Beginning, Section II

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Chapter VI

Posted on Saturday, 26 January 2002

Darcy stopped in his tracks at the sound of her words. She had not consciously intended for them to be heard by anyone but herself, but apparently her subconscious wanted to make a statement, and Darcy did hear her. Oh dear, what must he think of me? How could I have been so forward? she worried. He turned around, his face shining with rapture. She loved him! She had said it in words! No other encouragement was needed, and no more time to be wasted. He strode back to her and dropped to his knees.

"Say it again Elizabeth, please say it again!" he pleaded. She placed a hand on his head and stroked his hair.

"My love," she whispered. He looked up at her, eyes glowing with unshed tears.

"I was planning to wait until I was in Hertfordshire to do this properly, but I can wait no longer. Elizabeth, from almost the earliest moments of our acquaintance I have come to feel for you a passionate admiration and regard which has grown stronger with each passing day that I know you. I wish for nothing more in the world than to have you by my side, my partner and my wife. Will you marry me Elizabeth?" She at first smiled, then began laughing. Laughter was certainly not what he was expecting to hear, so he looked up at her with a bit of worry in his countenance.

"I am sorry Mr. Darcy, perhaps laughter is not the appropriate reaction, but I am so happy that a smile could not contain all my joy. I freely give you my heart, and would be honored to be your wife." Still on his knees, he embraced her waist tightly, then jumped to his feet to plant tiny kisses all over her face. Her arms circled his neck as she laughed again. "Poor Georgiana! She will wonder what has become of you!"

"She will be fine. Once I explain what detained me, I'm sure she will say that she would have gladly waited another fortnight if I had needed it." He indulged himself by holding her a few moments longer, then took his real leave. "I shall be at Longbourn in a day or two to speak with your father. Have a safe journey! I love you!" he called out before climbing into the carriage and driving away. A day or two had never seemed like such a long time.

Needless to say, Georgiana was quite pleased by the developments between her brother and future sister. The whole carriage ride back to their townhouse was not long enough to contain all of her effusive expressions of joy, and she was still chattering excitedly as they walked into the house. Darcy only smiled dreamily, not really hearing what his sister was saying. When they arrived home, he kissed her on the forehead and retired to his study to write a few letters.

Several days later, encampment of the -th regiment in northern England ...

Well, well, I truly underestimated my talents as a matchmaker! mused Colonel Fitzwilliam as he read Darcy's letter. With only a few words, I was able to make Elizabeth go from hating my poor cousin to loving him enough to agree to marry him! He chuckled, but could not help feeling a slight sting of disappointment and jealousy; he too had admired Elizabeth, and though he had willingly helped his cousin to win her, he wondered what might have happened if he had not. Would he now be the one imparting happy news to Darcy? She has no fortune, tis true, but there are other virtues ... it is not as if my living as a soldier is dreadful. We would have lived sparingly, but I am sure we could have been happy ... He threw aside the letter, angry with himself both for thinking this way and for begrudging his cousin his happiness. What I said to him was true: he deserves to be happy at last. Elizabeth is the only woman for him; he deserves her love, and she deserves to marry someone she loves in return. She felt only friendship for me, and I would not wish her to marry for any reason other than the very deepest love. He sighed sadly once more, but as our dear friend was not of a melancholy disposition, he determined to be in spirits again directly. He picked up the letter to finish reading it.

...and though he admitted to being surprised when Elizabeth first told him of our engagement, Mr. Bennet did not see any reason to deny my suit, and shook my hand with a smile. Had she not warned me of his biting wit, I may have been affronted by his blunt manner, but I could see the twinkle in his eye. I suppose I smiled very widely at this, for he laughed at me and said my reaction rivaled Bingley's. I can well imagine it did, for I could not remove the stupid grin from my face for the rest of the evening.

I am so very happy Richard, and I know whom I have to thank for that. I shall never be able to properly express my gratitude for the aide you gave me in Kent. Without your wise counsel and kind friendship, I would still be the proud, disagreeable man Elizabeth hated; she would probably have remained deceived by Wickham, and perhaps (I shudder at the thought) even have received HIS addresses! You did me the greatest service by opening my eyes! I realize what it may have cost YOU as well, for though I was blind to many things, I did not fail to notice that you also were bewitched by her, and she seemed to enjoy your company as well. In truth, I was insanely jealous of you, and feared that eventually her lack of wealth and connections would cease to matter to you, just as they did for me. That you gave up your chance of happiness with Elizabeth for my sake truly speaks much of your character and friendship for me, for I doubt I could have had the strength to do the same in the reverse situation. I have always thought highly of you, cousin, but now I see how truly good you really are. I thank God for you.

Fitzwilliam was very affected by these words. He did not realize that Darcy had noticed his admiration of Elizabeth; he was very moved, however, by his cousin's sentiments, and berated himself even further for his earlier selfish thoughts.

I must cut this letter short, for Bingley and I are to go to Longbourn this morning. We have planned the double wedding for the end of July in Hertfordshire. Bingley extends to you an invitation to stay at Netherfield for as long a time as you wish before the wedding. I do hope you will come; Georgiana is to join us next week, and she longs to see you again.

Again I thank you, and from my heart, wish you equal joy in your turn, for you are the best of men and deserve every blessing life can bestow.

Yours, etc.,

Darcy

Now Fitzwilliam really felt guilty about his jealousy. Darcy's letter was the most generous praise he had ever heard, especially from his cousin. All he had done was help them clear up their misunderstandings, and Darcy was acting as if he had ended war and hunger in Europe! Still, it was gratifying to be so well thought of by so discerning a man as his cousin, and his kind wishes caused a slight lump in his throat. He smiled and sat down to pen his reply.

Back in Hertfordshire...

Darcy gave Fossett the letter he had just written to Colonel Fitzwilliam as he walked out the door with Bingley. Just yesterday he had obtained Mr. Bennet's consent, and today would be the official announcement of his engagement to Elizabeth. The stupid grin still had not left his face, a fact, which Bingley could not help but tease him about.

"Isn't it grand Darcy? We are to be brothers after all! I am starting to feel like it already; why, you are even beginning to look like me, smiling all the time!" Had he not been so content, Darcy might have glared at his friend, but nothing could disturb him, and his smile only grew.

When they arrived, it was obvious that Mrs. Bennet had been informed of the glad tidings, for her demeanor towards Darcy had undergone a complete transformation. She was too much in awe of him to speak much, but when she did it was in the warmest tones with great compliments. Mr. Bennet called all the Bennets to the drawing room, where he formally announced the engagement, adding that he had sent a notice to the newspapers that very morning. They were all very happy for their sister, though Lydia could not quite understand why anyone would care for a man who did not wear a redcoat. When calm resumed, Bingley suggested a walk, and Darcy and Elizabeth readily agreed, eager to escape her mother's growing attentions. Upon arriving at Oakham Mount, Darcy pulled Elizabeth behind some shrubbery, slightly away from the other couple, wishing a few minutes of privacy with his beloved. He leaned down to kiss her, but her bonnet impeded his progress, so he untied it. Unfortunately, the wind chose that moment to blow forcefully, and the bonnet flew out of his hand and down the hill.

"Oh dear!" she cried. "Look what you have done Mr. Darcy!" she accused with a raised eyebrow.

"I am terribly sorry my dear. I suppose this is my punishment for having naughty intentions," he said with a wink. "I will go fetch it for you." He gave her a sweet little peck on the cheek, then left her to fetch the bonnet, which was now quite far at the bottom of the hill. She watched him as he dashed away, laughing and thinking how fortunate she was when she heard a twig snap behind her. Thinking it was Jane and Bingley, she turned around with a smile. She started when she saw whom it actually was.

"Miss Bennet! I thought I heard your delightful laughter! How do you do?" said Mr. Wickham, kissing her hand as he bowed. Her stomach turned at the feel of his lips on her hand, but she fought the urge to yank her hand away and slap him.

"How do you do Mr. Wickham?" she asked with cold civility.

"I am better now," he said charmingly. "I have missed your company greatly. Ugh, please spare me your empty compliments

"Have you? And what of Miss King?" she asked archly. He looked down with embarrassment.

"Em, well, our engagement was never formalized. Her uncle felt that she was too young to marry, and so refused his consent and took her back to Liverpool." Fortunate girl! she thought.

"That must have been a great disappointment for you. I hope the attachment was not too strong." He looked at her with all the emotion he could muster.

"It was indeed a disappointment, but I think you know that my affections belonged to another." She blushed at this obvious reference to herself and turned her head in disgust. He took her reaction as encouragement and spoke again. "I am sure you are aware that you hold my heart entirely in your hands Elizabeth." She looked up, shocked at his familiar appellation as much as by his statement. What does he mean to accomplish with this little declaration? "You know that my situation keeps me from marrying where I wish." Yes, and you inflicted that on yourself with your behavior! "Still," he said, stepping closer and grasping her hand, "there are other ways to be with the one you love." She took back her hand and looked at him incredulously. Was he about to say what she thought he was going to say? "Elizabeth, you know I must marry for money, but it is you whom I wish to be my lover. Agree to be my mistress, and I shall she that you are cared for always!"

She stared at him, mouth agape, eyes burning with fury. The nerve of the man! To think that she would be someone's mistress! She could not even find the words to express her rage.

"I know that what I say is shocking," he said when she did not speak. "But it is the only way I know for us to be together without starving. Your modesty does you credit, I can easily understand your anger. But please think about it; would rather be honorable but miserable with someone you do not love, or go against archaic morals and be with the one you do love?" he asked, reclaiming her hand and stroking it gently. She again pulled away with disgust.

"You are too hasty sir, and make too many assumptions about my feelings which you have no right to make," she began, anger rising. "I do not love you, have no desire to be with you, and want nothing more than to be out of your presence forever!" He looked at her with confusion. Could I have been mistaken about her regard for me?

"But Elizabeth, do you not remember what you said to me before you left for Kent? I said to you that 'had circumstances been different' and you cut me off with 'had old Mr. Darcy never had a son!' What was that, if not a confirmation of mutual affection? I must admit that I am confused at your statements now." Elizabeth blushed, pained by the memory of her former dislike of her fiancé, but raised her chin defiantly.

"I have done and said many things I now regret Mr. Wickham, and at the top of the list is having ever showed you any attentions that could have been construed as particular regard. Your offer is shocking and offensive, and I must beg you to leave me at once!" Realizing now that she was determined to reject him, his choler rose.

"No Elizabeth, I will not leave you. I have made up my mind that I will have you; I gave you the opportunity to be a willing partner of my plans. However, now you leave me no choice but to take what I came for... by force if necessary!" With that, he grabbed her around the waist and roughly kissed her. She struggled, but he was too strong, and forced his tongue between her lips even as she tried to push him away. Suddenly she felt him being roughly pulled away as she herself was knocked to the ground. Looking up, she saw that her savior was none other than Mr. Darcy. He had returned with the bonnet in time to hear the last few moments of their exchange, but to his horror could not reach her before the villain had forced himself upon her. Now the two men stood glaring at each other.

"I should have done this years ago Wickham." The other man smirked.

"Done what Darcy?"

"This!" Darcy yelled as his fist flew directly into Wickham's nose. Elizabeth's eyes widened, but she was not the slightest bit sorry for Wickham, who now bent over cursing Darcy with very foul language.

"What are you doing?" he spat vehemently.

"This!" Darcy said again, landing another punch that sent Wickham sprawling to the ground. More curses issued from his vile mouth, which was now bleeding along with his nose. Elizabeth rose to her feet and stood next to her fiancé, who put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright my dear?" he asked tenderly. She nodded, but the tears were dangerously close. Turning again to Wickham, still on the ground, he said, "As for you, you bloody demon! How dare you! Do not smirk at me like that. If you think I am going to pay you off again, you are sadly mistaken. You will not get away this time Wickham. This time you will pay; Colonel Forrester will know of this, and you will be sent away to rot in a prison until the end of your days!"

"I think not old man!" yelled Wickham, jumping to his feet. In his hand he held a pistol. Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp of fear. Darcy pushed her behind his back and glared at Wickham.

"Don't do anything stupid Wickham. It isn't worth your while to hurt me."

"Oh, I think it is Darcy. I cannot abide the sight of you, and a well-aimed shot would free me from that nuisance." Elizabeth began sobbing. "And of course, when you fall down, Miss Elizabeth will be all alone ..." he said menacingly, a nasty sneer making his handsome face suddenly terribly ugly. Darcy glared venomously at his enemy, his eyes in tiny slits. Wickham cocked the pistol and pointed it right at Darcy's chest. Elizabeth felt Darcy's body tense with fear, and desperately hoped that if he were shot, the bullet would have the kindness to hit her as well. She was weeping uncontrollably now; when she heard a sharp cry and the sound of the pistol firing, she fainted.

Chapter VII

Posted on Tuesday, 5 February 2002

Darcy cried out in pain as the bullet hit his leg. Wickham was unconscious on the ground, and behind him stood Bingley with a large rock in his hands. He at first stood staring at the man on the ground, then threw the rock aside and ran to his friend.

"Darcy, are you alright man?" he asked with concern.

"Yes, yes, it's just a flesh wound. Is Elizabeth all right? I felt her fall just before I was shot." Bingley looked at Elizabeth, lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. Jane, who had been standing with her mouth open and tears flowing down her face, now ran to her sister's side.

"Lizzy? Lizzy, can you hear me? Oh please wake up Lizzy!" she cried desperately. Elizabeth responded with a slight murmur before opening her eyes again.

"Oh Jane!" she sobbed, hugging her sister tightly. "Jane, has he been shot? I heard the pistol go off! Is he dead? Please tell me he is not dead Jane, or I shall die myself!" Darcy dragged himself over to her and touched her. At his touch she released Jane and wrapped his arms around his neck and began kissing his face with desperate urgency.

"Oh Fitzwilliam! My darling, my love! I thought you were dead ... I thought..." Her sobs would not her finish the sentence, but words were not necessary. He held her tightly, thanking God for Bingley's timely arrival. When at last her sobs subsided, she looked back up at him. "What happened Fitzwilliam? I heard the pistol go off." Bingley replied.

"Jane and I heard the scuffle, and when I came to investigate, there was Wickham aiming the pistol. I picked up the largest rock I could find and knocked it onto his head. Unfortunately his finger was on the trigger, so Darcy was still shot, but fortunately it was only in the leg!" Elizabeth looked down at the injury and began bawling again.

"Oh my love!" she cried out. "That hateful man!" She stood up, eyes full of fury, and began kicking and beating Wickham's unconscious form with her fists. Bingley restrained her as her curses grew louder, and Jane tried to soothe her anger, but it was only when Darcy called her over that she stopped abusing Wickham's yet motionless form.

"Calm down Elizabeth. I have something more helpful for you to do. Run back to Longbourn for help; get rope to tie him with, the carriage to take me back, and a few servants to help get Wickham." As soon as she was gone, he ventured to look at his wound. The bullet had hit the side of his thigh, but had not lodged in his flesh. He was, however now bleeding profusely, and was beginning to feel light-headed. He gave Jane his jacket, asking her to rip off the sleeve and make a tourniquet to tie around his leg. Bingley had by this time picked up the pistol and was aiming it at Wickham should he awaken. He was (unfortunately) still breathing, but would require medical attention soon.

After several minutes, Elizabeth returned with her father, 3 servants, and the carriage. The other men helped Darcy in and tied Wickham up. During this process, the villain awoke and tried to struggle, but a firm punch in the face courtesy of Mr. Bennet put him in his place. "Try to hurt my Lizzy, eh?" he was heard to mumble. The carriage went first to Longbourn to leave Darcy in the care of Jane and Elizabeth, then left again with Wickham, escorted by Bingley and Mr. Bennet.

The gentlemen reported to Colonel Forrester immediately, informing him of the events of the past hour. The colonel was enraged, but not entirely surprised that Wickham's character was severely lacking, as he had rumors of gaming debts and seductions. By this time the villain was again conscious, but made no effort to defend himself; he knew he was defeated. Unable to deny the charges lay at his door, Wickham was sentenced to undergo a court-martial in London as soon as possible, and a prison wagon was summoned to carry him thither at once. Satisfied, Bingley and Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn.

Meanwhile, Mr. Jones had been to see Darcy and determined that he would mend completely with the proper rest and care (provided, of course, by Elizabeth), and was not by any means to be moved for at least a week. Darcy and Elizabeth both groaned internally at the thought of him spending a week under the same roof with Mrs. Bennet, but Elizabeth was quickly able to convince her mother that it would be quite improper and offensive for his future mother-in-law to see him in his bedclothes. The other gentlemen arrived as the physician was leaving, and were pleased to receive a favorable report from him, although Mr. Bennet felt great pity for the poor man; not only had he been shot, but he would have to spend all those days with the silliest women in England. He resolved to provide him with as much port as would be necessary for a week with Mrs. Bennet.

Surprisingly, the week passed pleasantly enough. Elizabeth kept a constant vigil (with the door open and at least one chaperone, usually Jane and Bingley, of course), reading, sewing, or just chatting with him as he healed. Sometimes she would go out for a walk and bring him flowers. He teased that he should be the one caring for her this way, but she responded that it was the least she could do after he had so gallantly rescued her bonnet from the wind's evil clutches. Both were still too uncomfortable to speak of what had occurred in direct terms, but he knew that Elizabeth was extremely grateful for coming to her rescue, and for the simple fact that he was still alive to tell the tale. On the Saturday one week after the incident, Darcy prepared to leave for Netherfield, his wound well on its way to healing, and his leg even able to support some of his weight, though he needed a crutch. When he joined the family for breakfast, a loud cheer erupted from the table. He sheepishly took the seat next to Elizabeth as Mr. Bennet offered a toast "to our very own hero." As they ate, an express came addressed to Darcy from Colonel Forrester.

My dear sir,

Though we have not met since the Wickham incident, I felt that as his victim you should be first to know what has happened. The prison wagon took him to London last week as planned, and he was kept in a barracks awaiting his court-martial. It appears that he used his charms to convince several of the prisoners to organize a riot Thursday night. Fortunately it was quelled with little effort and loss of life; however, not all of the rioters were spared during the brief skirmish, and Wickham himself was one of the unlucky ones, and was shot in the gut.

George Wickham was pronounced dead at 5:27 this morning. I know that this news will not heal your wounds any more quickly, nor will it take back the mortification and pain suffered by Miss Bennet, but I hope it does offer you some consolation that your troubles with him are over. I wish you a speedy recovery, sir, and may God bless you.

Your faithful servant,
Colonel James Forrester

Darcy sat in shock for several minutes before realizing that Elizabeth was speaking to him. He turned to her, vaguely understanding that she wished to know what ailed him. He just handed her the letter, still unable to utter any words. It had been a long while since he had liked George Wickham, and the b*****d had even tried to kill him, but for some reason all he could think of now were happy memories of their childhood at Pemberley. He quickly excused himself before tears could be seen forming in his eyes, but forgot about his leg and fell to the ground before he could run off. Mr. Bennet jumped up to help him, and took him to the library. As soon as the door closed, the tears began to flow uncontrollably. Mr. Bennet offered him a glass of brandy, then just gazed at his future son-in-law as he released all the emotions that had been so bottled up for not only the past week, but the past several years. A soft knock interrupted the silence, and both men knew at once that it was Elizabeth. Darcy turned his head to face the door and eagerly called for her to come in. Her face was also streaked with tears, and she ran to embrace and comfort him.

"I'm so sorry my dear. I know how this must affect you," she whispered, while he merely sobbed into her dress. Mr. Bennet put a soft hand on Elizabeth's shoulder to indicate that he would leave them alone for a bit, and returned to the dining room. By this time the contents of the letter had been shared with the rest of the family, and Mrs. Bennet was already upstairs with a fit of nerves. As Mr. Bennet and Jane tried to calm the other girls down, Mr. Bingley was announced. He walked in, cheerful as ever, and encountered a room full of morose faces.

"My, what a dreadful-looking lot! You all look as if someone has died!" he joked, but was immediately sobered by the tears in Jane's eyes. "Someone has not died, have they? Is Darcy alright?" he asked with sudden concern.

"He will be my boy. He was very disturbed by some news which he has this morning received from London," replied Mr. Bennet.

"Good God, what is the matter? It is not Georgiana is it? Is someone ill? What has happened?"

"Mr. Wickham is dead," Jane said softly, before bursting into tears.

"What? Dead?" Bingley paled. "It was not because of my actions was it? I did not think I hit him so hard ... I am not a murderer!"

"No sir, it had nothing to do with you. Here is the letter from Colonel Forrester, read it yourself." Bingley read the missive, and although he was relieved to be innocent of Wickham's death, was still distressed.

"This is very difficult news indeed. Darcy must have been very affected."

"He was. Lizzy is consoling him in the library. I am sure they will return when he is recovered. In the meantime, may I offer you some tea?"

Elizabeth seated herself on Darcy's lap and kissed his forehead over and over as he cried, knowing that when he had words he would speak. After several excruciating minutes, he did. "Elizabeth ... I do not understand myself. I had fully expected to feel joy and relief at the news of Wickham's death. Instead I am filled with an inexplicable sorrow. He has done me so much wrong over the years, purposely inflicted pain, sullied my character, nearly separated me from those I love most, and yet I weep for him as if he were my brother."

"In a way he was, my love," she replied. He smiled ruefully.

"I suppose...but still, after hating him for so long, why is it that I can only picture running to Lambton together as boys, fishing, playing pirates..." A small grin played on his lips at the memories. "I don't understand it!" he cried with frustration.

"The answer is very simple my dear. The truth is, you are too good at heart to truly hate anyone, no matter the wrong they have done you. Perhaps if your experience with Wickham had been always bad, it would be easier, but because of your affection for him early in life, you could never quite bring yourself to casting him off completely. He always had a small place in your heart. I believe that, against your will, you are forgiving him." He held her tightly.

"I should not forgive him. He does not deserve it."

"Perhaps not. But you are doing it all the same." He sighed.

"I believe you are right Elizabeth, though I wish you were not. I dearly wish that I could only think badly of him and laugh at the prospect of his soul burning in hell forever. Instead I pity him, and wish I could have helped him before. Perhaps if I had given him the living when he had asked for it..."

"No Fitzwilliam, that will not do. You always acted justly and correctly; do not doubt yourself now. He may be dead, but that does not remove all his guilt. There was nothing more you could have done for him," then, more softly, "I pity him as well, for he never realized all that you would have done for him if he had been as good a friend to you as you were to him. But he is in God's hands now, and there is nothing more you can do. He will get what he deserves, and whatever that entails is out of your control." He gazed at her intensely, admiration and respect glowing in his eyes.

"Elizabeth, you are the most amazing person I have ever met. God, how I adore you! I do not know how I ever won you, but I am so thankful that I did!"

"Well sir, you know it is not just the wicked who get what they deserve." She smiled so warmly that he could not longer resist touching her lips with his own. She pulled his face closer with her hands, intensifying the kiss. It was a relief to kiss him again at last; the last kiss she had received was Wickham's. The difference between her body's reaction to that kiss and this one was incredible. Every fiber of her being wanted to participate in this moment. Indeed, the heightening of her desire frightened her a bit, but she could not tear herself away from his warm lips. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her as close as she could get. She felt herself being carried completely away by passion, and knew she could deny him nothing at that moment, when he suddenly pulled away. "Why did you stop?" she breathed impulsively.

"Believe me Elizabeth," he replied, his breathing just as ragged, "it took all my power to do so; I have no desire to stop kissing you ever. But if I did not stop there, I would not have stopped at all." The passion burning in his eyes told her how serious he was.

"I do not think I could have stopped either," she admitted. "I did not know it was possible to feel so much desire."

"Oh yes, like that and much more," he replied, indulging himself by burying his face in her neck and touching her curls. "I have felt it for you since last fall." She sighed as he planted soft kisses along the side of her neck, moving forward to her throat, and down, past the little indentation at its base. He suddenly stopped again, a look of acute embarrassment covering his face as he practically pushed Elizabeth off his lap and quickly crossed his legs. She looked at him curiously, a bit put out.

"What was that about?" she asked indignantly.

"Um... let us just say that you cause certain ... reactions in me that I cannot control, my dear, and I do not want you, um, exposed to any of that until later ... for example, our wedding night?" Her eyes widened and she blushed from top to bottom as she vaguely understood his meaning.

"Oh my," she whispered, utterly embarrassed. He laughed.

"It's alright darling; I've grown quite used to this affliction since meeting you," he teased mischievously, causing her to blush more deeply. "There is quite a simple cure." He closed his eyes, and she swore she heard him mutter, "Caroline Bingley in an orange gown... Caroline Bingley in a wet orange gown ... ugh!" He shuddered, then reopened his eyes. "There; I am cured." He winked and reached for her hand. "Help me up my dear, we should return to the dining room before your father comes here to salvage your honor." She smiled brightly at him, relieved that his sorrow had been soothed. They returned to the family, who were all sitting quietly drinking their tea. Upon the sight of his friend, Bingley jumped out of his seat and ran to him.

"Darcy old man! I just heard the news. How are you?" Darcy shook his friend's hand and smiled down at Elizabeth.

"I think I shall be just fine Bingley." The tension in the room lightened tremendously, and soon everyone was chatting amiably, if in a little more subdued manner than before. Just as the atmosphere had calmed, everything was commotion again when a carriage was heard in the drive. They had barely had time to wonder at whom it could be when Colonel Fitzwilliam (hurrah!) strode into the room.

"Fitzwilliam!" Darcy cried happily. "Mr. Bennet, may I introduce my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Richard, this is Mr. Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Kitty Bennet, and Miss Lydia Bennet. You know Bingley and Elizabeth." Fitzwilliam bowed.

"It is a pleasure to meet all of you. I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, but when I heard about my cousin's condition, I could not but come immediately. Darcy, I am very upset that I had to find out from outside sources, and poor Georgiana is ignorant of it still."

"I did not wish to cause concern Fitzwilliam. I knew that Georgiana would be distressed, as would you. I was going to write when I returned to Netherfield today." Fitzwilliam gave him a withering stare. "Truly I was! And to Georgiana too!" His cousin smiled and patted Darcy's shoulder.

"Alright old boy, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt since you are injured, but don't get used to it!" He turned to Elizabeth and kissed her hand. "Miss Bennet, it is a true pleasure to see you again! I'm glad to see that you have spent so much time with my ogre of a cousin without doing any damage to your fair self."

"I am not an ogre!" Darcy cried with indignation, only eliciting laughter from the entire table. "I'm not," he muttered under his breath, pouting. Elizabeth touched his arm.

"There, there, my love. You are not an ogre. I was thinking that our story is more like Beauty and the Beast. I am the Beauty of course," she teased, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"That I cannot argue with my dear," he replied, tenderly kissing her hand, both completely forgetting about the others in the room.

"Well, I see things haven't changed much since Kent," the colonel remarked as he rolled his eyes. "The poor things are as desperately in love as ever!" He could not suppress his smile at seeing his cousin's joy however, and was even able to ignore the tiny stab of jealousy that remained. Fitzwilliam was given the letter from Colonel Forrester, as he had not yet heard the news, but was the least affected by it.

"Humph, got what he deserved I say. After all he's done, it's fitting. Good riddance." No more was said of the topic that day.

Unbeknownst to Darcy and Elizabeth, another formidable challenge was about to present itself in the form of Lady Catherine DeBourgh. Mrs. Collins had received a letter from her mother imparting the news of the upcoming nuptials of the Bennet girls, and Mr. Collins had seen fit to inform Lady Catherine of the joyous news. Of course, she was NOT so content as he had hoped, and declared in a rage that she would knock that pretentious little upstart back down where she belonged. Not hearing Anne's soft protests that she did not wish to marry Darcy anyway, she immediately packed her bags and set off for Hertfordshire.

A day had passed since the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy's return to Netherfield, and Elizabeth was surprised at how lost she felt without having him nearby. Of course, he was only three miles off, but as they had just parted, it would not do to run over and see him again right away. Instead she tried to content herself with walking around the gardens and thinking of him. She stooped down to pick a few flowers (Sweet Williams of course!) when she heard the sound of carriage wheels on the drive. She practically ran to greet it, certain that it would be her fiancé, but upon seeing the chaise she realized it was certainly not Darcy. The livery was not unknown to her, as she had ridden in a similar equipage several weeks earlier; she groaned as she recognized the insignia of Lady Catherine DeBourgh. What is that witch doing here? she wondered, slowing her pace to appear more dignified in front of the hideous old bat.

The look of disgust on Lady Catherine's face as she stepped out of the coach did not lessen when she saw Elizabeth before her. Her countenance seemed to pinch even tighter, and she looked as if she had just eaten a lemon. Once down the steps of the coach, she walked up to Elizabeth with her nose in the air.

"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, as to my reasons for coming here."

"Indeed, I cannot account for the honor Lady Catherine."

"Do not trifle with me Miss Bennet. I have received news of a most alarming nature, and set out to determine its truth at once."

"Would your ladyship care to tell me what this terrible news is?"

"I was informed that not only was your sister to be most advantageously married, but that YOU, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, were also engaged ... to MY nephew, Mr. Darcy! Though I knew it must be a scandalous falsehood, I set out immediately to make my sentiments known."

"I do not understand Lady Catherine. If you believed it to be false, why did you take the trouble to come here?" Lady Catherine glared at her.

"Why, to save my nephew from your arts and allurements before it was too late! I have brought Anne with me, and a special license. They are to be married in two days, and there is nothing you can do about it!"

Chapter VIII

Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2002

Elizabeth stared at Lady Catherine with her mouth hanging open. This woman actually thought she could separate them? After all they had gone through with Wickham, certainly Lady Catherine's empty threats would prove no trouble.

"Lady Catherine, you may wave about as many worthless pieces of paper as you wish, but the fact is, Mr. Darcy will never marry your daughter. Even if he were not my fiancé, he does not love Miss DeBourgh. You cannot just come here and try to run people's lives for them! Go back to Kent, Lady Catherine, you are wasting your time here!" Elizabeth held her chin up triumphantly. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a motion she did not expect; Anne was jumping out of the carriage and running towards the house! She seemed to be running away from her mother! Elizabeth looked confused briefly, then decided that given the opportunity, she would also run away from Lady Catherine, so she turned back to her ladyship to divert her attention a little further. Fortunately, the old windbag was too busy fuming and fussing to notice Elizabeth's momentary confusion.

"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I am not accustomed to being spoken to in this impertinent manner! I will not allow the upstart pretensions of a country girl to prevent my Anne from becoming mistress of Pemberley! I shall know how to act!" Turning to the carriage driver, she barked out orders to go to Netherfield. She stepped in the box, not yet realizing that she was alone in it. "I take no leave of you Miss Bennet, you deserve no such consideration. Come Anne, we shall..." she froze mid-sentence as she realized that her daughter was no longer in the carriage. "Anne? Where is Anne?" she called out to the footmen frantically as she jumped out again. "You fools, find Anne this moment!" One of the footmen timidly approached.

"Excuse me ma'am, but Miss Anne asked me to give this to you," he whispered fearfully, extending to her a scrap of paper. On it, Anne had scribbled this hasty note:

Mother, I do not wish to marry Darcy, and I do not wish to be smothered by you any longer. Do not try to find me. I

shall not return. Anne

Lady Catherine read the note in shock; Anne had never dared to defy her, so this was a most unexpected development. The note fell from her hands and she stared into midair for several seconds. She choked out several unladylike noises before she could form the word, "Netherfield!" and as soon as she was back in the box, the carriage was on its way again. Elizabeth read the note, and could not help but smile just a bit at Anne's sudden determination to be free from her mother. Remembering that the girl had run towards Longbourn, Elizabeth hurried back to the house to find her. As she neared the door, she heard a voice whisper from the hedges, "Is she gone?" Anne's head popped up from behind a shrub and Elizabeth smiled.

"Yes Miss DeBourgh, she has gone to Netherfield, no doubt to procure Mr. Darcy's assistance in finding you." Anne rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps this was childish of me, but I have no intention of taking my cousin from you Miss Bennet. I sensed an opportunity to flee and seized it. I am sure she will find me soon enough, but at least I can hope for an hour or two of freedom." She sighed heavily. "But have no fear; nothing she can do would make me marry Darcy. Were we standing at the altar, I would say 'I will NOT!' and run away!" Elizabeth laughed.

"Come inside Miss DeBourgh, and have some tea." Arm in arm, the ladies entered the house.

As soon as they entered, Mrs. Bennet sensed that someone important had entered her home. Anne's fine clothes instantly betrayed her station, and though sickly, she had a regal bearing that showed her breeding. Mrs. Bennet was quiet as a mouse as Elizabeth made the introductions. "Papa, Mama, this is Miss Anne DeBourgh. Miss DeBourgh, this is my father and mother, and my sisters Jane, Mary, Kitty and Lydia." Everyone bowed or curtseyed and said their polite how-do-you-dos. "Lady Catherine is visiting Mr. Darcy at Netherfield, and Miss DeBourgh decided to pay us a visit. May we call for tea Mama?"

"Oh yes, of course! Please sit down Miss DeBourgh, I will ring for tea. You do us a great honor by coming to call on us!" Mrs. Bennet said in her most respectful voice before bustling off to see to the cakes and cucumber sandwiches. Jane immediately made an effort to be kind to Miss DeBourgh, who seemed quite reserved, and Anne was quite pleased to find such a sweet girl with a quiet voice, so unlike Lady Catherine's shrill voice and harsh temper. Her contentment, of course, could not last long; they had barely finished their tea when the sound of wheels and horses were heard outside. Anne sighed.

"Miss Elizabeth, could you perhaps hide me a bit longer?" she begged. Before anything could be done, Hill announced the arrival of Mr. Darcy. Thankfully, he was alone. He bowed in greeting, then walked straight to Anne.

"Anne, I thought I might find you here. Your mother is in a fit of hysterics! I am sent here to fetch you," he said gently, perfectly understanding Anne's wish to run away.

"Darcy, can you please make her understand that I do not wish to marry you? She does not listen to a word I say, but perhaps you can persuade her."

"I am sure she will just say that I have bewitched him into saying that, Miss DeBourgh," Elizabeth replied. "She doesn't seem to think it possible that anyone wishes to go against her."

"Is there anything I can do?" Anne asked worriedly. Darcy thought, then smiled suddenly.

"How old are you now Anne?"

"Six and twenty."

"Are you not of age to claim your inheritance?" Anne looked confused.

"I am not sure I understand you Darcy."

"Anne, I am nearly certain your father's will states that you may claim your inheritance, and therefore your independence, at the age of five and twenty. I will have to make some inquiries with my solicitor, but I recall reading something of that nature when I went through the family papers at the time of my father's death. I shall send an express to London directly."

"But what exactly does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that your mother cannot force you to leave here." Anne felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"You mean, by law, I am allowed to stay wherever I wish?" Darcy bowed.

"I will have to verify this ... but until then I will convince Lady Catherine that you cannot leave here. Perhaps you are too ill to move?" Anne nodded excitedly.

"Yes, of course, she is always so concerned with my health ... I am certain that she will not make me move if it will do me harm. Yes, tell her that I have fallen ill from the excursion of running from the carriage and must rest here."

"Very well, I shall inform her. Mr. Bennet, may I use your study for a few minutes?" Mr. Bennet, happy for any excuse to go to the library, took his future son-in-law there to write a letter to the solicitor.

Lady Catherine was quite put out when she learned of Anne's illness, but it was nothing compared to the blow she received upon reading the letter from the solicitor.

Most Honorable Lady Catherine DeBourgh,

It is my duty to notify you that your daughter has made her claims on her inheritance, to which she has had the rights since her twenty-fifth birthday. She has also asked me to inform you that this claim entitles her to complete independence as outlined in the last will and testament of Sir Lewis DeBourgh, and as such she is free to do as she wishes without regard to you as her parent and guardian. Per the terms of your late husband's will, she is no longer required to live at Rosings Park, and is in full control of her fortune of £40,000. Miss DeBourgh will contact you herself with her plans.

Your humble servant,

James Bainbridge, Solicitor

Once the initial shock had passed, Darcy calmly tried to explain to his aunt what had occurred; Lady Catherine, for once, was stunned into silence. She did not speak for two days together, and barely left her room. The wedding she had so schemed to bring about did not, of course, take place. At last, on the third day, she went to her nephew in the library.

"Darcy!" she cried out, voice as shrill and pretentious as ever, "You must tell me what I can do to get Anne to return to Rosings. This is all extremely vexing! You are to go to Longbourn and make her return to her mother!" Darcy sighed.

"I have explained this to you, aunt. You have no recourse. Anne is of age and independent. She will not return with you to Rosings if she does not wish to do so."

"And why would she not wish to do so? Who would not be sad to be deprived of Rosings Park?" Catherine answered in a tone of utter disbelief. "It is the grandest house in the county! The DeBourgh family has owned that land since the time of Henry VIII! How can that selfish, unfeeling girl do this to her family?"

"I am sorry Lady Catherine, but she does not wish to return to Kent. She will remain here until after the wedding, then go to London with Georgiana. She wishes to spend Christmas at Pemberley with us... you are of course invited as well," he replied. Her eyes grew wide and blazed with proud fury.

"Pemberley? I would not give your wife such a compliment! If the shades of Pemberley are to be thus polluted, I shall never set foot on the grounds again!" This was too much for him to bear, and he vented his full rage on her.

"Lady Catherine, you will not speak of my future wife this way! I retract my invitation, and must ask you to leave my presence at once! Either you accept Elizabeth or forget the entire Darcy family forever!" he growled. Lady Catherine, however, was not to be intimidated.

"If that is what you wish, very well! Your union will be a disgrace! Your names will never be mentioned by any of us!"

"These are heavy misfortunes indeed," he spat sarcastically. "However, I am more than willing to bear the censure of all the world to be with the woman I love!"

"She has bewitched you! She wants your fortune and place in society, and yet you fall over her like a lost puppy! I warn you Fitzwilliam Darcy, marry her and you will be ruined!"

"You are wrong Lady Catherine... I will be ruined if I do NOT marry her. I have had enough of this. You will leave here at once; I shall have your things packed and your carriage ready in half an hour. Good day." He bowed crisply and stormed out of the room, leaving a completely speechless Lady Catherine gaping behind. By the next chiming of the hour, she was on the road to Kent.

Anne could not remember a happier time than the short weeks she had been at Longbourn. The Bennet sisters were all very attentive, but not smothering, and she had never felt so alive and free. Now her mother was gone, and after the wedding of her cousin, she would stay in London with Georgiana before they went to Pemberley for Christmas. Her health had improved from the short walks she took with Elizabeth, and she finally had a chance to show what few accomplishments she had managed to learn while feigning illness in her room all those years. As the wedding approached and Georgiana arrived, it was decided that she should stay at Netherfield with her cousins. In her opinion things were going along swimmingly.

All of this changed one morning about a month before the wedding was to take place; Anne, Darcy, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, Elizabeth and Jane were enjoying a quiet afternoon at Netherfield listening to Georgiana's latest musical accomplishment when an express arrived addressed to Anne from Mrs. Collins. She opened the letter with some concern, and her face blanched completely as she read it. Darcy and Fitzwilliam rushed to her aid, offering her a glass of wine for her distress.

"No, thank you, I am quite well," she breathed out shakily. "I am just upset by some dreadful news I have just received from Mrs. Collins," and burst into tears. Darcy took the letter as Fitzwilliam consoled Anne.

"What is it Darce? Is something amiss in Kent?" asked Fitzwilliam. Darcy turned slowly to him.

"Lady Catherine is very ill; the doctors say she will not see another month." A stunned silence fell over the party, broken only by Anne's occasional sobs. Fitzwilliam spoke at last.

"We must go to her at once! Darcy, prepare the carriage and have your valet pack a few things for yourself. Georgiana, have the maids prepare bags for you and Anne. I will ride ahead immediately. Come on, don't just stand there, let us begin!" They all did as they were told, leaving Jane and Elizabeth to comfort Anne, who was still weeping inconsolably.

"This is my fault! I have distressed her so that she became ill, and now she will die because of me! How could I have been so selfish and cruel?" Anne berated herself. Knowing that nothing they said would help, the ladies simply listened and soothed as best they could. A few minutes after Fitzwilliam had galloped off, Darcy came in to say they were ready to leave. Anne thanked her friends through her tears and was helped to the carriage by Georgiana.

"Elizabeth, may I speak with you privately for a moment?" Darcy requested before going outside himself. She nodded and followed him to the library. As soon as the door was closed, he embraced her tightly and covered her face with kisses. "I hate to leave you my dearest, especially now ... I am not sure how long I will be gone. We ... we may have to postpone the wedding."

"Don't think on that now Fitzwilliam. Go tend to your aunt and cousin, return to me when you are able, and write to me everyday that you are gone." He looked down at her with absolute adoration in his eyes.

"This has been quite an eventful summer," he said sadly as he brushed a stray curl off her cheek. She took his hand and kissed it.

"And you have handled it beautifully my love. Your strength amazes me."

"I wouldn't be strong if I did not have you Elizabeth." He held on to her with a sudden urgency. "Promise that you will never leave me! I could not bear it... I could not live without you!"

"The feeling is mutual sir... I will promise you if you promise me." His reply was a passionate kiss.

Several minutes later, the carriage was on its way to Rosings.

Chapter IX

Posted on Monday, 25 February 2002

Anne had calmed considerably during the half-day's carriage ride over fifty miles of good road, and now began to wonder at her mother's sudden fatal illness. Of course, she would never actually voice these opinions, but if she had she would have found a willing listener in at least one of her cousins. Darcy had been contemplating the thought of Lady Catherine's possible duplicity since the arrival of the letter, and the closer they got to Rosings, the more suspicious he grew. Georgiana, of course, still could not think so poorly of anyone, and had not the least thought of anything being otherwise than what was said in the letter. At last they pulled into the lane that separated Rosings Park from Hunsford Parsonage, and within a few minutes were greeted at the door by a somewhat haggard looking Charlotte Collins.

"Mr. Darcy! Miss DeBourgh! I am so glad you are arrived. Lady Catherine has been asking for you since dawn! Come in, please." None of them had expected to be greeted by Mrs. Collins, and suspicion now grew to concern; either Lady Catherine was going to extreme measures to dupe them, or something was truly amiss. The crisp sounds of a military step alerted them to the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam in the next room, and the serious look on his face when he met them in the hall did not bode well.

"Darcy, Anne, Georgiana, at last. Thank you Mrs. Collins, I will take them in." Charlotte nodded wearily and left for the drawing room. They walked slowly and in silence for a few moments until Fitzwilliam spoke again. "Anne, perhaps you and Georgiana should go in first. She has been asking for you constantly." Anne nodded apprehensively and entered her mother's room, leaving her cousins to talk in the hallway.

"Fitzwilliam, what is going on here? Is Aunt Catherine truly on her deathbed?" Fitzwilliam sighed.

"When I arrived an hour ago, I found Mr. Collins sitting in the drawing room, completely speechless. Mrs. Collins was bustling about trying to keep the household from falling apart, and the doctor was with Aunt Catherine. He left not too long ago." He paused. "To be perfectly honest, Darce, I thought it was a ruse to get you away from Miss Bennet and get Anne home; I offered to ride ahead to see what I could discover before you arrived. However, it seems that I have overestimated Lady Catherine's wiles: she really is dying." Feelings of guilt flooded through Darcy as he recalled his own suspicions.

"I confess, I doubted the truth of it as well. What ails her?"

"It seems she has been suffering from a sort of consumption for months, perhaps even years; the doctor says it is impossible to know when it began. He has been treating her since January, but it appears she has come to the end of her rope. The stress of Anne's departure must have taken its toll." Darcy closed his eyes as if the very motion caused him pain, and slowly ran a hand through his hair.

"So it is my fault," he said softly.

"Your fault? Don't be ridiculous man!"

"I am the one who suggested that Anne leave! I am the one who turned Lady Catherine out of Netherfield! Who else would you blame?" he replied angrily. Fitzwilliam laid a calming hand on Darcy's shoulder.

"No one is to blame. She is very ill; Dr. Webb says that he was surprised she had lasted this long, and it was only a matter of time before something gave out. It is her time, you must not blame yourself." Darcy made no reply, but merely paced back and forth in the hall until the door of Lady Catherine's room opened and Georgiana's head poked out.

"Fitzwilliam, my dear brother, she is asking for you." With a deep breath, Darcy stepped into the room. He was totally unprepared for the sight he saw.

Lady Catherine had always been a healthy-looking woman, not what one would call full-figured, but stout nonetheless, and her facial features were always sharp and shrewish; this was what Darcy thought he would see, perhaps just looking a bit piqued. What he found was a woman who had aged ten years in two weeks. She was pale, the skin drawn tightly over her face, accentuating its, for lack of a better word, pointiness. She was thin and haggard, and looked decidedly defeated. Even the coldest heart would have pitied her. As we all know Darcy to have a decidedly warm and compassionate heart, it nearly broke for pity. This pity was to be short-lived.

"Darcy? Is that you?"

"Yes Aunt, I am here." She squinted up at him.

"Well... I am glad you have come to your senses and returned here with Anne. When I am gone she will need to be looked after. I know I can count on you to treat her well. Of course, you must observe an appropriate period of mourning before the wedding; I am excessively attentive to all those things you know. I think six months shall be enough. You have my permission to live at Pemberley, for I know you are excessively fond of it, but I do hope you will not neglect Rosings, and still use it once or twice a year. I had hoped to see my grandchildren before I left this world, but I will die in comfort knowing that my Anne is the mistress of Pemberley." Darcy nearly choked at her words.

"I am sorry Aunt, I do not understand you. Of what are you talking?"

"Why, of you and Anne of course. You are to be married." It was becoming difficult for Darcy to control his temper now, but he used all his power to keep his countenance.

"Aunt, we are not to be married." Lady Catherine's eyes flared with anger.

"WHAT? You will deny the last wish of your dying aunt? Is this to be borne? It shall not be! You and Anne WILL marry! How dare you neglect you duty!" Darcy rose.

"My duty is to act in a way that will constitute my own happiness! Anne does not wish to be my wife, and I do not wish to be her husband. I promise that I will care for her after your passing, but I will not marry her!" he replied forcefully. Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

"You are to leave my presence at once Fitzwilliam Darcy. I disown you as my nephew, and disinherit your line from mine. Your descendents shall never inherit Rosings Park! Now what have you to say?"

"These are heavy misfortunes indeed. But I have Pemberley, and you do not have the power to remove me from there, Lady Catherine."

"GET OUT!! OUT!! I never wish to see you again! Out of my sight and out of my home at once!" Lady Catherine screamed. Darcy bowed, straining to hide his anger.

"Goodbye Aunt Catherine. I wish you peace." With that, he turned on his heels and marched out of the room, leaving a furious Lady Catherine still screaming curses on his name.

Once outside the door, Darcy leaned heavily against the wall, exhausted from the effort of withholding his emotions. He had hoped that Lady Catherine would have softened at least somewhat on her deathbed, but apparently she was determined to remain hard-hearted to the end. Georgiana and Anne timidly approached him; he shook his head and merely gestured at them to return to Lady Catherine's bedside before he walked somberly to the library for a large helping of brandy. Colonel Fitzwilliam awaited him.

"Well Darce? What did Aunt Cat have to say? I don't suppose she gave you her blessing to wed?" he asked facetiously. Darcy gave him a withering glare.

"Oh, she gave me her blessing ... it was just for the wrong wedding. She continued to insist that I marry Anne! Can you believe the woman? Even on her deathbed she cannot be contradicted!" Fitzwilliam gave a sad little laugh.

"Yes, that is Lady Catherine. Steadfast until her dying breath. I must ask though ... why did you not just lie to appease her? She will not be around to force you to marry Anne." Darcy looked at his cousin as if he had just said the most absurd thing ever put to words by mankind.

"I am a man of my word Fitzwilliam. If I had told Lady Catherine that I would marry Anne, then I would marry Anne. There would be no other choice; disguise of any sort is my abhorrence, and lying to appease her or protect myself is out of the question!" Fitzwilliam could not help but admire his cousin's honesty, but still wished that it didn't go quite so far; a little white lie would have spared him of Lady Catherine's outburst. Darcy drained his glass of brandy and was about to fill another when a bloodcurdling scream was heard from the direction of Lady Catherine's room. The two men looked at each other, then ran for the door. When they arrived, they found Anne lying across her mother's still form, wailing and sobbing. Georgiana sat in the chair next to the bed, quietly weeping into her hands. She turned when she heard the door open, and ran into her brother's arms.

"Oh Fitzwilliam ... Lady Catherine ... she ... she ... she is dead!"

Rosings Park
2 July

My dearest Elizabeth,

Lady Catherine DeBourgh died this afternoon shortly after our arrival in Kent. She had been suffering from a consumption for some time now, unbeknownst to anyone but herself and her physician. She is to be buried in three days. I regret that I will be unable to return to you for some time; I fear that estate business will keep me in Kent and London for at least a fortnight, and perhaps longer still. I long to see you, my love. Please tell me that you miss me as much as I miss you, and that you long to see me as well.

All my love,
Fitzwilliam Darcy

Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes as she read Darcy's letter two days later. The wedding would have to be postponed, that was clear; as guilty as she felt for putting her selfish desires ahead of the death of Lady Catherine, she could not help thinking that it was almost as if the woman had planned to die at just the right time to interrupt their plans! She sighed, then went to speak to her father about paying a visit to the Gardiners in London in the hopes of being in town when he was.

Two weeks later...

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered Darcy's study hesitantly. Ever since he had returned from the solicitor the day before, he had shut himself up in the room and not come out. Anne had chosen to stay at Rosings, with Georgiana staying to help care for her. Darcy and Fitzwilliam had come to town to resolve the final business of Lady Catherine's will, of which a new draft had been written just two days prior to her death. The solicitor had warned Darcy that a few "peculiar" provisions had been put in, and had requested a meeting. The look of absolute fury on Darcy's face as he returned to his townhouse warned Fitzwilliam not to ask until he was told; after nearly two days, though, he felt that something had to be done. Thus, he found himself entering the small room, which was dark due to the curtains being drawn. The only light came from a single candle that was almost out on the desk. Not one, but two empty decanters of brandy sat in front of Darcy, and the man himself sat in a most ungentlemanly fashion swirling a half-empty snifter. His jacket, vest, and cravat were tossed carelessly on a nearby chair, leaving only his shirt and breeches. His hair was a mess of curls, and his face was red and swollen as if he had been crying, or at least drinking very heavily. Fitzwilliam suspected both.

"Darcy," he said softly, "are you ill?" Darcy snorted.

"One could call it that, I suppose," he slurred. "My soul is ill ... my heart is ill ... it will not be long until my body is ill to follow, I'm sure."

"Would you care to tell me what is going on here?"

"Quite simple cousin. I have been sitting in this room for nearly two days without food or sleep, staring into space and drinking far too much brandy. I would have thought it was obvious!" he laughed bitterly. Fitzwilliam approached and took the seat next to him as he drained the last glass of brandy.

"And why would you do that?"

"Because I am about to lose all that is most dear to me, and the very thought of it makes me want to die in this chair right now." As he buried his head in his hands, the glass fell to the ground and shattered. Darcy's shoulders began to shake as he wept; Fitzwilliam could only look on helplessly. "Have I not suffered enough, my God? What have I done to deserve so much in pain? I finally had all that I desired, and now it is to be ripped away from me?"

"Darcy, of what are you talking? Has Elizabeth broken the engagement?"

"No ... but I must."

"WHAT? That is ridiculous man, why would you ever do that? You love that woman more than life itself!" Darcy stood with an angry glare on his face.

"You think I don't know that? She is my world! I cannot bear to think of my life without her! But I don't have a choice. I cannot leave Anne to the fate that will befall her if I ignore Lady Catherine's will." Dejected, he threw himself back into the chair.

"Fitz, you shall have to be more specific if you wish for my counsel. What is in Lady Catherine's will?"

"It says that Anne will be unable to inherit Rosings Park unless she is married to me. Her independent fortune that we had so counted on is apparently tied in with the assets of Rosings, and if the land and house go to another, the fortune goes with it. If I do not marry her, she will be poor."

"But Darcy, surely the rest of the family would take her in! She is not alone in the world!"

"Lady Catherine saw to all that. In the event that Anne has not married me by her 27th year, she must immediately report to Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, to whom she has been promised as governess to her children." Fitzwilliam's eyes widened in shock.

"Anne, a governess in Ireland? That is too cruel! Surely Lady Catherine would not force her own daughter into such a life!" Again, a bitter laugh escaped Darcy's lips.

"Of course not Fitzwilliam ... because she knew that I would marry her if given such a choice." Fitzwilliam shook his head in disbelief.

"May I see this document? I must read it for myself." Darcy gestured towards a pile of papers on the desk. After a few minutes of perusal, he found the correct section.

" 'To inherit Rosings Park, Anne must marry no further outside her bloodline than first cousin on the Fitzwilliam side. If she has not done so by her 27th birthday, she is to report ...' This is outrageous! How can she..." Fitzwilliam was silenced as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Darcy, you will not marry Anne."

"Don't be ridiculous Fitzwilliam. I cannot allow her to be a governess!"

"Of course not. But I also cannot allow you to lose the greatest love you could ever hope to find! No Darcy, you will not marry Anne ... I will."

"What?" Darcy replied, a look of utter confusion covering his features. "I don't understand you Richard."

"Perhaps it would make more sense if you had not consumed so much brandy, Fitz. Look, the will does not say 'Anne must marry Fitzwilliam Darcy.' It only says 'first cousin on the Fitzwilliam side.' As you may recall, I also qualify for that position. I am unattached and in need of a wife with fortune. Anne and I are friends; we would be comfortable and I am sure would have an amiable existence. You shall marry Elizabeth and live happily ever after. See how simple it can be?" Darcy's eyes shone with gratitude and hope.

"You would do that for me Richard? Truly?"

"Of course Darcy! It is only practical. I could do no less." Darcy pulled his cousin into a strong embrace, weeping, this time with joy.

"You are a Godsend my dear cousin. This is the second time you have come to my rescue! How shall I ever repay your kindness?" Fitzwilliam humbly shook off the compliments.

"Come, come, man, you are too much in your cups I think. I shall be gaining from this as well, you know. I am not the saint you make me out to be." Darcy would not be swayed, though, and continued to shower his cousin with compliments for as long as he could. "Yes, yes, I perfectly comprehend your feelings Darcy. Now come on, go make yourself presentable so that we may talk to the solicitor and get this matter settled. Then I suppose I should return to Rosings and propose to the bride!" With one last grateful handshake, Darcy left for his bath, leaving Colonel Fitzwilliam to wonder what his life would be like as the husband of Anne DeBourgh.

Chapter X

Posted on Monday, 25 February 2002

Anne accepted the terms of her mother's will with equanimity; she still blamed her mother's death on her previous attempt at independence, and resolved that at least in death Lady Catherine would be obeyed. She was relieved that she would not be stealing Darcy away from Elizabeth, though, and it didn't hurt that Colonel Fitzwilliam was handsome and amiable. They had always been good friends, so if she was forced into a marriage, it might as well be with him. A special license was obtained, and the ceremony was quietly performed at the chapel of Rosings. Only Darcy, Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam's parents were in attendance. The day following the ceremony, the couple left for a brief honeymoon in Bath so Anne could take the waters.

Fitzwilliam spent much of the carriage ride looking back and forth between the landscape and his new bride. The wedding night had been terribly awkward, but not wholly unpleasant for either party. Still, she had asked him to go to his own chamber to sleep, and he had been relieved to do so. They still felt too much like family, and not enough like husband and wife, to go beyond obligation just yet. As he looked at her, he wondered whether he could ever come to love Anne as he had hoped he would love his wife. A wave of sadness hit him as he thought of the difference of Darcy's situation; he and Elizabeth were the perfect example of what true, deep love should be. It was consoling to think that he had again helped his cousin to happiness, but this time the cost had been greater. At least Anne was wealthy, and they got along well; the rest could come later.

Anne's thoughts were slightly different. Since they had consummated the marriage, she had been experiencing such emotions as she had never had before. She had only asked her husband to leave because she felt that he wished it, for she would have been content to lie in his arms the night through. She knew that he did not love her; she could not truthfully say that she loved him yet either; but her heart had been touched, and the first stirrings of true affection were beginning to grow. It pained her to think that her husband might never feel the same way. Thus continued her thoughts until exhaustion overtook her and she slept.

"Anne... Anne, my dear. We have arrived," Colonel Fitzwilliam whispered as he gently shook his sleeping wife. She murmured before opening her eyes to the sight of his warm blue eyes and bright smile. Her heart melted. "Hello sleeping beauty. Are you rested? Come, let's get out of this carriage!" She smiled back at him and accepted his assistance out of the box. He shouted out orders for the footmen to take their trunks to their respective rooms, then offered his arm to Anne. "Shall we?" She nodded and they entered their home.

Darcy returned to Hertfordshire the day after Fitzwilliam's wedding. He was still racked with guilt, and only seeing Elizabeth would confirm for his heart that he had done the right thing. He rode hard for fifty miles, making the trip in almost half the time. He stopped first at Netherfield to bathe and change out of his dusty travel clothes so he was fit to be seen, then again rode hard to Longbourn. His intuition told him that Elizabeth was more likely to be outside than not, and decided to first search for her in the garden. To his disappointment, Jane and Bingley were the only ones there.

"Mr. Darcy!" she cried out in surprise. "We did not expect you, sir. Has your business been resolved? How fares poor Anne?"

"Good day Miss Bennet, Bingley. Yes, my business is done; Anne is as well as could be expected under the circumstances. I will explain in greater detail later. Right now I must see Elizabeth. Do you know where I may find her?"

"She will be so happy to see you! I believe you will find her there," Jane replied, pointing towards a prettyish sort of wilderness away from the house. Darcy bowed and went off in search of his lady.

Several minutes later, he came across Elizabeth's bonnet sitting on a tree stump near a brook. In it was a handful of hairpins, and on the ground next to it a pair of shoes and stockings. Realizing that his first sight of her in nearly a month would be barefoot with her hair down, he nearly ran down to the water in anticipation. The vision did not disappoint: Elizabeth stood in the middle of the stream, holding her skirts up above her ankles, curls flowing down her shoulders, humming softly and giggling when a small fish would swim by and tickle her. Darcy drank in every detail of her beauty, not yet wishing to make his presence known. Suddenly, a devilish grin appeared on his face as he had a most mischievous idea. He dashed downstream and crossed a little footbridge out of Elizabeth's line of vision. Hiding behind a tree, he removed his coat and boots, then snuck out to surprise Elizabeth from behind. She was still oblivious to his presence, and it was not until he wrapped his arms around her waist that she realized that she was not alone; she shrieked in alarm.

"Elizabeth, my love, it is I," Darcy whispered reassuringly, burying his face in her neck and showering it with kisses. She immediately stopped struggling and whirled around to face him, dropping her skirt into the water to put her arms in the more favorable position around his neck.

"Fitzwilliam! I have missed you so! Oh, thank you Lord, for bringing him back to me!" she cried out before pressing her lips firmly against his. He pulled her body close to his, as if to blend them into one. Each moment proved to him that he had made the right decision; there was no way he could live without this woman in his arms. He broke away from her mouth and began kissing her face and neck, eliciting passionate responses in Elizabeth that drove him further. When his knees began to weaken, he picked her up and carried her to the grass, gently laying her down and wasting no time in resuming his attentions. All thoughts of propriety and modesty were completely out of mind; they wanted only the consolation of each other's arms after so long an absence.

"Elizabeth ... we must marry soon ... I cannot be without you another day. When can it be done?" Darcy asked between breathless kisses.

"We were originally to be married next Saturday darling... it can still be done if you wish it," she replied in kind.

"I wish it were today! But next Saturday will have to do. Yes, let it be then, I will not wait a moment longer!" Thus resolved, he again devoted his full attention to the kisses and caresses that were driving himself and Elizabeth quite distracted. It was not until they heard the sound of twigs cracking underfoot and Jane's voice calling them that they broke away from each other. Quickly standing up, Elizabeth hurriedly brushed off as much grass as possible from her skirt, praying that her back would not show evidence that she had been lying in it. Darcy jumped across the stream to retrieve his coat and boots, while Elizabeth met Jane on the path.

"There you are Lizzy! I had begun to worry, you have been gone so long! Did Mr. Darcy find you?" Elizabeth blushed a deep crimson.

"Yes, he did. We were wading in the stream together. He has just gone to get his boots." Jane smiled to herself, knowing perfectly well that wading had not been the only activity taking place at the stream.

"Come on then Lizzy, let me help you arrange your hair. Strange, however did you manage to get grass in it?" she asked innocently, drawing another blush from Elizabeth. She did not wait for a reply but replaced the pins as well as she could. Darcy appeared behind them, having crossed the same bridge as before. When Elizabeth was slightly more presentable, the three of them rejoined Bingley in the garden, then went into the house to get a full report of what had occurred since they were last together.

Chapter XI

Posted on Sunday, 17 March 2002

Anne and Richard had been married for nearly a week, but he had not returned to her chamber since the wedding night. They spent their days amiably, visiting acquaintances, riding a phaeton out to the country, and talking. They talked quite a bit, in fact, and Richard realized that Anne had a great deal of wit that had been smothered during life with Lady Catherine, but which had blossomed during her stay in Hertfordshire. He made her smile and laugh, and their ease with each other grew daily. The familiarity ended at bedtime, however; each night he walked her to her chamber, kissed her hand, and bid her adieu until morning. She would prepare herself for bed each night with the hopes of hearing a knock that never came. Her frustration was great; everyday her affection for her husband grew, but he still seemed to regard her as merely a duty. At last, on her fifth straight lonely night, she made a plan to change her situation.

"Anne, I have just had a letter from Darcy. He and Elizabeth mean to marry on Saturday. Do you wish to attend?" he asked during supper the next evening.

"Oh yes, that would be lovely! Can we make the arrangements on such short notice?" He smiled that devastatingly gorgeous grin that made her melt every time.

"I have already arranged it my dear. We leave morning after next, then return to Bath for the rest of our stay on Monday. Will that suit?" Anne nodded her agreement with a smile.

After the meal, Richard walked Anne to her chamber as usual, but before he could walk away, she placed her hand on his arm.

"Richard," she said softly.

"Yes my dear?" She took a deep breath.

"Will you come to me tonight?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Why ... I ... had not ... you mean-?"

"Yes, will you come to my chamber tonight?" He took her hand in both of his.

"I do not wish to force your hand, Anne. I know this is an awkward situation, and I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by placing you in a situation you do not wish to be in." Anne lifted her chin resolutely and looked him in the eye.

"I do wish it." Richard's surprise was great; he had taken her request of solitude the first night to mean that she was not a willing participant in the duties of the marriage bed. He knew not how to reply, so only stared at her mutely. She sighed. "Richard, I know that this marriage was not entered into with our hearts. But since our wedding night, I have come to feel for you a ... warm and tender affection that goes beyond the bonds of family. I wish to truly be your wife, not only in name. I know you do not love me, but I would like to try to change that, if you will give me the opportunity." Her speech finished, she averted her eyes to the floor and blushed deeply. Her speech had been extremely forward; she had propositioned her husband, bared her heart, and declared her intention to win his heart. If he rejected her, she could not bear the mortification. Fortunately, rejection was the farthest notion from his mind.

"Anne, I had no idea you felt this way," Richard replied with astonishment. "Had I known your heart, I would have come to you before. It is true that the circumstances of our marriage were less than favorable, but I too wish to make it one of mutual admiration and respect. My feelings are not so different from yours... I will not call it love, for that is a word I will not use lightly, but it is a deeper affection than I could ever claim before. I will happily join you tonight if you will have me." Anne looked up at him with a radiant smile on her face that brought a similar one to his.

"I would be happy if you would join me every night whilst we are in Bath," she replied shyly.

Taking her face in his hand tenderly, he leaned in and kissed her gently. "Shall I see you in half an hour then?"

"Yes, thank you," she whispered. He opened the door to her chamber for her, kissing her hand before departing for his own.

As soon as he had gone, Anne closed the door and leaned against it with her eyes closed. His response had been much more than she had dared expect. He would come to her; he wished to come to her! Excitement and anticipation were making her giddy, so she set about getting ready and trying to calm herself by keeping the night ahead of her out of her thoughts for the moment.

Richard entered his chamber with a wide smile. He liked this forward Anne; he liked how her face had glowed when he told her his feelings; he liked the sweet blush that had profused her cheeks when she expressed her own so eloquently. Their relationship would be different after tonight, and he anticipated nothing but improvement in every way. As he untied his cravat, he whistled an off-key tune to keep the nervousness away.

At the appointed time, the soft knock on the door separating their bedrooms alerted Anne to Richard's presence. "Enter," she called out, and the door opened to reveal Richard in shirt and breeches. She rose to meet him, stomach fluttering wildly. He kissed both her hands, his eyes asking for permission to continue. Her warm smile was all the assurance he needed; their marriage truly began as their lips met.

Elizabeth rose before dawn the day before her wedding, her mind too occupied with the thought that it was her last morning as a Bennet to sleep late. She quickly dressed and went outside to see the sunrise. Looking to make sure that no one was nearby to see her, she broke into a run towards the grove. Winded from her sprint, she came to a stop at the stone bench past the archway and threw herself down in laughter. After several minutes of quiet solitude, she began to feel that it had been far too long since she had last seen her fiancé. She figured that by the time she had walked the three miles to Netherfield, he would surely be up, for he was an early riser as well, and perhaps they could have a few moments to themselves before the busy day that was ahead. A tiny smile crept onto her lips as she recalled the various little trysts they had had in the last several days; stolen kisses in a corridor, very long strolls in the woods ... it had been a diverting way to pass the time, to say the least. As she walked in the direction of Netherfield, she recalled the delightful sensations he always stirred in her, and was so distracted by her daydreams that she did not see the object of her fantasies until they bumped into each other.

"Elizabeth!" he cried in surprise, catching her before she fell backwards. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I was distracted by my thoughts I suppose," he said with a slight blush, perhaps implying the nature of those thoughts. All the while he continued to hold her against himself. Elizabeth had not stopped laughing since running into him.

"It appears, sir, that you were not the only one distracted, for I did not see you until the moment of impact, I'm afraid." She smiled up at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. He smiled back, her glowing cheeks and somewhat wild hair stirring memories of the first time he had seen her walking to Netherfield. He had been surprised and intrigued by her independence, and been bewitched by the sparkle of her eyes even then.

"This seems familiar to me darling; though the last time we came upon each other on this path, I was not fortunate enough to be able to take you in my arms," he teased. She laughed even more, recalling that meeting months ago.

"You are correct sir. Had you attempted it then, I believe you would have found yourself in a great deal of pain, for you were certainly not as much in my favor then as you are now!" she teased back.

"I am most grateful for your change of heart," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her. She kissed back quite eagerly, always happy to respond to his amorous advances. "Perhaps we should continue this somewhere more private my love," he whispered, tickling her neck with his breath. She shivered with pleasure and nodded her agreement. He took her hand and led her to the small pond in one of the more secluded areas of Netherfield's park. "May I tell you a secret?" he whispered. "Since returning to Netherfield, I have been to this pond after every evening that I see you."

"It is a lovely spot. I see why you like it." He smiled to himself, knowing that she did not realize his meaning.

"It is lovely indeed ... but that is not why I come here." She raised an eyebrow in question. "You must promise not to tell anyone, for it is most improper," he teased, "but I in fact come here to swim; I find that it helps cool the passions you fire in me, my love."

"Is that so? I am quite shocked! I hope you are quite alone when this occurs," she replied, arms crossed in false anger.

"Physically, yes; but in spirit you are always by my side."

"You are quite the gallant sir! If I did not know better, I would believe you were attempting to romance me!" Darcy pulled her into his arms kissed her.

"Rest assured madam; it is my life's work to romance you." She smiled sweetly at him and brushed his lips with hers.

"I love you." Without saying a word, Darcy led Elizabeth to a sort of bench that had been carved out of a log. Before she could take the seat next to him, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her before she could protest. They remained in this position for quite a while until, as was often the case, Darcy pulled away.

"I believe I could use a swim at this very moment," he breathed. Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with mischief at this thought.

"Well, sir, I will certainly not keep you from what I am sure is very beneficial exercise. I will see you at the church later this morning!" She moved to hop off his lap and walk away, but he held her tightly.

"What! Wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" he asked with feigned shock. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"What satisfaction canst thou have right now, sir?" she replied, playing along. Darcy gave her a soft kiss.

"Why, the exchange of your love's faithful vows for mine." She lightly fingered the curls around his face and traced her finger along the outline of his jaw.

"I gave thee mine before thou didst request it," she whispered.

"But I never tire of hearing it," he replied, breaking the pattern before leaning in to kiss her passionately again. After several heated moments, Elizabeth broke away first.

"Fitzwilliam, isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding? After all that has occurred, I don't wish to meddle with our good fortune."

"I suppose you are right my love, and there is still much to do; we will both be needing a hot bath after this." She gave him a quizzical look.

"After what?" He grinned wickedly.

"After this!" he yelled, and in one smooth motion, jumped into the pond with Elizabeth in his arms.

"FITZWILLIAM DARCY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? LOOK AT ME, I'M ALL WET!" Elizabeth raged. She really did not need to point this out, for Darcy had been quite admiring her wet dress clinging to her figure as he laughed heartily. She could not stay angry for long, though, and soon joined in the laughter, realizing how ridiculous they both looked. Although wetness does become him quite well ... Suddenly her laughter stopped and her eyes widened when she realized that Darcy was in the process of removing his coat and cravat. He had not bothered to put on a vest since he would have to change anyway, so in no time at all he was only in his shirt. The thin white fabric did not leave anything to the imagination, and it was all Elizabeth could do not to stare at his muscular form. Darcy reached for her and pulled her close again.

"I'm sorry darling, I couldn't resist. I do hope you will forgive me," he said, not sounding terribly repentant at all. "I must say though," he continued when she did not reply, "I am very pleased with the results." He kissed her forcefully, pressing their bodies together and making it quite clear that the swim had not fulfilled its purpose. Elizabeth could not resist running her hands along his shoulders and back, his current state of undress reminding her that tonight was their wedding night and they would be seeing much more of each other. Her body tensed slightly at that thought, and Darcy, noticing the change, stopped his kiss. "What's the matter Elizabeth?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, nothing," she brushed him off. "I was just thinking that while we are here playing in a pond, my family is waking and wondering where one of the brides has gone!" she joked, attempting to hide the true course of her thoughts. He looked as if he did not fully believe her, but decided it was best not to question her.

"I suppose I must let you return to Longbourn to prepare for the wedding. I don't want my bride to smell like a pond!" he teased.

"I might say the same for the groom!" she laughed, and pushed him down so she could run out of the pond. He ran after her playfully, but she was able to escape. "I will see you at the church sir!" she called out with a deep curtsy, then ran off in the direction of Longbourn. Darcy stood looking after her with a smile until she disappeared, then returned to Netherfield to prepare for the happiest day of his life.

The carriage ride from Bath to Hertfordshire was done at a leisurely pace with a stop in London, and early on the morning of the wedding Anne and Richard pulled into the lane leading to Netherfield. Their recent nights together had brought them closer together, and affection was quickly growing between them. They spent most of the ride sitting close together, holding hands and exchanging feathery kisses. They were almost sorry to interrupt their solitude, but this was a wedding that could not be missed.

The carriage stopped in front of the steps of Netherfield Hall, and Richard helped Anne out. Mr. Bingley walked out to greet them.

"Fitzwilliam, Anne, it is a pleasure to see you! Please do come in and have some breakfast!"

"Thank you Bingley, we appreciate your hospitality. Are you ready to be wed?" Fitzwilliam replied. Bingley's face broke into an even wider, goofier grin.

"I believe I have been ready since I first saw my lovely Jane," he replied with a dreamy gaze. "I have been dressed since 5 o'clock this morning! Darcy, on the other hand, seems to still be in bed! I don't know how he can contain himself on this morning!"

"You are mistaken Bingley, I have been up since 4 this morning," replied a deep voice from the doorway. "I have been out in the park. Could you please call for a bath for me?" Darcy stepped into the corridor, and much to everyone's surprise, he was wet from head to toe and smelling rather like stagnant water. "Hello Anne, Fitz. I trust you had a good journey."

"Yes, excellent," Fitzwilliam replied. "May I ask why you are in this, um, condition?" Darcy blushed slightly.

"I ... I went for a swim," he replied. "I think that is obvious enough. Excuse me," and before another word could be said, he disappeared up the stairs.

Later that same day, two handsome but nervous-looking young men stood at the altar of the Longbourn church. Bingley had a permanent and goofier than usual grin on his face; Darcy looked even more serious and grave than usual, but the light in his eyes showed that he was more than content to be where he was. It seemed to the gentlemen that it was taking an eternity for their brides to arrive, but at last the music signaling their entrance started and the ladies themselves began walking up the aisle on the arms of their father. There were two sharp intakes of breath as the gentlemen watched them. Darcy still could barely believe his luck; Elizabeth would be his wife at last. It seemed too good to be true, in fact, and throughout the ceremony he half-expected something horrible to happen, like someone to come rushing in to claim that Elizabeth was already married, and that her insane husband lived in the attics of Longbourn or something. Fortunately, the ceremony went off without a hitch, and in under an hour the priest declared them to be man and wife. When those words were spoken, relief and joy coursed through Darcy's body as he had never felt before. Slowly, his lips curled up into a grin, and by the time he had walked back down the aisle with the new Mrs. Darcy by his side, it had grown into a full-blown, ear-to-ear smile that rivaled even Bingley's.

The wedding breakfast was a simple affair at Longbourn. Everyone approached the happy couples with heartfelt congratulations, which unfortunately did not give them much time to enjoy each other's company. Darcy slipped away from Elizabeth when he noticed Sir William Lucas heading their way, and found a quiet corner to stand in for temporary relief. Though nothing could bring him out of his good humor, his patience for society was being sorely tested, especially since all he wanted was to be alone with his new wife.

Elizabeth finally managed to extricate herself from the jovial clutches of Sir William, and spied Darcy standing alone with a strange smile on his face. She approached him and whispered, "I can guess the subject of your reverie." He smiled, but did not look at her.

"I should imagine not."

"You are considering how you hate being in society for so long, and wish to run off to Pemberley with your lovely wife and never return," she teased.

"Though your conjecture is not totally wrong, I assure you that my mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which seeing two people falling in love can bestow." He nodded his head in the direction in which he had been looking. In another corner of the room, Richard Fitzwilliam was standing very close to his wife, holding her right hand to his lips and planting soft kisses on her palm, their eyes locked in an affectionate gaze. Anne used her other hand to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear, and let her fingers trace their way along his cheek before resting it on his arm. Elizabeth smiled at her own dear husband.

"I am very happy for them."

"Yes, after all Richard has done for me, I am glad that he will find his own happiness."

"You know, if it had not been for him, this day may never have come. I very much disliked you before your sudden change of heart at Rosings," Elizabeth teased. Darcy's face grew serious.

"Please do not speak of that time Elizabeth. My behavior to you then was unpardonable; I cannot think of it without abhorrence. I can only imagine what may have occurred had my cousin not beaten sense into my head. I actually believed that if I proposed then, you would be wishing, expecting my addresses! The truth would have been a rude awakening indeed. I am not sure I could have survived your rejection; indeed, the very thought of living without you by my side is unbearable even now." He closed his eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out. Elizabeth brushed his cheek with her fingertips.

"Fortunately, I have no intention of allowing you to live that way. You shall have me by your side always, probably more so than you might wish!" He laughed softly and gave her his first kiss as her husband.

"That, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, is an assertion that I will gladly test for the rest of my days."

The End