Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 9

Posted on 2008-07-01

Early the next day, while Elizabeth attempted to be usefully employed indoors, Mr. Darcy and the colonel arrived at the parsonage. After being announced and seated, the gentlemen spoke with Mrs. Collins and Maria; Mr. Darcy asked Elizabeth if she had news yet of her father or his plans. Even as she regretfully denied such hopes, the rumbling of an approaching carriage was heard, followed by the distant sound of Mr. Collins, excited by the visitors. “With any luck,” she added to Mr. Darcy, “that is my father now.”

The party adjourned to the front door, even as Mr. Collins, still in his gardening clothes, nearly danced with impatience for the passengers to descend. Elizabeth caught the same expression on Mr. Darcy’s face that she hoped she was not expressing herself. At least we are one mind regarding him, Elizabeth mused to herself.

The carriage door opened, and Mr. Bennet swung out. “Papa!” she cried, running up to him.

He caught her in a hug, in an unusually fervent display of emotion, and even kissed her on the forehead. “Ah, my Lizzy.”

She was startled, however, when Mr. Gardiner stepped down from the carriage as well, and handed out her Aunt Gardiner as well as Jane. Jane hugged her sister with a nearly desperate strength, but Elizabeth had barely a moment to register that Jane had been crying; the appearance of her uncle as well as her father rattled her composure, and she glanced between them with an unspoken question. Mr. Gardiner explained, “’Tis a tad complicated, my dear. My brother Bennet will have to explain at least part of it to you himself.”

Mr. Collins greeted Mr. Bennet and Jane, and Mrs. Collins greeted Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, then introduced them to her husband. Mrs. Collins conferred with Mrs. Gardiner, “Alas, ma’am, the parsonage does not have enough room for all of you.”

“Not to fret, Mrs. Collins. Mr. Gardiner and I are only here for a short period; he cannot be spared from his business for long, even for this,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.

The meeting between Mr. Darcy and her father, Elizabeth noted, was not quite as cool as she would have expected; Mr. Darcy was endeavouring to be as open as he could be, with Mr. Collins flitting about like a hummingbird, no doubt in search of gossip already.

“Come, let us go into the house,” Mrs. Collins beckoned the group. As soon as she had them settled, she directed her husband to change and to inform Lady Catherine of their arrival, and asked her father go with her husband. She pulled Maria into the kitchen to assist her and the kitchen maid with making refreshments for the unexpectedly large group.

Mr. Darcy glanced at the colonel before asking, “Shall my cousin and I leave to also inform Lady Catherine of your arrival?”

Mr. Bennet shook his head. “You may as well hear this out. It may be better for you to relay it to Lady Catherine than for me to repeat it again.” Mr. Darcy nodded, and shut the door.

Mr. Bennet waited until the door was closed. “I am sorry, Lizzy, for this situation. I should have told you something, anything, a long time ago.” In too much shock at such a beginning, Elizabeth could not feel any emotions of her own in particular. She noted, however, that Jane looked exceedingly distressed; indeed, she had not yet relinquished her spot by her sister. Her father looked as if he had aged a few years in a matter of days. “You have heard, I believe, of talk about the only Bennet son that survived past infancy?” her father began.

Elizabeth nodded. The eldest child, Thomas Jr., had taken ill when he was sent to London during his mother’s confinement with Catherine. Jane had gone to London as well, but while she fell ill and nearly succumbed, she did not. The heir of Longbourn had not survived. Elizabeth had always assumed she had been kept at home along with Mary, for her name never came up during the very few times it was mentioned.

“What we never told you, and what Jane never remembered, is that there was a third child who was sent to London. Mrs. Bennet could not bear to be separated from Mary, who was two at that time, but the eldest three were deemed to be ‘in the way,’ and my mother Gardiner had politely offered to host her grandchildren until the newest one was born.” Jane reached out and gripped Elizabeth’s hand tightly. “The third was Elizabeth Anne.”

Elizabeth felt light-headed. She did not, to the best of her knowledge, even have a middle name.

Mrs. Gardiner took up the story. “My father, Dr. Hollsworth, had been the physician in Lambton –“

“Lambton? That’s but five miles from Pemberley… was it your father who attended my mother, then?” Mr. Darcy broke in.

Mrs. Gardiner smiled, a tight, strained smile. “It is indeed possible, Mr. Darcy. But my father rarely spoke to us of his clients; we moved from Lambton to London when I was 14.” Mr. Darcy nodded and murmured a vague apology for interrupting.

“My own mother volunteered her services with an orphan’s shelter; I often assisted her, as it gave me something beyond my studies with which to occupy myself, instead of missing old friends.” Elizabeth knew that much of her aunt’s history, and wondered how it applied. “The summer I was 16, there was a sickness that flew through both the orphans of the city, and most of the families as well. My father was kept busy attending his clients’ children, including those staying in the Gardiner house. Mother and I spent many of our waking hours in an attempt to ease the suffering of those at the orphanage.”

Mr. Gardiner picked up the thread. “Dr. Hollsworth had told us it was a children’s fever, a vicious, fast acting illness that there was little to be done to stop. Most of his patients, he told us, lived or died with little input from his treatments, but he would attempt to control the fever of the children – that much seemed to help. So I, along with mother and the nurse, and several of the staff, did everything we could to save my nephew and nieces. We could only save one, Jane.” Jane’s grip on Elizabeth’s hand had gotten almost painful, but she was barely able to feel it.

“But –"Elizabeth started.

"The orphanage had recently picked up another girl – dark haired, bright, precocious," Mrs. Gardiner overrode her niece's interruption. "Her clothes were far too fine to be anything but a gentleman's daughter, and my mother and I paid for a notice to be put into the paper, hoping her family would come and claim her. She had not yet fallen ill, so my mother brought her home, in the hopes of minimizing her chances of infection. My father, although much taken with the child, knew of a family who had just lost a girl by the same given name, although their daughter had been fair haired like the elder sister. He knew the children's father would be arriving that day, having gotten the express that they had fallen ill. He thought, perhaps, the family would be open to taking the girl on, at least until her family could claim her, as something to ease their grief."

"No," Elizabeth whispered in disbelief, shaking her head to clear the information, hoping it would help. She could not be hearing this.

Mr. Bennet picked up the tale. "I arrived not a day after the express came to me, which had been sent only two days after the children had fallen ill. By then, my son and my daughter were no longer of this world, and Jane was failing," Elizabeth gripped Jane's hand tightly, stricken at the thought of how close she had come – beyond disbelief, that was the only emotion she could yet feel, "My brother Gardiner introduced me to the doctor, who explained how rapid and merciless the fever was for those under ten, and then told me of the child his wife had found at the orphanage. I was… mad with grief, and anxious to grasp at any straws; when he told me the girl said her name was Elizabeth, like my daughter, what else could I do, but agree to at least meet her?"

Mr. Bennet broke off, and knelt in front of Elizabeth, taking both of her hands in his – Jane had not wanted to relinquish her hold, but did so, instead wrapping an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "Do you know what she did when I met her?" Elizabeth mutely shook her head. "She crawled up into my lap, patted my cheeks, told me not to cry, and asked me if I wanted one of the kittens that had just been born. She said there were five to choose from, and that she'd counted them all herself. And she asked if there were any books to be read from." Mr. Bennet was crying, albeit softly, now. "I love you. And I swear, Lizzy, I have loved you as my own from the moment I laid eyes on you. It matters not to me that you were three instead of newly born. You have always been my daughter in your own right, not as a replacement for a loss." He looked up at her. "That's why we called you 'Lizzy' – you were not our Elizabeth, but you were still a bright, sparkling jewel of a child, and neither I nor Mrs. Bennet could do anything but love you."

He looked away again, not yet giving up her hands. "I took you home to Longbourn; Dr. Hollsworth said that you had been but barely exposed to others who were sick, and to keep you in health we should remove you from London immediately. Miss Hollsworth – now your aunt Gardiner – offered to stay to assist with Jane until she recovered. Jane did not recover enough to remove from London for another two weeks."

Mrs. Gardiner laid a hand on Elizabeth's. "In a way, as much tragedy as there was that summer, it permitted me to meet your uncle, and to find you, Elizabeth, and those are two things I cannot but be grateful for."

Elizabeth's brain kicked into gear finally. "You expect me to believe… all this?" She wrenched her hands from her fa – Mr. Bennet's. "If it is the truth, how have I not heard this before?" She pulled away from Jane and Mrs. Gardiner. "How could you?"

"Lizzy?" Jane said quietly. She was silently weeping; Elizabeth recalled the silent tears from the day that Grandma Bennet had passed. Her heart twisted, and she could do nothing but reach out to Jane, who held on to her tightly. "You are my sister. No one is going to take you away from me. I promise." Jane, dear, sweet, gentle Jane, sounded as fierce and possessive as Lydia ever could about a bonnet of Kitty's.

Mr. Gardiner spoke. "Even after Jane recovered, Dr. Hollsworth kept in touch with us, but no response was ever made to the notice in the paper. After a while, we mostly chose to forget you had not been born to our family, Lizzy. We never told you, because we never expected it to be necessary information; it was not like we knew where you had come from. I promise, if any of us had, we would have returned you to your proper family."

"We are her proper family; we have been her family these last 17 years." Jane was still fierce and protective. "If she remembers no other, then we are her family."

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy broke in. He looked quite affected, himself. "I assure you, it is not my aunt's intention to take Elizabeth away from the Bennets. She has already told both Fitzwilliam and myself," he nodded to his cousin, "repeatedly, that she intends to give Elizabeth all her rightful dues, and hopes to be part of her life from now on; but she will not demand to be the only family Elizabeth recognizes." Jane could only nod at such a truce. He looked at Mr. Bennet. "And for my part, you are her family as much as we are, if not more so. As such, Mr. Bennet, I hope you and Lady Catherine will agree to share joint custody of Elizabeth until she is of age; and even after, that you will acknowledge our family as yours, as well."

Mr. Bennet nodded. "I will admit, Mr. Darcy, that my only concern is for Lizzy and my other daughters. I care little what the de Bourghs, Darcys and Fitzwilliams think on the matter, other than that they know that Lizzy will always be my daughter." Here he glanced at her, and added softly, "Even if she chooses to remove herself from us, as punishment for being too cowardly to tell her before necessity required it."

Elizabeth – still angry, still hurt – could not withstand the fear and trepidation in his expression and voice. "Oh, papa." She pulled away from Jane, and hugged her father. "We have never finished Virgil's Aeneid; certainly I can't disassociate from you until then!"

Mr. Bennet laughed, as did most everyone in the room, albeit most of them sounded strained. "Then I shall endeavour to misplace that book once again, my dear; for I had just found it, in hopes I could convince you home a few weeks sooner – but now I see it shall have to disappear again."

A light note to end the conversation; that was all Elizabeth wanted at this point. She was nearly on the point of excusing herself for a walk, so that she may be able to hide and think on everything. Mr. Collins and Sir William, however, returned, and their news forestalled her departure. "Lady Catherine, in her benevolence, has asked that Mr. Bennet and the Gardiners stay at Rosings for the night."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner glanced at each other. "I am afraid," Mr. Gardiner responded, "we shall have to decline such an invitation. We only came to tell Lizzy our parts of her story – what we know of it – before returning to London." He glanced at Elizabeth. "We also thought to offer you a trip with us to the Lake Country this summer before anyone else can claim a month of your time then; but we will understand if you feel you must decline."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It sounds beautiful and wonderful," she smiled at them. "Of course I will go."

"What about travelling to Lambton, so that Mrs. Gardiner can see her old friends?" Mr. Darcy broke in.

"Oh?" Mrs. Gardiner replied.

"As a de Bourgh, your niece was left a small estate; I have been managing it on Lady Catherine's behalf since I took over the management of Pemberley. I had already offered to let her come to Pemberley this summer, so that I may show her the estate and the books for it. You could come as well, and make a family party of it, and stay at Pemberley." Here he glanced at Jane. "Mr. and Mrs. Hurst will have returned from visiting his family at that point, and intend to join Mr. and Miss Bingley at my estate." He looked at Elizabeth. "I am sure you would prefer to have Miss Bennet with you, for a second opinion on the estate."

Elizabeth could not help but beam at him for such a suggestion, which elicited that same expression she had now seen on Mr. Darcy's face directed at her twice, but she barely thought of it. Two birds – or more? – with one stone, she thought to herself. "Indeed, such a plan would do nicely. I believe I speak for both Jane and myself, that we should like to meet Mr. and Miss Bingley as well as the Hursts again." She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who were looking between herself and Jane, who looked both relieved Elizabeth was determined to include her in such plans, and slightly anxious at the thought of meeting Mr. Bingley again.

"I do believe that would be a fine idea," Mr. Gardiner declared after a glance at his wife. "We shall have to determine the particulars later, as I truly must return to London; I must be at the warehouse on the morrow."

"Then you should leave," Mr. Bennet answered. "We will see you off before we go to Rosings as Lady Catherine requests."

Mr. Collins was ecstatic that they would call on her directly – for he would be able to see his patroness at least twice today! After the Gardiners departed, he chattered non-stop about the beauties of 'Miss Elizabeth's ancestral home.'

Elizabeth, on the other hand, had to consider much deeper subjects, and she could tell that Mr. Bennet and Jane both were likewise occupied

Posted on 2008-07-09

Lady Catherine met the party as close to the door as she dared; she could not be accused of loitering in her own house, but anywhere else, it would have been a different story. The sight of Lady Catherine hurriedly straightening herself from leaning against a wall was almost enough to elicit a laugh from Elizabeth. Almost, but the stifled, abortive movement of Elizabeth's, so familiar to her, was enough to let the slightest bit of tension slip out of Jane's body. Elizabeth was dealing better than she would have expected.

In her impatience, Lady Catherine made an educated guess as to the identity of those she did not know. "Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet. Welcome to Rosings; I trust your journey from Hertfordshire and London was no more eventful than required?"

Mr. Bennet sketched a bow, even as the party moved further into the parlour. "If an express from one such as yourself, madam, can be called uneventful, then that is true." Jane said nothing but curtseyed in greeting.

Lady Catherine waved a hand at the girl already seated in the room. "This is my elder daughter, Anne." Miss de Bourgh seemed nearly fretful in her anxiousness to cut to the heart of the matter, but her mother stilled her with a stern glance.

"I shall not sport with your impatience," Mr. Bennet launched into the topic at hand. "But before we go any further, I should like to see this portrait you wrote about."

Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh seemed disappointed Mr. Bennet would not speak of it immediately, but Lady Catherine agreed, and the party once again journeyed to the gallery to the portrait. Mr. Bennet had pointedly taken Elizabeth's arm before Mr. Darcy got a chance; Mr. Darcy was forced to content himself with escorting Jane. Jane – torn between worried possessiveness for Elizabeth, and amusement with how inattentive Mr. Darcy was without Elizabeth on his arm – did not attempt to distract her escort from his thoughts, mostly because of how obviously his attention was focused on Elizabeth.

A few bruised toes, Jane thought to herself, were well worth the chance at seeing just how school-boy lovesick the quiet Mr. Darcy could be. Charlotte had always maintained to Jane that Mr. Darcy was fair on the way to being in love with Elizabeth – it seemed the belief that she was now properly of his sphere had been all that was required to tip the man head over heels for her most beloved sister. The look of affection on her escort's face predictably brought up a painful wave of memory – how Mr. Bingley had looked at her in such a way as well! Jane vowed to herself that Elizabeth would not be jilted as she had been, and the moment she got a chance to tell this to Mr. Darcy in no uncertain terms, she would. Lizzy was her little sister, and by G-d she was going to take care of her.

A gasp from her father abruptly pulled Jane out of her mediations. She looked up at the portrait, pulling her arm away from Mr. Darcy, barely knowing what she did. She looked between the portrait and Elizabeth, once, twice, thrice. She wavered, feeling a tad faint; she had put so much hope into the idea that – even if Elizabeth was adopted into the Bennet family, as seemed to be the case, with no way for her to argue out of it – she would still have only her as an elder sister, that her family was long gone and not looking for her. Elizabeth was looking between her father and Jane, anxiously waiting for a more substantive reaction. With her free hand, Elizabeth timidly reached out to Jane, whose immediate reaction was to step close and hold her tightly as Mr. Bennet released her, and she coaxed Elizabeth's head to her shoulder, whispering in her ear. "Still my little sister, Lizzy. Still my little sister." Elizabeth sagged slightly, as if she had been terrified that – regardless of what Jane had said only half an hour earlier –Jane would suddenly want nothing to do with her. She suspected that, had they been the only two in the room, Elizabeth would have been crying from relief. She happened to catch sight of Anne de Bourgh's face as she half-cradled Elizabeth; it was a mix of wistfulness, grief, and longing, and for just a moment, Jane felt guilty for being so possessive of Elizabeth.

Mr. Bennet's voice broke the silence, and cracked while doing so. "I cannot tell you for sure if my Lizzy is your Elizabeth, Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh. She was a foundling from an orphanage; the rest of the story, your nephews have heard, what little is known of her past stems from that point." Elizabeth stiffened in Jane's arms, but Jane kept whispering soothing nothings. Perhaps, Jane thought, Elizabeth was putting on a good show; but she still felt an irrational twinge of anger at Charlotte for inviting Elizabeth to Hunsford, and at her cousin for having taken Lady Catherine's living, for surely if neither of those two things had happened, Lizzy would not have had to confront this – well, not for several more months, Jane amended to herself, with a glance at Mr. Darcy, whose attention was quite fixed on Elizabeth's reaction to the seeming capitulation of Mr. Bennet.

With a shuddering breath, Elizabeth pulled away from Jane, supporting her own weight again. She stepped a little bit away from the group as a whole, and Jane half-smiled at the involuntary step Mr. Darcy took in her direction. She had no idea if Elizabeth's opinion of the man had changed, but there was little that she could do to determine that at this moment. She wondered if Mr. Darcy realized how obvious he was being in front of his own family – but, then, she reminded herself, it appeared Elizabeth was his own family now.

"Elizabeth?" Lady Catherine asked quietly.

Jane watched as her sister – normally so quick with words and ideas – struggled for them now. Elizabeth half-turned towards Mr. Bennet. "I do not know what to think or what to say or what to believe," Elizabeth answered haphazardly. "I do not want this to… adversely affect Jane or my other sisters." She gave Mr. Bennet a desperate glance. "What if Lady Catherine and you announce my 'astounding' recovery, and they blame you, sir, for my going missing? Even if everything was documented correctly and completely, surely there will be talk that you had kidnapped me in your grief, or commissioned someone to do so on your behalf, Papa." The words seemed to trip heedlessly on their own. "I cannot bear the thought of sacrificing you and Mama and Jane and all the rest for material comforts."

Lady Catherine and Mr. Bennet alike seemed stunned by the suggestion. Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. "If – when – we announce it to the world at large, Elizabeth, I will do everything in my power to ensure the Bennets are not adversely affected by such talk."

"But do you not see?" Elizabeth pleaded. "We do not know how or why I went missing – it is entirely possible there is no one still alive who does. I myself cannot recall. A kidnapping of some sort would be just the sort of… romantic idea that would take root heedless of any remonstrance, even from you or Mr. Darcy. And the Bennets' prospects are too few and frail to survive such scandal."

Jane listened in growing astonishment as she realized Elizabeth was arguing to remain a Bennet. She knew how distasteful Lizzy often found Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty's behaviour – she would have thought that on some level, Lizzy would be thrilled to no longer be associated by blood.

Mr. Collins, on the other hand, took great offence that Elizabeth would think that his patroness could not sway the opinion of all of London, and he began to almost-scold her.

"Then you agree that the evidence points to you being a de Bourgh?" Mr. Darcy interjected. Mr. Collins almost swallowed his tongue to keep from talking over him.

Elizabeth's countenance became mask-like, even as her back straightened and her chin came up defiantly – a reaction Jane had not seen in years. "I cannot argue with my being a foundling, if my father insists it to be the truth. And I cannot argue against the fact that I could be almost the sister of the man in that portrait in looks."

"That does not sound like an agreement to me, Lizzy," her father gave her a pointed look.

Elizabeth shrugged, the mask breaking a little. "I do not know what to think, Papa. The only thing I know for sure is that – even if I can be convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt – there are those who will not be, and who will either think me a fortune hunter preying on Lady Catherine's past, or think you a criminal, a kidnapper." She finally looked Lady Catherine in the face. "I am not convinced that the benefits of claiming me as your lost daughter, Lady Catherine, will outweigh the damage to everyone I care about."

"Then I believe a strategy must be devised," Mr. Darcy said, before Lady Catherine could respond.

Elizabeth paused, her head tilted slightly as she looked at Mr. Darcy. "And do you have any immediate suggestions?"

Mr. Darcy did not answer instantly. "None that would work, not yet. It will have to be something to be meditated upon." He glanced at Elizabeth then Mr. Bennet. "And while we wait for ideas to simmer and thicken to usefulness, I suggest we tend to the other matter." His glance back at Elizabeth was expressive enough for her to understand. She inclined her head in agreement. "A smaller party for that discussion, I think," he added to Lady Catherine who pursed her lips in agreement.

Mrs. Collins picked up the cue immediately. "My husband and I should be returning to the parsonage. We have left my father and Maria there alone for long enough." Mr. Collins looked downcast at being removed from Lady Catherine's presence so soon, but nothing he said to her encouraged an invitation to stay longer.

Lady Catherine, instead of encouraging her parson, led the group to the library, and bade a servant to return with minor refreshments. The conversation in the room was light banter, mostly between Mr. Bennet and Colonel Fitzwilliam, regarding the books on the shelves, until the servant withdrew for good. Colonel Fitzwilliam's demeanour abruptly changed.

"How did you meet Wickham?" The normally genial man was scowling now.

"He took a lieutenantship in the militia quartering in Hertfordshire shortly after I arrived in the neighbourhood myself," Mr. Darcy supplied.

"Do we know this was not on purpose?" Fitzwilliam asked.

Mr. Darcy shrugged. "Impossible to tell with Wickham, but I doubt it. I do not bandy my affairs about to be seen; I certainly had not spoken to anyone but my host, my sister, and my steward as to where I was going."

The colonel drummed his fingers on the table in front of him. "Does not mean that sister of Bingley's did not crow it about her cronies, though." Jane's eyes went wide at such a rude description of Miss Bingley's behaviour. Elizabeth, on the other hand, stifled a derisive snort of her own. Mr. Bennet did not feel the need to stifle his, and the colonel looked amused when he finally noticed Jane's expression.

"May I ask what this discussion is regarding, if not Elizabeth's heritage?" Mr. Bennet asked.

Fitzwilliam and Darcy exchanged quick glances, and Darcy inclined his head towards his cousin. Fitzwilliam bared his teeth in a non-grin for just a second. "Mrs. Collins mentioned that an… old acquaintance of ours, a Mr. George Wickham, had made himself quite pleasant to the populace of Hertfordshire."

"And given that I have had some confirmation of his usual ways when he and I are in near residence – namely, yarning – I thought it would be prudent to tell my cousin," Mr. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth sharply, "and her father the real history of Mr. Wickham."

"He is an amusing fellow, to be sure," Mr. Bennet replied dryly, "but my daughters are too poor to be objects of prey to anyone."

Mr. Darcy's response was sardonic. "If one is shopping the horse market to buy, perhaps. But not if one is just… trying out the stock."

Mr. Bennet's eyes narrowed, even as Jane gasped. "And if that be the case, why were at least your closest neighbours not warned when you knew of his arrival?"

Mr. Darcy flinched. "I… felt it beneath me, to open my private affairs up to the general public; not to mention the worst of it (from my point of view, at least) cannot be known to the public, not without damaging someone very close to me." He looked quite agitated, and Jane felt sorry for him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam touched Mr. Darcy's shoulder lightly. "Let me tell the story, Darce." Darcy nodded his agreement, and Fitzwilliam sighed, picking up his glass, and leaned back in his chair a bit. "Mr. Wickham was the son of my Uncle Darcy's steward. Old Wickham was a right smart man, a good steward; my father even tried to hire him away; but Old Wickham was loyal to a fault to my uncle. His son, however, was a failure.

"My uncle was Wickham's godfather, and he took the responsibility seriously. Darcy, Wickham, myself, and several of the Fitzwilliam cousins played together as children. Somewhere along the way, Wickham… strayed."

"I was never certain if he grew jealous, while my father and his father groomed the lot of us for running estates properly – he was grooming Wickham to take his father's place when the old man died, and thus he learned what I did about estate management – perhaps he thought he was being treated in such a way because he was going to inherit one of the satellite estates." Darcy interjected.

"I know at one point he had alluded to an idea that he was your father's natural son," Anne sighed.

"He what?" Darcy replied, startled.

"The last time he came here," Anne explained, "with your party, he must have been very bored, to flirt with me. He tried to convince me he was higher-born than a steward's son, and that your father must have had some reason for treating him like one of his own."

Darcy glowered, and Fitzwilliam sighed. "I should have expected as much," Fitzwilliam said, "but somehow I had hoped he would not go that far."
"If he really believes that, instead of just using that to try to convince Anne to marry him," Darcy added, "then it makes some of his offences even graver."

"Indeed," Fitzwilliam replied.

"His… offences?" Elizabeth asked.

"My uncle died five years ago, and left Wickham a legacy of one thousand pounds; Wickham's own father followed shortly thereafter. Uncle Darcy recommended it in his will that Wickham be giving a particularly valuable living should he go into the church."

"Thankfully for us," Lady Catherine added, "that boy decided he was too good for the church. The stories I heard in Lambton of him did not indicate someone who should have been allowed in the church to begin with." Jane caught an amused expression on both Elizabeth's and Mr. Bennet's faces. Even she had to admit, only to herself, that was a bit of an outlandish statement coming from the patroness of Mr. Collins. Not that Mr. Collins was a bad man, just a foolish one.

"Indeed," Fitzwilliam agreed. "He asked Darcy for three thousand pounds – made some squawking about wanting to study the law, which a thousand pounds would not be enough to support him for. In return, he relinquished support in the church."

"I wished, rather than believed him to be sincere in the idea," Mr. Darcy sighed. "He did not study the law; when the living became open, he came to me, hoping to be granted the living the second time around. He said he had found the law to be quite unprofitable, and now hoped to make his future within the church. He assured me his circumstances were quite bad, and that I could well believe."

"Can we not all believe that?" Anne muttered.

"He was quite abusive when we turned him down," Fitzwilliam added. "I have to admit, some of his invective was quite inspired."

"We?" Mr. Bennet asked.

"Fitzwilliam and I share custody of my sister, and he was one of the executors of my father's will," Darcy replied.

"That was a somewhat unexpected honour," Fitzwilliam said, seemingly to himself. "But it means," he added with a glance at Darcy, "I have been acquainted with the particulars of the transactions.

"Obviously, after such a situation, Darcy dropped all appearance of acquaintance with Wickham. The Fitzwilliam clan, at least, was spared Wickham attempting to latch on to one of us instead."

"Last summer, however, he returned, in a most painful manner," Darcy said.

"We never should have let her go," Fitzwilliam muttered. "I failed her, there."

"If you did, I did as well, Richard," Darcy replied. He looked at Elizabeth. "Regardless of what Miss Bingley says about her, my sister is a shy creature, the fault, I believe, of being the youngest in the extended family and no playmates to have grown up with. She was excited by the idea of going to Ramsgate for a summer, on holiday; we let her go with a companion by the name of Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were cruelly deceived.

"She only had warm childhood memories of Mr. Wickham; it never occurred to me to tell her the truth about him. With Mrs. Younge's aid and active assistance, he was able to recommend himself to my sister, convince her she was in love, and agree to an elopement. She was then but fifteen."

Here Mr. Bennet, who had been following but disinterestedly, shot straight up in his seat. Jane felt faint. Elizabeth whispered something to herself – Jane could not be sure what it was, but she thought it was "Lydia!"

"Darcy had the greatest luck, that day. He left the group he was with – which included myself – quite suddenly, wanting to visit Georgiana, quite out of the blue." Fitzwilliam sighed. "I had actually attempted to talk him out of it; however he prevailed and it is certainly one instance I have never begrudged him."

Darcy and Fitzwilliam exchanged ironic half-bows. "I arrived but two days before the intended elopement, and Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looks up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. I do not have words for my reaction."

"I can certainly imagine what it was," Mr. Bennet said. "What of Wickham?"

"I could not publicly denounce him, of course, for my sister's sake, but I wrote to him, and he left immediately. Mrs. Younge was removed from her charge," he replied.

Mr. Bennet nodded, before leaning back in his chair, fixing a firm eye on Darcy. "Then may I ask, why now? Some of this could have been communicated to me months ago, particularly given the age of my youngest. At least enough to put me on my guard."

Darcy flinched again. "You are my cousin's adopted father. Perforce, I consider you family, and – despite how much I would rather ignore Wickham's existence – family must at least be told some of the worst."

"Then it was avoidance? Not the most responsible of actions," Mr. Bennet replied.

Mr. Darcy flushed – with anger or embarrassment, Jane could not tell, but she felt his discomfort acutely. Jane looked at her father beseechingly; Mr. Darcy did not have to tell them anything, and he was not responsible for Wickham. "Perhaps Mr. Darcy was attempting to let Mr. Wickham re-establish himself with some measure of credit, so he would not be in such desperate circumstances," she offered.

Mr. Darcy sighed. "Thank you for trying to give me more credit than I am due, Miss Bennet. But the reality was… I was too selfish, hoping if I ignored the problem, it would go away, and if I did not speak to him directly, I could pretend he was not there."

"And instead, you risked letting another girl fall into his trap. One who may not be as fortunate as your sister," Mr. Bennet replied.

Darcy turned one hand palm up and opened it – a gesture of defeat and acknowledgment, but he could say nothing else.

"I hope that the intelligence still comes in time to prevent that, Mr. Bennet," Anne offered. "I knew enough of his ways to dislike him quite heartily, even before he attempted to hurt Georgiana."

"It is believed he will be engaged to a Miss King, within the next week or two," Mr. Bennet responded. He frowned. "She inherited ten thousand pounds a month or two ago, when her grandfather died, and I believe that was when he began to court her." Mr. Bennet's eyes flicked towards Elizabeth for confirmation.

She shrugged, trying to hide her uneasiness that she would be the one to confirm such behaviour. "I would say he gave her a week after the event." Why had I not noticed this before? she wondered to herself. At the time, it had seemed innocently enough done and rational enough…

The de Bourghs and Fitzwilliam glanced at Darcy in concert. Darcy looked torn – "Is it possible," he ventured, "that the most… minor of his crimes would be enough to persuade her family to prevent such an event?"

"If you have, say, the documents to prove he left Lambton's merchants in debt – I am going to assume, given the responsibility for his actions the Darcy family seems to have taken on, you discharged those – that may be enough," Mr. Bennet conceded. "Miss King's uncle owns the bookshop, although few realize it is his, as a matter of fact – it may be more than enough, if it seems to be jibing with his shop's books or the merchants' gossip."

Jane was the only one who noticed Anne de Bourgh's sudden distraction, the frown of concentration and narrowing eyes flicking, as if trying to recall some faded fragment of memory, at least at first. Elizabeth soon saw it, and her attention focused Darcy's as well. It was Fitzwilliam who asked gently, "Anne, what is it?"

She startled, and her attention focused outward on her cousin. "All this talk of Wickham has… almost reminded me of something. And I am trying to place what." Abruptly, she sat up straight, excitement in her face. "The pony! Richard, William, the pony! The one your father bought, William – George had stayed here a week longer than you had – remember? He had been supposed to stay longer to acquaint himself with the local families, because father thought if he did not become a steward, he could take the living at Rosings instead of Pemberley. Your father took him home, after he came to help us after Papa died. We never thought to ask him about what happened to Elizabeth!"

Posted on 2008-07-16

Later, Elizabeth would think to describe the behaviour of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as that of bloodhounds given a whiff of something interesting. It took the combined efforts of all the ladies and Mr. Bennet's obvious exhaustion to rein in their enthusiasm about going to Hertfordshire to 'ask' Mr. Wickham about that day at Rosings, seventeen years ago. Elizabeth had particularly exerted herself in the persuasion – while she did not doubt they were both well-bred gentlemen, there was something in each man's expression that made her feel distinctly uneasy. She pointed out that however horrible his behaviour in the recent past, it was highly doubtful that even if he had anything to do with the situation, it had been done so with malicious intent. She did not notice that Darcy had capitulated into agreeing to delay such an action at least until the morrow only after she had specifically asked him to do so – perhaps, she had reasoned, something could be done to summon Wickham here, to Rosings, if he had been involved, being in the house should surely jar his memory. She did notice that even as Darcy – well, William, as Anne had pointed out in the midst of the semi-debate, she was Darcy's cousin, and could address him by his given name, and demanded the same for herself (as her sister) and Richard as well – capitulated, Lady Catherine had a very thoughtful expression on her face, and kept glancing between her and Dar – William. Whatever that may be about.

Accordingly, the party had broken up into its pieces; Lady Catherine pressed Mr. Bennet and Miss Bennet to stay at Rosings, but both demurred, stating that Mrs. Collins had offered them lodgings at least for the night.

"Then," Lady Catherine sniffed, "I shall send a note to Mrs. Collins to see if she can do without her guests for the time being, so that my daughter can move into her proper household, even if for a short duration. I will invite them to dinner tonight, and you all must stay; surely Mr. Collins will not wish to miss an evening at Rosings."

Elizabeth wanted to argue with this course of action, and even opened her mouth to do so, but Mr. Bennet shot her a look and she subsided. He responded, "For now, madam, I should dearly enjoy a few hours to rest myself. I believe that Lizzy and Jane have had an emotional day, and at least one of them needs a turn or four out-of-doors." Elizabeth could wholeheartedly agree to that statement, and it was decided that while Lady Catherine dispatched her note to the parsonage, Elizabeth and Jane would go walking – with William and Richard escorting them. Elizabeth was not terribly pleased with the arrangement, but she would not gainsay her father, Jane and Lady Catherine all at once. One would almost think that they were frightened someone would kidnap her now. Mr. Bennet would be shown to a guest room in the family wing; Lady Catherine set about picking a room for Elizabeth, and Jane as well, should Mrs. Collins agree to her wishes.

Thankfully, Anne – who must have realized Elizabeth truly needed time to think alone – interceded a little and convinced Richard that Elizabeth would be safe enough with both William and Jane with her. As an aside, Anne asked Jane's permission to call her by her given name, saying that they were sisters in an odd, roundabout way, due to Elizabeth being a sister to them both. Jane's little flicker of guilt over being so possessive as to want Elizabeth to only have the Bennets as her sisters made itself known again, and she agreed with Anne.

Elizabeth, thus found herself able to stroll along the lane, as Dar – William and Jane walked a few steps behind her, and as much as she could, she gave way to consideration.

It seemed what she had said earlier was true – as long as Mr. Bennet insisted on her history of being a foundling, as much as she would like to argue against it, she could not. And, with that information, she also could not disagree that she did favour the de Bourghs in appearance, abnormally so. Then there were all the little tidbits Lady Catherine and Anne had mentioned about their Elizabeth – for a personality not yet formed, she did show quite a few of the same little preferences and tendencies as that child of three.

She felt divided – she loved her family, even when she despaired of them – yet she could not be untouched by the insistence of the de Bourghs, William and Richard about claiming her as their own. William's previous offer of a truce underscored her suspicion that Anne, Richard, and Lady Catherine were quite desperate to approve of her – that they were willing to love her as family, while still so barely knowing her. But what of Richard's family? Would the earl be so willing to welcome her open-armed as his son – and would he welcome the Bennets as extended family, by their relationship to her? She did not know if there were more Darcys to consider beyond Georgiana; perhaps they, too, may be unwilling to accept her into the fold, as it were. She made a note to herself to mention to Richard and William that the earl's opinion should be canvassed as well, perhaps even prior to the long-overdue discussion with Wickham.

She could acknowledge that Wickham's character had sunk upon every review of the information provided to her – and she had no reason to doubt Anne or Richard's parts of the tale, even if she could still find it in her to doubt William's role in the matter. But the concern for his sister, the guilt in his expression as he admitted his failures to his neighbours in Hertfordshire – that, if nothing else, convinced her he spoke the truth as he saw it. Guilt did not ride upon those who lied easily. Selfish, then, she could see both Wickham and Darcy sharing that trait – she pondered for a moment, the similarities between the men – was it possible Wickham believed, or even knew, he was William's half-brother? They did seem to share a few traits, but those could be discounted to a degree by being raised in the same household. Would not Mr. Darcy have told his son, if that were the case, or taken greater care to ensure his illegitimate son was brought up to be a good, wholesome sort of man?

Her mind digressed further – Richard had said something about Wickham straying, and now she wondered when that occurred. If it had only happened after her disappearance, then perhaps it was as Anne hypothesized – Wickham knew some of those happenings, and if he had started out a good, honest sort of boy, such a terrible secret could easily turn his entire character bad as he sought to either divest himself of the guilt, or to do something just to be caught and forced into a confession he could not make on his own. And if that were the case, could the restoration of Elizabeth de Bourgh cause the redemption of George Wickham? She was Christian enough to hope he was not beyond amendment, although she had not Jane's goodness to trust in it.

Not all the questions that crowded in on her consciousness could be answered yet; some would have to remain deferred until more information was gathered. Still, she felt more at ease, her equilibrium restored as much as it could be under such circumstances. She glanced back to William and Jane, who seemed to be discussing something intently. She slowed her pace for them to catch up, but as soon as Jane noticed she had paused, the discussion ended. She narrowed her eyes at her sister, who returned the look with an expression of utmost innocence. That she did not believe, but she did not feel it appropriate, badgering her sister for the contents of their discussion. One or the other would tell her… eventually, at least.

Jane was quietly relieved that Elizabeth did not press the issue – she still did not know her sister's feelings on the subject, but it would certainly not further the gentleman's suit for Lizzy to know that Jane had just roundly, pre-emptively scolded him, if he dared tried to trifle with Elizabeth. On the other hand, Jane reflected, it might arouse her sympathies for Mr. Darcy; that may not be such a bad thing.

When Mr. Darcy had offered Jane his arm as they set out, she had accepted, knowing that Elizabeth would not – and this would give her the ability to slow his pace enough that Elizabeth could at least pretend she was alone and could sink into her own thoughts. Indeed, when Jane did lag behind, at first Darcy had frowned and made to disengage his arm to catch up with Elizabeth. "No, Mr. Darcy – give her some room. If she is half as conflicted and confused as I am, she needs it. She always did work things out better on her own, out on a walk," Jane spoke as quietly as she could, hoping Elizabeth would not hear her.

Mr. Darcy's expression had showed his doubt of the wisdom of such an idea plainly, but he did not entirely gainsay her. "If you think, Miss Bennet, that is the best idea …" his voice trailed off on a note of disbelief.

"It is," she assured him, even as more distance opened up. "It is something you should learn about her now, if you intend to pursue her."

That got his attention, and he nearly stopped dead in his tracks, his expression vulnerable and open for a moment. He recovered quickly. "What makes you think I have any interest besides cousinly concern for Elizabeth?"

Jane smiled sadly. "Mr. Darcy, if Mr. Bingley's attentions to me had raised my hopes so easily, I dare say Elizabeth would be in a similar danger of disappointment, based on your actions these past hours, should they continue – if she did not actively dislike you, as I know she did at least of last week."

He flinched. "I… discovered, just yesterday actually, that her opinion of me was far worse than I had imagined." He glanced at Jane in chagrin. "I had thought she was aware of my interest in Hertfordshire, and was at least welcoming of our acquaintance."

"Then perhaps you ought to be more guarded in what you say in a public assembly," Jane replied.

His expression was blank for a moment, then he flushed. "That – I –" he stumbled for words. "I was not in a mood for even being in public; my uncle, the earl, had almost forced me to leave Georgiana in his care for a few months, to give us time to recuperate from Wickham's actions apart. My uncle appeared to be of the belief that we were feeding each other's anxiety over the situation, and some time apart with friends or family might put a damper on the reactions. Bingley had all but demanded I attend; I could not insult my host by keeping to my rooms."

Jane felt herself flinch ever so slightly at such a casual mention of Bingley. Mr. Darcy's frown of concern showed it had not gone unnoticed. "Miss Bennet, are you well?"

"I am – well enough," she replied. "I am torn between treating you as a cousin of my own, or simply an acquaintance."

"I would that you treat me as a cousin," Mr. Darcy replied. "Elizabeth is of a concern to us both; surely with such a point of mutual commonality, we cannot be merely acquaintances?"

Jane inclined her head in agreement. "How… easily her name falls from your tongue, Mr. Darcy. You sound as if you have been practicing calling her by her given name for quite some time." He blushed and looked away from her. Yes, now was the time, Jane decided. "I suspect you would not be averse to becoming my brother."

His voice was low. "Am I so obvious, Miss Bennet?"

"Perhaps not to Elizabeth – but I suspect that more than myself have noticed, just since I have arrived in Kent. I am particularly sure that Lady Catherine has noticed your focus," she replied. He winced, but she continued, her voice becoming as stern as it did when she attempted to scold Lydia. "I was not jesting when I said what I did about Mr. Bingley raising hopes – but I swear, by all that's holy, if you dare trifle with Elizabeth –"

He raised a hand to stop her. "I have no such intentions, I promise. I –" he stopped.

"Yes?" she prodded.

Still he hesitated. "I had already decided, should I meet her again, I would offer for her," he admitted. "Her active intelligence alone would make her a valuable asset to the Darcy estates, certainly more so than most women of my acquaintance."

Jane could not help but smile, even as she felt a twinge of heartache for herself. Why had not Mr. Bingley come to the same decision?

"I have a confession to make," Mr. Darcy added.

"Yes?"

"When I left Hertfordshire in November, I spoke to Bingley about you" – she flinched and steeled herself for something terrible indeed, remembering the way Caroline Bingley had treated her – "I told him then that I thought you were but slightly touched, but I feared his honour could be considered to be engaged from the obviousness of his actions."

Jane felt both hurt and soothed – at least Mr. Darcy had even noticed she was touched at all; Charlotte had always told her she should be more forward to Bingley. "And what did he say?"

"I told him my reasons for thinking the match was not good for him – I swear, I thought only of his happiness – but counselled him to consider his options." Here Darcy flinched yet again. "He agreed to think on it for a week, but then Mr. and Mrs. Hurst went to visit his relations, and Miss Bingley was determined her brother must be her escort to the various goings-on in London." He glanced down at her. "My sister is not out, I will add."

Jane no longer knew how she felt – a rueful, bitter elation, perhaps, may be the description to use. "Does he… does he ever talk about me?" her voice trembled slightly.

"Not recently," she noticed he sounded regretful at relaying that information, "but his spirits are as depressed as they have been since the end of November." They walked in silence for a few more moments, before Darcy spoke again. "If we remove the entire Rosings party to Hertfordshire – perhaps I can convince Bingley to reopen Netherfield so that my aunt and cousins will be more at ease; if I am not mistaken, Longbourn cannot hold quite such a large party."

"No, indeed, particularly not if your uncle, the earl, also journeys to Hertfordshire," Jane replied, trying to keep the little ember of hope in her heart from turning into something greater.

"Hmm," was Darcy's only reply, for Jane had just realized Elizabeth had stopped her private ruminations and was waiting for them to catch up. This time, when Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, she hesitated only a moment before taking it, and Darcy nearly beamed.

"What will the earl say?" Elizabeth asked Darcy.

"About?" he replied.

"About my recovery… about my intention to retain my relations with the Bennets," she clarified.

Darcy could only shrug. "I cannot say for sure – we will know when we apply to him."

"Should he be contacted now?" Jane asked.

"Perhaps," Darcy conceded. "I will speak to Lady Catherine, Mr. Bennet, and Richard when we return to the main house – we will see what the consensus is. Richard should be able to give us an idea what to expect, I would think." He glanced down at Elizabeth. "What will you choose if he demands that you give them up?"

Jane stiffened, and Elizabeth gave her a worried glance. "My intentions and wishes have not changed; the Bennets are my family. If Lady Catherine –"

"She would like you to call her 'mother', I am sure," Darcy interjected.

Elizabeth frowned slightly. "'Mother' remains Mrs. Bennet to my mind, I shall … I shall have to think on what to call Lady Catherine. Formality remains a safe option." She shrugged. "But if Lady Catherine chooses to agree with her brother, I shall not agree to be recognized as her daughter. Even if she disagrees with him, I may try to convince her to do so – at least publicly. I would hate to disrupt the family in such a way, but the lot of you have gotten along without me for seventeen years – continuing on without me will not destroy you all."

"We shall not give you up any more than you wish to give up the Bennets," Darcy's countenance had clouded in dismay, but his determination was clear. "And I know I do not speak solely for myself."

Elizabeth shrugged, her eyes worried. "It may have to be kept quiet, then, although if your and Richard's reaction to seeing me beside Anne is any indication, some explanation would be required for the general public."

"That would be a minor concern," Darcy sighed. "Her health is such that she has but rarely been in public."

Jane felt even sorrier for her semi-cousin/rival for Elizabeth's sisterly affection. "Is she truly so ill?"

"As a child, she was not, but she was… extremely attached to her little sister, more so than perhaps even Sir Lewis was," Darcy replied, his eyes flicking at Elizabeth. "She has never recovered from the blow; I suspect the resulting depression made her susceptible to catching the most trifling of illnesses, but in her, they were magnified to something much worse."

Elizabeth frowned, her expression troubled, but she said nothing. For herself, Jane felt terrible about being so possessive of Elizabeth, but she could no more imagine stepping aside and letting Anne take her place in Elizabeth's heart than she could imagine not protecting Elizabeth to the best of her ability.

Chapter 12

Posted on 2008-07-23

”Rosings, Kent
Saturday, March 9

Dear Father,

You are, of course, aware that my aunt summoned Darcy and me to Rosings early this year, but did not provide us with a reason for doing so, only that it was a matter of utmost importance.

For once, she was not exaggerating: my cousin, Elizabeth, has been found.

Her story is an odd one; her discovery a coincidence. She is now known as Miss Elizabeth Bennet of the Longbourn estate in Hertfordshire; her adoptive father, Mr. Bennet, has confirmed for Darcy and me (and Elizabeth) that she was a foundling – in London. His cousin is my aunt's new parson, Mr. Collins, and Mrs. Collins is a great friend to our Elizabeth. Mrs. Collins invited Elizabeth to Hunsford, and my aunt recognized her as soon as she was introduced. Indeed, when beside Darcy and Anne, she looks like the finest mixture of the de Bourghs and Fitzwilliams; there is little mistaking her for anything but a de Bourgh, although I can well understand how Darcy, who met her around Michaelmas, did not recognize her until he saw her beside Anne.

Elizabeth is, naturally, very confused and upset at this point, for until this occurrence, she had not known anything of her history, although she is handling the situation with aplomb worthy of a Fitzwilliam. She apparently has no recollection of any life but that at Longbourn. As such, they are the only family she knows, and she is very insistent that, as the 'price' of her agreeing to be recognized as Lady Catherine's lost daughter, she must not be forced to give up the Bennets. Her insistence may seem unseemly, but as one who has witnessed the very strong affection she holds for the family that raised her, I, myself, cannot hold it against her. She – Elizabeth, that is – has requested to know what your opinion and outlook on this subject will be. She is quite determined, and while I know little of the other Bennets, both Mr. Bennet and Miss Bennet are well mannered gentlefolk, even if below our normal sphere. Darcy will not describe the younger sisters or their mother to me; he says it is immaterial to the question at hand.

Lady Catherine is all willing to acknowledge the Bennets, sight unseen, because she is quite desperate to reclaim her daughter. My aunt begs that you agree with her on the subject; the Bennets raised Elizabeth as a gentlewoman, and as such, should be held in some esteem for having done so.

As a further note, I must ask, despite it bringing up a shunned name – did you or my uncle Darcy ever speak to Wickham about Elizabeth's disappearance? I know he was naught but a boy when it occurred, the same as Darcy and me, but Anne and my aunt cannot recall ever speaking to him about it. If not, Darcy and I intend to travel to Hertfordshire, where Wickham is currently stationed with the militia. He is already acquainted with the Bennet family, so there should be little difficulty in engineering a meeting with him for the purpose of discussing that day with him.

I hope to hear from you soon, but before I close out this letter, I wish to make my own personal plea. In a week's time, it will be the Ides of March – the day that we lost Elizabeth seventeen years ago. Pray, Father, do not let this year be known to the family as the year we lost Elizabeth a second time. We have had enough heartache to last all of us a lifetime. Recognize her as Lady Catherine's daughter – and the Bennets as our friends and almost-family for their part in protecting and raising her.

Yours, etc,

Richard Fitzwilliam"

Richard signed his name with a flourish and blotted the letter. He had told Darcy, Elizabeth and Jane he doubted his father would disapprove of Elizabeth's desire to retain the Bennets as family; but the reality was, he could not be sure himself. The earl, by virtue of his position, was quite well aware of the clout he held in society, and both he and the countess wielded that influence with devastating accuracy. Based on a few comments Lady Catherine had let slip – information gleaned from her interrogations of Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth – the younger Bennet sisters would need a bit of firm control and schooling before they would be presentable in Society as Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh's adoptive sisters. It still may not help them to garner better matches – not with the small fortunes Richard suspected they possessed – but at least it would not damage the Fitzwilliam clan.

As for Elizabeth … oh, but she was a treat. A lively disposition mixed in equal parts with pert intelligence, grace, affection and compassion. He had long known what Elizabeth's inheritance had been deemed to be, should she ever be recovered; comfortable independence was the phrase that sprang to mind. Indeed, she was the sort of woman he had searched for alongside Darcy since the two of them came of age. But he knew his cousin well – being the nearest age-mates growing up, and with Wickham increasingly being distanced from them due to the combined force of their displeasure with his activities, they were nearly brothers – and he had never had the fortune of seeing his dearest friend in love… until now.

He could well see how it would have happened – an unconscious familiarity that would have encouraged more attention than Darcy was wont to give anyone, combined with a conscious recognition of wit and intelligence. Her incandescence made it nearly impossible for her to enter a room unnoticed; such a fountain of warmth and vitality spilling heedlessly over everyone in her vicinity would have thawed the defences Darcy had erected around himself these past years faster than a midsummer's sun could melt a snowball.

He still wished, in the envious, twisting pain of happiness to see Darcy in such a state, he had met the grown-up Elizabeth first. The past could not be changed, he reminded himself, and he tried to distract himself from his cousin – either of them – with thoughts of Miss Bennet – of Jane, his quasi-cousin. She was beautiful, no doubt, although her expression when watching Darcy watch Elizabeth held more joy than sadness, the pain was there, lingering like an ominous storm cloud on an otherwise clear day. No, even if he was drawn to the steel-wrought lily type, her heart was held elsewhere, and he briefly wondered who would have had the insanity to jilt her. Her devout affection for Elizabeth meant, however, he could not help but love her as much as he loved Elizabeth.

He wondered, yet again, if Elizabeth realized how precious she was to him – to Darcy – to them. His reference to the Ides of March had not been idle rhetoric. His elder brother, the viscount, and his wife had yet to bring a living child into the world; Georgiana's bruised heart and broken innocent joy weighed upon the entire family. Darcy and he had not found a reason to hope for founding families of their own; Anne's unending despair had mellowed with age into a withdrawn cynicism and quiet resignation to a pale fate. Wickham – who Richard still, in his heart of hearts, loved as a brother even when he hated him with a murderous passion – had strayed beyond redemption, a cut as deep as any other. Elizabeth… it was not just Darcy who needed to be thawed and protected from himself, it was their entire family who needed her. They needed a second chance, a way to break the curse that had descended upon them with her loss. Perhaps it was an instinctive awareness of the sheer neediness of the family that made Elizabeth skittish; he imagined if he were in her place, he would be overly cautious as well.

He meditated upon the letter a moment longer before sealing it. There was naught else for him to add or say, no more persuasions to exert – Darcy's stubbornness was a Fitzwilliam trait, and the earl himself proved it such, time and again. He could only hope his father, if he were indeed against accepting the Bennets, would be willing to be persuaded to not disagree outright, to give Elizabeth a chance to breathe life back into his fading family.

Charles Bingley morosely shuffled papers around on his desk, wishing he knew how long his friend was to be in Kent for the undisclosed familial emergency. He missed Darcy's company keenly; he had become quite accustomed to having company superior to his sisters on a daily basis, in London at Darcy's townhouse and at Netherfield. As was usual, the past few months, the thought – however brief and oblique – of Netherfield brought a wave of pain.

She does not love me, he reminded himself sternly. If she had, or did, Caroline would have passed along any sort of information – that Jane – Miss Bennet that is – had written to her to inquire about anything, or that they had exchanged visits. Indeed, Caroline had assured him, she had written to Jane thrice – the first and second letters had been given polite, but cold replies, and the third, sent a month and a half ago, never responded to at all.

Thankfully, before his thoughts could submerse themselves into well-worn habitual patterns again, a knock at his study door interrupted him. "Enter," he called.

One of the maids peered around the door. "The post is come, sir," she said.

"Ah, bring it here." He smiled at her, and she dutifully came into the room and deposited it in his hand. "Thank you." The girl curtsied, and after ascertaining that Bingley did not require anything else, quietly left the room.

He sorted through the various letters, pausing as he spied Darcy's handwriting. The other letters were set aside to be attended to later; his need for reassurance that there were people in the world without Caroline's cutting tongue overriding the need to tend to the more fiscally important letters in the stack. He cracked the seal and hoped it was nothing horrible that kept his friend in Kent.

"Rosings, Kent
Thursday, March 7

Charles,

I am not yet at liberty to inform you the reason behind my aunt's unexpected summons to Rosings. I hope, by tomorrow or Saturday, I shall have the necessary agreements to do so. I do, however, wish to assure you that things are not as hopeless as I may have led you to believe, when I paced around my library muttering to myself after receiving it.

On a happier note, I wish to inform you that I have become… reacquainted with a neighbour of yours; Miss Elizabeth Bennet is currently in residence at Hunsford, the parsonage, visiting Mrs. Collins neé Lucas. We have come to a truce of sorts –"

Here, Bingley could naught but smile. He liked Jane's sister quite a lot, and had often thought she and Darcy would make a good match, if only she were not so stubbornly set against him.

"— but only after we quarrelled a little, namely in regards to yourself."

Bingley was startled. That was unexpected. They had quarrelled over him once, that memorable evening at Netherfield, but surely there were more interesting subjects than him!

"It seems I was wrong, and I wish to correct the oversight immediately; Miss Bennet was – is still, based on Miss Elizabeth's vehement defence of her sister – more attached to you than I had supposed in November. Moreover, she has been in London these last three months, and visited Miss Bingley shortly after her arrival there. Miss Bingley, Miss Elizabeth has been given to understand, was quite remiss in returning the visit, and did not do so until a month had passed."

Bingley repressed the desire to leap from his chair immediately to get the address from his sister, to pay a call immediately – Caroline's subterfuge could be dealt with later.

"I know you, Charles, and I know your first instinct will be to visit Miss Bennet right this very moment, as you read these words. However, there is more – much, much more – going on than your sister's behaviour, and I do not believe Miss Bennet will be in town for above another day or two at most. I believe – indeed, I hope – that she will be travelling to Kent, to visit her sister before the week is out.

I wish I could tell you more; alas, as I wrote above, I am not yet at liberty to explain why I was summoned here, and I am only hoping that Miss Bennet will be arriving to visit her sister. For the time being, it may be prudent to look into reopening Netherfield, although I do not yet know if even that is necessary; the Hursts are returning soon, I believe, and they can easily escort Miss Bingley for the duration.

I realize that this seems much like I am giving you hope only to snatch it away – but I assure you that is not my intent. I will inform you the moment I can about what is going on, for if you intend to pursue Miss Bennet – and, may I add, for the sake of preventing a repetition of my upbraiding by Miss Elizabeth, I do hope you do – you will need to be acquainted with the particulars, at least some of them, yourself. Consider the time between now and then an opportunity to deal with certain… situations closer to home, eh?

Your friend, etc,

Fitzwilliam Darcy"

Even as Bingley re-read the letter, Caroline's carrying voice broke the quiet solitude of his study. With an uncharacteristic frown, he set the letter down, tapping it just once, in staccato agreement, before moving to leave the room.

Certain situations, indeed

Posted on 2008-07-30

Mrs. Collins had quickly agreed to let her husband's patroness take over the pleasure of hosting her guests. Elizabeth owned she was somewhat disappointed in Charlotte's agreement with Lady Catherine, but while Richard wrote to his father, she, her father and Jane oversaw the removal of their belongings from Hunsford to Rosings. Anne had conjured some sort of excuse to keep William out of the way for the duration; Elizabeth knew not what it was, but she was grateful. She had begun to realize the look in William's eye was quite similar to the expression he granted her in Hertfordshire; here, however, there could be no mistaking it for disapproval, not with the declaration he would not let the earl dictate the Darcys' response to her discovery.

He had even apologized, in an undertone, to Elizabeth. "I am sorry I have not summoned Georgiana here. Until I know what my uncle's response will be, I do not wish to subject her to conflicting arrangements. She will not quite understand what your recovery means to me – to our family, that is, for she was not born until after your disappearance. I do not wish her to see our uncle and myself at crossed purposes if I can help it."

She had been moved to compassion, and – oddly enough – affection; he was so intent on trying to protect Georgiana, but he was still willing to recognize her as his cousin, even if it meant exposing his sister to a break in some of her only family. She placed her hand on his arm, a comforting gesture between cousins and friends. "I can understand that, particularly if she still suffers from last summer. It would be best to show her a united front, even among the family, so that she does not doubt what she should do."

His eyes had been drawn to her hand on his arm, and he swallowed hard before glancing back up at her. His expression made her blush from embarrassment, although she knew not why, and she removed it. He shook himself lightly, like a cat trying to remove a single droplet of water from its fur. "There is another consideration," he admitted.

"Oh?" she hoped her voice had not wavered in her discomfort.

"Your mother," his lips twisted slightly, "had long desired a match between myself and Anne – a scheme that, for all she says, originated when we were babes in the cradle, did not occur to her until after your disappearance. That… conflict… of interests has not yet materialized during this visit; I presume it will, once she is assured of your place in the family."

Elizabeth affected indignation, although the long-suffering expression sparked her amusement and she could not repress an arch reply. "Conflict of interests? What, you have no desire to become my brother?"

"No, indeed," he replied, an amused smile breaking through. Elizabeth knew not what to make of the comment, but it was soon of no matter.

"Darcy?" Richard called, and William looked towards the door. A quiet murmur in the hall outside the door occurred, most likely Richard greeting someone, she surmised, although Elizabeth could not place the second voice.

"It seems I am summoned – probably to the billiards room, if I know our cousin at all," William commented, and Elizabeth inclined her head in amused agreement. But before he quit the room, he glanced at Elizabeth, away, and back at her. "I have no desire to be your brother," he added quietly. "However, I find I have few reservations about being Anne's."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped in stunned astonishment, and William gave her a bright smile as he made his escape.

How so like the man, she thought, to drop something so stunning upon me, and then disappear. Where is Jane? I need to talk to her.

She was prevented from searching for Jane immediately; Anne entered the room not a moment after William had left.

"Elizabeth?" Anne asked uncertainly. "May we talk a while?"

"I… certainly," Elizabeth replied uncomfortably. "What did you want to talk about?"

Anne frowned, looking as if she were deliberating, then taking Elizabeth's hand, led her to a chair closer to the window. "Richard and I heard William's last comment to you just now."

Elizabeth blushed scarlet. "I am… sorry if –"

Anne shook her head, laughter echoing in her eyes. "Our mother is who wanted the connection; for years she has not listened to either my protestations, or William's, that we did not want to marry each other." She tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "I would, however, much like to have him for a brother."

Elizabeth blushed even more furiously. "I…"

Anne's expression suddenly became solemn. "You did not like him, when you first came to Kent, did you?" Elizabeth mutely shook her head. "What do you think of him now?"

A helpless shrug – this was the conversation she had thought she would have with her sister – and then she realized, she was, just not the one she had thought of originally. It occurred to her, all of a sudden, she had done a disservice to Anne since coming to agree she was most probably a de Bourgh. At least Anne did not seem to be holding it against her.

"Elizabeth?" Anne interrupted quietly. She glanced up at her. "I… would like – I should so greatly wish – that we be sisters in truth, and not just blood. I… have no intention of coming between you and Jane – nor you and the other Bennets."

Elizabeth looked back down at her hands, now twisting in her confusion. "I… think I should like that, as well," she admitted. "But I am quite confused, even without William's… unexpected declaration a moment ago."

"Of course you are," Anne said, as she took her hands in her own, leaning forward. "I promise you – we all are, Mr. Bennet and Jane included. But the one thing all of us have in common, is that we love you, in various strengths and forms. That is what is binding us together right now – but only you can decide if you can love all of us."

"I am scared of hurting Jane," Elizabeth's voice was quiet, downcast. "We have been not just the closest of sisters, but the best of friends."

Anne sighed. "Jane… loves you so very much, Elizabeth. She sees me as a threat, I think." Elizabeth winced, and Anne shook her head. "It is not your fault, sister. I will… talk with her myself. I would not have any wounds festering between the three of us. I would not mind gaining a bevy of sisters in one fell swoop."

Elizabeth nodded in relief, before Anne continued. "And what of William?"

Elizabeth smiled ruefully. "He is proud, obstinate, and," she swallowed, "strangely gentle and supportive." She glanced at Anne. "You were quite correct that my opinion of him was quite low when I came to Kent, but – at his request – we came to a truce the day after his arrival, after we… cleared the air in regards to a… misunderstanding or three. He has… been helpful, since."

"Were some of those misunderstandings based on Wickham's story?" Anne asked, and Elizabeth nodded. She sighed, half laughing. "I had wondered why he had been… so… insistent on ensuring you and Mr. Bennet were told exactly what happened. But it makes sense now."

"What should I do?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"I disagree with William; I think Mother will not be championing a match between him and me," Anne said. Elizabeth gave her a sharp look, and Anne shrugged, with a slight smile. "William has been blindingly obvious in his attentions to you, Elizabeth, and I think our mother is so grateful to recover you, she will do anything that forwards your happiness."

"I do not know if that could be found with William," Elizabeth replied.

"You've only known and seen his true character for a matter of days," Anne answered. "Give yourselves more time to really get to know each other; Richard and I will speak to him about… not forcing you into an uncomfortable position at this juncture. But," she added with a hint of laughter, "at least you cannot think he believes you merely tolerable, now."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped for a second time in the space of half an hour, and Anne laughed. "He told me that himself, while, may I add, he was roundly scolding himself for being a pompous twit that day."

Betwixt Anne's laughter, the way she phrased her explanation and the image of William pacing about a library scolding himself out loud, Elizabeth could not help but giggle, herself. The giggle turned to laughter, and before she knew what had happened, Elizabeth realized she would most probably be able to love her new sister with tolerable ease.

Lord Randall Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock, was uncomfortably ensconced in his library, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to soothe back the headache forming. The letter from his younger son, Richard, sat open, at an angle that would have an observer believe it had been tossed down as the reader paced away from it in a fit of… undefined emotion.

Thus, when Lady Sarah slipped into the room, her first question was "Does the letter from our son bring bad news, darling?"

He looked up and shook his head, paused, then with a shrug, replied, "No… and perhaps yes. He is well, at least."

Lady Sarah gave her husband a tolerant, amused look. "Do make up your mind."

"I cannot," he replied with a sigh, and she frowned, coming around the desk to rub his neck.

"What does our wayward son write?"

"My sister's lost daughter has been found."

Sarah gasped. "Elizabeth? It cannot be! After all this time?" She leaned over her husband's shoulder to peer at the letter – alas, her eyesight was not as keen as it had been, and she could not read it. Her husband did not need her request to enlighten her; he teased her about the need for reading spectacles often enough.

"It seems, somehow, she was transplanted from Kent to London; even if we discover how she left Rosings, I doubt we will ever know how that happened. A Mr. Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire brought her into his family and raised her as his own daughter; she recalls nothing of Rosings."

Sarah frowned. "I suppose her inability to remember is the bad news, then?"

Randall shook his head. "No, indeed… between her adoptive father's information and my sister's persuasion – and apparently her own looks mark her distinctly as a de Bourgh – she has been convinced to allow she may be Catherine's daughter… but she will not agree to be recognized unless she is allowed to retain the Bennets as her family as well."

His wife's voice was gentle. "Then, my love, I fail to see what the problem is; they cannot be wholly bad if they raised her to be someone admirable. There are not many women in the world who would think twice about walking away from the family they've known for years, for the chance at instant social promotion and fortune."

His fingers paused in their circling on his temples. "I had not quite thought of it from that light," he allowed. "I had only thought that the Bennets may be an… embarrassment to the Fitzwilliam clan. Darcy – who has met them – will not describe the younger siblings or the mother to our son; Richard writes he says it is immaterial."

"William has always had a knack for being correct," she replied. "If the younger siblings are indeed a bit wild, as one would be led to suspect by such circumspection, we may be able to offer some assistance in placing them in situations outside of the household, where they may gather decorum and schooling. The mother – well, I certainly doubt William would make a moment's hesitation of informing Richard if the lady's behaviour was malicious. She may just be like many society wives: vapid and of mean understanding."

He sighed, his hands moving to capture his wife's over his shoulders. She leaned against him, arms encircling him in a loose embrace, and he kissed one of her hands. "Richard spoke of the Ides of March," he said quietly, sadly.

"We have suffered unduly, these past years," she replied. "I suspect Richard is desperate for anything he can take to be an omen of a change in luck."

"Are you willing to take on the task then, of taming our niece's wild adoptive family, if it comes to that?" His acceptance hinged entirely upon her answer, and she knew it.

"If it returns Elizabeth to her rightful family," Sarah answered, "I would be hard-pressed to think of something I would not be willing to do."

"Such as accepting Wickham as a Darcy?"

"No; I think I would even do that, particularly if it meant we could finally bring the boy under control. We erred, I think, in not telling the boys the truth, once they were of an age to understand.

Posted on 2008-08-06

The evening passed at Rosings with little indication any major upheavals had or were occurring within the de Bourgh family circle. Mr. Collins praised and ate, ate and praised, Sir William followed his son-in-law's lead readily. Quiet conversation found itself scattered amongst those around the table, and to Mr. Bennet and Richard's obvious amusement, Elizabeth and Darcy spent much of the evening affecting unconcern about the other's whereabouts, just so long as the other was looking in the primary's direction. Elizabeth knew her father and Richard were being entertained at her expense, but there was little she could do about it – even discussing it with Anne had done little to soothe the distraction caused by William's pronouncement. She intended to speak to Jane about it tonight – and, perhaps, invite Anne to her room for the nightly talk, as a way to show Jane that she had no intention of permitting anyone to usurp her place, but that Elizabeth was not so... shallow… as to be able to only love one elder sister strongly.

Still, a quiet end to a stressful day – such minor luxuries were to be treasured, as it had seemed a year since she had spent a dinner with such little vexation. Mr. Collins' voice droning on in the background was tolerable – she blushed as soon as that word crossed her mind, and she hoped desperately she would get over that soon – compared to the conversation of the last few nights.

She wondered if she was being too obliging, too accepting of the situation. Although her father's – and her aunt and uncle's – story could not be doubted, she still felt vaguely guilty for her partial agreement, as if it were a mark of disloyalty to her father, to not argue him out of the notion. But – for all her desire to marry for love – another blush at a remembrance of a very beautiful smile on a handsome face, vexingly, linked to such a phrase at the moment – she was a mostly practical creature; stubbornness could only do so much in the face of truth, earnestly spoken.

"Have you written to Mama?" she asked Mr. Bennet quietly.

He shook his head. "Not yet, my dear. She… knows that I will not do so, until it has been decided what will be done about you; we agreed to that before I left Longbourn."

She nodded, still slightly anxious. "And who is running the household?"

"Your younger sisters do not know why I left; they do not know that Jane is currently not in residence at London. We did not wish to… disturb them unnecessarily," Mr. Bennet replied, choosing his words carefully. "I presented the challenge of running the household to Mary; I told her it was time she learned yours and Jane's duties, should she find a household of her own at some point." He paused, reflectively. "She seemed quite pleased that I thought her capable of handling Longbourn for the week; she had not a phrase to say from her great friend Mr. Fordyce. Although should anything drastic occur, I will, of course, return instantly."

"With any luck," Elizabeth said, "she will be distracted enough in her nervousness at the duties, that she shall manage to make it the entire time without once looking at that book."

"I rue the day I read from it in jest, in her hearing," Mr. Bennet sighed. He picked at his plate for a moment. "What are your plans, Lizzy?"

"I… do not know. I would suppose that until we know how the earl will respond to finding himself connected to a modest gentleman's family, my plans are what they were," she replied. "I will remain another five weeks here in Kent – be it at Rosings or Hunsford, then return to Longbourn until we travel to Pemberley and ----- in the summer."

Mr. Bennet smiled briefly. "And how shall you like having your own estate?"

Elizabeth's eyes danced. "As long as there are walks aplenty, I believe I would like it just fine."

Darcy – who had been studiously not-looking (that is to say, he was the only one who thought his eyes left her) at Elizabeth, while Richard and Anne valiantly attempted to not snicker at his behaviour – perked up at Elizabeth's comment. "The estate is a pretty one," he interjected. "It is a bit south of Pemberley, but it is a comfortable distance."

"What do you know of its history, Darcy?" Mr. Bennet asked.

Darcy smiled softly, his eyes unfocusing slightly. "It is actually where my mother and father were first introduced, and although it was left to Aunt Catherine to augment the de Bourgh holdings, it has always been open to the Darcys."

"Why were they not introduced in London?" Elizabeth asked, curious.

"Mother never seemed to recall why they were staying there, actually," Darcy grinned. "She could barely ever speak of the estate – or that particular visit – with anything but the dreamiest expression."

"Your parents made a love match then, Mr. Darcy?" Jane asked innocently, flicking her eyes at Elizabeth in such a way as to give lie to such innocence. Elizabeth and Darcy were both suddenly blushing and looking at opposite ends of the room. Richard failed to hide the snigger sufficiently to avoid being the target of Darcy's embarrassed glare.

Mr. Bennet leaned over to his eldest daughter to say approvingly, but not quite sotto voce, "Good girl."

Darcy pretended to not hear Mr. Bennet's comment. "They did indeed," he finally answered. "The Fitzwilliam clan, for all its virtues, remains one of the few fashionable families of England to indulge in the unfashionable vice of forwarding love matches among its scions." He grinned slightly. "The Darcys, on the other hand, never cared for being fashionable." He started to say something else, turned a charming shade of scarlet (in Elizabeth's studied non-opinion), and could not be coaxed to say anything of substance for the remainder of the evening.

Eventually, the dinner broke up, and was followed by Elizabeth and Jane singing duets in the parlour. After a few songs, Elizabeth rose from the piano and went to Anne's side. "Come join us," she half-asked.

Anne looked askance at her mother and sister. "I have never learnt; I'm sure our mother told you that."

"Then Jane and I shall teach you now," Elizabeth laughed. "Although I would caution you to learn more from her than from me!" Anne shook her head at Elizabeth in mock-displeasure, even as Elizabeth grasped her hand and tugged her towards the piano. Jane, to her father's eye, looked somewhat ill at ease, but he could but hope Elizabeth would be able to mend the bridge between her two elder sisters. Anne de Bourgh, he had decided, needed a few more people in her life.

Lady Catherine looked nonplussed for a moment. "Anne has always been so ill," she said to those remaining nearby. "I never thought her health sufficient to permit her the strength to practice with due diligence. That is why I never brought on a piano master for her."

Mr. Bennet laughed. "I assure you, madam, that Elizabeth – for all her healthfulness – does not practice with due diligence. If she did, her playing would be very well indeed, but as such, it remains she is a mere enthusiast."

"Why, then, knowing she could display superior skill, did you not hire on a governess or piano master yourself?" Lady Catherine still felt uneasy about this neglect of her daughter's education.

Mr. Bennet's expression lost most of its good humour. "My boy was eight when he died. We had… already established a pattern of spending that did not include having a worry as to our girls' futures. And I…" He frowned, before glancing at Darcy. "I should apologize to you, Darcy, for being so hypocritical. Much of my family's failures are because I chose the path of avoidance – of both memories and responsibilities."

Darcy, who had not actually been paying attention to anything but Elizabeth's laughter, was startled to hear his name, although he picked up the thread of the conversation easily. "There are some failures," he replied, "that can be forgiven. One hopes that the…" he hesitated delicately, "issues can be remedied."

Fitzwilliam's eyes narrowed. "I believe my mother can be… relied upon for advice, in the situation I presume we are discussing. She is much vaunted for her ability to assist members of the ton with placing their scions in situations appropriate for each child."

Mr. Bennet gave him a meditative look. "Is she indeed?" At the younger man's nod, he tilted his head in consideration. "I believe the night grows late," he said, "and I should be finding my way to the room you were so courteous as to assign to me, madam," he added with a half-bow at Lady Catherine before he moved to the piano to interrupt the party there.

"Goodnight, girls," he said, kissing Elizabeth and Jane on the forehead. He smiled at Anne. "Do not let these two keep you from your rest," he advised, "Lizzy in particular is known for forgetting others in the world need sleep to function."

"Papa!" she laughingly protested. "And he will have you believe me without such considerations."

Anne smiled, and rose herself. "It is probably time for me to retire," she owned. "I do not normally stay in company so long," she added.

Mr. Bennet caught the look Elizabeth gave Jane – an entreaty, a request for permission. He felt quite proud of both of his girls, when Jane's only reaction was an acknowledging blink, and it was Jane who said to Anne – "I fear we should retire as well – would you mind showing us the way to our rooms? Are they far from yours?"

Anne nearly glowed at Jane's comment – Bennet felt his guess had been correct: Elizabeth, ever the peacemaker – for Jane was too sweet to be capable of the harshness sometimes required for the post – had spent the last few half hours attempting to ease the tension between her two elder sisters, and not, it appeared, without some measurable success. He escorted the girls out of the room, and shook his head in amusement when Elizabeth laughingly dismissed him to his room and books.

How was he to ever give her up? The question had plagued him frequently those first few months after he had brought her home to Longbourn. Fanny had been inconsolable with their loss – and while she came to love Elizabeth with the same sort of fierce unstable affection she had for all of her children, Bennet still felt that, on some level, Fanny blamed Elizabeth for the loss of two of their children. It was irrational and unreasonable, but so very much Fanny. Yet, had the Gardiners not had such obvious affection for Jane and Elizabeth, Fanny would never have let them leave Longbourn without her, for any reason. She had, in a surprisingly short time, come to his opinion of the matter – losing Elizabeth would be a blow that only losing another heir or Jane could surpass.

But years had passed, and the worry had faded, for a long while, until Jane was sixteen, and Bennet was suddenly confronted with the very real possibility he would lose his two eldest daughters to matrimony in the near future – that was, any time before they were forty would be far too soon for him. And he had once again had to confront the question – how was he to ever give her up?

And after today, he felt that, even if she remained at Longbourn for the remainder of her unmarried life, time would pass by far quicker than he had ever dared fear. Darcy… he approved of the boy, in a roundabout way, if only for his good taste and sense in loving Elizabeth. He was smart, maybe even as smart as his Lizzy, and not as proud as perhaps he had been led to believe. It was obvious something had been said betwixt the two of them, above and beyond what he had heard himself, and what Elizabeth had admitted to him while Darcy was being kept out of the way of moving arrangements.

How was he to give up the girl he had taught how to climb trees, and how to skip rocks properly? He could still remember boosting her up to reach the limb of an apple tree in the orchard so she could pick a few apples for them to munch on while they walked. How, on more than one occasion, as he started to set her back on the ground, she had flung her arms around his neck and told him how much she loved him. His darling, precious little girl; had it really been that long since she was too old for him to pick up like that? Could Darcy – or even Lady Catherine – appreciate her, as she ought to be appreciated? How could he possibly be expected to give her hand to Fitzwilliam Darcy, or anyone else, for that matter, some day in the not-distant-enough future?

It was Elizabeth's laughter that drew him from his slow, morose revere. She and Jane – and it sounded like Miss de Bourgh as well – were laughing behind one of the bedroom doors; he had no idea who had been given which rooms. How often had he heard such easy joy at Longbourn and thought nothing of it! More the fool he, apparently.

He stood still, trying to imprint the sound of her laughter perfectly on his memory. After a few moments, he became aware he was no longer the only man standing there in the hall, listening to the girls laughing. Darcy stood there as well, eyes closed, a slight bemused smile on his face. It was the smile that decided him.

"You will take care of her, will you not? No matter what happens during all of this mess?" He did not see a need to define which 'her.'

Darcy's eyes flew open, and he flushed, looking at the ground. "I…" he swallowed hard, and glanced back up to meet Bennet's eyes. "Whatever makes her happy, sir." He smiled ruefully, glancing at the door. "Although I will admit I am not sure I am qualified to know what that is."

The surprisingly honest answer – and the rueful tone – elicited a laugh from Bennet. He clapped Darcy on the shoulder, feeling more at ease than he had since he had agreed to let Elizabeth travel to Kent in the first place. Fanny was not the only one who was – in their own way – overly protective of Elizabeth. "No man does," he replied. "I am quite sure that women are a mystery even to their own Creator."

Darcy favoured him with an odd smile. "No less a mystery than their fathers could be."

Bennet inclined his head, feeling all the amusement of such a statement. "I am merely ensuring that my daughter has a more worthwhile cousin to take care of her, should certain eventualities occur, than I was able to provide her with."

Darcy's eyes wandered back to the door Elizabeth was beyond. "Whatever makes her happy," he repeated.

With such a reply, Bennet found he could be nearly content. It seemed Darcy, at least, was truly appreciative of what the joy Elizabeth brought to aught around her was worth.

He could live with that

Posted on 2008-08-13

"----- House, London
March 10th

Dear Richard,

I was startled to receive the information contained in your letter, but it is welcome intelligence. Your mother and I look forward to meeting our rediscovered niece – although your mother tactfully reminds me to tell you she should much rather wish to evaluate the Bennet daughters within their own home, prior to making her recommendations. She has promised to do her best by her niece's adoptive family; thus you may reassure our Elizabeth, she is, indeed, welcomed back into the family with open arms and hearts. Your mother and I look forward to meeting her; when I informed your brother, he quite nearly made his first voluntary visit to Rosings in his life... without packing, might I add, and possibly even on foot. Georgiana has been told, although, naturally, she is uncertain and a little worried how her new cousin will like her. I will assume Darcy did not summon her to Rosings immediately for fear of exposing her to a break in the family. The excitement your information has given the family, however, seems to ease her spirits and apprehensions.

I admit I am disturbed by the fact there is little information known about Elizabeth's appearance in London, but I am at least reassured it would not have been by Mr. Bennet's hand, for else he would have ensured Elizabeth never came within twenty miles of Kent. Perhaps a word at the place she was discovered in London may bear fruit in the matter? We did not ask anything of Wickham, truth be told; the poor boy was traumatized severely by Elizabeth's disappearance and Lewis' extensive injuries and subsequent death. We could scarce get a word above a monosyllable from him for several weeks. Still, I suspect you are correct; he may indeed have information that would at least let us piece together that terrible night, that is, if he has not forced himself to forget more successfully than the rest of us had attempted.

However, you and Darcy are forbidden from bounding off to Hertfordshire immediately. It is the wish of your mother and me that Elizabeth be brought to London; I will summon Wickham, who should at least have sufficient deference as to come instead of leave, particularly if I word the 'request' in such a way as to hint at a possibility of money. We need to speak to you – all of you – about an only partially related topic, one we have avoided for years. It seems now would be the opportune time.

Your mother wishes to extend her hospitality to Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet. If we are correct in our reading of your letter, and Miss Bennet is also in residence at Rosings at this time, she is of course welcome to adjourn to London with Elizabeth. Your aunt and cousin Anne should come here as well; no sense in separating them from Elizabeth so soon. We expect to hear from you soon, detailing your travel arrangements.

Yours, etc,

Randall Fitzwilliam"

Darcy scowled as he handed the letter back to his cousin. "I should much rather ask the blackguard without your father's interference."

Richard smiled without amusement. "You are not the only one, William." He sighed dramatically as he reseated himself. "Still, father's ultimatum should be obeyed – by myself, at least. You have the relief of not being beholden beyond familial duty to him."

Darcy gave his cousin a pointed look. "Such talk of duty would not be required if you would settle upon a nicely dowered lady and be done with it." He handed a glass of port over to his cousin, and sipped his own.

Richard hid a grin behind his glass. "Do you think Elizabeth would do for me, then? She has money enough, now, as a de Bourgh, despite being only tolerable."

Darcy nearly choked on his drink in response. "Richard, if you dare –" he spluttered.

Richard laughed out loud; Darcy would forever be entirely too easy to tease. "No, William, you did find her first, and I am intelligent enough to know when the field of battle does not even exist!"

Darcy blushed and muttered something. Richard sobered slightly. "Truly, William, even if she were not our cousin, she would be a wonderful wife for you. Although you perhaps should be wary of her sisters – Jane and Anne, that is, specifically. They seem to be fiercely protective of her, in their own ways."

Darcy fiddled with his drink. "Jane already made her thoughts on the subject known, even before I attempted to gauge Elizabeth's reaction to my… interest."

Richard laughed. "Did she indeed? Pecked you right back into place like a mother hen ought to, then?"

"Quite," Darcy grinned. In a roundabout way, it had been terribly amusing to be subject to Jane's scolding. "I should send Bingley word when we have decided our travel arrangements; he will be anxious to see Jane again."

"Bingley?" Richard frowned. "Is he who has jilted her, then?"

Darcy glowered, although not, Richard felt, at him. "Nay – his sister did all the work in that regard."

"And poor Jane believed what that crone-to-be said?" Richard was somewhat astounded; Jane seemed entirely too intelligent to be taken in by Bingley's sister.

"She is entirely too inclined to think well of the world, I think, much like Georgiana," Darcy replied. "And, for Miss Bingley's part, all of her actions to her face, while insincere, were far more welcoming to her than to anyone else Miss Bingley interacted with."

Richard nodded. "How will the crone take it, knowing her brother has been reintroduced to Jane?"

"Probably by cutting remarks and double entendres," Darcy sighed. "At least until it is known that Elizabeth is ours, and Jane's status is improved by such a connection."

Richard picked his glass up again, and nonchalantly, said, "Not to mention how being your sister by marriage to her adoptive sister will help cement the Bennets in our sphere, eh?"

His companion flushed. "Her simultaneous pleasure in the connection and displeasure in its cause cannot be helped, I fear."

"Anne spoke to Elizabeth about what you said to her," Richard said, in all seriousness.

"How –?"

"We both heard you, and Anne felt she should take the opportunity to act sisterly – and find out what she could about Elizabeth's feelings on the subject," Richard explained. "Anne says that you will need to give Elizabeth more time – she disliked you quite heartedly before her arrival in Kent."

Darcy sighed and nodded. "That much I knew, but she has… softened, these past few days."

"Give her time, Darce, seriously."

"I intended to," Darcy replied. "I only said what I did so she would not be unaware of… what my future intentions are. But there is too much turmoil to expect rational choices be made at the moment." He shrugged. "So despite how desperately I wish to throw myself at her feet…" he half-grinned at Richard, who, realizing what he was about to say, repeated old Darcy's favourite saying in chorus with his cousin, "Discretion is the better part of valour."

"Sorry for forcing you to tell me that, William, but Anne promised Elizabeth we'd make sure you didn't force her into making a choice before she's ready," Richard apologized.

Darcy hid a smile of his own as he once again sipped his drink. "And when will Anne make you my brother?" Richard, in unconscious mimicry of Darcy earlier response, choked on his drink.

"I was not aware that Anne was your sister," Richard replied after he finished coughing the liquid out of his lungs.

"Not yet," Darcy agreed, "but I can hope and believe. And you still have not answered my question."

"You, William, are entirely too arrogant, did you know that?" Richard evaded.

"As I have been reminded frequently, these past few days," Darcy replied, all the humour evaporating from his tone. Something in his expression made Richard think Darcy had shut out all externals for the moment, and so, without so much as taking his leave, he left Darcy there.

He still had no answer to Darcy's question, anyway.

Richard found Lady Catherine and Mr. Bennet discussing estate matters fairly peaceably. "Aunt, Mr. Bennet, my father has responded."

"Fitzwilliam! And what does my brother say?"

"He writes that he and Lady Sarah should like to meet Elizabeth, Jane and Mr. Bennet in London at our earliest convenience. He suggests that you and Anne travel with us," he responded.

"And what of our friend, Wickham?" Bennet replied.

"Father says that he shall try to summon him to London." Richard paused, and with a rueful smile, he admitted, "And William and I are expressly forbidden to chase Wickham down in Hertfordshire."

"I will suppose that shall remain true only if Wickham responds to the summons," Bennet half consoled.

"I suspect that my father will wish to visit Longbourn; my mother has offered her assistance," he expanded. "But I believe he wants to know Elizabeth first, to have a better idea of what our plan of battle with the ton shall be."

Mr. Bennet chuckled, and even Lady Catherine looked amused. "With what little interaction I have had with the ton myself," Bennet replied, "A 'plan of battle' is precisely what we shall need."

Lady Catherine concurred with such an insight. "Had my brother anything else to say?"

Richard frowned and unfolded the letter to glance at it again. "He asks if it may be possible to confer with where you – or, I suppose, Mrs. Gardiner, although he does not know that – found her, to see if there are any records of her arrival there."

Mr. Bennet frowned slightly. "I shall have to speak with my sister about that. I know that June was quite a disaster for the orphanage; some of the records were hopelessly disarrayed in the panic of the epidemic."

Richard and Lady Catherine went still. "June?" he heard his aunt whisper in disbelief. "June? She disappeared in March."

Mr. Bennet looked between the two of them – "Is that why there was never a response to my sister Gardiner's notice in the paper?"

Lady Catherine floundered. "I do not read the paper; my husband did. I cannot be bothered with the useless information that abounds there. What do I care of international affairs?" Lady Catherine's eyes closed and Richard swore she was trying to keep from crying. "June! A notice in a public paper. An orphanage – In London! Oh, my daughter, what happened to you?"

Mr. Bennet's face was grim. "That, madam, is a question I should dearly love answered myself. When in March did she disappear?"

"March 15th," Richard answered.

"Then there is a three month gap in her history, almost to the day," Mr. Bennet advised them. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him. "At most, I expected a couple of days, perhaps a week." He glanced up at Richard, whose stunned brain was still not working properly. "I do not believe a young boy of the age Wickham would have been could have successfully hid her on his own for three hours, let alone three months, if he had anything to do with the matter. Elizabeth's romantic alternative may be a reality. Would you know if there were any tenants or nearby villagers who would have had a motive for ransom or revenge upon your uncle?"

Richard mutely shook his head, glancing at Lady Catherine. "Aunt?"

She shook herself back to the present. "I… cannot recall any," she answered. The normally forceful woman seemed shaken beyond anything Richard had witnessed before.

"I will write my sister Gardiner, then, and ask if she can inquire – or if she recalls herself – how Elizabeth arrived at the orphanage," Mr. Bennet declared. "I believe we should follow your uncle's request, and remove to London. It seems likely our answers are to be found there instead of here." He paused. "And if the persons responsible still reside here…" he trailed off, meeting Richard's eyes. Richard nodded in understanding.

"Yes, yes, we must get her to London, to my brother's," Lady Catherine said. "I cannot think of where else might be safest for her at the moment. Fitzwilliam, will you find Darcy and tell him of our decision? I will find Anne and Elizabeth." Frantic was the word that came to Richard's mind as he watched her hurry out the door, calling for Elizabeth and Anne.

With a parting nod, Richard left Mr. Bennet to search for Darcy, to relay the decision and new information. What a different spin this put on matters