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Chapter Eleven

Posted on Sunday, 14 September 2003, at 6:52 p.m.

"Must you always go on about that gentleman you met in Derbyshire who was so very taken with you even though he was married?" asked Lydia. "I forever have married gentleman flirting with me. It is no great thing."

"Yes but none so rich as Mr Darcy," replied Kitty. "If only he were not married I am certain I would have had a chance with him. You should have seen the look in his eyes when he first saw me. I do believe I broke his heart."

"Kitty!" said Lizzie. "How can you say such things when your fiancé is at this moment on his way to visit you?"

"Yes, are you not afraid that I will tell him of your infatuation with another man?" Lydia smirked as Kitty regarded her in shock.

"Mama! Please send Lydia away!"

"I am staying right here," said Lydia smugly.

"Well you shall not say anything. I was not infatuated with him, it was the other way around - though he was so very tall and handsome." A dreamy look came into her eyes, and then she lowered her voice to a whisper. "But should you even think of mentioning him, I will tell Mama about you going behind the skreen in Colonel Forster's drawing room with that young lieutenant."

"You will not!"

"I shall!"

"Would both you girls please hold your tongues?" asked Mary from the corner where she was reading. "I wish that Jane's year of mourning were over so I could be married to Mr Phelps and out of this madhouse."

"I wish it too," said Kitty. "It is so difficult for my dear Mr Fawcett and I to have to wait. For a cleric he can be ever so amorous," she added in an aside to Lydia.

"I would never settle for a fusty old parson!" cried Lydia.

"He is neither fusty nor old," said Kitty with a toss of her head, "and when his aunt, Lady Emerson, dies he stands to inherit a tidy sum. You are just jealous for I am to marry before you."

"I am delighted that two of my girls will be wed in only a few months," said Mrs Bennet looking up from her needlework. "If only you had the sense Kitty has, Lizzie. I send her off on one trip with the Gardiners and she captures not one heart but two. It was a pity about the rich gentleman being married, but Mr Fawcett's prospects are extremely good. You have been countless times and come up with nothing."

"I wish you would excuse me, Mama," said Lizzie, "but I promised Jane that I would join her and Lily and Rose in the garden." She put down her stitchery and went in search of her bonnet.

"Lizzie! Do not be long, girl. There is much to be done to ready your sisters' bridal clothes. Oh, that girl will be the death of me; my poor fingers shall be worn to the bone for all the help I get from her!" Mrs Bennet fanned herself and looked around the room for assistance, but as the three girls present were oblivious to her actions, she quickly gave up the idea of becoming faint and returned to setting her stitches.

Kitty and Lydia giggled as they resumed looking through all the latest fashion plates that were spread out on the table before them.

"Seed pearls!" cried Kitty. "The very thing!"

"Look at the lace and the cut of the bodice. Ooh la!" Lydia rejoined.

~

Fitzwilliam paced the floor of his study. He had never expected it to affect him in such a way, but he was very apprehensive about what was happening upstairs behind the closed doors of Anne's bedchamber. That morning while he was visiting her, her pains had begun and he had watched her change from her usual controlled self to a frightened child in need of consolation.

"I have such a fear of dying," she admitted through her tears.

"Anne, if there is anything I have learned in this marriage to you it is that you are much stronger than anyone could ever have believed. You can manage any situation you find yourself in and I expect this to be no different."

"It is true - I have great mental strength but it is the physical that I lack."

Fitzwilliam took her hand in his. This was the closest he had ever felt to her - when she admitted her vulnerability. Her frame was small and frail, and childbirth was an arduous task. Rather than catch her fear, he talked to her softly and encouragingly until the midwife arrived and took over the task of keeping her calm. Just before he left the room she called him to her side again.

"If I do not survive this, I have one favour to ask of you."

Her face was pale and her eyes very large with dark rings underneath. Just looking at her raised Fitzwilliam's level of concern, but he was determined not to show it.

"Anything, Anne, but you will survive."

"Promise me that the child will be brought up with a free spirit, especially if it should be a girl. Do not let her be confined and coddled as I was, barely allowed to breathe on my own. I want her to live life to the fullest, and most of all, I want her to be loved."

"I promise - but you shall have your share in the task for you are not going to leave us."

Anne winced in pain and arched her body, grasping his hand tightly, her fingernails biting into his flesh. When the cramp was over she looked at him again imploringly. "And if it is a girl please call her Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth Anne."

Fitzwilliam smiled. "Why not Anne first, and then Elizabeth?"

"No," whispered Anne softly so that he could barely hear, "Elizabeth will always come before Anne in your heart."

Fitzwilliam was then shooed from the room by the midwife who said it was not the place for a gentleman, husband or not. That had been in the morning, it was now late into the night and no word had come from upstairs yet other than that the mistress was very worn down, but still holding her own. Anne's fear had caught him in its snare now and as he paced he realised how much the child had come to mean to him. He prayed fervently that neither mother nor child would be lost and when a gentle rap sounded at the door he turned in trepidation.

"It is finally over, Mr Darcy. The mistress has delivered a beautiful little girl. You may come and see them now," Mrs Reynolds said from the doorway. "May I be the first to congratulate you?"

"Thank you, Mrs Reynolds. How is Anne?"

"Very tired, but well, sir, and quite pleased with herself, I might add. It seems a girl is what she set her heart on."

'Elizabeth Anne,' thought Fitzwilliam as he remembered the unusual request. 'Why would she expect me to love the child more if she were called Elizabeth rather than Anne, my own mother's name?'

When he entered the room he saw a much changed Anne. She may have been worn and tired but she was absolutely radiant, filled with a glowing inner-light. "Come and see her," she whispered with all the pride a mother could possess. "Isn't she precious?"

Fitzwilliam looked down at the little bundle in her arms and instantly his heart swelled. He reached out and Anne passed her to him, showing him how to cradle the tiny head in his hand. He was in awe. She was so small and so perfectly formed. "Hello Elizabeth Anne Darcy." His voice was soft as it stroked the air. "My but you are beautiful." He held her for a few minutes, gazing at her lovingly, before placing her back in her mother's arms.

"You are pleased with her?" Anne looked at him with an expression of eagerness.

Fitzwilliam had never seen this Anne before. She was warm and happy - complete. "Very."

"I never knew I would feel quite like this," said Anne. "It is more than I had ever counted on. I did not think it possible to love somebody so very much." She smiled and her whole face looked more alive than he had ever seen it.

"I have come to take the wee bairn," said the midwife as she bustled into the room. "Your wife needs to get her rest, sir."

Fitzwilliam accepted his dismissal, taking a moment only to congratulate Anne and give his daughter a last fond look.

Anne lay back on her pillow. She felt her contentment could never be eclipsed. After all she had gone through to bring her tiny daughter into the world she realised that no suffering was too great when the reward was so immeasurably wonderful. She felt warmth run through her and as sleep became overpowering she smiled and gave in to it. As she slept her light bleeding began to flow more heavily and she slowly slipped away to a different kind of freedom than she had ever previously known.

~

"If you feel yourself up to it, Jane dear," said Lizzie, "I think going to London for the season would be a very good thing. Since your state of mourning ended you have barely been into society, save attending our two sister's marriages, and then Letitia's own. Our small assemblies are nothing to the balls, concerts and plays we may attend in town."

"And Prudence has promised to procure vouchers for Almacks for the both of us," said Jane. "But how will Lily and Rose like to be in the city? They are so happy here at Longbourn, and you know how Papa dotes on them."

"Would it be too very difficult to leave them behind?"

"I would miss them terribly."

"Then it is settled! Papa must come with us."

"Oh Lizzie! You know he dislikes London."

"He will be the one to suffer, then, left alone in the country without his sweethearts. The children's nursemaid will like it, though, and they can visit with our cousins at the Gardiners."

"I am decided," said Jane. "We shall do it. I will send word to Possons to open up the town house and hire more servants." Her eyes held more excitement than had been there for a long while.

Lizzie hugged her sister. She had been too long in the country. As much as she loved it, Jane would never find a new husband if the highlight of her day was a walk into Meryton and her only gentleman caller was portly Squire Bedford who was looking for a mother for his four wilful sons.

The parlour door opened with a crash and Lydia came bounding into the room. "I have just now met the most handsome and charming gentleman in the entire country," she exclaimed as she threw herself onto the settee, "and he is invited to Aunt Phillips' tomorrow night for a loo party. You shall all be able to meet him, but don't forget, he is mine for I saw him first."

She was followed in by Mrs Bennet who continued for her, "Such address, such gentlemanly grace! And to think he will soon have a red coat too for he is joining Colonel Forster's regiment! He will be just perfect for our Lydia."

"But I thought Lydia meant to marry someone rich," said Lizzie with a sly grin. "Do not tell me he has a fortune as well as a red coat."

"Alas, no," said her mother, "for I understand he has been treated very shamefully in the past and was not given his rightful inheritance."

"Never fear," said Lydia. "He has hopes to reclaim it in the end, besides which he is so devastatingly handsome that it is of no consequence. I would marry him if he had not a penny to his name."

"And is he prepared to take you with your small dowry as well?" asked Lizzie.

"Fie, Lizzie, do not be so silly. He does not yet know that he is to marry me."

"I cannot wait to meet this paragon and tell him the treat that is in store for him."

"Lizzie - Lydia has no need of your mocking ways. The man is truly a gentleman, and if Lydia has to set her sights lower now as regards fortune, it is no fault of her own. She receives no invitations to London and it is very vexatious that the new tenant of Netherfield is a married man who never entertains. Why he even moved into the neighbourhood, I have no idea. If Jane would only open her house in town!"

"But I am planning to Mama. Lizzie and I will be going to London in a fortnight, and Lydia too, if she should wish it."

"Jane, how could you?" cried Lydia. "No sooner does a gentleman like Mr Wickham come to Meryton than you make plans to separate him from me. Do you not want my happiness?"

"Of course I do, and you are not constrained to accept the invitation," said Jane good-naturedly.

"Not accept the invitation? What do you take me for? All that remains is to convince Colonel Forster to send Mr Wickham to London while we are there. I am the special friend of his wife, after all, so I see no reason why he would not do a little favour like that for me."

The next evening Lizzie and Jane had the pleasure of finally meeting the gentleman whom their mother and sister had not stopped talking about. He was not overly tall, but he had regular features in a pleasing countenance and a most knee-weakening smile. His best feature were his clear blue eyes, which seemed to tell every lady that he spoke to that she was more important to him than anybody else. Lizzie could well see why Lydia was smitten.

They had not been long at her Aunt Phillips' before he singled Lizzie out.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I have been hoping for a moment with you since the instant we met."

Lizzie eyed him sceptically. "I thank you sir."

"I hope you will pardon me saying I find it difficult to believe that a beauty like you has not yet been snapped up by one of the local gentry." His eyes gleamed with appreciation as they slowly slid over her form to rest again upon her face.

"Is that a flattering way of saying that I am on the shelf?" asked Lizzie with a twinkle in her eye.

"By no means," replied Wickham, not missing a beat. "It only suggests that you have broken many a heart."

"I have yet to meet a gentleman that appeals to me."

"Did you hear that?" whispered Wickham provocatively. "It was the sound of my own heart breaking. You are too cruel."

"And you, sir, are an accomplished flirt."

"You doubt my sincerity? I will prove how faithful I am. I hereby give up all other woman henceforth." He held his hand over his heart as he made the vow, a wicked smile upon his lips.

"I do not think my sister will be too pleased if you begin to court me," said Elizabeth tartly.

"What care I for your sister?"

"I think you will have better luck with her," said Lizzie. "If you will excuse me, sir, my aunt desires my assistance."

As she walked away, Wickham watched her go. She was pretty, yes, but not a particular beauty like her elder sister, yet there was something about her that sparked his interest. She had the most teasing eyes, and she dared to withstand his charm. If there was anything that appealed to him, it was a challenge, and in his opinion she had just thrown down the gauntlet.

~

"Are you ready for your come out, dearest?" asked Fitzwilliam as he joined Georgiana in her chamber where she had just completed packing her trunks.

"Fitzwilliam, I am now eighteen and it is well time for it. I promise you that I shall not embarrass you."

"You will do me proud," he said, drawing close to her and kissing her forehead. "What is more important is that you enjoy yourself."

"I am very relieved that I will not have to be presented in court, and I am truly looking forward to all the plays and concerts that we shall be attending, even more so than the balls, I must admit."

"I do hope you enjoy the balls, nevertheless. I have even gone to the trouble of procuring vouchers at Almacks, which can be a terrible bore, but is the most prestigious location to launch you, so I am told. If you are seen there, you will be invited everywhere." His eyes held a teasing glint.

"Fitzwilliam, you speak of me as if I were a ship! Will you break a bottle of champagne over my bows? You know that I do not really want to make a splash in London society, merely get my toes wet."

"I am sorry. I have received the bulk of my information from Bingley's sisters, for which I do apologise. What I really want is for you to enjoy your season and make some friends."

'And what I really want is for you to finally find a lady you can love who will love you in return. That is why I am agreeing to all this,' thought Georgiana to herself. Out loud she only said, "I would like that above all things."

"And we will have Elizabeth Anne with us, so while we are not out gallivanting we will never be lonely."

"Our sweet little girl. Do you know she very nearly took a step on her own today?"

"We do not want her to start walking yet! How are we to keep her still in the carriage upon our journey?"

"You know that she will be in your arms the entire time and she always behaves like an angel for her papa."

Fitzwilliam smiled, just thinking of his little girl. She had recently turned one year old. A year replete with the joy that she had brought to his life. He wondered how he had ever managed without her.

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Saturday, 20 September 2003, at 4:08 p.m.

"La! This is a fashionable district," said Lydia as she looked out the windows of the elegant parlour onto Curzon Street, and noted the size and grandeur of the neighbouring houses. "When last I was in London it was at the Gardiners' in Gracechurch Street. Not an address I would like to repeat to any tonnish gentleman I should meet, but I cannot feel ashamed of this direction. In fact when I told Mr Wickham of it, he was duly impressed."

"I am most certain it caused him to look upon you with much more favour," said Elizabeth.

"Yes it did, for he knows what's what in the world," responded Lydia, oblivious to the sarcasm of her sister's comment. "Bye the bye, we had a most delightful conversation at the Lucas' soirée last night. It is the drollest thing. Remember that Mr Darcy Kitty left swooning over her at that great house in Derbyshire? Well it comes about that he is the gentleman that wronged Mr Wickham and denied him the living that had been willed to him."

"Hardly the act of a gentleman," said Lizzie dryly, "though ought we put so much trust in Mr Wickham's word?"

"Certainly, for he is so very handsome and charming. It is a great pity he was not able to make sermons, though, in truth, I like him much better in a red coat than I should have in a parson's collar. I have no wish to copy Kitty and marry a parson."

"There I am in complete agreement with you. Mr Wickham would make a terrible parson and you are most unfit to be a parson's wife."

"But the very good joke is that the great man Kitty set so much in store by is no more than a lecherous, selfish beast. How I will laugh at her when I see her next - always putting on airs about her conquest! This will serve her!"

"I think such slander is best kept to yourself, Lydia. You are basing your opinion on nothing but supposition."

"Oh, no, I have dear Mr Wickham's word. When he arrives in London you can hear it from his own lips. Just don't monopolise him as you always do."

"I do my best to avoid his company, believe me."

"You have done nothing but try to steal him from me since you met him," cried Lydia with a toss of her head. "But you will not win him, not if I can help it."

"I have no interest in him and I sincerely hope that while we are in London you will meet another gentleman that will put him out of your head."

"If he is not more handsome than Mr Wickham he will have to be very rich indeed!"

"Lydia, there is more to choosing a husband than appearance and fortune. His character ought to matter - whether he is intelligent, amiable and kind."

Lydia threw herself upon a settee and gave Lizzie a despairing look. "Lord, you are so boring. It is no wonder you have not married yet." She looked about the room and heaved a great sigh. "When will Jane be done with the housekeeper? I want to go to the milliners - my gowns are ever so dowdy. I can't be seen dressed in such a countrified fashion. This is London, after all."

~

Almacks was an establishment only open to the elite of the ton. Without a voucher from its esteemed patronesses one was not admitted entry. Lydia counted herself lucky that Jane's sister by marriage, Prudence, was related somewhat distantly through her own marriage to Princess Esterhazy and well looked upon by Lady Sefton and Lady Jersey who were very discriminating in their judgements. If any of these ladies had been at all acquainted with the youngest Miss Bennet, it is doubtful she would have been admitted to those hallowed halls the second Wednesday after her arrival to London. As it was she looked about herself in awe upon entering the ballrooms, pleased that she was able to rub shoulders with the very pink of society. Even if it were to turn out to be an utter bore, with all its stiff rules and regulations, it was her opportunity to make an impression upon some very rich gentlemen.

Georgiana, on the other hand, entered the same rooms filled with trepidation. Though she had overcome the sense of betrayal and self doubt that had been her legacy from the Ramsgate affair, she was naturally shy and unused to large crowds. She also had no pretensions of being all the rage in London society and pandering to people interested only in money and status. Her eyes large, she looked to her brother and he, in return, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Fitzwilliam wondered, not for the first time, if his decision to bring Georgiana had been a wise one. The crowds could be intimidating, and he did not relish the idea that, in everyone else's eyes, the two of them had just entered the marriage mart. Though looking for a new wife was the furthest thing from his mind, he knew that it was the expectation of every marriageable young lady and her mama. He did not think this out of vanity, but experience, and if the rapacious looks in the eyes that were focused on him were any indication, he was correct in his conjecture. His consolation was that he could devote his time to the other members of his party - Bingley, his sisters, and Mr Hurst - and avoid the clutches of some avaricious female. Well, not entirely, for though Bingley's sister Caroline had married shortly after his own nuptials, she was here without her spouse and appeared to be quite as intent on monopolising his favour as in the past.

Lizzie, choosing to keep to the background, settled with Jane upon some chairs in an area frequented more by married women than by debutantes. Lizzie had come only to support her sisters and not out of any interest in her own pleasures. She planned to enjoy watching the dancing and maybe standing up for a set or two with a gentleman from her own party. Mr Andrews seated himself between Lizzie and Jane while Prudence led Lydia to a more prominent situation. Her husband set off in search of refreshments to help tide him through the evening, though he knew from experience that the offerings were not of the most reviving sort. He also deplored the fact that cards were not an option and prepared himself for an evening of supreme boredom with nothing to do but converse with dowagers he would rather avoid or, heaven forbid, dance.

"I would prefer to sit in a more secluded place," said Georgiana as Caroline steered the company to an open area alongside the dance floor.

"Darling, you need to be on view," said Caroline.

"I am certain anybody who wishes to greet us will search us out no matter where we sit," said Fitzwilliam. "We are not here to be on display, but to enjoy ourselves, and Georgiana's comfort is my primary concern. This is her first ball of any size."

Caroline conceded gracefully, and for a moment the entire party paused to look over the room. Caroline was looking for acquaintances before which to flaunt the man she considered her escort; Georgiana a quiet nook; Bingley a dance partner; Louisa neighbours of social prominence; Mr Hurst a palm to fall asleep behind; and Fitzwilliam a position that would satisfy the needs of everybody concerned. Suddenly his attention was arrested.

He had not even thought of her all day, so why should he imagine he was seeing her now? He told himself to look away, that it was only a trick of the warm candlelight that filtered into the corner where the lady sat, but he could not. His attention was caught by her pose, her head turned towards her partner. It was so like how he remembered last seeing her, her head tilted away from him to hide the tears in her eyes. Could it be? He was certain, and then uncertain, and then certain again. He began to walk forward without a thought for anything else, even Georgiana who was on his arm and carried along in his wake.

He could not say why he was so positive - her figure was not that of a girl but womanly, and to his mind very lovely. His eyes did not leave her as he willed her to turn from her companion and look in his direction. To let him see the eyes he had dreamt of all those years. She turned her head to glance about the room and then hesitated. The breath left his body. He stopped almost as abruptly as when he had started moving and Georgiana was brought up short at his side. His every dream had just been answered.

Lizzie felt her breath catch in her throat. It was him, standing not three yards before her. Of that she had no doubt. He was even taller now, with the build of a man rather than a boy, but decidedly him. The same hair falling forward on his brow; the same eyes; the same haunted look.

His gaze then took in more than her, including her companion and situation in the room. His heart jolted in his chest and his veins, which were sending blood charging excitedly throughout his body, froze. She was certainly married, and the gentleman she was talking to undoubtedly her husband.

The joy that rose in Lizzie's chest was suddenly tempered. There was a beautiful young woman on his arm, and another behind him, holding him in a proprietary gaze. After all these years she must have known him to be married - it was foolish to think otherwise - and one of these two women was most likely his wife. She felt faint and barely heard Mr Andrews who was calling her attention.

"Miss Elizabeth, is something amiss?"

She tried to focus her eyes upon him, but all she could think of was the other gentleman she had just seen for the first time in twelve years and the fact that he was more lost to her than ever. Why did fate play such heartless tricks?

"Are you unwell? Would you like me to escort you to a more airy chamber, or would you like a drink?"

"I think a drink," said Lizzie in a shaken voice. "I will be all right presently."

Fitzwilliam permitted himself to be led off to some chairs, avoiding Bingley's questioning glance. His mind in turmoil he neither knew what to think or how to go on, and though he understood in the reasoning part of his brain that he should think no more of her, he could do nothing else. As Georgiana watched, a worried look upon her brow, he let his eyes wander back to the alcove she inhabited, saw the gentleman speak to her with concern and then get up and quit the room, slowly making his way through the crush of the crowd. A lady that appeared also to be of her party was invited to dance, looking over to her for approval, and then she was left alone, seated motionless, her head still turned away. Without even knowing that he had formed any decision to move, he found himself on his feet approaching her, ignoring the fact that because she was married there could be no point in prolonging his misery by dancing with her. As the first strands of a waltz struck up he was at her side, wordlessly holding his hand out to her.

Though Lizzie had not turned her head, she had felt him walk across the room. His presence beside her chair was a vibrant thing that called out to her so loudly she could not believe that the others in the room were unaware of it. She little thought of the formalities of introduction or the propriety of waltzing with an unknown married man. The force that pulled her from her chair to join him on the floor was irresistible, and though she could not meet his eyes, she gave him her hand and allowed him to lead her to the centre of the floor. Just the touch of his hand on hers sent her pulses racing, and when he placed his other hand upon her waist, she could barely contain her senses. She had never waltzed in her life before, but her body responded to his every movement and she followed his lead.

Fitzwilliam looked down at her, taking in the heady feeling of being near her and the nostalgic fragrance of rosewater that brought back their previous closeness with great clarity. He wished she would look up. Her lustrous curls and the smooth curve of her forehead could no longer sustain him when what he wanted was to look deep within her eyes once more; and yet, the moment she raised her face and her eyes met his he realised it was a mistake. There was so much in that look, so much that lay between them fogged and twisted by the intervening years that he was brought speechless. What could he say to the lady he had sought for so long when, with her married, there was an embargo on every subject?

As Lizzie looked into his face she had to suppress the urge to reach up and touch the curl of hair that had fallen upon his forehead - push it back into place. She felt the danger of loosing herself in his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to break the contact, only to notice both women of his party staring at them, one curious and confused, the other with a cold calculating look upon her face. Even though she knew one must be his wife, the need to look back up at him was so strong she could not resist it. This was the face from her dreams, subtly changed by the years, still in some pain and even more handsome than she remembered.

Fitzwilliam struggled with all the emotions that were racing through his body and finally found his voice. "I never knew your name." A simple statement, but an admission, if one was indeed necessary, that he had not forgotten her - that he knew very well with whom he was dancing.

He had said it in a low tone, in a voice both rich and raw. It cut through the confusion Lizzie was feeling and gave her to realise that though they could never be anything to each other they could exchange this one thing - the gift of each other's names. "Elizabeth Bennet," she said almost in a whisper.

"Elizabeth." It came out in a tender caressing breath as realisation hit him. Elizabeth - always first in his heart. And though he supposed he should feel resentment towards Anne for keeping all she knew from him, he could only feel thankful that she had given him an Elizabeth of his own that carried the name of his only love. In her life she had been shallow and deceiving, but in motherhood she had been all that was unselfish. He recollected himself, realising that Elizabeth was waiting for some kind of reciprocal gesture from him. "I am Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Fitzwilliam. Lizzie took the name and held it within her heart, but out loud she only said, "Mr Darcy," and then as another unhappy thought opened up she asked, a slight tremor to her voice, "of Pemberley?"

"Yes."

Lizzie's conversation with Lydia flooded back into her head. This was the gentleman who had so admired Kitty even though he was married? This was the man who had purportedly blighted Mr Wickham's future? She knew not what to think, only there was nothing she could say to him that could be voiced. The questions that needed answering were ones that could not be asked. Polite conversation was impossible with all that was going on within her mind.

They danced on in silence, not aware even of the other couples, their every effort concentrated on keeping their emotions in check, and in doing so remaining very serious. Neither was given a glimpse of the other's feelings as a protective barrier erected itself between them.

A movement on the edge of the dance floor drew Fitzwilliam's gaze and he saw the gentleman who had previously been sitting with Elizabeth, standing as if frozen, a glass of lemonade in his hands and a glazed look upon his face. Her husband. Fitzwilliam felt his face turn white as he thought what must be going through the man's mind. He instinctively took a step back from Elizabeth even though they had not been dancing closer than propriety dictated and he instantly felt the loss, knowing that if he should meet her at a ball or assembly again, he could never take the chance he had done tonight and dance with her. He had no wish to cause his beloved grief with her husband and he realised that in dancing with her this night he had been utterly selfish.

Mr Andrews had nearly dropped the glass of lemonade when he returned to the room after having been waylaid by countless annoying acquaintances only to find Elizabeth - his Elizabeth - waltzing with another gentleman. She had steadfastly refused to waltz with anyone, ever, including himself. It could only mean one thing. What he had hoped would never happen had finally taken place. This was surely the man who owned her heart. He felt his own tearing to shreds.

At the end of the dance, Fitzwilliam returned Lizzie to her seat and bowed stiffly over her hand, thanking her for the dance in a tight, distant voice, and then turned and walked away. He did not see her eyes fill with tears. He was too concerned with escaping before his own did.

Lizzie sat down mutely and turned her head away. It hurt to be left so coldly, and what hurt even more was the knowledge that he was returning to his lady. She could not look to see them together again, it would be more than she could bear, but despite herself she turned back and followed him with her eyes, watched as he took the young lady's arm and led her from the room, her vision almost completely blurred.

"I am sorry I took so long about your drink."

Mr Andrews was at her side looking more than apologetic. Lizzie turned her eyes full of unshed tears upon him and asked to be taken home. His heart wrenching at the look of desolation on her face, he complied immediately and made excuses to Jane, who he promised to return for.

"Lizzie, I am so sorry. I did not know you were feeling unwell," cried Jane in concern. "Give me a moment to collect Lydia and we can all be away at once."

Lizzie thanked her but insisted that she did not want to spoil either sister's pleasure and what she really needed was only some quiet and solitude. "Enjoy your dance and know that I am well, dear Jane, just a trifle fatigued."

Jane could see that there was more to it than what Lizzie was saying but feared that, in not letting her have her way, she would cause her even further distress. She watched as Mr Andrews led her sister from the ballroom and then went to join Prudence and Lydia in their spot by the edge of the dance floor.

When told of Lizzie's indisposition, Lydia only said, "What great good luck for us that we did not have to leave with her. I have barely sat down all night! Lord, I am so fagged."

In the outer room, Mr Andrews and Lizzie walked past Mr Darcy on their way to the door. Lizzie's head was bent so she did not see him, but Mr Andrews gave him a long, hard stare that seemed to warn him off ever speaking to her again. Georgiana looked at the parting pair and then back at her brother. There was some mystery here that she did not understand.

"Who is that lady, Fitzwilliam? Is she not the one you danced with?" And the one you dragged me near halfway across the room to stare at?

Her brother turned to her and shook his head as if to clear it. "I beg your pardon. I have been behaving very badly by neglecting you on your first night out. Can you forgive me?"

"And can you not tell me what is troubling you?"

"I will - one day - but not now." He took her arm and returned to the ballroom. "Tonight is for you alone and I want you to make the most of it."

Upon rejoining their friends, Georgiana found herself immediately petitioned by Mr Bingley for the next dance.

"It will be my pleasure," said Georgiana, smiling lightly.

Charles Bingley looked back at Darcy as he led Georgiana out. He had watched the earlier proceedings with no little alarm. Had Darcy finally discovered the girl he had been searching for until he had been constrained into marrying his cousin Anne? From all that he could see the reunion had not gone well. The lady appeared to be married. The sight of her had jogged a memory for him too. He was certain he had seen her before, and the gentleman who was most assuredly her husband, but he could not place where or when. His heart flew out to his friend who had suffered more pain and loss than anyone ought to in one lifetime.

He smiled attentively at Georgiana and conversed with her when the dance permitted, but while the figures of the dance separated them he found himself thinking back to a comment his own sister had made.

"Whatever do you think Mr Darcy means by waltzing with that woman? She is nobody as far as I can make out and I have no idea how he comes to know her."

"You do not know all his acquaintances, Caroline," he had replied, "and I do not think he is accountable to you for who he dances with. You may do well to remember you are married or you are likely to make a fool of yourself."

Now, as he looked over to the side of the floor where his friend stood, he could see that Caroline had still not given up her quest of Darcy. She stood simpering beside him while it appeared all Darcy wanted to do was lean back and watch his sister dance. He appeared both apprehensive and proud as his eyes followed her along the floor, and irritated whenever Caroline interrupted his contemplation of Georgiana with a fatuous comment.

Bingley returned all his attention to Georgiana when the dance brought them together again. Her cheeks were flushed with the pleasure of enjoying her first dance, but he could sense her nervousness as well and determined to set her at her ease. As the number ended, he chanced to look across the floor and spied a vision that put all thoughts of both Georgiana and Darcy out of his head. It was his angel - in the very room - and just as beautiful as ever. Even more beautiful. Her dress was cerulean blue with silver detailing. There were spangles, like stars, gleaming in her golden curls. But she was married, he had to remind himself. No good would come of dancing with her.

"Do you always stop dead in your tracks in the middle of a ballroom, Bingley?"

Charles turned to see Hurst leading Louisa from the floor. "No - I just saw . . . somebody that I once met." He blushed to the roots of his hair, and his sister, ever ready to be enlightened as to her brother's affairs, followed his gaze. So too did Georgiana.

"I see! You have eyes for the beautiful widow." Louisa's voice held a teasing note.

"Widow?" he asked, his elation mounting.

"Yes, I have heard she inherited all his estates. A tidy sum. There is the complication of two daughters, though." Louisa stopped talking when she noticed Charles was no longer listening.

He returned Georgiana to her brother, thanked her for the dance, and then eagerly started forward, his eyes never leaving his object. When Hurst reminded his wife that they had been about to go and take refreshment in the other room, she whispered, "No, wait. I want to see this."

The entire way across the floor, Bingley wracked his brain to try and remember the gentleman's name. He had met him once, when was it? Two or three years ago? He ought to feel sad to learn of his death, but he was only a chance acquaintance and now . . . Fairborn, that was it. He remembered thinking how well it suited her. He came up to where she was conversing with another young lady and coughed slightly.

"Excuse me, Mrs Fairborn? I do not know if you will remember me but I . . ."

She looked up at him and his voice ceased to work. She was just as ethereal as he remembered. Her eyes were a blue that warmed his very soul. Her voice rose up to him, sweet and gentle. "I do remember you."

It was all he needed to hear. She remembered him? His heart was singing. "Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

"Yes," she answered, and smiled so warmly that his thoughts, which at first had gone no further than the one dance with her, were now running full-fledged down the road to further and more abstract pleasures.

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Sunday, 28 September 2003, at 7:14 p.m.

The carriage ride home was very quiet. Lizzie held herself firmly in control, though she did not look up at Mr Andrews at all. When he reached for her hand, she let him hold it, but without returning the gentle squeeze he gave to it. He started to speak, but she shook her head and held up her other hand to forestall him. When they arrived at the door she thanked him.

"Is there not anything I can do to bring you comfort?" he asked, his voice ragged.

Lizzie looked up at him for the first time. "There is nothing anyone can do," she said softly and evenly. "I must heal myself."

"And what is to be done about the one who wronged you?"

"I was not wronged."

"But . . ."

"Please, do not think that. I thank you for your concern and your understanding. Goodnight."

"May I call tomorrow to see how you do?"

Lizzie gave him a weak smile. She owed him that much - he had always been a good and caring friend to her, and tonight he had neither questioned her nor tried to take advantage of her vulnerability. "You may."

Mr Andrews saw her to the door, and then returned to the halls of Almacks where he was only admitted because of his errand. Latecomers were always refused entry. He made it his business to discover the name of the gentleman who had danced with Elizabeth, and watched him surreptitiously in an attempt to get a measure of the man. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy - well connected, well respected, and wealthy. The worst he heard of him was that he had a great deal of pride, which was evident in the way he was leaning against the wall and watching the proceedings with a sombre air.

Mr Andrews was not disposed to think well of him, but he had to admit that he knew of no reason to think poorly of him other than he had very obviously caused Elizabeth some distress, no matter what she said to the contrary. He was aware that Mr Darcy had danced with no one else, and he could not mistake the look he had seen in the man's eyes when he held Elizabeth in his arms for the waltz. They had been filled with powerful, warring emotion. He too was suffering. Still now, he could see a residue of that pain behind the carefully schooled features. Mr Darcy turned his head and the two gentlemen locked eyes, and with the look Mr Andrews understood that they were not adversaries but joined somehow in their admiration of the same woman and the anguish they both were destined to bear because of it. Mr Andrews could not endure the acknowledgement any longer. He broke contact and made his way through the crowds to where the rest of his party were sitting.

Darcy watched the man as he wove his way across the room. The look had surprised him. Where he had expected the anger he had seen before, he had found understanding and hurt. The man was of good character - there could be no doubt - but what else could he expect from the gentleman who had won her, Elizabeth, while he was unable to find her? That she should be happy was now all he desired, only he greatly feared that this chance meeting between them had destroyed the present happiness of all three.

He looked back over to where Georgiana was dancing with a young man. She appeared to be enjoying herself well enough, but it was almost as if she were putting on a show for him to prove that she was having a good time. When she was close by he could sense her underlying nervousness and when she thought he was not attending he noticed glances of worry thrown his way. The evening was saved from being a disaster by the evident pleasure of Bingley who was floating in his own cloud of euphoria and making reference to angels.

That night and the next few days, Fitzwilliam was overcome with numbness. He had given Elizabeth up, he knew, the day he had agreed to marry Anne, and though she was now gone from this world, he had never seen her death as freeing him to search for his lost love again. Now here Elizabeth was, suddenly in his own realm of society. He could little avoid meeting with her again - they were sure to frequent the same theatres and be invited to the same parties. With a sister to escort he could not become a recluse. And though the pain of seeing her was so great, he could not honestly say that he did not desire it with all his heart. His thoughts were consumed with nothing else but her - the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, how she had felt in his arms. It was as it had been in the past but intensified one hundred fold.

Outwardly he became inattentive and silent. He barely spoke to his guests and answered interruptions to his thoughts with an uncharacteristic shortness. Even Caroline was afraid to talk to him. He knew his behaviour was insupportable, but he was in no mood for company; all he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts until he could bring about the balance that he needed to cope with this new situation. He allowed Caroline to chaperon Georgiana to a number of luncheons and morning visits while he strove to harness his inner turmoil and become a good companion for his sister again. His only relief was in his visits to the nursery where his daughter's smiles would wash his cares away for the moment and he would give himself up to her entertainment.

When Georgiana returned from a social engagement, he tried to be the same with her as he was with little Elizabeth Anne, but it was so much more difficult. What he wanted more than anything was to ask his sister if she had been present, but he could not bring himself to do so. Somehow, Georgiana understood his wishes and answered the unasked question.

"She was not there."

They both knew exactly who was being referred to and no more was said, though Georgiana did take his hand and look at him imploringly. Finally all she said was, "You will accompany me to dinner at the Selfridges tomorrow night, will you not?"

"Of course."

"I think Mr Bingley is falling in love."

"That is not unusual. Every year a new debutante turns his head for a week or two. He is made of stronger stuff than I ever expected, though. I had thought he would make a foolish marriage years ago, but somehow in the end his good sense always prevails."

"Fitzwilliam! This time it is different. For one thing, she is not a young girl, but a lady close to his own age. She is a widow, and very beautiful. Do you not remember seeing him dance with her at Almacks?"

"I dimly remember him speaking of an angel." He had other memories of that evening that were consuming his thoughts.

"That is the very lady," said Georgiana with a smile, but then she noticed that she had lost her brother's attention again. She raised her hand and touched his cheek. "Did you even go outside today Brother?" she asked, her voice filling with concern.

"No, I . . ." He let his sentence hang.

"Would you come for a walk with Elizabeth Anne and me tomorrow? Please?"

He looked at her face and instantly felt contrite. He was behaving so selfishly, blanketing himself in sorrow at his loss and not giving a thought to how he was hurting his sister. To walk with her on the fresh air and see growing living things was suddenly most tempting. "I know the very place we should go," he said and he kissed her forehead gently. "Thank you for having so much patience with me."

Lizzie awoke feeling much the same as she had the past few days. The gaping hole inside of her had not receded. Sadness washed over her as she lay back upon her tumbled sheets. Why had she thought he would always be true? That was such foolish thinking. She was a chance-met girl. Nobody. She knew he had offered marriage, but he was very young - people change with time - he could not carry a torch for her forever. Life goes on around them, and why should a gentleman born to prosperity even think of a girl he met in a cottage?

She knew so little of men, but she knew the opinion of the world regarding what had happened between them that day. Did he now look upon her the same way? As someone morally wicked? Was that what caused his coldness at the end of the dance? Oh, why had he danced with her anyway? He was married - he had no reason even to look at her again - unless . . . but that was preposterous. She could not think like that. How could she even let a foolish comment of Lydia's influence her? Kitty had said he was attracted to her, but Kitty could not be relied on as a font of accurate information either. Lizzie preferred to believe that the look he gave Kitty was because she reminded him of herself. There was a strong resemblance, more so than with any of her other sisters. There was no way she would believe him to be a rake - even given the circumstances of their first meeting. She could not be mistaken about the love they had shared.

And the other accusations about him that Lydia kept repeating when she discovered just whom Lizzie had danced with - she could no more believe those either. At Almacks, he appeared to be as honourable as she ever remembered him. He had said nothing untoward; in fact, other than exchanging names, there had been no conversation between them. He had seen her, remembered who she was, and danced with her. Why? For old time's sake? Curiosity? Because he had found her as irresistible as she had found him? Was he going through the same suffering as she, or was he even now wishing that they had never again met? Was he sitting contentedly with his wife with no more thought to her at all?

Lizzie threw back her bed covers and arose; she would gain nothing from such ruminations. She had told Mr Andrews that she would heal herself and she could not do so closeted in the house. She needed to go out into the world again - attend teas, honour dinner engagements - and if she should meet him again, she should hold her feelings in firm control and treat him with the same civility and deference as any chance acquaintance.

At breakfast she attended to her sister's conversation more than she had done since that night at Almacks. Jane looked at her and smiled.

"I had almost given you up, Lizzie, but I believe that today you are on the mend."

"I believe that I am, Dearest."

"How you could let one evening's entertainment knock you up so much I have no idea," said Lydia, "or did you suffer disappointment because Mr Darcy was more pleased with Kitty than with you?" She giggled.

"Lydia!" cried a shocked Jane.

"Oh fiddle! We all know what sort of a man he is. Why should she care for his good opinion?"

Jane gave Lizzie a worried glance. She too wondered about the dance with Mr Darcy, but not in the same way as Lydia did. Lizzie had said very little that night or in the intervening days, but Jane sensed that there was a connection in all this to the sorrow that her sister had carried around for most of her grown life. How waltzing with a stranger like Mr Darcy fit in, she had no idea, and she wasn't about to pry. She could not think badly of the man, as Lydia did. In the whole affair between him and Mr Wickham there must be some sort of misunderstanding. He was a friend of Mr Bingley's and . . . with the thought of Mr Bingley her ideas took a swift and much more pleasant turn. A small smile graced her lips. She completely missed hearing Lizzie's answer to Lydia and Lydia's rambling conversation about how soon she expected to see Mr Wickham in town. She was pulled from her happy reverie when Lizzie told her that she planned on visiting the Gardiners that morning and taking one of her young cousins for a walk.

"Should Mr Andrews call, could you be sure to tell him I am out?"

"We shall not be sitting about the house waiting to give messages to your admirer, Lizzie," said Lydia. "We have much better ways of passing the time."

"Don't mind Lydia," said Jane, who was relieved that Lizzie was not staying home by herself again this day. "I have no plans to go out as yet today - we shall be in for our callers."

"Oh Lord!" said Lydia. "We are in London! Why should we be sitting about our own parlour?"

"To receive your gentlemen callers, of course," said Lizzie. "You cannot forever be taunting them with your absence - you must give them some hope." She then excused herself to put on her pelisse and ask the footman to order the carriage to take her to Cheapside.

After a quiet visit with her aunt, to whom she admitted only that she had been indisposed for a couple of days and desperately wanted to be out in the open air, Lizzie and her cousin Emma, who was happy to be afforded a break from the school room, set out for a walk to the nearby park. It was a largish park for the area, and boasted not only flowerbeds, benches, and tree-lined walks, but a small pond upon which the young boys with their nannies loved to sail their toy boats. It was to this pond that Lizzie and Emma went, for the young girl enjoyed watching the ducks and throwing breadcrumbs to them. Lizzie found the ducks' antics along with her cousin's laughter did much to lift her spirits.

As Fitzwilliam and Georgiana waited for Elizabeth Anne's perambulator to be unloaded from the carriage, Fitzwilliam looked about him at the park he had frequented so often all those years ago. It was not in a fashionable part of town, but it had a pleasant aspect and was well tended. He placed Elizabeth Anne among the folds of her blankets and then allowed Georgiana to push the vehicle as he strolled beside them.

"Why have you never brought me here?" asked Georgiana in some surprise at the location of their outing.

Fitzwilliam had no answer for his sister, but directed her along one of the meandering paths that led to the pond. When they arrived at the water Georgiana seated herself upon a bench and took the baby out of her pram so that she could see her most interesting surroundings.
"Look at the ducks, sweetheart," she said, pointing to the water, and Elizabeth Anne pointed along with her, laughing proudly at her ability.

"Let me take her closer and show her the little boats bobbing about," said Fitzwilliam as he stretched his arms out to his daughter. Georgiana pretended to grudgingly relinquish her, but she was secretly overjoyed at the lightness of her brother's mood. She sat back on the bench and watched as he first led Elizabeth Anne with both hands, he himself almost doubled over, and allowed her to take her own little steps along the gravelled walk. When they arrived at the shore of the pond, she showed an alarming interest in continuing to walk directly into the water. Fitzwilliam squatted beside her and held her close in a hug, pointing out the white sails of the toy boats and then took her in his arms and slowly straightened up.

The first thing he saw was a lady and a young girl standing with their backs to him, casting breadcrumbs to a brood of ducklings upon the water. He knew immediately exactly who she was. He had told himself all the way to the park that he had chosen the location because he wished to avoid acquaintances and not because he had hoped to see her, but the very sight of her straight back and her lustrous curls peeking from the pale green bonnet proved to him that her presence was what he had longed for more than anything else. She stood there like some haunting vision and with her was a girl who was of the right height to be . . . Fitzwilliam began to feel very light headed. He took a deep breath, and then approached her, almost forgetting the small child in his arms and the mistaken impression Elizabeth would receive upon seeing her.

"Mrs Bennet."

Lizzie turned, so startled to see who was addressing her that his exact words did not register. Emma, on the other hand, looked at the gentleman with some confusion.

"Mr Darcy." Lizzie felt a sharp stab of pain at the sight of the sweet little girl in his arms. The child was a confirmation of all her suppositions - he was indeed married. She took Emma's hand and made to walk away but he forestalled her, looking intently at the girl by her side.

"You have not yet introduced me to your companion."

"I do apologise. This is Emma Gardiner, my cousin."

"Your cousin?" he said, colouring. "I had almost supposed . . ." It was out before he could prevent it, and he stood and waited for her response in the embarrassed silence that followed.
Lizzie blushed deeply, well aware what he had supposed. Finally she answered with as much composure as she could muster, "She is a tall girl for her age, do you not think? She is only ten years old."

Emma smiled proudly.

Fitzwilliam turned to her and said, "You are not only tall, Miss Gardiner, but very pretty."

"Thank you. What is your baby's name?" asked Emma, feeling much less bashful with the tall stranger now that he had smiled and talked to her.

"Elizabeth Anne Darcy." He turned his child so she could give Emma one of her wide smiles. He was very conscious of Elizabeth's eyes upon him and the stricken look on her face. He had just admitted that he had been married. It should not have mattered to him that she knew, for she was married herself, but he wished she could know that even though he had married, he had loved only her. In an effort to fill the awkward moment he addressed himself again to Elizabeth. "Do you have any children?"

She stared back at him in shock, at first wondering how he had the audacity to ask her such a question until it dawned on her that he had earlier referred to her as Mrs Bennet and was somehow under the impression that she was married. Lizzie's heart beat a little faster. She raised her eyes to his and looked at him directly. "No, sir, I am not married."

"But . . ." Fitzwilliam began, flustered, but decided better upon what he had been about to say. He could in no way ask her who the gentleman she left Almacks with was. He had no right to ask a question of such a personal nature, but he desperately needed to know. Was he her suitor? Were they engaged? Or was it possible that she was free? He felt his heart begin to loose itself from its cage, to flutter its clipped wings. "I beg your pardon."

Lizzie lowerd her eyes under the increased intensity her words brought to his gaze. Was it right for a married man to look at her like that, and for her to feel the way she was feeling with the look? Lydia could not be right - she could not!

Georgiana could not stay patient any longer. Fitzwilliam was talking to the same lady that he had danced with the other night. They both appeared to be very moved by what looked like a simple and somewhat stilted conversation. If she was to discover who the mystery lady was, she had best join them for an introduction. She came up to them and had to touch her brother's arm to get his attention.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Gardiner, may I introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?"

"Miss Darcy, I am pleased to meet you," said Lizzie, holding out her hand and smiling. She felt a great relief that this young, lovely girl was not his wife, but had to remind herself that he must still be married. She thought back to the haughty lady from the other night and supposed it must be she, though how he could marry someone who appeared so unpleasant she could not imagine. But did she really even know him - know anything about him? All she had ever known was his heart, and maybe she was mistaken in that too. She tried to attend to what the young lady was saying, but her head began to throb terribly. Being so close to him, hearing his voice, and seeing the child, her dark eyes so like his, had all taken its toll upon her. Her mind was whirling in confusion and she no longer knew what to think.

"Miss Bennet, are you unwell?" His voice was low and full of feeling, surprising her with its urgency.

"I am quite well, sir, thank you," she managed, "but I feel I must return to my aunt's house with my cousin now."

"May I - we - escort you home?"

"I do not think that will be necessary. I was most happy to meet your sister and your . . . child." Her voice almost broke as she said the word.

She and Emma took their leave and left Fitzwilliam staring after them until Elizabeth Anne squirmed in his arms, wanting to get down and walk again. This time he and Georgiana each took a hand and they walked the little girl back to her perambulator. Fitzwilliam wondered at Elizabeth's evident distress. Had he done or said something to drive her away? Did she not feel anything for him anymore? Was his presence just a reminder of an incident in her life she would prefer lay forgotten? As he was about to place Elizabeth Anne back in her pram he looked at her sweet face and everything was suddenly clear. She thought him married. That explained all her reticence since they had seen each other across the ballroom floor. It explained her discomposure after their waltz, her need to flee Almacks, and her hesitancy to converse with him today at the park.

"Georgiana, will you take Elizabeth Anne for a moment? There is something I need to do."

Georgiana took the little girl and cradled her in her arms while Fitzwilliam hurriedly retraced their steps and then almost ran in the direction he had seen Elizabeth and her cousin go. He arrived to the park gates and looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of them. He walked back to his sister slowly, acknowledging that calling out to Elizabeth in the street that his wife was dead would have been the height of impropriety, yet wasn't that exactly what he had been about to do? He would see her again soon, somewhere. He would fulfil every social obligation that he had in the hopes of meeting her again at some function, and the first subject he would address would be his marital status.

He apologised to Georgiana when he returned and they made their way back to the carriage. It was not until they were seated inside and returning to their townhouse that Georgiana finally questioned him.

"Can you not tell me who she is now?"

He sat back and gazed at the ceiling. "She is the answer to twelve years' worth of dreams."

Lizzie and Emma arrived back at the Gardiner house quite out of breath from the speed at which they had returned. Mrs Gardiner was surprised to see that her niece looked the worse for her outing.

"Lizzie! You really are ill," she said. "Would you like to lie down in my bedchamber?"

"No thank you, Aunt, it is only a headache," said Lizzie as she sank into a chair.

"I will make you a cold compress," said Mrs Gardiner. "Emma, you did not overtax her with your chatter, did you?"

"No Mama, but we did speak with a gentleman and his sister, and he had the sweetest baby."

"Who was it that you met?"

"His name was . . . Mr Darcy, was it not, Lizzie?"

"Mr Darcy?" asked Mrs Gardiner, stopping in her tracks on her way out of the room. "How do you come to know him, Lizzie?"

"I met him at Almacks last Wednesday," she answered quietly as her aunt eyed her intently.

"And on such a short acquaintance he spoke with you in the park?"

"He introduced his daughter and his sister," said Elizabeth.

"He did? Well, I must say that when we met him on our tour of Pemberley he was extremely civil. Such a shame about his wife, don't you think?"

Lizzie looked up suddenly. "What has happened to his wife?"

"Did you not know? She died shortly after the baby was born. The poor little child has never known a mother. I believe he has just come out of mourning to present his sister this season."

"He is a widower?" asked Lizzie, her aching head barely allowing the information to seep in.

"Yes he is, and now there are many young ladies in London hoping to become the mother of his little girl, although to mother a child is not their greatest goal. He is a very rich man." Mrs Gardiner went down to the kitchens, wondering all the while what would bring a man of Mr Darcy's stature to come for a walk in a park in their neighbourhood.

Lizzie was left with entirely different reflections.

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on Friday, 10 October 2003, at 12:33 a.m.

Lizzie had returned to Jane's townhouse in a daze. She had lain down for two hours with the cold compress in a darkened room, and despite her aunt's concerns was then able to assure her she was feeling well enough to undertake the carriage ride home. In fact, her headache had disappeared entirely, to be replaced by such a jumble of emotions that she could not make head or tail of them. Part of her told her she could hope, part of her told her she could dream, part of her told her she could love. Another part of her, deeper yet, warned her that no matter how she felt she was not worthy to be his wife and she must not let herself even think along those lines. The rational part of her told her that she must tamp down all these feelings - that discretion was her best recourse. For the first time since she had seen him again she knew that he was free, and she could think of him in a way she had never allowed herself before, but she was also increasingly aware of the awkwardness of her situation. She knew nothing of him - they were for all intents and purposes strangers to each other, and they had this thing between them, this memory of their intimacy, which constrained them even further.

As Lizzie entered the parlour Jane rushed up to her.

"You took so long that I was becoming worried and just about to send a note to our aunt. Have you forgotten that we are to go out to dine tonight?"

"Indeed I had." Lizzie attempted to clear her head.

Jane looked at her in concern. "Are you well enough to join us? I do not want to coerce you in any way."

"Jane, I am much better for my walk than I had ever expected to be. Here you see a new Lizzie who is not lost to you anymore. I am fully prepared to enjoy an evening in society conversing with friends, and especially with you. I feel I have sadly neglected you these last few days."

Jane regarded her closely and then smiled. "No, it is not a new Lizzie I see, but the old one, and I am glad to have you back."

"So now you would have it that I am old, Jane? That is a most unkind thing to say."

Jane laughed. "Come, we must make ourselves ready. Lydia has been at it this past hour already."

"We shall be no match for her, then," answered Lizzie, "but I think we have time to at least become presentable."

An hour later, when they were in the parlour again and waiting for the carriage to be brought around to the door, Jane was satisfied to see that Lizzie looked much more than just presentable. There was a glow about her that had long been missing, and an underlying nervous excitement that was barely perceptible but to those who knew her well. Jane herself was feeling far from placid, and her appearance too was enhanced by her anticipation of pleasure. Lydia was dressed very fine, but there was sulkiness in her countenance that the jewels at her throat and perfect arrangement of her curls could not conceal.

"I was certain Mr Wickham would be in town before now," she complained.

"Surely you did not expect him to follow you here," said Lizzie. "You must know that you have not the money to entice him."

"He has need of money, but no one can fault him for that," retorted Lydia. "If only you would settle some of your fortune on me, Jane, he would be sure to marry me."

Lizzie looked at her sister askance. "Lydia! Your jewels, your dress - everything you are wearing has come from Jane. Shall she buy you a husband now too? Would you really want to marry a man who is only interested in you to line his own pockets?"

"That is not true. He finds me singularly charming and has told me so on many occasions."

"So he has told me as well, and many another young lady, I have no doubt."

"You had better set your sights on a more deserving young man, Lydia," said Jane. "I noticed that Mr Greenly was quite taken with you at last evening's soiree."

"He was?" asked Lydia, losing her pout. "I do not quite recall him, for there were so many gentlemen paying me attention."

"I believe you were calling attention to yourself," said Jane. "I do wish you would behave more discreetly. But Mr Greenly appeared amused with your antics, and I noticed him watching you for the rest of the night."

"He was not that old dotard, was he?" asked Lydia.

"He is no dotard - perhaps he is a little older than your usual admirer, but he is no more than five and thirty."

"Is he rich?"

"I know nothing about him other than he appeared to be most amiable," responded Jane.

"I know not when you made these observations," said Lydia, "because I thought your attention never left Mr Bingley. Ooh la- there's a prize!"

"Who is Mr Bingley?" asked Lizzie, noticing the blush that rose in Jane's cheeks, but Jane was saved from replying by the announcement of their carriage. Lydia did not restrain herself from teasing her sister in front of the footmen, however, no matter how many quelling looks Lizzie threw her.

~

Georgiana gave her brother another sideways glance as they sat together in silence on their way to the dinner party. Since the meeting with Miss Bennet at the park there was something subtly different about him. It was as if a burden had been taken from his shoulders. His face was graced with a light smile but there was also a tense, expectant flavour to his movements. Georgiana thought about when he had gone running across the park after the young lady - she had never known him to act so impulsively. He had not offered an explanation for his action, and other than saying Miss Bennet was the answer to twelve years' worth of dreams, he had given her no information about the mystery lady. She hoped Miss Bennet would be at tonight's dinner party, which she knew was to be a large and lavish social event. Caroline had said that the Selfridges knew everybody who was anybody. Georgiana wondered if Miss Bennet fit that category - even though she frequented a park in the environs of Cheapside, she had also attended Almacks where the entrance policy was very sticky. And, come to think of it, had not she and her brother been walking in the same park? She again pondered his choice of park. Had Miss Bennet's presence been a coincidence, or had he been expecting to see her there?

Fitzwilliam's thoughts mirrored his sister's in that he hoped to encounter Elizabeth at the dinner party also. He knew there would be little chance for private conversation with her, but to be in the same room and see her smile, hear her laugh, was all that he desired. He needed to discover what exactly was her relationship with the protective gentleman who was squiring her at Almacks. Whatever he did next depended on the outcome of these inquiries.

He wondered how she would feel when he told her he was widowed, or if she knew already. It was possible that she could have learned it since he had seen her that morning. He knew his availability was the subject of society gossip and that it would not take much time for the information to come to Elizabeth's ear through these channels.

It had been so many years and he was now unsure of her love. Twelve years ago he could not doubt it, and when his mind went back to reflect upon their intimacy he knew that what they had shared was pure and good and right, and if that was not love then what was it? It was not lust, as his Cousin the Colonel would have him believe. Elizabeth had acted out of caring innocence, not wanton desire. It was love, and he still felt it as strongly as he did that day, but could she possibly feel the same after a separation of so many years, or had she formed a new attachment? Would he have to win her away from her gentleman friend? He supposed that the honourable thing to do, if she was now enamoured of someone else, would be to not disturb their happiness, but he had yearned for her for so long, he could not envision giving her up now that she was unexpectedly back in his life.

The carriage stopped outside the brightly lit home. Footmen jumped to the carriage door to assist the guests to alight and lined the stairs up to the imposing front door. Fitzwilliam had never before felt such tightness in his stomach in anticipation of a social event. He looked at Georgiana who was visibly displaying her nervousness, and squeezed her elbow reassuringly before they mounted the stairs together. "We will be among friends," he whispered.

She smiled rather tremulously. "I will be all right," she whispered in response, and he could see her back straighten and her face regain its former composure.

The rooms were brightly lit and very crowded. Mrs Selfridge greeted the Darcys with pleasure and then took Georgiana's arm and led them both into the next room.

"There is someone I would like you to meet, my dear," she said. "Miss Pawson has just come out also and knows very few young ladies in London. I think the two of you will hit it off famously."

Fitzwilliam blessed his hostess for taking the trouble to ensure that her young guests were comfortable in their unfamiliar surroundings. They found Miss Pawson in a quiet corner looking about herself apprehensively, with a simply dressed lady accompanying her. The introductions were made and then Mrs Selfridge hurried off to greet more of her guests.

It was the lady who spoke first. "I am so pleased that you have arrived, Miss Darcy. Aurelia and I were just saying how lovely it would be to meet someone. Isn't it strange that one can be in a crowd such as this but still remain all alone?"

Georgiana looked to her brother and then smiled nervously. "Indeed, I am experiencing quite the same thing. I find coming out to be a most nerve wracking affair, much to my brother's consternation."

"Do you live in London?" asked Miss Pawson timidly as her companion smiled encouragingly.

"I spend a good part of the year here, but I prefer the country. My brother and I live in Derbyshire."

"I live in Sussex and have rarely been to London," admitted the young lady.

The conversation looked about to wane again. "And do you also come from Sussex, Miss Lucas?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"Oh, no. I am from Hertfordshire, though I have been away from my home for almost two years. I am employed by the Pawsons as governess to their two younger daughters and companion to Aurelia now that she is out. Unfortunately Mrs Pawson's health is such that she is not able to attend many social functions with Aurelia so I find myself pressed into the duty."

By Fitzwilliam's observation, Miss Lucas appeared to be very much a gentlewoman and accustomed to moving about among people. "I would say Miss Pawson is very lucky to have you," he said.

Charlotte smiled at him, appreciating his civility in not snubbing her for being in service. She was used to being regarded as invisible at most of the functions she attended.

Rather than excuse himself and his sister as Charlotte had half expected, Fitzwilliam continued to talk with her about her home county which he had never the pleasure to visit. This developed into a conversation between Georgiana and Aurelia about their own homes and they soon found they had much in common in their love of nature. When Fitzwilliam felt his sister to be truly at ease he looked about the room, to see if Elizabeth was present, but instead saw his good friend Bingley conversing with the very gentleman he wanted to know more about. He excused himself, trusting that Georgiana was comfortable with her new friends, and walked across the room to join Bingley.

"Darcy! I was beginning to worry that you had turned your back on society!" cried Charles.

"Not when I have a sister to escort. Please extend my thanks to your sisters for including her while I was preoccupied."

"May I present Mr Andrews to you? I met him a few years ago when I was estate hunting. You may recall you were to have accompanied me, but you had business in Ramsgate."

"I remember distinctly. I am pleased to meet you, Mr Andrews. I was hoping to make your acquaintance."

"And I yours, Mr Darcy."

Bingley looked at them both speculatively but refrained from asking what was uppermost in his mind. "Mr Andrews was a visitor at that estate in Hertfordshire, Netherfield I think it was. I met him again the other night - he is a good friend of Mrs Fairborn and her sister whom I also met on that trip."

"Mrs Fairborn?" asked Fitzwilliam, looking at his friend.

"I have told you about her," said Charles. "I danced with her at Almacks."

"Oh, yes - the angel." He looked again at Mr Andrews. "And her sister?"

"Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Mr Andrews composedly. "I have been a friend of the family for seven years. The late Mr Fairborn was my closest friend."

"I see," said Fitzwilliam with equal composure. "And they reside in Hertfordshire?"

"You were unaware . . ." Mr Andrews let his voice trail off. "But are you not acquainted?"

Fitzwilliam was saved answering by the entrance of the very ladies of whom they were speaking. His heart leapt to his throat as he beheld Elizabeth looking lovely in ivory silk. There was a light in her countenance that had not been there in the morning and when her eyes met his they did not waver.

Mr Andrews looked from one to the other and knew that he was completely without hope. When Elizabeth's eyes finally broke free from Mr Darcy and rested on him he saw sadness and he smiled and held out his hand to her, not wanting her to witness the final collapse of his heart.

The reactions of both men and the young lady were lost on Bingley as he joyfully greeted Jane and turned excitedly to introduce her to Darcy. "Mrs Fairborn, I would like you to meet my very good friend, Mr Darcy."

When she introduced her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to the two of them as well, he was stunned to learn that his friend needed no introduction. The conversation continued in an almost surreal manner just as the earlier incomprehensible conversation he had witnessed between Darcy and Andrews, and it slowly dawned upon Bingley that Mrs Fairborn's sister was the same lady that Darcy had waltzed with that night at Almacks. He now knew why she had seemed so familiar when he had seen her that evening. The implications were not lost upon him. He had been so wrapped up in his discovery of Mrs Fairborn that he had given no more thought to that incident, but now it was more than apparent that Darcy had at last found the girl he had spent so many years looking for. Not only that, Bingley was able to quickly ascertain that the foiled trip to Hertfordshire would have brought them together sooner, before the fateful marriage to Anne.

Bingley was not the only one that was making these connections. Mr Andrews was intelligent enough to realise how close this meeting between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy had come then, the day of his failed proposal. Fitzwilliam carried the revelation even further than his friend Bingley. If they had met then the outcome may have been very different. His suffering would have been lessened by a couple of years and some momentous happenings in his life would not have taken place. He may not have been able to prevent Georgiana from being seduced by Wickham and he would never have married Anne. She might still be alive today, but Elizabeth Anne would never have been given life.

It is no wonder that with all this going on in the minds of the respective parties that most comments made seemed very disjointed and unrelated. Jane stood and listened in confusion, knowing that there was a past history between her sister and Mr Darcy about which she was completely unaware. The memory of Lizzie's late night confession slowly dawned upon her and she wondered if this was indeed the gentleman to whom she had been referring. She recalled Lizzie's words: we both knew it was love even then, at that young age, even though we knew nothing of each other . . . He was willing to marry me - but . . . I left - and I did not even tell him my name, or learn his own. Could it really have been Mr Darcy? Were they finally reunited? Jane's hopes for her sister's happiness rose - she was beginning to believe in love. She sighed and became all the more aware of the gentleman at her side and how his very presence affected her thoughts.

Conversation was almost impossible for Elizabeth too. She was trying to cope with talking to the man she hardly knew but loved, and the man she knew very well who had cared for her faithfully while she had set herself aside for that abstruse thing called love.

Striving to bring the conversation back to the realms of the drawing room they all inhabited, Fitzwilliam made a commonplace observation. "I understand you are from Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet."

"I am," she answered with relief. "I have lived there most of my life."

"Earlier this evening I met another lady from Hertfordshire, in fact I have left my sister talking with her and the young lady she is escorting. I wonder if you are acquainted at all."

"I cannot admit to knowing all the inhabitants of the county," answered Lizzie with a smile.

"No indeed, but this is a night of coincidences so I will try my luck. The lady's name is Miss Lucas."

"Charlotte? She is here?" cried Lizzie, her face brightening even more. "She is my very dearest friend and I have not seen her these two years! I must go to her."

"Will you allow me to lead the way?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"Certainly. Mr Andrews, will you not come and see Charlotte too?"

"I would like to very much," he said.

Fitzwilliam sat beside his sister and watched with pleasure as the two friends were reunited. Elizabeth simply glowed with happiness and her conversation was filled with laughter. Her friend was more placid, but in her own quiet way showed her delight. He was learning more about Elizabeth all the time. Her liveliness enchanted him and her wit showed her quickness of mind and intelligence. Everything he saw as he watched only served to deepen his love for her.

Charlotte could not help but notice Mr Darcy gazing at Elizabeth with such intensity. She found herself remembering a conversation she had with Lizzie years ago, after Mr Collins' outrageous proposal. She had intimated at the time that she had already lost her heart to someone and could not give it to Mr Andrews - for their conversation had soon left all thought of Mr Collins far behind. On this night Charlotte saw an Elizabeth that was bubbling forth with exuberance, not the more subdued Lizzie she was accustomed to, and she felt there must be more to such bliss than her own unexpected presence. Could this handsome gentleman be the one to whom Lizzie had been referring? That there was something between them was evident. Every so often Lizzie would cast him a warm glance, and he would smile ever so softly. She felt a pang for Mr Andrews who was making a valiant attempt to act as if he was unaffected, but she also felt a glimmer of hope awaken deep within herself.

Bingley and Jane had been left behind to enjoy a few moments of private discussion. His sweet angel remarked about the great coincidence that his best friend was acquainted with her sister and neither of them had been aware of it. He responded in kind and then led the conversation along paths that had more to do with her own concerns than those of her sister and his friend. They joined the others just before dinner was announced, and Jane was able to bestow upon Charlotte a hug and a warm smile before they were all separated by their hostess' elaborate seating plan.

Lizzie found herself seated some way away from Mr Darcy, but close enough to his sister for light conversation. She noticed that Lydia, who had attached herself to a younger set of friends as soon as she arrived, was now sitting beside a very solicitous gentleman in his mid thirties and appeared to be enjoying his attentions greatly. Jane was placed quite at the other end of the table next to people she was barely acquainted with and the gentleman who had brought such a bloom to her complexion was nowhere near to her. The one placement that really satisfied Lizzie was that Charlotte and Mr Andrews were side by side and in deep conversation.

There were many long glances down the length of the table during dinner, and occasionally eyes met. Lizzie had to admit that she was not the best of company as she was often distracted and caused her dinner partner to repeat himself on more than one occasion, but she truly could not help herself. Mr Darcy took up the greater part of her thoughts. She found his quiet self-sufficiency very attractive. She longed to converse with him on various topics and discover his interests and opinions. So far she knew him to be kind, caring, and generous from her own observation but she could sense great depths in him as yet unfathomed and she longed to know his innermost thoughts. He turned in her direction again and their eyes locked. Lizzie blushed with the knowledge that at that moment his innermost thought was of her, just as hers was of him.

After dinner it seemed like ages before the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. Lizzie had taken a seat beside Miss Darcy to further their acquaintance, while Jane had joined Charlotte and Miss Pawson. Lizzie had no sooner begun to ask the young lady about her flower garden when they were interrupted by the finely dressed haughty lady that she remembered from Almacks.

"Georgiana!" she cried. "It is such a crush here that I have been unable to get close to you up until now. I'm sorry that you have had to make do with conversing with strangers. I am here now to save you from that harsh fate."

"Mrs Ellington, I appreciate your concern but I have been well entertained. Do you know Miss Bennet?"

"We have not met," answered Caroline shortly.

"Then you certainly must," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet, this is Mrs Ellington, Mr Bingley's sister."

"I am most pleased to meet you," said Lizzie. "I have only just met your brother tonight but I find him very amiable."

"Charles knows how to charm the ladies," said Caroline.

"Miss Bennet is Mrs Fairborn's sister," said Georgiana pointedly.

"Indeed," was all Caroline had to say to that, and then she turned to Georgiana and continued as if dismissing Lizzie. "Do not forget that you and your brother are joining me for an evening at the theatre tomorrow night. He has been very desirous of escorting me to this particular play. Our tastes in literature are so exactly alike and Shakespeare is our very favourite playwright."

Georgiana could not help but think that this remark was aimed at Miss Bennet to lead her to believe there was much more between Caroline and her brother than truly existed.

"Which play is being performed?" asked Lizzie, attempting to overcome Mrs Ellington's rudeness.

Caroline was flustered for a moment and then replied, "It is either one of his tragedies or one of his comedies. They are all equally brilliant."

"But would you not agree quite different in nature?" said Lizzie with a sparkle in her eye that Georgiana did not miss.

"Georgiana you must tell me how little Elizabeth Anne enjoyed the present that I gave her," said Caroline, completely ignoring Lizzie's remark.

"She is still full young for jacks, but she likes the handkerchief they were wrapped up in very much."

Caroline turned to Lizzie and said in a condescending voice, "You will not know whom we are discussing. Elizabeth Anne is Mr Darcy's sweet, adorable daughter. I absolutely dote upon her."

"I met her only this morning," said Lizzie, effectively silencing Caroline for a full minute and giving Georgiana the opportunity to resume talking about her garden. Caroline found little occasion to enter a conversation that held no interest for her so after one or two comments aimed at bringing the attention back to her own concerns, she gave up and flounced off to discuss fashions with another well bred lady like herself.

When Fitzwilliam entered the room he was gratified to see Elizabeth and Georgiana conversing together. They both looked up and smiled welcomingly and he joined them. Georgiana offered him her chair, saying that she wanted to become better acquainted with Miss Pawson. He watched her go and then turned to Elizabeth, suddenly feeling all the awkwardness of the subject he was about to address.

"You know, of course that I have been married," he said. "Elizabeth Anne is proof of that, but . . ."

"I am aware that you were widowed shortly after her birth," said Lizzie quickly. "I am very sorry for your loss."

Fitzwilliam smiled at her, appreciating her directness. "Thank you. At least Anne was able to know her daughter and name her before she died. She was my cousin and her constitution was always delicate. Having a child of her own was her greatest wish."

He wanted to say more, to tell her that his love had never faltered, but it was too soon. They were just beginning to know each other. Their relationship, begun in such a backward manner, was still a very tenuous thing and needed to be developed with care and patience. He knew as much as anything that he loved her, but he also knew this time he had to take it slowly. She deserved all the respect and consideration of a proper courtship, and as he had now established that there was no impediment, court her he would.

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Friday, 17 October 2003, at 1:07 a.m.

Lizzie awoke to bright sunlight streaming in mellow shafts through the gaps in her curtains. She had slept soundly and contentedly. She could not remember her dreams, but she was suffused with such a feeling of wellbeing that she could not doubt they had been pleasurable. She arose from her bed and pulled open the draperies, freeing the sun to fill the room, its rich light now filtering to the darkest corners. The sky was bright and clear and brilliant blue. She longed to go out, and though she was in the city and had no access to the rambling wooded pathways that the countryside afforded, there was a park across the street that would have to suffice. She rang for her maid. People kept such late hours in town she knew she would be able to manage a walk before breakfast and not be missed.

"Sarah," she said, when the young girl had finished assisting her to dress, "would you be able to accompany me to the park?" While Lizzie was in the habit of traipsing about alone in the wilds of Hertfordshire, she knew that in London a companion was expected, be it only a maid.

"I would be most happy to, Miss," said the young girl shyly.

They set out, making their way quietly through the house where none but the servants were up and about. The butler returned Lizzie's greeting and let them out of the house. The street was quiet as most of the gentry were still abed and the park was virtually deserted.

Lizzie at first attempted conversation with Sarah, who hesitantly told her about her five brothers and sisters. "You can't be interested in the likes of us, Miss Bennet," she said softly, but Lizzie assured her that she truly was and listened attentively to the young maid's descriptions of her lively siblings. After Lizzie remarked that she must miss them very much they lapsed into a contemplative silence which suited the mood of both.

The park was small, but had a number of pretty walks amongst flowerbeds and plane trees. Birds sang high up in the branches and flitted to and fro through the open spaces. Lizzie held her face up to the sun and breathed deeply. She knew not what the day would bring nor when she would see Fitzwilliam again, but she could not doubt that if he did not visit in the next few days she would meet him at some event. It was inevitable. She knew he was destined for the theatre that evening, and hoped that he would be well pleased with his company. She could not suppress a smile, remembering the pretentious Mrs Ellington and her insinuations. From her own observation of them together the evening before, it was greatly apparent that the interest between that lady and Fitzwilliam Darcy was all on the lady's side. She knew she should be commiserating with the gentleman's misfortune to be burdened with such a companion for the evening, but her amusement at his expense won out.

Thoughts of Fitzwilliam naturally led to remembrances of the many looks they had shared the night before and Lizzie was soon caught up with visions of his eyes, warm and dark upon hers, his soft smile, the smooth plane of his cheek, the dark curls that refused to stay in place. She also recalled the attention he paid to his sister - caring and solicitous - and his thoughtfulness to bring Charlotte's presence to her own notice. He had an appreciation of wit and was capable of making the kind of subtly humorous rejoinder that Lizzie admired. All in all the previous evening had shown him to her in a very good light and she was left wanting to know him more. The only impediment was the memory of their indiscretion which, now that she was in his company again, did not fail to bring a blush to her cheeks.

Lizzie came in from her walk to find Jane just coming down to the breakfast parlour. She gave her pelisse and bonnet to Sarah and joined her sister in choosing from the array of dishes on the sideboard. The refreshing sleep and exhilarating walk had restored her appetite.

Jane smiled across the table at her. "It is so good to see you well and happy," she said.

"I am sorry if I have caused you worry," said Lizzie, reaching over the table and putting her hand over her sister's. She then lost all her seriousness and smiled. "It is a most glorious morning! You would have enjoyed all the birds and could have told me which was which for I do not know a house finch from a sparrow."

"We can go out again after breakfast with Lily and Rose," said Jane quietly. "Lizzie, it is so long since we have been alone together and there is something I need to share with you." She blushed lightly.

"Does it concern a certain gentleman I saw you conversing with so earnestly last night?"

"Not earnestly, Lizzie!"

"Well then, maybe it would be more accurate to say absorbedly."

"Lizzie, do you remember when my Henry died and I talked with you of love and I told you I had once met a gentleman who had attracted me greatly? I wondered if it were a trick of the light, or if I only thought of him because I was a little dissatisfied with my own husband or if it was because I was lonely, living so far from my family for the first time. I worried that I would be attracted by other men - that it was a flaw in my makeup - but no other gentleman I have seen before or since inspired me with the same feelings. Do you believe it is possible to recognise a kindred spirit at a glance?"

"I do know that I once saw a gentleman through a coach window - riding across a meadow with his dark hair flowing in the breeze - and my young heart was stirred, but whether it was coincidence or not that I met him again later and found even more than I had ever hoped for in his eyes, I know not."

"I never thought love at first sight could be a real thing."

"Love at first sight?" asked Lizzie. "Are we speaking of Mr Bingley?"

Jane blushed. "I believe it must be love, for I want to be with no one but him and when we are apart I think only of him."

"And when you are together of whom do you think?" Lizzie teased.

"I do not believe I think at all. I barely remember to breathe." Jane's eyes were shining brightly. "And I trust he feels the same way."

"The gentleman is clearly besotted with you," said Lizzie. "I wish you both very well. All that is left is for him to find a moment alone with you and mama shall be in transports once again."

"Oh Lizzie!" Jane was laughing and blushing, but not at all displeased with what her sister had to say. "I have confided in you - now are you going to tell me about your horseman?"

"I told you that same night."

"I remember - you said he wanted to marry you, but neither of you knew each other's name. Now I think you both do."

"Yes we do."

"And is he everything you remember him to be? You were both so very young at the time."

"I still know my heart - I was not mistaken, but now I have to come to know the man."

"And he you," said Jane in a whisper. She hesitated and then continued. "You need not answer me if you would rather not, but why when you danced with Mr Darcy at the assembly did you become so very overset, and yet last evening you were sparkling and radiant in his company?"

"We both thought the other married that night at Almacks." Lizzie looked at Jane earnestly and then continued. "I still do not know, Jane, where this will all take me, but I am pleased to at last see him again, and to know that he does not hold me in contempt. For now I am content with that."

"Lizzie, next you will say that now you can meet as common and indifferent acquaintances."

"I would never say that, Jane. Mr Darcy is far from common."

Jane was so happy that Lizzie could joke and laugh again that she forbore asking any more questions. Shortly they were joined by the little girls and spent a happy hour in the park with them. By their return Lydia was still not yet down. She had completely adjusted to London's fashionable hours; in fact it was hardly an adjustment because even at home in the country she practised them as often as she could manage.

~

"Who would you like to visit this afternoon?" Fitzwilliam asked his sister with a smile after she had emphatically stated that she hoped they would not need to drop in on Mrs Ellington and Mrs Hurst, as they were already obliged to spend their evening with them.

"Well, I was hoping to see more of Miss Pawson. I liked her quite well and it would be nice to have a friend my own age, but I would also like to become better acquainted with Miss Bennet." She glanced at her brother shyly.

"You are pleased with her?" There was eagerness in his look that warmed his sister's heart.

"Very much so."

"Then far be it from me to deny you - it shall all be as you wish. But you do not mind if Bingley accompanies us do you?"

"As long as he is not escorting his sisters."

Fitzwilliam almost laughed. "I do not think that would serve our purpose at all. He will be joining us for luncheon on his own and then we will set out."

During Georgiana's visit with Miss Pawson Bingley was extremely distracted, drumming his fingers upon his knees and one minute jovially asking a question of Miss Lucas, the next looking out the window in abstraction. Fitzwilliam smiled in amusement. He longed to hurry the visit as much as Charles but his duty was to his sister and he was very pleased with her attempts to forge a new friendship. A girl of her own age was just what she needed - all her life she had been too much in the company of those older than herself. Besides, Miss Lucas was a dear friend of Elizabeth; in talking with her about her home he felt he was learning more about the place where his love resided as well.

Charlotte was quite confident that she knew where the interests of the gentlemen lay so she was happy to oblige by speaking of the environs of Lucas Lodge, Longbourn and Meryton, without actually mentioning the name Bennet at all. She found the one's evident curiosity and the other's obvious distraction equally endearing. She only wished she had as much confidence in the happiness of her own future as she had in that of her two friends.

The visit was wrapped up in due time and Georgiana and Aurelia, who had progressed so far as to call each other by their given names, established plans to walk out in the park and spend an afternoon together. Upon descending the stairs of the Pawson townhouse, they passed Mr Andrews who was arriving for a visit. The gentlemen all tipped their hats and shared a polite greeting, then the Darcy party hurried off so as not to keep their horses waiting. Fitzwilliam was pleased at the order of his visits for he had a strong suspicion that he knew from where Mr Andrews had just come. As much as he respected the gentleman, he felt more comfortable if his pursuit of Elizabeth was not always to be under his watchful eye.

Mr Andrews stared after them before he banged the knocker. He had a good idea where they were about to call next - he had just come from Curzon Street himself and had been pleasantly surprised not to find his rival there. Not that he could really think of Mr Darcy as a rival, after all he was well aware that Darcy was already the victor - he had only come to claim what had long been his. Mr Andrews schooled his features to hide his sadness and regret. It was time to give Elizabeth what she had always wanted - his friendship and nothing more. He needed to find a new outlet for his love, and if he turned to a pretty, innocent debutante what wonder was there in that? He would not be the first gentleman crossed in love to do so, nor the last.

~

"Lord, our visitors are all so dreadfully dull this afternoon," said Lydia stifling a yawn. "Mr Andrews was more boring than ever - what can be the matter with him, sitting and barely speaking? He used always, at least, to have plenty to prose on about with you, Lizzie."

Jane looked swiftly at Lizzie and then responded. "Perhaps he is unwell, Lydia. It does you no credit to speak so unfeelingly about a dear family friend such as he."

"Well I see no reason not to speak my mind as I may. It is a blessing that I agreed to drive out with Mr Greenly this afternoon. Anything will be better than to be cooped up all day in this mausoleum. I hear a carriage now." She tweaked the curtains open and peeked out the window in quite a blatant manner that put Jane to the blush. "It is your lover so you shall be quite pleased, Jane," she said with a smirk, causing Jane to blush all the more and disclaim. "And he has brought his friend Mr Darcy with him, though why he needs to come I cannot comprehend. And a young lady."

"Miss Darcy, I imagine," said Lizzie with studied calm. "Please stop displaying yourself in the window like a hoyden, Lydia. Come and sit down - it is not yet time for Mr Greenly to arrive."

Lizzie thought that she was well prepared to face Fitzwilliam again, but the moment their eyes met the memory of that day in the cottage could not help but intrude and she felt all the awkwardness of her position once again. Could she not see his smile without thinking how his lips had felt upon hers and how much she longed for that feeling again? And more. She desired it all and that fact alone embarrassed her more than anything else. Even though she knew it was inspired by her love of him, she wondered for the millionth time whether or not those cravings were wanton. She could not look up to meet his eyes again until she cleared her head; she was certain her thoughts were written plainly on her face for him to see.

Fitzwilliam noticed how his look had discomposed her. Had he been wrong? Did she not welcome his friendship? The chill that this thought gave him ran deep within and curbed the ebullience he had been feeling ever since their previous meeting. He continued his greetings and allowed himself to be introduced to the youngest Miss Bennet before he absently took a seat close to Miss Lydia. His sister joined Elizabeth immediately and was smiled warmly upon. That did something to improve his humour but still he sat in confusion and indecision. It had all seemed so easy the night before. Right and inevitable - the only possible course. He was startled out of his thoughts by her sister who suddenly addressed him in a most forward manner.

"Mr Darcy, I have a bone to pick with you," she said defiantly.

He looked up at her quickly, wondering what she knew and was about to say. He shot an apprehensive glance at Elizabeth who had suddenly frozen and then looked back at the girl.

"I don't know how you can hold your head up in polite society after the despicable things you have done." Lydia eyed him with hostility. A hush fell over the room. Even Jane and Mr Bingley's attention had been caught.

"Lydia!" cried Lizzie "How can you speak to Mr Darcy in that manner?"

The colour had fled from Fitzwilliam's face. "Will you tell me what am I accused of, that I know how I am to reclaim myself?" he asked.

"Please say no more, Lydia. All that is left for you to do is apologise to our guest," said Lizzie firmly.

"After what he has done to dear Mr Wickham?" asked Lydia, tears pricking in her eyes. She turned to Fitzwilliam and continued, "Can you deny that you withheld his inheritance and ruined all his chances to be rich, leaving him with no recourse but to marry an heiress so that he can resume his correct station in the world? It is so unfair for I would gladly marry him."

Lizzie heard a gasp from Miss Darcy and she looked to see the girl white and trembling and near collapse. She reached for her hands and held them firmly while speaking to her in soothing accents.

Fitzwilliam regarded Lydia. "I do not know in what way that scoundrel represented himself to you or what lies he has told of his dealings with me, but I can only assure you that I have treated him with much more forbearance than he deserves." His voice was like ice. He looked over to Elizabeth and held her eyes in silent appeal. "I am an honourable man," he said with trembling softness.

"I never doubted that," said Lizzie. "And I never gave Mr Wickham's accusations any credence, even before I knew . . ." Her voice drifted off but there was only one person in the room in any confusion about what she meant.

Lydia looked from one to the other, completely at a loss and only just then realising the gross impropriety of her words. "I . . . I am sorry Mr Darcy. It was told to me with so much sincerity - there was truth in his every expression." Her voice faltered and she appeared close to tears.

Lizzie felt Miss Darcy stir beside her. "Miss Lydia," she said, the firm control of her voice surprising everyone in the room. Her brother looked at her in concern. "Please do not blame yourself. The man has such charm that he can fool even the most sensible young lady, but believe me that he is not to be trusted."

Fitzwilliam was at once by his sister's side gazing at her with loving solicitude. "Georgiana," he said softly.

"Do not worry, Fitzwilliam, I am fine." She smiled tremulously.

Bingley looked on helplessly as Jane did the best thing she could think of, order tea. Then she attempted to turn the focus of conversation by remarking on the lovely spell of weather that they had been experiencing.

Lizzie looked at her gratefully while Lydia collected herself and wiped her cheeks dry upon her hanky, and then proving how truly resilient she was, lifted the curtain once again and exclaimed, "Mr Greenly has come to take me out to drive. He has the most stylish perch-phaeton I have ever seen! I never would have thought it of him . . . my." This ended in almost a sigh. She looked back at the others and said somewhat shamefacedly, "I hope you will excuse me. It was pleasant to make your acquaintance." Then she ran from the room, her excited squeals could be heard as she greeted her escort and then silence as the outer door closed behind them.

Lizzie thought it a blessing that Mr Greenly had not been ushered into the room. For once Lydia's flighty behaviour had actually been of benefit to those around her. But her earlier comments were still inexcusable and regrettable. Lizzie hoped she could do something to lessen the damage that Lydia had wrought. The subject of Mr Wickham was patently very sensitive for the Darcys, and Lydia's audacity in bringing such accusations up in public was totally mortifying for Lizzie. How poorly it reflected on her and Jane to have a sister with so little propriety, such a lack of consideration. She and Jane both apologised again and again as tea was served and although true equilibrium was never restored to the gathering the visit continued with some semblance of normalcy.

The day had held so much promise but now that was all shattered. The guests left shortly afterward, and it is safe to say there was a huge amount of dissatisfaction left in the breast of each and every one of them. Lizzie went to her room to be disconsolate; Jane looked to her girls for solace; Georgiana scolded herself for still being so affected by the mention of Wickham's name; Fitzwilliam grasped Elizabeth's statement that she had never doubted him to his heart, though he knew he still had to prove himself; and Bingley wondered if he would ever contrive a moment alone with that celestial being who had won his heart.

Continued in the next section