary to protect females in our society."

Miss Darcy's eyebrows had risen to her hairline; she was still amazed at how much the acquaintance of Miss Bennet had changed her brother. "Will you allow me to read it?"

William turned the book over in his hands again so that he might read the title. Sheepish over his pause, he looked up at his sister and quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, although as your guardians, Richard and I shall probably live to regret it." He grinned at her. "And for Heaven's sake, don't speak of it to your Uncle Henry!"

Georgiana giggled and in short order, the siblings retired for the night with a warm feeling of camaraderie between them.

Darcy fell asleep quickly but woke well before dawn, his mind stewing with anxieties over the coming day. Unable to remain in bed, he pulled on a robe over his nightshirt and wandered into his private sitting room. He picked up and set down several books before finally slumping back in a comfortable armchair where he could look out of the window at the blue-black pre-dawn sky.

Even with Charles and Georgiana's assurances added to his own observations, William was still wholly uncertain of Elizabeth's opinion of him. Certainly she had smiled at him more in the last week than she ever had in their entire previous acquaintance, but his experience in Kent had left him thoroughly unsure of his ability to guess at her thoughts or feelings.

Will groaned and rubbed his eyes, but before he could come to any decisions there was a soft tapping at his dressing room door. He called to come, guessing correctly that it was his valet.

"Hawkins, I am sorry to have disturbed you. I woke early and couldn't fall asleep again."

His man knit his brows for a moment. Few gentlemen would make such an apology; most would consider it the servant's duty to know his master's needs before he did himself. Mr. Darcy had always been a generous employer, but in the last month he had become a more liberal one as well.

"Not at all, sir. Shall I fetch you some tea?"

"That would be excellent, thank you." Mr. Darcy pursed his lips and then gave his valet a look like a mischievous schoolboy. "Would you also check on the preparations for our outing today? Without making Mrs. Wilkins or Davies think that I'm peeping over their shoulders again?"

Hawkins couldn't quite quell his own answering grin. The cook had grumbled excessively the previous evening over the Master's 'nerves' nearly ruining her meal. "Of course, sir."

In short order, William was drinking his tea and nibbling on a pastry. He cracked the window and was relieved to see that there was no hint of rain clouds in the dawn sky. Listening to the sounds of London awakening, William returned to his earlier quandary.

He had no doubts that he loved Elizabeth with all his heart and soul. However, he had to admit that he had seen new dimensions of her to love during their recent meetings in London.

Bingley's explanation came back to him. "I think her words were 'the man I thought I knew turns out to have been a figment of my imagination…'" And with that memory came William's solution. If he wished to further his relationship with Elizabeth, then he needed to allow her to know him. He had to trust her; to drop his mask and allow her past his defenses. And that meant talking with her; he must not again make the mistake of assuming that she could intuit his thoughts and character from the blank face he habitually presented to society.

Even as he was forming his new resolution, there came a new tapping from the hall door. With a smile, Darcy invited his sister in to his sitting room and sent for a fresh pot of tea. He had a favor to ask.

Oddly enough, a similar conversation had taken place the previous evening at the Gardiner's residence. Sitting with her aunt and uncle after the children had been put to bed, Elizabeth did her best to summarize her history with Mr. Darcy as delicately as possible. Though she left out the actuality of a proposal, the Gardiners were given to know that the gentleman had professed an affection with honorable intentions but the lady had refused him based on misconceptions. She also told them of how her father was in possession of all the details and had encouraged her to reassess the man, should the opportunity arise.

The Gardiners were not tremendously surprised by the story; Mr. Darcy obviously knew what it was to love and their niece seemed open to knowing him better.

In short order it was agreed that, as long as the young couple did not venture out of sight or do anything improper, the Gardiners would allow them a certain amount of privacy to talk while the party explored the gardens.

Elizabeth settled into her bed with a great feeling of satisfaction. Tomorrow, she would have the opportunity to work on the puzzle that was Fitzwilliam Darcy and she was determined to make sense of him, however much questioning, teasing, or arguing it took. She fell asleep thinking that, if all else failed, she might bribe the Gardiner children to push Darcy into the duck pond. Surely no man could maintain his stoic demeanor while dripping wet and covered with slimy green algae.

Miss Bennet need not have worried. The next morning, Mr. Darcy arrived determined to please and be pleased. By the time they had all boarded the paddle steamer, Elizabeth was certain that she had never seen the gentleman more eager to interact with his companions.

Darcy himself was impressed with the prompt service that his party received on the small vessel. It was not until they had pushed off and were chugging steadily up the Thames that he heard one of the ship's officers addressing Mr. Gardiner by name. He soon came to understand that Elizabeth's uncle owned a share in one of the companies that ran steam ship excursion trips up and down the river.

Mr. Gardiner grinned and bowed slightly with a twinkle in his eye. "You have excellent taste in transportation, sir."

Darcy admitted that he had asked around and chosen the line with the best safety record and soon the pair were involved in a good-natured discussion on the potential of steam-powered ships and the need to regulate traffic along the river. It was so fascinating that neither noticed the passage of time until Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Darcy joined them.

Suddenly recalling himself, William looked about to check on the whereabouts of his party. "I apologize, Mrs. Gardiner, Georgiana. I have been so involved in our conversation that I forgot to check on your comfort."

He was pleased to see Georgie share a warm smile with Elizabeth's aunt. Madeleine spoke gently, "It is no matter, Mr. Darcy. Your uncle has been entertaining us all."

Darcy turned and was amused to see his Uncle James, attired in his informal 'rambling suit,' pointing out birds to the children, Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley at his side.

Mr. Gardiner chuckled. "Between Lizzy's knowledge of botany and Sir James' mastery of ornithology, we shall not need a guide!"

His wife laughingly disagreed. "Oh no, Edward. Elizabeth was telling me just this morning that she heard that the curator at Kew Gardens may be setting up a seed exchange, just as the Chelsea Physic Garden does. She has every hope of procuring some mysterious new plants for Longbourn's gardens."

Seeing that the Darcys were intrigued but slightly confused, Madeleine explained. "Mrs. Bennet and her daughters have always been very involved in planning the estate's gardens."

The Gardiners told the history together, with the ease of a happily married couple.

"When Fanny and Thomas married, Longbourn had been without a real mistress for nearly twenty years. Elizabeth's grandfather had kept the yard trimmed, but it was nothing very… attractive."

"Fanny spent her first year as a married woman redecorating the house. When she was finished with that, she needed a new outlet for all that energy so she turned her focus on the gardens."

Madeleine smiled fondly. "She spent the winter of her first confinement reading gardening magazines and planning. Fanny once told me that, with the maiden name of Gardiner, it would have been an embarrassment if they were anything but beautiful!"

"Are you speaking of Mama and her gardens?" Darcy turned and was delighted to see that a smiling Elizabeth had joined them and was standing at his elbow. "One of my earliest memories of my mother is of her trying to teach me to recognize the difference between spring clover and sweet pea seedlings."

Mr. Gardiner grinned. "I believe Jane was six and you were four when Fanny decided that each child would have your own bit of Earth to plant as you wished."

His niece rolled her eyes impishly. "Yes, I'm afraid that was just after I had pulled up all of her lupines, thinking that they were weeds…"

The group laughed with her.

Determined to follow his resolution to speak more, Darcy inquired. "I don't believe I saw more than the front yard at Longbourn. Are each of the gardens as unique as the Bennet sisters?"

Elizabeth smiled with obvious pleasure in the topic. "You visited Hertfordshire so late in the fall that there was not much left to see, I'm afraid." She sighed, her eyes looking out across the water. "And April was so wet this spring that we weren't able to do much more than plan."

Edward Gardiner put one arm around his niece, hugging her shoulders slightly. "Ah, my poor girl. We do appreciate you giving up your 'planting season' to stay with us in the big, ugly city." Everyone laughed at his turn of phrase.

Elizabeth grinned up at her uncle. "Well, it shan't be a complete loss, thanks to Mr. Darcy's invitation!"

At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were distracted by the approach of their children with Sir James Darcy. When the others turned away, Darcy was pleased to see Elizabeth remain at his side.

He spoke softly. "You did not answer my question about the differences among your sisters' gardens."

She glanced up at him and then turned to lean against the railing, looking out across the water. "I had not thought about it in quite that way before, but you are right. Jane's garden has several very proper rose bushes, delphinium, lilies, and such… all very neat and well-behaved. Mary tends to be a bit more practical; she began working on a knot garden of herbs the other year.

"You might be surprised, but Kitty actually has a lovely sense of landscaping… what to plant where so that the flower colours and bloom times create beautiful combinations throughout the spring and summer. Unfortunately, these past few years she has been spending far more time with Lydia than in the garden."

Elizabeth sighed. "My youngest sister spends a day or two in the spring rushing around fussing, planting, and transplanting, but she never bothers to care for it. Her border would be nothing but a weed patch if Jane and I did not look after it."

Elizabeth's thoughts flickered back to Longbourn as she wondered briefly if her father had continued his efforts to improve his daughters' behavior.

Though he very much wished to ask her about her own garden and tell her of Pemberley's, Will saw that her mind had drifted to something more serious. Guessing, he asked, "Have you heard from Longbourn recently? Is everyone well?"

"I received a letter from Jane yesterday." Elizabeth shot a smile at him. "I would not say that they are all perfectly well, but they are certainly all healthy." Remembering that she wanted to speak to Mr. Darcy about his letter and her father's awareness of it, she sighed and turned to him.

"Mr. Darcy, I wished to speak to you about…"

Elizabeth was interrupted by the shriek of the ship's steam whistle. Both turned to look toward the bow and were surprised to see that the crew was already readying the lines as they maneuvered into the dock at Kew.

William dearly wished to know what she wanted to say to him, but clearly there was no time. "Miss Bennet, I should very much like to continue this conversation, but I fear we must prepare to disembark. Perhaps later?" He caught her eye, hoping that she would understand.

With a pleased smile, Elizabeth agreed and they both turned to check on their party.

Mr. Gardiner had lifted five-year old Ernest to his shoulders and was trying to convince the boy to stop grabbing his father's ears as handles, much to Miss Darcy's amusement. Jonathan (twelve) and Rebecca (ten) were following Sir James like a pair of ducklings, clearly enthralled by the older man's stories. Tommy was clinging tightly to his mother's hand while observing the activity with all the serious concentration that an eight-year-old could manage.

"Amelia?" Darcy was about to offer Miss Bennet his arm when he noticed that her attention had been distracted by a little girl with curly brown hair who had latched onto her cousin's skirt. He smiled when blue eyes peaked around at him.

"Lizzy, he is very tall." Amelia whispered.

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Amelia, you remember Mr. Darcy, do you not?"

The little girl nodded but remained silent, still peering up at the tall gentleman.

Darcy grinned and knelt down on one knee. London Society's ladies might terrorize him, but he was fully comfortable with six-year-old females. "Should you like to ride on my shoulders like your brother, Miss Amelia?"

The offer gained him a brilliant smile. "I would be taller than Jonathan!" She darted out from behind Lizzy's skirts and had just taken Darcy's hand when the deck shuddered beneath their feet.

Holding tightly to the little girl and reaching out a hand to steady Miss Bennet, William looked around to see what had happened.

Noting her new friend's anxiety, Amelia patted his arm. "It's alright, Mr. Darcy. We've just pulled into the dock. It goes bump sometimes."

William stood and noted that she was quite correct. Turning his attention back to the little girl, he smiled. "Quite right, Miss Amelia. It is a great comfort to have an experienced sailor such as yourself to sooth my fears."

She nodded calmly. "I was scared the first time Papa took me on a steam boat." Seeing that the others were heading toward the ramp, she reached up to take her cousin's hand while still holding on to Mr. Darcy's.

"Let's just walk now. You may carry me when we're on the ground… it's not as tippy there."

William and Elizabeth shared a grin and then followed the rest of their party.

Will's sister caught sight of the trio descending the gangplank, the two adults swinging Amelia forward between them. Georgie smiled wistfully, easily imaging what the couple would be like as husband and wife with children of their own.

This pleasant exchange set the tone for the day. The weather could not have been lovelier; a warm, sunny, spring day with a clear blue sky and a hint of breeze. The open carriages that Darcy had arranged were waiting at the docks for them and in short order the party was descending to meet their guide at the front gate of the Royal Botanic Gardens.

Darcy's servants served coffee, fruit, and muffins and soon the group was ready to begin their walking tour. The guide was a rather odd young man named John Smith, whose innocuous name and quiet manners belied a great knowledge of plants from around the world and the history of those planted at the Kew Gardens in particular.

Mr. Smith and Sir James were rapidly assured of their mutual expertise and passion for natural history. Soon the party was being led about by the two men, closely trailed by young Jonathan Gardiner who appeared to have caught their enthusiasm for botanizing.

Darcy was pleased to see Charles deep in conversation with Mr. Gardiner, the pair paying little attention to their surroundings. Knowing something of the similarities in their backgrounds, he had every hope that Elizabeth's uncle might serve as a superb mentor for the younger man.

Finding Elizabeth trailing behind the group, he offered his arm and nodded genially toward his sister. The normally shy Miss Darcy was chattering away with Mrs. Gardiner, surrounded by the younger Gardiner children who appeared to have cheerfully adopted her as a playmate.

"I have not seen her so happy since our father died, and perhaps not even then."

Elizabeth smiled easily. "My aunt and uncle have that affect on people."

"I am very pleased to have made their acquaintance. They are truly excellent people."

Elizabeth glanced up at him and he caught her eye. She nodded, accepting the implicit apology for his past attitudes. "Jane and I have always treasured our time with them. I miss Longbourn, but the house on Gracechurch Street is so much more..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Sensible? That does not quite encompass it."

Darcy was already nodding. "They understand you; they share your intellect and character. And it is easy to see that they have an excellent relationship."

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "After seeing the contrast to our own parents, Jane and I promised each other that we would only marry for the deepest love." Suddenly realizing with whom she was speaking, Miss Bennet blushed a rosy pink and tucked her chin.

Feeling the tension but recognizing that it provided him with the opportunity he sought, William cleared his throat. "I wish more of our society shared your resolution. It is what I hope for my own sister…" He hesitated. "And for myself."

There was a pregnant pause as both thought desperately of what to say. Even the sound of their steps on the gravel path sounded incredibly loud.

"Miss Bennet…"

"Mr. Darcy…"

Both spoke at once, but William motioned for Elizabeth to go first.

"I only wished to apologize for how I spoke to you… in Kent. Your letter…"

"Please, Miss Bennet, do not make yourself uneasy…"

"But the things that I accused you of!"

"What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behavior at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence."

Elizabeth had come to a halt and turned to him, looking into his eyes with absolute seriousness. "As was my own behavior toward you."

Without a thought, Darcy took her hands in his own. "You have nothing to apologize for. I drove you to anger…"

Elizabeth pursed her lips and paused before rolling her eyes and turning, taking Mr. Darcy's arm and tugging on it so that they continued to walk together. "Mr. Darcy, we should not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening. The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility."

"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been for the last month, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me."

"I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such a way."

"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper feeling. I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible way, that would induce you to accept me."

"Oh! Do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at all. I assure you, that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it."

Darcy mentioned his letter. "Did it," said he, "did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?"

She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually her former prejudices had been removed. "I soon believed your account of Mr. Wickham, for I knew you to be a devoted brother and one who would never tell such a story if it were not of the utmost importance."

Darcy paused. "I hope that the truth did not hurt you too deeply."

Elizabeth smiled sardonically. "There was no great affection on either side, I think. He flattered my vanity; I thought myself very clever to have taken such an instant dislike of you, and then to have it proven so completely was… heartening."

She waved a hand as though brushing away an irritating insect. "Soon after your party left Hertfordshire, Mr. Wickham transferred his attentions to a young lady whose primary virtue seemed to be that she had recently inherited ten-thousand pounds."

Seeing that Darcy looked instantly wary, Elizabeth rushed to reassure him. "Miss King is quite safe from him; not long before I returned from Kent, her uncle removed her to Liverpool."

Darcy nodded but remained silent for a few minutes, his mind having returned to his resolution to ensure that Wickham could no longer prey on any young ladies. Upon their return from Rosings, Colonel Fitzwilliam had agreed to quietly gather information on Lieutenant Wickham. However, Richard was currently on an errand for his general in Newcastle and William had not heard from him.

As Darcy considered what to do about his boyhood playmate, Elizabeth's thoughts had returned to his letter and she remembered another resolution that she needed to keep.

"Mr. Darcy, there is another matter for which I must apologize. It concerns your letter, sir."

The mention of that epistle was enough to immediately engage William's whole attention, and he spent several minutes protesting again that she had nothing to apologize for.

Finally Elizabeth stopped and turned to him. "Please, Mr. Darcy. This is not easy for me, but you must allow me to speak." Seeing that the man looked somewhat startled, she smiled and lightened her tone. "Meryton society would be quite astonished to see us now; the ever-chatty Lizzy Bennet unable to get a word in edgewise with the silent, serious gentleman from Derbyshire."

Her smile diminished when she saw that her companion was embarrassed. "Please forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I forget that you are not accustomed to my teasing…"

However, Elizabeth's awkwardness dissolved when she caught a mischievous glint in the gentleman's eye. "So, am I to understand that you wish me to talk more while dancing, but less when walking? I confess I am unclear on the protocols, Miss Bennet. Perhaps I require lessons, or is there an instruction manual?"

Both laughed at the reference to her spirited reprimand during their dance at the Netherfield Ball. The couple turned to continue their walk in a pleasant mood, though Elizabeth was determined that he would know of the effect his letter had had not only upon her, but on her father as well.

The information was relayed in segments, interrupted by a pause to admire the Chinese pagoda that had been built on the grounds in 1762. When Elizabeth was finished, she waited anxiously for Mr. Darcy's response but was relieved to see that he looked thoughtful rather than angry.

When William realized that she was finished, he smiled wanly. "Please, do not make yourself uneasy, Miss Bennet. You have just solved two problems created by my previous behavior that I had recognized but not yet conceived of how to mend."

Elizabeth shot him a confused look and he shrugged helplessly. "First, I should not have left Hertfordshire without alerting the neighborhood of Wickham's true nature. I have been paying his debts and generally cleaning up after him for years; I knew what sort of messes he would leave in his wake and should have acted to prevent them."

"Mr. Darcy, he is not your responsibility…"

"I must beg to disagree, Miss Bennet. If I see a group of people walking on ice that I know to be too thin to hold their weight, then it is my responsibility to warn them."

Elizabeth tilted her head to one side, forced to admit that his logic was sound. "Very well, I will agree to that. However, whatever your past acquaintance, Wickham's misdeeds are his alone; you are not responsible for his wickedness. Just as I may attempt to curb my youngest sister's behavior but in the end, her mistakes are her own."

Darcy conceded her point and they walked in silence for several minutes before he recalled the other item he wished to discuss.

"Though I fear it shall not improve his opinion of me, I am glad that Mr. Bennet has seen my letter and heard the details of our… interactions… from you. Not long after I placed that letter in your hands, I realized how hideously improper my actions had been. Had someone approached Georgiana in such a way, I would have been furious."

Oddly pleased by his admission, Elizabeth only nodded. "For once, I must be appreciative of my father's permissiveness toward his daughters." She glanced up at the gentleman beside her and spoke quietly. "For I very much needed to hear what you wrote but I am afraid that, at the time, I was not in the mood to give credence to any speech of yours."

Darcy heaved a sigh, for the impropriety of his actions had been weighing on him as much as her angry accusation that he had acted less than a gentleman during his poorly conceived proposal.

The couple walked silently for some minutes. Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same.

However, before either of them could act upon their resolve, the sound of running feet and joyful calls alerted them to the approach of the Gardiner children.

"Lizzy!"

"Come quickly!"

"There is such a wonderful luncheon set out for us, but Mama won't allow us to eat until you and Mr. Darcy catch up!

"Please hurry--there are apple tarts and cakes and ever so many good things!"

This last was said in a rush by Tommy who, though an otherwise serious, bookish little boy, was well-known in his family circle for his sweet tooth. Luckily, in this he was joined by his cousin.

Elizabeth smiled. "Apple tarts? Had I known that such delicacies awaited us, I would have been first in line!"

With happy laughter and a bit of playful teasing, the children led the wayward couple to the picnic site where Mr. Darcy's servants had set things out.

While most men of his station would have demanded a full compliment of liveried servants serving courses on a table with silver and china, not unlike what might be found in his own dining room (the only difference being the tented walls), Darcy preferred a much more informal version and had planned only a slightly enhanced form of the picnics he and his cousins had enjoyed in their boyhood.

For a moment, Will worried that the informality might have been a mistake, but he was quickly reassured as all of his guests happily settled themselves on the blankets and were soon passing around the food prepared by his cook. Georgiana was more comfortable than he had ever seen her in company, easily recommending various dishes and directing the servants.

After eating his fill, William leaned back on his elbows, legs crossed at the ankles, and allowed himself to relax in silence and simply enjoy the moment. Their guide had been encouraged to join them and, once reassured of the friendliness of the group, Mr. Smith was found to be a superb source of amusing stories. As a lad, the young man had been employed as a stove boy and he had a wealth of tales that he had observed while stoking the heaters that warmed the glass houses, in addition to the plant collecting trips he had assisted on.

After several minutes, Darcy's attention was caught by the conversation between Mrs. Gardiner and Mr. Smith. It seemed that John Smith had a particular love of ferns and was eagerly instructing Mrs. Gardiner and her niece for an upcoming holiday trip.

William waited until a suitable pause in their conversation. "Mrs. Gardiner, do I understand correctly that you and your family shall be travelling to the northern counties soon?"

Madeleine Gardiner smiled at the young man. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Darcy. In fact, we had planned to depart a week ago, but a family matter caused a delay."

Listening to his wife, Mr. Gardiner added. "We had originally planned to visit the Lake District, but I am afraid that my business requires me to return by the end of July so we shall have to cut our tour a bit short."

Darcy seemed thoughtful. "That is unfortunate; it has been some years since I have been there but the landscape is beautiful."

Elizabeth's aunt smiled. "Yes, Elizabeth is too polite to let us know how disappointed she truly is to miss it, I think."

Miss Bennet's attention was drawn away from young Amelia. "Oh, Aunt. I shall not say that I do not hope to see that area some day, but I shall be very happy to spend time exploring the Peaks." She could not help but glance shyly toward Darcy. "I hear that landscape is quite spectacular, as well."

Darcy looked as though he was about to speak, but after a brief look at Elizabeth, he remained silent. The party continued to chat about the beauties of northern England until it became clear that all were finished with their meal. As the servants began to pack up the detritus from the picnic, William offered his arm to Elizabeth and the pair strolled slowly in the direction of the rose gardens.

Elizabeth's curiosity had been piqued by Mr. Darcy's thoughtful silence during the latter part of the meal, so she remained quiet for some minutes. However, after some ten minutes with no word from the gentleman, she was reminded of her resolution to question, tease, or otherwise argue the man into talking with her.

With a sparkle of amusement in her eye, Miss Bennet made some slight observation on the roses. William replied appropriately but clearly his mind was far away. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time.

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the roses; now you ought to make some remark on the size of the gardens, or the number of plants."

He smiled, and she was pleased to see that he recalled the details of their conversation from the Netherfield Ball as clearly as she. "Miss Bennet, I might ask if you talk by rule while you are walking, but I fear that should we continue the conversation, it might lead to words I would wish unsaid."

Elizabeth was suddenly reminded of the poorly conceived admonishment she had delivered to him on his treatment of Wickham at the end of the dance. She blushed and was about to apologize when William took her hand and squeezed lightly.

"Please, I did not bring it up to make you uneasy. As you said earlier, we should not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening, either."

Elizabeth looked carefully into his eyes and was reassured by what she saw there. After a pause, Darcy attempted a lighter tone. "As much as I would like to tempt you into a discussion of books, there is another matter…" He trailed off for a moment before gathering himself again to speak, this time in a voice roughened by strong emotions under tight control.

"Miss Bennet, we have spoken of the errors that we both made in our prior acquaintance, and most particularly on that evening when I addressed you in the parsonage. I… I value your forthrightness for, though your words pained me at the time, they also taught be to be a better man, I hope.

"I have hope that your opinion of me has improved, but I do not trust my ability to interpret your thoughts any longer, so I shall be frank; if your feelings are still what they were in April, please tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.

"When Mrs. Gardiner mentioned that you would be traveling to the Peak district, I was instantly resolved to invite your party to stay as my guests at Pemberley. However, I… I realized that I do not know enough of your… feelings… to know if such an invitation would please you…. Or if it would place you in an… awkward… position."

It took Elizabeth several moments to gather her wits about her after such a speech and the pause left William feeling even more discomposed. He began talking again before she could frame a response.

"I perfectly understand if you do not wish to extend our acquaintance… you have been very kind to tolerate me for the last fortnight and I am deeply grateful that my sister has had the honor to meet you…"

Vaguely amused to hear the normally stoic Mr. Darcy so close to babbling, Elizabeth stopped and turned to face him. William fell silent when she took his larger hands in her own.

"Mr. Darcy, please." She paused and shut her eyes tightly for a moment, attempting to align her thoughts cogently. However, the only thing she could think of was how right it felt to have her hands held in his. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Mr. Darcy, my feelings are quite different from what they were last spring, and I should very much like to further our… acquaintance. I... I believe that my aunt and uncle would be honored by an invitation to visit Pemberley." She was rewarded by a look of heartfelt happiness on the gentleman's face.

William quelled his first impulse to pick Elizabeth up and twirl her around before kissing her senseless; it was too soon for her, as was any explicit discussion of love or marriage. He was not so timid, however, as to resist pressing his luck a bit further.

"Thank you. I shall speak with the Gardiners immediately." He took a deep breath and asked softly. "Would you allow me, or do I ask too much, the honor of courting you?" He caught sight of a deep blush flooding the lady's face just before she tucked her chin and seemed to study their joined hands.

Just then, the sound of running feet alerted them to the approach of three of the older Gardiner children. "Lizzy! Mama says that you must catch up!"

"You must come see the prettiest pink rose in bloom; Mr. Smith says it is called a Fairy Rose!"

Elizabeth stepped back and freed one hand to ruffle Tommy's hair, but Darcy was keenly aware that she allowed him to retain the other in his grasp. Smiling, she spoke to them all.

"Yes, the answer to all of you is yes! Jonathan, please lead off--I must say I have become quite turned around and have no idea where we must go." She turned to Mr. Darcy and tugged him to walk with her. Smiling brilliantly up at him, she repeated. "And yes to you as well, sir."

William allowed her to pull him into following the children. Before he allowed his happiness to overcome him, he had to make certain. "Shall I speak with your uncle, then? And your father?"

Elizabeth's dear face was a mixture of happiness and embarrassment. "Yes, sir. Both. Though I would like to reserve the duty of speaking to my mother for myself."

"Whatever you wish." Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows into mirth, but it was immediately apparent to the Gardiners that the couple that joined them in the rose garden had reached some new understanding and were both well-pleased.

After a soft word, William broke away from Elizabeth to speak quietly with his sister. In short order, the siblings had proffered an invitation for the Gardiners' party to stay at Pemberley for an extended visit. Darcy was not above using the temptation of seeing her childhood haunts and possibly recovering some of her family's mementos to bring Mrs. Gardiner to his side.

In reality, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were very pleased by the invitation and any initial reservations were washed away by their niece's obvious approval of Pemberley's master.

Before the party had reached the carriages, packed and readied to return to London, plans had been made. Only Mr. Bingley refused the invitation, insisting that he was needed at Netherfield and would be remaining there for much of the summer. A quick look to Jane's sister assured him that he was making the correct decision.

The next few days passed quickly. William spoke with Mr. Gardiner and it was agreed that the young man could call upon Elizabeth at Gracechurch Street, although the courtship would not be considered official until he had secured Mr. Bennet's permission.

As soon as he had conceived of the idea of inviting the Gardiners and Miss Bennet to stay at Pemberley, Darcy had written to Mrs. Reynolds with instructions to prepare the house for very special visitors. Included in these had been a request that she check the storage rooms for anything from the vicarage that had been packed away after the death of the previous rector. He admitted to himself that he hoped such actions would aid in his quest to make Elizabeth think better of him, but he also understood how important such artifacts would be to her aunt.

William had lost both father and mother, but at least he still had the house in which he had grown up and all of its contents to remind him of his parents, in addition to a sister who reminded him of his mother more each day. He could not imagine the sorrow of having no such mementos of one's family and was determined to discover them for Mrs. Gardiner, if any remained to be found.

Mrs. Reynolds had known him since he was four-years-old and had served as housekeeper at Pemberley since he was ten. In some ways, the woman was more like a relative than a servant, having looked after him and his sister since the loss of their own mother and even more so since the death of their father. Will occasionally joked that she was more magician than housekeeper, for nothing ever seemed outside her knowledge or beyond her power.

Unfortunately, the return mail from Derbyshire brought him unwanted evidence that even the venerable Mrs. Reynolds was not wholly omniscient. Pemberley's housekeeper wrote that she had not recovered any boxes labeled "Churchill" in any of the attics or storerooms. Darcy had been embarrassed to realize that he could only recall referring to the rector and his wife as "Reverend Jonathan" and "Mrs. Rebecca." He thought that their surname might have been something like "Burns" or "Bergram" but could not be certain, so he had written Mrs. Reynolds with an honest summary of his knowledge and trusted her to discover the facts.

William sighed and admitted to himself that he would simply have to inquire with Mrs. Gardiner as to her maiden name. He was not concerned that his ignorance would offend the kind woman; it was simply that he was disappointed not to be able to surprise Elizabeth's aunt with a fait accompli.

Darcy was provided with an opportunity to question Mrs. Gardiner on the following evening when he and his sister dined at Gracechurch Street. Much of the dinner conversation revolved around the group's travel plans; the two Darcys would travel to Hertfordshire with Elizabeth and the Gardiners, where William would talk to Mr. Bennet and request that gentleman's permission to court his daughter.

While the Gardiners would remain at Longbourn for several days, Darcy would depart for Derbyshire as soon as his errand in Mr. Bennet's study was accomplished. He wished to complete as much business with his steward as possible before Elizabeth arrived so that he might spend as much time as possible showing her around Pemberley. Georgiana was bubbling with excitement; her brother had agreed that she might remain at Longbourn after he departed and travel north with the Gardiners and Miss Bennet.

The Gardiners laughingly warned Miss Darcy that she would share in the responsibility for entertaining the five Gardiner children during the trip, but she only acquiesced happily and began tallying the various puzzles and toys that she would bring. Over the years, her brother had given her any number of compact games to keep her entertained during the long coach ride from Derbyshire to London and she was determined that the Gardiner children would never be bored.

Darcy was reminded of the question he must ask Elizabeth's aunt and took the opportunity to speak. "Mrs. Gardiner; I wished to have our housekeeper at Pemberley check the attics for any of your family's things that might have stored there."

Mrs. Gardiner nodded, her bright eyes clearly intrigued by the idea of reclaiming some physical mementos of her family.

William's face showed his distress. "Mrs. Reynolds has been unable to find anything labeled 'Churchill,' which I remember was your mother's maiden name."

Mrs. Gardiner nodded again but seemed slightly more reserved, as though dreading some question. Unsure what might cause such a reaction, Darcy continued.

"I am ashamed to admit that I cannot recall your maiden name precisely. I always called your parents 'Reverend Jonathan' and 'Mrs. Rebecca.'"

Mrs. Gardiner smiled softly at the serious young man. "Mr. Darcy, you have no reason to be ashamed; you were but ten-years-old when my parents passed and I left to live in London."

The lady lapsed into silence, studying the wedding band on her left hand. Finally her husband chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him. "Come along, my dear Madeleine. Tell him, or I shall be forced to do so. I do not believe that Lizzy has heard the story either, for that matter."

Mrs. Gardiner gave her husband a long look before rolling her eyes and turning to the other occupants of the room. Miss Darcy sat with the Gardiner's calico nestled in her lap, purring contentedly. Mr. Darcy and Lizzy were seated comfortably, side-by-side on the settee, and all three were clearly intrigued by her reluctance.

Madeleine Gardiner sighed. "Mr. Darcy, my parents avoided using my father's surname because they broke all relations with his family when I was a little girl, just before we moved to Derbyshire, actually." She sighed again before continuing.

"My father was born Jonathan de Bourgh, the youngest son of Lord Maxwell de Bourgh and brother to your aunt's late husband."

Chapter 15. Broken Connections.

Posted on 2010-08-19

Jonathan de Bourgh recognized early that his calling was the church. Although upon his birth in 1751, his father had decreed that the fourth son would enter into the military upon reaching his majority, Jonathan's status as youngest of six children, combined with excellent marks at Oxford, made it relatively easy to continue quietly on his chosen course.

One evening at a family supper, during a pause in an intense discussion over the ranking of marital prospects for his two elder sisters, he quietly announced that he had been offered the position of curate at the parish of St. Mary-le-Bow near Cheapside.

His sisters looked at him oddly and then returned to their discussion over the relative merits of title and income, and how much the attractive visage of a particular suitor should be weighed. Taught their values by a superficial mother determined to advance her own social status through the marriages of her children, and having lived their lives in the same house as a father with little respect for women, their considerations of marriage did not bother with concepts such as love or respect for a partner.

The men at the table paid more attention to Jonathan's statement. The family attended church as a matter of course and without question, if with little devotion. Lord Maxwell went because the de Bourghs had always gone. Not making a regular appearance in the family pew in their fashionable London church would have made as little sense to him as not collecting the rents due him from the tenants who farmed his estates.

The deference he received upon his arrival and departure he accepted as his due, and no moral conflict occurred to him that he spent much of the time during the sermon considering weighty concerns such as whether the demands of his current mistress for increasingly expensive baubles were worth her considerable favors, or if it was time to discard her for a younger and less expensive but more tractable girl.

His eldest sons attended with similar regularity, if even less attention. They typically returned to their father's house in the wee hours of the morning after a night of gambling, drinking, and debauchery with just enough time for their valets to redress them in appropriate attire, apply cologne to mask inappropriate odors, and ply them with enough coffee to make it through the service. Their thoughts during the sermon, when they exerted themselves to have them, were primarily focused on totting up their wins and losses at the card tables from the night before.

"You've been offered what?!?" Lord Maxwell huffed. "You're going into the army like James. Or maybe the navy… When are you going to be done at university, boy? We'll need to see about getting you a commission, I suppose. Damn fool things are getting more expensive by the year. Can't have a de Bourgh any lower than a lieutenant, though, so have to see about freeing up the ready."

Jonathan's eldest brothers traded a long look--anything that might deplete their future inheritance was of great import. "Which church was that?" asked Lewis. As the second son, he was particularly interested in minimizing the funds his father spent on his younger brothers as it directly impacted his own future finances. He guessed correctly that his father's approach to "freeing up the ready" would be to sell off a living at Rosings Park, a family estate in Kent designated for the second son.

"St. Mary's," replied Jonathan. "Reverend Annesley has been raised to bishop. He asked my divinity professor if there were any promising students who could be prepared to take on the day-to-day affairs at his current parish by September. Professor Fenton suggested me and Reverend Somersby supported the recommendation."

"Somersby! What does Reverend Somersby know about it?!" Queried his father in a mild roar. His only interaction with the personnel at the family's church was a nod as he departed each Sunday, or possibly a "Good day" if the service had been particularly brief. It had never occurred to him that any of his sons might purposely expand their relationship with a cleric beyond that necessary to maintain good standing in London Society.

"Annesley did you say?" Asked Lady Harriet, her attention caught by the name. "Excellent family, if a little dull. The wife was a Pettigrew, you know." The de Bourgh sisters nodded sagely. Edna was twenty-three, with a dowry of thirty-thousand pounds and an unfortunate nose. Edith was two years younger, with a similar dowry, a more fortunate nose, and was currently enjoying the increasingly serious attentions of the elder son of the Earl of Parsley.

Their mother continued, "Juliette Pettigrew was quite popular when she was introduced in Society. I remember we were all surprised when she accepted Paul Annesley. I mean, the family was certainly good enough, but none of us could ever understand half of what he was saying. And he didn't like to dance, of all things." The sisters frowned in unison.

"Humph. I remember Annesley at Eton. Dull, bookish chap. Not interested in sport, or cards for that matter. Always had his nose in a book. Tutors loved him." Lord Maxwell didn't resent those men with a more intellectual bent than himself, he simply couldn't comprehend them and thus they weren't worth bothering over. He himself had spent his time at school, and later university, with a mob of like-minded lordlings and wealthy gentlemen, playing cricket and tennis during the day and gambling and drinking in the local pubs at night.

As long as no great offences were caught and the tuition was paid, a "gentleman's pass " was gained and friends and connections made for life as the young men sowed the expected oats. Such it had been for his father, and such had he expected of his own sons. The concept that one of his sons might wish to have more to do with the church than attend caused him to squint oddly at Jonathan, rather as though the young man had sat down to supper wearing one of his sister's belaced and beflowered bonnets.

"Since graduating in May, I have been assisting Mr. Somersby with some parish matters." Jonathan knew better than to include the details that he had been in fact drafting sermons for the aging Reverend and covering for him at various meetings with other clerics to coordinate charities for the poor. His father's eyebrows had already drawn together to resemble a single, very prickly grey caterpillar moving across his brow. "Father, I would very much like to accept the position. It is respectable, and I would much prefer it to the navy."

In fact, Jonathan had spent enough time listening to the stories of the old soldiers and sailors at the free medical clinic where he ministered to know that he was not meant for the military. He saw no good in the deaths and maiming of hundreds of young men on the battlefields of America or the seas off France.

"Humph. A churchman, eh. Never really considered such an idea. Respectable enough though, as you say. Cheaper than a commission, too." Jonathan's brothers again glanced at each other as their father motioned to a footman to refill his wine glass, but said nothing themselves. "Well boy, if you'd rather a cleric's collar than a red coat, I suppose I can speak with Annesley and Somersby and consider the matter."

Jonathan and his brothers understood this to mean that their father would discuss the matter with his friends at the club (many the same men he had been at school with) and then, if no significant financial or social detractions were raised, Jonathan's course of life would be approved, if not understood. The elder brothers let their breath out quietly and nodded in support of the decision. They were pleased, if not for the same reasons as Jonathan.

A week later, it was done. Lord Maxwell was pleased to have disposed of his youngest son with no financial expenditure and minimal effort on his part. Lady Harriet spent a minute considering if Jonathan's position could be used to gain any societal connections, but forgot the matter when rose water was dripped on the bodice of the gown Edith had been to wear to an afternoon garden party, rendering it unwearable and prompting a flurry of redressing.

Jonathan's eldest brother George congratulated Lewis on the continued health of their inheritance before the two left for a bare-knuckle boxing match organized in a particularly seedy section of Seven Dials. James, the third son, was in Brighton training with his regiment and didn't hear the news for several months. In all, the reassignment of Jonathan's life from war to God was accomplished with barely a ripple in the family dynamics. Jonathan was pleased.

Jonathan de Bourgh had inherited eight thousand pounds from a maiden aunt on his father's side. The lady had lived out her last years in her brother's house in London. As a child, Jonathan had crept up to her apartments almost daily and spent hours, first being read to and later reading from her extensive library. An oddity in the family, she had liked the quiet, intelligent boy and taught him chess and discussed books with him. His best memories of boyhood were of Sunday afternoons in Aunt Madeleine's sitting room, discussing the morning's sermon over tea and scones, with two marmalade cats purring on the chaise beside him. When he left for school, he knew most of the scriptures by heart and could easily cite them in debate.

His father had assumed that he would supplement this inheritance, either through the accumulation of awards in his military career or by marrying a wealthy heiress. Jonathan had no interest in either. The curate's position came with a small cottage near the parsonage and a stipend that would support his meager expenses without forcing him to dip into his inheritance. He felt no great need to marry any time soon--the church called him and he hoped to do some good.

Jonathan de Bourgh spent nearly ten years at St. Mary's. His sermons were considered to be well-formulated and theologically sound by his peers. If some of the young ladies blushed and giggled over his sonorous voice and blue eyes, it went relatively unnoticed except in that attendance grew during his tenure. He continued his work amongst the poor and soon had organized a home for disabled soldiers and sailors who had no money or family to support them. The parish tithed funds for the lease on a house; the ladies sewed sheets, quilts, and other necessities and donated baskets of foodstuffs. Jonathan was even able to hire two nurses, knowledgeable men recently returned from the American wars, to tend to the men's injuries and assist in their recovery and rehabilitation.

Although Jonathan did not seek notice, his work was noted by many, including Sir Paul Churchill, a government minister. A former navy commander before taking a desk position at Whitehall, Churchill had cared deeply for his men and kept track of them in later years as best he could. After hearing praise for the young curate from a number of former sailors, he made an unannounced visit to the home for veterans, now called St. Elmo's House in honor of the patron saint of sailors.

Pleased with the clean conditions and the cheerful attitude of the men, he identified himself to the nurse and housekeeper, intimating that he might be willing to provide financial support. He was further impressed with the businesslike manner with which the staff treated him--giving him a brief tour and summarizing the services, noting what they had and what was needed without any groveling.

Sir Paul sent his card around, applying to the young curate for a meeting. The two men were pleased with each other, and the meeting was extended into a luncheon. Jonathan discussed oddities at St. Elmo's that had become innovations. The adoption of a miserable little dog with a gash on its leg that had been found huddling under a bush in the rear yard had provided the men with a mascot. One young ensign, who had not spoken in the six months he had spent recovering from the amputation of both legs and bad burns over his face and torso, had finally begun talking while clutching the yellow mutt to his chest and hiding his tears in the dog's fur. Later, two bedraggled kittens were added to the menagerie after being rescued by a nurse on his walk to work.

The rear garden had been another unexpected innovation in recovery. Originally a rather dull patch of lawn ringed with unprepossessing yews, it was rapidly being converted into a spectacular garden. One area had been sectioned into patches for those men who wished a small plot of their own, and, as many of the sailors had been farmer's sons before escaping to the sea, the kitchen at St. Elmo's was soon serving fresher produce than many a Mayfair townhouse. A rainbow of annuals, perennials, and rose bushes were flourishing, and the men had established a rota for "garden duties" as they had come to be called.

Sir Paul smiled at this, easily recognizing that these former military men were unconsciously defining a structure in which they were familiar--few of the invalids would be comfortable going outside to simply "take the air" with no goal. Now, even the amputees were involved, finding niches for themselves and comfort in the fact they remained useful. A small library of gardening books and journals was being build up, and a day trip to the Chelsea Physic Gardens was being discussed.

Jonathan paused for a sip of wine and suddenly realized that in his enthusiasm his host had cleared his plate while Jonathan's was barely touched. Sir Paul chuckled at the embarrassed young man "Not to worry, my boy. It warms my heart to hear of your progress and plans. I've seen too many men fall into melancholy upon returning to England from serving abroad, particularly the wounded."

Jonathan mentioned that a house across the square from St. Elmo's had been shut up for all the years he had known it and Sir Paul agreed to look into its ownership and see if it might be possible to lease or even purchase the property to expand the hospice. The older gentleman nodded thoughtfully as the younger man described his idea of moving the men through stages of their recovery; the second house might be a place for those in the final stages of recovery who were more comfortable having visitors and so forth.

Churchill himself suggested that perhaps a parlor, library, and smoking room be arranged almost as a club--a place where military men could drop by for a visit with old comrades, to refight old battles, discuss new ones, or simply to rest for a time where they were understood. "I often think of them as the walking wounded--men who finish their service with all their limbs intact and few visible scars, but have seen too much of pain and suffering to fall easily into their old lives. The family and friends that you dreamed of returning to…" The older man trailed off, looking into the distance and sighing deeply.

After moment the Commander 's thoughts returned to the present and, blinking, he looked up at the younger man and noted the question in his eyes.

"Battle of Lagos," he said simply, referring to one of the great naval battles of the Seven Years War. "It was a great victory and Admiral Boscawen a great commander… but to this day I can still hear the screams of those French sailors when the Redoubtable was driven up on the rocks off Gibraltar. Then I was given command of the Intrepid and made it to Quiberon Bay just in time to follow Admiral Hawkes into the shoals.

Jonathan nodded quietly, having heard stories from sailors who had survived the terrifying naval battle in which French and British fleets had fought desperately while dancing around reefs and shoals, buffeted by stormy winds.

Sir Paul grimaced toward his right leg and cane. "Caught shrapnel. I'll never forget that day; storm waves crashing on the rocks and reefs popping up where you'd never expect it. I thought we were pulling in around an island to sneak up on the French flagship when out pops this frigate with guns blazing. It would have been a sight if I were a painter, but as a young officer trying to rally a green crew…" He shrugged.

"Well, we got ourselves put together and took that frigate after some fancy sailing, but about a minute after they ran up the white flag, I looked down to see why my boot was squishing. There was a splinter as big as your thumb sticking out the side of my leg. Didn't even notice it in the heat of the battle, but by then, I'd leaked enough that my boot was full of blood and I nearly keeled over in the arms of my boson's mate."

"I was young and stupid--thought I could just get the ship doctor to pull it out, bind me up and get me back out to finish up the surrender. Made it another five hours before collapsing again. Teak--went septic." He grunted. "Didn't lose the leg, but spent about a month in fevers and surgeons, then another six months recovering at home with my mother fussing about." Jonathan smiled gently.

"Spent another six months at my father's house wandering through my old life like a fog." Sir Paul continued. "I knew I didn't want to try for another command at sea--I'd been a good officer but not a brilliant one--but wasn't sure of much else. I'd been affianced to a girl two years before--our families were close and she was a sweet, pretty thing, but we had nothing in common anymore. We broke it off amicably enough and I was happy when she got engaged to some lordling or other a few months later."

"I had about convinced myself that going out drinking every night with my old friends wasn't doing much for me when my uncle came for a visit. He'd been an army man--talked to me enough to understand that he'd seen some ugly things while serving in America when the colonies revolted. Then he did something that probably saved my life--suggested I take myself up to Scotland and spend some time in a hunting lodge the family owned, getting myself together. Mother fussed a bit, but he was her elder brother and she trusted his advice."

"So, I packed my kit, saddled my horse, and headed north. Mother had insisted I take my valet, but Abbot had served me for the last ten years and I knew he could use a bit of time to himself, so I dropped him off in Oxford to visit his family. When I got to Scotland, the elderly couple that kept the property had the lodge opened up and got me settled then went off back to their cottage.

"I spent a couple months barely speaking to another person. They came by once and again to do the cleaning and keep my larder provisioned but let me keep to myself. I went on some long hikes through the hills--took a blanket and slept rough if I'd walked too far. Did some fishing, but could barely even look at a gun, let alone think about hunting for sport.

"The Smythe's dog adopted me in my roving and we had some good long talks about philosophy and civilization. It was only years later that I realized that his camaraderie was much less spontaneous than it seemed. Turned out that Smythe was my uncle's batman in the army--my family had settled him and his wife as caretakers of the lodge when Uncle Thomas retired as thanks for his service. That dog was smart as a whip and as well-trained as a twenty-year master sergeant. I have no doubt he was sent out to keep me out of trouble.

"My uncle had clued in his old comrade on my situation when he wrote to Smythe to have the lodge opened. They gave me my space when I needed it, and after a couple months I found myself dropping by their cottage more and more frequently for Mrs. Smythe's scones and a spot of conversation. By September I found myself ready for a bit of society and curious as to the political happenings of the world while I'd been in my cocoon. Smythe gave me a haircut and shave so that I looked a bit less of a highland wildman, and I headed down the road to Edinburgh.

"I stayed with a friend in Edinburgh; Merriweather had been a few years ahead of me at St. Andrews and then we'd served together at one point or another. He'd settled as a solicitor in Edinburgh with his wife of five years and two children. Fiona Merriweather took one look at me and bustled off to plot with the housekeeper and cook to see how they could fatten me up. After a week they had me trimmed and tailored to befit a man of my standing (my valet Abbot had finished his holiday and traveled up to Edinburgh to assist in the effort) and ready to reenter the world."

Suddenly Sir Paul coloured and looked down at his plate. After a moment's pause, however, he looked up at Jonathan with an amused look. "You are an excellent listener, young man. I haven't blathered on about my life's story for years."

Jonathan immediately disagreed, assuring the older gentleman that he was indeed interested in his history. Churchill waved him off, though, after checking his pocket watch.

"No, my dear boy. You have certainly proved the exceptional talents that make you so respected a cleric, but I have other appointments to keep. Come to our home for dinner some evening this week and I might tell you more."

When Jonathan indicated his willingness, the Commander thought for a moment before speaking. "I believe Friday would work, but I shall have to consult with my wife. I will send around a note and we can work it out."

When Jonathan de Bourgh arrived at the Churchill's on Friday evening for the first of many friendly dinners, he was impressed by the happy relationship that existed between the Commander and his wife Evaline, an intelligent, well-bred woman who still spoke with the soft accent of her native Edinburgh after twenty years in London. It was soon apparent that her intellect easily matched her husband's and that, unlike some men, he embraced it. Theirs was truly a marriage built upon love and respect, in every sense, and Jonathan felt more comfortable with them than he ever had in the house in which he had grown up.

The Churchills had two children; their son Edmund was away at university and their daughter Rebecca was in Scotland visiting her mother's family.

One Tuesday afternoon, Jonathan was in his study working on the bookkeeping for St. Elmo's, a task he truly despised. He felt slightly guilty at the relief he felt at a knock on the door but still opened it with a smile.

That smile only grew when he found the Commander on his doorstep accompanied by a rather severe looking young lady whom he soon learned to be Miss Rebecca Churchill.

Once introductions were made, Jonathan pressed his visitors to take tea and soon all were comfortable in his small sitting room. He watched as the young lady took a tentative sip from the cup he handed her and then, seemingly having determined that it was acceptable, nodded to herself. Then she glanced at him and they locked eyes. He was not certain, but he thought that she might have blushed ever so slightly.

The curate's eyes twinkled. "Is the tea acceptable, Miss Churchill?"

The young lady showed no reaction except to blink once, slowly. "Quite, Mr. de Bourgh."

The Commander leaned back in his chair and suppressed his desire to chuckle. He had been looking forward to introducing his daughter to this young man for some weeks.

"Please, call me Reverend Jonathan."

The young lady blinked again and he had the odd feeling that every detail of the room had been catalogued exactly. Eyes still twinkling, he continued.

"I find that tea is a great lubricant for conversation. My parishioners often use up all their courage to knock on my door and then find themselves seated but unable to tell me their troubles. My bishop let me in on the secret; I always keep a kettle on the hob now."

Rebecca tilted her head to one side, still looking at him intently. Finally, her father could no longer restrain his laughter. "What my daughter is trying not to say, knowing that it might offend you, is that she is surprised that you served the tea yourself rather than a maid or housekeeper."

The blue eyes closed tightly for a moment, clearly embarrassed. "Papa!"

Jonathan grinned. "Please, do not make yourself uncomfortable; it is not the first time that someone has remarked upon it and I doubt it will be the last. Your father has disclosed my dark secret; I have neither housekeeper nor maid but do most of my own cooking. Mrs. Burke comes by twice a week to do the heavy cleaning and take out the laundry; she isn't quite sure whether to consider me unnatural or adopt me as a favorite son."

Head still cocked, the young lady spoke distinctly. "I am surprised that someone of your family would deign to suffer so."

"Rebecca!" said her father, now in an admonishing tone.

Jonathan held up his hand, stopping the Commander's apology before it was spoken. "You are an intelligent young lady, Miss Churchill. Shall you judge me on the accident of my birth or on how I choose to live my life?"

There were several moments of silence before Rebecca nodded slowly. "You are quite correct; I had not realized how prejudiced I was."

"I take it that you have met my family?"

She nodded curtly and could not restrain herself from speaking bluntly. "Your eldest brother seduced a friend of mine; she was but seventeen and your esteemed father deemed her too poor to marry any son of his." Her pursed lips indicated precisely what she thought of that.

Despite herself, Rebecca was intrigued to see that the young man was unfazed by her directness. Instead, he was nodding sadly and broke eye contact to rub both hands across his eyes.

"I have tried…" He trailed off before looking into her eyes. "The girl, is she well? Is there anything I can do to help her?"

Rebecca noted the honest concern in the young man's face and her features softened. "She suffered a miscarriage before she began to show much, which some might say was the most fortunate outcome."

Jonathan shook his head, having counseled many women grieving over the loss of a child. "That may be what society thinks but I cannot believe that the loss of any child should be counted as fortunate. How is the mother?"

Miss Churchill's respect for the young curate was rising quickly. "She is grieving, both for the loss of her babe but also for the loss of her innocence. It has not helped that her parents have been less concerned with comforting her than with concealing the event so as to maintain their own reputation."

Clearly agitated, she attempted to restrain her emotions but her fury was evident. "Not four days after her miscarriage, they made her attend a garden party at the de Bourgh's house and act as if nothing was wrong. Your brother's engagement was announced and she had no warning."

Jonathan shook his head and looked into his teacup for some minutes before speaking. "How is she now? Is there anything I can do? I will speak to my father and brother but I am afraid that my words hold little sway with either of them."

"Do not bother. If Beth has her way, she will never hear the name de Bourgh again, much less see any of them."

Jonathan was oddly pleased when she referred to the de Bourghs as 'them,' implicitly acknowledging his separation from the family.

Rebecca continued, "We arranged for her to visit my mother's family in Edinburgh; I have just returned from accompanying her." She smiled weakly. "I suppose that is why I am so riled up; I hope you will forgive my harsh words earlier. After spending so many days in a carriage with Beth… I am afraid that the best way I could find to raise her spirits was to make up stories of how your elder brothers would be punished in a just world. We were quite inventive."

The young man managed a smile. "That sounds quite healthy and I have to admit that I indulged in something similar when I was a lad, living in the same house with them."

The two young people shared a smile full of understanding. At that point, the Commander cleared his throat, deciding that it was time to remind them of his presence. "I spent some time in India, at various ports, but enough to learn a bit of their belief systems. As I understood it, rather than a single lifespan followed by either Heaven or Hell, they believe that one's soul is reborn multiple times, and that your actions in this life determine what you will be reborn as… cockroach or king. I admit to finding the concept attractive at times; Hell seems too good for some men."

Rebecca smiled softly at her beloved father. "And is that why you take such delight from stomping on cockroaches?"

Father and daughter shared an amused look before Sir James turned back to their host. "Well then, Reverend Jonathan. As much as I would enjoy one of our theological debates, I am afraid that my visit had a far more practical purpose. Are you still having difficulties with the books for St. Elmo's?"

The young man grimaced. "Indeed; I have spent the morning working on the ledgers but I cannot make heads nor tails of it. Clearly something is wrong, but for the life of me I can't work out what. I should hate to spend the parish's funds to hire an accountant but I may well be forced to do so."

The Commander smiled. "Well, I have brought you an accountant who will donate her time for free." He turned to grin at his daughter. "Well, she may require a few cups of tea and a biscuit or two."

Jonathan turned to the young lady and she noted that his face seemed honestly delighted, quite free from the derision or condescension that she was normally met with when men discovered her abilities at what was considered to be a most unfeminine subject.

"Truly? Miss Churchill, if you have the talent and are willing to look over my ledgers, I should be most grateful."

Rebecca blinked at him and her father chuckled. "What my daughter is unable to say is that she is surprised that you accept her ability so readily." The Commander looked proudly at his offspring. "The truth is that Rebecca is a veritable genius with numbers but we have been met with only close-minded prejudice from the academicians that she has approached." He grunted with irritation. "They seem to think that mathematics is wholly the domain of the masculine mind and that no female could possibly have such a capacity."

Miss Churchill reached over and patted her father's arm. "Do not upset yourself, Papa. Their idiocy is not worth bothering ourselves over." She turned back to the curate. "Papa is my greatest advocate."

Jonathan could see that the young lady was slightly guarded and easily imagined how much prejudice she had been confronted with. "Such talent is a gift from God and it is to your credit that you have embraced it in the face of such opposition." He grinned. "I myself have the gift of baking excellent biscuits, so perhaps we can both ply our talents this afternoon?"

The little cottage was filled with laughter and soon the plan was agreed upon. The Commander departed on an errand and Rebecca settled at Jonathan's desk and was soon deep in concentration. Jonathan himself settled at the kitchen table, dividing his time between the stove and his sermon for the following Sunday; his discussion with the Churchills had inspired him and he rapidly scratched out a text on why they should embrace the Lord's gifts, regardless of the vessel.

He was deep in thought when a movement at the door caught his eye. Looking up, he smiled at the young lady. "Miss Churchill! Please, come in. Would you like another cup of tea or perhaps a biscuit? These are made with oatmeal and raisins and are still warm; I admit that they are my favorites; when I moved out of my father's house, I begged his cook for the recipe."

Rebecca nodded and took a seat at the table, accepting a cookie. "I hope I am not disturbing you, sir."

"Not at all." Jonathan was pleased when she nibbled on the biscuit and then took another. "Our discussion earlier gave me an idea for my sermon this Sunday. I find that I must write down my thoughts as soon as I can or I loose them." He smiled. "I've taken to keeping paper and a pencil around in my pocket so that I may jot down notes where ever I am."

His admission was greeted with the first open smile he had coaxed from Miss Churchill. "I do something similar! Actually, it was my father's idea; one morning I wrote out equations all over his newspaper before he had a chance to read it." She smirked and Jonathan laughed out loud.

Their conversation turned to her success with the ledgers and Jonathan was relieved with her results. The missing funds had not been pilfered but were merely the result of an accidental duplication in billing caused by the short month of February.

There was a pause in the conversation as Jonathan took the moment to check on a roast in the oven. He returned to the table and found the young lady watching him. Checking the teapot and finding the tea to be properly brewed, he strained the leaves and poured two cups.

After taking a sip and smiling with pleasure, Rebecca looked up at the young man. "You have a great talent, sir. I wish I were as capable with a kettle but I find I always lose track of time and it ends up stewing. My mother quite refuses to allow me near a teapot anymore."

Jonathan grinned. "My Aunt Madeleine taught me. She never married and was forced by economy to make her home in my father's house toward the end of her life." His eyes showed his fondness. "Her rheumatism became quite debilitating when I was still a lad so she made certain that I would be able to prepare her tea as she liked it."

"Do you visit her often?" Rebecca regretted her question the instant she saw the pain that flashed across the gentle man's face.

"She passed away four years ago. I moved to this cottage soon after her funeral."

Rebecca nodded with understanding and he found himself speaking of his most beloved relative, as well as the emptiness he was left with upon her death. Eventually he paused, hearing the mantel clock in the sitting room ringing the hour and amused to find himself talking so much.

"You are a remarkable young lady, Miss Churchill. It is not often that I encounter someone with such ready empathy."

Rebecca turned her dark blue eyes on the young cleric and he was struck with the feeling that she could see straight into his soul. "If we are being honest, I must say that I was quite surprised by your youth. Papa wrote a great deal about your work at St. Elmo's and you are not at all what I pictured," she replied.

Jonathan shrugged and tucked his chin. Normally he would brush aside comments on his age with a joke about the naïveté of youth making him the only one stupid enough to attempt such an endeavor, but he was somehow certain that anything but the absolute truth would be detected instantly by those intent blue eyes.

After a moment of quiet, Miss Churchill seemed to realize that she had embarrassed the young man and instantly began to apologize. "I am sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable…"

Jonathan forced himself to speak, absently wondering what it was about this girl who seemed to destroy his usual composure.

Meanwhile, Rebecca was still attempting to apologize. "I did not mean it as a criticism at all…"

Finally, the curate managed a smile. "Miss Churchill, I admit to being somewhat embarrassed, but be assured that I did not take offence at your comment."

The young lady met his eyes and seemed reassured by what she saw there. She nodded slowly. "It is just that… I sometimes think it unfair that the world is controlled by those who are older, but so often it is the young people who have the energy and the desire to change things."

Jonathan leaned forward, instantly transfixed by the fire he glimpsed. In that moment, he recognized Miss Rebecca Churchill as a kindred spirit, though she kept her true self hidden under tight control in most society.

He grinned, and Rebecca was left blinking at how the expression of heartfelt joy transformed the young man's face.

"I completely agree, Miss Churchill. When we are young and just learning, we see all that is wrong or illogical… but everyone tells us that we must keep our heads down and not offend our elders… that we will have our chance someday, but I fear that by that time, we will no longer feel such energy… such zeal… to reform. Does that sound right?"

But Rebecca was already agreeing with him. "Yes!" For some minutes, she told him about her love of mathematics; how it was so easy for her, how the numbers and symbols seemed to dance in her head some nights until she got up and wrote out the derivations; equations as beautiful to her as any David or Mona Lisa.

Then she spoke of the shock when her father had taken her to the university and attempted to introduce her to some faculty in the maths department. Those men had dismissed her; some assumed her father was attempting to play some sort of trick on them, while others openly jeered at her as 'unnatural' and told her to go home and practice her embroidery.

Rebecca had reentered their carriage in tears with her father fuming by her side. However, once she had cried her fill, she had curled up at her father's side and began to plot. With her father's permission (and often his connivance) she had begun corresponding with mathematicians at St. Andrews (Mrs. Churchill had made several comments about how her own countrymen would recognize her daughter's brilliance, even if the English would not).

Jonathan was fascinated by the young lady's description of how she was managing to consult with other mathematicians on her work by correspondence, signing only as 'R.A. Churchill.' She had put aside her anger and disappointment and now seemed only amused at how her correspondents assumed that she was a man.

Their conversation continued for the better part of the afternoon and only ended when Sir Paul returned to the parsonage to retrieve his daughter. The older gentleman was pleased to see the pair enjoying each other's company. Jonathan was invited to dinner at the Churchill residence and they parted in laughter when he offered to bring a pudding.

The two young people spent a great deal of time together over the following months and their mutual respect and affection continued to deepen. When the engagement of Mr. Jonathan de Bourgh to Miss Rebecca Churchill was announced not four months after their first meeting, several girls in his parish church burst into tears even as the Commander boasted to his wife that he had made the match himself.

The ceremony itself was held at St. Mary's and, though conducted by Jonathan's mentor, Bishop Annesley, it was delivered in the style of a small, neighborhood church. Lady Harriet sniffed, displeased that one of her sons would be married with so little pomp and circumstance. Lord Maxwell fell asleep five minutes into the service and Jonathan's two eldest brothers did not even bother to attend.

The bride and groom barely noticed; their own joy was fueled by their mutual certainty of a happy union and the presence of so many friends and family who did support them. Edmund Churchill returned some weeks before the wedding and Jonathan was pleased to find his bride's younger brother to be a quiet, serious young man who was studying the law with the intent of entering politics.

After a short honeymoon to the seaside, the newlyweds returned to London and moved into the parsonage at St. Mary's. Though a larger stipend came with his elevation in position, the couple continued to live simply, abet unconventionally. He did much of the cooking while she continued to publish her mathematics, and their greatest expenditures were on books and parchment.

Jonathan and Rebecca de Bourgh lived and worked together in his London parish for five years after their marriage. Their first child, Madeleine, was born two years after they married. Two years after that, a baby boy was welcomed into the family and named Paul, after his grandfather Churchill. Sadly, sickness swept through the slums and their son died before he reached his first birthday. Husband and wife grieved deeply and decided to seek a parish in the country where the air was cleaner and their daughter could enjoy more of nature. Jonathan felt he had done good work with St. Elmo's and the framework he had set in place would sustain itself without his presence.

So it was that, in the summer of 1784, Jonathan and Rebecca found themselves preparing to spend two weeks at a house party at Wolfram Manor, the primary de Bourgh estate in Essex, despite their mutual distaste for his family. Lord Maxwell's health had been poor recently and he had decreed that all his offspring would attend the celebration of his seventieth birthday.

The morning after their arrival, Rebecca and Jonathan rose at dawn as was their habit. Over their seven years of marriage, they had worked out a schedule beneficial to all in the family. Both loved early mornings for the quiet--a time with few interruptions from the outside world. They would breakfast together as a family, discussing the coming day. Then Jonathan would spend time with their daughter, reading to her or taking her for walks while Rebecca would take some time for herself, usually for her mathematics.

On this morning her mind was still rather fuzzy after a day spent traveling, so she decided to find the music room and spend time on a new piece she had found recently. Rebecca was careful to close the doors tightly--she had no desire to disturb the other houseguests--and finding the pianoforte to be well-tuned, began warming up with some scales and simple pieces. For her, music was like mathematics for the ear--the organization and division of the notes was as beautiful as any calculus. She smirked to herself--she had long since given up trying to explain such things to the young ladies she met--their primary interest in music seemed to be as a necessary skill to exhibit themselves to gentlemen.

Fingers limbered, she decided to move on to her goal of the morning, a piano concerto composed by the young Bavarian prodigy, Wolfgang Mozart. She worked her way through it slowly the first time, noting fingerings and stopping several times to work out the trickier passages. After an hour, she paused and stood, walking to the windows while stretching her arms over her head to relieve the strain that had built up in her shoulders.

In her youth, Rebecca had often played with such focus that she would spend hours practicing without break, finally stopping to find her back aching and fingers cramping. Looking out across the gardens, she smiled to herself. Having children had undoubtedly enhanced her ability to do multiple things at once. She wondered what the academicians lauding her recent work would say if they knew much of it had been done when she had been up in the night, holding a babe to her breast with her right arm while working equations with her left.

With the help of her friends at St. Andrews, she had submitted her most promising work to the Royal Society and it had been presented with acclaim. She would not lie about herself, but knowing that the prejudice against women was too great, she always submitted her work as "R. A. Churchill" and did not correct those replies she received as "Mr." She turned down invitations to meetings or lectures, citing a "family situation" that did not allow travel.

After working out the tension in her shoulders, Rebecca decided that she was ready to try the concerto again. Settling at the bench, she arranged the music so that page turning would be the least bother and then, taking a deep breath, poised her fingers over the keys and threw herself into the music.

Lady Anne Fitzwilliam had enjoyed her twentieth birthday two weeks prior. The youngest of the three Fitzwilliam children, she had a quiet warmth and desire to see everyone around her happy. She loved the light of mornings and often rose before the rest of the house to spend time outdoors sketching or painting with her watercolours. This morning she rose at seven as usual and ventured downstairs with the idea of spending some time practicing on the pianoforte before the other ladies descended.

As she came to the closed door of the music room, she heard the opening notes of a concerto she had only recently begun learning. Curious as to the other early riser, she cracked open the door to see a woman in her early thirties, handsome rather than beautiful, dark auburn hair put up in a simple style and wearing a simple green muslin frock. Most noticeable was the woman's focus--there seemed to be nothing else in the world but her and the instrument. Anne slipped into the room and quietly seated herself in a chair with a clear view of the woman's hands as her fingers flew up and down the keys.

Rebecca was completely unaware of her audience. As she worked her way through to the end of the piece, she sat for a moment as the last notes echoed through the room. She was recalled to her surroundings by the sound of two hands clapping and turned to see a young lady with a warm smile rising from a chair by the door.

"Oh, that was magnificent. Your fingering is so precise. I've been working on that piece for weeks but I still end up slurring my way through the difficult passages."

Rebecca was still working her mind back to reality and merely stared at the lady for a moment before speaking quietly. "Thank you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I've interrupted you. I woke early and was thinking of practicing myself when I heard you through the door and couldn't resist. Please forgive me. I'll leave you to your solitude."

By then Rebecca had recovered her wits and smiled at the young lady whose sincere apologies were belied by the eager look in her eyes. "Oh, no; please stay. I've been here for two hours and it is high time for me to take a break." Seeing the young lady's happy smile, she continued. "That was actually the first time I have made it through the piece without a pause--I thank you for your praise, but there are a number of sections where I fudged the timing. This arpeggio on the second page keeps tripping me up." Pulling out the appropriate page, she demonstrated, groaning at the end when, once again, she missed a final triplet.

"I've been having trouble with just that passage. I think I may have finally worked out a fingering that works. May I?" Anne had drawn closer to the piano and bent over to place her fingers on the instrument. Rebecca shifted on the bench to give the younger woman room to sit.

Anne worked her way slowly through the notes to remind herself of the piece, then started at the beginning of the section that was troubling her new friend, her long, slender fingers dancing fluidly through the arpeggio. As she ended, Rebecca clapped her hands with pleasure "Yes, you've got it. Would you go through it again, more slowly this time so that I may catch it?"

The two women were still in that same position, blond and brown curls tight together, when Jonathan de Bourgh and his daughter entered the music room with a new acquaintance of their own. Anne saw her new friend's face transform from exacting focus to warmth and pride when the lady noticed her little family. Holding out her hands with a smile, Rebecca laughed as her daughter ran to her arms, kissing the little girl on the cheek and smirking at her husband who seemed to have forgotten the crown of daisies on his head.

"And how are you, my dear? Did you have a nice morning with your papa?"

"Oh Mama! It was lovely! We saw the kitchen garden and Papa found a mint he wants to grow! And then we met Mr. Darcy and he showed us the pond and told me what kinds of fish live there. Are you playing a duet? May I learn?"

Little Madeleine de Bourgh might be only four years old (going on five) but she had a good mind and an inquisitive nature that was nurtured by both parents. Walks with her father were often occupied with identifying plants, birds, and insects that they encountered. Her papa had taught her to make her letters and she was deeply proud that she could write her name. A happy evening in the de Bourgh home was one with her parents in comfortable chairs by the fire, each with their nose in a book. By three, little Maddy had joined them, often sitting on the rug between them, paging through an atlas of maps or a monograph illustrating plants and animals from England and abroad.

Her mother had taught her numbers and encouraged her interest on the pianoforte.

Lady Anne had smiled softly at the approach of the little girl. Her own parents had followed the traditional path of leaving her and her siblings' care to nurses and governesses; she was struck by the simple joy of this mother and daughter. It had never occurred to her to regret the rather distant relationship with her own mother. Clearly Rebecca de Bourgh saw children as a joy, not simply a duty. It was something to consider. At this point, Anne's mind suddenly registered the presence of another gentleman in the room.

Mr. George Darcy was a tall, handsome man with an ease in society that gained him many friends. In her first season in London, Anne had noticed him immediately and was somewhat embarrassed at how often her thoughts returned to the one dance that they had shared. Her elder sister had dismissed any connection to the Darcy family because they lacked a title, but Anne had a secret hope to marry where there might be some hope of affection, not merely duty. Her father's estate in southern Derbyshire had ensured that the families saw each other occasionally at social gatherings in the country as well as in town.

To be honest, George Darcy had paid little attention to the youngest Fitzwilliam girl. He had asked her for a dance out of respect for his old school mate, Henry Fitzwilliam (the lady's elder brother). To himself, he had acknowledged her to be pretty, but she had been so quiet during their dance that he was left with no sense of any personality. In addition, the Fitzwilliams were still nouveau riche by Darcy standards and he was well aware that his own father was currently hoping to arrange a marriage for him to one of the Duke of Norfolk's daughters.

Over the next few days, young Mr. Darcy spent a great deal of time with Jonathan de Bourgh; the living at Lambton had recently come vacant and Mr. Darcy's ailing father had given him the responsibility of appointing a new cleric. By default, Mr. Darcy also found himself spending time with Mrs. de Bourgh (or, as she insisted she be called in all but the most formal of situations, Rebecca) and Lady Anne.

Although on the surface it might have seemed that Anne and Rebecca had little in common, they soon found a great deal to like in one another. Both had a sincere love of music that separated them from the dilettantes more frequently found in society. They also both enjoyed the freedom that riding gave them and the following week saw the pair often exploring the Essex countryside on horseback. Anne was sweet and innocent, wishing all around her to be happy. Rebecca was clever and far more aware of the evils in the world, but her cynicism made her appreciate her new friend's sunny optimism and trusting manner.

Unfortunately, Jonathan and Rebecca's pleasure in their stay at Wolfram was marred in the second week when the reverend overheard his elder brothers arguing while playing billiards. Barely containing his disgust when he realized that they were already drunk at only two in the afternoon, he confronted them. Jonathan's emotions rapidly flared into fury when he came to understand the terms of their wager.

Lewis de Bourgh had bet his elder brother that he could not seduce a certain young lady by the end of the week and now was dismissing George's claim of success because he had not arranged to be observed in flagrante.

When Jonathan railed against their behavior, his elder brothers laughed at what they considered to be his 'prudery.' He was met with a similar attitude from his father who merely sneered and claimed that if the girl's father could not keep her under control, then there was little hope that she would have remained chaste. He had little regard for the possibility of any reproof should Society come to know of his sons' actions. "Boys will be boys," he grunted and dismissed his youngest from his presence.

After discussing the situation with Rebecca during the post coach ride back to London, Jonathan had made an appointment with the lady's family and explained the situation.

In later years, the cleric and his wife would look back on the summer party at Wolfram with deeply divided feelings. The girl was found to be with child and never again seen by London society, while the de Bourghs suffered no significant repercussions. Completely disgusted with his family's lack of morals, Jonathan and Rebecca severed all connection with them. This was made easier when, in less than a year, they found themselves moving to Derbyshire and settling their little family at the Lambton parsonage. One of Jonathan's first duties as rector was to marry the young, new Master of Pemberley, Mr. George Darcy, to Lady Anne Fitzwilliam.

Father Jonathan and Mrs. Rebecca, as they were known to their parish, settled happily into their new life. Rebecca visited Pemberley House regularly and servants and guests alike were often treated to duets by the Mistress and her friend. With Mr. Darcy's blessing and occasional assistance from Lady Anne, they also organized a ragged school, teaching the children of tenants and villagers to read and write.

Little Madeleine found herself quite happy with their move to the country. Her greatest pleasure, however, came upon the appearance of two little brothers (Peter and Jacob) and a little sister (Abigail). Embracing her role as big sister, Madeleine's parents were often treated to impromptu recitations or spelling bees and as she grew up, her role in the ragged school run by her parents grew from pupil to tutor.

Growing up in the idyllic countryside that was Pemberley, Madeleine was far removed from the London, a place which she associated with the death of her little brother Paul. She regularly told her parents that she wished to become a teacher, or if that was not possible, a governess.

Knowing the realities of such positions far better than their daughter, Jonathan and Rebecca recognized that the young lady's great capacity to love would be better served as a wife and mother, though the options of finding a mate were limited by the size of the neighborhood. When Madeleine turned eighteen, her parents arranged for her to spend several months in London with her mother's Churchill relations to enjoy a proper season. Her parents were content that exposure to a broader society than their Derbyshire acquaintance would do Madeleine good.

Although Sir Paul Churchill had passed on several years before, his widow was still active and retained her good nature. In addition, Rebecca's brother, Edmund, had married a delightful young lady named Agnes and the couple had several children, including a daughter who would be entering society that very spring.

Madeleine departed Derbyshire just as the arrival of spring had triggered a faint veil of green over the landscape. She had no doubt that she would miss her family and friends intensely, but the young lady could not ignore the excitement that stirred in her breast. Her memories of London were those of a little girl; she returned with the eyes of an adult and was looking forward to seeing all that she might see.

Her sojourn was everything that she might have dreamed. In addition to parties, balls and shopping, her mind was edified by visits to museums, exhibitions, and the odd scientific demonstration. Sooner than seemed possible, the family was rising early to take breakfast at Vauxhall Gardens in celebration of her last Saturday with them. For years Madeleine would be unable to think of the idyllic day without guilt; after a decadent meal of pastries and ices, they had wandered the paths to be entertained by tightrope walkers and clownish jesters; Madeleine had even convinced her cousin Emma to ascend in a hot air balloon while holding on to each other tightly.

The happy group had returned home tired and dusty but full of good memories. Madeleine had climbed the stairs to her room and put her ticket stub and program in a box that she used to collect mementos. She was about to ring the bell for a maid to bring bath water when there came a knock at her door. Deep inside her, she had known immediately that something was desperately wrong when she looked up to find both her aunt and uncle standing there with miserable looks upon their usually good-humored faces.

"What has happened?" She asked more calmly than any eighteen-year-old should have.

Her Uncle Edmund opened his mouth but was too overcome with emotion to speak. He held out a letter that had come express from Derbyshire while they had been out.

As Madeleine began reading the letter from George Darcy, she barely registered that her Aunt had guided her to sit on the bed and had wrapped her arm around the girl.

The letter was brief and the words not at all what Madeleine would normally expect from the jolly Mr. Darcy. In the instant before her own grief crashed down upon her, Maddy sensed the intense heartache and grief that the Master of Pemberley was suffering.

Dear Miss Madeleine,

In the month of May, a small pox epidemic swept through Derbyshire and claimed the lives of many at Pemberley and the surrounding villages. It is my sad duty to inform you that both of your parents were taken from us. The sickness also claimed the lives of your sister and brothers. I do not know if there is anything I can say to adequately express my sympathy for your loss. Please know that Father Jonathan and Mrs. Rebecca's good works shall be remembered as long as there are Darcys at Pemberley. Although your parents' lives were cut short, they have left a legacy that will endure.

Please contact me immediately if there is anything that I may do to assist you.

With greatest sympathy,

George Darcy