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Chapter 1: Saved!

Posted on 2012-12-11

Fitzwilliam Darcy nearly made a terrible error during his annual Easter visit to his aunt the Lady Catherine. Clever as he was known to be, no one would have expected him of all men to hazard such a misstep, but in his defence, it must be noted he was bored and not watching where he was going.

He had been invited six months earlier to a rented estate in a dull and confined neighborhood in Hertfordshire. Darcy spent weeks there for a friend's sake, and his favorite source of relief was amusing snatches of conversation overheard from a particular gentlewoman. He liked the sound of her voice and the things she said and hardly noticed her face at first.

One tiresome evening, his wandering gaze fixed upon her eyes. She stood laughing in a group halfway across the room. It was an easy journey from her eyes to a figure that made him recast his notions of symmetry. In an unfortunate coincidence, he soon found himself spending a week in the same house with her. He struggled to dole out meager attentions that could not raise her expectations. To ally with a woman from an unruly family and who had unfortunate connections - relatives on her mother's side in trade -- was out of the question. When his thoughts of her became irritatingly persistent, he told himself the attraction would pass.

He left Hertfordshire for civilization in London, and then Kent to visit his aunt. As if fate was playing a joke, he found Miss Elizabeth Bennet there visiting her friend, the wife of Lady Catherine's rector. The clergyman also happened to be Miss Elizabeth's cousin and, given what the man was like, another unfortunate connection for her. Darcy used his own cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam as a shield in visits to the parsonage. He, with no idea of the purpose he served, seemed to like the diversion on its own merits and even carried the conversation. Darcy, silent and grave, was free to lose himself in Elizabeth's eyes.

Unable to drink his fill that way, he would search her out for accidental meetings during the almost daily, beloved walks she took. He thoroughly enjoyed having her to himself although he seldom said much. She conducted herself admirably, never becoming giddy as some women might, nor impatient, as a vulgar woman would, for him to get on with it and declare himself. He had almost made his decision the day he happened to be standing behind a shrubbery and saw her with his cousin. The couple was chattering merrily although their words could not be made out.

In his hiding place, Darcy did not have to worry about what his face gave away as he watched. This was the first time he could devote his full powers to observing her. In front of others or with the two of them alone, he had to put a portion of his mind toward keeping his face impassive. With no need to do that now, he did not struggle against wincing as he witnessed the fondness she was showing his cousin.

Standing there at a distance, Darcy recognized the contrast of her reactions to himself during their debates about philosophy, literature and politics, when she would treat him to spritely repartee. Her remarks would have a delightful bite -- one might even say sting, though he had thought nothing amiss about it before. It was her lively spirit. But she responded differently to his cousin, who entertained her with discussions of topics usually lighter -- music, art and the latest theater. To be jealous of the colonel had never occurred to him because he assumed she was only being her warm and lively self. But now he saw how she laughed and became quieter as if she was listening very closely, hanging onto his cousin's every word. Darcy had to face that she had never done that with him.

Disappointment made his legs heavy as he trudged back to Rosings. When he heard that Lady Catherine had invited the parson and his wife and their visitors to drink tea, he pleaded indisposition. Later he declined the offer of having a meal in his room.

Meeting his cousin alone at breakfast the next morning, he was still smarting from his new knowledge. Although resentment was unreasonable, he could not help his feelings. Even Colonel Fitzwilliam's query, "Are you well? We were worried about you this past evening," was grating to Darcy.

It was said in the tone of an older brother, and usually Darcy would have thought nothing amiss with it. After all, the two men were closer than mere cousins since both were guardians to Darcy's younger sister. This morning it seemed unaccountably patronizing. How dare he? With brotherly feeling momentarily more akin to Cain, Darcy snapped, "I am fine," and turned his back. Pretending to be absorbed in selecting something from the side-board for his plate, he said curtly, "I am sure you hardly missed my absence, given your propensity to have eyes only for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Was she her usual charming self?"

"She did not come. Mr. Collins spent a quarter of an hour at least apologizing for her grievous rudeness in not feeling well, and then another quarter hour remarking upon his concern for your health." Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked and casually added, "I rather suspected that given the absence of you both, you were off together on some secret rendezvous."

Before he could think to avoid betraying too much to his cousin, Darcy spun around and growled, "Have you no care for her reputation?"

The colonel blinked, taken aback. "I was joking, of course. With only the two of us present, I doubt her reputation is in danger. I have the greatest respect for Miss Bennet."

"Your jest is devoid of humor, and you should not suggest such a possibility to me even when you think we are alone. Suppose a servant overheard?"

The colonel snorted. "That's a rather overwrought concern, cousin. I fear that whatever caused your indisposition last night must still be affecting your thinking."

Darcy knew he should let it go but he continued like the Grand Inquisitor. "I have seen you meeting with her secretly here on the grounds. You have not a care for her feelings, do you? Given the many times we have visited the parsonage, Miss Bennet probably expects a declaration of some kind from you."

"Cousin, you are not acting like yourself." As Darcy's gimlet-eyed gaze held, the colonel went on, "If you are worried that I may find myself in some embarrassing scrape, do not be. Miss Bennet has no expectations based upon a few visits. She is far too sensible to think such a thing. Indeed, she is a most engaging young woman, but really -" He shrugged.

Darcy asked, "But, what?"

"To put it plainly, she is as poor as a church mouse. She knows that her lack of fortune makes her ineligible for a man like me."

"How can you know? She seems to like you well enough."

With that question, silence fell between the two men. Darcy could see he was missing whatever it was the colonel thought was obvious. On the other side, the colonel realized that if Darcy did not see it, he would probably disapprove what the colonel had done.

He had told the young lady in terms that left no doubt that she should expect nothing from him now that their time together in Kent was drawing to a close: "… in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.''

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

"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money." He had no regrets about being clear in case the young lady indulged any hopes of something more. Years spent in His Majesty's Army had made him less rigid in his manners than his powerful landowner cousin. The colonel, as the younger son of an earl, had all the ease of a well-bred man and he knew when to be charming -- but he also knew when to be direct.

"Darcy, you are sometimes so naïve about women. You should let yourself enjoy them without thinking every innocent bit of banter must lead to something. Miss Bennet is very pleasant company but can you really believe that I might take her seriously as a prospective wife -- even were it not for her lack of dowry?"

"Why would you not?"

"Now it must be you who jests. Who are her parents, her family? Also, you have heard the way she speaks to our aunt. Miss Bennet's impertinence is entertaining, I grant - indeed, there have been times when I could barely contain myself because it seemed she would give Lady Catherine a mild attack of apoplexy." He chuckled heartily, raising his eyebrows expressively, and subsided in a sigh. "Unfortunately, our esteemed aunt has the right of it. You recall her hint about a position as a governess for a respectable family? That may be the best Miss Bennet can eventually hope for. For all that she is charming and amusing, she has a wit that can flay a man alive if he's not quick. What husband would want to live with a tongue like hers?"

After a pause to uncomfortably recall her remark about the cost of an Earl's younger son, he quipped, "I would wager that the man fool enough to marry her would find in a few years that the minx has turned into a shrew, and the only thing the shrew has in common with the pretty girl he married is that she has no money either."

He regretted his words when he saw his cousin wince, and he expected criticism of his gibe as words unbecoming a gentleman. But Darcy merely nodded rather sadly, the colonel, puzzled, noticed.

Chapter 2: Then, Again . . .

Posted on 2012-12-17

Before finally leaving Kent, Darcy told himself he needed a walk to prepare for a day of travel on horseback. He came upon Elizabeth Bennet facing away from him beneath a gnarled old oak tree. He knew he should immediately announce himself but he could not surrender this one last opportunity to take her in.

A man of notable worldliness whose travels had included a tour of the continent, he had never met anyone who fascinated him as she did. It was not just that she was, as Colonel Fitzwilliam described her, lively and pretty. She was refreshingly unlike the ladies of their circle who had been educated by the best governesses and masters to be supremely conventional paragons of society. Darcy saw something to admire in her reasoning and insights even when he disagreed with her. He thought Colonel Fitzwilliam failed to properly credit her value because for all of his many virtues, his cousin could sometimes be just a bit of a philistine. His cousin's speculation of what she would become as she matured from maid to matron was probably wrong. It took a certain discerning nature to understand why Elizabeth Bennet was far more than pleasant.

As she stood completely absorbed in her thoughts, gesturing and shaking her head, Darcy found the sight endearing. Spending day after day with her was a splendid prospect. She would certainly never be boring. Perhaps her beauty would fade with age as beauty does, but, looking at her in the here and now, he felt a rush of heat. He could not just turn and walk away.

Although he knew she presently liked his cousin more, Darcy's high self-opinion made him easily suppose that she could grow to like him, if he made the proper effort. He had not been clear enough in his intentions before, and he had let his cousin do too much of the talking. She must be aware by now that the colonel was not going to make an offer. If she was feeling pain at that, perhaps he could ease it. He would be patient and give her time. Faint heart never won fair lady.

It was an unhappy coincidence that even as he girded himself to speak, the woman he watched so avidly was trying to avoid him. It was not that she expected Darcy would seek her out. She thought he might follow along after his cousin who would display his usual excellent manners in coming to say farewell. She would not have minded seeing the charming Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she fled the parsonage because just the thought of Darcy made her head ache and oppressed her spirits.

Usually, a walk would have made her feel better, and especially here at this time of year when there was so much to see. Kent's soil, fed by the Thames as well the waters of the Atlantic, nourished flora of exceptional beauty, its verdure deepening joyously each day as spring sped toward summer. Today, her mood proved impervious to the delights before her.

She was grateful her time in Kent was nearly over. She knew now that she had been wiser than she even supposed at the time, to have immediately rejected the offer to become Mistress of Hunsford Parsonage. She could not have done what she watched Charlotte doing during this visit, no matter the security gained by marrying Mr. Collins. It was not just the stupid husband, who Charlotte ignored as much as she could, but also the woman he revered as his patroness. Lady Catherine was without a doubt the second-most infuriating, overbearing and interfering person Elizabeth had ever met.

Thinking of the dowager's incessant hints and comments -- practice more because, after all, it was valuable for a governess to know, indeed! -- Elizabeth threw up her hands and said aloud, "Such an officious woman, she thinks she always knows everything and, of course, she knows it best." She was about to add, "Just like her meddling nephew," when a deep voice behind her observed, "You must be thinking of my aunt."

Her hand flew to her mouth, she drew a sharp breath and turned. She closed her eyes briefly but he was still standing there when she opened them. He, of all people, would overhear her indiscreet words. The affable Colonel Fitzwilliam never moved as noiselessly as his taller, dark cousin. This was not the first time Mr. Darcy had taken her unawares.

"Sir, I - I beg your pardon," she stammered in her innate politeness.

"Please don't upset yourself, Miss Elizabeth. I have only myself to blame if I heard something surprising when you did not know I was here," he said. He had first met her in the company of her older sister, and here when it was just she, he might have called her Miss Bennet. But he was reluctant to give up the privilege of her given name because he liked the way it felt upon his tongue.

She ignored the smile indenting his chiseled cheeks as she generally did all evidence of his attractiveness. Chaucer's words, handsome is that handsome does, were never truer for her than with Darcy. Consequently, she found him not at all to her personal taste, although she understood the prevailing opinion. With a moment to collect herself from the shock of finding him behind her, she remembered how angry she was with him. As coldly as she could, she asked, "Have you been standing there long?"

He did not seem to notice her tone, she saw with some vexation. His lips still curved upward in that self-satisfied half-smile of his. He said, "I apologize for delaying in announcing myself. But, may I ask, Miss Elizabeth, if you often talk to yourself, or is it only my aunt who prompts soliloquy?"

"I don't believe I mentioned your aunt. I might have been speaking of anyone. Happily, even if I had been referring to your aunt, I doubt that my disapproval would give her any more pause than it would give you."

His smile wavered. "I would say you are mistaken that I would be unconcerned, Miss Elizabeth, but I suspect this is another of those times when you are taking amusement in professing an opinion for the sake of it."

"I said exactly what I mean and I mean it from my heart. I think you have absolute belief in your views, sir, and would not be moved by what I -- or, for that matter, perhaps, what almost anyone thinks." This startled him, she was happy to see. If it made him uncomfortable, then good, because no one deserved it more.

She always suspected he had a hand in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane. Thanks to Colonel Fitzwilliam's unwitting disclosure about Darcy's "protection" of his friend because there were "very strong objections against the lady" - Elizabeth now knew it for certain. Learning this upset her so thoroughly that she excused herself from tea at Rosings to avoid being in company with him the previous day. But now they were alone. What better time to speak?

"Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth, have I done something to offend you?"

"The real question, Mr. Darcy, is what could the gentlest heart in the world ever have done to offend you?"

He squinted confusedly and she explained, "My sister Jane, whom you separated from your friend."

"Ah," the sound more a groan than a word.

"Do you deny it?" she demanded.

"No."

His quick candor surprised but could not conciliate her. She said, "There can be no justification for such cruel meddling. Mr. Bingley is a good man and I do not believe that if left to himself, he would have deserted Jane. Why did you persuade him to leave? Was it merely for amusement?"

Seeing how rigid his face became, it occurred to her that this arrogant man must be completely unaccustomed to having anyone gainsay him. She recalled his cousin's words, ". . . He arranges the business just as he pleases," to which she had replied, "And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy."

"He likes to have his own way very well. But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich . . ." Rich and important as he was, he had no right to interfere with her sister's happiness.

Still, she was more frightened than she would have cared to admit as she watched his face after her challenging question. She gulped as she attempted to glare scornfully back at him.

After what seemed an interminable silence, he finally said slowly and deliberately, "She did not like him as much he cared for her. I thought it a dangerous imbalance especially since your mother would make her accept him, that was clear. While I thought your sister would be dutiful, the disparity would eventually have pained him -- no doubt greatly so."

"How could you presume to judge my sister's feelings? She --" Her voice dropped as she weighed how much of her sister's private thoughts to expose to this man -- "had sincere high regard for Mr. Bingley, and I believe he felt similarly for her. Your interference exposed one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involved them both in misery of the acutest kind." Voice rising sharply again, she asked, "Does it please you to know you have done such damage?"

He shook his head. "I made a point of watching them together. Certainly, your sister was open, cheerful, and engaging, but I saw no symptom of peculiar affection. I realize you must feel you know your sister better than I do, but I must act based upon my observations."

"You were wrong in your objections," she maintained. "Did you think my sister a fortune-hunter who would overlook her own heart in search of mercenary gain? She would not!"

"No, I did not think that for a moment. I told my friend that she is the sort of obedient daughter who would do her mother's bidding, and that is what I believe. He needed to consider that in deciding whether to pursue your sister, given -- ah, given your family."

"My family, sir?"

He briefly glanced downward before looking back directly into her eyes. "My advice to my friend was also based upon what I had witnessed on several occasions with your family -- Pardon me. I have no wish to cause you pain. But I saw at times a total lack of propriety betrayed by your mother, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father. It would seem a most unhappy lifetime prospect for my friend to contemplate."

She swallowed and hoped she was not flushing red. She knew her family. But this should be about Jane and Bingley, not them. Consciously reining in her embarrassment, she defiantly raised her chin and looked at him as witheringly as she could. If it had been in her power to reduce him to a pile of ash, she might have chosen in that moment to do so.

"Therefore, you took it upon yourself to see that your friend would not have to spend a lifetime with my family? I suppose you assumed he could overcome any feelings he might have for her."

"I have seen my young friend infatuated more than once, and he has always recovered. From past experience, I see the signs that he is doing so this time, too." He added, "Neither you nor your elder sister share the censure I applied to the rest of your family."

She ignored the compliment, indeed, hardly noticed it as such. Exasperated at a situation now a fait accompli and unfixable, like broken eggs or spilt milk, she observed, "How much does it matter if a woman has a silly mother or silly sisters -- even a father who is sometimes -- perhaps not as serious as he should be? Should not the feelings of the man and woman matter most?"

"What would you have me do?" he asked, frowning.

"What more would you want to do? You have saved your friend from my family. Is that not all that counted, what you wanted?" she replied bitterly.

Given his disapproval of her family, she did not expect him to reconsider his advice or to offer even a hint to Mr. Bingley that he might have been wrong about Jane's feelings. Having his good friend offer for Jane might inconvenience Mr. Darcy if it meant too frequent contact with the Bennets. Elizabeth pitied the misguided Mr. Bingley. It was too bad the younger man was so prodigiously influenced by the older one. If only Mr. Bingley could have stayed to further his acquaintance with Jane, there might have been time for love to grow enough to overcome Mr. Darcy's effect.

She made no effort to disguise her anger as she threw one final glare at him and said, "Good day." The words, insufferable man, were going through her mind at almost the same instant she felt him take her arm, his hand tightening around it. It was an unthinkable breach of etiquette. She stopped, startled, but once more willed herself to show no fear.

His eyes met hers and he drew back his gloved hand. He muttered, "I am sorry. Please pardon me." She held her breath and waited.

"Was there something more?" she prompted. But she saw the familiar haughty composure settle over his features and was not surprised when all he replied was, "Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness, Miss Elizabeth."

Posted on Chapter 3: It Had to Be Done

Posted on 2012-12-28

Standing on the pathway where she left him, he briefly explored the possibility of persuading his friend to return to Netherfield. That was what Elizabeth wanted. The Bingley sisters would rightly protest. And, Mrs. Bennet would pounce as soon as Bingley showed his face. The poor man might be leg-shackled by Michaelmas and sorely regretting his vulgar new connections by Christmas.

It would be a far different proposition were Darcy to pursue Elizabeth. Unlike Bingley, he understood the burdens inherent in such a course. He could keep the Bennets at bay. Poor, affable, naïve Bingley would be helpless against their demands and improprieties. So permanent and final a thing as marriage was not to be lightly risked. Darcy said aloud, "I cannot do that to a friend." There were other women as beautiful as Jane Bennet, who came with less odious encumbrances.

If only Elizabeth had not heard about what he did for Bingley . . . He spent a few miserable minutes, his face pressed in the palm of his hand, trying to divine why his cousin had betrayed him. Darcy had mentioned it to no one else, and he concluded that the colonel must have rambled on to her in his usual fashion without knowing the identity of all the parties involved. He could not have done such damage on purpose.

But Darcy had realized something else in his conversation with Elizabeth. His problem was greater than her anger about her sister. Much as it hurt when he had seen she liked his cousin more, it was far worse now to see she disliked him, so much so that she disdained to request a favor she very clearly wanted.

If she had asked him to change his advice to Bingley, he would have been able to reply, "I am sorely tempted to do it for the sake of pleasing you, but I believe it would be wrong. I hope I might please you in other ways, if you would consider my suit." Instead, his only choice was silence when her eyes eloquently said that she would have no patience for pretty sentiments from him.

Ultimately, rather than the colonel, whose propensities he knew, he had to blame himself for having spoken of separating Bingley from a young lady. The incident had been on his mind, and perhaps he needed to reassure himself he had acted rightly. Still, he was surprised that whatever Miss Bennet had said to her younger sister would seem to suggest she felt injured. Certainly, he intended her no harm, and on the contrary, she, as a victim of the crass machinations of her matrimonially ambitious mother, should have appreciated what he did.

He had seen, not merely once, but time and time again in watching his quickly enamored friend with her, how Bingley bored her. Hopping around her like an overeager puppy, he would grin and talk on and on, and she would listen with cool serenity, her responses always perfectly appropriate. She gave the same smile to all the young men who approached her.

Bingley rather pathetically thought she shared his feelings and he needed to be schooled in reality. Some two months after the Bingleys left Netherfield, Darcy also knew what to do when his friend's sisters described the horror of an unexpected Jane Bennet in their London drawing room.

They told Darcy the minute they could get him alone, when Bingley went off with his brother-in-law Hurst to confer on family business. Mrs. Louisa Hurst looked saddened as she related it --"We could hardly have turned her away, but it was awkward. She should not have come here"-- while Miss Bingley was frankly indignant. "Obviously, she hoped to find Charles. Shocking! I was sure I had seen the last of that awful family at the Netherfield Ball in November. Who would think any Bennet would turn up in London, especially now? You recall how that odd Mr. Bennet was so proud of saying he avoided town during the Season."

Darcy's heart beat faster with the first question that leapt to his mind. As soon as he could get a word in, he asked as casually as he could if Miss Bennet was alone. "Her sister did not by any chance accompany her? Her sister Miss Elizabeth?"

"No, we can at least be grateful for that," Miss Bingley replied with a crooked smile that unpleasantly twisted her lips higher on one side.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet's strength and delicacy, of course, would keep her from doing anything that hinted of crassly pursuing a man. Unfortunately, her poor older sister was made of softer stuff. Her appearance must have been masterminded by Mrs. Bennet. "She is more cravenly determined than I gave her credit for being. Shameless!"

"I'm not sure I would call Jane shameless but she is more determined than I expected she would be," Mrs. Hurst said mildly.

"I mean her mother," Darcy said impatiently. "She has tired of waiting for your brother to return to Netherfield and has sent her daughter out to stalk him." Mrs. Bennet had boldly declared her expectations the night of the Netherfield Ball. "Such a promising thing for my younger girls, too, you know. With Jane marrying so greatly, it will throw them in the way of other rich men." When Elizabeth had asked her mother to show a care because Bingley's friend could hear her, she seemed to speak louder: "What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."

"Scheming, shameless woman. You would think that after the letter I sent Jane saying we would not return to Netherfield, she would give up," Miss Bingley said.

Aghast, Darcy asked, "You did what? Why would you write such a thing? Did you consider how her mother would respond if she thought Bingley was not returning?"

The sisters exchanged looks. The younger said defensively, "I certainly did not think she would send her daughter to London! Especially after I ignored all of Jane's letters to me. Some people cannot take a hint."

Darcy asked, "Why did you ignore all of Miss Bennet's letters? What did she write?"

"She was attempting to continue the acquaintance, of course. I am sure it was only because of her mother, exactly as you say. I tried to do what you would if faced with a similar problem."

"I? Whatever makes you think I would ignore a friend? I thought from seeing you with her that you considered her that." He turned to the older sister, who at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.

Mrs. Hurst said, "We both thought it would be better for Jane to let the relationship go. Ignoring her seemed the kindest thing to do."

Miss Bingley added eagerly, "Yes, it is just as you did in not letting all those people presume on you in the dreary neighborhood where Charles has his estate. We could not let her presume on an acquaintance now that we have left. We agree, do we not, that Jane Bennet is not the right woman for my brother?"

He most certainly did not think his treatment of Bingley's neighbors could be rightly likened to their behavior toward Miss Bennet. He realized his face probably gave away what he felt because they both looked alarmed.

He took a breath and, as patiently and gently as he could, said, "You must see that your tactic had the opposite effect from what you desired. Mrs. Bennet sent her daughter to town because she feared she was losing her grip on the fatted gander. Had you continued writing, poor Miss Bennet would have been left alone and her mother would have patiently awaited your brother's return. By the time she realized he was not coming back, perhaps Miss Bennet would have found another suitor to please her."

Mrs. Hurst cleared her throat and replied, "We see the reason in what you are saying. Ignoring Jane's letters was the wrong thing to have done. As the elder, I should have known." She looked at her younger sister with an unmistakable look of accusation that seemed at odds with her words.

It made him wonder what had gone on between these two women, but he shrugged it off and noted, "I agree that your brother's feelings are cooling -- he barely ever mentions Miss Bennet now -- but if he sees her, he may start to think himself in love again. How did she seem when you saw her?"

Miss Bingley rushed to answer. "As sweet, gentle Jane always is. The pity is, we really do like her. I am sure as are you that she is only doing this because her mother is making her. I told her Charles is very busy with you and -- that is, with you, sir."

Something about Miss Bingley's last sentence made the fine hairs on the back of Darcy's neck stand up. Bingley was not seeing any new woman, although they had gone to the theater several times and been occupied with other activities available to young men of wealth. Ignoring the disquiet that whispered he should ask what else she had told Miss Bennet, he merely commented, "Charles is at the time of his life when it is to be expected he will be constantly making new friends. Let us hope she tells her mother as much when she does not see him on any of her visits to you, and the woman will have to give up. When do you plan to return the visit?"

Incredulously, Miss Bingley repeated, "Return the visit? Her uncle, who is in trade as I think you will recall, lives near Gracechurch Street. Perhaps right above whatever shop or the other he owns. Oh, Mr. Darcy, I fear that such encouragement might deceive her that we view her as an equal, and then she will expect to see Charles eventually."

The cruel contempt of her words repulsed him, and made him uncomfortably recall a remark he had once made at Netherfield. Speaking of the two elder Bennet sisters, Bingley said, "If they had uncles to fill all of Cheapside, it would not make them one less jot agreeable." And, he had replied, "But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world."

It was still a fact, but hearing Miss Bingley voice her opinion made him wish he had never spoken in front of her. A thing did not need to be said simply because it was true and certain opinions were not worthy of the air it took to utter them. He could have pointed out to Miss Bingley that while her fortune was rooted in trade, Miss Jane Bennet was gently bred. While true, it would be as unkindly objectionable for him to say to her as her remark had been regarding Jane Bennet.

His fondness for the good-natured Bingley made him quiet. There was also Miss Bingley's marvelous ability to ignore all hints that she was a newcomer to the ton. He thought he could probably tell her that all day long and she would never hear it. Looking past her, he said crisply, "I do understand your reluctance to travel to that part of the City. But I see no reason for concern that your brother and Miss Bennet will meet while she is town. Mrs. Bennet would not send her eldest daughter to look for him in my home."

Miss Bingley started to say, "But, Mr. Darcy--" Her elder sister spoke quietly as if she had not heard her, "I think this is excellent counsel. After the acquaintanceship we have had in Hertfordshire, we could hardly ignore her visit. We certainly recognize that while the Bennets are not very wealthy or fashionable, they are a gentle family -- and that is to be respected."

With a sniff and a shrug, Miss Bingley said, "I suppose it is safer to return the call than to have her turn up suddenly here at Louisa's again -- perhaps with some excuse that she thought I must be ill. I will let her know with finality that I have no wish to continue the relationship. Mr. Darcy, you will not mention to Charles that she is in London, will you?"

"If he asks me, I will not lie. But I see no reason he would ask."

The sickening feeling of recognizing an error in judgment threatened to overwhelm him. His meeting with Elizabeth might have been more pleasant if he had chosen differently in his meeting with Bingley's sisters. At Netherfield, he had thought Miss Bingley liked Jane Bennet and sincerely wanted to protect her brother from a lady who cared too little for him. The two women were friends and would know each other's feelings. Even when he had realized in London that was a mistaken assumption, he continued to support the sisters to keep Miss Bennet away from their brother. He admitted now what he could not or would not then. Desire to avoid personal temptation had mingled, in some small portion at least, with his desire to protect Bingley.

But, he reminded himself, he also had not relied upon Miss Bingley's word. He had seen Miss Bennet's indifference with his own eyes and he could not subject Bingley to a lifetime of that. The close quarters of marriage is more likely to make an indifferent heart colder than to seduce partners to fall in love after marrying. Familiarity can breed contempt. If Jane Bennet only tolerated Bingley now, years could easily harden that into something worse.

And, even were he willing to trade Bingley for Elizabeth's approval, Darcy did not think it would earn him her sudden affections. He loved her with all the strength a rational man gives his feelings, but that same rationality would not allow him to indulge futile wishes. She wanted nothing from him and, to add an inadvertent insult, preferred his cousin. For a moment in his unhappy musings, Darcy conveniently forgot that his cousin was probably his most loved friend in the world. He grumbled that it did not speak well of her to like that rattle so much. How could she even countenance his constant chatter.

He did credit the colonel's sagacity in one important respect. The choice of Elizabeth as a bride would not have been easily accepted by any number of their relatives and connections. Darcy had been prepared to ignore all of that. For her sake, he was willing to put aside considerations of heritage, family, rank. And, she did not care. Repeating this to himself, he strained to drown his sorrow with indignation. Really, it was she who was disappointing him in this affair by misunderstanding his good intentions.

It had all turned out for the best. Bingley was certainly better off without the Bennets and he -- well, in time, he would forget Elizabeth Bennet.

Chapter 4: Darcy is Undone . . .

Posted on 2013-01-01

With personal servants and the bulk of belongings sent on ahead in Darcy's coach, the gentlemen set out upon their mounts from Kent to London. They rode at a gallop at first and then slowed to a walk, before they would again take up a faster pace. Darcy, mightily displeased with Colonel Fitzwilliam, was exceptionally distant and inattentive.

"You are finally facing it," the colonel said loudly, as if repeating something.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You are giving some matter a great deal of consideration, and since we have just left Rosings, I assume the matter is marriage?"

Darcy sputtered, "So, you do know my feelings and my wishes? I thought you were unaware of what I wanted."

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed genially. "Sometimes I feel I can discern your feelings better than I can my twin's. I understand why you look upset. But, trust me, it is a good decision."

The easy admission infuriated Darcy. It would seem the colonel knew exactly what he was doing when he shared information to make certain Elizabeth would say no to an alliance if Darcy asked. His cousin must have feared she had not already disliked him enough. While protecting a friend from ill-advised romantic impulses could be a reasonable thing to do, Darcy fumed it could not be more spectacularly wrong in this instance. He was hardly a naïf like Bingley and his cousin should not have dared presume.

To deprive the colonel of the satisfaction of knowing how well his meddling succeeded, Darcy would not complain directly. Instead, in as cold and nasty a tone as he could summon, he said, "I hardly need the interference of a gadfly gossip. Please do not flatter yourself that I want either your good opinion of the way I conduct my life or your advice. I will thank you in the future to not interfere in my affairs."

The colonel looked startled and swore an oath under his breath before saying, "Oh, come now, man, is that called for? You tend to have a mean tongue when you're vexed, but fortunately for you, I am too fond of you to hold a grudge. I know you are not really unhappy with me. This is not easy to face, but it's time you do."

He paused, sighed and then offered a smile of gentle sympathy. "As always, I am on your side. Let me be the first to congratulate you. Truly, she is just the woman for you. I am glad you have finally decided to pursue her."

The affable statement overturned Darcy's assumptions, and once again, his world was upended as he considered the possibility that Elizabeth might still become his. He studied his cousin's face for sarcasm and saw none. "What are you talking about? You criticized her. I thought you doubted her value as a wife to any man. Is she not too demanding and too ready to insist upon her own way?"

"I admit to jesting about her, but I don't think I ever said that. She will require careful handling, it is true, but it will be worth it. Really, it is an excellent choice. I am glad you are facing it."

Hearing that, Darcy was amazed and tried to reconcile the present declaration with the colonel's disastrous disclosure to Elizabeth. He must have acted in innocence after all and was perhaps even unaware of the effect of his words. Darcy told him, "She was very angry to learn what I had done. It would have been so much better if she had not."

His cousin looked confused, and Darcy hastened to add, "I don't wish to sound as if I am blaming anyone except myself. After all, it was the truth. She might have found out eventually anyway. You can have no idea of how happy I am to hear you say you think I can win her. Truly, that is what I want. Thank you for making me admit it to myself." With their horses still ambling comfortably, Darcy turned in his saddle to nod in gratitude to his kinsman.

The colonel, still looking baffled, said, "Whatever argument the two of you had, it cannot be as bad as you seem to think. You worry far too much sometimes. She has always been yours. As a lady, she must demur and be coy, but, truly -- she is waiting for you to claim her."

This Darcy could barely believe. He assumed that during Elizabeth's walk with the colonel, she had delicately indicated her interest, probably in hope that his cousin would repeat it. What a happy thought that the woman he wanted had been in love with him all along. This was so exactly what he wanted to believe that he ignored the reasons why it would be unlikely.

He would no doubt have reconsidered it later but for the moment he asked eagerly, "Can this be so?" Then, more hesitantly, he confessed, "I was afraid she preferred you--although, of course, I also know you had no plans to offer for her."

In a somewhat resentful tone, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "I could never offer for Anne, even if she did prefer me." He became lost in his own reflections and did not note the tone in which Darcy questioned, "Anne?"

The colonel was rambling on, "I admit that I would very much like to find a woman with a dowry like Anne's. Who would not? I suspect you will double your fortune when you take her to be your wife -- but you don't have to confirm that. I would not pry into your financial affairs. But I will say, you are a lucky man that Lady Catherine has always favored you and that Sir Lewis de Bourgh's will left her with full control. My father says his sister would be quite capable of leaving her daughter penniless for marrying an unacceptable man. No, I put aside all thoughts of Anne years ago.

"In fact, I remember the exact time -- it was at the ball my parents gave to mark my brother's and my coming of age. I watched there the little play going on between you and her and her mother. The two of you scowled at each other while poor Anne seemed frightened of you both. Other nineteen-year old girls might have gloried in being at their first ball and surrounded by a good portion of the peerage. With her wealth and the best of connections, she could have had the world on a string, but she merely looked miserable. Do you remember how Lady Catherine kept insisting that you dance with her and she kept hiding? Did Anne ever dance with you?"

Called upon to speak, Darcy only grunted but the colonel, too caught up in recounting, took no note of the lack of enthusiasm. "They had to send out servants in search parties at least twice to find her. I think everyone knew then that she would never be able to endure the rigors of a season -- and, of course, over the years she has grown physically weaker. You seemed not at all interested in her -- but you were still a boy then. I confess I thought that your lack of interest opened the way for me. But his lordship told me on the spot me not to waste my time. Dance with her or not, she was yours. It was what her mother wanted."

When Darcy did not respond, the colonel finally took a longer look at him and observed, "I understand what you are thinking. But nothing is perfect! The plunge into lifetime partnership can never be totally without trepidations, no matter the prize. Although you will probably have to look elsewhere for interesting conversation, Anne is not as demanding as many women who have far less to offer. No sarcastic quips from her that will have you constantly jumping! My advice is to keep Mrs. Jenkinson around to make sure she has plenty of handkerchiefs for her sniffles. You'll hardly remember most of the time that she's there."

He watched Darcy's rigid face for a moment and then chuckled good-naturedly. He teased, "Do not look so like a caught man knowing he must finally face the gaoler. Darcy, it's a good decision and that's why everyone expected you would do this eventually, no matter how long you might put it off. Joining Rosings and Pemberley, that is reason to smile, man!"

"I don't believe I have ever given any hint in my action or words that I would consider marrying Anne," Darcy said.

"No, you have been admirably circumspect while you mulled the decision. Everyone respects you for that. Some speculated that you might aim higher than Anne -- and you could, but in the end, to align with your family in this way is honorable -- and given Anne's wealth, perfectly prudent, too."

"Since I have never said I would marry Anne, how could everyone expect it?"

"It's a reasonable thing to do, and what more reasonable man is there than you? I know how you hate to think people might be gossiping about your private affairs, but it's been an open secret within our family that you very likely would. I daresay, Lady Catherine probably did not expect to be kept waiting this long. You are already nearly thirty --"

"Twenty-nine on my next birthday."

"Exactly. Of an age to marry, and you ignored all the ton could offer through several seasons. Still, our aunt has had to have been worried that you might choose elsewhere, and she will be relieved that you have finally agreed. She constantly alludes to it -- discreetly, of course."

"Cousin, I must return to Rosings. You are welcome to keep riding on to London and to make yourself comfortable in my house."

"Nonsense, I will accompany you and offer my support. You may wish to talk -- or to have someone to drink with -- once the deed is done. Marrying our cousin is a good decision but I grant you, not an easy one."

Chapter 5: Darcy Realizes He Can Have Elizabeth. . . Oh, No!

Seeing them return to Rosings so quickly, Lady Catherine could barely contain her joy. It was tempered almost as soon as they were seated and Darcy announced, "Madam, I understand there are reports of a most alarming nature in circulation. Rumors are being spread that I will marry Anne." He gave his aunt a pointed look.

She looked from one nephew to the other. Colonel Fitzwilliam looked as surprised and undone as she. She demanded, "Why is that alarming?"

Darcy said slowly and emphatically, "Let me be rightly understood. I instantly resolved to make my sentiments known to you when I realized such expectations still exist. My father refused to arrange such a marriage when I came of age."

His aunt said, "Your father thought you were too young then, but he never objected to your marrying Anne. Had he lived, I am sure he would have had you move forward."

When Lady Catherine had raised the idea to his father, the senior Mr. Darcy called his son into the room and said in front of her, "A union of cousins can sometimes be a necessity to consolidate and protect the family's position. This is not true for you and your cousin de Bourgh. Neither needs the wealth nor the influence of the other. Marry if you wish, but feel in no way bound to each other." In Darcy's mind, these were hardly the words that would give his aunt the right to refer to him as engaged to his cousin or on the verge of being so.

"He gave his blessing for our marrying if we wished it. I do not wish it." His voice softening, Darcy added, "Aunt, you must stop saying that my cousin and I will marry. I care for you both as family but beyond that, I will go no further."

"But, Darcy," Lady Catherine moaned. "You have always been so good about visiting -- I thought it was only a matter of time."

"Why did you never ask me? Excuse me for being blunt, but can you honestly say that I have ever shown the slightest interest in Anne?"

"But, who could be better for you than your cousin? Or, you for her? Your mother and hers discussed it when you were in your cradles. It was the dearest wish of both."

"If my mother were here to speak such a wish, much as I loved her, I would also say no to her. I will never make Anne my wife."

"Nephew, what can I offer to make you change your mind? Anything! The marriage settlement can be written exactly as you wish."

"Aunt, this match can never take place." Darcy shook his head in disbelief. "Why are you so insistent that it must be I? If it must be a nephew, you do have others." Darcy glanced toward Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Lady Catherine replied imperiously, as if the answer was obvious. "The union of Rosings and Pemberley would be a crowning achievement for both families, bringing together excellent fortunes and equally illustrious lineages. How can you not want that?"

When Darcy looked unmoved, Lady Catherine's face became sad and forlorn. "My daughter has never been strong. Do you think I could turn her over to the sort of men roaming London during the Season looking for a wife of means? Many would desire her fortune while caring nothing for her feelings. You cannot ask me to put her into their power. Darcy, I can trust only you."

He took a moment to reply. His voice gentle yet firm, he said, "You can trust me to stand by you and my cousin always. I will help you evaluate suitors, if you wish. But I will not marry her."

Colonel Fitzwilliam asked for a moment to speak alone with Darcy. Lady Catherine nodded brusquely and surprised them by rising. While both men insisted they would go off to find someplace else to talk, she waved a hand and left them alone in the room. She was angry, they could see, and they were both grateful she decided to be quiet instead of expressing her frustrations aloud.

"I am sorry to hurt her," Darcy said with a heavy sigh, "but it could not be helped. I cannot believe that she has been holding on to this for so long."

As if he had not heard him, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, "Cousin, are you out of your senses, to be refusing this prize? Being married to Anne is bearable considering the advantages. Many would wish to be as fortunate as you."

"As you were telling me earlier. Perhaps this is your opportunity to ply your case with our aunt."

"You heard her. She wants you."

"Since she has to accept it will not be me, I will speak on your behalf if you wish. If Lady Catherine wishes to ally with a willing man she and Anne can trust, and a gentleman of impeccable standing, who could be better than you? I think she will see reason."

Surprised and touched, the colonel replied, "Thank you, Darcy." He was also curious who his cousin had in mind to marry if not Anne. "It must be someone you have seen recently who has so filled your head because this is the first that I am hearing of it." Slowly, a look of consciousness spread over his face, but he blinked in denial. "You are surely not interested in anyone we have been seeing here in Kent? It must be someone you met in London or -- somewhere else."

Darcy looked downward. His cousin said, "Please tell me that it is not the charming Miss Elizabeth Bennet." Still, Darcy was silent. With a snort, the colonel said, "However upset she is now, Lady Catherine would take that as a direct insult. Luckily, she is not a man because she would surely challenge you to a duel."

In spite of himself, Darcy smiled at the absurdity. "Then I ask that you not speak to her of it. It is not meant to insult my aunt or my cousin."

The colonel opened his mouth, but stopped before speaking. Instead, he went to look out the door and closed it firmly. He then walked to the window on the other side of the room and gestured for his cousin to join him.

Whispering, he asked, "Are you aware that Miss Bennet does not like you?"

"I have realized that recently," Darcy whispered back.

"I thought you always knew, and that was why you were goading and challenging her in those little exchanges you would have ever so often. It was quite entertaining."

Darcy looked away and the colonel snorted in exasperation. "I suppose it's not in my self-interest to say so but if she is the reason you are rejecting Rosings, it's a very bad decision."

"It is not a choice between Rosings and Elizabeth -- or, Anne and Elizabeth. I would not have married our cousin even if I had never met Elizabeth Bennet."

The colonel looked nervously over his shoulder toward the door. "We should be careful talking about this in our aunt's home, but, I hope you did not take my little gibes about Anne to heart! I thought you knew that was all a jest."

"Of course -- I know your humor. By the by, you should be careful in talking with Lady Catherine because she may not always be able to separate your humor from your good intentions. But your remarks about our cousin have nothing to do with my feelings for her. I never liked Anne at all in a way to marry her."

The colonel continued to show a guilty, sorrowful face. "I don't know why. She would be an excellent choice for a wife. And I would never further my own ambitions by influencing you to give up such an opportunity."

"I do not wish to tie myself to a woman with whom I feel I could not truly share my life. I mean no disrespect, cousin, but I am not like you on that point."

"Of course I would also want to like the woman I marry, but how much sharing do you expect?" the colonel asked. "If it's passion you mean, that's ephemeral, especially after the first heat has cooled -- if there was ever heat. Think, man. Rosings!"

When Darcy made no reply, the colonel shrugged and gave him a pitying look. "I take back what I said earlier about knowing you well. I would never have anticipated this." Tossing his head in exasperation, he taunted, "I see that nothing I say will have any effect. Why should the spoiled and pampered master of Pemberley answer to anyone except himself?"

Darcy frowned at the epithet but ignored the personal insult in order to consider whether his cousin was seeing something he had missed. "Are you suggesting that this choice would hurt Georgiana? You know I would never do that, not willingly."

The colonel narrowed his eyes and hesitated. But, then, in a grudging tone, he admitted, "No, I did not mean that. Miss Bennet is a gentlewoman and she will be accepted as your wife if you wish it. She would be a surprising choice but certainly no scandal. Indeed, I suspect many would find her as amusing and intelligent a conversationalist as I do. But Darcy, you could do so much better! I do not understand why, with all you can offer, you fix upon this woman -- there are others who are pretty and witty, and who are from our circle rather than several rungs below."

When Darcy was silent, his cousin harrumphed. "I hope that I was wrong about the kind of wife she is likely to be -- please forgive what I said about her before I knew of your attachment. Certainly, if any man could teach her to hold her sharp tongue, it is you. And, if she is the woman you want, then certainly you can have her. I must admit, I will find it amusing to see how she will suddenly become eager to agree with everything you say!"

This roused Darcy to object somewhat more hotly than he intended. "You insult her to suggest she could be bought easily or would be untrue to her real feelings at the prospect of marriage to a wealthy man. She is no mercenary. She is far better than that!"

Stunned, the colonel stared at his cousin before saying incredulously, "You speak as if you prefer that she not accept you. I intended no insult in saying that she will. How could she not?"

Darcy understood the point. Given her family's situation, he would be an almost impossibly brilliant match for Elizabeth Bennet. That had vaguely been in his mind all along, that is, before he saw how much she disliked him. He had assumed that whenever he made the decision he could have her. Without false modesty, he knew there were few gentlewomen in the land who would refuse him. Certainly, some women of the ton would fly out of the room to order the wedding gown before the last syllable of a marriage proposal left his lips. Accepting the offer of a man such as he would be a sensible act and something a daughter and sibling might well and easily do for her family, if not merely for herself.

Yes, some women, even many women might. Darcy could not share his cousin's certainty that Elizabeth would. But he realized the material point was that he would not have her that way. He did not want to be a prudent decision for her.

It was not merely a matter of pride, though that was some of it. Some less fierce and more tender part of him, too, revolted against the idea of her being sensibly self-sacrificing. She did not have to love him as much as he loved her. He would gladly accept her only liking him. But he did not want her to tolerate him for his wealth, connections and heritage. He put his face in his hands and shook his head. He would never have anticipated feeling this way. But, then, he would never have anticipated loving Elizabeth Bennet. If he had to describe himself at that moment, he would have mentioned exhilaration and despair and the utter lack of knowing what he would do next.

The colonel misunderstood and attempted to reassure him, "Come, man, do not look so disheartened. The problem for you and her has been that she did not know you were interested. If she had realized it, I'm sure she would have acted all along like most of the women of the ton who imagine they have a chance with you."

Chapter 6: Disguise Can Be a Girl's, Eh, Lady's Best Friend

Saturday had been an exhausting day for Darcy. Being confronted by Elizabeth and confronting his aunt drained him. With more than a little trepidation, he accepted Lady Catherine's invitation to stay for dinner. He and the colonel had to delay departing anyway since it was now late. Although two strong men imminently capable of defending themselves, they did not want to take the trouble of traveling in the dark, which ruffians and highwaymen often found their natural element. Still, in the line of his aunt's hawk-like stare, Darcy wondered if perhaps he should not have taken his chance with thieves.

As dinner ended, Darcy feared he might face an even worse challenge in Anne. Weak and frail, she insisted more stoutly than he would ever have suspected that she could, that he sit with her for a private meeting. He thought he knew what was coming and shuddered at the possibility of his aging cousin prostrate on the floor before him, begging him to marry her. As much as he hated to admit it, he could be quite a soft-hearted man with women.

With his little sister Georgiana, he would sometimes pretend to be far sterner than he was because, otherwise, he would find himself giving in easily to her demands and letting her wrap him around her finger. He had learned parents must establish who was in control. Too many smiles and too much acquiescence from her not-that-much-older brother meant she did not go to bed on time and ate too much of the wrong foods and too little of the right. His mind drifted as he recalled how his parenting had recently come upon a significant snag that tore at their relationship, and he had begun to question whether sternness had been entirely the best course.

He brought his mind back to Anne. With her he could not risk being other than stern should she demand and wheedle and God forbid, cry. He did not want to end up married to her because he fell to her tears. That would be foolish.

How surprising it was for him that, when it was all over, Anne was the best part of this awful day.

"I hardly know how to begin," she had said, after dabbing at her nose for what seemed forever to him. "I have something important to ask you but -- I hope I will not seem -- I am trying to think of the best way to say it or even whether I should say it at all." She sighed. "Although it seems we have known each other forever, we have never talked very much. I can only hope that I may rely upon your kindness."

Darcy, now completely bereft of the fiery resolve he had in facing her mother, was not feeling as strong as he thought he would need to be. In fact, he felt paralyzed before this slip of a girl. Her vulnerable statement touched him. She, looking tenuous as a baby bird, touched him. Impossibly thin and pale, she seemed frightened half the time while she fretted irritably the other half. So different, he thought, from her vigorous mother. She was right, of course, that they were fixtures in each other's lives based on the annual Easter visits to Rosings. His mother and hers had been best friends, and in his mother's memory, he never wavered from the visits. He brought a cousin, usually Colonel Fitzwilliam, whenever he could in order to help him get through it. Family and duty were powerful imperatives.

He was surprised that his feelings for Elizabeth Bennet made him feel that much more vulnerable to Anne. He would have felt a special tenderness for his cousin in this instant anyway, but it was deepened by what he had lately learned from his own pain at being disliked by Elizabeth. He rose and went to sit beside his cousin on the couch. "You and your mother can always rely upon me. Never doubt that," he said.

Her eyes wide, she shrank back from him and said weakly, "As you know I am not hardy and could never do all you might expect of me -- as your wife." She punctuated the remark by blowing her nose rather loudly.

He moved away a little to give her more room. "If you are suggesting that your delicate constitution would hamper you in the role of mistress of an estate, certainly not. You would do well, I am sure, especially when aided by an excellent staff. I daresay many men would find it an honor to take care of you and protect you. Many men would wish to be your suitor, if you allow it." He paused and added as gently as he could, but firmly, "I wish that I could say I am one of them. But I cannot."

"You mean you are still refusing to marry me? As you told Mother?" Anne asked in obvious amazement, her voice suddenly stronger.

"Your mother is disappointed that I do not seek a union with you. I care greatly for both of you as your kinsman. You may call on me at any time . . ."

"But you will not marry me? Let us be clear about this." Anne's voice took on a cross and demanding stridency.

"Ah--that is what I am saying. I am deeply sorry, my dear cousin. Again, I apologize --"

A huge grin appeared on Anne's face. "Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, exhaling in relief and clapping her hands together. "For a minute, I was afraid you were going to make an offer. You do not know what a shock you gave me when you came to sit more closely. Would you mind returning to the chair?"

She waited for him to do as she asked, and then, responding to the question on his face, said, "Mother wanted me to appeal to you. In her phrase, to make you see reason. She told me to do whatever I must, even beg. She did not say, on my knees, but I think that was implied." She punctuated her statement with a chuckle, a sound he did not think he had ever heard come from her before.

Feeling just a bit disconcerted, he asked, "How long have you known that your mother wanted this? I only recently learned that she has been talking of it for years -- it has been all the gossip within our family, it seems."

She nodded. "I cannot remember a time when she did not talk about it."

"But since you did not want to marry me, why did you keep silent?"

"As long as you did not seem eager to take Rosings, it was all just as well. In truth, I must admit I was afraid to bring it up. My hope was that you would marry someone else and that would be the end of it. For you to tell her, no, outright is so much better." Anne chuckled gleefully again but continued in a serious voice, "Please, under no circumstances, whatever happens, give in to her demands."

While he wondered what Anne found amiss with him as a prospective husband, he felt that to ask might sound like whining, not to mention superfluous. He assured her, "You are safe from me. We will tell your mother together."

The smile slid from Anne's face as she quickly shook her head and rather frantically waved her hands. "Oh, no, no, no," she said. "Let us just leave it as it is. She must be allowed to think that I pleaded and you refused me -- in the kindest and most cousinly way."

Darcy frowned and raised his hands in a gesture of inquiry. Anne explained, "Think about it, my dear cousin. Do you know of anyone who takes less easily to hearing no than my mother? She accepted it from you because she had to, but I have to live with her when you have left."

"You are asking me to lie?"

Anne took a deep breath. "Perhaps it sounds cowardly to you, but try to put yourself in my place. My mother fears that if I marry the wrong man, it would mean the end to her rule of Rosings. That makes you, in her eyes, the one and perfect suitor. You already honor her almost as a surrogate mother. Also, you have Pemberley and you do not need to live here. You would never make her move into the dower house if Rosings fell to you as my widower." Speaking slowly and distinctly, Anne said, "She would think I betrayed her if she knew I do not want to marry you."

Darcy saw the logic but could still not quite believe it of his aunt. She liked having her own way, but such duplicity? "In trying to persuade me to marry you, she declared she discussed it with my mother when you and I were in our cradles. You are telling me that your mother concocted the idea all by herself in order to hold onto her home?"

Anne shrugged. "Who knows what the truth is? She may have convinced herself it happened as she tells it. Or, perhaps our mothers really did talk. If I wanted to marry you and you wanted Rosings, neither of us would mind. Please understand, I am not insensitive to her fears. If I die leaving neither a husband nor heirs, the estate will return to the de Bourghs. My mother would have to leave Rosings, and she would hate that. But she would be well taken care of."

"You are too young to speak of death -- and the prospect of preceding your mother! I did not realize you felt as weak as this. I have heard of new medical approaches . . ."

"Thank you, but I have never enjoyed good health and have no desire to swallow foul-tasting draughts and to be prodded and stuck. I rather dislike the lot of apothecaries and physicians and such. The surgeons are the most dangerous. None have ever been able to do more than make me feel worse."

"I know of a very good man in London . . ."

"I said no," she cut him off. "As long as I do not exert myself too much, I am fine. Forgive me, but that is why you would be among the last men I would ever seek to marry. Just your fondness for argument and debate would exhaust me and I would spend most of my time trying to keep out of your way!"

He smiled uncomfortably. "Well, I hardly think I would be so frightful as that." He added, "But perhaps you should consider a different cousin, someone Lady Catherine also knows and trusts. I strongly urge you to consider Colonel Fitzwilliam -- "

"The answer is no." She casually added, "Why, during this visit, he has chatted endlessly with that Miss Elizabeth Bennet and barely talked to me."

Darcy looked at her closely for some double meaning but saw none. "Perhaps he thought you were meant for me and your mother would not want him to pay too much attention to you? In fact, I am certain that is why. I'm also sure he did not mean to offend you."

She pursed her lips and said nothing but looked irritated. He had seen a similar stubborn look on Georgiana's face when she wished to go on practicing one of her musical instruments instead of going outside for fresh air. He needed to act in her best interest even if she did not recognize it, and he felt similarly for Anne now. He insisted, "Surely you understand it would be better for you to marry?"

"Because women must marry, if they can. My mother has told me that often, too."

He did not want say that if she did outlive her mother -- and he hoped she would -- her weak health would make it important to have someone primarily responsible for her. It was Darcy's strong opinion that more than even most women, she would need a husband. "I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam would be an excellent choice to take care of you. I trust him."

"Then perhaps you should consider marrying him?" Anne snapped nastily. Darcy bristled before he noticed that her perpetually watery eyes seemed on the verge of overflowing. He asked gently, "Why does the prospect distress you?"

"I don't want to be forced. I--" She hesitated but then said firmly, "I would like a marriage of love, fanciful as that might sound." That literally struck him dumb for a minute. She asked resentfully, "Does it surprise you that such a dull woman as I might wish to loved? That even I dream of being happy in marriage, and not merely settled."

"It does not surprise me at all -- and of course, you are not dull."

She waved a dismissive hand. The gesture paired with a sullen pout suggested that she had not chosen the word at random. Uncomfortably, he wondered whether she had ever overheard any conversation between him and colonel in which that very word might have been uttered. He could not specifically remember but they might have said something over the years. He began, "Sometimes things are said in jest, or carelessly. . ."

"…that are absolutely meant," she finished. "While I am sure the colonel would be honorable and dutiful in the most proper Fitzwilliam way, I am also sure he would be no happier to be married to me than I to him. I want to marry him even less than I want to marry you."

Darcy swallowed but tried to stay on point. "On the contrary, our cousin has told me how much he would like to marry you. Really, he wants this."

Rather than flattered, she looked terrified. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Now that you have declared yourself out, the earl might like the idea of marrying his second son to me. I can just hear him trying to persuade my mother that it would be best for our families. Oh, no." She bowed her head and was such a picture of unhappiness that Darcy almost rose to go comfort her. He waited silently, and after a moment, she looked up, tears falling finally from those moist eyes. She said, "If I may appeal to you for one more favor -- "

"Anything. Name it."

She drew a deep breath to collect herself. "I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop the colonel from asking. But, please do not tell him my true feelings about marrying you. The man talks, meaning no harm perhaps, but still. . . My secret might not be safe with him. I fear my mother would be so angry if she knew I asked you not to marry me, that she'd force me to marry him."

Despite feeling the pinch of divided loyalties, he said immediately, "You can depend upon my discretion."

While he understood marriage to be an important family concern, he faulted his aunt for failing to notice that her daughter was a grown woman. The two of them should have been able to talk openly and say what was on their minds. Instead, Anne was floundering beneath her mother's smothering wing, and in her own way, was being unpleasantly manipulative in order to fight back. But he acquitted her of blame because it must be horrible to be controlled by someone certain they knew best. That thought gave him an uncomfortable twinge, but he could not quite put his finger on the reason.

In his usual kindly way, he begin to think of how he might help Anne. Despite the risk to himself in perhaps raising his aunt's expectations again, he thought of bringing his cousin to Pemberley for a visit to get her away from her mother for awhile. He knew Anne might protest but he was sure Lady Catherine would agree, and he thought this might be just the thing for his cousin. He could help strengthen her, guide her and she would flourish in a better environment. He was sure his cousin would thank him in the end. Perhaps she would even begin to see the value in a marriage between herself and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He could help both of his cousins at once. It might also help him think of something other than Elizabeth Bennet.

Chapter 7: How Can You Not Know This Would Be A Mistake?

Posted on 2013-01-19

They would take their earliest departure Monday, since they would not travel on Sunday. That day always brought a good deal of time to lose oneself in reflections, and this particular Sabbath even more than others. The gentlemen attended church with Lady Catherine and Anne, where Mr. Collins's sermon gave Darcy a lengthy period with nothing to occupy his mind. No wonder Elizabeth Bennet kept entering despite his best efforts to force her out. It also did not help that he could see her, if he looked just over his shoulder, in a nearby pew, with the light falling through the stained-glass window upon her just so.

It illuminated the natural, easy grace of her body, which marked her as a woman who thought very well of herself. It was neither the vanity of the fashionable who delight in feeling that others are inferior nor the self-consciousness of the handsome who think beauty their main recommendation. Her high self-opinion might have put some men off, indeed, might even have been seen as impertinent; but it touched an answering chord in him. It was one of the things that most inflamed his admiration. She was self-assured without being arrogant. He thought that chilly trait would be foreign to someone who, as she had said of herself, dearly loved a laugh. Her ever present good humour made it nearly impossible for her to affront with her manner, even when she was dealing out her most sardonic doses of wit. She always seemed on the verge of saying something amusing or interesting or, just merely sweet.

He caught himself mid-thought and rolled his eyes. Take hold, man. How sentimentally you rhapsodize a woman who does not want you.

At seeing him entering church with his relatives, she had visibly jumped, obviously surprised that he was still in Kent. She tried to cover her inelegant reaction by smiling in the direction of the colonel. Instead of making Darcy want her less, it had an opposite effect. He, who had always despised chasing women as sport, with the goal to win rather than to have, could not ignore that competitiveness was part of what drove him now. Every action of hers that said she would never be his made him want to prove her wrong, to win the argument.

If it had been entirely so simple a craven urge as that, his life would have been far easier. Had it been only that, he might have been able to give up instead of searching for a way to conquer -- her? Himself? He wished he was not cruelly roiled by his feelings, left vulnerable to his need. It baffled him feeling the reality of it that poets would celebrate such an inconvenient thing.

As a rational man . . . the thought was discarded as, from the corner of his eye, he caught Elizabeth looking at him speculatively. She was pondering something, and he could see the tip of her tongue as she ran it over her lips. The sight inspired in him certain thoughts not totally in keeping with his immediate surroundings. Her eyes were half-closed in concentration as if calculating, and he found that lidded look alluring, too -- even knowing that was not her intention. He suspected she was wondering whether to approach him and speak of Bingley again. He hoped desperately she would and he turned to smile at her. She startled, did not smile back and disappeared as the congregation flowed from the church. He could only believe she was avoiding him.

That was when the idea came to him. He told himself it would not be dishonorourable although it was also not strictly honest. Since he was standing near a church and was not struck down by God, he thought it might be within the bounds. He left it at that, not noting the bounds of what.

Darcy sought a far corner of Lady Catherine's rigidly landscaped gardens to request the help of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had just ended a rather distressing meeting with Anne. Darcy had seen him storm out while their cousin stood in the doorway of the same room where Darcy had met with her the day before. She dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief in her usual manner but looked faintly pleased. Darcy listened quietly as the colonel described what sounded like a humiliating experience.

When it was the colonel's turn to listen, he was not as polite and sympathetic. It may have been that he was venting some of his leftover anger from his encounter with Anne. Whether that was part of the reason, the colonel minced no words in calling Darcy's idea ludicrous and reprimanding him sharply. "I never thought to hear you of all men turn yourself into a footstool for a woman, and especially one of inferior circumstances. How can you propose to engage in such a ruse? Rather than your humbling yourself, Miss Bennet should thank you for your attentions."

Darcy responded evenly, "I must insist most emphatically that you refrain from demeaning Miss Elizabeth." After a pause, he conceded, "Her circumstances are unfortunate but once I marry her, we'll never have to see her wretched family again. And, what I suggest to do to win her favor is not a ruse."

He preferred to think of this as a reasonable plan necessitated by an unfortunate situation. He would tell her he wanted to reconsider his advice to Bingley. It would not be a lie because he would not be promising to change his mind or to definitely bring Bingley back to her sister. All he would commit to would be discreetly observing Miss Jane Bennet's reaction to mentions of Bingley. For that, he would need an excuse to be in the Bennet home. Elizabeth could provide that excuse if she would agree to allow him to call on her, and he planned to use his time well in her presence. He would be more forthcoming. He would win her affections before she realized what was happening.

The colonel shook his head. "Take my advice. Just ask her to marry you. I warrant she will say yes straightaway to a man of your wealth and position. It's not necessary to go to all this trouble."

Darcy thought his cousin would never understand his real fear was that she would accept, while feeling no warmth toward him. "I cannot risk her saying no. As a gentleman, I could not pursue a woman who had refused me."

Trying not to be resentful but not completely succeeding, he continued, "She likes you, and she will credit your opinion. I want you to tell her my plan to observe her sister is a good idea."

"I will do as you ask, of course, but believe me, I am more experienced with women …"

That aggravated Darcy to retaliate with what he knew to be a blow below the belt. "Yes, I always bow to your vastly superior knowledge of women. I can only wonder how it happened to have failed you with Anne."

With Darcy out of the running for their cousin's hand, Colonel Fitzwilliam had thought charming her would be an easy matter. After all, it was him or a stranger. He had ignored his cousin's warning about being overconfident. "I never suspected she could be so --" the colonel shuddered -- "vicious." She had sneered that he only wanted to marry her for her money. The idea that the second son of an earl and a hero in His Majesty's Army could behave like a common mercenary was beyond insulting. Of course, her dowry was a factor but he would be a considerate and trustworthy husband. She should be grateful for his interest. "It was most disturbing to learn what really lies under the appearance of all that frailty and weakness."

Darcy disagreed that Anne was playing at being either physically weak or ill and reflected, "Sickly women have as much right to be sharp-tongued as the healthy ones, and perhaps more reason."

The colonel objected, "I think she may be stronger than she lets on."

"As I tried to warn you before you spoke with her, Anne was not flattered by your attentions to Miss Elizabeth Bennet." Silently, Darcy added that neither was he.

"Had I any idea that Anne was noticing and might have cared, I would have behaved differently. But I am glad it turned out this way. She hides her true nature so well that I think her mother would be shocked. I would not have wanted to marry her and find out about her temper afterwards."

"I think the more salient point is, she does not want to marry you. I hope you are not thinking of going to her mother to force her hand. Would you want to marry a woman who does not want you?"

"Exactly! And, I say the same to you. Why stoop to artifice for the sake of a woman who does not want you?"

Darcy, in truth, detested his plan but felt he had no alternative. "Our situations are different. Anne's feelings are based entirely upon how she saw you behave. Miss Elizabeth has been influenced by unfortunate gossip she should never have heard."

The colonel growled, "Are you going to keep on bringing that up? I have apologized. I did not know it was her sister whom you separated from Bingley. I certainly did not mean to give her reason to dislike you."

"I cannot blame you entirely," Darcy conceded. "However, if you recall, I did tell you I had spent time in Hertfordshire with Bingley and you knew that she hailed from that county."

"If you are suggesting I should have inferred the connection, how would I have? I could not know if the woman was from Hertfordshire or somewhere else -- you and Bingley also had spent time in London. Truly, seeing how it was between you and Miss Elizabeth Bennet from the very beginning, the thought crossed my mind that she might be the very woman you separated from Bingley. That would have explained why she did not seem to like you, but then I thought if she was woman, you would surely have mentioned that. The idea that she could have been the sister of the woman did not occur to me. Then, later you tell me, you are interested in her -- can you see how convoluted that is? If the family is not good enough for Bingley, why should it be good enough for you?"

After waiting for Darcy to respond -- but he merely glared -- the colonel continued in the tone of an aggrieved party, "I would not have given her such attention if I had the least inkling that you were interested in her. When you and I are together, women usually pay more attention to you because you're richer and even better looking. I admit I enjoyed her absolute lack of interest in flirting with you. If anything, speaking of your service to Bingley should have left her more impressed with you as a loyal and caring friend. I saw no harm in it and was certain that she could be trusted not to repeat our conversation in any hurtful way. Of course, I realize now I should have been more cautious."

In a murmur both guilt-stricken and accusing, he made his final observation. "But you should have told me who she was." His complaint over, he reluctantly agreed to accompany his cousin to see the lady.

"I appreciate your support," Darcy said.

"You know I will always act in your best interests."

The colonel spoke truthfully. But he also did not waver in his belief that it would be better if Miss Bennet immediately agreed to a marriage. He could see no reason she should not, given all his cousin had to offer. He certainly did not believe Darcy should submit to who knew what unnecessary unpleasantness in a narrow country neighborhood. The colonel thought the little matter of the lady disliking his cousin might prove as immaterial as prejudices are wont to be, when compared to tangible comforts of wealth and property. He was sure his cousin would thank him in the end.

Chapter 8: She Would Have Said No But Misunderstood the Question

Posted on 2013-02-05

With the sun still making its climb to its highest point in the sky, Mr. and Mrs. Collins set out to make some calls in the parish. It was a task the clergyman undertook more often under the influence of his new wife. Mrs. Collins's sister Maria Lucas had left earlier with an acquaintance to go to the village. All had invited Elizabeth to join them and she had begged off. She welcomed the opportunity for a long solitary walk, one of the last that she would be able to take during her final week in Kent.

But no sooner had she watched the Collins's gig drive out of sight in one direction than she turned to see walking toward her Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. She was in the open with nowhere to hide.

"Miss Bennet," called Colonel Fitzwilliam. As much as she would rather not have been set upon by visitors and, particularly, by them, she returned his smile immediately and thought, as she had more than once about him, how admirably he displayed the ease of a well-bred man even in something so simple as a greeting. At the colonel's side, Mr. Darcy displayed his usual hauteur. Feeling her face tighten as she looked at him, she doubled her effort to present a blandly polite demeanor.

"Gentlemen, after seeing you in church yesterday, I did not expect the pleasure of seeing you again. Have you decided to extend your visit at Rosings?"

"No, our visit here is at an end. We will leave directly after seeing you," Mr. Darcy replied, staring tensely at her. Elizabeth surmised he was still upset regarding the harsh words she had for him about separating would-be lovers. When he grimaced at her in church yesterday, that same intense look in his eyes, she had suspected his hostility then. Probably the colonel had made him come this morning, and he resented the imposition.

She said civilly, "Well, I hope your visit was as happy as you could want it to be. I'm sure Lady Catherine must be very sorry to see you leave."

Smiling, the colonel shrugged. "Visitors can sometimes overstay their welcome. I'm sure you would agree from knowing our gentle aunt that she would never tell us if she was tired of us."

Elizabeth would certainly not agree that Lady Catherine would refrain from speaking her mind about anything. She suspected he must be joking but she resisted the impulse to match his humour with any number of sharp remarks she might have made. "You are very too good to remember us, but I am sorry to say you find me alone at the parsonage. I know Mr. Collins especially will be greatly disappointed to have missed you."

The gentlemen looked so far from being unhappy as to seem pleased, and Elizabeth noted how well timed their arrival was to the clergyman's departure. She wondered if they might have heard him say something yesterday at church that would let them know he would be gone this morning. Perhaps they had even stood at a distance to watch his carriage leave before they approached. Knowing he had stood watching for them several times so that he could hail the nephews of his noble patroness, Elizabeth smiled to think they had learned something from his method.

The colonel's next words seemed to confirm her suspicions. "We hoped to have a word with you and it is actually helpful that Mr. Collins is not at home."

She suggested they take advantage of the lovely mid-April day by sitting outside on the comfortable bench in front of the parsonage. While she trusted the servants of the Collins, she knew people at all walks and levels tend to talk. A rumour that she had entertained both nephews of Lady Catherine without a chaperon could be misunderstood under the wrong conditions, but as long as they sat out in the open, it would not even be noted. The men refused all offers of refreshments.

Curious to hear what they wanted, Elizabeth sat in a swing near the bench. Mr. Darcy blurted, "Madam, I have struggled with the unpleasant memories of our last conversation."

She caught Colonel Fitzwilliam's shake of his slightly downturned head. He, in what she considered typical behaviour for the two men, set about smoothing the waters. "My cousin Darcy shared something of that conversation with me, Miss Bennet. I assure you, he wishes there had been no such unpleasantness between you. And he offers an apology if you would be so good as to accept it."

The colonel looked pointedly at his kinsman, who glared and said, "Yes, my cousin is correct. I beg your pardon and I am sorry."

Elizabeth thought the gentleman looked more annoyed than anything else and since he did not specify what he was sorry for, it was an unsatisfying apology. But she was willing to put aside her resentment if he was now open to a discussion in which she might try to persuade him he was wrong. She inclined her head in acceptance and both gentlemen sat down. Although she did not actually regret anything she had said, she was about to acknowledge she had also spoken harshly.

But before she could, the colonel said, "I am glad that is cleared up so that we can address a different matter. Miss Bennet, you are a woman of great sense. You surely know how much I admire you and I believe we have grown to be friends?"

As she speculated about his meaning -- it did not sound as if it had anything to do with Bingley -- she realized he had paused in anticipation of some response from her. She nodded and replied, "I do think of us as friends."

"I hope that we can be more than that in the future."

Her mouth dropped open. He had been clear previously in expressing his lack of intention and she cautioned herself not to leap to any conclusions.

Mr. Darcy said sternly, "Cousin, if you are about to ask what I think you are, it's outrageous that you would dare. I forbid it."

As much as such interference irritated her, she was even more vexed to hear the colonel plead, "Cousin, please, this is a good time -- why put off until later what could better be done now? I am sure we can rely upon Miss Bennet to offer a sensible response that will please . . ." He was cut off by the cold reply: "Heed me. You do not wish to confuse Miss Elizabeth. This is not the right time. Do not try to have your way in this."

She tried not to show the outrage she felt and could not decide which man made her angrier. If the colonel had something to ask her, he should be man enough to ask. But more to the point, he should certainly have known better than to bring along his overbearing cousin who had proven to be firmly against his friends showing interest in Bennet women.

Although she took the trouble to smile, she did not really care if they saw the insincerity in it or if they -- Darcy, really -- felt she was being impertinent to interrupt them. "I must admit, I am curious about what Colonel Fitzwilliam wishes to ask me." She was pleased to see her words leave the other gentleman speechless.

The colonel continued quickly, "When a lady is faced with an offer from a man of excellent prospects and respectable character, an offer the world would deem quite eligible -- she would have to consider that seriously. She would certainly not reject it immediately. Would you agree, Miss Bennet?"

It was not the question she expected. It sounded to her as if the colonel was asking about the marriage proposal from her cousin. When Mr. Collins, the heir to her family's estate as well as a respectable clergyman, made an offer, she had spent very little time considering it. She could not imagine how the colonel would know or why he would care.

After a moment of her bewildered expression, Mr. Darcy said, "Ah, cousin, you see…"

"Just a minute, please, cousin. Let her answer."

She forced herself to speak. "Colonel, may I ask your purpose?"

"I would ask that you would indulge me, my dear madam, for the sake of discussion. Please trust me I have my reasons."

She had found Mr. Collins stupid but she did not wish to explain it that bluntly. "However respectable the man and however excellent his prospects, and even if everyone deems the offer most eligible indeed, a lady always has the right to refuse a gentleman -- and, yes, to refuse immediately."

Mr. Darcy made a short strangled sound so striking that it moved Elizabeth to ask, "Sir, are you well?"

He suddenly seemed to be wincing in pain. But the colonel, with no notice at all of his cousin's distress, said, "I don't understand. What reason would make a woman of sense reject such an offer? Prudence would seem to demand otherwise."

She, looking at Mr. Darcy, whose head was bowed, suggested, "Perhaps we should continue later to allow you to attend to your cousin? He seems to have suddenly taken ill."

"No," the colonel said, "he is fine. Please go on."

She reluctantly continued, "If a woman thinks a man is sorely lacking in sense and intelligence, she might not wish to contemplate a lifetime with him, however excellent his prospects might be."

The colonel eyes widened. "What do you mean? I daresay I hope no one in our present company fits such a description."

"Have no concerns that I am referring to you, of course," she assured him warmly. "Any sensible lady would find you a man of intelligence and knowledge, sir. I have certainly enjoyed our conversations."

"As have I, my dear madam." He beamed at her. Hesitantly, he added, "And I am sure you would extend the same compliment to my cousin Darcy?"

She frowned but remembered after a moment to nod politely. "Of course," she said, looking downward.

"If you would indulge me just a bit further then -- if a man has character, connections, property and sense, would a lady of sense be likely to object to him?"

Although she did not truly think she could say yes to a marriage proposal from the colonel -- if that was what this was -- she was prepared to invite him to call upon her in Hertfordshire in order to know him better. She smiled encouragingly.

The colonel went on, "May I have your opinion, then, based on that reasoning, whether a sensible lady would reject my cousin Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy leapt to his feet, his vigor suggesting he had recovered from the ailment of a minute ago. "Cousin, I insist that you stop right now. Let us not press her for an opinion on me. That is not what we came to discuss. I am sure Miss Elizabeth feels she is not qualified to address such a question -- and has probably never thought about it. It is not necessary." He looked fiercely disgruntled.

At first, Elizabeth was annoyed at the way his pride seemed to revolt at the idea of her judging him -- she could not possibly comment upon the great Mr. Darcy! She could almost laugh at his indignation. But then she realized his reaction might stem from something other than his disdain for her opinion. His friend from childhood, Mr. Wickham, had revealed the long impending betrothal with Miss de Bourgh. Elizabeth had witnessed for herself during this visit how Lady Catherine attempted to push her daughter toward Mr. Darcy. Perhaps he had finally asked and been rejected?

While it surprised Elizabeth that the cross and sickly lady would reject her cousin, it would explain why the men seemed tense as they were leaving their aunt's home. The colonel must have come seeking Elizabeth's opinion to salve Mr. Darcy's wounded feelings, and of course, Mr. Darcy had objected when he realized this intention. So, this was the point of the colonel's strange questions! He was trying to get her to say that any sensible woman would accept Darcy. In fact, such an accolade coming from her might mean more than from many other women since she had never tried to court Darcy's favor. Knowing her to be honest and straightforward, Colonel Fitzwilliam hoped she would offer what the spurned lover needed to hear. You see, no matter what Cousin Anne thinks, any sensible woman, even Miss Elizabeth Bennet (!), would think you are acceptable.

It made a convoluted kind of sense, and Elizabeth could think of no other explanation at the moment for the questions. A small thrill of vengeance shivered through her that the man who had hurt her sister was now reeling under his own pain of disappointed hopes. She also knew that Jane was the last person in the world who would want her to be cruel, even to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth knew how she must act, in the names of both Christian goodness and her sister.

But, still, all things considered, Elizabeth was not Jane. That lady would almost surely have mixed her honesty only with kindness. Elizabeth saw an opportunity she could not resist. She said, "Oh, but I do have an opinion, if I may offer it?"

Darcy replied, "Of course, I would always wish to hear any opinion of yours, Miss Elizabeth."

The gallantry of that remark gave her a slight pause. She reminded herself she planned only to speak the truth. Not quite bold enough to directly address Mr. Darcy, she looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam. "To respond to your question, I am sure many ladies would welcome your cousin's addresses. Although I have not seen his estate, I understand that it is impressive. That alone would tip the balance in his favour for many women. But beyond it, he is also a man of knowledge and sophistication, a man who has lived in the world. And, he has fine looks. Of all men, he should have the least concern about finding a partner in life who suits him. He has much to offer and, I am sure, can choose widely among ladies eager for his approbation."

She could see it was not what Darcy expected from her. His face relaxed and his lips begin to turn upward. She gave him a moment to bask before adding, "Of course, there are other reasons that a woman somewhere might not want to marry even such a man as Mr. Darcy. It should be of no concern to him, I am sure, since so many more would find him. . ." She paused, as if searching for just the right word. Both men leaned forward. She said, "Tolerable." The word hung in the air. Mr. Darcy looked stung while his cousin looked shocked.

The colonel huffily objected, "I assure you, Miss Bennet, women find my cousin far more than tolerable."

Darcy, looking steadily into Elizabeth's eyes, said, "Cousin, I understand what the lady means. The word is well chosen in this instance. I am flattered she thinks many would find me tolerable. But I do recall the word was once used at a certain public dance to refer to a young lady who I can assure you is far more than tolerable and is, indeed, quite handsome, certainly one of the most handsome women I know."

She was at a loss for a minute. If he wished to make her feel petty for bringing up his rudeness, he could not have chosen a better way than being gracious. She said, "You flatter me, sir."

"It is what you are due," Darcy replied. "Only a blind fool could think otherwise."

She was saved from another reply by the colonel, who, it would seem, was so eager to take his share of the conversation that he had not been attending closely. "I agree that any man who missed your loveliness probably has weak vision, Miss Bennet. You must tell me that story sometime, and I am glad my cousin can correct that bumbling idiot's error.

"But my cousin is too modest in letting you call him tolerable. You would know better if you could see how he is received in London. The ladies there would laugh to hear him described with such a paltry term, I assure you. But it is not only his social standing that recommends him. It's his fine, loyal character. He is one of the very best men I know."

Rather than impressed by the salute, Elizabeth saw the colonel in an entirely new light. He was an even more shameless sycophant to his cousin than Mr. Collins to Lady Catherine. She was glad to realize that this strange conversation was obviously not about his making her an offer. She would not want a man who lived so deeply in Darcy's pocket. And, that gentleman's compliment of her beauty had not turned her head in the least. The surprise was that he could speak glibly when he wished and that he deigned to do so with her.

Her blankly unimpressed face seemed only to inspire the colonel to greater heights in singing Darcy's name: "Miss Bennet, what you do not seem to understand is that my cousin comes as close to perfection as could be hoped by anyone. You can trust me infinitely on this. A gentlewoman could ally with no better --"

Mr. Darcy cut him off. "Enough, cousin. I think you can stop helping me. Please."

Helping him do what, she wondered, as the next moment she was startled to hear Darcy declare, "Miss Elizabeth, forgive us for not being straightforward. I requested that Colonel Fitzwilliam accompany me today to offer his support in my proposal . . ."

His proposal? She gasped loudly and Darcy, startled, stopped speaking. They stared at each other for what seemed to both an endless period. The colonel cleared his throat, and Darcy seemed to take that as his cue to speak.

"Miss Elizabeth, since you believe my advice to my friend Bingley was wrong, I propose to find a way to observe your sister again in order to reconsider my advice -- I need to be able to spend time with your family without it being obvious what I am doing. That's why I ask you to allow me to call upon you. It would offer an excuse for your sister to be with us, acting as our chaperone, and I could speak with her discreetly."

Elizabeth shook her head as she struggled to understand what he was asking. "Call upon me? Do you mean you would come with Mr. Bingley as he calls upon Jane?"

"I think it would be best to say nothing to him until I can see for myself what your sister's opinion of him is. If you would allow me to call upon you, I could bring up my friend in her presence and observe her reaction."

Incredulous, Elizabeth said, "You would spend time in a place you dislike, pretend that you were calling upon a woman you do not care for, so that you could observe her sister?"

She saw he looked troubled and concluded that the idea was repugnant to him, despite his suggesting it. She discounted his demurral as civility when he said, "You are wrong regarding my feelings for you, Miss Elizabeth. Indeed, I -- I admire you. To spend time with you as I pursue this -- this task--would be no trial in itself for me. Indeed, I hope we can become better friends as we do this together."

"Mr. Bingley is a fortunate man to have a friend who cares so much for his happiness," she said. "Is this why you and your cousin were asking about a woman marrying a man of character? Was it by way of suggesting that Bingley is such a man? You should know that I never stopped thinking well of him, although it is unfortunate that he let himself be talked into thinking Jane's feelings are not strong."

When she saw Darcy ignore the implied accusation, she continued in a different vein, "You really do not have to put yourself to such trouble. I wish you would believe me when I tell you she already regards him most favorably. Must you insist upon seeing for yourself?"

He sighed heavily and replied, "I hope you will allow it."

"You should also know, Mr. Darcy, that I do not believe your purpose in coming into our home is only to observe Jane." Her words brought a guilty look to his face. She thought, there, I have caught you.

He asked, "What do you mean?"

"Do you not also want to observe our family?" Arrogant, she thought, to think he has the right to control and manage everything. Who does he think he is to take so much upon himself? "You wish to come into our home and spy on us, to see if your estimate of our worth as a family changes."

"No, that is really not what I am doing."

"I will not have my family treated high-handedly or made the objects of anyone's disdain, especially in our own home," she said firmly. She folded her hands in her lap so that he would not see that they trembled. "If I agreed to this, then I would need your word as a gentleman that you would always behave with patience toward my -- toward all of us. I respect that you are concerned for your friend, and I do not claim my family is perfect. But I do not agree they would be the burden for Mr. Bingley that you seem to assume."

"If it makes you uncomfortable for me to be around your family, you and I and your sister could take every opportunity to go on walks. It would probably allow me to learn more of your sister's feelings with just the three of us."

She harrumphed under her breath. "And, if I refuse this offer from you, then Jane would lose all chance of having Mr. Bingley return, because you would say nothing to him."

"I would not wish you to feel that I am forcing you…"

"But is that not exactly what you are doing?"

Seeing how his face tightened and become rigid, she thought she had finally spoken too freely to this man so accustomed to having his own way. Perhaps he would take back the request for her help. A part of her wished he would because then she would not have to make a decision.

He surprised her when he said mildly, "I wish to offer my friend the best advice I can, and honestly, I may not change my mind. But you can rely on me to be fair, and I know I can trust you to recognize that I am. May I have your help, please?"

She looked from one man from the other and saw that both were watching her as if riveted in anticipation of her answer. Daring further, she observed, "Mr. Darcy, I must say, I am surprised that you of all men would propose such a disguise."

The colonel coughed and cleared his throat. Darcy turned to him with a stern expression, and the colonel looked downward. He made not another sound. Elizabeth noted how Darcy turned back to her with a softened manner and she thought that when he tried, he could display something of his cousin's charm. She was not sure she liked it in him but as she was pondering this, Darcy spoke again.

"Madam, I assure you that disguise of any kind is my abhorrence. In this rare instance, I believe it is necessary and will harm no one -- indeed, it is kinder this way. Should I decide against changing my advice, your sister's hopes would not have been raised."

Unmoved by his reflection, she wished that Mr. Bingley did not put such faith in this meddlesome man. She almost missed his next words.

". . . I am doing this for you, Miss Elizabeth."

"Pardon?"

"You were very persuasive. You told me that what matters most in a man's choice of wife is the woman, not her family, and I would keep that in mind if you allow me to come to Longbourn."

It was hardly the sentiment she expected from him, and despite her determination to think poorly of him, she was touched, even flattered. She also recalled with great uneasiness how she had abused Darcy within her father's hearing. Her dislike inspired heights of ridicule. More to herself than to the two men in her company, she said, "Papa will be surprised. Very surprised, I am afraid."

Darcy asked, "Do you think he will object to my calling upon you?"

"How could he?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked in wonder. "What father would object to Darcy?"

Elizabeth smiled tightly and replied, "I will write to him in order that he will be prepared. Of course, we will not tell him your true purpose, Mr. Darcy."

She was to spend some days in London after leaving Kent, but he told her he would go to Hertfordshire straightaway to open Netherfield. He would be awaiting her when she arrived home, and they could start.

Chapter 9: What Manner of Man Could Do This?

Posted on 2013-02-17

With his plan for Elizabeth Bennet's immediate capitulation to his cousin having gone down in defeat, Colonel Fitzwilliam saw that the situation was much worse than he had thought. "You must retreat. For your own good, I implore you."

Although Darcy would not admit it, doubts and fears were overshadowing his customary confidence. He never needed to charm his peers, tenants and servants; women most often attempted to charm him. Elizabeth Bennet was new territory. But he waved his hand dismissively and said, "It's as I told you, she would not have been ready for a proposal of marriage. Nor was I insulted by anything she said. I am not at all distressed that she is honest about her feelings. I very much like that about her."

"Did you sit through the same conversation as I? Did you hear her call you merely tolerable? And, the way she dared speak to you regarding her family -- You had the right of it all along -- had you offered to marry her, I believe she would actually have said no. Egad, it would be far worse if she said yes! She would make you miserable."

When Darcy showed no reaction, the colonel continued in an even more urgent tone, "Cousin, I tremble to think what she, what any woman would do! -- if she realizes the power she has over you. The only thing worse would be her fury if she learned you never had any intention of changing your advice to Bingley."

Frowning, Darcy objected, "I might change my advice. I intend to do exactly what I promised -- to observe honestly and to listen to her sister. It is true I will likely not change my mind, but -- "

"If you fail -- that is, when you fail -- to do as she wishes regarding her sister and your friend Bingley, how quickly do you think she will ask you to leave her home?"

"I trust her good sense to recognize the truth . . . She will see it as I do. She will understand . . ."

Colonel Fitzwilliam announced that although he had already been away from his military duties for awhile, he would take the rather difficult steps to rearrange his obligations in order to accompany Darcy and "protect him from both the Bennets and himself." Darcy said thank you and refused his assistance. The colonel argued, "What would you have done if I had not been with you today?"

"That is exactly why I am determined to go to Hertfordshire alone."

About a fortnight later, Darcy sat having supper in the finest hotel Meryton could offer. It was every bit as ghastly as he would have anticipated in this small market town. He manfully pushed another forkful of the pebbly concoction purported to be potatoes into his mouth and hoped that his first evening back in Hertfordshire was not a harbinger of his days to come.

He would meet the next day with the local agent in charge of the lease at Netherfield. Living there would be far less grating upon his nerves than this hotel. He could have waited and had his man of business make the arrangements, but Darcy had to come anyway in order to visit Mr. Bennet. That gentleman had shown during their few conversations he could be impressively intelligent but unpredictable.

And, Darcy wished to avoid surprises. He would usually expect a man such as the master of Longbourn to refuse him nothing, but as Elizabeth's father, Mr. Bennet could reject him. Darcy did not plan to take no when Elizabeth had already said yes.

Consequently, the master of Pemberley was prepared to strike the negotiating posture he used when necessary with other gentlemen of lower rank. He would not like doing it, and if it turned out he had to be forceful with his beloved's father, it would be better for her not to see it. Darcy wanted to get this discussion out of the way while she was still in London.

He recalled the frisson that flowed throughout his body when she said they would keep their real purpose in his calling on her a secret from her father. He liked the idea of being partners with her, even if it was partners in what she thought a scheme. He liked how she contemplated him, her dark eyes searching his face for reassurance, when she said yes. She was putting her trust in him. When he had smiled down at her and promised, "This will work out for the best for everyone," he meant it as sincerely as anything he had ever said.

So eager had he been to begin that he had considered meeting with Elizabeth and her sister in London, perhaps taking them to the theater. But that could have been awkward should they have run into Bingley. For now, Darcy preferred not to speak of his return to Hertfordshire to his friend. He kept his identity hidden as he took over the Netherfield lease, reasoning that he was not deceiving a friend, but, rather, easing a financial obligation which also carried an onerous emotional burden for poor Bingley. Certainly, he was still too vulnerable to face Miss Jane Bennet and her family.

The London solicitor reported Bingley made only a few half-hearted and easily deflected inquiries about who wished to take over the lease. He seemed more than willing to escape. The solicitor was surprised to see him accompanied by his sisters, who wheedled him to take this unusual chance to let the lease go before the year was up. It amused Darcy to think how upset they -- particularly Miss Caroline Bingley -- would likely have been to know they were abetting his plan to win Elizabeth.

Since Bingley kept no correspondents in the neighborhood of his rented estate, he would not learn by letter who had taken over Netherfield. But he might meet someone in London from Hertfordshire who was in town for the Season and who would casually mention Darcy's presence back there, thinking Bingley must already know. Darcy chewed on the tasteless meal and pondered how he could prevent that from happening.

With his mind completely occupied by the quandary of how to control random events, it took him awhile to realize something was moving steadily closer and filling his line of vision. Two round and soft-looking and not totally unpleasant objects were almost touching him. It was the faint spell of sweat and gravy that shook him from his reverie.

"Does it please you, sir?"

He was suddenly aware of being on the brink of burying his nose in the notably bare expanses of a serving maid's bosom. She was -- there was no other way to put it -- pushing herself into his face. Realizing what was in front of him, he startled and backed away. Darcy looked around but the few other patrons in the room seemed not to notice. Meanwhile, she stepped forward, presenting her bosom as closely again. He moved further back and scowled in protest.

"I am at your service, sir," she said, smiling and showing crooked but relatively white teeth. She was young, probably more than sixteen but not much more. As Darcy shifted his head to escape her, he noticed they were being watched. The gawker stood in a doorway leading to the kitchen and his attire indicated he was the cook.

"Is he looking this way because he wants to know how I liked the meal -- or might he be jealous of the attentions you are giving me?" Darcy asked, hoping to encourage her to leave.

She turned her head to see and, not the least perturbed, replied, "That's my father. It was him what pointed you out as a likely sort."

"Likely for what?"

"I could join you upstairs in your room when you're done, if you like, sir."

Shocked, he blinked before replying, "No, thank you."

"I would be reasonable, sir, and charge you a fair price -- I am sure we can come to term, sir."

Sarcastically, he asked, "Does your offer come as part of every meal your father cooks?"

"No, just for the special gentlemen like yourself, sir," she replied, grinning and fluttering her eyelashes in a way that was probably supposed to be artful and alluring but was merely awkward. It was laughable, but even more, it was sad.

Not that he was some green boy shocked that the world could be wicked. He knew that while gentlemen made it a point of honor to never tamper with gentlewomen, courtesans and other Cyprians were viewed in an entirely different light. Any woman without the proper protection of a man, and that might include many women of the lower classes, could find herself considered game. He pitied this grinning girl who held herself out as guilelessly as she might offer a glass of fresh milk. Surely, the least fastidious rake would not take advantage of someone who seemed this ignorant, even dimwitted.

Had something like this occurred in London or some fashionable watering hole, it would have been disgusting but seemed doubly so in a simple country place. Darcy blamed the Prince Regent, who set an unfortunate example for the nation by never denying himself an indulgence. The money he spent and the vows he broke spread a tolerance for moral looseness. It was much at odds with the principles which Darcy had been given by his parents. He would never countenance this behaviour in his servants or tenants at Pemberley, or allow them to be treated thus.

He shook his head no at the serving maid and, his appetite now completely gone, rose from the table to leave. She lowered her head and looked nervously toward the man in the doorway. Darcy considered walking over to warn against punishing the girl for failing to stir the gentleman's interest. But he quickly dismissed making any effort with someone so thoughtless as to put his daughter at the mercy of other men.

Instead, Darcy handed her a guinea. The shining yellow coin was almost certainly more than she would have expected had he taken her offer. She brightened immediately and thanked him profusely.

"Look here," he interrupted, shaking his finger for emphasis. "I give this to you because I do not want you to come to my door. Do you understand? I will call the magistrate and ask that you be put in gaol if you bother me. You are never to approach me again." In a kindlier voice, he added, "Be careful, child. It's not safe to offer your body this way."

With a sharp intake of breath, she asked, "Oh, are you a man of God, sir? I did not mean to offend you, sir, and if I had known…" she asked, clasping her hands around the guinea as if in prayer. His simple although expensive black attire could have been that of a parson.

"I'm not a clergyman. But I believe both in God's forgiveness and his judgment. Think of that when you are asked to commit the sin of fornication, no matter who tells you to do it."

He was glad that the colonel, who always accused him being too serious, had not heard this. The colonel might have teased, "You should carry copies of Fordyce's Sermons to hand out on such occasions. It would be less costly than giving a guinea to every bit of muslin who hawks her wares to you. Then, again, with your wealth, you can probably afford to give both the Fordyce's and a guinea."

Darcy knew that others might feel forced by poverty to do things he could not conceive, but he had no regrets about trying to make an impression upon the girl. Also, having become his sister's guardian when she was twelve, he had strong convictions about a father's duty to protect and guide. A father such as the serving maid's baffled him, and he suspected the man was driven by greed -- although he was an awful cook.

To shake the incident from his mind before going to bed, Darcy set out for a walk on the poorly lit Meryton streets. He found their emptiness very different from London. Girls seeking their fortunes went there, coming on the town, as selling one's body was called. A few might thrive and find their favors in high demand, some even catering only to elite gentlemen, but most such girls were quickly swallowed up in the bustle and cruelty. They became old quickly unless they died in childbirth before that could happen.

At that very moment, as if his thoughts had taken on corporeal life, he heard a woman's scream. He could have put it down as imaginary because it was a single shriek and then silence reigned again, but he headed toward the spot from which he thought it had come. Sure enough, he heard faint but unmistakable sounds of struggle, and, peering down an alley, he could make out a man and woman in the darkness.

"Get off me, you awful scoundrel, you!" she hissed.

"Oh, stop! You know you want this. Stop pretending and come up to my room with me. You will like what I have for you even more than you liked my kisses, I promise. You don't want anyone to hear you screaming out here."

She responded in a hushed tone that Darcy could not quite hear, and she did not scream for help again. Neither she nor her companion had noticed his presence in the shadows. He walked warily toward them. The cad wore the red uniform of the militia, a unit of which had been stationed in Meryton since Autumn. While Darcy could see he was taller and larger than the soldier, interrupting a fight of any nature always carried risks. The soldiers inspired nothing less than adulation among many women. If this particular woman had agreed to meet this man, she might well turn upon her rescuer rather than be gratified at his efforts. What manner of woman meets a man in an alley -- and he thought of the serving girl who had just offered him her body for the night.

Just as Darcy opened his mouth to shout to the man stop bothering the woman if she did not want to be bothered, another woman darted across the alley. She must have come from behind the scrabbling couple, somewhat perpendicular to where Darcy was positioned. She was wielding aloft a stick -- no, it was a green parasol, incongruously out of place in the darkness. The second woman was noticeably shorter than the first, and both were well-dressed in white muslin frocks.

Darcy now looked about in all directions in case the attacker also had comrades-in-arms who would rush from the darkness as the second woman had. He wished he had the pistol he always carried when he traveled, but it was in his room at the hotel. He was going to shout and run toward the threesome and hoped the element of surprise would sweeten the odds in his favor, should all three decide to turn upon him.

But then he was himself surprised as the second woman began striking the man about his shoulders and head. The cad seemed to barely notice at first until he turned to swat her away as one might a troublesome insect. To do so, he released his hold on one arm of the other woman. His distraction gave that one just the break she needed to bring her fist hard into his face.

Both he and she cried out in pain at the same time, she apparently because she had hurt her hand. It was an excellent punch. Darcy wondered if it was luck on her part or if perhaps she had learned it by witnessing pugilist contests that were all the rage. She might be the sort of girl whose family would let her attend such things, although they were usually the province of men.

The man covered his face with both hands, reflexively attempting to stanch his nosebleed. The second woman, wielding the parasol in both hands, took the opportunity to strike his bowed head. She managed several good whacks as he screeched and cursed foully. Backing away, he tripped and fell. Both women began kicking him, and they were wearing sturdy boots rather than slippers. As soon as he could stumble to his feet, he ran away in the direction from which the second woman had entered the alley.

Darcy, smiling to think what story the man would make up to explain his injuries, also planned to learn the soldier's name and report him to Colonel Forster, who would surely see the behaviour as an insult to the community that hosted his company. Out of respect for the girls' privacy, Darcy thought he would try to keep their identities out of it. He guessed from their relatively expensive clothing that they were the offspring of some local prosperous shop owner. He thought briefly of trying to speak directly to their father, but that might be useless if the man presently exerted so little control over them that they were running about the streets at night and meeting with soldiers. The wild chits might shrug off any fatherly reprimand.

Darcy cleared his throat to announce his presence as he walked out of the shadows toward the startled and tense pair. Holding his hands up, he assured them, "I mean you no harm." Once close enough to clearly see their faces, he exclaimed involuntarily, "No!" Before him were the two youngest Bennet sisters.

The smaller one, who was actually the elder of the two, he recalled, stammered, "Mr. -- Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes," he replied curtly.

"What are you doing here?"

"No, the better question, is what are you doing here?" To himself, Darcy was saying, this was even worse than he feared. Such behavior by the gently bred girls could destroy the family's reputation. Darcy looked about again, hoping no one had witnessed this incident.

"Lydia was meeting a beau," the older girl -- Catherine? -- said.

"Don't tell him anything!"

"Well, you were. I begged you not to when you said it would be romantic! Meeting in secret after dusk in an alley -- I told you this was an idiotic thing to do. You thought you could trust him just because you played some games with him --"

"Kitty, be quiet!"

"No, you never listen me, and now you see --"

Lydia started humming loudly to drown out her sister's voice. Darcy raised his voice, surprising both girls into silence. Speaking quietly again, he said, "Miss Lydia, your sister has the right of it. I saw what happened. Who was that man? Is he an officer in the militia? No gentleman would ask a gentlewoman to meet him alone in the night. And in such a place as this!"

"He said it would be fun, an adventure," Lydia whined. "He said if I met him, we could talk freely without anyone watching, not like at home. I did not think …" She stopped, her trembling lower lip turning into a pout. "Why do you care?" she asked sullenly. "It's no concern of yours."

"Your father will want to attend to this matter."

She stamped her foot like a petulant two-year old. Her red face defiant, she demanded, "No, you must not. He would -- no, you must not tell him. If you say anything to Papa, I will tell him you beckoned me into this alley and attacked me."

"What?" Darcy asked, hardly believing he had heard correctly.

"He will demand that you marry me," Lydia replied, with an irritating air of certainty. "Kitty is my witness. It will be our word against yours. Surely, you would not want that to happen anymore than I do. So, you will tell my father nothing."

A voice that sounded suspiciously like the colonel told him to leave this town and this family while he still had the chance. Darcy even hesitated long enough to look over his shoulder to see if somehow his cousin had followed him after all and was now shouting fresh cautions. But, no, it was only himself alone in an alley with two Bennet sisters.

He took a deep breath as he reminded himself that this ill-bred hoyden might someday have a close connection to him, although certainly not as his wife. For all her bluster, Lydia had no idea of the cliff on which she was perched.

Taking care to speak in words of as few syllables as possible, he explained, "Your story would not be enough to force me to marry you, not even with your sister as your witness. By accusing me, you would admit that you had been walking at night alone, as no gentlewoman ever should. If it were believed that I arranged a rendezvous, that is, that I asked you meet me, it would be assumed that you agreed. That would brand you as -- as a very low woman, indeed. The minute you would make such a declaration, you would ruin your reputation as well as that of your sisters. Do you know of the word doxy? It is an ugly term of contempt, applied to a woman considered to have low morals and you might be called that name."

A girl who barely ever attended anything anyone said for long and whose own mouth was seldom idle, Lydia looked at Darcy with wide eyes. No one ever treated her like her boringly serious and homely sister Mary or even the better-looking but boringly behaved older sisters. Lydia liked being the popular younger one with whom men knew they could always laugh. But Darcy spoke as if he expected her to be intelligent enough to understand his harsh message.

"I am a rich man, and some people might even assume you were willing to sell yourself to me. No one would think that I wanted to marry you, not if I asked to meet with you in this way. If I wanted to marry you, I would come to your home and see you openly in the presence of your family. Miss Lydia, given who you are and who I am, a young lady like you could say little that would ruin my reputation as a gentleman. You could only ruin yourself -- and probably your sisters in the bargain."

Frowning and squinting slightly, she asked slowly, "You are saying that because I am a woman and you are a man that I would be blamed?"

"Standards are different for a gentleman and a lady," Darcy said gently. As he watched her absorb his words, he noted that she was womanly in her figure and already taller than her sister Elizabeth. In fact, her size reminded him of his own sister. With a sigh, he added, "A lady's reputation is like the finest crystal. Beautiful and valuable, but worthless if shattered."

Lydia stubbornly shook her head. "You are trying to frighten me. All I want is for you to go away and leave me alone. I will say nothing of tonight if you say nothing."

In a tone filled with insinuation, the second to youngest Bennet daughter spoke up. "Lydia, are you afraid that if Mr. Darcy tells Papa, he will not let you go all by yourself to Brighton?"

"Quiet, Kitty."

"Go to Brighton?" It was one of the Prince Regent's favorite playgrounds. "By herself?"

"Lydia has been invited by the Colonel Forster's wife. The militia will be camped there for the summer. Mrs. Forster should have invited me, too, because I am the oldest," Kitty said resentfully.

"With soldiers?" Darcy asked, stunned with horror at that prospect. "The two of you in Brighton with a camp full of soldiers? You really think your father would allow this?"

"He has already said yes." Lydia looked speculatively at her sister. "And, Kitty, I could try to fix it so you could come, too."

The older girl looked sceptical. "After tonight, Lydia, I'm not sure that it is a good idea for either of us. I was able to help you this evening because I followed you, though you told me not to. And, I thought to bring something with me. I wished I had a better weapon but at least this was something." She held up the bloodied and ruined parasol.

"That's why you should come to Brighton with me."

"But suppose I am not able to help you next time?"

"Oh, stop worrying, Kitty. The officers would never hurt us, well, most of them would not. We'll go to balls and dance and it will be wonderful. We will be so admired. And, now we know who to avoid."

"Whom," Darcy muttered under his breath and rolling his eyes.

"No, Lydia. I don't think I would want to go now even if you could get Mrs. Forster to invite me, too. But you would probably not try anyway. You would keep promising until the moment you climb into the coach, and then you would shout back at me that she said no. And you would laugh. I know you, Lydia."

"Kitty," Lydia said, drawing out the syllables of her sister's name. "You can trust me. We are best friends, are we not?"

"When you want something from me, we are. It is so unfair that Mrs. Forster asked you and not me -- you are not even sixteen yet."

Lydia blurted, "Oh, stop being tiresome. I'll be sixteen in June, very soon after we leave in May. And, I am Mrs. Forster's particular friend, so it's only right that I should go."

Darcy almost laughed aloud at the boast Lydia could not seem to help making. He knew it was exactly the wrong thing for her to say to her sister at that moment, and he was glad to hear it.

Kitty retorted, "No, you will not go to Brighton. You will go to Papa and tell him that you have decided to stay home after all. If you do not, I will tell him the name of the officer you were meeting and how I had to beat the scoundrel off you. What do you think Papa would do? You would not be able to go out for months, maybe years!"

"It will be my word against yours. I'll just tell Papa -- and Mama -- that I have no idea what you are talking about. And that you're just jealous and trying to keep me away from Brighton."

Kitty harrumphed and it turned into a cough. When she caught her breath again, she squeaked in a weak but nonetheless determined voice, "Even Mama will not believe you if I have Mr. Darcy as my witness."

Both girls looked to the usually taciturn Darcy, standing by with a smile so cheeky that it almost looked like a smirk. "I would be happy to assist you, Miss Catherine, in telling the truth."

Lydia pleaded, "Kitty, please be reasonable!"

"I'm tired of you always having your way and I'm two years older than you. If I must spend the summer here, so shall you! Tomorrow you will tell Papa you have changed your mind and you don't want to go. Or, else I will tell what you did tonight."

"But you would be punished, too, just like me."

"Perhaps. Probably. I will say nothing as long as you stay home." Kitty looked up at the Darcy and asked, "Sir, will you keep our secret about what you saw tonight? Please?"

Her plea made him think more minutely of what would happen once Mr. Bennet knew. As husbands do, he would probably share it with his wife. And, that made Darcy hesitate. The last thing he wanted known was that any sister of Elizabeth had been seen meeting with soldiers in dark alleys, and from what he recalled about the two youngest Bennet daughters, such a rumour would be believed. He did not think Mrs. Bennet would spread the story on purpose, but he had seen how she could be when excited.

It was directly from her lips that he had learned her vulgar plans to use Bingley as a path to other rich men for her daughters. Seeking prudent marriages was understandable but to loudly announce it in such terms showed exceedingly poor judgment. It was no great leap to think that in an incautious moment, she might allow a servant overhear her discussing the family's worst secret. Then, she would forever wonder who could ever have started the gossip.

Detesting the necessity to interfere in another man's home, Darcy said, "I will say nothing to your father about tonight, and in return, neither of you will go to Brighton. Please do not think you can agree but take back your word once I have left town. I plan to be here for few fortnights."

He also had great hopes for eventually persuading Miss Catherine to divulge the secret of the cad's name. Probably the man never expected the silly young Bennet girls would have anyone except their father, a man known for not liking to take a lot of trouble with anything, to look into the matter.

Unwilling to let the girls out of his sight, Darcy walked them out of Meryton. He kept looking all around him to see if someone might spy them, but the girls knew paths that kept them out of window views, and they were well hidden by the cover of night. Uneasily, he realized it seemed they had done this before. How often, he wondered. And, what exactly had they done? He knew he must do something although he could not be certain what yet.

Once they reached the gate of Longbourn, he watched while they stealthily made their way to the side of the house and entered through a half-hidden door there. Darcy consoled himself that he had seen the worst from the Bennet family this evening, and now he was prepared. Despite knowing the situation of her family was more dire than he had thought, his devotion to Elizabeth did not waver. Of course, he would never speak to anyone of the lengths to which he was willing to go for her. He had learned that lesson well after speaking to the colonel of what he did for Bingley.