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Author’s Note: My thanks go to Cheryl K for inspiring this and essentially providing the plot, and for permission to build on her story, Crossing Paths. This story is continued in Intertwined Paths.

Posted on 2010-07-10

"Merry Christmas, Lizzy!"

"Merry Christmas, Aunt Gardiner!" Elizabeth Bennet replied, offering her cheek for her aunt's kiss and kissing her in return. She similarly greeted her uncle, and each of her four little cousins. Well, no longer so little --Alicia was now ten years old, and in some ways quite the young lady, and the others were also grown notably. But it was a great pleasure to be with them again. Now that the Gardiners had arrived the family party at Longbourn was complete.

Not that everybody was staying at Longbourn, of course. Kitty's husband, John Haverford, was not extremely well-to-do, but he was a sensible man, and he evidently counted it money well-spent to rent Purvis Lodge (dreadful attics notwithstanding) for the duration of their stay in Hertfordshire. A reasonable investment in the preservation of sanity, Elizabeth concurred. Of course, with Lydia and her husband, Lieutenant Henry Larch, joining them there at Kitty's invitation, the benefits would be somewhat diluted. Longbourn itself was certainly full enough: Mrs. Bennet's nerves were enough to make the house seem overfull even under normal circumstances, with only herself, Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth (besides the servants) in residence, but now Mary and her husband William Collins, the Gardiners with their four children, and even Jane and Charles Bingley were staying there, in addition to a servant or two attached to each family. Jane and Charles would have done well to open Netherfield, and in fact they had come to realise this, and intended to retire to that house after Boxing Day. Elizabeth would be joining them in the new year.

Meanwhile, the commotion at Longbourn was great, but by and large it was a happy commotion. After the special Christmas morning service at church, and the flurry of excitement over the giving and receiving of gifts, they all sat down together to a wonderful Christmas dinner. Mrs. Bennet's kitchen staff had outdone themselves, and the many removes of succulent vegetables, tender cuts of meat, fragrant and spicy ragouts, jellies, breads, pastries, and other offerings, followed by the traditional figgy pudding, made the meal a gastronomical delight.

The conversation around the table was somewhat disjointed, given the diversity of personalities present. A cordial conversation between the Gardiners, Elizabeth and Jane had little appeal for Mrs. Bennet or Lydia or the Phillipses; what was natural for Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth could provoke some understanding, admiration and even occasional participation from John Haverford and the Gardiners, tolerance from Jane Bingley, and ennui from Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, but went completely over the heads of Henry Larch and of course Mr. Collins and to some extent even Charles Bingley. Conversation between Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughter revolved around fashions and lace, which was of little interest to many of the others, but at least there was less silliness about officers or other potential beaux than there would have been a couple of years earlier. Still, Mrs. Bennet did make several pointed comments, to at least Elizabeth's and Jane's and Mrs. Gardiner's discomfort, about young men whom her remaining single daughter had refused to encourage and how vexing such behaviour was.

Whatever Mr. Collins said was bound to be in some degree risible to some and irritating to others, but on this occasion he refrained from referencing the mistress of Rosings Park more than four times during the entire course of the meal, which was a marked improvement over past performances. The chimney-pieces and windows of Rosings did not, in fact, figure in the conversation at all. If Elizabeth was moved to reply to one of his pronouncements in a way that enabled her to say, with the proper intonation and widening of the eyes, the magic words, "Lady Catherine DeBourgh," he was not aware that he and his Patroness were being laughed at, and even so his wife came to his defence, saying, not without affection, "Lizzy, behave yourself!" Mary Collins had grown up considerably in the last two years, and that maturity was manifested in this case by her remaining largely silent, refraining from any ethical and moral pontifications of her own, and neither restraining nor encouraging her husband in his. Catherine Haverford's improvement was shown in her entering agreeably into several different conversations, with a notable absence of querulousness or complaint in her comments and with several quite pertinent, even intelligent contributions.

Nevertheless, despite the diversity, all were able to agree in general, if not in every particular, with the sentiments expressed by Mr. Bennet himself when he rose to offer a toast at the end of the meal.

"Christmas is a time for family to come together and reflect on the good gifts we have received. While I am not known for such speeches, I am not devoid of gratitude. Providence has smiled upon us. You, my brothers and sisters, are prosperous and well, and your children are in the one case" (here he bowed towards the Phillipses) "grown and settled, and in the other case" (and now towards the Gardiners) "proceeding apace towards that troublesome age mine have now survived. You, my four sons, have demonstrated admirable valour in joining our family, and considerable fortitude in continuing to associate with us, even going so far as to brave Christmas here at Longbourn. I salute you. Four of you, my daughters, are well married, and no longer as silly as you once were; and my Lizzy is left to me, to laugh at life with me. You, my dear Mrs. Bennet, have been given the opportunity to exercise your nerves most thoroughly upon the occasions of the girls' marriages; and now we may look forward to a new opportunity, or perhaps I might say, two new opportunities, to exercise them further. And therefore I ask you all to join me in a toast: To the coming generation! May they help us enjoy, and themselves enjoy, many happy Christmases such as this."

"Hear, hear!" they all joined in.¹

Some time later, when the family were gathered in the drawing room and music room (for they were too many to fit in either room alone), Elizabeth found herself in desultory conversation with her two favourite brothers, John Haverford and Charles Bingley. Charles she liked for his unfailing and unflappable amiability, and because he had made Jane so happy, and John she liked because he had a fair measure of wit and an abundance of good sense. He had had the wit to see the potential in Kitty, and his common sense was in fact helping her to grow into that potential. Henry Larch, whether fortunately or unfortunately for their marital felicity, was not as empty-headed as his wife, though the competition was close --closer than Elizabeth was comfortable with--, and Mr. Collins (Elizabeth could never think of him as "William") was … Mr. Collins.

"So, Lizzy," Charles asked, "Are you going to like being an aunt? Not that I have any doubt you will be a good one."

He and John, Elizabeth reflected, are so inordinately proud of the fact that they are to be fathers, it is only their good manners that prevent them from standing up on chairs, flapping their wings and crowing!

"You need only watch her with the Gardiners' children to know that," John commented, and Elizabeth blushed.

"I think it is to be my life's work," she returned. "Jane and I used to plan it so: she was to marry a wonderful man, handsome, agreeable and of large fortune, who should have the discrimination and taste to properly appreciate and thus to fall in love with her; and that of course is where you entered the picture, Charles. Subsequently, you were to have some great number --I forget if it was to be a half-dozen or ten-- children, for whom I was to be the old maid aunt, who should teach the girls to embroider ill, as I do, and encourage the boys to climb trees and bring frogs into the house and engage in sundry other forms of mischief. I shall be happy to perform the same office for your and Kitty's children, John."

But as she retired that night, she had to restrain a sigh. Her words had been spoken in jest, but she feared they were only too true. Still, she reminded herself, Charlotte had found happiness at nine and twenty years of age, and she had six years to go before she reached that venerable age. And should she become desperate, surely there was another Mr. Collins out there somewhere!

Note:

¹ Although a few of them were actually saying "Here! Here!" (voting 'present' rather than 'yea').

Chapter 2

On Boxing Day, before the family was due to leave for church for the morning services,² an express rider arrived with a message for Charles Bingley. Elizabeth was in the dining room with him and Jane and the Gardiners when he opened the message.

"Well! Here's a surprise! Darcy, who told me not a week ago that he was unlikely to come visit us any time soon, now tells me that he wants to come this week! He hopes to arrive on the 30th, and will bring his sister and her baby daughter with him. That is good. … He does not wish to impose on us and is quite willing to put up at an inn, but will hope to call upon us, whether at Netherfield or at Longbourn --fancy him remembering that name, though he always was a clever chap-- soon after their arrival. …Well, that is capital! It is good that we had chosen to open Netherfield anyway, my dear --we shall certainly have them there. I must send him word to that effect, again by express, I expect, that it reach him in time. But I wonder what is behind this: Mrs. Wickham (that's his sister) can only just have arrived at Pemberley; why would they immediately remove here to Hertfordshire?"

"So it is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley," commented Aunt Gardiner. "I wondered when I heard the name. I was not aware that he was a friend of yours, Charles."

Pemberley, Elizabeth was thinking. I certainly remember Pemberley. I don't believe we saw a more beautiful place in all our travels that summer. She smiled reminiscently at her aunt. I remember hearing of Charles' friend and his sister, but like Aunt Gardiner, I did not know that they were from that family!

"Yes indeed! He is the best of fellows, a true prince of a man. For a time in the past we were very close --I intended for him to stand up with me at our wedding, in fact, but his sister lost a child just at that time, and of course he had to be with her. We have not coincided often since then, and you have never met him, have you, my dear?" Jane shook her head. "But as I was saying, I stopped by Pemberley just this past Tuesday, on my way down here, and broke my fast most enjoyably with him. He told me then that he was expecting his sister to come for Christmas and I invited him to visit us whenever he could. I'm remembering just now that he even sent his greetings to your family, and particularly to you and your sisters, my love."

"I have always heard good things about that family from my friends in Lambton," Mrs. Gardiner contributed. "Oh, by the way, Lizzy, do you remember Olivia Kittredge, there in Lambton?"

"Yes, indeed, I do," Elizabeth replied. "What a warm, friendly person she was."

"A very poor correspondent, however, as a rule," replied her aunt. "The mention of Pemberley has put me in mind of this: a week or so ago I received a most unusual letter from her, asking (among other things) after you, Lizzy. She particularly wished to know if you were married yet. I thought that a bit odd, and her handwriting was not at all as I had remembered it. She did say that she has suffered from an inflammation of the joints and finds difficulty writing, which could account for it, of course. Be that as it may, I will show you the letter this afternoon, if you like."

"Why don't you bring it on a walk with me, Aunt. We have not had a chance for a good talk since you have arrived."

"As long as we do not exaggerate the distance we expect to cover on the said walk, I believe that would be an excellent plan."

After church and the following luncheon Elizabeth and her aunt did take a walk, although, Elizabeth being a considerate soul, they did not go so much as a mile beyond the borders of Longbourn, and on their way back stopped at a place where Mr. Bennet had had a bench placed near a grove of trees. The winter sun penetrated there, the trees being leafless and thinner towards the south, and the two women felt warm enough to enjoy their tête-à-tête for some time.

"Tell me truly, Lizzy, how are you doing?"

"I am well, Aunt. I miss Jane when she is not here, and my other sisters. I have spent considerable time practising the pianoforte, and am gratified to feel that I am much improved in my performance. I spend time with Papa in the library, which brings me great enjoyment. It is trying at times, being the sole object of Mother's attention. One might suppose that with four daughters successfully married, and Longbourn destined to go to one of them, she would rest on her laurels and leave me in peace, but her recriminations for the wasted opportunities of the past and her suggestions and instructions for the future continue unabated. And you know as well as I how unlikely it is that Father will take it upon himself to restrain her"

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Gardiner laughed indulgently.

"To be honest, Aunt, at times I do feel a bit melancholic. Especially now, with both Jane and Kitty in the family way. I confess that I would wish to be married and to have a home and a husband and children of my own to love, but I have not even met, much less attracted the eye of, any man whom I would even be willing, and certainly not one I would wish, to marry. I suppose I am still holding out for my handsome Prince, be he named Charming or otherwise. But the waiting is a rather lonely activity, or inactivity, at times."

"And yet, you continue to attract the young men like bees to clover, Lizzy, do you not? How many proposals have you rejected?"

"No, no, you exaggerate. As for proposals, only the two you know of, Aunt. Since then I have done much better at detecting the symptoms of an incipient declaration or even a budding attraction that I know to be hopeless, and deflecting the person's attentions, and intentions, elsewhere. I believe I may count two of my sisters' marriages to my credit; Mr. Collins of course is very much happier with Mary than he could ever have been with me, and John Haverford, with whom I still share a warm regard, is much better suited for Kitty than for me, and they both know it. My friend Charlotte, too, is married to a fine man whom I encouraged towards her. A fine man, but he would not have done for me. Am I overly fastidious, aunt?"

"No, my dear. Fastidiousness, in many cases, and certainly in yours, is but the exercise of good judgement. A good marriage can be a most wonderful part of a truly happy life, but a bad marriage is one of the most painful things one could ever experience, or even observe. Even a mediocre marriage may bring less happiness than grief. I entreat you, as I have so many times before, do not marry someone you cannot respect, like and even love. To do so is a recipe for misery. And of course, as you have said, a man who is perfectly suited for one woman is not for another. Dear Charles, for instance, is perfect for our Jane, but if you were married to him, either you would have to change your ways, which would be a great pity and not at all easy for you, or else you would keep him constantly somewhere between flummoxed and unsettled, which could not be healthy for the poor man. You need someone of very considerable wit, just to keep up with you. So, keep being fastidious, my dear, and perhaps your Prince Charming, or a Professor Charming, will yet come along and sweep you off your feet. I trust your good sense enough that when he shows up you will not reject him out of hand, but will see, or take time to learn to see, his good qualities, and appreciate him for them."

"What would I ever do without my wise, kind aunt?"

"Lizzy, when would you like to come to us this year? I mean, besides our summer tour --I am determined that this year we shall make it to the Lakes. But, what if you were to come to us near the beginning of the Season, in February or March? We would love to have you with us, and be delighted to schedule a few evenings at the theatre and the concert hall. We invite you, of course, knowing that you will entirely lift from us the burden of caring for our children, as you always do, but that has nothing to do with it, I assure you!"

"They are such dear children, it is always a pleasure to care for them -- well, play with them is a more accurate description, as you know! As for the invitation, I should love it above all things, Aunt. Thank you! This shall indeed be an expectation and a hope to lift me from the doldrums and allow my nerves a chance to exercise themselves. Hence, vile Melancholy! Welcome! and take up your abode in my bosom, sweet, fluttering Anticipation!… Now Aunt, what is this about a letter from Olivia Kittredge?"

"Ah, yes, Lizzy. Here it is."

Dear Maddy, Elizabeth read,

I hope you and yours are well. How are the children? You must bring them one day to visit us here. Have you heard from Mary Colton since she and Mr. Colton moved to London? No one here has had news of them.

We are all well, though I have been suffering from an inflammation of the joints, which hinders me when I write. My Sam sends his greetings. Yesterday he brought his friend Joseph home, praps you remember him. He was remembering Miss Bennett, who came with you last time you visited, and wondering what had happened to her. Is she well, and has she married yet? It was good to remember your visit.

You may not have heard about old Mrs. Larkinson's passing away last month. You will be sorry not to see her when next you visit Darbyshire, which I hope will be soon.

I look forward to Christmas, as I am sure you do as well. May it be a happy time for your children, and all the others. Greet Mr. Gardiner for us.

Your friend,

Olivia Kittredge

"Curious, is it not?" asked Mrs. Gardiner.

"I suppose I lack a close enough acquaintance with Mrs. Kittredge to detect what is surprising about it: it seems much like what I might have expected her to write."

"Well the handwriting is one thing. It does not look like hers. She is left-handed, you know, and her handwriting slopes to the left. This does not. Even if the inflammation in her joints is nearly crippling her hand it doesn't seem like that would change, does it?"

"No, it does not. It is curious, and somehow the hand looks vaguely familiar to me. I wonder when or where I might have seen it. But it looks less than fluently written. Perhaps her affliction is severe enough that she has had to learn to write with her right hand? Or perhaps she had to get someone else to write it?"

"Oh, I hope it is nothing that bad. You know, Olivia may seem quite old to you, but she is my contemporary. Well, no doubt I also seem ancient to you, but we are not fifteen years your seniors, and not of the age where one expects to be afflicted by such arthritic conditions as she references. … Another curious thing -- Olivia was always an excellent speller, one of the best in the school."

"I would wager that you were the other one."

"It is a wager you would win," her aunt said with pardonable pride. "In any case, I would not expect her to spell Derbyshire with an 'a', and although she may say 'praps', she certainly knows not to spell it that way. Of course, many people misspell your name, so that means nothing. Other than that, I am only puzzled by her interest in you, and particularly in your married or unmarried state."

"Did you answer the letter?"

"I did, within a day of my receipt of it. As regards yourself I simply denied that you were married, said that you were at your home in Hertfordshire, and added that you often allude to our trip to Derbyshire with great pleasure."

"Do you know who Joseph is?"

"I believe he may be the gardener who took us on our tour of Pemberley's park."

"Oh, yes, I remember him. Joseph Packer …? No. Something like that, though."

"Padgett."

"That's right. Oh, well, it is curious, but not a great matter, I suppose. And now, Aunt, are you chilly enough to be ready to return to the house?"

Note:

² Cheryl K's story has the 17th of December as a Sunday and Christmas Eve on a Saturday. In fact both 17th and 24th December 1813 fell on Fridays. Here we follow the standard calendar.

Chapter 3

Mr. Darcy, his sister and his niece arrived at Netherfield about mid-afternoon of the 30th of December. Despite a short spell of bad weather on the second day of their trip down, they had made good time, leaving before full light each morning and once travelling a full hour after dark, despite the dangers of the icy roads.

Jane Bingley, standing beside her husband to receive them, noted that Mr. Darcy was a tall man, well-dressed and quite handsome, but what impressed her more was the gentle care with which he handed his sister down from the coach and then turned to receive her child from a nursemaid and helped her down. Mrs. Wickham, she noted, also was handsome, though her quiet and composed manner seemed to bear an edge of sadness. The baby was handed back to the nursemaid, and then another servant, undoubtedly Mrs. Wickham's maid, was handed down from the coach. An elderly manservant, presumably Mr. Darcy's valet, brought up the rear.

Charles greeted his friend enthusiastically, and turning to Jane, said, "My dear, you have heard much of Mr. Darcy, and I am delighted to finally be able to present him to you. Darcy, this is my wife Jane, who has taught me what it is to be truly happy."

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bingley. From all I have heard, my good friend has indeed been even more fortunate than he deserves, and it is a pleasure to witness his felicity. May I present to you my sister, Georgiana Wickham? Georgiana, this is Mrs. Jane Bingley."

Mrs. Wickham and Jane curtseyed towards each other, and expressed their pleasure in meeting each other, and Jane expressed an interest in meeting her daughter. As the nursemaid brought her forward, Mrs. Wickham's face lost its tinge of sadness and she stretched out her arms to her baby, who reached out to her mother with a great smile. The two women were soon chatting in the friendliest manner. Mrs. Wickham admitted that her darling Anne Elizabeth was the great joy of her life, and when Jane, by then holding the baby in her own arms, confided that she was herself in the family way and could hardly contain her anticipation of the same happiness, the two women felt that they were already friends. Jane offered to show the visitors to their rooms so that they could refresh themselves from the road, and they agreed to meet in a half an hour for luncheon.

"Well, Jane," said Charles when they were alone, "you seem to have made another conquest."

"Mrs. Wickham? She has indeed shown herself most friendly."

"No, I was referring to her brother. Perhaps you were not aware of it, but the entire time you and his sister were talking his eyes were on you. It was hard to extract from him a coherent comment or answer to my questions, and that is not like Darcy, you know. I think it is a good thing that I found and married you before he had a chance."

"Oh, Charles, you always flatter me. I suspect he wanted to make certain that I was a fit acquaintance for his sister. My family are far below their level of society, and he does seem to be solicitous of her welfare."

"Well, if that was the case I am sure he was satisfied. He seemed quite pleased with what he saw."

"Charles, you are not jealous, are you? My heart is yours, as you well know."

"Well, I think I need you to remind me," he said soulfully. And so of course she did.

Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy and his sister were also discussing their meeting, and specifically Mrs. Bingley. "Oh, Fitzwilliam," Georgiana exclaimed, "I like her very much! So beautiful, and gentle and kind."

"Yes," her brother replied. "Although I cannot see why people would think her superior to her sister. She is uncommonly beautiful, I grant you, and her gentleness and kindliness match what I have been told of her. What fascinate me are the subtle likenesses I see."

"I am very eager to meet her," Georgiana replied. "I think I will try to see what I can learn about her this afternoon."

As they were partaking of their luncheon some time later, she turned to Jane and said, "Tell me of your family, Mrs. Bingley. I understand you have several sisters?"

"Yes," Jane replied. "We are five sisters. Our father is the master of Longbourn, a small estate which lies about three miles from here. Just now we were all together for Christmas, though Mary and her husband have returned into Kent, and Lydia and her husband must leave tomorrow morning to return to his regiment, which is quartered near Bath. There is an Assembly ball in Meryton tomorrow evening, in celebration of the new year. If you would care to come you could meet Lizzy and Kitty at that time."

"Is Mary the sister who is married to Mr. Collins, then?" asked Darcy. "Miss Elizabeth, I understand, is the one who is especially close to you."

"Yes, Mary was the first of us to marry, and yes, Lizzy is … well, after Charles she is the person I love most in the world. We are very close. But how did you know of my sisters?"

"Bingley has spoken to me of them, on occasion, and I had heard that one of them had married my aunt's parson. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is, you see, our aunt."

"Tell me of your sister Elizabeth," said Georgiana. "What is she like, and why do you love her so much?"

"Lizzy is … Lizzy is … she is wise, she is witty, she loves fiercely. Her manners are lively, even playful, but correct; she is a great tease, but she is never rude or cruel. Some have thought me to be the beauty of the family," --here Jane blushed-- "but Lizzy, when her eyes light up and her smile breaks forth, outshines me far. A house comes alive when Lizzy is in it; her laugh is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world and one of her great talents is for finding reasons to laugh. She claims to be a musician of only moderate skill, but her playing and singing reach the heart as the music of few does. She is ... tenacious in the pursuit and defence of what she sees as right and good. Of course," Jane added with a laugh, "if you are so unfortunate as to disagree with her as to what is right and good, you may perceive that tenacity as something less admirable: I believe the words 'obstinate', and even 'stubborn' have occasionally been employed in such a context! The other side of that adherence to what is right and wise and good is that Lizzy is quick to perceive foolishness, whether to denounce it or to laugh at it, and she quickly becomes angry when she perceives injustice. But there is no one I know who is quicker to understand and to forgive."

"Yes …" murmured Mr. Darcy fondly, and Jane looked at him in some surprise, but then he said, "And you, Bingley, do you concur at all points with this paean of praise to your sister-in-law?"

"I cannot claim to love Lizzy as much as Jane does," Charles said, "and she certainly is not as beautiful as Jane is, though I grant that she is very pretty. I also at times find her intimidating --her mind is so quick and mine is usually several steps behind. But in general, yes, I agree. Her manners are, as Jane said, delightful; her loyalty to Jane, and by extension to me, and indeed to all those she loves, is unswerving. Her counsel has proven invaluable on a number of occasions, and her presence in our home is always a most welcome pleasure. She is to be here with us after the new year, you know, so you shall have a chance to know her well."

"What does she look like?" asked Georgiana. "Do you possibly have a portrait of her that we could see? I must confess to a great desire to meet her, after all I have heard."

"As it happens, I do," said Jane. "Two years ago my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, whom you may also meet at the Assembly if you wish, had the two of us sit for portraits and secretly commissioned the artists to also make miniatures at the same time, one of me to be given to Lizzy and one of Lizzy for me. I should be glad to show it to you; it is one of my greatest treasures. Perhaps, as we have finished eating, you might conduct them to the music room, Charles, whilst I fetch it."

As they took their seats in the music room, Charles commented "When I had known Jane and Lizzy only a few days, my sisters invited Jane to tea with them here at Netherfield. For a combination of reasons she was obliged to come on horseback, was caught in a rainstorm, and came down with rather a bad cold, which prevented her returning home. The next morning, quite early, I was confronted by the sight of Miss Elizabeth, who, lacking any other means of transportation, had walked the three miles from Longbourn, totally undeterred by the muddy state of the roads, and eager to be taken to her sister's bedside. She stayed with her sister day and night, with hardly a respite and with nary a thought of how she put her own health at risk, for the next three days, until Jane was recovered. Such devotion, I have come to know, was nothing unusual, but rather is simply who she is."

Jane had come into the room during this speech, and said, "Indeed, that is Lizzy. Though her walking here rather than waiting for the carriage may not have reflected solely her devotion to me but rather also her pleasure in a long walk in whatever weather."

"Indeed," murmured Mr. Darcy, and it sounded more like an expression of agreement than one of surprise. Jane could have sworn it was a reminiscent smile that passed over his face.

"Here, Mrs. Wickham," said Jane, "this is what my sister looks like. Or rather, it is a representation of what she looks like, and a good one, though it fails to capture the liveliness of her eyes."

Georgiana, after examining the portrait for about half a minute, passed it to her brother, looking at him inquiringly. He gave it but a glance before he nodded slightly to her, a pleased expression on his face and a light in his eye. Then he gazed raptly at the miniature for several minutes, while the conversation went on around him. Finally, with a sigh, he passed it back to Georgiana, who examined it again for a time before handing it back to Jane. Jane was watching all this and wondering what to make of it. By this time the conversation had moved on to other topics, but Jane was left with the distinct impression that any interest of Mr. Darcy's in herself was nothing to his interest in her sister, and that indeed he knew much more about Lizzy than there was any explanation for. If Mrs. Wickham had not been asking her brother whether the portrait matched his knowledge, and if he had not reassured her that it did before losing himself in the contemplation of it, well, she was much mistaken.

Jane spent an agreeable hour with Mrs. Wickham that afternoon while Bingley tended to estate business in his study and Darcy worked on his correspondence in the library. They came together at dinner, and enjoyed each other's company afterwards as well. Anne Elizabeth was with them during much of the evening, and, being in a happy mood, kept Jane and her guest well entertained for more than an hour, while Bingley and Darcy watched fondly and spoke of other matters. Jane noted that Mr. Darcy seemed to enjoy his interactions with his niece, whom he treated with a mixture of tenderness with a sort of respectful courtesy that few would accord to so small a child. Jane found it charming, and apparently Anne Elizabeth did so as well; it was clear that "Unca" was someone she liked very much.

There was a moment of unexpected awkwardness when Jane commented that Anne must be missing her father, and inquired as to the whereabouts of Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Wickham was nonplussed and looked, with a pleading expression, towards her brother. He, in turn, looked up from his conversation with Bingley to say, in a tone of some finality, that actually they were unsure of Mr. Wickham's current location, as he had been travelling recently, and was not expected to be with them during the next few weeks. Jane of course perceived that she had been politely steered away if not positively warned off from the topic, and did not return to it.

Some time later Bingley commented to his wife about her enjoyment of little Anne, saying, "It awakes in me even more eagerness for the time when we will be able to see our own little Jane growing up."

"Ah, but what if we get a little Lizzy!" his wife replied. "Lizzy, I don't doubt, was more like little Anne, here, as a baby: so lively and quick. I am sure I was more quiet, and, I doubt not, placid to the point of being boring. I do not remember Lizzy younger than perhaps four or five years of age, but my memories from that point on, coupled with my mother's laments and certain teasing comments of my father's, convince me that she was rather a challenge, as she grew up, especially to my mother's nerves. Certainly not boring."

"That she would never be," said Mr. Darcy, with another fond smile, just as his sister said, "Oh, Mrs. Bingley, I am certain you both were delightful children." Jane smiled appreciatively at Mrs. Wickham, but added the brother's comment to her other sources of puzzlement.

The next morning Jane left Charles still abed and made her way early down to the breakfast room, to ensure that all was ready for their guests. She was joined there a few minutes later by Mr. Darcy, who had come looking for a cup of coffee. Jane decided to take advantage of the opportunity and approach directly the matter that was concerning her.

"Mr. Darcy," she said, "may I speak very frankly with you?"

"I should be honoured, madam," he said.

"I am intrigued, but also a bit concerned, by what seems to me your almost inordinate interest in my sister Elizabeth. As far as I know you have never met or even seen her. Yet your interest is clear, and you seem to have sources of information about her that I know nothing of. Lizzy is a strong woman, the strongest I know, but she is also, as I suppose all women are, vulnerable, and because I love her so very dearly I feel protective of her. What is your connection with her, sir? What intentions do you have where she is concerned?"

"Mrs. Bingley, I perceive that your sister is not the only wise and discerning woman of your family. You have indeed seen correctly that I have a deep interest in your sister. I can assure you that I intend her no harm whatsoever --quite the contrary, in fact--, and what other intentions I may wish to harbour will depend entirely upon her choices: I will force her to nothing, nor try to influence her to anything against her will. I have not met her, and yet I do indeed already know so much about her that I am very eager to do so."

"Where have you acquired your knowledge of her?"

"I acquired it from a person, a mutual friend, whose identity I cannot at this point disclose --you in fact would find it hard to believe who she is. My hope shall be to tell you at some point in the near future, but I will not do so before I can enlighten Miss Bennet as well."

To whom could he be referring? Jane wondered. Who knew Lizzy as well as this implied? Charlotte? But when would Charlotte have come in contact with Mr. Darcy? True, Lincolnshire, where Mr. and Mrs. Stanley now resided, was in the north, but it was not very close to Derbyshire. Aunt Gardiner? But surely Aunt Gardiner would have mentioned it the other morning, had it been so.

"Perhaps I might solicit your advice, madam?"

"Certainly, Mr. Darcy."

"I had contemplated inducing Bingley and you to take Georgiana and me to Longbourn today, in the hope that we might make Miss Bennet's acquaintance, but upon hearing of the planned ball at the assembly room this evening, well, I have a particular reason for finding attractive the idea of first encountering her there. Would you have any reason to suggest one over the other of these options?"

"I think your idea of waiting until the assembly is a good one. Longbourn will be in a more than common commotion this morning during the normal calling hours, with Lydia and Henry coming by to say farewell --my mother's farewells with my youngest sister are always particularly emotional. Then the preparations for the ball will take precedence, and even though Lizzy would ready herself with little fuss, Mother is unlikely to allow her the luxury of much peace. If you wish to get to know my sister, Mr. Darcy, I would recommend you make her acquaintance at the assembly. As you may know, she is to come here to spend a week with us beginning on Sunday after the services, and at that time you shall have many opportunities for your acquaintance to develop."

"Very well, madam, I shall follow your advice. May I say, Mrs. Bingley, that I had been predisposed, by what I had previously heard, to find Miss Bennet's favourite sister, who had been one of the strongest influences that helped make her what she is, to be an extraordinary woman. What I have observed of you has confirmed that information entirely. Bingley is indeed a fortunate man. I salute you."

Jane blushed, but was not deterred. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do have a further question, sir. Your having heard of Lizzy from a friend explains much, but not everything. You knew her well enough to recognise her from her portrait, did you not? And your sister knew that you would."

"Did I not say you were perceptive, Mrs. Bingley? You are correct, I did know what she would look like, and the miniature confirmed my expectations. I cannot explain this, not until I tell you the whole story. I only ask you, once again, to believe that I mean no harm whatsoever to your sister, quite the contrary; that I respect and admire her very highly, and that I am consequently very eager to meet her."

That afternoon Elizabeth received a note from her sister:

Lizzy,

I hope you are surviving events at Longbourn, and particularly that you are finding time to enjoy the Gardiners' company. Please encourage them to come to the ball this evening if by any chance they might be inclined to beg off. I believe you shall have a surprise this evening, which I hope shall be to your taste, and I would be glad for them to witness your pleasure.

Mr. Darcy and his sister, Mrs. Wickham, have been most agreeable company, and Mrs. Wickham particularly has asked to be introduced to you. I believe that you shall find that the two of you have many tastes in common, including especially your preferences in music and interest in literature.

I look forward to seeing you tonight,

Your sister,

Jane

P.S. Oh, Lizzy, I am truly excited for you!

Chapter 4

The Bennets and the Gardiners were among the first to arrive at the Meryton Assembly hall for the New Year's Eve ball. Elizabeth anticipated a pleasurable evening: she enjoyed dancing and she enjoyed talking with her friends. In addition, Jane's note had piqued her interest. She looked forward to meeting Mrs. Wickham, and of course wondered what might be the surprise which had Jane so excited. Despite her mother's discouragement, Elizabeth had chosen a ball-gown which was a favourite of hers because she found it comfortable and because, in her own flawed opinion, its deep cranberry colour quite became her. For these reasons she had already worn it three times, which was entirely too many for Mrs. Bennet's contentment, and furthermore it was possessed of far too few decorative touches: there was very little ribbon and hardly any lace to be seen on it. Nevertheless Elizabeth was confident that she looked well, and Sarah had achieved a very comfortable and becoming style for her hair to go with it.

Mrs. Bennet had been enjoining her, all afternoon, to be sure to make herself agreeable to Mr. Darcy, who as far as she could discover was quite unattached, and though she had doubts of how sincere his friendship was with Mr. Bingley, given that he had neglected to so much as visit the Bingleys in the nearly two years since their marriage --what a slight to dear Jane!--, it was still a connection to be desired and promoted. His possession of the mighty estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire, the praises of which she had heard Lizzy and her sister Gardiner singing to each other, coupled with the rumours that his income was all of £10,000 a year, made it imperative that Lizzy pursue the acquaintance. The net result of all her admonitions and exhortations was that, had it not been for Jane's encouraging note, Elizabeth would have been inclined to doubt that she wished to encounter either Mr. Darcy or his sister at all.

As the Bingleys entered the room many eyes were on them --they were, after all, a striking couple, and had been spending so much time in the north that the Meryton folk were not inured to seeing them. However, almost all eyes, including those of the Bennets and Gardiners, were quick to turn to the couple directly behind them, who were also, it must be admitted, very handsome, and whose appearance had the added attraction of being completely novel. The rumour of Mr. Darcy's income and the certain information that he was a single man were of course factors considerably enhancing the attractiveness of his looks in the general estimation. Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth noted, was taller than Mr. Bingley, and darker, but did not have his friend's broadly smiling aspect; his sister was also tall and handsome. Perhaps she was not so beautiful as Jane, but she had a pleasing countenance, and her gown, though simple and not of the latest mode (in fact Elizabeth heard one of the Misses Long snickering that it was not one but two years out of date), was beautiful and well-made, and it was apparent even at that distance that it was fashioned from extremely fine fabrics. She gave the impression somehow at once of a very young woman, Lydia's or Kitty's age; and yet a woman of experience, considerably older than Elizabeth or Jane.

Elizabeth's eyes had returned to Mr. Darcy's face, and she was just beginning to admit how handsome his expression of dignified reserve really was, when his glance found hers, and she saw him catch his breath. His eyes locked onto hers, with an expression of … of what? … she couldn't analyse all the complex emotions it seemed to convey, though it appeared to include such improbable and incongruous things as tenderness, and determination, and relief, and excitement, and recognition, and joy, and … she knew not what else, but suddenly feeling unaccountably shy, she forced her gaze downward. She found herself breathing hard. She headed, a little uncertainly, over to where her aunt stood beside her mother, not looking again at Mr. Darcy (and quite forgetting about Mrs. Wickham, whom she had thought herself to be more interested in knowing), but only a few seconds after she arrived there, Mr. Darcy and his party were there as well. She noted with surprise the fact that her thoughts had been so focussed on him that she had thought not only of Charles, but of Jane herself, as one of the party accompanying him instead of the other way around. Her shyness increased to such an extent that she simply could not look at him, but she listened to the introductions, and managed to raise her eyes enough to see Mrs. Wickham looking at her with a friendly eye.

After the pair had been introduced to her mother and her aunt it was her turn, so she gathered her courage, released her lower lip from its gentle captivity under her upper teeth, and put a smile on her face to greet her sister's guests. She could see almost as a physical shock the effect of her dawning smile on Mr. Darcy's face. The man recoiled almost as if she had sprayed cold water in his face, but his surprise, if that was what it was, quickly turned into a smile of his own: he practically glowed with contentment. She quickly lowered her eyes again, but he immediately moved over to speak with her.

"Miss Bennet," he said, "I cannot express what a delight it is to meet you. I am truly overwhelmed. Your sister and brother had been telling me of you, but all of their praise --and believe me it was considerable-- was not enough to adequately prepare me for the very great pleasure I am feeling at this moment."

Flatterer! she thought. But when he continued, "I very much hope your dance card is not yet full. Would the first set still be available, and if so would you honour me with your hand for it?" she graciously acceded to his request, even as she turned to speak with his sister.

Her heart quieted down and she got her breath back enough to start a conversation, and had to admit, after a few minutes, that she was indeed enjoying their interaction. Mrs. Wickham seemed eager to be pleased with her, not in the least standoffish. She wondered why she had unconsciously expected it to be different, and concluded that it must be from the memory of hearing her mentioned by Charles' sister Caroline over two years ago, before Jane and Charles had become engaged and apparently before Mrs. Wickham's own marriage. Miss Bingley had clearly esteemed Miss Darcy's many virtues and accomplishments almost as highly as her own, and had spoken as if Charles and Miss Darcy were destined to make a match; so Elizabeth, conceiving of Miss Darcy as a rival to Jane and imagining her as another Miss Bingley, had not, as she now realised, had very cordial expectations of her. But now she perceived that Mrs. Wickham was a person she could really like, and this realisation improved on what was already a good start to the evening.

She was peripherally aware of the other conversations around her, and was struck by Mr. Darcy's politeness to her mother, and his cordiality to her aunt. The connection between those two, arising from Aunt Gardiner's childhood in the village of Lambton, only a few miles from Pemberley, was quickly discovered, but that in no way lessened Elizabeth's astonishment when she heard Mr. Darcy ask her aunt if she would stand up with him for a set. He suggested the fourth set, as he had the first three already bespoken, and was accepted.

The dancers began forming up for the first set, and Elizabeth, conscious of the high honour that had been bestowed upon her, took her place across from Mr. Darcy in the line. It was a dance that allowed a little conversation, albeit as with most dances it was conversation constantly interrupted by intervals of separation. But Mr. Darcy was so confident and light on his feet, and graceful though exact in his movements, that Elizabeth was able to enjoy both the dance and the conversation. It is not reasonable to expect an author to record the movements of the dance, though it might be mentioned that Elizabeth found her thoughts considerably distracted and confused by the moments when her hand rested in Mr. Darcy's as part of the sequence. We shall instead concentrate on what was said.

"Miss Bennet, I believe you were accusing me of mendacity not long ago, in your thoughts," was his opening gambit.

"What? Do you read my thoughts?" she asked.

"Am I right?"

"Yes, I thought you were flattering me."

"Far be it from me. Truly, madam, in general I try very hard to avoid falsehood, and in this particular case I certainly meant every word I said."

Flatterer! she thought, and he said, with an air of triumph, "See, you are thinking it again!"

"Very well, sir," she replied, with a little choke of laughter. "I will accept that you are sincere in your compliments, besides being quite adept at the art of mind-reading."

"Does this concession apply to future compliments as well as past ones?"

"I suppose it must include any future ones, since I have it upon the highest authority --your own-- that you only speak the truth. Only take care not to let the compliments become too outrageous, lest you strain my credulity and your own credibility."

"Very well, Miss Bennet." He paused as if considering his next move. "Miss Bennet, perhaps I may ask your advice regarding a dilemma I have encountered. I have already resolved the dilemma one way, but find myself still desiring the other resolution as well. Is it possible to have one's cake and eat it too?"

"I suppose that would depend on the nature of the dilemma, sir."

"The dilemma was this: I was quite determined to gain your hand for the first dance if at all possible, and am most gratified by my success. But I was equally desirous of procuring your company for the supper set, since then I could escort you to supper, and I am as eager for conversation with you as for dancing. Might it be possible that both of my wishes be gratified?"

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth could not think of anything else to say; her eyes flew to his, and encountered a look so laden with something she didn't want to analyse yet that she almost missed a turn in the dance and certainly missed the first chance to reply to him. Then she said, "Are you sure you want …?" The dance took another turn before she could decide how to finish her question.

"Oh yes," he answered with a smile. "There is no question regarding that; I most definitely want. …The question is rather whether you want …" He waited another turn. "Please, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, you may have the dinner dance as well, Mr. Darcy." She had to look away again as his face lit up with delight. "And now, may we turn the conversation away from me to less embarrassing topics?"

"Very well," he replied, "I am willing to attempt whatever topic you would like, though perhaps … [the dance interrupted them again] … I might suggest that we avoid maritime law, and the differential calculus, and cookery, as being somewhat less than ideal topics."

"Oh, how diverting! What can you tell me of cookery?"

"Why, that French cookery, while admirable, is not that much better than good English cookery, that with any style of cooking the freshness of the ingredients is a major consideration in achieving success, and that there is a satisfaction to eating a loaf of bread you yourself have made that can hardly be achieved in any other way."

"You have not made your own bread?"

"Oh, but I have. It was excellent bread, too, if I do say so myself. Of course it was made under the tutelage of Pemberley's cook and according to her recipe, so one might argue that it was bound to be, and no credit to me that it was, good."

And so they passed the time most agreeably until the two dances came to a close. Mr. Darcy pressed Elizabeth's hand before releasing it and said, "Madam, I look forward with the greatest of pleasure to our next dance. I will now give you the compliment I earlier withheld lest you claim your credulity was strained. It should not be. You, madam, are in superb looks tonight. You far outshine every other woman in the room, even including your older sister. I have never seen a woman look more beautiful than you do this night."

Once again, Elizabeth was left speechless, blushing bright red, as she followed Mr. Darcy reproachfully with her eyes, and he once looked laughingly, but somehow seriously at the same time, back at her.

"What did he say," asked Charles, who had engaged her for the second set and had just come up to claim her hand.

"He … he … paid me an outrageous compliment," she replied. "My credulity is strained. Well," she slightly shook her head, then said with a smile, "shall we join the others?"

She enjoyed her dances with Charles, and with John Haverford, though she would have been hard put to remember what they talked of, except that Charles did comment on how Darcy seemed to be enjoying himself. Mr. Darcy's second set of dances was with his sister, and his third with Jane. Elizabeth was especially interested to witness his dances with Aunt Gardiner: she herself was standing up with Rupert Goulding for that set. They seemed to enjoy each other's company very much, but when she caught a snatch of their conversation and realised that they were talking about her, it made all her shyness return, so strongly that Rupert wondered if he had offended her.

It was during the break between the fourth and fifth sets that Elizabeth had a chance to speak with Jane.

"So, Lizzy, what do you think?"

Elizabeth did not pretend to be puzzled as to what Jane referred to --which was in itself a tell-tale sign that she was far from unaffected. "It is most extraordinary. Never have I been so …"

"Has he asked you for another dance yet? I have been certain that he would."

"Yes, I have given him the supper dance. But … his interest is so surprising. Have you any idea what … what has motivated him to be so particular in his attentions?"

"All I can tell you is that it has been so from their first arrival at Netherfield," Jane assured her. "Both he and his sister have been very eager to hear any and every thing about you, yet for him what we told them often seemed more a confirmation of what he already expected than new information. It is as if he already knew you well and was strongly drawn to you before he ever arrived here. I questioned him directly this morning, and he confirmed most unhesitatingly that he was very eager to meet you. He assured me that he does indeed know of you, through a mutual friend, though I have no idea who that may be, and that his information has led him to esteem and admire you highly."

She paused, then whispered impulsively, "Lizzy, might this be the one you have waited for these years?"

Mr. Darcy did not dance during the set Elizabeth danced with her uncle, who teased her about her admirer, drawing attention to the way his eyes followed quite constantly as she moved up and down the line. It was during that dance that she saw Mrs. Wickham come up and whisper in her brother's ear, and him whisper back. What she did not know was what they were saying.

She had said, "I believe I can guess the subject of your reverie."

He had replied, "Very probably you can, at least in general outline."

"You were meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

"That, and the pleasure of watching her light and supple figure as she moves through the dance. If you wish to be truly shocked I can tell you more."

"Fitzwilliam, you are so besotted over her, I expect her mother will begin putting her trousseau together, directly they arrive back at home."

"Even so she may lack the time to finish it, if I have my way," was his reply. "I am indeed far gone, Georgiana. She is all that I remembered and hoped." She squeezed his shoulder and left him to his meditations.

When the supper dances began, Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy most sincerely, "Please, sir, no more compliments. I cannot enjoy blushing any more this evening."

"Very well," he replied. "But that cannot stop me from thinking them, now can it?" Which of course made her blush, whereupon he followed it up by saying, in a feigned apologetic tone, "Indeed I cannot help it!" which made her laugh and then blush all the more. But then he took pity on her, and they danced most of the first dance in silence. Still, his eyes were on her whenever she raised her own eyes enough to see, and the absence of conversation increased her awareness of the sensations engendered whenever their hands would touch in the dance. During the second dance she asked him about Pemberley, and he spoke almost eloquently, and at some length, about the place he loved so well. He referred particularly to the parts of it that she had seen, mentioning that her aunt had told him of their visit, and spoke of her seeing the different apartments inside the house in the future, not in terms of if it should happen, but of when.

He escorted her in to supper (for the repast that had been prepared was not elaborate enough to be considered a dinner) with her hand on his arm. It felt to her as if her whole body were shaking from the contact, and she wondered if he could feel her trembling. But the meal itself was comfortable and in fact a great pleasure. They sat with Mrs. Wickham and across from the Bingleys, and the conversation and laughter flowed freely and easily among them. Mr. Darcy was very attentive to her and his sister's needs, keeping their wine-glasses and their plates filled, and bringing them coffee afterwards, and picking up Elizabeth's napkin the time she managed, with an excited gesticulation (they were talking about an incident in which a pig had gotten loose at the Hertfordshire County fair) to dislodge it so that it fell to the floor. She did not need to do a thing during the entire time other than enjoy the company and the food. Mr. Darcy seemed to understand perfectly her bent towards teasing, and entered into repartee with her to such effect that he bested her several times, which she greatly enjoyed. Mrs. Wickham seemed a little taken aback by their liveliness, especially at first, but with time seemed to grow more comfortable with it.

There was a short break after the meal, for those who wished to do so to freshen up before the later dances commenced, but Mr. Darcy seemed reluctant to leave her side. As they stood by the table, smiling in reminiscence over something that had been said, he suddenly turned to her, caught up her hand and then released it. "Miss Bennet," he said, "This has already been very nearly the most memorable evening of my life, and you have favoured me far beyond my deserts. Nevertheless I will make bold to ask you for yet another favour. Is the last dance still available on your card? May I request it?"

Elizabeth was astonished beyond measure. A third set, even by the relaxed standards of the countryside, was tantamount to a declaration of his intent and her acquiescence --only a courting or an engaged couple would dare to indulge themselves so far. "Sir, you do me great honour, but I am not inclined to accept. Only think …"

"…what everyone would say," he finished for her. He smiled understandingly. "I am not surprised at your reply," he responded, "and I will in no wise insist. I am afraid I am frightening you." Elizabeth smiled both at the accuracy of his conjecture and the speed with which her apprehension diminished as his sympathetic concern for her feelings became apparent through his words. "There is nothing that I want less than to distress you in any way. Nevertheless, disguise of every sort is my abhorrence, and so I would have you know how very much I value your company. That you should prefer not to dance a third time with one you have met only this evening is more than understandable, but I am glad for you to know that it would have been my desire, and that I would not mind the world knowing it to be so."

He danced the next with Kitty, and, so Kitty told her later, talked mostly about what it was like to grow up as Elizabeth's younger sister. Later Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy talking with her uncle Gardiner, and with her brother Haverford. As the evening drew near a close, and Sir William Lucas called everyone's attention to the fact that the clock lacked only a few minutes of midnight, Mr. Darcy appeared at Elizabeth's side, bearing three goblets of punch with which to toast the new year. He offered one of them to his sister and another to her, with his wishes that this year would bring health and great happiness to each of them, and after the clock had struck the hour and they had toasted each other and their neighbours and drunk the punch, he took her goblet and his sister's and set them on a side table with his own. Then he turned to her.

"This evening," he said, "has been as a fairy-tale for me, though I am grateful that my Cinderella did not disappear from the ball at the stroke of midnight. I am filled with great and joyful hopes for the new year. Since I cannot have the last dance with you, Princess Elizabeth, I shall take my leave. I can only thank you for a most magical time in your company, and ask whether your family are to receive visitors tomorrow. I would be glad to further my acquaintance with your aunt and particularly your uncle, with whom I had little opportunity to converse, and to meet your father. May I call?"

"Of course you may, sir," she responded composedly, though not without a blush. "if you do not mind the prospect of things being rather less than entirely peaceful. We will probably not arise early after this celebration, and my uncle and aunt are to leave in the early afternoon."

"If my sister and I were to come at ten-thirty or eleven o'clock, would that be acceptable?"

"Eleven o'clock would probably be preferable. We shall be pleased to receive you, Mr. Darcy."

With that, he bowed deeply and, taking her hand, bestowed upon it a gentle kiss, before turning and walking away. He would have been gratified to see how Elizabeth's eyes followed him.

Chapter 5

Posted on 2010-07-13

Eleven o'clock the next morning found the household far from settled but not in the uproar Elizabeth had feared. Her father of course had arisen early, according to his custom, and her mother, despite having been kept up for several hours after their return from the ball by her nervous excitement over the evening's events and Elizabeth's intimation that Mr. Darcy intended to call on the morrow, had risen to the occasion and was not only dressed and out of her bedchamber, but even tolerably composed by the time of his arrival. Mr. Bennet had heard, upon their return to Longbourn the night before, his wife's enthusiastic description of how Mr. Darcy had singled Elizabeth out and, upon his raising his eyebrow in her direction, Elizabeth's own quiet acknowledgement of it, which impressed him much more than Mrs. Bennet's enthusiasms. The Gardiners had also spoken briefly at breakfast (they had to leave the breakfast room before long in order to supervise the preparations for their return to London) both of what they had seen the night before and of what they knew of Mr. Darcy from their contacts in Derbyshire. They confirmed that Mr. Darcy had seemed quite interested in Elizabeth, that he was nearly as handsome and quite as well-to-do as Mrs. Bennet claimed, and that he was very well thought of in Derbyshire.

When Mr. Darcy and his sister arrived, a few minutes after eleven, they greeted Mrs. Bennet, listening politely to her effusion of welcoming words, and greeted the Gardiners and Elizabeth, and Mr. Bennet was introduced to them.

After several minutes of conventional conversation, Darcy said, "Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, I understand that you are for London today. I am sorry to hear it, for I would willingly have spent more time becoming acquainted with you. It is always a pleasure to meet those who love Derbyshire as we do." He nodded slightly towards his sister. "Speaking of which, I am reminded that I encountered a mutual acquaintance in Lambton just before we set out to come here. I speak of Mrs. Kittredge. When she heard of our destination she asked that I convey her greetings to you in particular, Madam."

"Olivia Kittredge," said Mrs. Gardiner. "What a coincidence. We were speaking of her only a few days ago, were we not, Elizabeth? She is indeed a dear friend. I knew, of course, Mr. Darcy, that Olivia knew you, as do all those in Lambton, but I was not aware that you were so well-acquainted with her and her husband."

"Yes," said Darcy, with a short intake of breath that might bespeak some slight disconcertion, "I do not know them intimately, but, as all their acquaintance must, I respect them highly."

"And how did you come to speak to her of your plans, sir? For you did not know that you were to meet us here?"

"I told Mrs. Kittredge that we were for Hertfordshire, to visit my friend Charles Bingley and his family. She remembered Bingley's connection to the Bennets, and through them to you. She spoke of you with fondness, and supposing that you might well be with the Bennets for Christmas, asked that if I were to see you I greet you on her behalf."

"I see," said Mrs. Gardiner.

"I hope that, if you come again to Derbyshire on your travels, you will honour us with your presence at Pemberley for a few days at the least," Darcy continued. "Something you said at the assembly, Mr. Gardiner, led me to suspect that you are a devotee of the art extolled by Izaac Walton. If you come to Pemberley at a time other than the winter, I can offer you excellent sport, sir. I believe you have seen enough of Pemberley's streams and lakes to have a good notion of what I refer to. I have tackle enough that you need not bring your own."

It was at this point that young Alicia Gardiner came charging into the room, closely followed by her brother Robert. "Mother, where is my new spyglass that Cousin Lizzy gave me? Is it already packed? I want it for the trip. Robert says it is lost, or broken. Please do not tell me he is right!"

"My nerves!" gasped Mrs. Bennet, as her sister said, "Alicia, Robert, we are entertaining guests!"

"Oh," the children said, abashed. They halted in their tracks, and Alicia curtsied while her brother bowed, as their father introduced the two of them to Mrs. Wickham and Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Wickham curtsied in return, and Mr. Darcy bowed quite as politely.

"You are very fortunate, Miss Alicia," he began, "to own such a marvellous instrument as a telescope. I was several years older than either of you before anyone thought to give me one. Does your Cousin Elizabeth often give you such exciting presents."

"Oh, yes, sir," said Alicia. "Cousin Lizzy's presents are the best! She would never give me anything boring."

Robert nodded his head in vigorous agreement.

"And what did your cousin give you, young man?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"She gave me a chess set, sir, and she has been teaching me to play this week. I am determined to be good enough to best Alicia at least once before the end of this month." Alicia very discreetly but definitely stuck her tongue out at him, and they both laughed.

"We shall have to try a match, one day," said Mr. Darcy soberly.

"You should go against Cousin Lizzy, sir," said Robert, "and I would wager she will beat you. She is very good."

"I shall look forward to it; I am confident that we should each occasionally best the other," was the quiet reply, though Elizabeth caught it.

Mr. Darcy returned to attending the conversation that had, meanwhile, resumed among the adults, while Alicia gazed, fascinated, from the handsome gentleman to his beautiful and elegant sister. Robert's attention was more fixed on the gentleman himself.

Mr. Bennet, who had followed what Darcy had been saying, decided to stir the conversation a bit. "So, Mr. Darcy," he said, "What gift would you have chosen for a 10-year-old girl?"

"Sir, I fear I would have lacked the imagination to think of a spy-glass, but I think it an admirable present. I cannot imagine that an intelligent girl such as Miss Alicia could fail to have her world most enjoyably expanded by the experience of looking through it, learning to understand how it works, and perhaps seeing through it such sights as the moon and the planets, or decorative sculptures on some of the church domes and minsters, that one cannot approach in order to see from close up. No, I should probably have settled for jewellery, or a muff, or something similarly boring."

"Boring!" interjected Mrs. Bennet. "How could jewellery, or a luxurious muff such as you, sir, would doubtless buy, be thought boring?"

"I am sure Mr. Darcy did not mean his words as a general judgement, Mamma," said Elizabeth. "He meant, I am sure, that a girl such as Alicia or I would prefer a spyglass to such things."

"You have the right of it, Miss Bennet," Darcy confirmed.

"I note that you failed to include observation of brothers, sisters, parents and neighbours among the edifying uses of a telescope, sir." Elizabeth's voice was grave, but her eyes twinkled.

"I must confess I did occasionally turn my own spyglass to such uses, ma'am," he responded, with an appreciative smile. "It may not have been so very edifying to me, but it was, at times, prodigiously irritating to them, which, in my mind, quite justified my use of the instrument for such purposes. Even the etymology of the name seemed to provide some degree of licence for the activity."

Elizabeth, her father and the Gardiners chuckled.

After a few more minutes the Gardiners asked to be excused to finish their preparations for their journey, and, appropriate farewells said, departed the room, taking their children with them. Mr. Darcy offered, most politely, to remove himself and his sister as well, as he feared they were interfering with the household schedule on a busy day.

"Not at all, Mr. Darcy," said Mr. Bennet. "In fact I would gladly share a glass of wine with you in the library, if you, Lizzy, would entertain Mrs. Wickham for a while. Perhaps I could even tempt you to a game of chess myself."

Darcy looked inquiringly at his sister, and upon her smiling at him, turned to Mr. Bennet and accepted his invitation.

Elizabeth enjoyed a pleasant hour with Mrs. Wickham. She happily talked of her daughter, and of her family home in Pemberley. Most of their time was dedicated to music rather than conversation, however, and after each had played a short piece or two at the pianoforte, they tried some duets, finding their skills well-matched, though Mrs. Wickham lamented once how little she had practised during the last two years, from which Elizabeth, well aware that she herself had improved greatly over the same span of time, concluded that she must have been an extraordinary performer. Mrs. Wickham had induced Elizabeth to sing, to her accompaniment, one of Orfeo's ariosos ("Che Puro Ciel") from Orfeo ed Euridice, as suitable in range for Elizabeth's rich mezzo-soprano, and as they reached the last notes, they were interrupted by applause from the doorway of the music room. They looked up to see Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet expressing their appreciation warmly. The shyness Elizabeth had experienced the evening before returned under Mr. Darcy's steady gaze, and she felt a measure of relief when he said to his sister that they had best return to Netherfield lest they upset the Bennets' day entirely.

"Nonsense," replied Mr. Bennet. "We have enjoyed your visit immensely. Lizzy, you will have to come to the library so that I can show you the very pretty three-piece sacrifice with which he caught me. I have never seen its like before. Indeed, pretty is not a strong enough word, sir --it was a beautiful combination, one that shall keep me happy, I doubt not, for the better part of a week. Any time you wish to return, young man, you are most welcome, and the chess-board will be out for you!"

Elizabeth added her words of appreciation to Mrs. Wickham for the music they had enjoyed together, and repeated the invitation to both.

"Ah, but we are to have the pleasure of your presence with us at Netherfield starting tomorrow, Miss Bennet, is it not so?" Mr. Darcy interposed. "We are looking forward to it very much."

They took their leave, asking that their best wishes be passed on to Mrs. Bennet and to the Gardiners, and returned to Netherfield.

Elizabeth and her father went to send off the Gardiners, who were now ready to leave for the journey back to London.

"Come, Lizzy!" Mr. Bennet said when they were back in the house. He was all eagerness to show her the trap in which Mr. Darcy had caught him, and Elizabeth had to admit, it was a most elegant and surprising sequence of moves.³

"It seems," Mr. Bennet continued, "that at Mr. Darcy's home in Derbyshire, Pemberley, there is a great library with many attractions for a man like myself, including an extensive collection of first-edition books, and one of unusual chess-sets. He implied quite clearly that he would be happy for me to visit some time and see the place. I find I am quite disposed to like the young gentleman. He certainly does not lack for intelligence, and is a pleasant enough fellow, even if he does not smile quite so often as Charles does, or promulgate the convoluted profundities of the Reverend Mr. Collins! And, clearly, he values my worthiest daughter, which shows good judgement … Yes, I quite like your Mr. Darcy!"

"He is not my Mr. Darcy, Papa!" Elizabeth protested.

"Oh, I think he is, or is very soon like to be; judging from the way his eyes light up and his ears perk up when your name is mentioned. I believe he would have defeated me even sooner if I had not distracted him at one critical point, by bringing your name into the conversation. No, Lizzy, after witnessing the behaviour of four sons-in-law in the throes of their infatuations with my daughters, I believe I recognise the symptoms! … Actually, I should correct myself: Mr. Collins hardly counts! And Lydia's courtship, if I can dignify it by that name … so, let us say two-and-a-half sons-in-law. No, seriously, my child, the man is interested in you; all the signs point to it."

"Yes, Papa, I believe it is so. It quite mystifies me. We met only last night, yet he sought me out from the very first moment. I hardly know him well enough to begin to form an opinion of him, and yet he almost seems as if he has known me for quite some time."

"Perhaps since the time of Pythagoras, when you were rats together in Ireland?" Mr. Bennet asked quizzically,⁴ earning for his reward a laugh from his Lizzy.

Notes:

³ The sequence can be appreciated here.

⁴ An allusion to Shakespeare's As You Like It (III.2), which is itself making fun of the doctrine of transmigration of souls.

Chapter 6

On Sunday morning the Bennets arrived in church a little later than usual, barely making it into the family pew before the service began. Mrs. Bennet blamed the delay on Lizzy's readying herself for her removal to Netherfield. It was true that Mrs. Bennet had fluttered and fussed over Elizabeth's preparations in such a way as to hold both her own and her daughter's back, but in fact Elizabeth's trunks had been packed the night before, and the few remaining articles were now gathered and entrusted to the servants for delivery with the trunks, and she herself was dressed and ready a full quarter-hour before Mrs. Bennet herself was able to finish her own toilet so that they could leave the house. Consequently Elizabeth was feeling more irritated (and laughing at herself for feeling so --as if such behaviour on Mrs. Bennet's part were anything unusual) than worshipful. But the service soothed her. The reading from Isaiah and the pastor's words comforted her with Divine promises, and the hymns expressed her own responses. She noted that the hymns sounded better than usual, and realised it was the addition, from the Netherfield pew across the aisle, of Mrs. Wickham's voice to her own on the alto line, and Mr. Darcy's voice intertwining with theirs and the melody in a strong and steady baritone's tenor, surprising in such a deep-voiced man.

After the service, Elizabeth greeted the Netherfield party, Jane and Charles affectionately and Mrs. Wickham and Mr. Darcy cordially and politely. She then turned to greet various neighbours, then to part from her father and her mother.

"Make the most of every opportunity, now, Lizzy!" her mother admonished her in an embarrassingly audible whisper, but Mr. Darcy was looking at her with such an expression of compassionate understanding that it was hard to feel properly upset about it.

It had begun snowing lightly, so they wasted little time getting into the carriage and heading to Netherfield. The conversation in the carriage was cordial, but restricted to conventional topics. Elizabeth found that her natural liveliness was considerably abashed by her being the object of Mr. Darcy's constant gaze. He maintained a steadfast regard that was downright unnerving; indeed, she thought, if she were not already assured that he held her in some esteem she might have wondered if she had thrown out a spot or suffered some other disfigurement upon her face or person, to so constantly draw his attention. When they arrived at Netherfield, Charles handed Jane down from the carriage, and Mr. Darcy handed his sister down but immediately turned to hand Elizabeth down as well, and seemed reluctant to relinquish her hand once she had alighted. He offered an arm each to her and Mrs. Wickham, and so they entered the house.

The ladies went upstairs so that Jane could show Elizabeth to her room. As they walked down the hallway, a pleasant-faced young woman whom Elizabeth did not know emerged from one of the rooms: Mrs. Wickham's room, Elizabeth found out afterwards. She joined Jane's maid Sally, who was waiting in the hall, and the two turned towards their mistresses and their visitor.

"Ellen, come here a moment," said Mrs. Wickham, and the young woman approached and curtseyed. However, in the midst of her curtsey she saw Elizabeth, caught her breath, and began to say in surprised tones, "Why, Mrs. Kenton …", when Mrs. Wickham interrupted her, saying "Ellen, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, whom you have not met before. Miss Bennet, Ellen Ingram came with us from Pemberley, to attend to me, but she is available along with the Bingleys' servants to help with any needs you may have; feel free to call on her."

Elizabeth acknowledged the introduction with a nod and a smile, and Ellen gave her a shy smile in return as she curtseyed to her, but Elizabeth noticed that Ellen’s eyes kept coming back to her: she kept looking her over surreptitiously, seeming to scan from her face down her body, and then back to her face, once shaking her head slightly, and then blushing as she realized Elizabeth had caught her at it. When Mrs. Wickham had finished offering Ellen's services to Elizabeth, Ellen confirmed, "Yes, Miss, it would be a pleasure for me to serve you in any way." Elizabeth again smiled her thanks.

"Miss Bennet's trunks have been brought in, ma'am," Sally said to her mistress, "but we have not yet unpacked them. I was going with Ellen even now to do so, if that is your pleasure." She eyed Elizabeth as well as Jane, since it was she whose tranquillity stood to be disturbed.

"I would appreciate your doing so," said Elizabeth, looking at her sister. "I will just leave my bonnet and gloves in the room, Jane, and freshen up, before coming down to be with you and Mrs. Wickham."

As she walked into the room she noticed that Ellen had just finished placing her hairbrush, combs and toiletries on the dressing table in exactly the arrangement she preferred, and had turned to help Sally, who was hanging gowns in the closet.

"Thank you, Sally and Ellen," she said, with sincere appreciation in her voice.

"You are most welcome, ma'am," they replied. Then, after a short pause during which she looked searchingly at Elizabeth, Ellen continued speaking. "Your pardon, ma'am, but may I ask an impertinent question? Have you ever been in Derbyshire, or at Pemberley, before now?"

"Yes, I was in Derbyshire the summer before last, and we toured the grounds at Pemberley."

"But you didn't meet anyone in the house?"

"No, just the groundskeepers. Why do you ask?"

"You remind me very much of a lady who was recently there, is all. Not just your looks, although you are her very twin, but your voice and your smile, and the way you speak."

"I hope she was someone you liked!"

"Very much indeed, ma'am. She was a most pleasant lady, the nicest I have ever attended. In fact, ma'am --pardon the impertinence-- but please do feel free to take my mistress up on her offer to have me help you. I would be very happy to do so."

"I thank you Ellen, I gladly accept your offer!" Elizabeth's warm smile evoked an answering one from Ellen. "Only be sure you give Mrs. Wickham's needs and wishes all priority. I should hate to cause any trouble for you with your mistress, in return for her, and your, generosity."

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Elizabeth thought to go for a short walk in the garden, and when she mentioned it, Mrs. Wickham expressed an interest in going as well. Mr. Darcy started to offer to accompany them, but his sister said, "No, Fitzwilliam, I would like to have some time with Miss Bennet." Charles and Jane clucked about Lizzy and her walks, but raised no real objections, so the two dressed warmly and set out.

They did not stay outside long, as the snow was thickening, but Elizabeth was able to see that her companion also loved the out-of-doors, though Mrs. Wickham did say that she did not have Elizabeth's taste for even inclement weather; she confessed that usually she would have allowed a day such as this to intimidate her into staying indoors. They talked briefly about what it was like to be at Pemberley and enjoy its woods and trails during the winter. Elizabeth thanked Mrs. Wickham for Ellen's help, and Mrs. Wickham said she hoped the offer of her assistance had not seemed officious. "It was just that Ellen's duties of caring for me do not fill her time, and I knew she would greatly enjoy attending you."

"Why is that, Mrs. Wickham?"

"You are very much like another lady that she attended not long ago, whom she came to greatly appreciate."

"Yes, she said something of the sort to me." Elizabeth was curious, but Mrs. Wickham seemed somewhat disinclined to discuss it further, so she let the matter drop.

They talked of Mrs. Wickham's baby, whom Elizabeth still had not met (she had been sleeping when they came to Netherfield after church). Elizabeth asked about their making their home at Pemberley and about her husband's occupation, and this topic also seemed to evoke a certain reticence, but Mrs. Wickham managed to state, without undue discomfort, that yes, they had recently come to Pemberley after residing in town for some time, and expected to remain there for the next several months, and that her husband had various business ventures that occupied his time, such that he was from home at present, which was why she was travelling with her brother.

The snow was falling fast by this time, and although she was still enjoying it, Elizabeth considered it to be the better part of courtesy not to keep Mrs. Wickham out in it any longer, so they returned to the house.

The rest of the afternoon and the evening were spent with music. Elizabeth and Mrs. Wickham enjoyed alternating at the pianoforte, and playing duets several times. Jane, who despite a sweet voice and an unerring sense of pitch rarely sang, was enticed to perform a vocal duet with her sister, to Mrs. Wickham's accompaniment; the performance drew sincere compliments from both gentlemen. Later Anne Elizabeth was brought to her mamma, and all the ladies, and indeed the gentlemen, took turns, singly or in pairs, playing with her. A precocious child, she was already speaking quite recognizable words, and walking confidently if still a bit precariously.

At one point Elizabeth found herself seated on the floor, holding Anne's hands and encouraging her to walk to her uncle, who was also on his knees, with his hands outstretched towards the baby. "Come on, Anne, walk to your Uncle Darcy," she crooned to the baby's ear, then looked at Mr. Darcy. The look of tenderness on his face was striking, and then she realised that his eyes were not so much on his niece as on herself, or at least on the pair of them, her and the baby together. She blushed deeply, but neither one said any thing, and soon afterwards she rose from her undignified position, leaving the child with her uncle.

Some minutes later, however, Mr. Darcy came to stand beside her in a part of the room where the others were unlikely to hear for a moment. He did not waste the opportunity, but said, "Miss Bennet, I should not have thought it was possible for a woman to look more beautiful than you did the other night at the ball, but the sight of you tonight, seated so gracefully upon the floor and with a baby in your arms, was even more overpoweringly so."

"Mr. Darcy, I thought there were to be no more outrageous compliments!"

"No, no, I am understating the case, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth did not know what to respond, but with a reproachful smile turned to walk towards her sister.

Some time later, after playing another duet with Mrs. Wickham, Elizabeth remained to turn the pages while her friend played the Pathétique sonata. After watching Mrs. Wickham's performance through the turbulence and emotion of the first movement, and with the confident serenity of the second movement strengthening her, Elizabeth raised her eyes to see Mr. Darcy's gaze fixed on her face. Immediately her face, indeed her whole body, was flushed with a rush of blood. What was it with the man! Did he have to make her blush furiously every time she looked at him? Yet she found it difficult to look away. The tenderness she had noted before was still evident, but there were other things --how did he pack so many emotions into one look?-- a concentrated yearning, delight, and, well, a desire that seemed so strong and direct that it distinguished itself from the yearning.

Elizabeth dropped her eyes, then, deliberately, looked up again. What do you mean by this? her eyes queried him. What are all these things your eyes keep telling me? They frighten me. What do you desire of me? Why am I the one you desire it of? And this time his eyes conveyed reassurance, and humour, and restraint over the naked desire that had been there. The flame was not gone, but it was banked, hooded, controlled so as to warm rather than to burn, and Elizabeth felt reassured. She felt --she did not want to name it, yet. Perhaps 'cherished' was the right word to think of, in order to avoid the other one?

But, she wondered, were there, then, different kinds, or different moods, of love? Of course there were: she knew that. But she had never felt it so strongly, in her very bones: The tenderness of the one glance, the yearning and the desire of the next, and the consummate reassurance and courtesy of the last, could all be rightly called by the same name.

The second movement had ended, and throughout the last movement Elizabeth was able to maintain the discipline of not looking at Mr. Darcy again, as Mrs. Wickham's agile fingers threaded the simple intricacies of the music. By the time she finished, and all had applauded (for it truly had been an extraordinarily good performance), Elizabeth was ready to excuse herself from them all and head to her bed.

Ellen had laid out a nightgown and toiletries for her convenience, and Elizabeth was again struck with how they were arranged just as she preferred them. It was not that she would have minded it being different, just that it caught her attention that Ellen had anticipated her preferences. This reminded her of something she had wanted to ask her. "Ellen, you and Mrs. Wickham have both told me that I remind you of a lady upon whom you had waited at Pemberley. What was that lady's name?"

"Mrs. Kenton, ma'am."

"Did you know her first name?"

"Yes, ma'am. It was Elizabeth."

Elizabeth Kenton! she thought. Of all things! Well, then, more to ponder. I can ask Ellen for more information later, if I need to. "Good night, then, Ellen. And, thank you once again for your kindness in looking after my needs."

"You are most welcome, ma'am. I … if you will pardon the personal reference, I came to esteem Mrs. Kenton very highly, and serving you feels like serving her. So it is a double pleasure for me."

Chapter 7

Monday dawned with a clear sky, and from her bedroom window Elizabeth observed with delight the snow-covered courtyard and the trees beyond it, branches laden with new white caps. She pulled on a pair of stout woollen stockings, sturdy boots and a woollen gown, and took a scarf and cap down with her to collect both a Spencer and her heavy cloak from the cloakroom. Her thought was to go to the kitchen to get a pastry or some other light thing which she could take out with her to walk in the woods. In her mind she was turning over the interactions of the previous two days and a half. She was not yet sure what to think of Mr. Darcy, and she expected to pass the time of her excursion considering that situation well, sorting through her feelings and reactions. It was undeniable that he was paying her very particular attentions, and she must admit that, despite the embarrassment, there was an enjoyment in feeling, and in being seen by others to be, so admired and sought after. He was certainly an attractive man. But it was all so peculiar. Whence came his desire to treat her so? Why was he so sure of himself, and so determined to single her out? And how far should she trust her own impulses, which (she was honest enough to realise) would have her respond with delight and even abandon to his overtures?

As she walked past the breakfast room her eye registered the fact that it was lit by many candles as well as the pale sunlight of the early winter morning, and her nose informed her that there was food already awaiting her there. She put her face in at the door, and saw that a footman had just laid a plate of toast, piping hot from the kitchen, on the sideboard next to a selection of crumpets and French pastries, two of her favourite cheeses, butter and honey, and a spread which she did not recognise but which gave off a divine cinnamoney smell. There was also tea, coffee, and chocolate, a hot omelette, and, most improbably, a large platter of fruit. That there should be apples was less of a surprise, but were those not peaches, and apricots, and even grapes? In January?

"Oh my!" she breathed, and she leaned down to smell the fruits, totally unable to account for the miracle of their being there in the Netherfield breakfast room but quite able to enjoy it.

She opened her eyes to the sight of Mr. Darcy, with a grave face but a smiling light in his eyes. "Are you responsible for this breakfast already being laid out?" she asked.

"Yes, yesterday, with your sister's collusion, I asked the servants to have it ready soon after dawn. If this particular omelette should happen not to be to your taste, there is a cook ready with a range of ingredients to make you another. I am certain that the staff would be glad to try to supply any other thing you might fancy."

"Oh, my, no, there is already much more than enough food available here, and all of it perfectly to my taste! I had not expected to take more than a roll or a piece of bread, on my way out the door. As it is, I cannot refrain from partaking of a bit more."

"I would be glad to prepare a plate with whatever it would be your pleasure to choose," he offered.

She asked for half of the omelette, and a small bunch of the grapes, "I shall take a couple of apricots and a peach with me on my walk." she said, "I think I shall also have a slice of toasted bread with … with … What is it that is giving off that delicious smell of spices?"

"That is apple butter, a speciality from our kitchens at Pemberley. I believe that you will find it very much to your taste."

"From what my nose tells me of it, I expect you are right. Yes, I will sample it. Are you responsible for the fruit as well, sir?"

"Yes, we brought these from the hothouses of Pemberley. Even in the dead of winter, our gardeners are often able to supply us with such delights."

"'Delights' is indeed the word for them. I thank you, sir."

"I had hoped they would bring pleasure to you, Miss Bennet. It is a great satisfaction that they have done so."

She looked at him with a degree of consternation as he assisted her into a chair, but the sight and smell of the delicacies on the plate before her prevented her from the full enjoyment of that consternation.

"Will you not join me, Mr. Darcy?"

"With the greatest pleasure," he responded, "but first, may I bring you a cup of chocolate this morning?"

"How did you know?" she asked eagerly. "Though, I hope it is not too sweet."

"I think you shall find it just right," he replied, and his prediction was, in fact, fulfilled most satisfactorily: the bitterness and sweetness were in perfect balance. He filled for himself a plate with a slightly different selection of the breakfast offerings (though it did include the other half of her omelette), and sat at her side.

"I cannot wait!" she cried, as she stripped several grapes from their stem and popped them, one by one, into her mouth, closing her eyes in ecstasy. "They taste as good as they look. They are marvellous!"

"A good grape is almost a microcosm of the most wonderful things in life, or a natural, self-justifying metaphor for them," he commented, his eyes drifting away, and then back to her lips as they closed around yet another grape. "There is a surprisingness to that sweet, liquid tartness, which, even if one has encountered it hundreds of times in the past, must still delight."

"I agree entirely," she said.

When they had finished what was on their plates he offered to bring her more, but she demurred, saying, "My father always taught me that the best way to pay homage to a fine meal or a great wine was to take just enough of it, to savour it, and then to savour the memory of it rather than wash it away with more. Of course, if I were still hungry it would be another thing, but as it is I am perfectly satisfied." She looked at Mr. Darcy with a smile, and was once more taken aback by the tenderness of the expression in his eyes.

"Miss Bennet, I would not wish to impose, and I know how much you love your solitary rambles through the woods and across the fields, but if you would be willing, it would be the greatest pleasure for me to accompany you on your walk. May I?"

"As long as we need not talk the whole time, Mr. Darcy," she replied shyly, "I should be glad of your company."

"Yes, I know how you like silence as well as interaction, especially when out enjoying the countryside." Again she looked slightly askance at him. How did he know that about her, she wondered. How did he know so many things? Or if not, why did he think he knew?

He wrapped in a napkin and slipped into a pocket of his coat two peaches and a few apricots, smiling and almost winking at Elizabeth as he did so, then reached out to help her on with her Spencer and cloak before they walked out of a side door of the house, and then to wrap her scarf around her neck. He offered his arm, but Elizabeth, in the act of tugging her woollen cap down over her curls, declined politely, and he accepted her refusal amicably.

"Let us go then," he suggested, and with a smile they set out together.

Chapter 8

The crispness of the snow was a delight to the eyes, and the cold nipping at ears and nose was, at least at first, a pleasure. The snow made a lovely crunching sound as it compacted under their feet; they were the first to walk over this particular trail since it had fallen. They walked for the better part of a mile in silence. Elizabeth twice dared a quick look at her companion, and found both times that his eyes were steadily on her face. With a slight embarrassed grin she looked back to the trail ahead of them. If he was not going to watch where they were going, perhaps she had better, she thought. Her mind conjured up a picture of the pair of them stumbling over some obstacle which they had not seen for looking in each other's eyes, falling down in the snow together, and laughing at each other.

"A penny for them," he offered. "When you smile like that it always makes me wonder what is amusing you."

"What, is a girl not allowed to laugh at her own thoughts? In this case, I fear I should be embarrassed to have you know."

"As bad as that?" he teased. "I would never tell anyone, you know."

"Quite as bad as that," she laughed at him. "And so you shall have to suffer in the throes of ignorance, with the compensation, of course, of being a full penny the richer." She arched an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled.

After another few hundred yards traversed in companionable silence she put her left hand on his arm and her right index finger against her lips, then gestured with her chin, up and to the right. A squirrel was stealthily moving down the trunk of a large tree, then suddenly bounding along a largish branch, knocking bits of snow down as it did so, out to where the branch was quite small. From there it suddenly pounced down onto a lower, even smaller branch, so small that the squirrel's weight, combined with that of the snow, caused the branch to dip towards the ground, shed its blanket of snow, and rebound towards the sky, giving the squirrel what it apparently considered an enjoyable ride. It similarly rode two more branches, before scampering back up the tree whence it had come. Elizabeth and Darcy released their pent-up breaths and smiled at each other; he in fact laughed out loud for joy.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" he said, and then, seeing her expression change, sobered. "I apologise, Miss Bennet."

"Mr. Darcy!" She removed her arm from where she had let it rest, and then moved herself about a yard away, forming her hands into fists as well as she could with her thick gloves on, and resting them on her hips. "This is disconcerting, sir. We had never met until the evening of two days before yesterday --you had never even met anyone of my family until the day before that--, and yet from the moment you saw me you have treated me as if I were the princess of a fairy tale. You single me out in a dozen ways, pay me outrageous compliments, anticipate my whims, and give every indication of knowing me very well, whereas I hardly know you at all. Other than the disquieting fact that you are from a level of society far above that of my family, I know virtually nothing of your history, your family, even your character. I am left at a disadvantage, and I do not find the experience agreeable. I wonder whether you may not be simply trifling with me. And now you call me by my name when I have given you no leave to do so. Can you give me an explanation for this extraordinary behaviour?"

"Well, madam, when I first heard of you it was as the heroine of a story, a heroine by the name of Elizabeth. You were the Princess Elizabeth of the tale, in fact."

"What? Where … who told you this tale?"

"That, ma'am, is a long story. I very much want to tell it to you; in fact I rather hope to do so later today, but I believe that it would be preferable that we wait until we have returned to Netherfield to begin it. But if you wish to hear it today, you shall, I promise you.

"As to who I am, I am a man of many privileges and corresponding responsibilities. I have tried to live up to an illustrious heritage, to adhere to Christian principles and to live as a good man ought; how well I have succeeded is not really for me to judge. But I can assure you that I have not trifled with any woman throughout the course of my life, and to so treat you, whom I respect very highly, is the furthest thing from my mind. And yet, although my conscience absolves me of grave, wilful faults, I am aware that I fall far short of perfection in many areas, and I am certain that you are one who will see my shortcomings very clearly. I ask that where you see them, you let me know, as in fact you have just done. I know I can trust you to deal gently with me and help me correct rather than be overwhelmed by my deficiencies. Mr. Bingley is, unfortunately, the only one of your close acquaintance who knows me well enough to speak for my character, but you may certainly ask him, or my sister, or even my servants, for their opinions. Your Uncle and especially your Aunt Gardiner have heard of me, given their connections to Derbyshire, and I know you respect their opinions highly. I would like to be as an open book to you, and any questions you ever have I will try to answer honestly and completely. I have had, despite my privileges, great sorrows in my life, and I had lived many years with barely the hope of a felicity which I believe I now see before me. It is making me feel a bit giddy; it is hard to maintain the patience and control that I have striven for in the past."

"Very well," Elizabeth replied, her irritation evaporating even as a part of her tried to hold on to it, for self-preservation, perhaps, as she found she could not really feel angry with her companion. "I suppose I must accept that you are an honourable gentleman, given that you say so yourself and have told me already that you speak only the truth. It is true that others speak well of you. Very well, then, I am willing to call a truce. And I shall look forward to hearing your story later. As for giddiness … that I can well understand, on a morning like this."

She gestured at a sun-bejewelled clearing that had opened before them as they walked. Suddenly she stooped and, gathering a large double handful of snow, compacted it into a lopsided ball, then rolled the ball this way and that, letting it pick up more and more snow and grow in size until it was quite round and rather more than two feet in diameter. Darcy had not been slow to follow suit, and his ball was already somewhat larger than hers. As they rolled the two next to each other, she treated him to a dazzling smile.

"They look adequately-sized to me," he commented. "Shall I put yours atop mine, for a snowman?"

"Yes, let us do so," she replied enthusiastically. "If you would make the head, I will look around for decorations. … here are some large acorns: they should do for buttons, do you not think?"

Darcy had already set the head in place. "Here is a good staff for him," he said, breaking the leaves and terminal twigs off a fallen oak branch. "The snow is packing so well that it will be easy to make an arm to reach out and hold it."

"Pebbles from the stream, I think, for his eyes." Elizabeth suited her actions to her words, and also brought two odd-shaped knotted sticks from the creek bank which would work for a nose and a mouth.

"Quite a handsome fellow, is he not?" Mr. Darcy's voice dripped with pride as he stepped back, examining their handiwork with a critical eye.

"He needs a hat, though," replied Elizabeth. "'Ware enemy fire, Mr. Darcy!"

"What treachery, Miss Bennet!" he exclaimed. He had been just too slow, and the snowball she hurled at him had knocked his beaver off. "I had thought you my ally, and suddenly find myself under your attack!"

As he spoke he dignifiedly, almost stiffly bent to pick the hat up again and ceremoniously placed it on the snowman's head; then with a grin he threw the snowball he had made as he stooped and hidden behind the hat as he stood up, catching Elizabeth totally by surprise and full in the face. "Such dastardly behaviour must be appropriately rewarded!" he continued.

She ducked behind a tree and pelted him from its shelter; he moved nearly out of range while he scooped up handfuls of snow, holding his fire and tempting her to waste her ammunition, then approached her, ducking a couple of shots before he suddenly moved to one side and caught her with another snowball before she could escape. She ran for refuge behind a neighboring tree, but her foot caught on a root that had lain hidden under the snow, and she fell headlong.

"Oh, Miss Bennet, I am sorry!" He was immediately by her side and had in fact picked her up bodily and stood her on her feet. She had banged her kneecap rather forcefully, and was torn between gasps of laughter and grimaces of pain. "Are you well? I hope you are not hurt!"

"Oh no, I am not really hurt," she replied. "It is only my knee; I struck it upon a root or something beneath the snow, but it is at worst but a slight injury. In truth, I can already feel it regaining its normal function. It was my own fault that I fell, and as long as you do not mind, I can bear the indignity quite well. I enjoyed our battle very much, despite, I fear, losing in the end."

"I certainly won," he replied. His arms remained loosely around her, and she turned within them to gaze at his face, which was looking at her with such tenderness that she ducked in embarrassment, finding her hands inexplicably clutching the front of his waistcoat and her head only inches from leaning against his chest.

"Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth," she heard the whispered words, and felt a kiss dropped on her hair.

It was too much. "Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed. "These are unconscionable liberties that you are taking with me! Desist, sir! How can you take advantage of me so, after making me fall?"

"I had just been informed, on the very highest authority, that it was your fault, and not mine, that you had fallen. Very well, then," he finished with a sniff and an injured tone. He let her go, and she, feeling, to her surprise, as bereft as she was indignant, staggered away to a point perhaps two yards from him. She looked at his face from beneath her lashes, expecting an expression of affronted dignity with perhaps a flavouring of contrition, but she was met instead with a look of fond indulgence. The man was a tease. "Do you know, you are adorable when you are angry. If you do not learn to be more disagreeable, I am afraid that sometimes I may provoke quarrels with you for the sheer pleasure of seeing your eyes sparkle and flash as they are doing now."

"Hmph," she replied. "You are incorrigible, sir. I think we should discontinue this most inappropriate conversation and return to the house. I am quite put out!"

He laughed. "If I may make a very impertinent suggestion -- no, I should not say it." He began leading her back to the trail by which they had come.

"What should you not say, sir?" she asked, her curiosity aroused.

"To tell you would be to continue a most inappropriate conversation, ma'am."

"Nevertheless, I should like to know."

"What, is a man not allowed to laugh at his own thoughts in privacy, even if he were to be offered a penny for them?"

"Nay," she replied with a smile in her voice, "You were not laughing in private, you were contemplating, aloud, the formulation of an impertinent suggestion."

"Very well," he replied. "If you will have it … I was wondering whether your indignation was only with me for my unconscionable behaviour or in some measure with yourself for responding to it. I cannot believe that the contact that was so pleasurable to me was truly repulsive to you, or you would have ended it sooner."

"Well! Of all the impertinent …" She was left speechless. How galling of the man to suggest that she had liked his embrace, and that it was as improper in her to have done so as it was in him to have initiated and prolonged it.

"I told you it was impertinent, but you would hear it," he said sadly, provoking, to his delight, another choke of laughter from his companion.

"Very well, you win, Mr. Darcy," she conceded. "And, in fact, you are right; my indignation was, and is, provoked at least as much by my behaviour, as by yours."

"Do not be uneasy, Miss Bennet," he stopped and spoke earnestly to her. "You have done nothing for which you should reproach yourself. I did take advantage of the situation, and I apologise for doing so, --though I cannot really say I am sorry! If there is any blame for what happened, and I am afraid there is some measure of it, it is all mine. I apologise for calling you Elizabeth and for treating you in other ways with unwarranted familiarity. In my defence I can only say that I have thought of you so for some time now."

"Since before we met, in fact."

"Yes, since before we met. In fact I came into Hertfordshire for no other purpose than to meet you. But as I said, that story is for later. For now, Elizabeth, I want you to know where I stand. I am deeply in love with you, my dear. I know that I cannot expect you to even begin to feel anything similar towards me yet, and I am certainly not asking you to make any final decisions until you are ready to do so. But if you were willing I would gladly visit your father today to ask his permission to formally court you. My ultimate hope is to marry you, if there is any way I can persuade you to accept me."

Elizabeth's knees almost gave way, and she tottered over to a tree to lean on. "Mr. Darcy, I am overwhelmed! How can you possibly … How can you be so rash! What if I were a scheming, mercenary, ill-tempered or boorish woman? I could make your life miserable, sir."

"Ah, but then I know you so much better than you know me," he replied. "I would stake my life on your loyalty, your wisdom and your kindness. I am safe in your hands, my love."

"No more, Mr. Darcy, no more. It is too much, too wonder…, too overpowering, to be borne. Never in my life have I been so thoroughly put to the blush as I have been in the last few days -- or even more particularly in the last few minutes. Let us go home, sir. Perhaps it is best that we do so in silence."

He offered his arm, and she reached out to take it, then hesitated and withdrew her hand, glancing shyly and apologetically up at him. She was in fact feeling overpowered, but not in the least cast down. To the contrary, a surge of energy was making its way through her body and limbs, making her more ready to run and shout than to cringe or weep.

"You have forgotten something, sir," she noted. "Allow me to amend the situation," and she took off at a run back to the clearing where they had left the snowman. She retrieved his beaver from the snowman's head and turning, handed it to him; he had, of course, come running up behind her.

"And now I am expected to put this soggy, miserable piece of felt on my head?" he inquired, shuddering at the prospect. Then he laughed and clapped it on his head. "So be it. I thank you, madam, for rescuing my headgear."

They made their way from the clearing quite in charity with each other, and if Elizabeth did not seem to notice that her hand was tucked securely in the crook of Mr. Darcy's arm, well, appearances can be deceiving.

Chapter 9

Posted on 2010-07-16

"Bingley, Mrs. Bingley, Georgiana," Darcy greeted the inhabitants of the breakfast room, and Elizabeth smiled at them as well. As far as the others knew, they had just returned from their walk, though in fact they had briefly retired to their rooms to repair the damage from the snowball fight before meeting again at the top of the stairs to come, together, to encounter their sisters and brother.

"Did you have a pleasant walk, Darcy? Did he behave himself, Miss Bennet?" asked Bingley.

"He certainly did behave himself," she responded. "Whether he behaved himself well it might perhaps be best not to inquire." Georgiana looked at her in alarm, but easily perceived that she was not angry with her brother, nor was he in the least offended by her words, but rather entertained by them.

"Did you break your fast already? The Darcys have brought these fruits from Pemberley, Lizzy, which makes this a truly memorable meal. I know how much you in particular love fruit in the morning."

"We broke our fast before our walk," Elizabeth responded, "and in fact we took some peaches and apricots with us, and ate them on the way home, not very many minutes ago. However, I think I will join you for a few more grapes. Have you tried the apple butter, Jane? It is from Pemberley as well, and is one of the most delicious things of its kind that I have ever tasted."

She sat between Jane and Mrs. Wickham, and Mr. Darcy sat on the other side of Mr. Bingley, and they talked amicably together about the meal, and about the beauty of the weather.

As they were nearly through eating, Mr. Darcy turned to contemplate Elizabeth, then turned to the others. "Ladies, and Bingley, I have promised Miss Bennet to tell her a story. Miss Bennet, Georgiana already knows much of this story, and as I consider the matter, I believe that your sister and Bingley should hear it as well. Is it acceptable to you if I tell it once, to all of those here present?"

"If you judge that most appropriate, Mr. Darcy. I will abide by your choice."

"Then, may we adjourn to a private chamber, perhaps in the music room? This story is not one that any servants need hear, though I expect to summon Ellen Ingram for a part of it."

"We can meet there in fifteen minutes," suggested Charles. "Is that convenient for all? I gather that this may take an hour or more?"

"Considerably more, I should think," was Mr. Darcy's reply.

As the others left the room he asked Elizabeth, in a soft voice, if she would grant him a moment of her time, and she remained behind. Although there were servants coming and going, returning the food and the service items to the kitchen and scullery and preparing the dining room for the next meal, they did not stand near the table, and Darcy's voice was low. "Miss Bennet," he said, "I perceive a difficulty. I can perhaps tell this story without letting slip the matter that I discussed with you on our walk this morning," whereat she blushed deeply, from her neckline to the crown of her head, "but I do not think it will be easy, especially towards the end of the tale. Perhaps it was precipitous in me to invite the others to hear the tale at the same time as you do. I myself would be glad for them to know my intentions, but at a word from you I will pledge myself not to refer to it directly."

"I think I would rather not," she said, after considering the matter. "At least until I have had a chance to speak alone with Jane."

"Would you like to do that now?" he asked. "I could easily ask Bingley and Georgiana to postpone our gathering for a half hour or an hour if that would be best."

"A half hour total would be fine," she replied. "I shall only tell her the basic facts; it is perhaps best that we not have time to refine upon them too much yet."

A few minutes later she caught up with Jane in her dressing chamber and asked if she could see her alone to share some important information. "Our appointment in the music room has been postponed a bit more, so we have a half hour and are not under the pressure of time to go downstairs immediately."

Jane looked at her inquiringly, noting that she was trembling with suppressed excitement, and when Sally had left the room and closed the door, Elizabeth launched herself into her sister's arms.

"Oh, Jane!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Darcy … it is so overwhelming. … Jane, before I tell you anything, please tell me what you know of Mr. Darcy, especially as regards his history and character."

"I have already been making inquiries about that. His interest in you has been so obvious, Lizzy, since before the ball, as I told you. Charles has of course been my best source of information. He has known Mr. Darcy for years, and considers him the very best of men. He has told me that he knows no one whom he trusts more, both because he always seems to know what is best to do and how best to do it, and because of his unswerving loyalty and seemingly infinite kindness towards his friends. Mr. Darcy is very clever, having outstripped almost all the other young men in Cambridge at the time of their attending there, yet he is, at heart, sweet as a nut, Charles tells me. He does seem prone to overburden himself with responsibilities, but the estate he is charged with running is vast, and many people depend upon him for their livelihood. Charles thinks Mamma's figure of £10,000 underestimates his annual income considerably. Mr. Darcy has borne these responsibilities fully since he was quite a young man, with neither of his parents to help him.

"His sister, Mrs. Wickham, has had some sort of tragedy in her life, and, Charles says, Mr. Darcy had difficulty dealing with it, but as you can see, things seem to be well between them at this point. She is quite young, you know --just a few months above Lydia in age.

"I do not doubt that you have already done so as well, but I asked Aunt Gardiner what she knew of his reputation in Derbyshire, and it is of the very highest calibre." Elizabeth nodded in acquiescence, as this matched what she had heard. "She said that her acquaintance in Lambton think him every bit as good as his father was, which means he is the finest young man that there is. And it is clearly, our Aunt says, not just because of his position in society but because of his character. As for his position in society … his mother, you know, was the daughter of an earl, and although the Darcys are not titled, they are as respected as any family of the nobility in Derbyshire.

"I could not do so very directly, but I provided the opportunity for Ellen Ingram, and for Grace, the nursemaid, to tell me of the Pemberley family, and they both gave Mr. Darcy what Aunt Gardiner would call a flaming character. They are in agreement that he is kind and fair, and the best master anyone ever heard of. Ellen says she knows stories of him since his childhood, many told by his housekeeper at Pemberley, who has been almost as a mother to both him and Mrs. Wickham, and he has always been thus.

"… I don't know what else to say. He certainly is a handsome man, though I suppose that should not be included as part of his character. However, as my little sister once pointed out to me, with reference to the man who is now my husband, a young man should always be well-looking if he possibly can! His manners have been very agreeable, during the short time I have known him. He is kind and very loving to his sister and his niece. I like him very well indeed, for whatever my judgement upon so slight an acquaintance is worth.

"So tell me, little sister, what has you so in alt? I have my suspicions, but perhaps they are wide of the mark."

"Oh, Jane! Thank you! What you have told me reassures me, but indeed I am by turns confused, and exhilarated and frightened, to the point that being described as 'in alt' does not seem at all unreasonable. My nerves … such flutterings of my heart, and spasms in my sides!" The sisters laughed, and then Elizabeth sobered. "We all have noted Mr. Darcy's particular and constant attentions to me, and especially the ways in which it seems as if he knows me already. I could almost have surmised that he came down from Derbyshire just to meet me and be with me. And in fact, he has told me that that is exactly what he did do!" She stood up and began to pace, holding her arms crossed tightly in front of her.

Jane raised her eyebrows, then said, "Well, that, while puzzling in itself, fits in with the rest of his behaviour. You heard, did you not, that he had told Charles only a few days before Christmas not to expect him soon? We were never so surprised as when we received his express on Boxing Day saying that he would be with us before the week was out. And, once he was here, he immediately began to steer many conversations to my lovely, though occasionally stubborn and impertinent, younger sister." She smiled at Elizabeth, then pondered the matter briefly. "Did he explain what he knew of you in Derbyshire, or how he knew it?"

"I believe that the story he has promised to tell us deals with that question. Jane … Jane … he has asked for my permission to go to Papa and request a formal courtship." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and her face drew near her sister's. "He says he wants nothing more --and nothing less for that matter!-- than to marry me. I am in shock, Jane. I do not know what to think!"

"Oh my! That is indeed astounding! Tremendously exciting, too!" Jane fairly bounced on the bench where she was seated, then subsided into pensiveness for a few moments, and finally asked, "Do you like him, Lizzy?"

"I do, I confess that I like him very much. How could one not like a man who admires and respects one as Mr. Darcy seems to admire and respect me? Well, if it were another Mr. Collins." The sisters giggled at the thought.

"Bless Mary, how she puts up with the man, I'll never know." These were strong words from the normally soft-spoken Jane, but being married had increased her confidence in her opinions and, it would seem, injected a bit of maturity or realism into her optimism. Yet being Jane, she added, "She seems to thrive on it, however, and Mr. Collins is even improving a little, I do believe."

"But what I am feeling is not just response to a man's flattery. I feel safe with Mr. Darcy. And he trusts me, Jane, I can feel his trust like a palpable thing. I do not know how to describe it, but it is much more than just being safe; that flow of trust between us forms a foundation, or opens the doors, for other things. I can tease him, and he teases me right back. His thoughts are so nimble, our conversations feel almost like our minds are dancing together. His thoughts differ from mine, yet he respects mine and seeks them out, and even our disagreements seem agreeable to him, and I find them so as well. So I enjoy talking with him, and laughing with him --he suits me in many ways. He says that he loves me, and that is overwhelming. And, at this point, I do not doubt that it is so. But it is almost as overwhelming how much --and I could tell this even before he told me of his love-- how much he likes me. And he does seem to know me well. It would seem that there is reason to hope that he is not infatuated with a false image of me. Yet I am afraid of how little I know him. How could I even begin to think that I know Mr. Darcy well enough to base anything more or deeper than friendship on it?"

"He is not pressuring you, is he?"

"No, and yes. He is all understanding about my need to know him more, and to take time to know my heart, and yet … he has been so precipitous, Jane. He has not known me three days, and he declares his love for me and lets me know that marriage is his intent. Is that not significant pressure?" Elizabeth paced back and forth between the dressing table and the door as she spoke.

"Yes, it is, Lizzy. But take your time --you do not need to be precipitous."

"My mind keeps telling me that. I will try. There is something in my heart, however, that would need little more than a nudge to throw caution to the winds and respond most unreservedly to his overtures. Well, we shall soon be awaited downstairs. I could not very well have faced it without first sharing this with you, Jane. Despite Charles' rightly taking up most of your time and attention, you are still the only one I can talk to about such things. Thank you for once again being here when I have needed to share what is in my heart."

The eyes of both women filled with tears and they embraced each other tenderly. Then Jane extracted two handkerchiefs from a drawer and they dried their eyes, smoothed each other's hair, and pinched their cheeks before sallying forth to the music room.