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Chapter Six

Posted on Wednesday, 20 August 2003, at 5:39 p.m.

"Darcy, are you not going to dance?" Charles Bingley asked as he took a break from the floor. "You cannot possibly enjoy an assembly leaning up against the wall as you are in this stupid manner. You look as if you wish yourself anywhere but here."

"I do."

"But it was upon your suggestion that we attended. Sometimes your moods exasperate me so. Come, there are some remarkably pretty girls here - you must dance."

"You dance, Bingley. I have no wish to allow my ill humour to spoil your evening."

"My partner has a sister who is very pretty, look - the dark-haired young lady seated close by. Why not stand up with her?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy turned his head. "Which do you mean?"

Lizzie sat alongside the dance floor talking animatedly to her friend, Charlotte Lucas.

"Have you met the new tenants of Netherfield?" asked Charlotte.

"I have not yet had the pleasure of noticing any of them in this crowd. The assembly is uncommonly well attended tonight. I believe half the county is here to stake their claim on the unfortunate young men."

"I should think they are well accustomed to it," replied Charlotte. "Where wealth is present this type of attention is expected. I would imagine their pride would suffer grave disappointment were it not to happen."

"You are too severe on them, Charlotte dear," said Lizzie with a smile.

"I do not mean to be harsh - they ought to feel pride in their station, and deserve the respect they are given. I refuse to pity them as you do."

Lizzie's laughter filled the space between them. "You were always so much more sensible than I!"

"Oh Lizzie, if you turn your head now, you will see the two single gentleman of the Netherfield party, over by the pillar. They are both exceedingly handsome." This was said in a hushed voice and with a nod of her head in the direction she spoke of.

Lizzie turned slightly, and caught the back view of a tall gentleman with excellent bearing and dark, curly hair. She was suddenly overcome as her heart beat like a captive bird in her rib cage. Could it really be, after all this time? The heat of the room became overwhelming, the noise of the crowds a din that threatened to deafen her. She was certain all the colour had left her face. Charlotte was forgotten. She was about to rise up to her feet and approach him, throwing decorum to the wind, when, as if she had willed it, he turned to face her and their eyes met. Even at such a distance she could see their clear grey depths and all her anticipation came crashing down. Disappointment coursed through every vein. It was not he. How could she have misled herself so? She was caught, half risen from her chair, his eyes still upon her. Her face became suffused by a strong flush and she sank back down into her chair, quickly lowering her gaze.

Charlotte watched her friend with no little interest. What an unusual reaction. She looked from Lizzie to the gentleman and back again. "Have you met before?"

"No, we have not," Lizzie managed as her senses still whirled.

"But what is it then?"

"Please, I beg, do not ask me."

"I will not, but I must tell you that the gentleman is coming this way with my father. If I am not mistaken he is seeking an introduction"

Fitzwilliam glanced over at the girl Bingley had indicated. She had chestnut brown curls and a gentle, round face. "She is tolerable," he sighed, but her looks will never tempt me. "However, to ease your mind I will dance this one dance with her, if you promise to plague me no further tonight."

"Come then, and let me introduce you. I am certain you will find her very pleasant."

Fitzwilliam gave himself up to his friend's care and the introductions were made, the request for a dance accepted. Pleasant. Fitzwilliam wondered if Charles knew just how accurate his description was. The young lady smiled sweetly and made dull, predictable conversation, until silenced by her partner's lack of response. Fitzwilliam's mind was elsewhere. In what county, at what assembly he knew not, but somewhere on this night she was in all likelihood dancing a country dance just like he. Did she scan the crowd, hoping to see him, and find that none of her partners could hold her interest? Or had she long since forgotten? No, he could not think that. He was certain what they had shared meant as much to her as it had to him. Five years and he had not forgotten her smile, or the haven to be found within her arms.

Somehow he managed all the movements of the dance, like a sleepwalker who navigates darkened hallways without seeing his way, and returned the girl to her seat at the appropriate time. As he walked away, she turned and whispered to her friend. "I suppose I was not good enough to talk to. The rich are filled with pride and arrogance. From now on I shall content myself with dancing with the officers, they are much more appreciative." Her friend nodded her head and giggled in agreement.

Lizzie strove to compose herself. Whatever would he think of her? She had been blatantly staring. She stood as Sir William approached and addressed her.

"My dear Miss Bennet, this young gentleman wishes to be known to you. Mr Andrews - Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He turned to Mr Andrews with a big smile. "I am sure you will not find a lovelier partner. Oh, yes, and here is my Charlotte. You remember meeting my daughter, Miss Lucas, do you not?"

"Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas, a pleasure," he said with a bow, and then he turned to Lizzie. "Will you do me the honour of the next dance?"

Lizzie bobbed a curtsy and accepted quietly. There was nothing else that she could do. Up close, she could see why she had momentarily mistaken Mr Andrews for him. He was of the same height, and his build was slight, as in a very young man, but his face showed that he was clearly almost thirty. His expression was agreeable, and lightly amused, but his features were not as well formed as those she remembered so distinctly.

When they had been on the floor for a few minutes and dispensed with all the usual social niceties, Lizzie looked directly into his eyes and said, "You must be wondering at my lack of decorum. I apologise for staring just then, but for a moment I mistook you for . . . someone else."

"I believe I was at fault as well. I, however, did not mistake you for anyone else. I stared because I thought you the most beautiful girl in the room. I am sorry I am not the person you had hoped to see."

Lizzie blushed deeply. "I did not say . . ." She faltered. She had let out too much already.

"I had no intentions of discomposing you," Mr Andrews responded gently. "I was only repaying frankness with frankness. I do beg your pardon."

Lizzie smiled at him. "I have a way of saying things I ought not. Let us start over."

"By all means. I am Mr Andrews, of Bedfordshire, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet." He bowed and then was taken away by the movements of the dance.

When they were together again Lizzie said, "And how does Hertfordshire contrast to your fine county?" after which they spent the rest of the dance comparing the merits of their respective homes. When Lizzie was returned to her seat she had to admit to herself that the encounter had not gone too badly. Her partner led Charlotte out and she was left to reflect on their dance.

She had finally overcome the shock of thinking he was in the same room as her at long last. She strove to put all thought and desire of him out of her mind. Mr Andrews had treated her with more kindness than she deserved. She knew that her candour had prompted his flattery, so she was easily able to dismiss it. She had liked him - he was a nice gentleman - and as she watched his dance with Charlotte she hoped he would develop an attraction to her friend. Charlotte needed just such a man who would appreciate all her good qualities. Her reverie was interrupted by Jane who came to sit beside her, eyes glowing with pleasure.

"Is this not the most delightful assembly?" she asked.

"So, what is his name?"

"Who?" Jane blushed. "Oh, you mean the new tenant of Netherfield? His name is Mr Fairborn. Have you met his sisters? They are both very nice ladies."

"I have only met Mr Andrews, and he seems congenial."

"Yes, I could not help but notice you dancing with him. I thought you looked very well together."

"Dear Jane. And I was just thinking how well he and Charlotte look."

They were interrupted by Mr Fairborn, requesting Jane's hand for the dinner dance. Lizzie thought him very amiable, and was satisfied to see the soft look in his eyes when he beheld her sister, and the way they always travelled back to Jane, even while he was talking most politely to her. Lizzie soon excused herself and returned to her family spending the rest of the evening in conversation with Mary and her father and doing her best to ignore her mother's speculations about Jane and Mr Fairborn. She had no more desire to dance, and when Mr Andrews asked her again she declined. He stayed by her side and conversed with her family for a good length of time before he returned to his own party and led out one of his friend's sisters.

"It appears Jane is not the only one of my daughters who is admired tonight," said her father with a wink. "Mr Andrews seems an intelligent and sensible young man."

"He was just being polite, Papa."

Her father gave her a knowing look and said no more.

That evening, back at the inn, Fitzwilliam paced to and fro across the small sitting room of their compartments. He was on a fool's errand, but there was no way of stopping himself. Was he being fair to Bingley, not telling him his ulterior motives for accompanying him on this jaunt? It was true that he intended to help his friend find an acceptable estate, and that Bingley was, honestly, in need of his advice, but that was not the only thing that drove him, and as far as concerned him, it was the least important. They were to visit five different estates in three different counties. At least five chances of encountering her at some country assembly or neighbourhood soirée.

He had been unlucky in Cheapside, or any London party. The thought that she might make her come out in London had driven him to the city for the season the last few years. He had even graced the halls of Almacks, but to no avail. He had scoured both Derbyshire and Kent, even though he knew that Kent was hopeless. Now he and Bingley were touring Staffordshire, Leicestershire and Warwickshire, and, though Bingley was mainly concerned with the situation and repair of the estates his agent recommended, and secondarily interested in the society afforded in the general vicinity of said estates, Fitzwilliam only cared if he should chance to meet a brown-haired girl of about twenty with eyes that held his soul.

"I don't know why you torment yourself in this way," cried Bingley in exasperation. "Either go for a walk or come and sit by the fire - it is making me dizzy watching you stride back and forth in that manner."

"I do apologise," said Fitzwilliam, taking a seat and then restlessly drumming on the arm of the chair.

"Why do you insist we attend these functions if you derive no pleasure from them?"

In all fairness he needed to know, at least a little bit of it. "I am searching for someone who remains elusive." Fitzwilliam's voice gave away some of the anguish he was feeling.

Bingley leaned forward in his chair, his face eager. "I have long noticed this preoccupation you have and I had been hoping you would take me into your confidence."

"Am I that transparent? I suppose I must be."

"We spend a lot of time together. Most people only put it down to your general reserve, but I have been aware that something is not right with you."

"What would you say if I said that I am in love?"

Bingley's expression changed to astonishment. "I would never have thought that."

"There is no other woman for me," he said simply, "but I know not how or where to find her, or even her name."

"Then how do you . . . I mean . . . well, dash it all - how is something like this possible?"

"I was young and thoughtless - our feelings were more important than mere details."

"And now you are intent to scour the country for her. I never took you for such a romantic - still waters run deep." Bingley's voice held only awe.

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Many times!"

Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Yes, it was a foolish question. You are forever thinking yourself in love. One day, I hope, you will discover what I have - a deep, abiding, unforgettable passion. Just be sure to remember to ask her name." His voice became more serious. "I am sorry if I have been taking advantage of your good nature in using this trip as a means to locate her, and then giving way to my foul temper every time I am unsuccessful."

"Don't give it a thought. I am used to your humours, and now that I know the reason I am all the more prepared to endure them. I will travel all over the countryside with you, if that is what you desire. It is my fondest wish to see you happy."

"I may hold you to that, but for now, let us find you an estate. Wherever we may go, we will always need a starting point."

Fitzwilliam reached out and grasped Bingley's hand, his fierce grip conveying his appreciation of his friend's loyalty and support much more than any words could. He recognised the depth of friendship that unquestioningly championed his quixotic search.

In the weeks following the assembly, both Mr Fairborn and Mr Andrews were constant visitors at Longbourn, and Mrs Bennet was crowing all over the neighbourhood about Jane's conquest. She did not mind which of the two Jane eventually settled for, though Mr Andrews was the richer, Mr Fairborn appeared much more besotted. Sometimes she thought that Mr Andrews mainly came for her husband's company, because he spent so much time conversing with Mr Bennet and Lizzie.

One day Mr Bennet advised his family that they were to receive a visit from a relative they had never before seen, and when Fanny Bennet discovered that it was the very gentleman who would throw them all out of the house before her husband was cold in his grave, she greatly bemoaned the need to entertain him. Mr Collins turned out to be a slightly corpulent gentleman in his late twenties, whose obsequious attitude won Mrs Bennet over in a matter of minutes,

Upon entering the Longbourn drawing room, he compared it to that if his patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, and Mrs Bennet could not help but feel all the grandeur of the compliment. He completed his conquest by informing her that his main purpose in the visit was to make reparations to the family by marrying one of the daughters. Mrs Bennet lost no time in informing him of Jane's anticipated betrothal, and suggested that he set his sights on Elizabeth. He was more than ready to comply and sought her company at every chance he could get. Lizzie was unaware of the machinations of her mother, and though she found her cousin offensive and grotesque to the extreme, had her own reasons to desire private conversation with him. She had a question to ask that she wanted nobody more astute than he to hear. One morning he joined her as she wandered in the garden and soon gave her the very opening she desired.

"Cousin Elizabeth, you would be most impressed with the magnificent grounds at Rosings. The walks are amazingly abundant, the design superlative - I would be most happy to one day show them to you myself."

"I can well believe it. I passed by the estate some years ago on a visit with my aunt."

"And did you not think it the most grand property you ever beheld? Did you, perchance, espy Lady Catherine and her charming daughter Anne in their carriage? A more regal equipage it would be difficult to encounter."

"No. I am afraid I missed that spectacle, though I did see a gentleman on horseback. He rode a very fine horse."

"By far the finest are those in my lady's stables."

As Mr Collins showed no interest in her mention of the gentleman, Lizzie felt it incumbent upon herself to persist. "You must be acquainted with the other well to do members of the parish. Would you happen to know who he may be? He was tall and dark-haired and I would imagine not too much older than myself."

"I, of course, know all the important inhabitants of that environ." Here Mr Collins primped. "I have met with all the first families while at tea or dining at Rosings. Lady Catherine is condescending enough to invite me nearly every week, and advises me on the smallest details of my parish duties. She is very devoted to my wellbeing and I pride myself that I give her all the due respect that she deserves. She has even advised me on marriage - and for her sake I will chose a wife that is both well bred and attractive." He gave Lizzie a look that to her eyes was little more than a leer.

"And the neighbours? Is there such a gentleman as I have described?"

"Well, it may have been Mr Ortenby, although he is nearing forty and run to fat. He has a very nice chestnut, though. Then there is Mr Henderson, who rides a bay mare. Lady Catherine says that if he were not quite so short he would look to advantage in the saddle. It could easily have been Sir Randolph's son, Barnard Dempsey, but Lady Catherine says he is no judge of horseflesh at all."

"And is he tall and dark?" asked Lizzie expectantly.

"He is a great hulk of a young man, with fiery red hair. I'm certain you must be mistaken, cousin dear, and really it makes no odds who he was because, as I have said already, Lady Catherine has the finest horses in all of Kent. I do not like this show of interest in strangers, especially while you are talking with me. I was hoping I had made more of an impression on you than that, or . . . is this a ploy to pique my interest with jealousy? Aha! You see, Lady Catherine has warned me of the arts and allurements young ladies like to use upon their beaux." He smirked at her and leaned in close to her face.

Lizzie recoiled in disgust. "Cousin! I do not use such arts and I have no interest in beaux."

"Sweet Elizabeth, own that you have a fondness for me, just as I have for you." He fumblingly tried to pull her into an embrace but she slipped from his grasp.

"Remember your station, sir!"

"Even the clergy desire the delights of connubial bliss, Elizabeth. I am not attempting to soil your virtue, I am asking for your hand in marriage. I think now I could expect a kiss to seal our betrothal."

"I have not yet given you an answer, sir. Do not be so hasty."

"But we both know the answer, do we not? Your mother has promised that you will be mine, to save your family in the event of your father's death, though I pride myself in acknowledging that there are more advantages to marrying me than that. Besides the obvious attractions of my person, and the security of the parsonage at Hunsford, there is the added bonus of the society of the great lady herself, and all the benefice she has to offer. The temptation of such an offer cannot help but be overwhelming." He reached for her again but Lizzie was able to outmanoeuvre him.

"Nothing on earth could tempt me to marry you," she spat. Whenever his hands grasped at her arms or touched the curve of her waist it made her flesh crawl with disgust. She had only once before been touched by a man anywhere other than on the hand and she felt defiled and nauseous. "I ask that you not speak to me upon this subject again."

"I will marry you," insisted Mr Collins as his face reddened in anger. "I have your mother's assurance of that. And when we are wed, you will be taught obedience. I am looking forward to the lessons very much."

Lizzie turned and ran as tears streamed down her face. She didn't stop running until she reached her father's study and burst through the door. "Oh Papa!" she cried as she threw herself into his arms. It was only then that she noticed her father was not alone. She hid her face in his waistcoat and convulsed in sobs.

Mr Andrews silently got up and walked from the room, his extreme concern plainly written on his face. The only one to witness the look was Mr Bennet. He sighed deeply and stroked Lizzie's hair. "What is it, my little Lizzie? You can tell me everything and I will endeavour to make it all right."

Chapter Seven

Posted on Wednesday, 27 August 2003, at 10:44 p.m.

"You cannot make me marry him!" cried Lizzie once her sobs had subsided.

"Marry whom?" asked her father in confusion. "I would never expect you to marry against your will."

"But he says it is all arranged with mother, but even if he were not so very disgusting nothing would induce me to marry him."

"So this is what has upset you so. Lizzie, I thought you had more strength of character than to be so overset by the pretensions of that fool cousin of ours."

Lizzie looked up at her father and dried the tears from her eyes. She could not tell him the reason she had become so distressed. That having any other man touch her in that way was completely abhorrent. That his advances brought on so much fear and doubt, and made her question the very thing that was more dear to her than anything in her life. Were all men base and shallow; were words without substance, to dry and crumble as fallen leaves and be scattered by the wind? Could she believe her memory of him or was it just a childish dream that she clung to?

"He attempted to take liberties." She hung her head.

The tone of her father's voice changed. "Did he now? His foolishness I can bear but that is one thing I will never stand for. I am sorry, Lizzie, that this has happened. I have not protected you as a father should - I ignorantly trusted that his clerical collar would keep you safe from ungentlemanly advances. Your upset is now understandable. He will be gone before the day is out."

"But mother . . ."

"Your mother will abide by what I say." He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Rest easy and put this all behind you."

Exiting through the gate as he departed Longbourn, Mr Andrews came upon Charlotte who was on the point of entering.

"Miss Lucas. You are on your way to visit Miss Elizabeth?"

"I am sir," she said with a smile.

"I hope that you may be permitted to see her. She has just come into the house in very evident distress." His voice held concern and he looked at Charlotte with entreaty.

"What has happened? Is she ill?"

"I know not - I came away only knowing that I had no right to stay and impose myself upon the family, but you - I think it would be good for her to have her dearest friend close by."

Charlotte thanked him and watched as he strode off towards Netherfield, a wistful look in her eyes. When she arrived at the door, the house was already in chaos. Mrs Bennet could be heard wailing, which was not unusual, but Mr Bennet's voice was also to be heard, raised in anger. Something must be terribly wrong. Without waiting for the servant, Charlotte entered the house, only to almost be bowled over by a flustered Mr Collins who was scuttling out the door, portmanteau in hand, clothing trailing from it.

"I came with good intent, and this is how I am repaid," he muttered as he passed. "Lady Catherine will be seriously displeased."

She watched him go in shock and then made her way down the passage where she met Lydia who greeted her with a smile upon her face.

"You will not believe what has happened - it is so droll! Mr Collins offered for Lizzie and she refused him, and then he tried to force his attentions upon her! Can you imagine? That toad! Now she will be all over with warts. And father was so livid he sent him packing. It was the funniest scene imaginable!"

"Where is Lizzie?"

"Oh la! I have no idea. She is probably in her bedchamber retching! I have never laughed so hard in all my life."

"Your compassion for your sister is commendable," said Charlotte as she started up the stairs. Lydia just tossed her head and ran off in search of Kitty.

Charlotte tapped on the door of the bedchamber that Lizzie and Jane shared and then opened the door and peeked her head around it. "May I come in?"

"Charlotte!" Jane looked up from where she sat with Lizzie in her arms. "I am so pleased to see you. Can you stay with Lizzie while I go to my mother? Mary does not understand how to calm her as I do."

Charlotte sat on the bed and took Lizzie's hand. When Jane had left the room Lizzie turned to her and said, "You must think me a complete ninny, reacting in this manner when I suppose I should be laughing."

"No I do not. I met Mr Andrews on his way out. He was extremely concerned for your welfare."

"Oh, Mr Andrews!" said Lizzie covering her face in shame. "What he must have thought of me crying in front of him like that?"

"I don't think it altered his feelings in the least."

"What are you saying, Charlotte?"

"The man is in love with you. His every word and action show it."

"You are imagining things."

"I think not. I also met with Lydia in the hall. She seems to think the whole affair of Mr Collins a good joke."

"I trust I too will see it thus one day. Thinking of it now still makes me shiver. Oh Charlotte - it was horrible - he said that mama had told him we were to marry and that when we did he would enjoy making me obedient . . . and I know he was referring to . . . the marriage bed . . . and I was filled with such revulsion."

"The thought is repellent, isn't it?" said Charlotte wrinkling up her nose. "I would try my luck as a governess before considering marriage to someone like him."

"It is so good to listen to your common sense. All my mother can do is lament about how I have destroyed her future."

"But, when Jane is married to Mr Fairborn and you to Mr Andrews, what worries will she have over losing Longbourn? She will be well provided for."

"It is my fondest wish that Jane marry Mr Fairborn, but I have no intention of marrying Mr Andrews, even if he were to offer for me, which I do not believe he will."

"But Lizzie, why ever not? He is handsome, rich, intelligent, and excessively kind."

"But I do not love him."

"Lizzie! Love will grow with time, though how you remain unaffected by him I have no idea. He is everything a woman could ask for." Charlotte blushed and turned her head away.

"I sincerely hope that you are wrong in your suspicions. I have no wish to bring pain to him, and I want your happiness too."

"What has my happiness to do with it?'

"Everything, from what I can tell." Lizzie put her arms around her friend and held her close. "I hope you are luckier in love than I have been," she whispered.

"Lizzie - I have no expectations of him ever falling in love with me, but I would accept him even if he were not, so why cannot you accept him, even if you are not in love? He will make the best of husbands."

"I do not doubt that - but I have no right to accept him, if he should ever ask, even if my heart were free."

"You are talking in riddles. You are worthy of anyone. And who could possibly already own your heart? There is nobody of our acquaintance that you love - I should know it if there were."

"No, you are right. There is nobody of our acquaintance - but I can say no more."

Charlotte thought back to the assembly and recalled Lizzie's unusual reaction upon first seeing Mr Andrews. Lizzie must have met someone on one of her visits to Gracechurch Street - someone who had broken her heart. It was a new feeling for Charlotte, but she knew what it was to love in vain, and she wondered if she could be as steadfast as her friend. Would she spurn such an advantageous offer when there was no hope with the object of her love? Would she choose spinsterhood over security? She thought not, though her heart burned. However, she probably would never be given the choice - at twenty-seven she had yet to receive one eligible offer.

~

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the library of Fieldstone and braced himself for the sound of carriage wheels upon the sweep. Bingley had leased one of the estates they had visited in Warwickshire, and now his sisters were joining him. As much as Fitzwilliam wanted to return to Georgiana as soon as possible, he knew it would be uncivil to leave too promptly upon the arrival of Bingley's relatives. The eldest sister, Mrs Hurst, was married to a man of fashion who had the virtue of coming from a family of name, if not fortune. He was of a type all too common in every social circle - he enjoyed food, drink, and horses, and deplored rational conversation. His wife had married him for the prestige he brought her, and contented herself in assisting her younger sister to find an equally suitable match in the eyes of the fashionable world. Unfortunately for Fitzwilliam, Caroline Bingley had chosen him as her object.

Caroline was a beautiful and accomplished young lady, but she was as vain as she was proud, and she enjoyed belittling others in order to show her own abilities to better advantage. When she set herself a goal, she was zealous in the pursuit of it and Fitzwilliam often felt smothered by her excessive attention. It was for this reason that the crunch of wheels upon the drive made him cringe and lay down his book. He walked to the window, and looked upon the formal gardens that spread elegantly to the lawn. He would give himself a week and then he would return to Pemberley. He did not want to become trapped in Warwickshire by early December snows and be obliged to endure Caroline's company for an extended period of time.

He turned when the door opened, and hid behind the veneer of austerity that always descended when he found himself in social situations he preferred not to attend. Bingley recognised it immediately and gave him a rueful glance but made no other reference to his disappointment that his friend should feel uncomfortable in his family's presence. The Darcy he knew and loved was not the same man who showed a proud and distanced face to society, and on some occasions he almost felt like shaking him in frustration.

The thing that drew Caroline to Mr Darcy, besides his grand estate and riches, was his haughty demeanour. Here, she felt, was the perfect husband for her. He understood his place and was justified in all the pride he took in it. He was also the most handsome gentleman of her acquaintance, and she knew she would be the envy of the polite world if she could just capture his hand. She felt no concern at her lack of success so far; he was young and so was she - time was on their side. He was sought after by many, but had never showed the slightest inclination for one ladies' company over another. Caroline, as the sister of his dearest friend, felt she had a better chance than anyone of their acquaintance. With her beauty and accomplishments she was bound to make an impression if they were thrown together often enough. She was certain she was exactly what he was searching for - all she had to do was convince him of that fact.

"Mr Darcy!" she enthused as she drifted across the floor to greet him. "You cannot imagine our delight when we discovered Charles had taken an estate in the country, and in a neighbouring county to Derbyshire too. Everything looks very elegant, but of course you had a hand in the decision, so it is only to be expected. How is the society in these parts? Not too boorish, I hope?"

"You ask Darcy about the society?" scoffed Bingley. "You must know he has no interest in such things, but I can attest to it being as amiable as to be found anywhere. You will soon see for yourself, for there is to be an assembly."

Caroline gave Darcy a knowing look. "Country dances, how quaint!"

"He has taken quite a liking to such pleasant gatherings," said Bingley defensively.

Darcy looked at him quellingly from under lowered brows.

"I'm certain he has only been enduring them for your sake," said Caroline as she took Darcy's arm. "Now that we are here you no longer need to be subjected to such tedious displays." She smiled up at him in a way she thought exceedingly disarming. "We shall make our own company and have no need of outsiders."

"On the contrary," said Darcy, stiffly, endeavouring to unobtrusively slip from her grasp. "There is much to be said for a country assembly. You would find a very appreciative audience before which to display your most fashionable gowns."

"Well said, Darcy." Bingley turned to his sister. "You will be the hostess here at Fieldstone, Caroline, and I expect you will enjoy giving all manner of dinner parties."

Caroline chose not to take umbrage at Mr Darcy's words, and rather turned them into a compliment to herself. He noticed her sense of fashion and knew that she would be universally admired - could this not indicate that he was looking forward to seeing her in a ball gown, and dancing with her, if only for a country dance? She glowed when she finally responded. "I do have a number of very stunning new gowns. When I was fitted at the milliners everyone was quite ecstatic. I was afraid that I would have been wasting them here, but I see that I will be doing the young ladies of this community a service, giving them a model of perfect style to attempt to emulate. I may be able to raise the tone of their society as a whole."

Darcy had nothing to say to this piece of vanity, but Louisa Hurst joined her sister in agreement of the scheme and soon they were deep into a discussion of how they would bring a splash of London polish to this lowly corner of the world, and the respect and admiration they would gain for their efforts.

Mr Hurst then claimed Darcy's attention, enquiring as to the sport to be had so late in the season, and whether Bingley's cellars were amply stocked with fine port. Fitzwilliam gladly exchanged one banal conversation for the other and let Hurst ramble on about his matched pair of bays recently purchased from Tattershall's, which, though showy, had turned out to be not quite up to the rig and therefore was considering selling. His mind travelled further afield, as was customary during such conversations, wondering what county she was in right now. Was she as bored as he, in company equally superficial in its makeup, or was she part of a lively circle and had all thought of him been long pushed from her mind? He almost turned from Hurst to wander to the window and gaze absently out, but remembered just in time before he committed such a social solecism.

~

December brought great joy to Longbourn. Mrs Bennet had contrived to leave Jane and Mr Fairborn alone in the parlour one frosty morning while Mr Andrews, Lizzie and Kitty had gone out to meet Charlotte and Maria who were coming to visit, and by the time the shivering quintet had entered the house and divested themselves of their outer garments, congratulations were in order. Dinner that evening was a grand affair with Mrs Bennet outdoing herself with the amount of rich dishes offered and the praise she even more generously than usual bestowed on her daughter's intended.

Mr Bennet seemed pleased as well, and though he left the exclaiming to his wife, smiled softly and had a gentle expression in his eyes when they rested upon Jane.

That evening, Jane was finally alone with Lizzie and was able to share the feelings that swelled her heart.

"I am truly the happiest of girls," she said in her gentle voice, "to be able to give my family so much pleasure."

"What of yourself, and the pleasure you and Mr Fairborn will share?"

"Oh, Lizzie," said Jane, blushing nervously. "I believe Henry will be a very good husband."

"He has won you so he is extremely fortunate indeed. To love and be loved in return is a special thing, and I am so glad that you have finally found the man to make you happy."

"Yes . . . I believe we will be very happy."

"Jane! You do not have any doubts, do you?"

"No, of course not. I care for Henry more than any man I have known, and I believe he cares just as strongly for me."

"So what is it, dearest? You are a little hesitant."

"It is only . . . that I do not think I should leave you before you can be happy too."

"Jane, I long ago told you what would make me content and in marrying Mr Fairborn you are achieving that goal. Next will be the nephews and nieces you provide me."

Jane blushed again. "But I wish you the same happiness - could not Mr Andrews . . ."

Lizzie laughed. "Poor Mr Andrews, to have me continually thrown at his head. It will not do, you know. We are friends and that is the end of it for the both of us."

"While you two are single it is still possible to dream," said Jane, and then on even a more wistful note she continued. "Will you promise me one thing?"

"As long as it is not to marry Mr Andrews for you, I will promise anything."

"Do be serious, Lizzie. Will you come and live at Netherfield with Henry and me, after we return from our honeymoon?"

"Don't you think your husband will want you all to himself?"

"But I cannot leave you alone, knowing - knowing what you carry deep inside you. I mean, I do not know precisely . . . and I am not asking for any explanation . . . I just know there are times when you hurt . . . and I cannot bear to think of you alone at those times."

Tears came to Lizzie's eyes. "Jane, I am fine. I appreciate your concern, but I will not intrude on the privacy you and your husband deserve to share. I will visit often, but Longbourn will remain my home. Papa needs me, too, to provide some sensible conversation in the course of the day."

"Oh Lizzie," said Jane, hugging her closely, "I am being so very selfish."

"And so very foolish, to think you could ever be selfish! Tell me, Jane, is not the problem that you are a trifle nervous of marriage?"

"A very little," Jane admitted shyly.

"What has mother told you? No, do not answer; I do not expect you to tell me. I can see that she has made a mull of it. Believe me when I say there is nothing to worry about - nothing whatsoever. Mr Fairborn loves you and you love him; everything else will take care of itself."

Jane held Lizzie and accepted what she said without question. Somehow the confidence and gentleness with which Lizzie spoke held the essence of truth. Her apprehension dissipated, and if only she still was not concerned for her sister, her happiness would have been truly complete. Despite everything Lizzie had said, she continued to hold out the hope that one day she and Mr Andrews would marry. Jane did not doubt his love of her sister, and she hoped that in time, with them constantly being thrown together through the marriage of herself and his best friend, Lizzie would develop tender feelings for him. She went to sleep with this thought running through her head, rather than basking in the confirmation of her own future happiness.

Chapter 8

Posted on Wednesday, 3 September 2003, at 11:08 p.m.

"Georgiana, I have finally hired a new companion for you and now you may have your vacation in Ramsgate." Fitzwilliam leaned over to give his sister a hug and then took a seat beside her on the divan.

"What is she like?" asked Georgiana a little nervously.

"Don't worry, my sweet, she appears very amiable even though she comes on recommendation from Aunt Catherine. I am certain we will not discover Mrs Younge to be the ogre your governess turned out to be. You should have told me how much you disliked her."

"I did not want to cause you any trouble." Georgiana hugged her brother.

"I am heartily glad that I came upon her berating you. If you have any qualms about Mrs Younge, please let me know instantly. Nothing that I can do for your happiness is any trouble to me - do not forget that."

"Is she young and pretty?"

Fitzwilliam laughed. "She is old enough to be responsible, and she looks well enough - not formidable at all. She was dressed very respectably and spoke well. I believe you will find her to your liking."

"Oh, I will if you have chosen her. Can you not join us in Ramsgate?"

"I do not think so. Bingley needs me again."

"When will he decide on a place of his own? It has been ages; I was but eleven the first trip you made with him, and now I am fifteen! He only settled in Warwickshire for a year, and then decided it was not to his taste."

"His sister did not like it. If Bingley were left to himself he would have stayed forever. Between ourselves, I think Caroline was afraid he was about to make a most unsuitable match."

"Was Mr Bingley in love?" asked Georgiana with interest.

"Not any more so than usual. I don't believe he had any intentions of matrimony and found his sister's reaction quite surprising."

"And in which counties is he conducting his latest search?"

"Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, and Hertfordshire, though I don't believe Caroline will settle for anything less than Derbyshire and Pemberley."

"But that she wants for herself," said Georgiana with an arch look.

"Quite," said Fitzwilliam giving his sister an appraising glance. "You are becoming a little minx. Rest assured that the only way she will attain Pemberley is to reproduce it stone for stone, and we all know that to be just as impossible."

"She is not travelling with you and Mr Bingley, I hope?"

"Heavens forbid! No - if he discovers something to his liking, she will come and preside over the establishment until she ascertains that it is in no way suitable."

"Poor Mr Bingley - it would be better if he did get married."

"In my opinion, it would be much better if she were to marry, and leave off hounding me."

Georgiana laughed. "Have you hired lodgings for Mrs Younge and myself as yet?"

"Yes I have. I am told they have a wonderful view of the sea."

"Thank you. That is all I ever wanted. You are the best of brothers."

"And you are all I could wish for in a sister and more."

That evening as she readied for bed, Georgiana pondered these trips Fitzwilliam took every year with Mr Bingley. It was almost as if he looked forward to them as much as his friend. As the days closed to his departure, she could see the suppressed anticipation build within him, and upon his return his mood was always suffused with melancholy. He was twenty-five now, and never exhibited any interest in matrimony. She wondered if he would ever fall in love or if he would eventually marry Cousin Anne, as their aunt insisted, or worse yet, fall prey to the persistent Caroline. No - he would have to be desperate for either of those eventualities to take place. She wished fervently that he would find someone to love for she knew in her heart he needed more than just his little sister to sustain him. What if she were to marry?

~

Georgiana wandered on the beach, relishing the crisp breeze that blew upon her face. Mrs Younge was following a few paces behind. For the most part, Georgiana was quite pleased with her new companion. She could be rather jolly and entertaining but she was at times a little lax in her attentiveness. It was a great difference from her strict governess, and she told herself that she ought to be glad of it, yet she couldn't help but wonder if the freedom she was allowed was indeed proper. Suddenly discarding her worries, she decided to take advantage of the circumstances and, kicking off her slippers, lifted her skirts about her ankles and paddled in the waves. She was so enraptured by this activity that at first she did not notice that she had company.

"Miss Darcy what a great surprise, and even greater pleasure!"

The warm voice was familiar, and when Georgiana looked up she beheld a smiling face she knew she had seen before.

"Why you are . . . you visited me at Pemberley a few years ago." She blushed shyly.

"You remembered me this time! How that pleases my troubled heart."

"I would not forget you again, Mr Wickham. What brings you to Ramsgate?"

"I would like to say you, but I never indulge in false compliments. I completed my studies of the law and decided a vacation was in order - a very fortuitous decision brought me here to Ramsgate rather than Brighton or Sidmouth."

Georgiana looked down at her feet and became aware that her skirts were in danger of becoming wet. She noticed that her companion was standing in the surf as well. "Your boots!" she exclaimed.

He looked down and laughed as the waves raced over them. "The dangers of the seaside! It is of no import, but may I suggest you come out of the sea before your lovely gown is ruined?" He offered her his arm just as a particularly large wave splashed up and wetted her hem.

They raced up the beach together and then he settled Georgiana on a log and collected her slippers. All the while Mrs Younge kept her distance.

"Your shoes, milady," he said as he knelt at her feet.

"No, no - please give them to me and sit down properly. I can put them on myself." Georgiana blushed hotly.

"As you wish," said George Wickham, looking grieved. He sat down beside her and seemed to recover his composure. "I do apologise. I was forgetting you are no longer the little girl I once played with on Pemberley's grounds. No indeed - you have grown into a most beautiful young lady."

"That is quite all right," said Georgiana shyly. " I am happy to see you again, truly."

"And it was remiss of me not to ask after my dear friend, Fitzwilliam. I have not seen him these four years. I trust he is well."

"Very."

"Is he here with you in Ramsgate? I would so like to see him again."

"No, he is in the country with his friend, Mr Bingley. Are you acquainted with him?"

"Sadly, no, but I have heard he is a splendid gentleman. And whom are you staying with? Some relatives perhaps?"

"I am here with my companion, Mrs Younge. Would you like to meet her?"

"Very much," said George, standing and looking in the lady's direction. Mrs Younge took this as a cue to approach her young charge.

"Miss Darcy, I see you have found an acquaintance," she said as she reached the couple. "When the two of you met on the beach, I immediately surmised by your greeting that it was a close family friend, so I thought it best not to intrude."

Georgiana smiled. "Indeed you are correct. May I present to you Mr Wickham? He grew up at Pemberley with my brother and I have not seen him since I was a young girl."

"My, but how delightful. It is a pleasure to know you sir." She held out her hand.

"Likewise," said Wickham, bowing low over it. "Thank you for allowing me some moments with this charming young lady. I trust we will meet again soon."

"I do hope so," said Georgiana with a smile. She watched Mr Wickham as he walked down the beach, turning every so often to smile and wave. She had been feeling a mite lonely, but meeting him had cheered her considerably.

"A very handsome and dashing young man," commented Mrs Younge. "And he appears quite taken with you my dear."

Every time Georgiana and Mrs Younge walked upon the cob or down along the sands they chanced to meet Mt Wickham, who always joined them. He was an entertaining and considerate companion and she looked forward to the meetings with anticipation. It became so that she no longer thought of the beach or the library as her object for going out, but only a means for another opportunity to see Mr Wickham. Mrs Younge assured her that inviting him to dine with them was of the utmost propriety as he was such an old and valued family friend. Before long she did not need to go out to find him as he called every morning, and Mrs Younge had no scruples about leaving them on their own together for, in her words, he was almost a brother. In no time Georgiana was a fair way to falling in love.

~

Fitzwilliam was exhausted and disheartened. He had never before felt so close to giving up his search as he had this evening. Buckinghamshire had been a disaster, ill managed estates and insipid assemblies where even Bingley found nothing to tempt him. Bedfordshire was no better. The entire evening the orchestra had played off key. He removed his neck-cloth and threw it on the bed. The inn was worse than any he had stayed in yet. The bed had not been aired and the sheets were sure to be damp. The fire smoked. The window was so grimy that he threw away the handkerchief with which he had wiped it so that he could see the night sky.

He sat in the small embrasure and looked out at the stars - distant glowing spots of light that held a fascination for him. They were something that he knew, no matter how far apart they were, could be shared on any given night. He liked to believe that she was gazing out upon them just as he was at this very moment. That their sparks of light were reflected in her fine eyes. That her thoughts were with him. But the certainty that they would meet again - that he would be able to hold her once more and look into those eyes himself - that was diminishing. He saw ahead a life of unrelieved emptiness, and he gazed out upon the stars and prayed for something to save him from that fate. Tomorrow they were to go to Hertfordshire. Was it the county that held his destiny?

He heard the clatter of hooves and looked down to see a horse pull up in front of the hostelry. The bell over the door echoed resoundingly through the establishment. He heard running steps and then a sharp rap upon his door. He opened it and was handed an express, which he took over to the light to read. It was postmarked Ramsgate, and bore his Aunt Catherine's seal. With trepidation he ripped it open. It was not from Lady Catherine, but from his cousin, Anne.

FD

I do hope this finds you soon. I have today arrived with my mother to Ramsgate. This afternoon I noticed a man leaving your sister's lodgings. It was none other than Mr Wickham, your old steward's son. Mother knows nothing of this. Your presence is needed immediately.

AdB

Fitzwilliam crushed the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire. He grabbed his neck-cloth from the bed and quickly tied it under his chin. He threw what was unpacked into his portmanteau and drew on his greatcoat. Bingley appeared in the doorway.

"Have you received bad news? Is your sister . . ."

"Hopefully I will not be too late - no, do not look so shocked - it is not her health, but I must leave immediately. I will be unable to accompany you on your inspection of Netherfield."

"I will manage on my own. Your need is pressing - I wish you luck and Godspeed."

As Fitzwilliam hurried from the room, calling to the landlord for a horse, Charles' eyes followed after him with deep concern. He had never seen such a look of anger on his friend's face.

~

"Brother! This is unexpected - look who is . . ." Georgiana stopped in mid sentence as Fitzwilliam strode across the room to pull Wickham up off the settee by his lapels. "What are you doing?"

Darcy ignored his sister and gave George a shake. "Tell me that you have not compromised her in any way!"

"Darcy! So good to see you. I'm afraid there is some sort of misunderstanding."

"Then please enlighten me as to your presence in this establishment."

"I am paying court to your sister. Georgiana and I have fallen in love."

"It is true," said Georgiana, clutching at her brother. "Please don't hurt him - he has done no wrong. We are going to get married. I thought you would be pleased."

"Pleased?" Fitzwilliam looked at her in amazement.

"Yes, it was to be a surprise. George said we should run off to Scotland for Lady Catherine would frown on me marrying a steward's son, but that you had already given him your blessing."

"You think I would ever agree to give you to this scoundrel?"

"But . . . George said . . ." Georgiana looked around in confusion, tears streaming down her face.

"You have made my dearest one cry," said Wickham, reaching for Georgiana. "You are acting like a complete cad. We are to be married and there is nothing you can do to stop us."

"Do not touch her. There is no way in heaven you will ever marry Georgiana." Fitzwilliam drew his sister close to him and looked into her eyes. "He has imposed on you, dearest. He does not care for you - it is only your fortune he wants."

"But I . . . George said he loves me."

"And so I do, sweet thing," said Wickham, flashing Darcy a smug smile. "Your brother is just a trifle jealous and a little more than surprised. He will come around if you stand firm."

"But, you said you had gained his consent."

"Slight exaggeration on my part, Georgiana darling."

"Where is your companion, Mrs Younge?" Darcy asked of his sister.

"Dear Mrs Younge seems to have stepped out for a moment. She is always so very obliging," Wickham answered in Georgiana's stead, then he sat back on the settee and crossed his legs as he looked challengingly at Darcy.

"Why did Mrs Younge allow this? How did you and Wickham come to meet? He must have been a stranger to you - he left Pemberley when you were but five, and you could not have seen him since."

"But, remember brother? He visited four years ago and came up to see me in the school room. He said he would tell you all about it."

"I must have forgotten to inform him. There were other pressing matters that we discussed, love."

"Yes, money matters. Georgiana - he came to me for money and I made him a very generous settlement on the condition he never apply to me again. Last year he saw me in London and asked for more, which I refused. He became very angry and swore revenge, but I had no idea he would try to get back at me through you."

"I spoke in anger - I did not mean a word of it. You can't possibly believe such things of me, my love."

Georgiana looked back and forth between them. "I do not know what to believe, but I have never known Fitzwilliam to lie. If he does not like you he must have good reason." She hid her face in her hands.

"Dearest, I'm sorry to have involved you in such a scene. Please go up to your room while I deal with Wickham, then I will come to you."

"You will not hurt him?" she begged through her tears.

"I promise."

"No - stay - stay and support me," called Wickham, but she ran from the room, the door slamming behind her with finality.

Darcy stared at Wickham, his face white, his hands clenched. "I want nothing more to do with you. Leave this house now and count yourself lucky."

Wickham returned his glare. "I don't know how you discovered us, but a few more days and you could not have sent me away. I would have been your brother. A frightening thought, is it not? I have not finished with you yet - I will find another weakness to tap - you will see."

He left the house and it was only by sheer force of will that Fitzwilliam held himself back from exacting his anger from Wickham's hide.

Mrs Younge returned soon after and it did not take long for Fitzwilliam to discover she had been in league with Wickham from the outset. In half an hour she was gone from the house too. The rest of the night he spent in his sister's room as she cried in his arms. In the morning her tears were done but she was broken. Her honour was intact but her trusting heart was shattered - it was as crushing a violation as any physical transgression would have been. And Fitzwilliam shouldered all the burden of the blame. If not for his overwhelming desire to find the girl he would have been with Georgiana and Wickham could never have made her his prey. He should have taken more care in finding a companion for his sister, not blindly accepting the first applicant just because of her respectable appearance. If she was anything, Mrs Younge was a good actress, and she had deceived Fitzwilliam fully. He would not be so deceived again. He would never, ever leave Georgiana alone. There would be no more trips with Bingley, no more country assemblies - all he would ever share with her would be the stars. Georgiana would be first and foremost in his heart.

~

Bingley arrived at the door of Netherfield to have it open before he could knock. He was faced with a genial looking gentleman only a few years older than himself.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, but I was under the impression that this estate was to let. I was supposed to meet the agent in the drive, but . . ."

"Mr Bingley, is it? Yes, I let Stevens go, as we decided on one more week in the country - my wife's family, you know, pressing engagements - that sort of thing. I thought I could show you about myself - that would be much more congenial. My name is Fairborn. Do come in."

"Very pleased to meet you. My friend was to join me, but he was called away on business."

Bingley entered the hall, thinking how affable his host was when suddenly his attention was arrested by a vision coming down the stairs. She was the loveliest lady he had ever seen, dressed in the palest blue with a shawl flowing from her elegant shoulders. She looked like an angel, with a cherub on either side of her, also in that same ethereal blue. He stood still, open mouthed in amazement.

As Jane descended the stairs with Lily and Rose on either side, she noticed that the door was open and someone was standing beside her husband in the entrance. He was almost silhouetted against the afternoon sunshine that streamed in through the archway. Sunlight glinted amidst golden curls. His face was radiant. He looked like a god. She almost stumbled, and to hide her embarrassment picked up Rose and held her in her arms.

"My Dear, please come and meet Mr Bingley. He's interested in leasing Netherfield. Mr Bingley, this is my wife, Mrs Fairborn, and our two daughters, Lily and Rose."

"A pleasure," was all Bingley could manage to say.

"I hope you will excuse me," said Jane with an attempt at composure, "but I promised to take the girls into the garden." With that she smiled and was gone, moving with grace through a parlour door.

"That is the easiest way to the gardens," said Mr Fairborn. "We must go out on a tour ourselves, but first I would like you to meet my guests. Come this way - they are in the drawing room."

Bingley followed him gladly. He needed a distraction. It was not good to have such thoughts about another man's wife. She was everything that was perfection and she was completely out of reach.

Mr Fairborn suddenly stopped by a door and held it open. "First let me show you the library. There is an amazing collection of books in here. And then we'll look into the billiard room - maybe you would even fancy a game?"

Bingley stepped forward and entered the room, feigning great interest in all the leather-bound tomes, opening them and reading short passages, anything to clear his head of the image that would not leave it. He hoped fervently that his host could not read minds.

In the drawing room, Letitia Fairborn paced restlessly. The two other inhabitants of the room sat quietly reading, and she was suffering from boredom.

"I thought to be in London by now."

Mr Andrews looked up from his book. He hadn't been able to read it anyway - there was a great deal pressing on his mind. He had finally come to an important decision, and if only his friend's sister would leave him alone with Elizabeth, he would do something about it. "If you have such a need to walk, why don't you go out of doors?"

"Oh, you are so insufferable! I see no suggestion of joining me. The both of you would much rather read your books than entertain me."

Lizzie looked up from the page she was reading. "I offered to walk with you not a half hour ago, but you declined. If you really want to walk, I am more than willing . . ." She was in the process of putting her book down and rising from her chair when Letitia interrupted her.

"There is no need. I see Jane outside with the girls and I will join them." She shot Mr Andrews a dark look. "Thank you for your consideration."

As soon as the French doors closed behind her, Lizzie let out a giggle. "You are so disobliging, Mr Andrews!"

"It is time she knew where my interest lies, and it is not with her." Mr Andrews voice was very serious.

Lizzie looked over at him and her heart fluttered. Oh, no. He was not finally going to come to the point after all these years was he? She had hoped that he understood her better than that. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him pain.

Mr Andrews came and sat beside her. "Elizabeth," he said as he took her hand. "You have no objection to me calling you that, have you?"

"We are such dear friends and have known each other for so long, I cannot," she said, smiling warmly.

"Elizabeth, do not speak of friendship - you must know - I have so much hope for us. I know you do not love me with the same depth of feeling as I love you, or I would have asked you this question years ago, but I cannot leave you again and go off to London without . . . without even trying to make you mine. I would endeavour to be the best of husbands and I would be so proud and happy to have you for my wife."

Lizzie put her hand up to still his lips. "Hush. Please do not say any more. I will always cherish your friendship, but I can never marry you."

"Why never? How can you be so positive? I thought with time you would come to care for me well enough."

"I do. I care for you very much. Aside from Jane, papa, Charlotte, and . . . you are one of my favourite people - I will always want you in my life."

"And who, Elizabeth, and who?" There was anguish in his voice. Lizzie hung her head but would not speak. "I will not press you. If all I can have is your friendship, I will gladly accept it - but you must know that I want something more, and that cannot change. Until you are married to another I will not give up hope."

"I will never marry," said Lizzie, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Don't cry," he said, taking out his handkerchief and drying her eyes. "I did not mean to hurt you."

"It is I who have hurt you," said Lizzie, "and I am heartily sorry for it. If it was in my power to make you happy, I would - but I do not love you in that way, and I could not marry you unless I did. It would never work." She did not add that even if she did not love another, even if she did truly love him, she could still not marry him. She had lost her virtue and was in no position to marry anyone - not even . . . but she would not think of him now. That would be even more unfair to Mr Andrews.

She allowed him to hold her in his arms for a few minutes to give her comfort - so he could derive what comfort he could for himself. She felt nothing but his warmth and presence. Nothing. It was as if she were being held by Jane, or her father. "You must stop thinking of me, and fall in love with another. You deserve to marry," she said as she slowly eased herself from his arms.

He looked at her and smiled. He wanted to say, 'I will never stop loving you,' but to what purpose? He had said his bit and been unsuccessful. Deep down he had always known the result. Somehow, sometime, somewhere, someone had won her heart and still kept it, unrequited. It was a pain he could well understand. He hoped now that she would not feel awkward in his presence, worry that he would attempt to forward his suit whenever they were alone. "If ever you should change your mind, you would just have to say a word - I will not bother you with this subject again."

Lizzie looked up and smiled her thanks. She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. At that moment the door opened and her brother walked in with a young gentleman in tow.

"I have not interrupted anything, have I?" he asked as Lizzie and Mr Andrews quickly jumped apart and stood up.

"Oh, no. Not at all," Lizzie assured him as she came forward to be introduced.

Bingley held out his hand and met the two new people with his usual charm. It was apparent that they had indeed interrupted something. He had noticed that the gentleman and lady were holding hands when he had come in. Miss Bennet turned out to be the sister of the angel that he had seen earlier in the visit. She was not as pretty, but he had to admit that her eyes held his interest for quite some time. He wondered what Darcy would have made of her. Too bad that his friend had been called away for a family crisis.

After the tour of the house, Bingley declined viewing the gardens and the rest of the estate. Although it wasn't quite true, he told Fairborn that he was certain it would not suit his sister who was very exacting in her specifications. In reality he did not want to chance another sighting of Mrs Fairborn. He had never had his strength of character tested as strongly before in his life because he knew deep down that the thing he desired more than anything was to gaze upon her lovely face again.

When Jane came in from the garden she was both disappointed and relieved that their guest was gone. That night she found falling asleep very difficult. She could not understand how as contented a wife as herself could feel such a strong attraction to another man. Whenever she closed her eyes she could see his face, lit by the sun, so she forced them open. Then, of course, she kept imagining his figure printed up upon the canopy of her bed.

Chapter 9

Posted on Sunday, 7 September 2003, at 3:35 p.m.

The next morning Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived at the lodgings in Ramsgate and sought private discourse with Darcy. "I have dealt with him and he is gone," finished Darcy after he had explained the situation to his cousin.

"You just let him go? I would have had him horsewhipped!"

"It took a great deal of forbearance, but that is what Georgiana wished."

"She also wished to marry him!" cried the colonel, grasping up his riding crop and slashing it through the air. "I wonder you did not grant her that wish too."

Darcy's face went livid. "I cannot expect you to understand - I did not act out of weakness. I refuse to add to Georgiana's suffering. Now is not the time for vengeance - instead, I must protect my sister and restore her faith in the world. I hold myself completely accountable for what transpired here in Ramsgate. The fault is mine, and mine alone, and I shall remedy it as best I can."

"You will have to deal with the old crow and her caged sparrow. It was upon Anne's information that I came."

"I too, but she assured me that Lady Catherine knows nothing."

"Has she ever acted not in accordance with her mother?"

"Yes, I believe she has," said Darcy slowly. "She once managed to interrupt an inquisition with a fainting spell. She is deeper than you think."

"She took your side against her mother?" The colonel appeared dumbfounded.

"Unobtrusively. There was no suspicion at all. But she did it for her own purposes, not out of any sympathy for me."

"Can you be sure of that? She has just protected your sister from scandal - she must have the family honour at heart."

"Yes, she did, but I can't shake the feeling that she hopes to gain something from this."

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood still for one long silent moment, his eyes not leaving the younger man's face. "Then it can only be one thing."

Darcy looked back, an expression of desolation in his eyes. "And I shall have to grant it her."

~

"You see what danger you have placed your sister in," said Anne, her voice level and calm.

"I do not need to be told of it - I know only too well that I am at fault." The response was wrung out of him. He turned his face away from her candid stare.

"There is no need to take on so. I only want you to accept that it is time to end this foolish quest of yours."

Darcy brought his head back around and looked deep onto her grey eyes. "Do you see everything from your glass tower?"

"Anything about you I make my concern. I have watched you tear your heart to shreds over that girl all these years. She is gone from your life - you cannot change that. It is more than likely she is married now, with a happy home somewhere in the country and a troupe of growing children. She could be gone to fat and beleaguering her husband. She could be dead. You need to give up this fantasy and get on with your life. You are all that Georgiana has, and it has been made pitifully clear that you are not doing your best by her while you are consumed with this overriding need to search for some unknown woman. I don't mean to be harsh, and I don't mean to be cruel, but you must face facts."

"I have spent the last forty-eight hours doing nothing but."

"Then I think you will agree with me when I say that you must marry. Your wife will give Georgiana the companion she needs. And as you cannot possibly marry for love, it would be best that you not marry a lady who would expect love in return. You need someone who will want to take Georgiana in hand and will benefit from the match just as much as you."

"What would you stand to gain by marrying me?"

Anne's gaze did not falter. "I see we understand each other. Your fortune, of course, holds no interest for me. My mother has set her heart on the match, and would refuse any other offer for my hand, though who would offer for me, I have no idea. Even the most hardened fortune hunter could not possibly know of my existence, and anyway, I have no wish to buy a husband. I want to be taken from Rosings and my mother. I want a husband who will not spend his time philandering, entertaining trollops with my money. I want to marry a man of honour and integrity. I made my decision to marry you a long, long time ago. I have always been confident that circumstances would fall my way, and as you see, they have."

Darcy thought of all he had desired and looked forward to in life. The dream of again finding the girl he had met nine years ago. The one person he had given himself to - body, heart, and soul. He watched all his hopes crumble to dust, become as grains of sand on some lonely shore to be washed away by the tide. Irreclaimable. He had never any desire to marry Anne, but he could see no other alternative if he were to make up for his neglect of Georgiana. At least, married to Anne, there would be no expectation of something he could not give. Marriage to anybody else would be a union of deceit. Here, everything was out in the open. And if he could not marry her, it may as well be Anne as anyone.

"Is there anything else you would want from me but the freedom you so desire?"

"There is one small thing."

"Name it, and then let us go and inform your mother of the joyous news," said Darcy in resignation.

"I would like a child."

~

"Are you certain you are willing to go through with this?" It was the colonel who spoke, but both he and Bingley stared at Darcy in appeal.

"I have had six months to think about it and my mind is unchanged."

"But what if you were to finally meet your dream girl tomorrow?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam gave Bingley a scornful look. "He is well out of that fairy tale. How an otherwise sensible man like you could have encouraged him there, I have no idea. You did him no service."

"And your idea of entertaining barques of frailty was a better solution?" asked Darcy bitterly.

"It would have cured you of your illusions," said his cousin. "And then you might have set your mind to finding a wife among the beauties of the season rather than shackling yourself to our wraith of a cousin."

"That would never have happened. I am going through this marriage for Georgiana's sake alone - if it were not for how I failed her, I would never marry at all. Unless . . . but it is useless to think of that any more. Come, it is my wedding day - let us make the best of it."

"At least join us in a drink," entreated Colonel Fitzwilliam as he poured three tumblers full of brandy. "You will need it to face your bride."

"I expect a long marriage ahead of me - I will have to face it without pot valiance."

"You are right cousin, or you would be drunk every day of your life!" He threw back his drink and then also the one he had poured for Darcy.

Bingley sipped his slowly and looked at his friend with regret. 'If there were any other way,' he thought, but he could come up with nothing. The church was already filling with guests. He felt only the deepest sympathy for Darcy who was sacrificing so much. He had taken on more blame than necessary for what had happened to his sister. Bingley had never witnessed any neglect on his friend's part. A more caring and loving brother he had yet to meet. But nothing he had said to Darcy could convince him otherwise. Today was a sad day indeed. It would be a wedding at which there was every reason to cry.

~

Lizzie leaned forward to catch the view from her coach window - it was a thing she would never tire of. The thought brought back a memory. Had not she, ten years earlier, felt that same interest in what lay beyond her windowpane? In Kent. Yes, and then she had seen a rider. There was no rider now, though she was driving through the best hunting country in all the land. She strove to drag her thoughts from memories of him, to keep her eyes from searching the rolling meadow. But what she needed to think on brought little to ease any pain she may be feeling. Her concern for Jane flooded back, and she was no longer content to peer from the window. Instead she wished the horses to run faster, the wheels to roll quicker. Jane needed her.

It was late in the day when the coach finally pulled to by the wide entranceway to Litchford House; the light had almost gone and the sky was a wan grey. Jane came out on the steps to meet Lizzie, her black crepe drawing off what little colour was left in her face. She smiled a strained smile and held her arms wide.

"Lizzie, oh Lizzie. You are finally here."

"Yes Jane dearest and I will not leave you," cried Lizzie as she ran up the stairs to her sister. She pulled Jane into a warm embrace and hugged her close. She felt as light and frail as a bird in her arms. "How are Lily and Rose?"

"They do not understand. They call for their papa and he does not come. They are too young to be without a father."

"Is anybody still here with you?"

"They have all gone this morning. Letitia was wild to leave. She said she could not bear to be in her brother's home without him. Mr Andrews wanted to await your arrival, but I told him I would be fine until you arrived. He accompanied Letitia and Prudence back to town. He has been so good and kind to me, as has everyone, but he more so than the rest."

Lizzie smiled as she thought of her friend. Of course he would do his utmost to support Jane and Henry's sisters, even though he himself must be crushed from losing his closest friend. As much as she cared for him, she was glad that he was gone. She didn't want to see the look in his eyes that she could do nothing to mend. "Let us go inside. I don't believe you have eaten anything since the accident - you are nothing more than bones."

"I have tried to eat, Lizzie, but I have no appetite."

"You need to eat for your girls, and you will now that I am here to care for you."

"Oh Lizzie! I have longed for you so."

Lizzie led her sister to the drawing room of the home she had lived in for a little short of a year. The young family had left Netherfield to fulfil Mr Fairborn's dearest wish and settle in the East Midlands, where a newer form of foxhunting was in practice. The race with the hounds was fast and furious, fences taken at a neck or nothing pace, and it was in his favourite pursuit that Henry Fairborn had come to grief. His mettle on the field was held in great respect by all his fellows, but that was of no consolation to his young widow, or his two darling daughters.

That evening, after visiting with the little girls and convincing Jane to eat something sustaining, Lizzie and her sister sat in Jane's large bed and talked half the night. This practice continued the following nights and soon became their standard routine. Lizzie had expected to have to console a sister who had lost the one she loved the most - to try to rebuild from a point of emptiness that was even deeper than what Lizzie had suffered herself - for though she had lost her love, she still had hope; but for Jane there was nothing. She was surprised to learn that this was not the case. In their second week together, Jane made a deep confession, one that both startled Lizzie, and gave her cause to feel that Jane would survive much better than she had herself.

"Lizzie, I cannot have you continue labouring under a false impression. My loss is great, but not so great as you would think. My suffering is more for my children than for myself. Do not think me devoid of feeling. I have a great regard for Henry, and am bitterly saddened by his death - I would have never wished it for the world."

"Of course not, Jane. I would never think that of you. You have the most tender heart of anyone I know."

"Yet, how do I tell you that my heart is not completely broken, that I believe I will recover in time and hope to find love again, without you thinking me callous?"

"That is only right, Jane - for you deserve happiness - but I had always thought you deeply in love."

"I thought I was too . . . that is to say, I was unsure, but I hoped. I was twenty-two. Everyone was expecting me to make a fine match. Mama was worried about losing Longbourn when papa eventually died. You were certain that I was in love, Mr Fairborn was so attentive - everything seemed as though it was meant to be. Do not mistake me - Henry was a good husband. He was always kind and considerate. He treated me fairly and with fond regard, but I think that after we were both married for a year we realised that our love was not of the deepest kind. I never felt completely . . . comfortable with my wifely duties, and it pained me that I had failed my husband in some way, but he was never one to complain. After Rose was born, we suspended intimacies altogether. I know that he remained faithful to me in deed, as I did to him, but I do believe he was unfaithful in thought. He enjoyed the attention of pretty women, but he was nothing if not discreet. And now I must say something that will greatly shock you. I have also felt an attraction for another gentleman. I don't know if it was a trick of the light or something in his smile, but the sight of him filled me with warmth and with a certain amount of fear at the same time. I saw him only the once, and yet, in this past year I have thought of him often. It might have been because I was lonely here in this new place . . . or it could have been some other reason, but I do know that I was not fully in love with my own husband. If I loved Henry to distraction, I'm certain there is no way another gentleman could have made such an impression on me."

"Oh Jane," cried Lizzie, not knowing what to say. "To think that I pushed you . . . when I only wanted . . . I was blind and thoughtless." Too caught up in my own emotions. Too tortured by my own lost love to see your feelings for what they truly were. "I did you a great disservice."

"No Lizzie, you did not. I have been very content - I am certain I have been happier than most, for how many people really find their own true love? I believe love is a very illusive thing. If I hadn't married, I would not have my two dear daughters. I regret nothing. I would have lived contentedly with Henry to the end of my days. But now I have a second chance, and I will try and be sure this time. But I wonder, how does one know if one is truly in love?"

How does one know? For Lizzie it had happened in a blinding flash, and she still did not question it ten years later. "Jane you feel it with all your being - there is no room for doubt."

"Thank you Lizzie. I know it is not easy for you to talk about."

"I am sorry to have never told you about it, Jane, but I . . . I suppose I did not act wisely in the situation, and I did not want you to think ill of me." Lizzie turned her head and looked toward the window. She had never mentioned him to anyone other than Charlotte - and even to Charlotte she had said only that she loved someone, and nothing more.

"You need tell me nothing Lizzie, but you know I could never think ill of you."

Jane's voice was full of loving warmth, and Lizzie knew she owed Jane more than she had ever given away before. "In this instance you would, believe me. I . . . I did meet someone all those years ago, and we both . . . we both knew it was love even then, at that young age, even though we knew nothing of each other. But naught in life is that simple. He was willing to marry me - but under the circumstances I could not expect it of him. I left - and I did not even tell him my name, or learn his own. If I could go back and change one thing, the only thing I would change is to know his name. All these years and the only name I have to call him by is Love."

In the dim candlelight Jane looked at her sister and knew what she was not telling her - what she could never bring herself to tell her - and she could not fault her for it. She understood that what had happened meant more to Lizzie than anything she had ever experienced. She felt compassion for the pain she had suffered, love for her damaged soul. Jane stroked Lizzie's hair gently, putting it back behind her ears and looking deep into her eyes. She said the only thing that she could. "One day you will find him."

"And you will find your own love too," said Lizzie with conviction.

Chapter 10

Posted on Wednesday, 10 September 2003, at 9:13 a.m.

Lizzie was pleased that Jane had consented to return with her to Longbourn. In her old home, in the heart of her family, Jane bloomed once again. Lily and Rose no longer clung to their mother but spent time with their various aunts and grandma who doted on them madly. But the thing that the two loved most, especially little Rose, was to sit on their grandpa's lap while he read to them. And if anyone noticed the look of tender regard in his eyes as he gazed upon them, they would have realised that he found as much pleasure in the arrangement as they did. "Come to me, my little flowers," he would say, holding his arms wide, as they peeked around his study door - and they would run to him and perch upon his knees.

Litchford House was to be let. Jane had been willing to go to London and discuss the particulars with her late husband's man of business, but Mr Andrews begged to be allowed to perform the service. He had been named an executor in the will and felt a responsibility to the young widow and her two sweet daughters. The little girls saw him as a favourite uncle, though no such relationship existed, but he encouraged the sentiment, not only out of his feeling for them, but his knowledge that a close connection with the family would keep him in contact with Elizabeth. Though he knew there was little hope he could not yet give her up.

It was with Mr Andrews in her thoughts that Lizzie set out on her walk to Lucas Lodge and Charlotte, whom she had not seen in some time. It had always been her wish for her two friends to marry and she sighed at the capriciousness of fate that had led him to fall in love with her instead. Charlotte was now thirty-two and remained unmarried, and though she often spoke of marrying for practical purposes and not love, Lizzie was certain that she had spurned one or two very eligible suitors in the last few years. It seemed love had an effect on her after all. Lizzie still hoped to bring the two together but had no idea how she would induce Mr Andrews to transfer his affections to her friend. She had thrown them in each other's paths often enough and while Mr Andrews had a great regard for Charlotte and talked with her in a most companionable way he remained frustratingly loyal to Lizzie herself.

Charlotte was in the garden picking the last blooms of the season and looked up as Lizzie arrived.

"If you had not called on me so early, I would have been the one walking through your gate in another hour or so. How fares Jane?"

"She gains strength and brightness with every day."

"Poor dear, to lose her husband so early in marriage and when they were so in love as well."

Though Lizzie shared most everything with her closest friend, she honoured Jane's confidences and replied with a wry smile. "There are no guarantees in life, it seems."

"No there are not. I have come to a momentous decision myself and would dearly like your opinion on it."

"Though my opinion will not change your mind if it differs from your own," replied Lizzie in her teasing manner.

"Yes," Charlotte answered with a ready smile, "but I do hope that your feelings on the matter are in accordance with mine."

Lizzie smiled and encouraged her to go on.

"As you know I am well beyond a marriageable age. I do not intend to live as a dependant of one of my family for the rest of my days. I have taken up a post as governess with a family that is a connection of my mother's. They live in Sussex and have three daughters that will be in my charge. The eldest does not come out for two years. I believe that my considerable experience with my own siblings will make me well able to subdue their giddy childishness and instil more genteel and elegant behaviour."

"Not only that. I'm certain they will benefit from your great storehouse of practical knowledge. Oh Charlotte! You will be gone so far from me. Lucky, lucky girls to have you all to themselves." Lizzie's heart plummeted, but she dared not show her friend what she was truly feeling. They had a long discussion before joining Lady Lucas and Maria in the drawing room. Lady Lucas was much more interested in telling Lizzie the details of Maria's courtship with a gentleman farmer from a neighbouring district than dwelling on what she looked upon as the failure of her eldest daughter.

It wasn't until she was walking home that Lizzie allowed free rein to the strength of emotion that had built up inside of her. Not only were all her dreams for Charlotte and Mr Andrews crumbling down around her ears, but all her dreams for herself. She was twenty-five. It was only a matter of time before she would be forced to take just such a step. Unless, somehow, somewhere she were to meet him again. And tied here as she was to Longbourn how was that ever to happen? In ten years he had never come her way. There was still hope in her visits to the Gardiners. In a week she was to join them again, and not only would they stop for a fortnight in London, but they were taking her on a tour of the Lake District. It was only the thought of this trip that kept her from descending into a pit of gloom.

Lizzie slipped into the house quietly and intended to seek some solitude in the library when she was arrested by her mother's strident tones coming from the parlour. Mrs Bennet was holding forth on one of her favourite topics, a complaint she canvassed again and again, but this time she voiced a resolution that directly affected Lizzie. To hear that she was to be denied her one consolation threw Lizzie into a state of upheaval. Anger, disappointment, frustration and resentment battled within, and she had to take a moment to school her features before she grasped the door handle and calmly entered the room.

"You shall go in her stead, Kitty, and make the most of your opportunity. I have given up on Lizzie completely."

"Mama," said Lizzie, "what are you speaking of?"

"I have decided that Kitty shall join your aunt and uncle on this holiday rather than you. You have been invited many more times than she, but you have gained nothing from the experience. Kitty deserves a chance to come out of your shadow."

"And what is it I was supposed to gain by visiting Aunt and Uncle Gardiner that I have not?"

"Oh Lord, Lizzie!" cried Lydia. "A husband, of course. You have mama quite distracted with your ungrateful behaviour." She giggled.

"To have five grown daughters and only one of them married!" Mrs Bennet reached for her salts. "I never would have thought it, especially after Jane made such a good match. I was certain you girls would be thrown into the path of other rich men and I would see you all pleasantly settled within a twelvemonth. Mr Andrews! I cannot think of him without bursting into tears. So eligible - so rich - and you ought to have caught him, Lizzie. Five years forever in his company all come to nothing! I am sure you will end an old maid! And the rest of you girls have fared no better."

"But mama," interposed Mary, "I have a young man who calls on me regularly."

"Nothing but a clerk of your Uncle Phillips! Oh - do not look at me so with that pained expression, Mary. He will do well enough for you. But the other girls are all so pretty - it is such a shame. Lydia, I had expected you to marry quite young for you took so well and are by far the liveliest."

"Mama! I am not ready to tie myself down to one gentleman, unless, of course, he were rich enough to give me all the pin money I desire, and jewels, and a house in London. I do so enjoy flirting with all the officers. Do you know that Denny and Sanderson are quite at outs with each other over me? It makes me laugh so to see them sulk and frown. They are such fools for I don't care a fig about either of them - but it is such good sport. I don't know why Mr Andrews never looked at me for I should not have rejected him. Though he is so very boring, he is handsome and has a great fortune. What a pity Mr Fairborn did not invite other rich friends to stay - and then he would go and die before any of the rest of us had a chance to stay with Jane at her house in London. But you could open it up now, could you not Jane? We could have ever so much fun, all us girls together."

"Lydia!" Lizzie looked at her in shock. The colour had drained from Jane's face and she seemed on the point of collapse. Lizzie rushed to her and held her hands.

"Did I say something I ought not?" asked Lydia contritely. "I am so very sorry, dear Jane. I was not thinking. Of course you cannot entertain in London while you are still in mourning. We shall do it next year." She turned to her mother and eagerly continued without another thought for Jane. "I don't know why you say Kitty should go to London and the Lakes. I should very much like to go, and if I were to meet a rich gentleman on our travels I would be sure to capture him."

"No, it is my turn!" cried Kitty. "Mama says. You have all the officers dangling after you, and anyway I do not want a paltry fellow like Sanderson either. I deserve a chance to find a husband on my own without you anywhere near to steal him from me."

"Oho! You are still cross because Sanderson shifted his attention to me!"

"Girls! That will do," shrieked Mrs Bennet. "Have mercy on my poor nerves. I have decided it shall be Kitty and that is final."

"Do not our aunt and uncle have any choice in the matter?" asked Lizzie. "It was their invitation to me, after all."

"I do not see how it can signify to them which of you girls they take. I will simply tell them that you cannot leave Jane in her time of need." She turned to Kitty and immediately became more animated. "We must hurry to Meryton to buy some trimmings for your gowns, and a new hat I should think - and you may borrow Lizzie's green pelisse. We will have it taken in. Lydia, you may come too. Sister Phillips tells me there is a new shipment of Spanish lace at the milliners. Hurry and get ready while I ask Mr Bennet if we can have the horses."

Lizzie watched her mother and two sisters leave the room with no small amount of relief. At least now Jane would be free of their insensitive conversation. Mary already had her nose deep onto the covers of her book and may as well not have even been there.

"Are you all right, dearest?" Lizzie asked Jane.

"I do wish you were able to go on your trip," sighed Jane. "You have been looking forward to it for so long."

"I would much prefer being with you and keeping you happy," whispered Lizzie sincerely. It was the one thing her mother had said that held any validity. She could not leave Jane. As much as the little girls were entertained in the house, the only family member who really gave Jane the comfort and care that she needed was herself. She willingly put aside her own disappointment and the hopes she had built up for the trip and gave all her thought over to Jane. They were vain hopes anyway. The chances of seeing him again on this trip were no greater than those of any other she had taken with her relatives in the past. Some things in life were meant to be. Others were not.

The next week when Mr and Mrs Gardiner arrived it was discovered that they were not to go to the Lake District after all. Their trip had to be curtailed so instead they were only to tour Derbyshire and visit the village of Lambton in particular, the place where Mrs Gardiner had spent her youth.

~

Mrs Reynolds opened the door to her master's study and cast a sympathetic eye on the scene before her. He was gazing into the fire as she oft found him, a distant look in his eyes. She softly walked up to his side before he was even aware of her presence. She touched him reassuringly on the shoulder. "The doctor has gone and the mistress would like to see you now."

She could never bring herself to refer to Anne Darcy as your wife. To Mrs Reynolds it did not seem at all right. She was not the woman for Mr Darcy, Fitzwilliam as she called him in her heart of hearts. She had been in the Darcy household for all her adult life and had seen him grow from a baby to a sunny happy child to a young man who had more than his share of pain and responsibilities to bear. She understood his need to marry his cousin, but that did not mean that she had not wished something better for him.

Fitzwilliam looked up and thanked her softly and then slowly rose from his chair and left the room. She gazed after him thoughtfully, hoping that the news would be good.

After a gentle rap on Anne's bedchamber door and her clear invitation to come in, Fitzwilliam entered the airy compartment. She had done little to change it in her few months of residence. It was decorated with the same light hangings that his mother had used. Flowers from the conservatory filled large bowls on the bureau and low table, loosing their fragrance throughout the room. The windows were open and the gauze of the curtains fluttered and shifted in the background. Anne was stretched out on a divan, looking otherworldly in a filmy white robe.

"You will no doubt be glad to hear that I am with child," she said as he took a seat across from her.

"I am most pleased."

"Of course you are, now you no longer have to perform your husbandly function. You must be feeling no small amount of relief by now."

Fitzwilliam only nodded his head. He still had difficulty facing his cousin's candour. There were things he would rather not speak of at all. "I am happy you have got what you wanted and our agreement is fulfilled," was all he said.

"I am with child, but it remains to be seen if I can carry it full term. I may yet need your services again. Do not look so dismayed. The doctor has said that if I follow all his advice there should be no danger of losing the child. Now I wish that I had requested two, for I had not anticipated conceiving quite so early, and will miss our intimacies. I see I have shocked you again - or is it more fright than shock? I would have preferred a more willing lover, but then it would not have been you, so I have no complaints. I see you are longing for a change of subject. My dear husband, I assure you this is what married people often talk about - but then it was not what you had bargained for, was it?"

"Children generally result from marriage; I should not have been surprised that it was an expectation of yours. And I cannot fault you in your treatment of Georgiana. You have provided her with companionship and showed her every kindness. I know you will care for your own child even more so, and I will love the child too, for it is also mine and will possibly even be my heir."

"And yet you say that with such sadness, because it is not hers." It was said without resentment or spite, just a matter of fact statement as if she were discussing the weather.

Fitzwilliam bit back the tears. How well she knew him - sometimes it was almost frightening. Everything she had said was true. When he heard she was with child, relief had coursed through him - not relief at the blessing of new life, but relief that he would not have to share Anne's bedchamber again. It was not something he had counted on when he had first agreed to the marriage. When Anne had hit him with that request his senses reeled, but she had timed it well - he had already pledged his word. The idea of being intimate with anyone other than her was truly abhorrent to him. He felt that he was violating the love they had shared, and this feeling never left him throughout those sessions. He performed a purely mechanical act, devoid of any feeling, his mind blank and disinterested. He was aware that Anne responded differently. At first he thought the pleasure she derived was only due to her hopes of the outcome, but in her most unguarded moments he realised that she was taking pleasure from the closeness to him. This appalled him even more than anything else. The only thing that eased his spirit about the whole affair was that, though he had done what he saw as his duty and fulfilled his promise to Anne, he had remained completely faithful to his love in his heart and in his mind where it counted the most.

Anne looked at him for a long time, realising that he had drifted from her again, as always happened when they were together. She could never keep his attention, especially during the intimacies they had shared. At first she had considered that he let his thoughts fill with that woman at those times, but later she came to realise what strength of character he truly possessed. He would never sully her memory in such a way. Anne wished it were otherwise for if he had he might have given himself over to abandon and fulfilled her need to a much greater extent. As it was, those days were over for her, and all she had left was the memory of the bliss she had stolen from the encounters.

"You must think me pitiful to have enjoyed something that was given most unwillingly."

"I do not pity you, Anne, I just do not understand you."

"It is only a very basic need for fulfilment that is all too human. In this child I hope to finally have someone who will love me for myself, with no conditions placed upon the giving or receiving of love. After the baby is born, I want you to know that I would be more than willing to welcome you back to our marriage bed, if you should ever desire it."

"That would go beyond what I feel duty to dictate," said Fitzwilliam carefully, looking away from her.

"It is the answer I expected. You would have let me down if you had responded differently. You may go now - I know you have long wanted release from this interview."

Fitzwilliam turned back to her, and as he rose from his chair to leave he said, "I do wish you well."

"I know. You are just awkward with my candour. Do not worry - tomorrow we will be back to speaking of books and music and the beauties of the countryside and you may be at your ease again." As she watched him go, admiring his tall, lean body that moved with such grace even in embarrassment, she wondered again what it was about him that attracted her so. He had never shown the slightest interest in her. She knew she did not love him, but she desired him more than anything she had ever known - almost as much as the baby she had finally conceived. And even though she did not have his heart or his mind she had him, and she felt victorious over that nameless girl who could never possess him now. Nameless to him, that is. There were many things that Anne knew that he did not, and never would if she had any control over the matter.

~

Fitzwilliam left the private chambers of the house deep in thought. He needed to get out into the meadows where he could feel the wind on his head, breathe the pure, unscented air, ride until the breath was torn from his lungs. He rounded a corner and on the landing leading to the main staircase almost ran into a girl.

She was standing in the falling light of the tall windows, turned slightly from him, looking up at a portrait on the far wall. Her figure was light and girlish, her hair dark brown curls that were tied in disarray atop her head. He held his breath. Surely it could not be. All he could see of her face was the soft curve of one cheek - the curl of eyelash raised toward an arched brow.

"Where have you come from?" he whispered in wonder. "And why now when all is lost?"

She turned at his voice, her eyes wide in surprise. They were light hazel, not the dark blue that he remembered so vividly. Her nose was longer and more defined, her lips not quite so full. But never before had he seen anyone who resembled her as closely. His heart was beating so loudly, he was certain that she could hear it too.

"It's you!" she cried, adding to his confusion.

What did she mean? It was not her. How could this girl he had never seen before recognise him?

"In the picture," she said, gesturing. "I do beg your pardon - you must be Mr Darcy." She blushed full red.

"It is I who should beg your pardon for I came upon you so abruptly," he said, his mind still spinning from the shock he had received. "And who do I have the pleasure of . . ."

"Oh! I am Kitty Bennet. I - we - that is, my aunt and uncle are here as well - we are touring your lovely house with your housekeeper, but I stopped to admire the portrait and - I think they have already gone downstairs."

This said, they both looked down the stairs to see Mrs Reynolds standing at the foot with a fashionably dressed lady and gentleman. All three were watching the exchange with much interest. Fitzwilliam offered Kitty his arm and escorted her down the staircase. Introductions were then made and he stood and talked for a few minutes until he excused himself. Kitty's eyes followed him as he walked off towards his study.

When they were out in the gardens she whispered to her aunt, "What a very handsome gentleman, and so polite."

"Do not get your hopes up dear," replied Mrs Gardiner dampeningly. "He is married."

"Just my luck," said Kitty, her bottom lip beginning to protrude in a pout. "He appeared to be quite taken with me."

~

Fitzwilliam sat in his chair and tried to settle himself. His blood was rushing swiftly through his veins leaving him light headed. He could not believe that he had almost mistaken someone else for her. Almost rushed to the girl and pulled her into his arms in front of her own relatives and Mrs Reynolds, despite the fact that he was a married man. How could he have explained such behaviour? His mind was in such turmoil that he had not caught the names of her aunt and uncle as he stood and talked with them. He had no clue what he had said, but he had managed to get away without disgracing himself at any event.

The encounter brought her into the forefront of his thoughts as he had not allowed her to be for quite some time. Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks. Those of Miss Kitty Bennet paled in comparison. The longer he had looked at her the more he realised how much the girl in his vision surpassed her. The mistake must have been a trick of the light. But he was still suffering from confusion. What if he were to see her now, in his married state? Would he be able to restrain himself or would he lose all reason and let propriety fly as he very nearly had done? What would she think of him if he did, given the nature of their prior meeting? If ever he were to meet her again, no matter the circumstances, he would have to restrain his emotions and desires and face her with all the politeness and decorum that he possessed.

His reverie was disturbed by Georgiana who popped her head around the door. He looked up and smiled and held out his hand and she came to join him, sitting in the chair beside his desk that had become hers over the years.

"I hear I am to congratulate you."

"Not for some months, I believe," he said with a tight smile.

"Is it what you wanted?"

"It is what she wanted, which is more to the point, but on reflection it is a very good thing. I shall be happy to be a father."

"And I an aunt."

"Are you content, my sweet?"

"Why should I not be, Fitzwilliam? You are always here, and Anne has been so very good to me. I want for nothing."

"Shall we go to London?"

"Anne is not allowed to travel in her present state." There was a flicker of fear in the back of her eyes.

"We could go, just the two of us, and see a play or a recital."

"I - I don't think I am ready to go anywhere yet," she said quietly.

"You will be coming out next year," he reminded her softly.

"I will endeavour to be ready. I have spoken at great lengths with Anne and I am feeling much more confident, but I really would prefer to stay home at present."

"As you wish," he smiled fondly at her and tried not to show his concern.

Georgiana knew that look, and it pained her to bring it to her brother's face. She realised that he had married Anne out of concern for herself and not love of their cousin, and though Anne was cold and candid she really had become a valuable companion. She taught her how to stand up for herself and not be taken in, and she taught her that love was an important but rare commodity. She balanced Fitzwilliam's protective nature and helped Georgiana find strength from within. The warmth that Anne lacked, she had from her brother in plenty. She was still hesitant and shy, but she was no longer fragile and vulnerable to being taken in by charm and a handsome face. At least she didn't think she was. The mention of Wickham, indeed the very thought of him, still brought tears to her eyes, but she had come a very, very long way from that evening in Ramsgate when she had come to know his deceit.

Her biggest worry was her brother. He had sacrificed so much for her and she wanted nothing but his happiness. She wished he had married someone out of love rather than duty and she hoped fervently that the child would bring the light into his life that he so desperately needed.

Continued in the next section