Section I, Next Section

Part the First

Posted on Wednesday, 24 July 2002, at 2:00 p.m.

The assembly in Meryton was in full swing as Elizabeth, finally able to rest from the dancing, looked about the room. She noticed Mr Bingley and his friend, Mr Darcy, quite close in front of her. Mr Bingley was all a gentleman could be hoped to be. He had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His friend, however, was quite a different matter. He was tall and handsome, and very fine, but his overall reserve and haughty manner had given the good people of Meryton a distaste for him, despite his 10,000 a year. Lizzie had heard the rumblings of complaint which made her more interested in observing him than heretofore. It was unusual that a man of such wealth could so quickly inspire the universal disgust of her neighbours, who she had been sure would admire rank and wealth above all things.

There was a lull in the music, and though not at all attempting to overhear the conversation between the two men, Lizzie could not but help hear Bingley suggest to Darcy that he dance with her.

"Which do you mean?" said Darcy, looking back to see her.

Lizzie could not resist looking up, knowing his eyes were on her, and their glance met for a moment. What she saw in his eyes surprised her. It was not the confident, arrogant stare she had suspected; there was an instant of near terror exposed in his vivid green eyes.

He swiftly regained his haughty demeanour and turned back to Bingley, saying coldly, "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men."

The rest of his words were indistinct as the music started up again and Bingley went back to Jane, his partner. Darcy walked off, leaving Lizzie with much to think on.

Lizzie was at first very nettled by his words, after all she was second only to Jane in beauty in her family and in the neighbourhood. It was a fact that anybody with the least bit of discernment should have been aware of. And as for being slighted by other men! Well! Men were scarce, but Lizzie had actually refused one officer because she had wanted a rest from the dancing. She laughed at the irony of it, and then at herself for taking it so to heart. What was Mr Darcy and his opinion to her after all? Well, it was actually hard to tell. She was not indifferent to him. Whether she liked or disliked him she did not yet know, at the moment she leaned toward dislike, but she didn't want to make any hasty judgements.

Lizzie enjoyed studying character and new people were always of interest to her. Bingley was an open book; she was sure she had made him out within three minutes of meeting him, but Mr Darcy was something else. There was a complexity to him that she could not yet understand and she was intrigued. If he were a friend of Bingley's, he must have good qualities. And there was that look she had caught in his eye, the look of a startled deer, that she could not equate with the man he presented himself to be.

She watched him furtively for the rest of the evening as she danced with the officers. He stood looking off at the ceiling most of the time, not talking to anyone outside of his own party, and even then very little, and dancing only once each with his friend's two sisters. He did not look to be enjoying himself at all. Why had he come then if he did not mean to dance? To please his friend? Lizzie discovered that she had found another point in his favour. To attend the Assembly when it was obviously insufferable for him to be present, just to please his friend, was surely a sign of goodness of character. Lizzie tried to determine whether his hauteur bespoke disdain or unease. That all of Meryton saw it as disdain was clear, but she thought that, in an unguarded moment, unease was detectable. In one moment there would appear a discomfort of his surroundings, but at the next the look of hauteur would return and he would appear only sullen and aloof. While the music played around her, and she followed the steps of the dance with a grace that belied her inattention, Lizzie could think of nothing else.

They returned home from the assembly, all bustle and high spirits, Mrs Bennet regaling Mr Bennet with a colourful account of the affair, glorying in Jane's success, and delineating Mr Bingley's every move. Mr Bennet was moved to exclaim, "Oh, that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!" This didn't stop Mrs Bennet, who went on to relate Mr. Darcy's shocking rudeness and his insult to Lizzie in a way that left Mr Bennet in no confusion as to his dear wife's feelings towards the man.

As Mrs Bennet and the younger girls continued to exclaim about the joys of the evening, Mr Bennet turned to Lizzie, and quietly asked, "So Lizzie, how did you perceive the gentlemen? I know I will get a more accurate account from you than from your mother. Mr Bingley I have met, but what of this Mr Darcy? Is your mother to be believed? Did he indeed snub you?"

"Oh father," answered Lizzie. "He did not really snub me, for it was a private conversation that I overheard, and although he must have been aware that I was close enough to hear him quite clearly, we must give Mr Darcy the benefit of the doubt. A man is, after all, entitled to his own opinion. I own I was a bit put out at first, but now I can laugh at my own folly for overhearing something that should put my vanity firmly in its place. Mr Darcy makes no effort to please, as his friend does, but though he may be disagreeable I don't know that he is truly horrid, as mother says. I'm sure he has some redeeming qualities."

"Come, come, my dear, you sound just like Jane," teased Mr Bennet. "I had hoped for a more decided opinion from you."

"That would be difficult at this point, dear father," laughed Lizzie, "as I have not yet decided what exactly my opinion of him is!"

The next day Charlotte came to visit, and the three girls went into the garden to discuss the festivities of the night before

"Jane, you were certainly singled out by Mr Bingley! Two dances!" said Charlotte. "That speaks of a decided preference."

Jane smiled.

"And such a pleasant gentleman too," continued Charlotte. "So handsome and lively."

"He is just what a young man ought to be," said Jane happily.

"Well, I can see that you are quite as taken with him as he with you! Mind that you show it when you are in his company. You are always so demure," said Charlotte. "Ah, Lizzie. It is unfortunate that you were not so lucky as Jane."

"Indeed, she was singled out, and I, well . . . quite the opposite," laughed Lizzie. "But I do not hold it against the man, to be sure."

"He could not really have meant what he said," said Jane. "You must have misheard him."

"I think the rich may behave as proudly as they chose without censure. I do not think Mr Darcy so disagreeable because of his pride," said Charlotte. "But his slighting of you, Lizzie, shows a sad want of taste. Of course the society he usually keeps must be so elevated that we all must appear quite bumptious to him."

""Quite, I am afraid!" laughed Lizzie.

"And what did you really think of him Lizzie?" Charlotte persisted. "I thought him terribly handsome. It is no wonder that he is so proud, he appears to have much to be proud of."

"To tell the truth," said Lizzie to Charlotte, "I thought him the most handsome man of my acquaintance, although I must admit, my society has been quite restricted."

"That is praise indeed," said Charlotte. "But do not forget the Militia. There are a lot of handsome officers stationed at Meryton."

"I can see past a red coat, Charlotte my dear," said Lizzie. "And I can truthfully say that none can compare."

"I think Mr Bingley quite as handsome, only more so," said Jane, blushing.

"Mr Bingley's looks are so much the better," said Lizzie, "because he is not only handsome of feature, but of countenance. Mr Darcy has the better features, but lacks the open, friendly countenance of his friend."

"I think his hauteur gives him a great deal of dignity that is quite attractive," said Charlotte.

"And do you know what I think, Charlotte?" asked Lizzie playfully. "This will surely shock you both, but I think his haughty attitude is a mask for shyness."

"Mr Darcy shy!" cried Charlotte. "I'd sooner call Mr Bingly a twit!"

"Oh!" said Jane, coming quickly to his defence. "Mr Bingley is a very sensible man, I can assure you."

"My point exactly," said Charlotte.

"You may find it hard to believe, said Lizzie. "But I have come to the conclusion that Mr Darcy is a very shy man, and because of this there is much in his behaviour that I can forgive."

Part the Second

Posted on Thursday, 25 July 2002, at 1:44 p.m.

In the fortnight that passed since the assembly, Lizzie had the joy of watching Jane and Mr Bingley become better acquainted. They appeared to be developing a fond regard for each other. Of Bingley's friend, Mr Darcy, she knew little more than before. Although he regularly attended all the same dinners as his friend, he had not yet sought out anyone's company but that of his own party. Lizzie noticed him looking at her occasionally but knew not what to attribute these looks to. What could he mean by them?

Darcy himself was not sure what he meant by the looks. Ever since the Assembly, he had been chastising himself for the impolite comment that he knew must have been overheard. Why had he let his ill humour get the best of him? How arrogant he must have sounded. Miss Elizabeth Bennet must think him ate up with pride and self consequence. He had glanced back and seen a young lady like any other, and he had suddenly felt that shiver down his spine; the feeling he got whenever he was singled out by those avaricious young ladies who were looking for a husband. Sometimes his fortune was more of a burden than a blessing. He had reacted immediately, irritated by Bingley for haranguing him, annoyed with the female population for pursuing him, and he had said the first thing that came into his head. She had heard him. He knew that. He had seen the look of chagrin spread across her face. Well, it was done and there was nothing he could do. He deliberated, the next time they were in company together, going up to her and apologising, but how could he, with propriety, go up to a young lady he didn't really know, and say, "You overheard an uncivil remark that I made the other day and I am truly sorry. I was in a foul mood and didn't mean a word of it. You are actually quite pleasing to look at. I just did not care to dance." It was impossible. It was unthinkable. For one thing, he wouldn't even be able to get one half of a sentence out with her eyes upon him.

That first day he had noticed nothing special about her, but it seemed that he was doomed to see her at every social event that he attended, and be subsequently rendered speechless by mortification at the remembrance of his thoughtless outburst. His eye was drawn automatically to her and it wasn't long before he noticed that she had a pair of very fine, dark eyes. One realisation followed another; she had a light and pleasing figure, playful manners, a lively disposition, and a fresh, glowing complexion. He often came up close to her, but hesitated to talk to her. How could he without first making the apology, and how was it to be made?

They were in company at Sir William's one evening, when he stood near both Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas as they talked to Colonel Foster. On his approaching the two young ladies again a little later, trying to get up the nerve to say something, Miss Bennet turned to him and said, "Did you not think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Foster to give us a ball at Meryton?"

"With great energy; - but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic," Darcy blurted out, realising too late how patronising he must sound.

How was it she could archly bring up the topic of overheard conversations so easily when he could not manage to do it at all? Of course, he had been in the wrong both times, whereas she had not. Darcy did not know what would have resulted if the conversation had continued, but Miss Lucas was urging her to play, and they went over to the instrument.

How am I ever to get to know the man, thought Lizzie as she walked to the pianoforte. It was as if he had built a wall around himself that could not be scaled. Yet why does he look at me, and why does he come and stand close to me and initiate nothing? As she played she noticed him leaning against the far wall, gazing in abstraction at her direction. She longed to get past his shyness and discover the real person within. She gave up the piano to her sister Mary who was entreated to play some Scottish and Irish airs so that the young people could dance.

Darcy stood watching the dancers with a look of disdain on his face. The younger Bennet girls were so loud and boisterous, vulgar in their forwardness. It was surprising that their two elder sisters were so ladylike, Miss Jane Bennet so sweet and refined, Miss Elizabeth Bennet with her engaging pertness. The youngest Miss Bennet let out a squeal of laughter as she went around the set, and Darcy shuddered at the thought of his sister ever being in the company of such a girl, let alone acting like her. It was unthinkable. Suddenly, he found himself being adressed by his host:

"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr Darcy! - There is nothing like dancing after all. - I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies."

What was that bumptious knight going on about now, Darcy wondered. Polished society? This? How could he respond to such mindless social banter? This was not his forte. It was one of the many things that caused him anxiety when not with his own set. Now, how to shut the man up and have him go on his way without being uncivil?

"Certainly sir," he started agreeably. "And it has the advantage of being in vogue among the least polished societies of the world. - every savage can dance."

But, unfortunately, the comment was lost on Sir William, who droned on about dancing. Bingley's dancing, Darcy's dancing, dancing in St James. How insufferable to have to put up with such inane prattle! Darcy replied as shortly as possible, bowed in acknowledgement of owning a house in London, and found himself unable to respond at all to Sir William's last remark, as he had not heard a word of it. His attention had been diverted by the approach of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and his mind had gone straight back to his predicament. If he did not soon apologise to the Lady it would be too late. Even now what would she think? "A fortnight ago I made a remark that you must have found very hurtful." She would think him a fool, no doubt. He awoke from his reverie to the realisation that Sir William was offering Miss Elizabeth to him as a dance partner. Much as he disliked dancing, he was not loath to take the opportunity to try to make amends for the other occasion.

Mr Darcy looked at her, trying hard to keep his composure, and asked, "Would you do me the great honour of standing up with me?" He wished he could take the words back as soon as they were said. He had sounded so stiff and pompous, so uninviting. He wished he had said something else, like it would be a pleasure to dance with you, or , better yet, do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel? If he had another opportunity, he might use that one, but for now he could not utter another word.

Lizzie felt for him having been forced into making a request that it was patently obvious he had not wanted to make. She was sure there was not a soul in the room who felt less like dancing than he, and on no account would she inflict such misery on him, no matter that she would have liked to dance with him if he had truly wanted to. She also wanted in some way to show this man that she harboured no ill feelings for him on account of his ill-judged comment, so she smiled and said, "Mr Darcy is all politeness."

His face still distant, he acknowledged her refusal with a nod that gave nothing away. She hoped that he had understood her. His silence left her no options and so she gave him another smile, and continued on her way towards Charlotte, who was sitting on the other side of the room.

Darcy looked after her, unsure what to make of the scene that had just played out. She had not wished to dance with him, but she did not appear to be angry with him, if her smiles were anything to go by. She must truly be very good natured.

Sir William was forgotten, in fact neither Darcy nor Lizzie had paid the least bit of attention to his rambling remarks after the invitation had been made. He wandered off, not the least bit troubled by this treatment, and started up a conversation with Mrs Long who was very pleased to talk to him.

Caroline Bingley sidled up behind Darcy and, over his shoulder, spoke with great familiarity into his ear.

"I can guess the subject of your reverie."

Darcy almost jumped out of his skin. Oh, could she please stop doing that! She was his friend's sister, and at times an amusing companion, but she was, like most of the women he knew, making a cast for him and he was tired at only being seen as husband material. He recovered his equanimity and replied abruptly, "I should imagine not." He was used to crossing wits with Caroline and she would not best him.

"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner - in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people!"

"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow." There, that should give her pause.

Caroline felt a warm glow suffuse her body. It had only been a matter of time after all. Compared to this company her attributes must have finally hit him with the force of a hammer. She looked into his cool green eyes, and laughed up at him, teasing coyly, "Whose eyes? What lady has inspired such reflections in you? I desire that you tell me now for I cannot suffer such suspense."

Even better, thought Darcy. She thinks I am referring to her; what amazing conceit! Now he would set her straight. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Caroline almost reeled with the shock. What game was he playing? This could not be! "Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? - and pray when am I to wish you joy?" she asked with malice. Two could play at this game.

"That is exactly the question I expected you to ask," retorted Darcy, smugly, pleased to see that his shot had hit home. "A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."

Caroline seethed, but she had plenty of ammunition left, and she was not one to back down from a challenge. "Nay if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. The two younger Miss Bennets may be your bridesmaids. I can just see them now, winking at all the officers from the bridal procession. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at Pemberly with you. And next summer you must have her chaperone Georgianna for her coming out. She will attend the presentation at St. James in a hat with more ostrich feathers than the whole company combined, and dripping with jewels too, all at your expense of course. Oh, and be sure to have Miss Mary Bennet sing and play for you as much as possible . . ."

Darcy let her wit flow long, he wasn't paying the least bit of attention. He had much better things to think about that included a certain pair of fine eyes and the person who owned them, and did not involve her family at all.

Part the Third

Posted on Monday, 29 July 2002, at 7:02 p.m.

Lizzie was distressed to find that Jane had taken ill on her visit to Netherfield, and the lack of use of the carriage would not stop her in her determination to be with her sister. She walked along lanes bordered by hedgerows, over styles, and through meadows, disregarding the mud that soaked her half boots and stockings and liberally spattered the hem of he petticoats.

She was shown into the breakfast room, much to the surprise of all the company. Caroline and Louisa rolled their eyes at each other, and Bingley jumped up and shook her hand, giving her all the latest information on Jane's illness and commending her for her caring devotion to her sister. Darcy greeted her and said little else, the shock of unexpectedly seeing her, when he had just been thinking about her, had bereft him of speech. Mr Hurst looked up to see what all the commotion was, and then applied himself to his breakfast when he had ascertained that it was nothing of importance.

Lizzie was shown to her sister's room where she found Jane happy to see her but not at all well. Lizzie held her hand, and encouraged her to go back to sleep, and then sat quietly contemplating Jane's flushed face until she was joined by the two girls.

"How is our dear Jane?" asked Louisa, in condoling accents. "Poor sweet girl!"

"She is not well at all," said Lizzie. "I hope that I will be able to take her home. The horses are being used in the fields now, but in the evening they will be free."

"What!" said Caroline, "take our dear Jane? No, she must stay so we can nurse her. I will not leave her side till she is well. I have been beside myself with worry for her all morning."

Lizzie thought that both sisters displayed laudatory sentiments, but indeed wondered at their sincerity. They had not seemed so full of concern when she had first seen them in the breakfast parlour nonchalantly eating fingers of toast and strawberry preserve. The apothecary came and said that Jane was quite unwell and must not be moved, and as Jane begged her sister not to leave her, Lizzie was invited to stay until Jane recovered.

Lizzie felt uncomfortable in her present situation. She had no liking for the two sisters and suspected they felt the same about her. She felt a thrill at spending so much time in the same establishment as Mr Darcy, but believed that it was somehow wrong of her to feel that way. What was it about him that interested her? Was she merely still trying to make out his character, or was she interested in him for more superficial reasons, like his startlingly good looks. She as yet knew nothing of his true nature. She told herself not to be so foolish, and spent the rest of the morning seeing to Jane's comfort while Louisa and Caroline gossiped for Jane's entertainment. They stayed with Jane until It was time to dress for dinner, whether from a caring and lively interest in Jane and an earnest desire for her company, or because the gentlemen were away from the house, Lizzie was not sure, but she supposed the latter.

At dinner Lizzie had the misfortune to be seated next to Mr Hurst while Mr Darcy was seated between the two sisters who spent the whole meal regaling him with anecdotes. Bingley was at the head of the table and asked with great concern about Jane a number of times, but was really too far from Lizzie to carry on a conversation. Mr Hurst showed a great appreciation for his wine and his food and little interest in talking. After he discovered that she preferred a plain dish to ragout he really had no more to say to her. Lizzie could not wait to get back to Jane, and when she did she carried all the good wishes for her recovery that Bingley could utter, and offers of any assistance that she would wish for her comfort. When Lizzie saw Jane safely asleep, she made her way back to the drawing room in search of a book. The door was slightly open and as she was about to go through it she hesitated upon hearing Jane's name mentioned from within. She became perfectly still.

" . . . I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance for it."

Lizzie bristled at the contempt she heard in Caroline's voice. She knew she should leave at once, but she couldn't make her feet respond. The voices were a bit muffled and then Caroline's voice carried to her again.

" . . . they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."

"That is capital!" laughed Louisa, and Caroline's sarcastic laughter joined hers.

"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside it would not make them one jot less agreeable," cried Bingley .

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," she heard Mr Darcy say.

That did it. Lizzie turned and ran back to her room thinking only that she and Jane had to get out of the house as soon as possible. Her every feeling was mortified. Upon entering the room she found that Jane was sleeping fitfully and she had to compose her agitation of mind so as not to disturb her sister. She sat in an armchair and took some deep breaths. Hateful, hateful girls! How dared they laugh about the Gardiners, her truly best and most beloved aunt and uncle. They were judging them just upon where they lived! She then remembered Bingley's outburst and her heart warmed to him. Oh that such a sincere and sensible man should have such sisters! Jane was so lucky to have found a man who judged people on their own worth, who valued goodness and character above status and money. But what stung the most was what had sent her flying back to the room. "it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying". And why should the fact that Mr Darcy said it make it even worse? Lizzie tried to reason out her reaction. Was it that he could influence his friend? Was it fear for Jane's future happiness? No, she felt that Bingley would follow his heart. What then? Suddenly a thought materialised. A ghost of a thought that she hurriedly tried to stop in its tracks. 'If those are his feelings than that would materially lessen your chances of marrying . . . him.' I do not think that! - was her initial response. I am too sensible to let any silly thought like that influence me. I have no interest in him at all in that direction. To be sure, I want to make him out, to understand his character, and he does have very expressive green eyes, and I like the way his dark hair curls on his forehead, and . . . I do not think of him in any other way at all. One can't help but notice a gentleman's looks, after all they are right there for all to see, but there is a difference between that and having more tender feelings. Lizzie was quite sure that she had no tender feelings. As she relaxed she had to acknowledge that the reason the remark had bothered her so much was because it was true. It was that simple.

She went over to Jane's side and checked on her again. Her sleep was more settled now. Lizzie felt a pang that she had put her feelings above Jane. They could not leave the house until Jane was better. Lizzie was going to have to meet and converse with all these people until then and try not to let what she overheard affect her behaviour. Lizzie sighed. She had learned from this experience and her other recent one that when one overhears private conversations, one might not like what is heard. She would try to be more circumspect from now on.

Lizzie stayed with Jane until quite late. Jane had woken a few times, feverish, and had taken a little broth and later a few sips of tea, and now she was sleeping more comfortably. Lizzie bathed her forehead until it felt much cooler. The trip downstairs to join the company had to be made, Lizzie knew she could not put it off any longer. She found all the party at loo in the drawing room, and declined to play, picking up a book instead.

Bingley, of course, had asked after Jane as soon as Lizzie had entered the room, and when she was settled in her corner with her book, Darcy turned to her with a searching look. She feared meeting his eyes, as if he would be able to see in them that silly thought that had come unbidden to her mind, but then she chided herself for foolishness and looked up. When their eyes met she felt a sudden jolt and it was Darcy's turn to look down.

"You were a long time with your sister," he said with some diffidence. "How is . . . is she any better?"

"She is sleeping easily for the moment," replied Lizzie, "but I do not know how long it will last. I am only able to stay below stairs for a short time; I do not like to leave her alone."

"Do not wear yourself down," he said, and appeared about to say more, when his attention was claimed by Caroline and he returned to the game.

Lizzie sat holding the book without opening it. What Mr Darcy had said had been said with some compassion of feeling and had caused her senses to react with jumbled confusion. She cautioned herself to be steady, and opened her book, reading the whole first page without taking in a word of it.

Mr Hurst took that moment to notice that Lizzie was in the room and called out to her:

"Do you prefer reading to cards?"

Lizzie was just about to answer that she would not be down for long and had no wish to disrupt the game by joining it, when Caroline answered for her.

"Miss Eliza Bennet despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else."

Mr Hurst looked aghast, and his dear wife, Louisa, tittered.

"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Lizzie, feeling her anger towards Caroline rise again. She took a breath to calm herself. "I am not a great reader and I have pleasure in many things."

Lizzie returned to her book but was unable to attend to it. She felt all the awkwardness of the situation she was in, being in a house where she was not wanted by the majority of the inhabitants. She desired only to go back to Jane, but did not see how she could politely leave the room so quickly after her outburst. She laid her book aside and approached the card table, being drawn by a conversation about Darcy's sister. She placed herself between Bingley and Caroline, where there was an opening at the table.

"I never cease to be delighted by dear Georgianna!" said Caroline in high rapture. "There is no young lady of my acquaintance to equal her! Perfect manners, lovely countenance, and so very accomplished. Why, her playing is simply exquisite!"

"Young ladies are amazingly accomplished these days," cried Bingley. "They all paint tables, cover screens, net purses, and any number of things."

"Many people feel that is all that is needed to call a young lady accomplished," said Darcy. "She just has to trim a bonnet or paint a stool and her abilities are extolled. But truly Bingley, can you honestly say that you know very many really accomplished ladies? I am sure I have encountered no more than five."

"I quite agree," said Caroline. "It takes much more to be accomplished than that. I'm sure I barely know any truly accomplished young ladies."

"You must have quite a high standard that you judge them by," said Lizzie. She kept to herself the thought that followed next: 'and do you believe yourself in this select group?'

"Oh certainly," cried Caroline, eager to show off her fine, discerning mind, "to be truly accomplished a lady must have a complete knowledge of music, singing, dancing, modern languages, and drawing. She must have a certain 'je ne se quoi' in her bearing, manner and voice."

"Indeed," said Lizzie, stifling a laugh at Caroline's superior attitude. She looked across the table and caught Darcy looking at her with a twinkle in his eyes and a little smile playing on his lips. His expression immediately became austere.

"She must possess all this," he said gravely, "and to it add the most important element, the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."

"Well, if that is the case," remarked Lizzie, "I am surprised at your knowing any accomplished ladies. To know five is beyond expectation. I am sure I have never seen so much taste, ability, and elegance of mind united."

"How can you say so, Miss Eliza?" cried Caroline. "You are too severe on your own sex. Why, Louisa and I count many such ladies amongst our acquaintance!"

"You do?" countered Lizzie. "But hadn't you just said that you knew barely any?"

Caroline sputtered and knew not what to say in return. Bingley laughed indulgently at his sister, and Darcy gave Lizzie an appraising look.

"By g*d! - is nobody attending to their cards?" exclaimed Mr Hurst.

There was a round of apologies as everyone returned to their game. Lizzie took the opportunity to excuse herself and return to her room to spend the remainder of the evening with her sister.

As Jane slept fitfully, Lizzie pondered the intricacies of Darcy's character. If indeed her interest in him stemmed merely from her habit of studying character, than she had come much closer to fulfilling this end. He was surely proud; his statement on her and Jane's chances for a good marriage proved that. But he had also shown himself to have compassion, to disdain superficiality, and to value education in a woman.

During the remainder of her stay, Lizzie spent as much time as she could nursing her sister, and avoiding the superior Miss Bingleys. They spent less and less time with their 'dear Jane', much to Lizzie's relief. She could not avoid having dinner with the rest of the company and spending a few hours every evening in the drawing room. She was finding it increasingly difficult to be civil to Caroline, and to keep her mind off Mr Darcy. She found that she had to steel herself against him because developing an interest would be fruitless and only result in pain and disappointment. Despite one or two looks when she had caught him unawares, she could see nothing to indicate that he thought about her one way or another. Though polite, he continued to be reticent and aloof, and she tried her best at countering her interest in him by playful little jabs of wit at his expense to prove to herself that she was not in danger. In fact she was not quite proud of her own behaviour. At times he confused her by appearing to show some sort of interest, but the circumstances always involved encroaching behaviour towards him on Caroline's part, and she suspected he was doing it only to put Caroline off. It certainly did increase Caroline's enmity towards herself.

One evening, while Caroline was playing some lively Scottish airs and casting alluring glances at Darcy, he approached Lizzie and asked her to dance in such a way that she was not quite sure if it was an invitation to dance, or just a remark about the music making one feel like dancing. Lizzie knew not what to make of it, as she was well aware that Mr Darcy did not like dancing, and so decided that he was only approaching her to needle Caroline. Lizzie's spirit rose in offence at being used in such a manner, and it caused her to answer quite challengingly:

"You wanted me, I know, to say "Yes," that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all - now despise me if you dare." There, she thought, that serves you right for using me as a dupe to thwart Caroline's advances towards you. I do not like the position you are putting me in. She hoped that her cutting remark would offend and cause him a twinge of guilt, but his reaction was totally unexpected.

"Indeed I do not dare," he said in a gentle voice, with that same smile playing about his lips that she had seen once before.

Teasing, teasing man! What was he about? She knew that his smile should not affect her the way that it did, but her anger towards him dissipated, and she could almost believe for a moment that he had really meant to be gallant towards her. Then Caroline, who could not bear to see Darcy and Lizzie in a tête-à-tête, finished her playing and insisted that 'Miss Liza' take her turn at the instrument. She took Darcy's arm, and in a proprietary manner began to stroll around the room with him.

On another occasion, Darcy was reading, and Caroline, having no luck at distracting him from his book, invited Lizzie to walk about the room with her. Lizzie could not but suspect such a show of friendship, especially on account of the smirk that accompanied the invitation, but she accepted because to do otherwise would have appeared rude. Not long after they started to walk, Darcy's attention was caught by the novelty of the invitation; he was as much aware of Caroline's animosity towards Lizzie as Lizzie herself was, and he laid down his book. Caroline began immediately to tease him:
"Oh do you not wish to walk with us? Why ever not? What can you mean by thinking we have other motives for walking? I am dying to know your meaning."

"He means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing." Said Lizzie, wishing she had not allowed herself to be placed in such a position by Caroline.

But Caroline could not rest until she knew his meaning, and Darcy was quite willing to impart it.

"Either you wish to show your figures to advantage, or you are wanting to share confidences, if the latter I should indeed be in the way, and if the former, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."

"Oh! Abominable! We must punish such a speech!" cried Caroline.

"Nothing so easy," said Lizzie. "We could tease him - laugh at him- you must know how it is to be done."

"Oh no! We cannot tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! Darcy is a man without fault and cannot be laughed at; he would hug himself!"

"That is unfortunate, for I dearly love a laugh."

"Miss Bingley gives me more credit than I deserve," said Darcy. "No man can be without fault. Though it has been the study of my life to avoid such weaknesses, I must admit that I have an unyielding temper, perhaps I am even resentful, and my good opinion once lost is lost forever."

"That is a failing indeed," said Lizzie, "but you have chosen your fault well, I cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."

"There is, I believe, a tendency in every disposition to some particular evil which not even the best education can overcome," said Darcy with that same little smile.

"And your defect," said Lizzie, in an effort to dispel the warm glow within her that his smile created, "is a propensity to hate everybody."

"And yours is wilfully to misunderstand them," Darcy returned, his face once again austere.

Caroline, finding herself left out of the conversation, begged her sister for a little music, and Lizzie excused herself from the room, her feelings quite overset by the interchange.

The next day, Jane was able to come to dinner, much to Bingley's pleasure, and in the afternoon went for a stroll with him and his sisters in the garden, her first outing since her arrival. Lizzie found herself alone in the drawing room with Mr Darcy. She made a good show of reading her book. She did not dare to even cast her gaze up at him. She knew that her effort not to grow attached to him had failed abysmally. She felt that she was in great danger of losing her heart, and she could not let that happen. In the last few days she discovered that he enjoyed reading, was well versed in many subjects, was intelligent, a kind and caring brother, a good friend, and he had a subtle sense of humour. She had always supposed that she preferred gentlemen with open, engaging manners, but she was intrigued by his quietness and his well-masked vulnerability. And then there were his green eyes that she was afraid of getting lost in, and his sweet smile that only appeared on those rare occasions, and which caused utter confusion within her. But not to be forgotten was his pride and his position, his comment about her and Jane's poor connections, and the all important fact that he neither admired her looks nor was in any way attracted to her, and had only found her useful as a foil against Caroline. She understood that. A man of his income, bearing, and person must be the target for every match making mamma, every husband hunting socialite. He must have so many beautiful and well to do ladies casting out lures for him that it was no wonder that a simple country girl like her would have made no impression on him whatsoever.

If Lizzie could have been privy to Darcy's thoughts, she would have been very surprised. He sat in his chair, the picture of studious calmness, but could neither read nor think clearly knowing that he was alone in the room with her. He had never had a woman make such an impression on him as she had done. When she had arrived at Netherfield, he had been thinking about her, superficially musing on her dark eyes and regretting that he had never been able to explain himself to her regarding his comment. Now he was struggling within himself to understand why he was almost willing to overthrow all his convictions regarding status and connection, and allow himself to more than admire Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to allow himself to be overpowered by the feelings that were threatening to engulf his reason. It took all his strength of mind, and a liberal dose of reminding himself of Mrs Bennet and all the younger, wild Miss Bennets to bring himself back to rational thought. He made the mistake of looking up at her lovely countenance that was concentrated on her book and he felt a pang at the fact that this girl who had him in such a turmoil was so oblivious to him. She paid him no excess of attention like all the other ladies of his acquaintance, which paradoxically pleased him and pained him. How was it that she was not attracted to him? He cursed himself under his breath for being a fool, put away his book, and strode out of the room before he lost what little sense remained and made a complete fool of himself.

Lizzie sighed as he left the room without even acknowledging her presence, then she became aware of a very unusual rumbling noise coming from the settle in the far corner. She got up to investigate, and found Mr Hurst sleeping most indecorously upon the satin cushions, smelling strongly of spirits. For that half hour that had caused the both of them so much pain, Darcy and Lizzie had not been alone after all!

Part the Fourth

Posted on Tuesday, 30 July 2002, at 5:01 p.m.

"I have reason to expect an addition to our family party today," announced Mr Bennet. "A gentleman and a stranger."

"Oh it is Mr Bingley!" cried Mrs Bennet, going off into transports. "Jane, you sly thing!"

"I said it is a stranger," said Mr Bennet. "I'm sure you don't count Mr Bingley as a stranger, my dear."

"Oh, no indeed. Then who could it possibly be."

"It is my cousin, Mr Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."

"Oh that horrid, horrid man!"

"Then you are acquainted with him?" asked Mr Bennet with a wink at the girls.

"You know very well that I am not!" cried Mrs Bennet. "I quite detest the man. What gives him the right to take our house from us when you are . . . gone?"

"Mama, you know all about the entail," said Jane.

"Entail! It is outrageous to take someone's house just because of an entail! Oh why you did not do something about this I do not know, Mr Bennet. Think of the girls! Think of my poor nerves! How could you allow there to be an entail?"

"I am afraid I did all I could about the entail, and unfortunately the girls were the result, not that I blame them in the least," said Mr Bennet.

"And now we have to entertain this odious man? It is beyond reason. How do you expect me to bear it?"

"I think you are quite right that it is beyond reason, that was the exact impression I received upon reading his letter, however, I believe he plans to make amends for his thoughtless behaviour in being my heir."

"And so he should! That is very good of him. What amends does he speak of?"

"His allusions lead me to believe it involves one of our daughters."

Mrs Bennet was wise to anything that spelt marriage and was soon raving about what a wonderful gentleman Mr Collins was, and making plans as to which daughter may be got rid of so expeditiously. She must tell him of Jane at the outset. In her mind Jane was as good as married already. Next in line was Lizzie, although . . .

Mr Collins proved to be a large young man with a formal, ponderous, ingratiating air, who could not open his mouth but to show what an obsequious fool he was. Mr Bennet looked on indulgently, and when he had got his fill, retired safely to his library. The girls were not so pleased with him, nor so lucky in having a bolt hole. The most frightening thing was the possibility of him intending to have one of them. They were all vying for the spot furthest from him. Mrs Bennet was in raptures and couldn't hear enough about Lady Catherine, his patroness, and the chimney pieces, staircases, and numerous windows of her stately home.

The next morning he walked with the girls to Meryton, and attached himself to Lizzie, much to her extreme annoyance.

"Cousin Elizabeth, did I tell you of Lady Catherine's goodness in attending to every detail of my trip?" he asked, bending close to her and smiling ingratiatingly.

Lizzie was almost asphyxiated by the smell that emanated from his person; a bodily sourness mixed with the floral sweetness of his hair oil which he had applied liberally to his stringy locks. She backed away and said, "Yes, I believe you have told me of it more than once already."

"She is so attentive to all my needs, to the needs of all the parish, in fact," he continued, not heeding her answer, "she advised me of the best inn to hire my carriage, how much to tip the post boys, and where I should find the most well prepared meals, and I must say that the meal at the inn she recommended was just as she had promised, the cuts of meat tender and succulent, the puddings rich and sweet. There is nothing that is beyond the good Lady's notice. And did I tell you that only a lane separates my humble abode from her glorious estate of Rosings . . . "

And so he continued the whole way to Meryton, as Lizzie let her mind wander, trying not to dwell on what his singling her out must mean, but instead thinking of someone she would much rather be spending her time with.

In Meryton they met with Mr Denny, an officer of the militia, who was accompanied by a handsome young gentleman they had never seen before. He was introduced to them as a Mr Wickham, just newly joined up, and not yet in his regimentals. His golden curls, clear blue eyes, and warm, open countenance recommended him to everyone, and he was very gallant by all the ladies. Kitty was giggling and Lydia practically swooning imagining the picture he would make in his red coat. Upon being introduced to Lizzie, he took her hand and smiled directly into her face, telling her that meeting her was indeed a pleasure and he looked forward to nothing more than getting to know her better. Mr Collins hovered proprietarily beside her trying to show that the territory had already been staked out by himself, but his pretensions were ignored as Wickham made to fall in with the company at Lizzie's side.
At that moment Mr Bingley and Darcy rode up and reigned in to greet the ladies. Darcy was about to speak to Elizabeth, when he noticed the man at her side. He stopped his approach, and his whole demeanour changed; his face paled and set in frigid lines. For his part, Mr Wickham turned red, and then after a few moments touched his hat towards Darcy with a smirk and a little bow. Darcy bearly deigned to return the salutation with an almost imperceptible nod in Wickham's direction and a look of the coldest hauteur that Lizzie had ever seen. He said nothing and was soon hurrying Bingley off about their business.

That evening the Bennet girls dined at their aunt Phillips', and Mr Wickham had been included with the other officers in the invitation to join them for the evening. He was universally pleasing, and charming to all the ladies. As the evening wore on, he managed to extricate himself from Lydia and Kitty's clutches, and sat beside Lizzie in a quieter corner of the room.

"I have been wanting all evening to find just such a situation for myself," he said in soft tones accompanied by a most devastating smile.

Lizzie was not sure how to respond to such familiarity on so short an acquaintance, so she merely smiled at him and said, "You are welcome to join me."

"How is it that in the country the young ladies are so remarkably pretty?" asked Wickham with a meaning glance.
Lizzie saw fit not to answer.

"And the prettiest of them is right here by my side," he continued.

Lizzie blushed and wished that he would stop.

With so little encouragement, Wickham decided on another tactic. "This afternoon, when I met you, I also chanced to meet two of your neighbours, a Mr Bingley and a Mr Darcy. I have been discovering that the general opinion of Mr Darcy is that he is a very proud and disagreeable man, although Mr Bingley is highly regarded."

"That is the general case, though not everyone feels the same way about Mr Darcy," said Lizzie shortly.

"Is that so? Mr Bingley I am unacquainted with, but I am looking forward to meeting such a well-liked fellow. I have yet to hear a good report on Mr Darcy. Did you know I am extremely well acquainted with him? You may well show your surprise, for I am sure you noted his reception of me."

Lizzie nodded her head, but said nothing to encourage the conversation, though despite herself she was intrigued, and despite the impropriety of gossiping she wanted to hear more. She had wondered at that greeting all day, and had regretted Darcy's attitude after the meeting. He had not so much glanced at her again. She had felt chagrined by his treatment of her, but it was all for the best, she needed to be discouraged where he was concerned. She had to be realistic.

"Miss Bennet, are you attending at all to what I am saying? You look full twenty miles away. That is a little crushing to my ego, you know," said Wickham with a smile that belied his words.

"I am so sorry," said Lizzie colouring, "please continue."

"Have you heard of Pemberley, Mr Darcy's estate? Well, I grew up there. My father was the late Mr Darcy's steward, and I was his godson. Darcy and I were brought up as brothers. The late Mr Darcy was a very good man and he loved me dearly, which caused Darcy to be very jealous of me. He is disgusted at my low beginnings and does not recognise me in society. It is his damnable pride. He feels that anyone with less than him is below him and of no consequence."

"How very bad for you," said Lizzie. "But I have seen him to be a very kind friend and know him to be a caring brother."

"When he wants to he can behave in a most becoming manner, I believe. But he has a disgust for me that I have done nothing to deserve, so it is hard for me to look on him favourably. His sister is another such, proud and disdainful. She had liked me as a small child, but he turned her against me as well. You cannot wonder at me not liking him."

Lizzie looked at Wickham wondering why he was talking so freely to her. What could he hope to gain by speaking ill of Mr Darcy and his sister? Surely he was hurt by the rejection of friendship, and it was bad that Mr Darcy had treated him unfairly, but she had seen something of Mr Darcy and could not believe him to be so very bad. "As Mr Darcy is not here to defend his behaviour to you, I do not think we should talk of him any longer," she managed.

"No, I can think of so many more subjects I would rather talk about with you than Darcy's cruelty to me, not honouring his father's last wishes and blighting all the hopes that I had for a promising future in the church. We will not go into that at all." Wickham smiled at her again and held her eyes with his own blue ones. "On occasions such as this the talk should be bright and sparkling, with much wit and laughter, as I fall irrevocably and most willingly under your power."

Lizzie was so shocked she could not speak. The nerve of the man saying that he will talk no more of Mr Darcy, and at the same time making an accusation that Mr Darcy had gone against his father's last wishes, which if true would mean that he lacked all common decency and had a base and cruel character. It must be the grossest falsehood! From what she had seen of Mr Darcy she believed him to be decent, honest, and just. He was proud, but he was not unkind. And then, to make matters worse, Mr Wickham had become very forward in his attentions to her. What unbelievable conceit the man had! She knew not what she said to him, or if she had responded at all, but he seemed to think it encouragement enough and leant even closer, speaking in very gentle and affected tones:

"My dear Miss Bennet, I am lost to your charms . . ."

"Cousin Elizabeth, Cousin Elizabeth, at last I have found you. What are you doing hiding in this corner? Oh, Mr Wickham I believe, I did not see you at first. What is all this? I do not think it is at all appropriate for you to be ensconced like this in such a private manner."

Lizzie had never thought she would be glad to see Mr Collins in all her life, but she felt so relieved to be accosted by him that she turned to him with a welcoming smile. "Mr Collins, do sit down."

"I must excuse myself, " said Mr Wickham. "I had promised your sisters that I would join the game of commerce." He gave Lizzie a long and smouldering glance and made his way over to the game already in progress to be greeted by squeals of delight by her two youngest sisters.

Lizzie was happy to see him go and would have been happier still to know that she would never be in his company again. Her cousin was complaining about her sisters' total want of propriety, and launched into a lecture about decorum and morality, which Lizzie let flow over her as she contemplated the spiteful comments of their new acquaintance. She could not believe that Mr Darcy could possible be so unprincipled and unjust. There must be some reason for his treatment of Wickham that had not been revealed, for the fact that there was animosity between the two was more than evident. The fault must be Wickham's. He had already proved himself to be of very poor character by his forward behaviour and unwarranted disclosures.

"Cousin Elizabeth," said Mr Collins, "it has just come to my attention that there is to be a ball held at the home of a friend of yours, Mr Bingley, the gentleman that stopped so graciously in the street this morning so that he could be introduced to me. Would you do the great honour to dance the first two with your humble cousin?"

"Pardon me?" asked Lizzie as she came out of her reverie.

"I was requesting the honour of leading you out for the first two dances at Mr Bingley's ball."

"Oh, I . . . well."

"You are not already engaged are you? Say that you are free."

"I have not as yet been asked by anyone," said Lizzie, seeing her hopes of escaping the invitation quickly diminishing.

"It is all settled then. My dear Elizabeth you have made me the happiest of men. Dancing at a ball of this nature, among such elegant company, is beyond reproach and quite the sort of condescension to society as Lady Catherine expects of me."

"Then I am sure that she will be pleased to hear that you have complied with her wishes."

"I will not hesitate to tell her. And that I had the most gracious partner in my lovely cousin," he smiled at her in what he supposed was a winsome manner, but would have caused her to explode with laughter if she was not as near tears as she had become upon finding herself in the same predicament as she had just escaped a moment ago, without even the benefit of a handsome face gazing at her.

Part the Fifth

Posted on Friday, 2 August 2002, at 11:37 p.m.

Mr Collins did not leave Elizabeth's side from the moment they arrived at the ball. It wasn't possible for any other gentleman to approach her to claim her for any of the subsequent dances, and she was led out to the floor with none of the other dances spoken for, and no defence if he wished to reserve another two. Lizzie's displeasure at having to stand up with her cousin was matched only by her embarrassment at his dancing. He was continually out of step and moving in the wrong direction, begging people's pardon, and pausing to bow at his host, Sir William, and any other personage he thought worthy of his notice. Lizzie blushed and blushed again. She looked across the room and caught Mr Darcy's eyes on her, a smirk on his lips.
Caroline came up to him and said something laughingly in his ear. He stiffened and turned his gaze away. Why did she even care what he thought?-she asked herself, mortified by the idea of what he must be thinking of the spectacle she and Mr Collins were making.

Between the sets, Mr Collins, who had been silent throughout the dancing so that he could concentrate on getting his moves all wrong, leaned close to Lizzie and asked:

"Who is that most distinguished gentleman standing against the wall? I believe we met him in the street the other day but I was not introduced. He appears to me to be a personage of great importance. I do not wish to be deficient in showing him deference."

"Mr Collins, that is Mr Darcy and I would beg you not to disturb him."

"Did you say Mr Darcy? Why this is wonderful indeed! I should have guessed; he has the family look, that proud bearing and fine figure. He is Lady Catherine's Nephew. I must go and pay him my respects without delay!"

"No! Please don't," cried Lizzie. "The music is about to start. There is no time."

"But Cousin Elizabeth, I have been here this half hour and have neglected to do him the honour of debasing myself before him. I can't neglect Lady Catherine's closest relatives. It is my duty . . ."

"The dance is resuming," said Lizzie in consternation. "Please come. We must join our set."

"Mr Collins was left with no choice but to bow very low in Mr Darcy's direction two or three times as he made his way back onto the floor. Lizzie did not look at Mr Darcy, not wanting to see the expression of total disdain that she was sure must overspread his countenance at such a display. She spent the remainder of the dance studiously looking in every direction but the one she knew Mr Darcy to be in, and as he did not move the whole time she did not accidentally see him. If she had she may have noticed the sympathetic look in his eyes as they lingered on her.

After the dance was over, Lizzie made a quick excuse of needing refreshment to forestall Mr Collins who was about to ask for another two dances. Lizzie was on her way to the punch table when she noticed Mr Darcy walking purposefully in her direction. Was he coming towards her? Was he going to ask her to dance? In the two weeks since the stay at Netherfield she had not seen him at all and her need to hear his voice and meet his eyes was stronger than her desire to avoid him. Had she remembered correctly the intense green of his eyes, or had her imagination heightened their quality? A group of people obstructed Darcy's way and as he attempted to politely make his way around them, Lizzie was thus accosted from behind:

"My dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet, here you are. I am come to claim my dance."

Lizzie turned around and beheld Mr Wickham smiling smoothly at her. "Whatever can you mean?" she asked in surprise, as her mind could only think, 'please, please go away.'

"Do not be coy with me," teased Wickham, laughing down at her. "You are too cruel, you know you promised to dance with me."

"I did no such thing!"

"I am offended! I am totally cast down. To be so soon forgotten when I thought I had made such an impression," sighed Wickham. "But a promise is a promise and I will hold you to it." He took Lizzie's hand and started to lead her to the floor.

Lizzie could not but comply. To create a scene would be improper. She looked over to where Mr Darcy stood hoping to show him that she was not acting in accordance to her own wishes. He was frozen in place, his face suffused with anger, his lips compressed, his eyes like ice. He turned swiftly on his heel and walked away. Lizzie wanted only to run to him, to tell him that she had no wish to dance with Wickham, that she only wanted to dance with him. She stared after him with a stricken look in her eyes.

Wickham observed the little scene and did not miss its meaning. It was easy enough to read the disappointment on Miss Elizabeth's face, and he was very much acquainted with Darcy's reaction. It was one that he had seen before. The fact that he had caused it again cheered him considerably. It made his little flirtation more enjoyable to know that not only would he enjoy the fire of Elizabeth's eyes, he would also be causing Darcy pain.

"My dear Miss Elizabeth," he said smoothly. "It grieves me to see how reluctant you are to dance with me. Have I offended you in any way? If I have I am most truly sorry."

"Sir, you have brought me to this floor against my will!"

"I like your spirit. Do protest some more!"

Lizzie refused to look at him. "If we are to dance then let it be. I will not stand here and become a spectacle." She attempted to pull herself together and act complaisant. She gave him a small perfunctory smile as the set started. If he wants sparks from me he shall not get them.

"Ah a smile, or almost a smile. It warms my heart."

Wickham danced well, smiling and flirting, while Lizzie strove for composure as her eyes searched the room for Mr Darcy. She answered his sallies absently and sometimes not at all. The only thing she could think about was Mr Darcy. Did he think she had chosen Wickham over him? She had seen his face. How he must despise the man and her for dancing with him. There must be much more to the story than what Wickham had told her for a reaction such as that.

"Miss Elizabeth, does your mind always go off like that, or is it just my conversation that puts you in a trance?"

"I'm sorry, I was listening to the music."

"Of course," Wickham whispered. "The music is superlative. But I think there is something else. On the chances of raising your ire once again, I must bring up a subject I know you are unwilling to discuss with me."

"I do not understand you sir."

"Come now. We both know I am referring to Mr Darcy. No, do not take umbrage yet, I am not about to lay his indiscretions towards me at your feet again. For some reason you delight in defending him. Take care where you put your feelings. Mr Darcy is deceiving you and all of your neighbours."

"From what I have seen of Mr Darcy I would venture to say he abhors deceit!" said Lizzie hotly despite her intent of keeping her composure.

"Miss Elizabeth, your ready defence of him does you honour, but I ask you, does he deserve it? He is acting under false pretences. By all appearances he is available, a free man, a target for every mother in the neighbourhood who has daughters to marry. But what he has told nobody is that he is betrothed, and has been for years, to his cousin Anne de Bourgh, Lady Catherine's daughter and heir to all her vast fortune and estate."

"He has not told anyone that he is not betrothed," retorted Elizabeth as her heart plummeted. All she could think was that Darcy was engaged and he was more lost to her than he ever had been.

"But everyone assumes him to be unattached, and he has corrected no-one," said Wickham smoothly. "If you do not believe me, ask your cousin. He is Lady Catherine's most obedient servant and must know all the particulars of the engagement because it is one of her favourite subjects. I am only telling you this to save you some hurt, but you must realise that even if he were not engaged, he would not consider someone so far below him. Now you and I, we are perfectly suited. Can you not think of me instead?"

"Sir! You forget yourself! How can you speak to me thus! I do not think of Mr Darcy other than as an acquaintance whom I respect, and you, why you are nothing to me at all!"

"Ah, she protests so delightfully!"

While this conversation was taking place, Darcy returned to the ballroom, a trifle more composed, and standing by a pillar, watched the dance contemplating the one couple that interested him. Wickham was all smiles and easy charm, but Miss Elizabeth did not appear to be in the best of spirits. Was she impervious to him? Had she not preferred to dance with him after all? His anger was not abated, but his heart quickened. Elizabeth knew nothing of Wickham, and yet she did not seem to be responding to his blandishments, and Darcy knew very well how capable Wickham was at wooing any lady he wanted.

"What a terribly insipid affair, and to think I am the unfortunate hostess," said Caroline in his ear.

"Must you always sneak up on me like that?"

"Darcy, my dear, I have been in plain view these five minutes. What has got your attention so?" Caroline looked out on the floor and stiffened and then looked back to Darcy and said, silkily, "Ah, Miss Eliza is dancing with your late steward's son. It is insufferable the low company we find ourselves in. I agree with you completely."

"I have said nothing," said Darcy.

"But your look tells all. So little of taste and distinction in this room. You used to almost admire Miss Eliza Bennet, but I imagine your opinion has been quite changed by her obvious lack of good breeding."

"I see nothing to indicate a lack of good breeding, on the contrary I think she is showing an excess of civility."

"But her choice of dance partner shows an indelicate liking for low company."

"I was under the impression that ladies did not do the asking."

"Yes, that is unfortunately true," said Caroline. Ladies indeed were not permitted to ask, and as she was not able to ask him, why oh why would he not ask her? "But ladies do enjoy dancing so very much. Don't you ever feel the urge to dance?"

"As you know I am not at all partial to dancing."

"At a country ball such as this, I am of the same mind as you. Almost nobody worthy to stand up with. But at a London soirée I dearly love to dance. Here I would only deign to dance with one of our own party."

"Mr Hurst is occupied at the moment," said Darcy slyly.

"You are quite abominable!" said Caroline, and she swept away in grand style. She would dance with one of the higher ranking officers. That would show him.

Finally Lizzie's dance with Wickham was over. She had just got through the two worst dance partners of her life. Lizzie was not made for ill humour; she had suffered through the worst, the evening could only get better now. She looked about and saw Darcy talking with Sir William. Well it was too much to hope that he would still be willing to dance with her, if indeed he really was coming over to ask her before. She tried not to think about Darcy or his engagement, and, accepting the next gentleman who asked her, lost herself in the delight of the dance and the music. She went down to dinner on Denny's arm, and her next dance after that she promised to Chamberlain. When Denny came to claim Charlotte, she looked for Chamberlain but instead found herself being led to the floor by Wickham. She backed away from him hurriedly.

"I am promised to Chamberlain."

"The poor fellow sends his regrets, Miss Elizabeth. He is unable to indulge you at this time and has asked that I take his place."

"You must know that I have no wish to stand up with you again!"

"Even my vain heart cannot deny that fact," said Wickham with mock sadness, "but we must honour my dear friend's last wishes."

With that he whisked her to the floor as the music started. There was nothing that Lizzie could do if she did not want to look the fool. She gave Wickham a livid gaze, but he only laughed and teased her. She determined not to talk to him throughout the dance, and he let it be, contenting himself with uttering sweet little reproaches at her silence whenever the dance brought them together. He had gained his object and that was enough for him. When Darcy saw that he was dancing with Elizabeth for a second time, he was sure to be angered yet again. And his sense of propriety would keep him from responding in public. His shyness would keep him from Elizabeth's side, and his sense of justice would prevent him from exposing Wickham to Elizabeth and the rest of the world. Wickham was glad that he had decided to come to the ball after all. There was only room for one of them in this neighbourhood, and if anyone were to back down, it would have to be Darcy. He would be gone soon enough.

After the dance, Wickham gave Lizzie a deep bow over her hand and a wicked parting grin. It hadn't been quite so bad this time, she thought. At least he had not talked of Mr Darcy again. Just as Charlotte was about to join Lizzie, Caroline came up to her and said:

"I have a word of warning for you, as a friend. It is about your favourite, Mr Wickham."

"My favourite? He is nothing to me."

"Oh really? You have danced with him twice and you two have become quite an item. Everyone is talking of it! But I will have you know that Mr Wickham is not a gentleman. He is only the son of the late Mr Darcy's steward."

"He told me of this himself."

"I see we do not all share the same discriminating tastes!" said Caroline, and she walked off feeling quite pleased with herself.

"Oh that she would trip and fall!" exclaimed Lizzie to Charlotte. "That girl needs to be put in her place."

"Don't let her spite bother you," said Charlotte. "I imagine it is pure jealousy that drives her."

"What is she to be jealous of?"

"Well, if you look who is coming towards you, I think you will understand it as I do," said Charlotte, leaving Lizzie to the approaching Mr Darcy.

Lizzie turned and found herself being intensely regarded by Mr Darcy. It is difficult to say which emotion reigned on his face. Was it anger, pride, or fear? He held himself very stiffly and said with utmost formality, "Will you do me the honour, Miss Elizabeth, of dancing with me?" It seemed he was capable of no other form of invitation than that.

Lizzie did not know if dancing with him was wise, or even if it would be pleasant given his current mood, but she desired it beyond anything so she could not help but to say yes and to take his hand. His features softened a little at her acceptance, and she realised that he had been completely unsure of his reception. They danced for some time in silence, until finally Lizzie ventured:

"We should have some sort of conversation as we dance, sir, be it music or books, we must find something to discus."

"So do you talk then as a rule while you dance?"

"It does make it easier to pass the time."

"Well I cannot think of talking of books on the dance floor."

"So it will have to be music," said Lizzie with a smile.

Darcy looked at her, was about to speak, and then thought better of it.

"Does music not appeal to you either?" asked Lizzie. "If you had rather, we need not talk at all." Why has he asked me to dance if he is only going to be silent? She stole a look at him and found that his eyes were on her with a speculative look in them. He hesitated and then blurted out:

"The gentleman you just danced with and danced with before might have been importuning you with falsehoods concerning myself. I do not want to go into details of his character, I just want to inform you that he is not to be trusted. He is very able to make a good impression when he wishes."

"He did attempt to discredit you but rest assured that I gave no credence to his assertions," said Lizzie, glad of this opportunity to let Mr Darcy know that she had not been taken in by Mr Wickham. "I had been most unwilling to dance with him."

"And that is why you danced with him twice?" Darcy could not help himself. When he had seen Wickham lead Elizabeth out for a second time he had suffered a pang. He had thought she had more good sense than that, in fact it was the strong feelings that the event had created that had given him the courage to approach her and ask for this dance.

Lizzie heard all the reproach in his voice. "He tricked me into dancing with him both times. If I had the choice I would not have danced with him at all, but I did not want to create a scene and he was very insistent."

"He is very handsome," said Darcy.

"Oh, do you think so?" said Lizzie in as offhand manner as she could manage.

Darcy felt a certain elation flow through him at those words. She did not think Wickham handsome, she had not wanted to dance with him, and she mistrusted him; she had much more sense than he had credited her with. They danced in silence for a little longer, but it was a much more comfortable and companionable silence than the earlier one. Lizzie was not quite as content. There was still one matter that was pressing on her mind, and if he was able to bring up painful subjects, she might as well too. It was better for it to be out in the open.

"There is one thing that Mr Wickham said to me that I was wondering about," she said. Was it too forward to ask such a question? Possibly, but she needed to know the answer, and the best person to ask was the person involved.

Darcy stiffened perceptibly. "I don't know that I want to discuss it. I do not like to bandy my private affairs around as he does."

"It would go no further than me," said Lizzie. Now I have really done it. I should have just let the matter lie.

"You have misunderstood . . . that is not what I meant at all," said Darcy in some consternation. "Ask your question, after all, he is the one who began this and not I. You have a right to some explanation."

"It is not about the trouble that exists between the two of you," said Lizzie quickly. "It is something that he told me, and perhaps I am being impertinent, but I should like to know. He has said that you are engaged to be married to your cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh." As soon as the words were out, Lizzie regretted them. What would he think of her? That she was interested in marriage? She bit her lip and coloured.

For his part, Darcy was relieved by the question. Why did he jump to the conclusion that it would have concerned Georgianna? Elizabeth was too good to pry into his private affairs. "Well, yes but it is not really an engagement, and it means nothing to me."

Lizzie was shocked. "It means nothing to you? So you go around acting like you are not engaged, and ladies and their mamas are having hopes in you, and it all means nothing to you?"

"What are you talking about? I have never shown a young lady overmuch attention. I have not lead anyone on!"

"I am sorry, that is not precisely what I meant. Please disregard what I said. I was not thinking clearly," said Lizzie, afraid even to look at him.

"Let me tell you this," said Darcy in icy tones. "The betrothal is an arrangement made years ago between my mother and my aunt. I was never a part of it and I have never agreed to it."

"And how does your cousin regard it?" asked Lizzie, almost in tears.

Darcy did not reply. He did not know how it had happened but everything had suddenly become incredibly muddled. He was upset and Elizabeth was upset and he saw no way to return to the comfortable feeling before she had broached her question. What did it matter about the betrothal? Why did she think he should honour it? He had no interest in marrying his cousin, but he had never considered what Anne thought of the whole business. When next in Kent he would talk to her about it, if Lady Catherine would give him the opportunity.

He looked at Lizzie and saw that she was struggling for composure. He had no idea what he should say to her, or why she had become so upset. The dance was ending. As he led her off the floor he thanked her for the dance and tried to catch her eye, to smile at her, but she kept her eyes downcast. He stood beside her, unsure of what to do, trying to think of some way to console her, and uncertain if she really wanted him to stay. In the end he turned and walked away. On his way across the floor he passed Caroline.

"Why Mr Darcy! I saw you on the dance floor. How was it that you were dancing when you despise it so?"

He looked at her and did not answer, and continued on to the card room.

She looked after him. He had danced with that Eliza Bennet, but obviously all had not gone well. The girl was such a fool to prefer a steward's son to Darcy, but so much the better. He would soon come to his senses, and when he did, she would be there for him. She smiled to herself and turned to the young officer who was addressing her. Would she like to dance? Why yes, delighted to be sure!

Lizzie finally raised her head and watched Darcy go. What he thought of her she had no idea, but she wouldn't be surprised if that was the last time he would ask her to dance. There was no joy left in the evening for Lizzie. She got to watch her family expose itself in the worst possible way. Lydia and Kitty were loud and boisterous. Mary insisted on playing and singing much longer than was expected, and when her father finally asked her to play no more, it only increased the embarrassment. And her mother could not stop talking loudly about Jane and Bingley as if they were engaged already. Lizzie noticed Mr Darcy sitting quite close to her mother at one time, and was sure he had heard her every word. The ball couldn't end too soon for her, but their mother had managed that their carriage was the last one to draw up to the door. Caroline and Louisa were hiding yawns, and Darcy was looking more distant and bored than she had ever remembered seeing him.

Darcy watched Elizabeth go with mixed feelings. He regretted that he had not spoken to her again, to come to some kind of understanding about the earlier conversation, but he also thought he could not look at her any longer and stand the tumult of feelings that seeing her raised within him. He also had to talk to Bingley privately about something very important. As soon as the guests were gone, he asked Bingley to join him in the library.

"Bingley," he said as the door closed behind him, "just what are your intentions toward Miss Jane Bennet?"

"Darcy, what is this? Why so serious? I have just had a glorious evening dancing with an angel. Is she not the most beautiful woman you have beheld?"

"Yes, but if you paid attention to anything else but her smiles, you would have heard the rest of the company planning your wedding."

"My wedding?"

"Apparently everything is certain but the date."

"What? I am not contemplating matrimony," said Bingley, somewhat shocked.

"Then you had better start contemplating it."

"Do not get me wrong, Darcy. I am out of my mind over her. I love her madly. There is no-one else in the world for me. But marriage? I am not ready for that."

"Then I suggest you take some time to think about it," said Darcy. "If you continue the way you are going, you will have no other choice but to marry her. Your attentions are too pronounced."

"Darcy, what shall I do?"

"Go away for a few weeks. See how you feel about it. I do not suggest that you marry unless you are certain. If you truly are in love with Miss Bennet, then marry her. She is a sweet girl and will make you a good wife, and her connections cannot worry you."

"Her connections? Whatever have they to do with it?"

"In your case, nothing at all."

"I think I will do just as you say. Do you mind leaving quite so soon? I know I promised you a few months of sport and there are still birds to be had."

"I think I am in as much need to leave as you," said Darcy. He turned and looked into the fire, wondering what it would take to remove the vision of Elizabeth's face that was imprinted on his mind's eye. If only she had not such connections. Never mind that, if only she had offered him just a little encouragement.

Part the Sixth

Posted on Monday, 5 August 2002, at 8:00 p.m.

"Oh my!" said Jane as the letter shook in her quavering hand.

"What is it? What does Caroline say?" asked Mrs Bennet. "Oh do give me the letter that I may read it."

Jane passed the letter to her mother and silently left the breakfast parlour.

"Well that is most unfortunate. The whole party is leaving for London today. But never mind, Bingley shall return soon enough to declare himself to our Jane."

"Let me see," said Lizzie, taking the letter from her mother and perusing it rapidly. "She says it is uncertain when they will return. She looks forward to seeing a lot of Miss Darcy who she hopes one day to be able to call sister! Spiteful girl. Is she referring to her hopes for Mr Darcy or is she giving some hint of Bingley's future plans? And she goes on to say that they will remain in London for the season. This does not look encouraging at all."

"My dear, she must mean Mr Darcy and herself, because anyone can plainly see Bingley is in love with dear Jane. And what does it matter that she plans to remain in London? It is only Bingley that need return after all. His sisters and that odious Mr Darcy may stay in London forever for all I care."

"I think she wants Jane to believe that Bingley plans to marry Miss Darcy. She does not think Jane good enough for her brother, and is trying to separate them!"

"Lizzie! How can you speak such nonsense? Caroline is a lovely young lady and your sister's friend."

"I think not, Mama. I must go to Jane," said Lizzie, leaving the letter on the table. 'Oh, Jane, Jane, how you must be feeling!' She ran upstairs to her bedchamber and found Jane lying on the counterpane, her tears soaking the pillow. She sat beside her on the bed.

"He will not be able to stay away from you," said Lizzie.

"But I had no idea he was going. He said nothing of it to me," she sobbed. "And Caroline has always tried to warn me how close he is to Miss Darcy. While he was here it did not seem possible . . . but now I know there is no hope for me."

Lizzie held her sister close and stroked her hair. "You can depend on it; it is all Caroline's doing. He is not in love with Miss Darcy. He loves you. She does not think our family good enough for her brother to connect himself to, but she will not be able to influence him against you. He will come back to you."

"Caroline would never do that! She is my friend," said Jane through her tears. "You should not think so ill of her."

"I can't help but think ill of her," said Lizzie. "She is a mean spirited girl who thinks of nothing but her own prestige."

"Lizzie!"

"Oh Jane, I am sorry, but I can see no good in her."

They sat on the bed and talked for some time, until Lizzie had Jane calm and somewhat reassured. It was only then that Lizzie allowed herself to indulge in her own feelings of loss. She had acted so foolishly when she was dancing with Mr Darcy, and now he was gone. She had misunderstood him at first when he said that his engagement did not mean anything to him, and she had become angry for no reason. She had thought him disrespecting an alliance of convenience that he was committed to. How could she have believed that he would act dishonourably? Oh that she had never listened to Wickham! He had poisoned her mind. And when Mr Darcy had clearly explained the betrothal she had been too mortified to even look at him. What had he thought of her, knowing that she could think him capable of such deceit? He must think her a petty and foolish person. If only she had been able to look at him and explain herself, but then, how could she have done so without exposing her feelings to him? That would have been worse than anything. 'Oh! How could I have let myself fall in love with the man? What a hopeless, hopeless situation, but how could I help myself? I have never seen a man to compare to him.'

Lizzie sighed, and returned with Jane to the parlour, and the mending basket. A morning of torture was evidently in store for them as their cousin had undertaken to read to them from Fordyce's sermons as they stitched. His reading was ponderous and dull. Lizzie felt sorry for all his parishoners who had to listen to his flat nasal tones every Sunday.

Jane left the room on an errand for her mother, and Kitty and Lydia went out in the garden to escape the sermons in a fit of giggles. Mary was listening in rapt attention until Mr Collins finally put the book down and looked about the room.

"Where have all my young cousins gone? That was a passage I thought was of particular importance for all you girls to hear, especially the youngest two."

"It was most edifying," said Mary. "I did so enjoy the solemnity with which you read."

"I feel the tone to be of utmost importance. Lady Catherine is quite of the same opinion," said Mr Collins. "Cousin Elizabeth, I trust you were well pleased with my choice of sermon?"

"It was very . . . nice," was all she could manage, not having heard anything beyond the drone of his voice as she had concentrated all her attention on her needlework.

"Oh Mary," said Mrs Bennet, "I have just this moment recollected that I need to discuss an important matter with you."

"What matter Mama?"

"Come with me and I shall tell you. I am sure your cousin will excuse us."

Mr Collins bowed in acquiescence, and Lizzie looked up startled at her mother as she realised they were being purposefully left alone in the room.

"But Mama . . ."

"We will be back shortly, Elizabeth," said her mother with a wink and a smile.

Lizzie knew not what to do, so she applied herself to her needlework.

Mr Collins came up to her and bent upon his knee in front of her. "Cousin Elizabeth, you cannot doubt what I am about to say. From almost the first moment I was smitten by your beauty and your goodness. Lady Catherine has instructed me to find a good wife, not too high born but of a gentility and elegance appropriate to my situation in life. I think you are just the sort of woman that she would wish for me to marry. My love for you is, of course, unparalleled, and I am looking forward to a comfortable future with you in connubial bliss if you would do me the supreme honour of accepting my most humble but eminently worthy hand, and join with me in the blessings of the holy state of matrimony."

"Mr Collins, I thank you for your kind offer, but I must refuse."

"Cousin Elisabeth, you are the sweetest thing," he said, reaching for her hand. "You must see how desperately I desire you. Your very feminine demurral is understandable, but you must see all the advantages to your family this match would bring. You would secure the future of your mother and your sisters, and keep Longbourn as your home when your father is no longer in this life. You would be very pleased with the snug parsonage at Hunsford which Lady Catherine has helped me to organise into a very comfortable home for a wife and family, and, what I should perhaps have mentioned first, the benefit of being so close to Rosings, and enjoying the elevated society of that establishment as often as Lady Catherine most obligingly condescends to invite us."

"Mr Collins, indeed, I do not wish to marry you."

"But Cousin Elizabeth, your mother has promised that you would accept me!"

"As she did not consult me before making that promise, I feel no responsibility to stand by it," said Lizzie. "I have no intention of ever accepting you. Can you not understand that when I say no, I mean no."

"Cousin Elizabeth, do not deny me!" cried my Collins, pulling her into his arms.

"Unhand me at once!" cried Elizabeth. "Such behaviour is unbefitting to your situation."

"In matters of love, parsons have the same feelings as other men," he whispered in her ear. "Oh, dearest Elizabeth, say that you are mine."

Elizabeth found the strength to push him away, and stood in the centre of the room, struggling with her breathing, her expression livid. "Do not ever touch me again or talk to me in this manner again!" she cried and rushed from the room, almost knocking down her mother who had been listening at the door.

"Mrs Bennet, it has not gone at all well," cried Mr Collins.

"Elizabeth is a most disobliging and contrary girl, but I shall get her to marry you sir, you mark my words!"

"I do not know that I want to marry her if she is disobliging. Lady Catherine was very specific in requesting that I find a wife who is biddable and good natured."

"Lizzie is a very biddable girl as a rule, Mr Collins. I do not know a more biddable girl once she has been brought to see reason."

"I really think I must reconsider, ma'am."

"Then what think you of Mary? She is entirely biddable, and has such a pious, moralising nature. She would do for you perfectly. I do not know why we did not think of her first. She is most ideal!"

"I do not think we would suit. Lady Catherine expressly said to find a pretty girl, and I do think Mary is a little more plain than what she had in mind."

"There are also Kitty and Lydia. Either one would make you a very pretty wife. We need not despair."

"I am afraid their unprincipled and immature behaviour is not what Lady Catherine would like for my wife. I cannot have my wife giggling through my sermons, in front of all my parishioners."

"Mr Collins, your good example would teach whichever one of them you chose, and I would put a word in myself."

"I am sorry, ma'am, but my mind is made up. I have done what is possible to make up for my indiscretion in being the heir to Longbourn, and as I can't have Elizabeth, and am beginning to think that she would not have made me the suitable wife I desire, then I must look elsewhere for a bride."

Mrs Bennet's anger against Elizabeth was fervent, but there was no changing the mind of either, and no support forthcoming from Mr Bennet. Mr Collins spent most of the remainder of his visit away from the house, and before he was to leave, he was able to announce that he had been successful in claiming the hand of Charlotte Lucas. Mrs Bennet was beside herself and referred to Charlotte as a viper she had cherished to her bosom, and the rest of the Lucases as traitorous upstarts who's only thought was to deprive her of her home. Lizzie was disappointed in her friend that she should make such a poor choice for a husband, and marry where she did not love, but Charlotte had a practical nature and felt that it was the best offer she could expect to receive.

At a library window in his London town house, Darcy stood and gazed down on the moonlit street. Three weeks in London and he could not get her out of his mind. There was no-one to compare with Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the whole city. Her dark eyes, her soft smile, the turn of her countenance when she was about to utter a witty rejoinder, the expression he sometimes caught on her face when he turned to find her appraising him, and the way he felt when he was close to her. These things would not leave him, whether alone or at some social function, they were constantly tugging at his mind, causing him to be more distant than before. That dance with her that had led to so much confusion, played over and over in his brain. What was it he had said or done to cause her such distress? They had seemed to reach a state of comfortable equilibrium, and then it had all fallen apart. It had seemed for a brief moment that she was happy to be with him. His green eyes warmed at the idea, a smile played on his lips, and in the puddles of moonlight on the street below, he imagined her standing, looking up to his window, and smiling her soft smile.

Part the Seventh

Posted on Thursday, 8 August 2002, at 7:10 p.m.

The swaying of the carriage finally put Sir William to sleep. He had regaled Lizzie and Maria for miles with his stories of St James and how visiting Rosings would be similar to that grand establishment, so they should follow is lead to know how to behave. Now he sagged in the corner, snoring.

"I am going to miss Meryton," ventured Maria.

"Is this your first trip from home then?" asked Lizzie.

"Yes, and we will be gone for such a long time. It will be an age until we see the officers again."

"I don't very much mind not seeing the officers," said Lizzie.

"But don't you think Mr Wickham handsome?"

"Oh he thinks himself handsome and charming enough that I really need not think of him at all," said Lizzie.

"Do you not like him?" asked Maria in surprise. "I had thought . . . that is to say, did you not dance with him twice at the ball?"

"That was not by my wish. He was very forward in his attentions that evening, but luckily his thoughts have now turned elsewhere."

"Miss King is not very pretty - I can't see why he should like her," said Maria. "You are much prettier than she is."

"Thank you, Maria, but I am not disappointed that he shifted his interest, rather I am sorry for Miss King to have to suffer his attentions because she has inherited 10,000 pounds."

"Can that be the reason for his interest?"

"It is for certain. Miss King would do well to brush him off, for he is not a man to be trusted."

"But he smiled at me once, and looked deep into my eyes. His eyes were so blue," said Maria, colouring deeply at the memory. "My heart skipped a beat. He cannot be so very bad."

"Then it is a good thing you have no fortune," said Lizzie, "for you would have no defences against his charm. Do not be guided by a gentleman's appearance alone. You must discover if he has a character you can truly respect."

"I shall indeed try!" said Maria fervently, wondering how she would manage unless Lizzie were there to guide her every step.

Lizzie thought of the green eyes that she had succumbed to. She knew she had been keenly moved by them before she had the least inkling of Mr Darcy's character. And his little smile; the first time she had seen it, it had confused her thoughts. 'I am just such a hopeless case as Maria,' she thought, 'the perfect person to give advice of this nature!'

It was reassuring to see Charlotte waiting by the gate as they arrived to Hunsford. Mr Collins was running every which way, advising them upon the best means to descend from the coach, giving orders to the sturdy lad who was dealing with the luggage, and pointing out which trees in the front garden Lady Catherine had graciously advised him to trim. When he had presented the parsonage to Lizzie with an out-flung arm, he gave her such a smile that seemed to indicate, 'if you had been wiser, all this would have been yours.' Charlotte hugged her friend and smiled placidly.
"I feel it is best to let him ramble on," she said softly into Lizzie's ear. "He does come to a stop eventually, usually when he is fed. I do believe in laying a good table."

Mr Collins announced that the next day a great treat was in store for them. They had been invited to Rosings. In this honour he felt all that was due his position as parson. Maria and Sir William were duly amazed, and gave him their undivided attention, making it possible for Charlotte and Lizzie to walk on ahead. Charlotte was able to show her home to Lizzie by herself, without reference to Lady Catherine's improvements, only the changes that she had undertaken herself, with all the care and attention to her own comfort and convenience.

When they sat down to their meal, Mr Collins produced a letter he had received that morning, and, between mouthfuls, informed them in the strongest accents of disappointment that it was from his younger brother who regretted being unable to make a projected visit at that time, due to the untimely illness of his mother.

Charlotte felt no small disappointment. She had been looking forward to meeting her husband's brother for some time. He was the son of the late Mr Collins' second wife, and from what she had heard, he bore a striking resemblance to his mother in both appearance and temperament. From his letters he appeared cheerful, intelligent, and agreeable. She had thought that his visit at the same time as Lizzie's would prove providential. To have Lizzie as a sister would be a dream come true, and in her imaginings (she indulged in imaginings constantly to avoid hearing any of her husband's conversation) she had married the two of them at least a dozen times over. This unwelcome news had destroyed all her plans in that direction, and as she could not conceive of a quick death for the old lady or a logical reason for the younger Mr Collins to rush and visit his brother immediately upon his mother's demise, she had to give up her hopes for the time being, and instead devote her attention to the entertainment of her guests.

Lady Catherine was all that Lizzie had supposed her to be, proud, domineering, and uncivil to her visitors. She asked them many questions, and then, without giving them time to respond, answered them all herself. Within half an hour of Lizzie's acquaintance, she had advised her upon all the minutest details of her dress, grooming, and deportment, and assured her that if she followed all the instructions to the letter, she would be ensured of receiving a proposal before the year was out.

Lizzie had been concerned about meeting Miss Anne, knowing that she was nominally promised to Mr Darcy, and wondering what kind of a woman possibly stood in her way, but when she saw her, rather than jealousy or dislike, she felt immediate sympathy for the girl who sat so small and silent at her mother's side. If her mother's wishes carried the day, and Darcy was coerced into marrying Anne, Lizzie could see no hope for the happiness of either. Darcy, with his shy reserve, needed someone who could bring him out of himself. Aside from that, how was this shadow of a girl to satisfy a man of such quick intelligence and subtle wit? Lizzie could think of only one girl who could really offer Darcy all that he needed, if only he would overcome his pride and consider her. But then, there were those truly accomplished ladies he knew, all five of them. Maybe one of them was right now accomplishing what she herself had been unable to do. He had been long in London, and Bingley too. Somehow Caroline had managed to keep Bingley away from Jane's side. Lizzie started to attention as Lady Catherine suddenly addressed her.

"And are any of your other sisters out?"

"They are all out, Ma'am, even though the youngest is only just 16."

"That is most irregular! Whatever was your mother thinking?"

"She was thinking that they would not like to wait as their older sisters had not the good fortune to marry yet."

"You are a rather impertinent girl!" said Lady Catherine, her beady gaze on Elizabeth's face. "I am not accustomed to being answered in such a manner."

"Cousin Elizabeth spoke without thinking and is indeed regretting her words, are you not Cousin? She is well aware of the great . . ."

"Silence! What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Only that I was answering you truthfully and meant no disrespect," said Lizzie.

Maria Lucas stared at Lizzie, her mouth an 'o', her eyes huge; Sir William got out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead; Mr Collins held two fingers to his lips, his body bent forward in a half bowing position; Miss Anne darted a look of interest in Lizzie's direction; and Mrs Collins smiled placidly, gazing in Lady Catherine's direction with her limpid brown eyes that betrayed none of the laughter within.

Lady Catherine stared intently at Lizzie. "Well, in that case," she said dismissively. She turned to Mrs Jenkinson: "Anne's shawl is slipping. You must be sure to keep it always about her shoulders."

Lizzie spent her days with Charlotte and Maria in the little back parlour, or strolling in the many walks of Rosings Park. Mr Collins was very busy composing sermons, tending his garden, and keeping his eye on the comings and goings on the road out front through his library window. Visits to Rosings were an ordeal that Lizzie had to suffer through at least twice a week. They hadn't been at Hunsford long before they had the news that Mr Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were expected at Rosings shortly. On first hearing Mr Darcy mentioned, Lizzie looked over to Anne, but saw no maidenly blush overspread her sallow features or any other indication that the visit of her cousin affected her emotions. Inside, Lizzie had felt a tingling rush of excitement at the very mention of his name. The idea of him coming to stay at Rosings while they were in Hunsford filled her with dread and anticipation.

A few days brought the very gentleman and his cousin to the parsonage door to pay their respects to the ladies. As Mr Collins had run ahead to forewarn them of the coming treat, the ladies within had a few moments to prepare themselves to met the visiting gentlemen. Charlotte cast a speculative look in Lizzie's direction and thought, 'he would not be coming quite so soon if not for you.' Lizzie was busy attempting to set her mind at ease, trying to determine whether seeing him would cause her pleasure or distress, and she had just decided that pleasure was uppermost when he was announced and entered the room. The stiffness with which he held himself erect, and his austere gaze that barely rested on her before it continued around the room, caused her feelings to plummet. Why had he come only to be so very distant? Could they not meet as friends? She held back the smile of friendship that had readily come to her lips and turned it instead upon his cousin.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was a well-looking, gentlemanlike man, with an open and friendly countenance. He had neither Mr Darcy's height nor his demeanor. He was most willing to meet and get to know all the inhabitants of the parsonage. He was skilled in conversation, and managed to forestall both Mr Collins and Sir William from making their interminable speeches. Mr Darcy, on the other hand, went over to Charlotte's side, and after the first polite greetings, stood in silence, looking as much at the walls or out the window as at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth wondered at his behaviour towards her, feeling hurt and confused until she took herself in stock, remembering that Mr Darcy could indeed merely be reacting out of shyness. She had thought that he need not be shy with her, but paying a social visit to a lowly parsonage must be a new and unusual situation for him to be in. Here shyness and pride must be putting up a strong fight against politeness and civility. Lizzie looked over until his gaze met hers and she gave him the smile of welcome that she had held back before. Mr Darcy seemed to unbend a little and in a few moments approached her.

"I must ask after your family, Miss Elizabeth. Are they well?"

"Indeed, they are all well. And our friends, Mr Bingley and his sisters, are they still in town?"

"Yes, I have only just left them to come here, although the Hursts have gone to stay with friends in the north." After saying this, Mr Darcy seemed unsure how to proceed. The fact that Bingley had not returned to Netherfield yet was a touchy subject, and he did not want to give the wrong impression.

"Ah," said Elizabeth, "so Miss Bingley needs her brother to chaperone her about London."

Darcy's relief showed plainly. She had understood him perfectly, and the subject had been got through smoothly. But he had not counted upon Elizabeth's next question.

"My sister Jane has been in town these three months. Have you not chanced to see her?"

Darcy was completely taken aback. "Your sister in town?" was all that he could manage.

"Yes, she has been staying with our aunt and uncle Gardiner, in Gracechurch Street."

"And she has not visited her friend Caroline Bingley?"

"She has called on her, and the visit was eventually returned."

"I was completely unaware, and Bingley also . . . and where did you say she was staying?"

"In Gracechurch Street."

"Had we but known we would have called to pay our respects along with Caroline."

"But Gracechurch street is in Cheapside," said Lizzie, unable to resist, knowing as she did Mr Darcy's attitude towards connections in Cheapside.

"I am well aware of that," said Darcy, his colour a trifle heightened by the conversation that had not gone as well as he had wanted it to.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had come along and been listening with interest and amusement to this exchange. He decided that it was an appropriate time for him to enter into the fray. "My cousin, Miss Bennet, knows London like the back of his hand. You could name an address anywhere in the city and he could tell you its exact situation."

Elizabeth smiled thankfully up at the Colonel and answered in kind. She was appalled at what she had just said; it had been so uncivil. After all, Mr Darcy had just set her mind at ease about Mr Bingley and she should have shown her gratitude, rather than taking a stab at his pride. She shot a look or two at Mr Darcy while she conversed lightly with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but he had retreated back behind his mask, and appeared to be a million miles away. What she did not see was how often his gaze fell upon her when she was not looking, and the expression in his green eyes. None of this was lost on Charlotte, who saw much food for thought, and for the next few days Darcy and the Colonel alternated as the protagonist in her fanciful imaginings for Lizzie's future.

On their walk back to Rosings, Darcy pondered the problem of his inability to behave normally around Elizabeth. He was sure he had made a terrible impression on her, and it was equally evident that his cousin had been very well received. There were two very important things that he had to take care of before he saw her again, and then he felt he would be able to meet her with more equanimity.

"Darcy! Come out of that pensive rut and talk to me," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Why is it you never told me of the beauties of Hertfordshire before? All this talk of shooting moorhens was obvious nonsense. If I had known such attractions were to be had there, I would have gladly accompanied you and Bingley!"

"Mrs Collins is an agreeable woman, and her sister Miss Maria has a naïve prettiness that I suppose you find attractive," said Darcy, purposely avoiding the real object of his cousin's praise.

"Don't toy with me man, you know very well I am referring to Miss Bennet. I was expecting another insipid visit with Aunt Catherine and poor Anne, but visits to the parsonage will make the time much more rewarding. You must encourage Auntie to invite the whole party to dine with us."

"Yes, I do so want to spend more time conversing with Mr Collins."

"The man is an utter mindless fool, but we need not spare a thought for him. Come, you have not mentioned the lovely lady yet. Have you no interest there? Am I free to claim her for myself?"

"You should be careful of giving too much attention when nothing is to come of it. You do not want to raise her expectations."

"You are behaving like a real stick! What twaddle! I should think I can enjoy a flirtation with the lady without compromising myself. And if I were to form an attachment, what is it to you?"

"Only that her portion is small. Her father is a gentleman with a small estate, but he has five daughters to provide for, and her mother's relations are in trade."

"Oho! The Cheapside aunt and uncle. Is there nothing worse than that?"

"Her other uncle is a lawyer, and not at all genteel. Her mother is a harridan, and her younger sisters are the most ignorant, undisciplined, indecorous, unruly girls I have ever seen. Their only interest is to flirt with the officers of the local militia. It is a wonder that Miss Elizabeth and Miss Jane turned out at all well."

"I see, and in telling me this you are attempting to discourage me in all good conscience?" asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with a sly smile.

Darcy coloured. "I feel that it is for your own good that you are aware of all the young lady's connections. You are the younger son of an Earl. You must marry where there is fortune and name."

"Thank you for all your kind intentions, cousin! I have just met the girl and your thoughts are turning to matrimony. I suppose you have no such interest concerning the young lady?" he gave Darcy a swift look, but could detect nothing that would confirm such suspicions. "Her connections must put her well below your standard as well."

"You are correct." Darcy was not about to give himself away to his cousin. He realised that Elizabeth's connections had ceased to be a concern for him for quite some time. As long as they were not in his sight it was easy enough to dismiss them. He was aware that his tirade about the mother and sister's had come from his heart They were a degradation and there was no denying it, but that was something he felt he would willingly put up with if he could manage to make Elizabeth his own. Elizabeth. It was some time since he thought of her with any other name. He had to be careful when talking to her not to forget to call her Miss Elizabeth, or he would be sure to spoil his suit.

Darcy left Colonel Fitzwilliam to his own devices when they arrived back to the house, and went in search of his cousin Anne. He was lucky to find her in her own quarters with only Mrs Jenkinson in attendance.

"Cousin Anne, there is something very particular that I need to talk to you about," he said.

Mrs Jenkinson looked up from her needlework. "I suggest that you take your cousin for a turn in the garden, Mr Darcy. I have not been able to attend her there yet today, and it would be a great help to me if you would do so."

Anne put on a shawl and silently went out into her usual walk with her cousin.

"You may wonder what I am about to ask you," said Darcy, "but it is something I should have spoken to you of very much sooner than this."

"Please Fitzwilliam," said Anne, forestalling him. "Do not speak. I do not wish it."

"You do not wish to speak with me? Have I offended you in some way Anne?"

"I do not wish to marry you. Please do not ask me," cried Anne almost in tears.

"You have quite misunderstood me Anne, I was not about to ask for your hand, but only to find out your feelings regarding our betrothal. For years I had not taken it seriously at all until it was brought to my attention that you might. I am greatly relieved that you have as much inclination toward the match as I have. To tell the truth I am not sure what I would have done if you had said that you wished it."

"Are you in love with another?"

Darcy looked at his cousin, not knowing how to answer the unexpected question.

"I have a confession to make," said Anne bravely. "But you must promise not to tell."

"You are safe with me Anne dear," said Darcy softly.

Anne sat on a bench, and Darcy sat companionably beside her.

"I am in love. He is the most wonderful man. He is so agreeable and he makes me feel like I am special," Anne took Darcy's hand and looked up into his face. "He loves me. Me! And he has made me so happy."

"Who is this person? Where did you ever meet him?" said Darcy, amazed at the glow in his cousin's eyes and the brightness of her countenance.

"Last summer he came to visit his brother, and I first met him when they called on my mother. After that I met him when I was out for drives with Mrs Jenkinson. She is so good to me. She wants nothing but my happiness."

"His brother is a local gentleman?" asked Darcy, unable to think of any of their neighbours who would have a brother to interest Anne.

"Oh yes. His brother is Mr Collins, the parson," said Anne. Noting Darcy's shocked reaction she quickly added, "Marcus is nothing at all like his brother. He is tall and slender, intelligent and funny. He has the most wonderful golden curls, and a truly cherubic countenance." She stopped herself, blushing fiercely.

"But . . . your mother will never countenance the match! The younger brother of the parson, and you the heir to Rosings. Are you sure he is not importuning you?"

"No, no, Fitzwilliam," said Anne in tears. "He truly loves me. He hates my fortune and wants nothing of it. He is to inherit a small estate of some three thousand pounds from his mother. If he could have his wish, I would be penniless, but he does not want to deprive me of what is my due. Oh cousin, do not think me such a simpleton that I could be taken in by a fortune hunter!"

"So what are you to do?"

"We are secretly engaged until he can think of a solution. He was to have visited his brother now, but did not because of his other guests. He cried off claiming his mother had taken ill. In truth, her illness was very minor but he wrote me that he could not give consequence to his brother's guests while being obliged to ignore me. He will come again when he is able, but until then my dear Mrs Jenkinson assists us in our correspondence. Please do not let my mother know of this."

"I gave you my word. But do I have permission to tell one person, without including any of the particulars, of course."

"Whom do you wish to tell?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She would tell no-one, I am assured of that." It was Darcy's turn to blush.

"I recall you had met her last fall in Hertfordshire. You may tell her. I like her very much."

From an upper window, Lady Catherine looked down upon her daughter and her favourite nephew sitting close together on the park bench, holding hands and talking in what appeared to be a most intimate manner. She felt a surge of satisfaction, and a smile spread across her embittered features.

Continued in the next section