Beginning, Section XII, Next Section

Chapter fifty-four.

Posted on August 16, 2008

Darcy, hearing the familiar voice behind him, paused mid-cast as he turned to view the visitor.

Nathan Bennet, prodding his cane towards a suspicious looking hump in the ground, stopped on the edge of the clearing. Despite the confidence in his tone, he clearly waited for an invitation to join them. Beckoning him with one hand, Darcy gave a tacit welcome as he lowered his fishing rod to the grass and moved towards the group.

Bingley and his wife were already crossing the distance, while Elizabeth had jumped to her feet, shading her eyes from the sun to better view the new arrival. As he came closer to the pavilion, she put her hands on her hips. "Nathan? What are you doing here?"

The young man grinned. "You needn't sound so pleased to see me, Lizzy."

"Naturally we are pleased," Jane said, "but your arrival was unexpected."

"Not to me." Darcy shook Nathan's hand in greeting. "How was your journey from Longbourn?"

"Longer than I expected. I had not realised quite how far you were from Hertfordshire."

Darcy imagined, to a young man who had lived most of his life within twenty miles of Kingston, posting across the British countryside would no doubt still be seen as an adventure. "I thought you might be here yesterday."

"I left later than intended. My Aunt Bennet insisted on writing to Jane and Lizzy, and my uncle sent a package for you, then Kitty and Mary decided they wanted to include a note to their sisters as well. Anyone would think I was travelling by mail coach."

"What? Nothing from Lydia?" Elizabeth did not appear to be surprised.

Nathan shook his head. "She went out early with Maria Lucas, to visit Pen Harrington. She would hardly want to spend time writing a stuffy letter when there is fun to be had," he said, accurately mimicking Lydia's tone, "but I am sure my aunt has provided you with all the news you might need. Hers took the longest to write."

Bingley grinned as he clapped the young man on the shoulder. "You are staying here with us? This is excellent news, Darcy! Nathan here is a bruising rider. He will show you what a good seat he has tomorrow morning."

"That all depends on whether Mr. Johnson has need of him."

Nathan smiled ruefully at Bingley. "Mr. Darcy is quite correct. He invited me here to learn whatever his steward can impart, and not to enjoy myself in frivolous activity ... although I hope a little frivolity might be permitted."

Darcy acknowledged it was indeed a possibility, before introducing Nathan to Georgiana and Mrs Annesley. The companion said everything that was expected, but his sister's welcome was less than hospitable. Inclining her head in a manner reminiscent of their Aunt Catherine at her worst, she acknowledged the introduction silently before turning her back on him and returning to the pavilion. While not quite a cut direct, her actions were just as unexpected. Darcy had never before witnessed such behaviour in his sixteen-year-old sister. She might have been shy for many years, but this was the first time he had ever seen her being intentionally rude to a guest.

Seeing her snub, Nathan Bennet's eyes widened and his face paled. However, he dealt with it well for his age, exhibiting no more than a frown in response before Mrs Bingley drew his attention as she solicited further news from Longbourn.

Having little interest in such parochial details, Darcy's eyes drifted---as they so often had in recent days---to Elizabeth, wondering whether she had observed the curious exchange between the youngest members of their party. Catching his eye, she comforted him with a knowing smile, which he found reassuring.

Whatever had just happened, it not did appear to worry Elizabeth.

Meanwhile Nathan Bennet, who had been invited to partake of the picnic table, swooped on the food like a labourer at the end of the harvest, devouring the leftovers as though he had not eaten for a week. It reminded Darcy of when he was nineteen, and ate with a similar wilful abandon.

Standing apart from the group, he watched Georgiana retreat to the pavilion, where she engaged in what appeared to his untrained eye to be a mighty sulk, the likes of which he had not witnessed since the events at Ramsgate. Unpleasant memories of that unfortunate time returned unbidden, until he was startled from his contemplation by the gentle touch of a hand on his arm.

"Do I interrupt?"

Finding Elizabeth in front of him, when least expected, he had to suppress an urge to pull her into his arms to absorb her comfort. Since their first evening at Pemberley, when she had literally run into his embrace in the upstairs corridor, Darcy had longed to hold her again, but had ruthlessly quashed his deepest desires, focussing only on being a good host for his guests. Were he to allow his feelings free rein and gather her to his breast, he knew he might never allow her to leave his side ... neither to eat nor sleep. Folding his hands behind his back---thereby removing temptation---he said, "I was thinking."

"So I assumed. About your sister?"

Gauging their distance from the pavilion as insufficient, Darcy began to walk towards the stream, ostensibly offering to show Elizabeth the fish. Smiling, she accepted his suggestion and together they sauntered across the clearing until they reached the reed-choked bank. The gurgling sound of water rushing over boulders relaxed him, but not as much as having Elizabeth by his side. "I assume you know of a good reason why Georgie should not be chastised for being so rude to our guest."

"I remember you once said if someone lost your good opinion, it was lost forever. I believe your sister has inherited the same trait." Although Elizabeth did not smile, her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, making it all the more difficult to hold himself back from kissing those teasing lips. "Do you remember when Georgiana and Nathan were first introduced at my aunt and uncle's house?"

His memories of that day were unclear, revolving, as they did, around his first sight of Elizabeth and Cresswell together. "Ah, yes. I had forgotten meeting him there."

"Unfortunately, Nathan's actions on that occasion left much to be desired. Having been previously taught by Captain Ardern that younger ladies---those not yet out in society---were not to be approached, my cousin interpreted the instruction literally and Georgiana felt his snub deeply."

"She was offended by his lack of attention."

"Yes, I believe she was, but not without good cause. He acted as though she was not there; a thoughtless gesture on his part. I can only excuse Nathan's behaviour on account of his age and inexperience."

Darcy relaxed, relieved that it was nothing more serious than a tiff between two children. "Neither will suffer any lasting harm. When Georgiana enjoys her come out she will realise not everyone in the ton has perfect manners. I doubt Nathan's rebuff will be the worst she ever meets with. Likewise, this experience will be good for him as well. My sister will not hold her grudge for long, but it will be long enough."

This time her lips did reflect the laughter in her eyes. "And in the meantime he must accept it and endure?"

"Yes. My father always allowed me to make my own mistakes and then taught me I must live with the consequences."

Elizabeth affected shock. "Mistakes ... you? A man without defect?"

"I think we long ago ascertained I am no such thing. No man can travel through life without making some error ... or harbouring regret over events in his past." He took a step closer, lowering his head. "For example, were I to live my life again, I might be more inclined to dance at a certain assembly at Meryton."

Her voice, when she spoke, had a breathless quality that pleased him immensely. "With the ladies of your own party?"

"No ... with you." His satisfaction grew as he saw the blush leap into her cheeks and reached out to take her hand, only recalling at the last minute how visible they were from the pavilion. Withdrawing it---and himself---with the greatest reluctance, he said, "As it is, I regret having only danced with you once, at Bingley's ball."

The shadow of a frown passed across her forehead, and he held his breath, wondering what she was thinking at that moment. He only released it when she said, "If you are so keen, perhaps you should hold a dance here at Pemberley?"

"Would you dance with me if I did?"

Her eyes glistened as her hand seemed to rise unconsciously to his arm. "Of course. Why would I refuse?"

He had wondered the same thing once. "You would not join me in the reel at Lucas Lodge."

"You had no intention of dancing then."

"Not in the general way, but for you I would have made an exception." Back then, she had piqued his interest, nothing more. It had taken her stay at Netherfield for him to realise the danger of paying her too much attention. Little had he realised then how much damage had already been done.

Her expression faltered, and she dropped her eyes to the ground, leaving Darcy cursing himself for a fool and wondering what memories his words had prompted.

As they drifted back to the pavilion he recognised how Nathan's arrival had changed the tone of the afternoon, but he could not regret the interruption. Seeing the pleasure on Elizabeth's face when he had read the last lines of the poem had made him realise just how careless he had been; how unguarded his emotions had become.

Every time he saw evidence of her growing affection, a war raged within him. His heart wanted him to fall to his knees and beg for her hand there and then, heedless of the consequences, but his doubts fought for control; whispering to him in the night, playing on his fears, bombarding him with visions of a future without Elizabeth in his life.

A future that might yet be his if her memories returned before he had succeeded in winning her love.

It was still too soon. He knew that Elizabeth was not indifferent to him. He might even go as far as to say she was fond of his company.

But did she love him enough to forgive him when he told her the truth about that day at Rosings?

Darcy recalled his last week in town, when his cousin had sought him out at White's to congratulate him after hearing the news of Cresswell's engagement. Richard, finding him sitting alone, had called for champagne.

"What are you doing here, Darcy? I thought you would be celebrating Cresswell's betrothal. Miss Bennet has not found another suitor already, has she?"

"No ... no, everything is well. She will be joining Georgiana in the carriage on Saturday morning. It is all arranged."

"Then why do I get the feeling you are not happy about it?"

"I am happy ... very happy, in fact. I only wish we were going tomorrow."

Richard had grinned as he held up his glass in toast. "Cannot wait, eh? Well, that is understandable. I still cannot comprehend why you do not offer for her now, and be done with it. Yes ... yes, I know all that rot about waiting until you get to Pemberley. I have heard enough on that subject from mother. I just do not understand what difference waiting will make."

Darcy sighed and shook his head. He had been unable to answer Richard's question then, for he had not known either. Once he had made it, the decision to postpone his proposal had seemed the right one. Waiting another week until they were safely within the bounds of Pemberley had felt like the final penance he needed to perform before he could offer himself, his hand and his heart to Elizabeth.

But they had now been in Derbyshire for almost a week, and he was no closer to making her his wife now than he had been before.

Elizabeth's presence in his home was both a comfort and a curse. Being able to see and speak with her every day filled him with such contentment, while watching her returning to her room every evening felt like he was tearing a limb from his own body.

No matter how much time they spent together, it was never enough.

He had thought that their sojourn in the country would give him the confidence he needed to take the final step and offer himself to Elizabeth, but it had not worked out quite as he had expected. Being able to spend as much time as he could spare with her had only made him more determined not to lose her, while the threat of her memory returning hung over him like a headman's axe. One word ... one look from him might be the stimulus needed to remind her that he had offered for her hand once before.

And he dreaded what that moment might bring.

When the party returned to the house later that afternoon, Elizabeth and Jane soon found a quiet corner in the south parlour where they could peruse the letters Nathan had brought them from Longbourn.

Kitty's spoke of summer parties, dances, and evenings spent with old friends. The list of the gentlemen she and Lydia had flirted with was long and undistinguished, although Nathan's absence---he had stayed a few days longer in town, and travelled to Longbourn separately---was mentioned more than once. Elizabeth, recalling Kitty's feelings for their cousin only a few weeks earlier, had wondered whether her opinion had changed since spending time in London, but it appeared she was as smitten as ever.

Mrs Bennet was an indifferent correspondent at best; always happier to receive news than to impart it. They were therefore surprised to find she had exerted herself to write two sheets, quite through, and they both bent their heads over the page, reading it together.

Longbourn, 3rd August,

Dear Lizzy

I received your letter yesterday, and also a longer one from your sister in Scarborough. I hope she and Mr. Bingley have now arrived safely in Derbyshire and please tell her I will expect to hear from her soon about the party Mrs Harrison arranged for their leaving.

I do think you could have written considerably less of the splendid hills and gardens thereabouts and a little more of Mr. Darcy. While Mr. Bennet assures me the Derbyshire countryside is as pretty as anyone could wish to see, I doubt not that one hill or valley looks very similar to another, and all gardens are surely alike.

Gentlemen, however---especially those who enjoy a reputed income of ten thousand pounds a year---are less common, and you should remember that fact when you have to make the choice between a pretty view and spending time in the company of your host. Mr. Darcy seems a very amiable sort once you get to know him, and not as lofty in style as he is in stature. It can be no hardship for you to attend to him whenever possible.

Jane laughed as she read her mother's words. "Well, Lizzy? Is it a hardship to attend Mr. Darcy?"

Blushing, Elizabeth ignored her sister's teasing tone, turning her attention instead to the rest of the letter.

You say Pemberley is a fine house, and after viewing Mr. Darcy's townhouse I cannot doubt it, but you do not say how fine. I am not one to brag about my daughters' good fortune, but you must satisfy my curiosity as to the number of servants at P. as Lady Lucas is convinced there can be no more than five and twenty, and I have assured her Mr. D. must employ forty at least. How many French cooks does he have?

Jane grinned. "I did not realise Mr. Darcy had a kitchen full of French cooks. Little surprise the food is so delightful."

"Only Monsieur Antoine." Elizabeth had no idea how many servants he employed, but Mrs Reynolds would know. She decided to ask the next time they spoke.

Her sister looked thoughtful. "Do you think we should employ a French cook at Netherfield? No, perhaps not. Mama might wish to visit more often."

"And you would not want to encourage her," Elizabeth agreed, relieved to hear the subject turning to someone other than their host.

I told you in my last that Mrs Howard brought her second eldest son when she called on our return. Since then we have had a number of callers, particularly young gentlemen. Mr. Robinson even brought his plain-faced nephew. I am sure you remember him, Lizzy, for you danced with him at the Christmas assembly and was less than complimentary about his unfortunate speech impediment. Not only that, but when Lady Lucas invited us for tea yesterday, John Lucas joined us in the drawing room and was very prettily behaved. No doubt my girls' seven thousand pounds is a mighty inducement, although I swear I will never forgive him for the trick he played with the snails in the salad during my al fresco three years ago.

Elizabeth sighed. "Will she ever forget those snails?"

"No and neither would you if you found one looking at you from the end of your fork. Charlotte's brother could not sit down for a week when his father heard what he had done."

They both laughed at the memory as Elizabeth brought forward the second page.

Of course, I am well aware that the girls' larger dowry is the reason for the increase in the number of gentleman callers we are seeing, and I can only give daily thanks to your uncle for his generosity. Kitty and Lydia will be distraught once Nathan leaves us for Derbyshire. He has only been home a few days but they have all been getting on so well, although I believe Kitty has the preference in his eyes. She has asked her father for riding lessons, and I know she only does it so she can ride with Nathan, for she---like you, Lizzy---has shown no interest in the pastime since you were all children.

Unfortunately, Mr. Bennet says he can spare neither a single horse nor man to teach her while they are getting the harvest in. However, your Aunt Phillips has had an idea that someone else might be willing to take on the task, and she intends to ask our neighbours. If it could be arranged so, I will be content; for nothing would please me more than for one of my daughters to be mistress here when I am gone.

"Mama still seems determined to force one or other of her daughters onto Nathan. I feel sorry for him, for at his age marriage should be the last thing on his mind."

"Nathan might yet grow to appreciate either Lydia or Kitty. He has many years before he must consider marriage and stranger things have happened," Jane pointed out.

I hope one of you will drop a kind word to Mary, for she pines the loss of Mr. Newman. We have no more sermonising at the dinner table---only sighs. I know not which is worse. Mr. Bennet is quite out of patience with her, and spends more than his usual number of hours in his book room. The only benefit I can see is that she has given up practicing the piano, which as you know, I found very trying on my nerves. It is a shame I did not think to invite him to call on us when they last met; to be sure we are regretting it now.

However, perhaps this is not a bad thing after all. Mr. Newman told me himself that he currently has no income but the allowance his father gives him and most of that is spent on books. He only becomes truly eligible once he comes into his own inheritance in two years time, which might as well be ten as far as Mary is concerned.

"Poor Mary! Her three hundred pounds a year would barely be sufficient for two maid-servants."

"How many servants does a newly married couple need, Jane? Not everyone can be so fortunate as to live in a house the size of Netherfield, with a full staff and everything taken care of."

Jane looked pointedly around the parlour they sat in before giving her sister a knowing look. "But living on Mary's dowry they could only rent a modest cottage."

"What does the size of their fortune matter if they are in love?"

"Mr. Newman currently lives under his father's aegis. I would think less of him if he were happy to live on Mary's money alone. Perhaps, for once, mama is being sensible when she says they cannot yet afford to marry."

Your Aunt Phillips tried to cheer her up by introducing Mary to one of your uncle's clerks---a fine looking young man with the fairest hair I have ever seen upon a gentleman---but the result was disappointing. She showed not the slightest particle of interest. A word from you or Jane might cheer her up.

"I do feel for Mary. It is unfortunate that, when a gentleman should finally make himself agreeable, the circumstances fall against him. You were introduced to Mr. Newman. What is he like?"

Elizabeth described Mary's first evening in his company, at Rempstone House, and his subsequent visit to Gracechurch Street, just at the time when she had most needed a diversion. "I think charitably of him. He is bookish, of course, but that is what attracted Mary the most. His manners are just as they should be, and yet he has no fear of Mama. He would make Mary an excellent husband if not for them having to wait the two years."

"Two years is nothing. A cousin of Mrs Harrison was betrothed to her husband for five years before they could afford to marry. In an ideal world a long engagement is to be discouraged, but sometimes it becomes necessary. Surely it is best for Mary to secure this young man now while his worth remains small."

"Secure him? Jane, you are beginning to sound like Charlotte. You had no thought in your head about securing Mr. Bingley when you fell in love with him."

Jane had the decency to blush. "No, but now, as a married woman, I realise how important it is to be married well. I wonder what Mary has written?" She tore the wafer and opened the single page from their sister. One glance was enough for them both to recognise how unhappy she was. Although Mr. Newman was not mentioned by name, Mary went so far as to concede that she could find nothing to interest her at home and had been far happier in Town.

"Poor Mary. She seems to hold little hope of seeing him any time soon. I wish we could do something for her. Perhaps when you and Charles next go to town, you could take Mary with you?"

"What makes you think I will be the next of us to visit town?" Jane's smile widened as she continued in a teasing tone, "When you marry Mr. Darcy---"

"Jane!" Elizabeth's spirits sank with the knowledge that she could not confirm the news her sister wished to hear, despite it being her fervent desire.

"Please do not keep me in suspense!" Her sister squeezed her hand. "He must have asked you by now."

Not knowing what else to say, Elizabeth could only shake her head mutely.

"No? Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry. I did not mean to torment you so dreadfully, only after this afternoon, and that beautiful poem, I assumed ..." Jane sighed as she wrapped a sisterly arm around her shoulder. "I would not hurt you for the world."

"I know. I only wish I did have something to tell."

They sat together for a moment in an awkward silence, before Jane said, "He intends to propose, I am sure of it. I have never seen any man more in love than Mr. Darcy."

Her sister 's sympathy made it difficult for Elizabeth to maintain her silence on the subject that occupied much of her thoughts each day. "Do you really think so?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, of course. His admiration is clear for anyone to see."

Surprised and gratified by her sister's conviction, Elizabeth found herself admitting her deepest doubts. "If that is true, why does he remain silent? What is he waiting for, Jane? Could he believe I do not care for him? This afternoon, when Mr. Darcy read the words of that poem, I thought he might be saying he did not know my feelings. What should I do?"

Jane shook her head. "Be patient, Lizzy. I am sure he will come to the point eventually, and when he does, I promise you will know what it is to be truly happy.

hr

Chapter fifty-five.

Posted on August 23, 2008

When Nathan Bennet woke the next morning, it took him a few moments to recall where he was. The proportion and elegance of the room he had slept in reflected the property of which it formed a small part. He had seen many engravings of fine country residences in the copies of The Gentleman's Magazine or Ackermann's Repository that had found their way to Kingston, but had never expected to sleep in one.

His stomach rumbled, prompting thoughts of the breakfast that would eventually be laid out downstairs. Fresh bread, toasted and spread with creamy butter, honey, cake, egg and perhaps some of the beef served cold from the night before. If it were half as good as dinner the previous evening, Nathan knew he would not go hungry.

A noise came from the dressing room beyond. Although he had been engaged only two weeks earlier, his new valet had adapted well to Nathan's habits. Despite the many late evenings out with his uncle Henry, he had never quite lost the habit of rising early, and Harleigh would soon be on hand to shave and dress him; a novelty Nathan had not yet accustomed himself to.

Nathan's arrival at Pemberley the previous day had been greeted with surprise and pleasure by his cousins, and Bingley seemed overjoyed to see him again. Mr. Darcy had extended the invitation while they were in town, so he had no doubts of his welcome from that quarter, but from the moment of their introduction, Miss Darcy made him feel decidedly uncomfortable.

At dinner the previous evening, things had been no better. While Jane and Lizzy were seated on his left and right---eager to hear what he had been doing since their last meeting---the small size of the party meant him being placed opposite Miss Darcy, where he had been forced to suffer her quiet disapproval of his presence. While she had been careful not to draw the censure of her brother or the others around the table, her chilly silence towards him spoke volumes. It had taken no great intellect on his part to deduce that his arrival was as unwelcome as finding moths in her hatboxes. Miss Darcy might not yet be formally out---even though she was the same age as Lydia---but he had never met anyone more proud or disdainful.

Lizzy, of course, had been less than sympathetic to his plight, pointing out as they retired that he only had himself to blame. Unfortunately, it was true. He had interpreted his Uncle Henry's advice about schoolroom chits literally and had made a point to avoid them whenever possible. In this, he had been successful; at least until Miss Darcy arrived at Gracechurch Street. Now, of course, she was in the comfort of her own home, and enjoyed the weight of her brother's authority behind her. Nathan knew he would have to be careful, for she looked like the sort who might enjoy getting him into trouble on the flimsiest of excuses.

As he climbed out of bed to succumb to Harleigh's ministrations, he wondered idly whether Miss Darcy's habit was to take breakfast early or late.

He would have to find out so he could avoid her.

Shaved, dressed and ready to face the world, Nathan descended the grand staircase, upon which he met his host.

"Good morning, Bennet. Did you sleep well?"

Nathan admitted he had slept too well, almost forgetting where he was.

"And your accommodation is acceptable?"

"Of course. My room is perfect. Mrs Reynolds has been very kind."

"You remind her of me, I think. She remembers when my father instructed Mr. Wickham---our steward at that time---to oversee my education in estate matters. I was a little younger than you, of course, and found the whole experience profoundly dull, but I was grateful for my father's foresight when his early death put Pemberley into my hands. While Longbourn is undoubtedly smaller, what you learn here can be equally applied to properties of any size."

Nathan nodded. "To be honest, I find myself grateful for an occupation. I was used to helping my father on the plantation. Being idle sits ill with me."

"I do not fear you growing bored. Mr. Johnson will have plenty to keep you occupied, I am sure. Come, I will introduce you to him." Mr. Darcy appeared to be in a good mood, despite the shower of rain that kept everyone else indoors. They walked together through the halls and corridors until, taking a side door, they crossed towards the stables.

The steward lived in a small detached house, near the dairy and brew house, where he resided with only his wife for company. Mr. Johnson was heavily built, with a square jaw and the florid complexion of one who spends his days outside in all weathers. Ledgers and maps surrounded the oak desk, while tomes of property law and enclosure rolls vied for space with well-read volumes of Shakespeare and Donne. However, despite an atmosphere of quiet efficiency, Nathan noted the twinkle in the man's eye when he promised Mr. Darcy he would allow his young assistant no rest or quarter once he returned from breaking his fast.

Thus the day continued, with Nathan listening carefully as Mr. Johnson imparted his views on the rights and obligations of tenants and their masters, explaining how the bond of trust fell upon all parties if the land was to be farmed successfully. His eyes were opened to a number of truths about land management before Nathan received permission to return to the other guests at the end of the day.

Before dinner that evening, Nathan found Mr. Darcy in his study, looking through papers of his own. He offered a packet wrapped in brown paper and string to his host, who turned it over in his hands. "What is this?"

"Something I had packed at the bottom of my luggage. My uncle sent it. He said you were expecting it."

Removing the string Mr. Darcy opened out the paper to reveal a small leather-bound book, worn at the edges. His eyes lit with recognition. "John Bennet's journal."

"Yes. Uncle thinks it is of sufficient interest to be published. We would appreciate your opinion." Nathan watched as Mr. Darcy turned the pages, filled with his father's regular, close-written hand, before placing the book to one side.

"Thank you. Ever since your uncle told me of it, I have been looking forward to reading it." He folded his hands on the desk. "Did you find your work today terribly tedious?"

Nathan smiled. "No, actually. It was all rather interesting. Mr. Johnson is a clever man."

"That he is. So you will not object to doing it again tomorrow?"

"Oh no. Tomorrow we will ride out to the site where they are demolishing the damaged cottages. Mr. Johnson told me about the fire, and showed me the plans for the new buildings. We are to monitor the progress of the labourers."

"Very good." Mr. Darcy carefully aligned the silver letter opener parallel with his pens, before clearing his throat. "What other news do you have for me?"

Nathan knew what he asked. When the Bennets returned to Longbourn, he had stayed a few days longer at Rempstone House and had been in a perfect position to gauge the results of Mr. Darcy's efforts on Elizabeth's behalf. "The gossip had died down considerably before I left, assisted, no doubt, by the announcement of Cresswell's betrothal and the fact that you were seen driving Lizzy in Hyde Park. Is that why you took her there? So you would be seen together?"

Mr. Darcy shrugged, depreciating his own involvement. "It crossed my mind that it would not hurt our cause. Miss Bennet seemed unaware of the significance of our destination and did not appreciate how it might be perceived by the ton. Hopefully she need never know about those lies."

"She will not hear of it from me. Uncle Henry offered to spread it about that you were all but betrothed to Lizzy, but I told him he had caused more than enough trouble already without bandying around another false story. I was so angry; it was all I could do not to hit him."

"Henry might be a sad rattle, but you should take care. He has age, experience and, more importantly, weight on his side."

Nathan was interested to note that Mr. Darcy had offered no denials to his uncle's suggestion of a betrothal rumour, only that Henry Ardern might prove a formidable opponent if he chose to challenge him. "Yes, Cresswell said the same, so he took me to Bond Street so I could learn from Jackson how to throw a punch properly."

Mr. Darcy's lips curled into a smile. "He did? Good for him."

"Yes, but I was having so much fun in the ring that when I got home I forgot all about hitting Henry."

"I would not have let him off quite so easily."

Nathan felt obliged to offer a word in support of his uncle, regardless of how much he might agree with Mr. Darcy. "He was full of remorse for what he did ... swears he will never touch a drop again, or say a word out of turn."

"And you believed him?"

"Well ... no. Certainly not the bit about never drinking, but I do believe he was sincere when he said he had learned his lesson about spreading gossip."

"As much as I hate to admit it, I know there was nothing malicious in Henry's actions. Your uncle did not intend to harm Miss Bennet's reputation, although that does not excuse his thoughtless behaviour. He never did learn to watch his words in his ebriety and chose a week when gossip was thin on the ground. This event might encourage him to guard his tongue in the future, but I doubt it will cure him of the habit altogether, regardless of his contrition."

Nathan shook his head. "Would you believe he has even been considering marriage himself? He admitted it was about time he should settle down and set me a good example."

Mr. Darcy laughed out loud. "God help us! I pity the woman who takes him on, for I doubt he knows the first thing about being a husband. Does Cresswell now accept his impending nuptials?"

Nathan recalled the last time he had seen the Viscount. "No, not really; more resigned to his fate, I would say. When not making the obligatory visits to Miss Jasper, he spends most of his time at White's, drowning his sorrows. I am sorry now I misjudged him."

"No more than I, although we based our assumptions on the evidence available to us. I had come to believe him capable of anything, despite our previous friendship."

"I suppose not everyone is fortunate enough to have equal felicity in marriage---"

At that moment, the door burst open, and Bingley walked in. "Unlike my friend here," Mr. Darcy added, waving a hand towards him, "Who is the happiest married man in the world. Is that not correct?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course." Bingley stood behind an empty chair, gripping the back for support. His countenance was grave. "What news from town?"

Seeing Nathan's confusion, Mr. Darcy explained, "I had to tell Bingley about the rumours surrounding your cousin. His sister tried to use the situation to further her own ends, and to Miss Bennet's detriment. As a result, she is no longer welcome in my house."

"Nor mine, now I know what she is capable of," Bingley said. "If I had been there I would have done more than just cut her. I would have strangled her."

Mr. Darcy smiled at his friend. "That would have been your prerogative, of course, but not necessary, I assure you. I am quite content to simply avoid Miss Bingley's company in future."

"I cannot say I blame you. If you want her punished, I could take away her allowance and send her to live with my Aunt Dorothy."

"Have you no compassion for your aunt?"

Bingley laughed. "You are right. She does not deserve such torture. Besides, with only the Hursts for company, Caroline is already relegated to the fringes of good society, for Hurst is only interested in socialising where a good meal is involved, and his favourite meals are served at his club. You were her entrée into the ton, and she has queered any chance she might have had now."

"Come now, Bingley. I do not expect you to cut all connection with your sister."

"I know, but Jane is the most important family I have now, and Lizzy is just as much my sister as Caroline was. She went too far and I will do what I must."

Nodding his acceptance of his friend's decision, Mr. Darcy encouraged Nathan to repeat the news for Bingley's benefit. When he heard how Darcy had taken Elizabeth through the park during the fashionable hour, his eyebrows rose in surprise, but he made no comment.

The conversation then moved onto other matters, and Nathan excused himself to dress for dinner, determined to do justice to Monsieur Antoine's skills. He only hoped the Ice Queen of Pemberley had thawed a little, otherwise she was bound to give him indigestion.

In the days following Nathan's arrival, life for Elizabeth settled into a comfortable pattern.

As she and Mr. Darcy both tended to rise early, they had fallen into the habit of taking a walk in the gardens---always within view of the house---or contemplating the events of the previous day on the rustic seat surrounded by roses. To her disappointment, nothing of great import was ever discussed, but she felt their understanding of each other grow with each different topic of conversation. They would then join the others for breakfast before Mr. Darcy left to complete his daily business.

Elizabeth and Jane called on their aunt's acquaintance at Lambton and, on Sunday, enjoyed a tour of the little church, guided by the curate. The following day, Bingley took them in the chaise to view the cottages that were being rebuilt, while Georgiana carried a basket of provisions from Mrs Reynolds for the two displaced families who were lodging nearby. In the evenings, after dinner, they played charades, cards and rhyming games, or moved to the music room where the ladies could exhibit their skills for the entertainment of the gentlemen.

One afternoon, when rain again kept them all indoors, Elizabeth joined Georgiana in the library, examining some of the older books in the Darcys large collection. Her attention straying from the Shakespeare folio in her hands, she gazed out through the French doors leading onto a side terrace overlooking a large expanse of lawn rising up to the woods beyond. "I think the gardens here are every bit as elegant as the house," she observed with a satisfied sigh. "There is a calm, restful quality to them. At home I had to walk many miles to enjoy a similar sight. The pond set in the front prospect is delightful."

Georgiana agreed. "If you stand on the opposite side of the valley there is a little spot which is just the right position to see the house reflected in the water. I remember Fitzwilliam took me there many times when I was young, and I was sure the house had fallen into the pond. He told me the reflection of the house was where the water fairies lived, and at the time I believed him. He can be very convincing when he wishes to be."

The tone in Georgiana's voice suggested that she did not think her brother was making enough effort to convince Elizabeth of his affections. Although she never commented on it, it was clear that the young girl waited with growing impatience to hear she would soon have a sister.

Unfortunately, despite her growing friendship with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could not give her the reassurance she so desired, so instead changed the subject. "Do you have any other surprises hidden in the grounds? Any hidden caves or follies I should know of?"

"Follies? You mean like a tower or a grotto?"

"Yes, something like that, or even a ... a temple." Rarely did a day go by when Elizabeth did not think about the one in her dreams; the marble edifice where she always met Mr. Darcy.

"Oh no, we have nothing like that now. Grandmother Darcy had a hermitage built, but the hermit only lived there for a few years, and it fell down before I was born. There are one or two cottages sitting on the edge of the park, but people live in those ... old servants and the like."

Having convinced herself that her dreams could be a portent of things to come, Elizabeth's hopes of a romantic proposal within the shelter of a secluded marble temple faded.

"But I believe Aunt Catherine has one somewhere in the grounds at Rosings. Did you never see it during your stay?"

"No, I am sorry I did not."

"I would have thought Fitzwilliam might have shown it to you while you were staying so close; perhaps during one of your walks?"

"Oh, we did not walk together then. I stayed with my friend Mrs Collins at the parsonage, and only occasionally did we go to Rosings for tea." As Elizabeth spoke these words, she realised she was not being entirely truthful. Although they had never consciously walked out together, more than once, during her rambles in the park, she had come across Mr. Darcy, quite by accident. She recalled his odd, unconnected questions interspersed with long silences. How very different that Mr. Darcy had been from the man she now looked forward to seeing every morning.

How different, also, were her feelings for that man.

She loved him, with all her heart. Why, otherwise, would her dreams be so full of him? Was that what love was? To want to be with him always; to ache with loss when he left the room; to crave the feeling of his hand on hers?

If that was love, she felt she might run mad with it, for it had begun to consume her.

Mr. Darcy had been kind and attentive, seeming to receive as much delight from her company as she did from his, but he had still not brought himself to the point. Elizabeth wondered why that should be the case. What was he unsure of? She could smile and take pleasure in his company, but she feared a more overt demonstration of her feelings would be frowned upon. It was up to him to take the next step. She could only hope it mirrored the declaration she had dreamed of so often.

"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." She now knew Mr. Darcy's words in her dream as well as she knew her own name, and it was only a pity her nocturnal expeditions never went past that point. Whenever he declared his love, she either woke, or her dream subtly shifted to something else. She would have loved to know what he might say next. Some nights she had lain awake in the darkness, acting out the scene between them, imagining the form his proposal might take and practicing her own response. She always drifted back to sleep with a happy smile on her face.

Belatedly recalling where she was, she smiled at Georgiana. "I sometimes dream of a temple," she said wistfully. "In a beautiful garden, similar to the gardens here at Pemberley. Its base is round and the domed roof is supported by tall columns. In the centre is a little room with a statue of a goddess on a pedestal. It is surrounded by apple trees laden with white blossom."

"Oh, it sounds lovely! I wish I could have dreams like that. Mine are always dull."

Elizabeth could never describe her dreams as dull. They had grown to represent her hearts greatest desire.

The library door opened, startling them both from their conversation. Nathan poked his head into the room to ask if they knew the whereabouts of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was forced to admit she had no idea where he might be.

"You might try asking one of the other servants." Georgiana spoke over her shoulder, without giving Nathan a second look.

Nathan's face darkened into a scowl as he curtly apologised and left the room. Elizabeth shook her head in dismay. "Do you not think he has suffered enough?"

Georgiana looked up, surprised by her comment. "Who?"

"Nathan."

The young woman was silent as she turned the pages of her book, her attention fixed on the words. Finally, she said, "Mrs Annesley told me I should not give undue consequence to young gentlemen, lest I be considered a flirt."

Elizabeth pursed her lips together to stop from laughing. Georgiana Darcy was about as far away from being a flirt as any young girl could be, and she should know, for her youngest sisters were practiced flirts. "You know Nathan is not a servant."

"He is helping Mr. Johnson, is he not?" Elizabeth heard a defensive tone in the young girl's voice. "I thought your cousin came here to experience the life of a steward."

"He is here to learn from your brother's steward. There is a difference." She had no doubt Georgiana was still smarting from Nathan's behaviour in town, but it was past the time when they should bring their antipathy to an end.

The following morning Elizabeth was grateful to see the sun rise on what promised to be a glorious summer's day. Dressing quickly, she arrived in the foyer hoping to find Mr. Darcy waiting for her, as he had been the previous two days. Just as she reached the last step, the gentleman in question entered the hall, his attention fixed on a piece of paper in his hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I see the weather is once again dry. Where shall we go today?"

Mr. Darcy folded the page and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. "I am afraid our walk will have to be postponed. I have a small matter which, reluctantly, I must take care of first."

Although she knew he was a busy man, with many calls on his time, Elizabeth could not hide her disappointment that estate business should spoil a time of the day she had come to treasure. "I understand. Perhaps I will take my book to the library and read for a while."

Pulling his gloves through his hand, Mr. Darcy seemed to be in two minds about leaving the house without her. "You are, of course, welcome to accompany me if you wish, but in this particular circumstance, I ... I was not sure if our destination might cause you discomfort."

"Are you saying it is not safe to join you?"

"Oh no, you will be in no danger. I am only concerned you might hear something that you would rather remain ignorant of. I would wish to shield you from the less than pleasant side of life."

"I can assure you, sir, I am not such a milksop." Elizabeth smiled to take the sting from her words. "If you would rather go about your business on your own, then say so, but do not use my sensibilities as justification for going alone."

He returned her smile with one of his own. "Very well, Miss Bennet. I would be happy for you to join me. It is too far even for you to walk, so I will order the curricle. Can you be ready to leave in ten minutes?"

Having assured him that she would meet him in the hall at the agreed upon time, the Master of Pemberley issued his orders, and within fifteen minutes Elizabeth was sitting by his side as he guided the horse down a narrow track through the estate.

Her eyes drank in each new scene they passed; so much so that she was startled when Mr. Darcy asked if she liked what she had seen of the estate.

"Naturally. How could anyone not like such a wonderful home?" Elizabeth only wished she could stay forever. She looked into his eyes. "You are very fortunate, Mr. Darcy, to have such a comfortable residence."

He glanced away, as though embarrassed by her praise. "It never felt quite as much a home as it has in the last two weeks."

Not knowing quite what reply to make, she waited, hoping he would say more, but the remaining journey was traversed in silence.

They pulled up outside a small thatched cottage, located in an isolated area of the park and surrounded by a neatly kept kitchen garden, well stocked with ripening vegetables. Mr. Darcy helped her to alight before offering her his arm and they walked together down the path.

The young woman who opened the door stepped back into the room beyond and curtsied, inviting Mr. Darcy to enter. Recalling his earlier concern, Elizabeth felt a reluctance to join him, but he covered her hand with his own; reassuring her that nothing was amiss. He bent his head slightly, to avoid the low door, until he was safely inside the parlour beyond, drawing her in with him.

"Margaret, I received your message. Is everything well?"

"Oh! Mr. Darcy. I'm fair glad you came. We 'ad a letter come yesterday, only I couldn't read more'n half, an I understood even less."

"Where is the letter?"

The woman reached into her apron pocket, and pulled out the previously folded piece of paper, which now looked a little worse for wear. He glanced at the senders address at the top of the page and raised his eyebrows, but before he had the chance to read it, they heard quick footsteps, and a small boy with thick dark hair came running through the door from the kitchen.

"Mama! Look ... cat-a-pill!" He held out his hand proudly to display the many-legged insect clearly to everyone in the room.

Elizabeth looked at both boy and man, comparing their similar build and colouring. She wondered exactly what Mr. Darcy considered the less than pleasant side of life. Would he ever admit such an indiscretion?

"Good afternoon, Thomas. Have you been behaving for your Mama and your Grandmama?"

The boy nodded his head seriously. "Yes, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy took a small coin from his pocket, handing it over solemnly. "If you are a good boy all week, I will ask Mrs. Reynolds to send you some of her special lemon cake."

Thomas's smile grew wide, and he whispered his awed gratitude before looking up at the woman called Margaret. When she indicated he could return to the garden, he ran off again, taking his 'pet' with him.

Mr. Darcy, dismissing the boy's presence, returned his attention to the letter. His brow furrowed---she could not tell whether with anger or frustration---and his hands tightened absently on the paper, crinkling it between his fingers.

After a moment he folded the page, placing it carefully into his pocket. His gaze rose to lock with Elizabeth's and she heard him sigh.

"The letter is from a doctor in Bath. George Wickham is dead."

Chapter fifty-six.

Posted on September 6, 2008

Elizabeth let out an involuntary gasp, shocked by the words Mr. Darcy had spoken so calmly. The young woman called Margaret, however, remained unmoved by the startling news. Wiping her hands on her apron, she said, "I'd hoped that was what it meant."

Mr. Darcy indicated Elizabeth should sit down. She accepted his suggestion gratefully and Margaret offered them tea.

"Or would you prefer somethin' stronger, sir? I think we still have a little of the brandy left from Christmas." After he assured her that tea would be fine, the woman left them alone in the parlour as she went to boil the water.

Taking the chair nearest to Elizabeth's, he took her hand in his, his face etched deep with concern at her response to the contents of the letter. "You are upset by this news?"

She shook her head. "I am more shocked than anything. I have not thought about Mr. Wickham in such a long time. Certainly not since Jane's wedding day, when Georgiana ..." She paused, embarrassed at bringing up a subject she suspected still caused him pain. "Well, it was the last thing I expected to hear today."

"I am sorry to say that, for me, the news was not so wholly unexpected. The Militia was his last real chance for a decent occupation. Had he chosen to distinguish himself through sterling service, he would have had the opportunity to transfer to the regulars and progress within the ranks, thereby earning a reasonable standard of living. Instead he behaved in the same way he invariably did when faced with an awkward situation. He gave up and ran away."

Elizabeth retrieved her hand from his grasp just before Margaret returned to the room, carrying a tray laden with tea. She noticed how the young woman served the two of them, but took nothing for herself. She assumed that Margaret lived in the house with her son, but her behaviour reminded her more of a servant. As she and Mr. Darcy drank their tea, a loud banging from above accompanied the sound of a woman's voice.

"Maggie?"

For the first time since their arrival, Margaret looked at Mr. Darcy with something akin to fright. "Oh, Lord! She'll be wantin' her breakfast. What shall I tell her, sir?"

Yet more thumps punctuated the silence, sounding to Elizabeth like a wooden stick striking the floor. She then heard a deep sigh from Mr. Darcy, and she looked to see him shaking his head.

"I do not think there is any benefit in telling Mrs Wickham her son is dead, Margaret. It will only serve to upset her, and it is very likely she will have forgotten the news by the end of the day." He returned his cup to the tray as he stood and patted the letter in his pocket. "I will make sure Mr. Johnson is aware of the situation. Other than that, just continue as you are. Send word to the house if you need anything."

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir," the woman replied as she accompanied them to the door.

Elizabeth remained silent as Mr. Darcy helped her onto the seat of the curricle, before taking his own place and flicking the reins to start the horses moving. The wind whipped around them, causing her to hold on to her bonnet, lest the ribbons work loose. A number of questions came to mind, but she did not know how to begin asking them.

"I believe I can guess your thoughts."

She raised her eyebrows. "You can?"

He did not respond for a long time. Eventually he spoke, although barely loud enough for her to hear over the wind. "Thomas is not my son."

"I did not---"

He held up his hand to forestall her reply. "I can understand why you might have thought so. Even Mrs Reynolds has commented on more than one occasion that he reminds her of me when I was younger."

Although Elizabeth had noticed a slight similarity in the boy's features and colouring, any suspicion had been dismissed almost as soon as it had formed. "Then who...?"

"I would have thought you might venture a guess, Miss Bennet. You were provided with enough information during our visit to deduce the most likely scenario."

Elizabeth thought back to their time in the cottage. She recalled Margaret, who acted like a servant in her own home; the young boy, Thomas, with dark, curly hair. She remembered Mr. Darcy's question to him: "Have you been a good boy for your Mama and your Grandmama?" The unseen lady in the chamber above them. "He is Mr. Wickham's son," she replied, looking to him for confirmation.

He turned to face her, nodding slowly. "Yes, he is." Easing the reins back, he slowed the horse to a stop before he wrapped the leather straps around the bar. "Perhaps it might be better if I explain the circumstances to you."

"Please do not feel you have to explain anything to me, Mr. Darcy. What you choose to do on your own estate is no one else's concern."

"I would like to tell you, if you are willing to hear it." She nodded her acquiescence. "When I settled the sum of money on Mr. Wickham---in lieu of the preferment which my father wished him to have---he travelled to Pemberley in person to collect the payment, rather than allow me to send it through my bankers in London.

"As his own father had died a few months earlier, I expected him to visit his mother and make arrangements for her wellbeing. The death of her husband caused her great distress; not so much because she held any sincere affection for him, but because she could not envisage living without the income Mr. Wickham senior brought into the household. Mrs Wickham suffered from an extravagant nature and very little remained for her to live on. The money I gave to her son would not have been sufficient for them both to live in the style she was accustomed to, but it would have paid for board and lodgings for both while Wickham bent his mind to the task of providing for the two of them."

As he paused in his story, Elizabeth said, "I assume he did not arrange to help his mother."

"Not only did he make no such arrangements, but he left Derbyshire without seeing Mrs Wickham, or alerting her to his presence in any way." He sighed as he shook his head. "She never fully recovered from the loss of her husband, or rather the loss of her status, and her mind became feeble. Some days she is little more than a child again, although occasionally she can seem a rational and sensible person."

After finishing his explanation, he sat for some moments in silence, staring out into the trees as though he was reliving a dim and distant memory. Elizabeth reached out her hand to touch his sleeve, bringing him back to the moment. "And young Thomas?"

"Yes ... well, although Wickham did not visit his mother during his brief sojourn in Derbyshire, he did not spend his time idly. Four months after he left Mrs Reynolds brought another matter to my attention."

"Margaret?"

"Yes." He frowned as he recalled the details. "Wickham had bragged to her about the money he was to receive, and enticed her with his pledge they would marry, once he had secured lodgings and employment in London. He promised her everything and she believed him."

Feeling herself blush, Elizabeth admitted, "I cannot fault her for that. I, too, found him very believable, if you remember."

Mr. Darcy huffed. "This was not quite the same thing. He used her, like he used everybody, and left her behind without a thought for her well-being." Covering her hand with his, he appeared to take comfort from her touch. "It was the first time something like this had happened since I had taken over the responsibility of the estate, and, as a young man, I had no notion of how to deal with a member of the staff in that ... condition. Margaret has been connected with Pemberley since birth---her father was our head coachman when I was a boy---and it seemed almost barbaric to banish her from the only place she had ever known, especially when the fault lay squarely with Wickham."

Elizabeth met his gaze. "I understand most gentlemen would consider the fault to lie with the girl under these circumstances."

"Please, Miss Bennet," he replied with feeling. "I hope you would credit me with more sensibility than most gentlemen. Besides, I knew Wickham too well to doubt the situation. Mrs Reynolds suggested the arrangement you have seen today. Margaret cares for Thomas and Mrs Wickham, and I pay her a small sum to assist with her costs. Mrs Wickham, in her fragile mental state, believes Margaret to be her daughter-in-law in truth and knows Thomas is her grandson. His presence in her life keeps her content. The only modification I made to Mrs Reynolds' suggestion was to promise that Margaret and Thomas have a home there for as long as they require it. When older, Thomas will also be educated at my expense. Let us hope he is more appreciative of that honour than his father was."

Elizabeth paused for a minute, unsure whether to ask the question that hovered on her lips, but she saw nothing but open sincerity in his eyes. "And Mr. Wickham? How did he...?"

He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out the crumpled letter. Wordlessly, he passed it to her, and she could not be insensible to the trust he showed in allowing her to read the words for herself. Opening the page, she looked at the sheet in front of her.

Written by a Dr. William Harris, the bold strokes spoke in bland terms about the death of one George Wickham, while in the Workhouse of the Parish of St. James, in Bath. It reported the circumstances of him being found in the street, collapsed and bleeding, after a vicious attack. The doctor surmised that the motive must have been robbery, for he carried no money or jewellery on his person, but Elizabeth could well imagine that gambling debts, or some similar problem, had incited the assault. He had regained consciousness only briefly, at which time he asked them to write to his mother, instructing them where to send the letter, before passing from his poor existence from severe internal injuries.

Mr. Wickham had died in the manner he had lived his life: carelessly, and with precious little thought for the distress he may cause to others.

"For Georgiana's sake I cannot consider having the body returned to Pemberley for burial, but I will ask Mr. Johnson to send a donation to the workhouse, and Mr. Reeve will oblige me by adding Mr. Wickham's name to his father's headstone in the churchyard. Mrs Wickham will join her husband there in due course."

"He never once mentioned his mother to me." Elizabeth passed the letter back to Mr. Darcy. As she placed the paper in his hand, his fingers brushed against the exposed skin at her wrist, and she drew back, embarrassed by the pleasure she received from the brief caress.

"I am not at all surprised," he said, returning the letter to his pocket. He unhooked the reins and clicked his tongue to start his horse moving again. "When Colonel Fitzwilliam investigated the matter of Wickham's disappearance, he found the Militia were not even aware he had family still living. It seems, until his last hours, he had conveniently erased it from his memory."

Elizabeth laughed. "I know how easily that feat can be accomplished."

Mr. Darcy frowned, turning on the seat to face her, the reins grasped tightly in his fist as their movement was checked once more. "There are no similarities between your situation and that of Mr. Wickham."

The vehemence in his tone surprised Elizabeth. She had spoken the words in a light-hearted manner; for, in truth, the missing hours from earlier in the year preyed very little on her mind. "Those memories are lost to me now, but it causes me no pain. I am quite reconciled to the fact that I might never remember what happened on that day."

Either her words or their calming tone seemed to relax him. Raising his hand he brushed away a strand of hair blown loose by the wind, tucking it behind her ear. "Dr. Hall did say they might return at some time. Would you be sorry if they did?"

His question surprised her more than his touch. She had never before imagined that anything could have happened during the missing time to cause her any regret if she were to recall it. "I suppose it all depends on what I remember. However, I am not actively seeking their recall." She looked into his eyes and smiled. "I ... I find myself quite content with my life as it is now."

The remnants of his frown disappeared, as he lifted her hand and clasped it between his own, the warmth of his touch flowing up her arm and straight into her heart. "Miss Bennet, there is something I have to tell you."

The familiar butterflies took wing inside her stomach, and she laid her free hand atop his as she felt the first drop of rain on her cheek.

Startled, Mr. Darcy looked up into the trees, and when Elizabeth lifted her head she saw that the sky above had darkened; a portent for a summer storm. Another raindrop fell on their conjoined hands and she heard him sigh as a third hit his forehead. "Hold on to the rail. I will take us home as quickly as I can, but we may still get wet." He said no more as he directed his horse back towards Pemberley. They were within sight of the house when the heavens opened, sending rain lashing down on them in the open curricle, soaking them in moments.

As soon as they pulled to a stop, a footman stepped forward to assist Elizabeth from the curricle and Mrs Reynolds bundled her off to change into dry clothes, before she caught her death of cold.

Elizabeth did not have another opportunity to speak to Mr. Darcy alone that day. By the time she changed and returned downstairs to the parlour, Jane and Georgiana persuaded her to play a game of charades. Charles and Mr. Darcy soon joined them but although she caught her host staring at her more than once, they were never alone and there were no further opportunities for her to discover what he was so eager to tell her.

When she climbed the grand staircase that evening to retire for the night, Elizabeth hoped the rain would clear for the following day, so she and Mr. Darcy could continue the conversation that had been so inconveniently interrupted.

She could only hope it was the declaration she had been waiting for.

Later that evening, once everyone else had retired for the night, Darcy sat in the library, contemplating the reflection of the fire in his brandy glass.

The occasional time spent in Elizabeth's company was no longer enough. He wanted all of her; her hand, her heart and her soul. Had the rain not caused their sudden flight back to the house, he might even have plucked up the courage that had so desperately deserted him in the last few weeks, despite having no idea what he should say.

To propose without telling Elizabeth the whole truth about his proposal at Rosings was unthinkable, but his doubts about how she would react to the details of their conversation still plagued him. He wished there was someone he could speak to; someone who could advise him on the best course of action.

Someone like his father, whose words of advice had never been as sorely missed as they were now.

Darcy reached for the book lying on a nearby table. The untitled battered black volume had kept him amused since Nathan's arrival at Pemberley. John Bennet's dry wit had clearly been a match for his brother's, and Darcy had fallen into the habit of imagining the words spoken in Mr. Bennet's voice as he read about the life of a lonely young man living many miles from his ancestral home. The unacknowledged head of the Bennet family had lived through many difficulties and misfortunes of life in Jamaica, and Darcy had been enthralled and occasionally surprised by some of the events in his life.

His fingers failed to find purchase on the worn leather and the book fell from his grasp onto the floor. He bent to retrieve it, noticing as he did so that one of the corners had crumpled; no doubt a consequence of it coming into contact with the oak parquetry. Looking closer he realised the damage to the corner had also caused the endpaper to come unglued from the backboard and, studying it further, that the back cover of the book was thicker than the front. Easing back the corner of the endpaper, Darcy discovered why. Someone had glued down the edges of the final page after its manufacture, trapping another sheet within it, like a hidden pocket. Working at the loose edge, his curiosity piqued, he managed to separate enough to extract the contents.

Unfolding the paper Darcy found it was actually three sheets, cut from the binding of John Bennet's journal. He recognised the regular sloping handwriting as that of Nathan's father, and the date written at the top was early in 1794, only a month after his wife's death. Turning to that year, he was able to confirm his suspicion. At least three pages were missing; neatly excised from the book.

After a brief hesitation, Darcy's eyes scanned the first page, before moving swiftly to the second. When he looked at the third page he knew what he had discovered. A letter from John Bennet written to his infant son; words of fatherly advice from beyond the grave. He refolded the pages and laid them to one side, intending to give them to Nathan first thing in the morning, but after a moment's consideration he reached out for them as eagerly as though they had been written in his own father's hand.

My dear Nathan,

As you sit beside me on the floor, playing with a wooden ball, I am forced to wonder what sort of a man you will grow into, losing, as you have, the presence of so excellent a mother. Not only was she a wonderful mother to you, but a wife without peer to me.

We have both lost a great deal. I fear she is irreplaceable.

I first saw your mother at an assembly held by the Governor General at Kingston, in honour of his daughter's birthday. Lord Rempstone had only been on the island for a week, but I had already had cause to deal with him in some matters of business, so it was a natural thing for me to speak to him that night, and equally natural for him to introduce his wife and daughter to me.

That one moment was all it took. As soon as I heard her voice and saw her smile, I knew I was lost beyond redemption.

John Bennet described his wife upon their first meeting; lingering eloquently on the first impression she had made upon him. Darcy recalled his first impressions of Elizabeth, but they did him no credit. He had gone to the assembly at Meryton, determined to be above being pleased. He had barely noticed any woman in the room, and failed to appreciate the prize that had been pointed out to him, even going so far as to refuse to ask Elizabeth to dance.

What a blind fool he had been.

Picking up the pages once more, Darcy skimmed over a few lines, until his eyes alit on another passage.

I heard through an acquaintance that the Rempstone's were planning their return to England in two months. The idea that Phillipa would leave these shores was a painful one for me to accept. I could not bear to think she might go back to London without knowing how I felt. It became imperative to me that I should acquaint her of my feelings without further delay.

With this aim in mind, I called at the Rempstone's lodgings, hoping to be allowed some moment of private speech with her. Hearing that Miss Ardern was out walking with her maid, I searched the area before coming across her strolling along the seashore, where we soon fell into conversation. Taking the opportunity to walk apart from her companion, I opened my heart and told her of my deepest desires. The joy I felt when she told me they were reciprocated was almost beyond description. I can only say I hope you will one day feel such ecstasy. Knowing the family were to leave, I wasted no time in seeking an audience with her father. The outcome of the resulting interview was less than I had hoped for. Lord Rempstone flatly refused to consent to our marriage. He had more lofty ambitions for his eldest daughter; intending her to be a Viscountess at the very least.

Darcy tried to imagine how he would feel if he thought for a moment Mr. Bennet might refuse his consent. Having won Elizabeth's affections, after a long, hard battle, the last thing he would stand for would be the opinion of a parent, however well meaning. He could only imagine some of the things that might have gone through John Bennet's mind under those circumstances.

Knowing I had little time to change his opinion, I managed to meet once again with Phillipa as she walked out with her maid. Hessie took pity on us, allowing us some time alone. Phillipa had tried to speak to her father about me, but to no avail. The only hope left to us was to throw ourselves on the mercy of her mother.

The following day I sought out Lady Rempstone, bringing with me a bouquet of her favourite native flowers. She was my last chance at happiness. My own parents had not been the sort of people who wore their affection openly, but I could not afford to be misunderstood and, as strange as it seemed to me, I revealed my heart to the Viscountess; telling her explicitly how empty, how devoid of hope my existence would be without her daughter's presence. I promised her the earth; said I would devote every moment of my life to making Phillipa happy; that she would want for nothing. In short, I told her the absolute truth of my situation. Finally seeing a thawing of her frosty demeanour, Lady Rempstone agreed to discuss the matter with her husband.

Your grandmother is a formidable lady, but beneath her harsh exterior lies a romantic heart. The banns were called for the first time that Sunday, and we were married three weeks later.

Lowering the page, he stared into the flickering firelight. Although the writer had intended the hidden letter for Nathan Bennet's eyes alone, Darcy found the information and advice contained within to be apposite to his own predicament. He and Nathan were, in some ways, very similar; both orphaned, leaving them without the valuable guidance of a father.

The moral of John Bennet's story was clear: regardless of any perceived impediments, true love should not be denied and the best way of winning it was by being completely open and honest.

He knew now, beyond doubt, that Elizabeth loved him. Hopefully where there was love, there would also be forgiveness. There was no longer any benefit to be gained by waiting to see whether Elizabeth's memory returned. He had to tell her the truth of that day at Rosings, declare himself and throw himself on her mercy. Like John Bennet, he could not bear to think of Elizabeth leaving Pemberley without knowing just how he felt.

Folding the pages once more, he slipped them back into their 'pocket'. He would give them to Nathan tomorrow.

But not before he spoke to Elizabeth and told her everything. Even if it took him all day

Chapter fifty-seven.

Posted on September 13, 2008

When Elizabeth woke the next morning, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed over to the window, parting the heavy damask curtains. The sight of the pale yellow sun rising above the tree line gave her hope that whatever words Mr. Darcy wished to share with her might yet be spoken. The weather would be no bar to their walking together this morning.

She picked out her favourite walking dress and wrapped a fringed shawl around her shoulders to ward against the chill. The maid had not finished dressing Elizabeth's hair when they heard a knock on her bedroom door.

Responding to her assent, a young girl in a cap and apron opened the door and bobbed a curtsey. "'Scuse me, ma'am. Master sent me to beg your pardon, but he requests your presence downstairs in the hall as soon as you're able."

"Mr. Darcy?" She looked at the clock, noting that there was fully half an hour before they would usually meet. "Yes, of course. Please inform him I will be with him presently."

As she completed her toilette with a carelessness her mother would have abhorred, Elizabeth wondered why Mr. Darcy was so eager to see her. She recalled the previous morning, when the storm had prevented him from speaking his mind. Might this be the day he cast aside his doubts and asked her to marry him? She waited with heightened anticipation, her heartbeat loud in her ears as her maid fastened the last few buttons of her walking dress, wondering whether Jane had suffered similar symptoms on the day Mr. Bingley had proposed at Longbourn.

At least she could be thankful Mrs Bennet was not here to embarrass her.

Within ten minutes she reached the top of the staircase and stopped, her hand braced on the carved marble rail. Below her, in the entrance hall, the Master of the house paced back and forth, barking orders to Mrs Reynolds and Mr. Johnson as he did so. She was not aware of making any sound, but suddenly he stopped and looked up, his expression softening at the sight of her.

He took the shallow stairs two at a time, bounding up them as though he could not wait for her to reach the bottom, his long grey driving coat flying out behind him. Taking the hand she offered, he squeezed her fingers lightly as he escorted her down. "Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Bennet."

Hearing footsteps behind her Elizabeth turned to see a smartly dressed young man carrying two small bags down the stairs. He placed them on a table by the door and turned an enquiring look to his employer.

"Thank you, Marriott. Be ready to leave in five minutes."

His words sent a pain through her chest and she bought her free hand up to her throat, fearing to find her heart there. "Y...you are leaving?"

He rubbed his hand across his eyes as he let out a long sigh. "Yes, although not by choice. I have been summoned to Matlock. In fact, there is not a moment to lose, but I dared not leave without first bidding you farewell, otherwise you might think it was something I made a habit of."

All of Elizabeth's hopes came crashing down at this pronouncement. She had been waiting to speak to him since their interrupted conversation the day before, but it seemed fate would once again deny her the opportunity to hear what he wanted to say. Her knees trembled under her, and she clutched his hand for support as she wondered how she would cope without his presence at Pemberley. "Of course, I will not detain you." Her voice waivered as she spoke and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "This circumstance will, I fear, prevent our outing today." She tried to smile, but found it hard to hide her disappointment.

"Yes. With all my heart I wish it were not so. I would not have left today for anything less." Looking around the hall, full of bustling servants, Mr. Darcy---still holding Elizabeth's fingers---pulled her with him into the drawing room, whereupon he closed the door behind them.

Mr. Darcy's countenance turned serious. "Is there anything I can get for you? A glass of wine perhaps?" he asked as he walked her to the settee.

"No, I thank you." She sank down gratefully, endeavouring to recover herself. "There is nothing the matter with me."

He sat next to her, their knees almost touching. "Had the situation been anything other than it is, I would postpone my journey, but the letter from my uncle contained startling news and there is little I can say that will soften the blow." He tightened his grip on her hand. "It appears that Anne has left the safety of my Aunt and Uncle---has eloped---with Dr. Hall. He took her for a drive in the countryside and they never returned. They are gone off together from Matlock."

Elizabeth felt nothing but astonishment. "Anne? With Dr. Hall? I knew he was monitoring her progress, but this I would never have imagined! What has been done to recover them?"

"I do not yet know. I presume my uncle desires me to find them, although they may be too far ahead for me to catch them now."

"Will your family object to the union?"

Darcy sighed. "I fear so. Anne is an heiress, with a considerable fortune, while Spencer ... Dr. Hall is a younger son, with little more than the money he earns through his practice. You can see the disparity in their status, although I cannot believe he would do such a thing for pecuniary advantage alone. Lady Catherine will be wild when she discovers the truth. I must lend my countenance to the proceedings and do what I can to help deal with the situation."

"I am shocked indeed, but is it absolutely certain?"

"Oh yes, the Earl's note left the matter in no doubt at all. When they did not return he sent men to search for them, thinking there had been an accident. They were traced along the Bakewell Road, heading north, which signifies to my uncle that they must have gone to Scotland. I will know more when I get there."

"Yes ... of course you must go." She looked up into his eyes. "Dr. Hall and Anne will need your support."

Mr. Darcy smiled at that. "Then you have no objection to the match?"

"It is neither my place to object nor approve. However, if they are both over age and they love each other, I do not see what else matters."

He paused for a moment, considering her words, before nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, you are correct. Nothing else should matter. I envy my cousin her determination." Appearing to make a decision, he sat a little straighter. "I am grieved indeed that I must leave Pemberley, today of all days. If I only had ..." He stopped again and shook his head, his frustration evident in his contracted brow. "No, I cannot speak of it now, but I would like---if you will permit me---to have a private conversation with you when I return."

Elizabeth looked around the empty room. "We are private now, sir," she offered hopefully.

He closed his eyes briefly, as though in pain. When he opened them again, his expression was dark and serious. "Of that I am well aware, but there is no time now to tell you everything that is needful. It is not something that can be rushed." Lifting his hand he ran a finger lightly across her cheek. "Will you wait for me?"

"Certainly. I ... I have no intention of leaving."

He smiled then. "Good, because I---" They were disturbed by a knock on the door, as a voice informed his master that the carriage was ready and waiting for him. Squeezing her hand, he stared intently at her face, as though committing it to memory. "I must go."

Elizabeth ached to throw her arms around him, but knew she could not. From his mournful expression, it was clear he was leaving with only the greatest reluctance and she would not add to the weight for anything. Her heart skipped as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

He stood and bowed. "Be so kind as to apologise to your sister and Bingley for my hurried departure. Say urgent business has called me away. Bingley will not wonder at that. Georgiana knows I am leaving, but I did not reveal to her the reason why. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as possible and I will return as soon as I can."

"Of course. You can be assured of my secrecy and I trust you will have a safe journey, Mr. Darcy."

As he opened the door he hesitated, turned and, favouring her with a serious, parting look, Elizabeth heard him whisper, "Farewell, Elizabeth," before he turned away.

Running to the front window, she craned her head to watch as he left the house, jumping into the carriage, which moved off down the drive with no further delay. Elizabeth touched the cool glass with the tips of her fingers, wishing he was not compelled to leave, and praying for his safe return.

She watched as the carriage crossed the bridge and climbed up and over the hill. Once it had travelled beyond her sight, Elizabeth found she needed a moment to compose her emotions before leaving the room, feeling unequal to seeing the speculative glances of the footmen stationed in the hallway.

Instead, she wandered around the empty drawing room, recalling some of the things she had learned about her host during their stay at Pemberley. She now knew he had a fondness for vingt-et-un, because it was the first card game his mother had taught him; he would eat kidney but not liver and apple tart was preferred over any other. He could sit reading a book for hours, like a statue, but ask him to sit for a silhouette or pose for a likeness and he would not stay still for more than five minutes.

Memories of the previous evening returned unbidden, when she had accompanied Georgiana on the pianoforte. Elizabeth knew her playing to be no more than tolerable, and yet when she caught sight of Mr. Darcy's countenance across the music room, his rapt attention and beatific smile could almost make her believe her skill was exceptional.

The idea of him being away from Pemberley for any amount of time, when she had grown so used to his company, was painful for her, and she felt tears well in her eyes as she heard the door open behind her.

Mrs Reynolds glanced out of the window before returning her attention to Elizabeth. "That, if I may say so, is just like the master, to go running off at the drop of a hat, as if the whole world's problems are his own," she said, her tone sympathetic.

Although she tried to smile, her treacherous bottom lip quivered as she said, "He feels his responsibility keenly."

Mrs Reynolds came towards her. "That he does, Miss Bennet, but the Earl relies on him more than is right for a man with two grown up sons of his own." She offered Elizabeth her handkerchief.

Accepting the plain linen square gratefully, she pressed it to her eyes. "Perhaps Mr. Darcy was the closest?"

"He always is, my dear." Elizabeth held out the handkerchief, only slightly damp, but Mrs Reynolds waved it away. "When the master was last called away to Matlock like this, he was gone almost two weeks." She gave Elizabeth a knowing smile. "But I doubt his visit will be more than a day or so this time. He has never begrudged the Earl before, for he is mindful of all the support he provided when the old master died, but today, Miss Bennet, I promise you, he would rather have done anything than leave. Mark my words you will hardly have the chance to miss him before he is home again."

With those words of wisdom, Mrs Reynolds left her to her thoughts. Elizabeth, moving to follow her through the door, checked her appearance in the pier glass by the window. Her face was pale, and her eyes were tinged with red. Glancing at the clock upon the mantle, she saw it had been less than half an hour since Mr. Darcy departed.

You are wrong, she thought. I miss him already.

On the way to Matlock, Darcy had more than enough time in which to regret his uncle's summons and ponder what he might have said to Elizabeth had he still been at Pemberley.

Time had not blurred his memories of their meeting under the shelter of the temple at Rosings. He had been cold, wet and miserable until he had caught sight of a flash of colour beneath Lady Catherine's old folly. He initially dismissed it, wishing only for a hot bath and a brandy, but something had made him look again, and it was then he had recognised Elizabeth. He had always taken pains to seek her out in the grove by the lane, never dreaming she might venture so far into the park. He had not woken that morning with the intention of proposing marriage, but the juxtaposition of the poor weather, the perfect opportunity and the fond recollection of her wit and charm had been enough to prompt him.

Little had he realised then how unwelcome his offer would be.

As the carriage rolled on over the moors he frowned as he recalled how Elizabeth's refusal had, at first, made him angry and he had been determined to make her aware of her error in supporting Wickham so blindly. Had she not suffered her accident that evening, he would have completed his letter. He might even have found time to put it in her hands the following morning. What might have happened then? Would they have ever met again? Probably not.

He mused on the perversity of a fate that had served to tumble his life around so completely in the space of a few months.

And now Spencer had eloped with Anne; a circumstance he never would have imagined. Something about their flight to the border seemed odd, but Darcy could not identify what bothered him most. He knew them both well, and could not think of any behaviour more out of character.

Scotland was the favoured destination for couples who could not obtain parental support for their union, despite the scandal and gossip that often followed those precipitate marriages. Darcy could understand their reluctance to ask for Lady Catherine's blessing, for he could think of no one who would be less likely to accept the unequal alliance. Even so, the idea of Anne and Spencer eloping made no sense at all.

Arriving at Matlock Hall sometime after one o'clock, he was not surprised to find the household in a state of nervous anticipation as several of the servants ran out to identify the occupant of his carriage. He sensed a palpable disappointment when he stepped down, which told him better than words could that the whereabouts of his cousin and his friend were still unknown.

Hurrying into the house, the Matlock's butler met him, ushering him into the drawing room. Lady Matlock was alone there, pacing restlessly; a handkerchief clutched in her pale hand. "Oh, Darcy! It is you. I had hoped..."---a glance dismissed the butler---"... well, it is no matter. Thank you for coming."

In the light of his aunt's anguish he could not regret his decision to answer his uncle's summons, regardless of how difficult it had been for him to leave. "I came as soon as I could. Has nothing been heard of them?"

"No, and my spirits are greatly shaken."

"It is not still possible they suffered an accident on the road?"

She shook her head. "We all assumed that to be the case to begin with. However, once the search parties returned with no news, we asked the maid to check Anne's room. Only then did we discover some items of clothing and other objects, like her hairbrush, were missing. From then on we have feared the worst. You know, of course, from your uncle's letter that they were traced north as far as Bakewell, but beyond there no one saw them pass. It was a shock, to be sure, when we thought they headed for Scotland, but now it seems possible they might not have made for the border at all."

"Indeed, having considered the matter during my journey I think it highly unlikely. The distance from here to Gretna must be one hundred and ninety miles or more." He sat for a moment, sifting through memories of his friend. "If my cousin did agree to marry Dr. Hall, what need would they have to elope? Both are over age and while parental approval is always to be desired, it is not required by the church. A marriage license from the Bishop would see them wed with far greater expedition and comfort."

Lady Matlock dabbed the handkerchief delicately to the corner of her eye. "You are right, of course. Anne is so slight of figure I sometimes forget she is four and twenty. But why then all this secrecy? Why would they choose to steal away in such a shameful manner?"

Darcy had no problem determining the reason for their flight. "Would you and my uncle have agreed to their alliance? I need not ask whether Lady Catherine would agree, for I know she would not."

"Nothing less than a Darcy or a Duke would do for Catherine, and naturally we could not lend our support to a match that would contradict her wishes."

"It was never going to be a Darcy, unless I have a brother I was previously unaware of."

His aunt smiled. "I am well aware of your opinions, but Catherine is not. However, I still had every hope that Anne might make a good match, now her health has improved to such a degree."

Darcy smiled as he realised what the Countess had forgotten. Anne's transformation from sickly and weak to healthy and strong was all down to the experience and determination of the man she had eloped with.

Although his aunt was shocked by the circumstance of Anne's disappearance, there were no tears or lamentations of regret for something she could not change. If he could encourage her to accept his friend as a suitor for his cousin, albeit reluctantly, the chances of a marriage between Anne and Spencer being accepted by Society would be greater. He felt he knew his friend well enough to be sure the pair would soon be married, and if pressed, he might even venture to guess where the service would take place.

"If they left here yesterday morning---"

"Oh no, dear, not yesterday. Dr. Hall took Anne out on Monday morning."

He stepped forward. "You mean to tell me Anne and Spencer left here three days ago? Why was I not informed sooner? The wording of my uncle's message led me to believe their departure was more recent. I assumed you wished me to find them and bring them home."

"I fear it is too late for that."

"If that is the case, I fail to understand how you thought I could help." Darcy's anger grew as an image of Elizabeth, waiting patiently for him, came to mind. Had his uncle's message been more explicit as to the circumstances of the elopement, he would never have left Pemberley without first speaking to her.

"Your uncle wishes to present a united front, for when Catherine arrives."

"You informed Lady Catherine of Anne's disappearance?"

"Naturally, we had to acquaint her with the circumstances. I expect her here any day." The look on her face was enough to confirm she was dreading her sister-in-law's arrival.

Darcy moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. As little as he wanted to be here, the fact remained that Spencer and Anne would appreciate his presence, especially if Lady Catherine was on her way. The thought of both aunts together in one house would almost make the journey worth while. At least he could be sure of entertainment. "Had you no apprehension of Anne having a partiality for Dr. Hall?"

"No, none at all. When we were in town he visited every week in his capacity as Anne's doctor. He was unfailingly polite and it was obvious to us that his recommendations were doing her a great deal of good. Why, I have never seen her looking so well in all her life! Even the servants commented on it. It was only natural we should welcome Dr. Hall into our home. He stayed to dinner more than once, and struck me as being a very gentlemanlike man, while your uncle was impressed by his mode of address and intelligent conversation. You could almost forget he is only a physician."

The door opened to admit the Earl, looking tired and worn. "Ah, Darcy. You are here at last. Well, this is a bad business. Never in my life did I imagine any of my family eloping to Scotland in such an extraordinary fashion."

"I would be surprised if any such elopement has taken place," he answered in a calm voice.

"What? You mean to say Dr. Hall would take Anne from her home, her family, and not do the decent thing? I would scarce believe it of him!"

The Countess shook her head. "He does not mean that at all. Darcy thinks they might intend to wed closer to home, and I do think he has the right of it. As much as we would prefer otherwise, Anne is old enough to marry without the permission of her family, and nothing more than a license would be required."

His lordship looked hopefully towards his nephew. "Your suggestion has much to recommend it, but I cannot like the way Dr. Hall went about the business. Why did he not seek our blessing?"

"Because he has sense enough to accept any application he made would be refused. You cannot deny that."

"No, you are quite right. Catherine would never willingly accept a physician as a son. I suppose---" But they were not to know what the Earl supposed, for at that moment a shout went up in the hallway beyond, and the doors were flung open by the aged butler who reported a carriage had been seen coming down the drive.

Chapter fifty-eight.

Posted on September 20, 2008

Darcy reached the door first, his aunt and uncle following close behind. Standing upon the steps, they waited impatiently for the carriage to draw before them. Darcy noted, as with his own arrival, that there seemed far more servants with business near the front of the house than should be usual for this time of day. It did not surprise him; servants were often the first to hear of any scent of scandal wafting from above stairs, and equally eager to witness the consequences.

Finally, the horses came to a stop and a footman lowered the steps. Darcy heard his aunt sigh, relieved when she saw Spencer Hall descend from the coach before holding his hand out to Anne. A short exchange followed before she took it and stepped gracefully down, putting her hand on Spencer's arm, as though in need of the support.

Lady Matlock rushed forward and for a moment Darcy thought his aunt would forget herself and start scolding the pair on the spot, regardless of the servants, but at the last minute she seemed to recollect where they were and had to be content with a strained smile as she welcomed Anne home and ushered the couple into the house.

The act would fool no one, but the niceties had to be observed.

They made their way into the nearest parlour, where the Earl resolutely dismissed the hovering footmen before turning to the runaways. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Removing her bonnet and gloves, Anne blushed, lowering her eyes. "I ... I am sorry if we worried you, Uncle Henry."

At almost the same time, Spencer Hall stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "I am prepared to take full responsibility for my actions, sir."

Lord Matlock grunted. "We will deal with your actions later. What I want to know now is where you have been since you left here on Monday."

His wife took Anne's left hand in her own. "Oh! It is as we thought. You are married."

"Yes," Hall admitted, "but I would never have talked Anne into such a drastic step had my hand not been forced."

"Forced? I can think of no justifiable excuse for such deplorable behaviour," the Earl said. "You ... a Physician. A man whose profession demands the utmost trust be placed in his hands. I believed you had the best interests of my niece at heart, but it now seems the only interests you considered were your own."

Anne, pulling away from her aunt, moved to stand next to her husband, as though to protect him from her uncle's wrath. "He was thinking of me. If you wish to lay the blame for this on anyone, you may do so on my mother." She turned to the Countess. "Do you recall the letter I received last week from mama?"

"Of course."

"I said nothing at the time, but in it she demanded I should ask you to return me to Rosings ... immediately, but were you to do as she asked, I knew I might never see Spencer again."

"You assumed we would comply with her wishes and send you home, even against your own will?"

Spencer comforted his wife as she nodded in silent acknowledgement. "Considering the trials Lady Catherine put her daughter through during the last four and twenty years of her life, I had no intention of allowing her the opportunity to ruin the good work of these past few months."

"I am sorry to have been so disobliging, for I am so very grateful to you both for taking me away from Mama. Had you not, I doubt whether I would have seen another five winters."

"I know you would not," her husband murmured as he looked down into her eyes, a gentle smile on his face.

Lord Matlock coughed. "Well ... well, that still does not excuse you from making such a reckless decision. Marriage is not a step to be taken lightly, nor should it be used as a means of solving a problem."

"But our decision was not in the least bit impulsive, Uncle. Spencer asked for my hand weeks ago."

"He did?" Frowning, the Earl turned to the sideboard and poured himself a restorative. "And I thought it could get no worse! Heaven knows what your mother will say."

Lady Matlock sank down onto the settee, almost speechless. "You have been betrothed ... for weeks? Oh, Anne, how could you?"

"We ... well, I thought it best to wait until the time was right. If we had made our intentions known you would attempt to dissuade me from my choice."

The Countess motioned for Anne to sit next to her. "Of course we would. It would be our responsibility to do so."

Anne sighed as she sat down next to her aunt. "But you seemed to get on so well with Spencer, even inviting him for dinner. I had hoped, given time, you might come to realise how perfect he is for me."

Darcy had been content to be a mute witness to the conversation, but at this point he stepped forward, addressing his aunt and uncle. "It appears to me, by encouraging Anne to spend time with Spencer, you are as much to blame as Aunt Catherine for this situation."

The Earl was quick to disclaim any fault on his side. "You might as well say you are to blame, Darcy, for did you not ask Dr. Hall to examine Anne in the first place?"

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Anne cried, startling them all into silence. "You might as well blame Elizabeth Bennet for falling and bumping her head in mother's park. The fact of our marriage cannot be disputed and it is only left to you, dear Uncle, to decide whether you will accept Spencer as my husband, or cast me out in disgrace. I am supremely indifferent to your decision, for I will be happy regardless of your choice."

Hearing this ultimatum, which served to remind them all that Anne was indeed Lady Catherine's daughter, Lord and Lady Matlock took pains to reassure their niece of their acceptance of her marriage, however reluctantly. "But where did you go? You clearly did not travel to Scotland."

"I will wager they never left Derbyshire." Darcy's smile grew. "Spencer would be unlikely to marry without the Captain's blessing."

"Dare not, more like," Spencer grumbled.

"Then you did go to Wingthorpe."

"Yes, and had one of the carriage wheels not broken on Monday morning, we would have arrived before noon and been married the same day. It was all arranged. However, as our journey was delayed, we had to wait until yesterday morning. Of course, my father was more than happy with that arrangement. Having never had a daughter he already dotes upon Anne, who now has him firmly wrapped around her little finger."

Anne smiled. "Captain Hall is delightful. I never met a gentleman quite like him."

"I imagine not." Darcy grinned as he recalled visits to Wingthorpe in his youth, and the Captain's bluff good humour and easy, unaffected manners. Spencer had enjoyed a very different upbringing to Anne's own indeed.

Lord Matlock frowned. "You do not mean old Gregory Hall?"

"Yes. Are you acquainted with him?"

The Earl turned to his nephew. "He was a friend of your father's, was he not?" Darcy nodded his head. "Then your grandfather was the previous Lord Whitbourne." When Spencer acknowledged it as the truth, he smiled. "And your father was...?"

"The youngest of his three sons, but he found the Navy to be a most profitable occupation."

"He bought the place at Wingthorpe with his prize money, did he not? How is the old salt?"

Spencer grinned. "Happier for seeing me married, I think. Now he only waits for my brother to find a wife."

The Earl sat back in his chair. "Well, I have no complaints about your family, and under the circumstances, I can understand why you took up a profession, having no expectation of inheriting your father's estate. I only wonder what my sister will make of it all."

Darcy stepped forward then, wishing the couple joy.

"What? No disapprobation?" Dr. Hall asked light-heartedly. "And here I was, convinced you would object to the match."

"What made you think that?"

"Well, you must admit you were questioning me closely when you believed I had Miss Darcy in my sights."

Smiling, Darcy shook his head. "Georgiana is my sister, and therefore my solemn responsibility. Anne, on the other hand, is more than able to take care of herself!" He held out his hand to Spencer. "I might not relish the thought of you as a brother, but I have no compunction in calling you cousin."

"And I felt sure you were going to be stubborn about this, Fitzwilliam," Anne whispered. "Could there be another reason for your acquiescence?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Darcy replied, a little too quickly.

Anne drew him closer to the window. "Has Elizabeth settled in at Pemberley?"

"I believe so."

"Yes, I thought she might. And is there nothing else you would like to share?"

"No, but had I not been summoned here at a moment's notice because you two had supposedly run off to Scotland, there might have been!"

Blushing, Anne examined the intricate border of the carpet beneath her feet. "I am sorry we caused you such inconvenience."

Taking her hand, he squeezed it reassuringly. "That does not matter now, as long as you are happy."

"Can you doubt it?" Anne smiled and looked across the room to where Spencer was speaking with the Earl. "My husband is the best of men. Not only will I live longer because of him, but my life will also be happier than it might otherwise have been. What else could I wish for?"

"A little understanding from your mother, perhaps?"

Anne nodded. "Yes, she will be unhappy, and I am sorry for that, but I will not return to Rosings. I would rather be a physician's wife in London than be under the power of mama again."

Lady Matlock, who had left to order Anne's rooms prepared for the newly wed couple, returned with news. "Another carriage has just arrived. Anne, I think your mother is here."

Anne's face drained of colour. "Oh no!" She ran to the window, which gave onto the front prospect, just in time to catch sight of her former companion before she passed out of sight. "Mrs Jenkinson!" she squeaked. "There can be no doubt in the matter!"

Only a few moments later the sound of Lady Catherine's voice could be heard in the foyer. "Take me to my daughter at once!"

Darcy was concerned to see Anne sink miserably onto the sofa, but Spencer was quick to comfort his wife. They both turned and waited.

When the door opened, the Matlock's butler announced, "Lady Catherine de Bourgh," just as the lady herself swept into the room.

"Catherine! How ... nice to see you. What a pleasant surprise this is."

"You can be at no loss, Eleanor, to understand the reason for my journey hither. Your own conscience must tell you why I come."

"I would like to think you came to satisfy yourself as to your daughter's health and happiness."

"After all the years you have been married to my brother, you ought to know I am not to be trifled with. Henry sent a report, most alarming in nature. My own daughter, attempting to elope with a physician, of all people! This must be a scandalous falsehood! Henry promised me Anne would be cared for and he has gone back on his word! Naturally, as soon as his letter reached me, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place to find out the truth for myself."

"If you believed the news too impossible to be true," said Anne, colouring with astonishment, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could you propose by it?"

"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted."

"Your travelling all this way to visit your family will be rather seen as a confirmation of it."

Lady Catherine looked around the room; from Lady Matlock to Anne; from Anne to Darcy; until her eyes finally lit upon Spencer Hall. "Can you declare there is no foundation for this dreadful rumour? Has my daughter stooped so low as to accept an offer from one such as you?"

Dr. Hall shrugged his shoulders. "Your Ladyship has declared it to be impossible."

"It ought to be so; it must be so, while Anne retains use of her reason. But your beguiling words and flattery may, in a moment of infatuation, have made her forget what she owes to her family. I have no doubt you drew her in!"

"If I had, I would be the last person to confess it."

"What insolence! I am not accustomed to such language as this. I am Anne's mother---the nearest relation she has left in the world---and I am entitled to know all her dearest concerns!"

"It is unfortunate that you did not show the same amount of concern over your daughter's health, Madam. You would rather watch her die a slow death than accept your judgement, and that of your husband, may have been in error. I fail to see how you can feel any moral superiority based on your behaviour."

Lady Catherine's eyes flared with anger. "Let me be rightly understood. Regardless of your opinions, this match, to which you have the audacity to aspire, can never take place. I could not for one moment accept the suit of a young man of inferior birth---little better than a tradesman---of no importance in the world, and who is wholly unallied to the family." Lady Catherine swept her arm around the room as her voice rose to a higher pitch. "Would you have sufficient honour to ask my consent? NO! And I refuse to give it!"

The Countess had a gleam of humour in her eye as she said, "I fear we are too late for refusals. Anne and Spencer are already joined as man and wife. All that is left is for us to accept the situation and give them our support.

"You are already married?" Lady Catherine uttered the question in horrified accents as she stared wild-eyed around the room, before pointing an accusing finger towards Spencer Hall. "The shame of my only daughter entering into a clandestine marriage is beyond everything! You kept this arrangement secret because you knew, under no circumstances, would you be accepted by our family. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you had been brought up."

Lord Matlock stepped forward, attempting to calm his overwrought sister. "Catherine, you forget yourself."

She turned angrily on him. "Do I? Must I stand idly by and listen as you support the upstart pretensions of a young man without family, connections or fortune? Is this to be endured?"

"Do not excite yourself, Sister. Sit down and we will discuss this in a calm and rational manner."

If anything, his calming tone only served to excite her further. "No! I will not be dissuaded from my purpose. I came here with the determined resolution of keeping my daughter safe from the likes of this ... this person," Lady Catherine shouted, balling her fists in fury. "I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment." She spun to face Lord Matlock once more. "I will instruct my attorney to ensure this marriage is annulled!"

"You will not," her brother replied.

"Surely, you would not wish this shameful union to prevail?"

Anne, who had been listening to her mother with growing disquiet, now stepped forward to confront her. "I have made my choice," she cried. "You are too late. Mama, can you not accept it and be happy for me?"

"Accept it?" she screeched. "I will never accept it, because honour, decorum, prudence ... nay interest, forbids it!"

Anne, despairing at her mother's words, sank back onto the sofa. As Dr. Hall moved to comfort her, Lady Catherine turned on him once more.

"Yes, sir, interest. Do not try to tell me that my daughter's fortune had no bearing on your decision. You had the presumption to whisk my daughter away to take part in an underhand and paltry marriage. This alliance is a disgrace! You willfully acted against the inclinations of all. You will never be noticed by Anne's family or friends; I will make sure you are censured, slighted and despised by everyone connected with our family. Your names will never be mentioned by any of us. Anne is no longer my daughter!"

"Catherine, you go too far!" Lord Matlock's deep voice rolled around the room. "Do not presume to speak for my actions or behaviour."

Spencer stepped forward to confront his new mother-in-law. "Those misfortunes you enumerate would be heavy indeed, but with Anne as my wife I will ensure she has such extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation that she will have no cause to repine her choice."

"You obstinate man! I am ashamed of you. Is this your notion of professional conduct?" She turned in appeal to Darcy. "Nephew! Why do you remain silent? Have you nothing to say to this shameful alliance?"

"Yes, but my feelings on this occasion do not reflect your own, Lady Catherine. On the contrary, my cousin and her husband have my blessing."

"But Anne was meant for you!"

"Anne was not confined to me, neither by honour nor inclination."

Lady Catherine spun around until she faced the newlyweds, her face showing both disdain and frustration. "I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I will ensure you cannot touch a penny of Anne's inheritance. I will speak to the best lawyers in London if I have to. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims and I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment."

"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable, but it has little effect on me," Spencer Hall replied calmly. "I did not marry your daughter for her money."

"Be quiet! I will not be interrupted. You will hear me in silence." She brandished a finger menacingly at the doctor. "My daughter is descended, on the maternal side, from a noble line; and, on the father's, from a respectable, honourable, and ancient family. Who are you to put yourself forward in such a way?

"Sister! You must sit down and do not excite yourself so!" Lord Matlock said, as Lady Catherine took an all too brief moment to draw breath. "Do you think I have not asked this question already? Dr. Hall's family is not as undistinguished as you may first imagine. His line is just as honourable as Anne's. Dr. Hall is the grandson of Lord Whitbourne."

Twisting towards her brother, Lady Catherine sneered. "I do not care if he is the grandson of the King himself, no daughter of mine will be the wife of a charlatan."

"You can now have nothing further to say, Mama," Anne answered resentfully. "You have insulted my husband by every possible method."

"You are resolved, then, to remain with him?"

Anne looked across at Dr. Hall and smiled. "I am."

"Heaven and earth! Of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Rosings to be thus polluted?" Lady Catherine spat. She walked away from them before turning to look at her daughter once more; her expression anguished. "I have no ... no ..." she cried before suddenly lifting both hands to her head, as though in pain.

Without another sound she crumpled to the floor.

At Pemberley, Elizabeth left the house to wander though the gardens before finally settling onto the seat in the rose garden, the one place that reminded her so much of Mr. Darcy.

Although Georgiana and Jane had both made efforts to distract her from her melancholy thoughts, Elizabeth suffered a want of cheerfulness that nothing seemed to alleviate. Their host's absence had been briefly commented on, but other than that his name had not been mentioned; no doubt to spare her any further discomfort. How could they know she would have welcomed discussion of him above all else?

The only occasion when Georgiana had spoken of her brother, it had not been positive news. In her experience, a visit to Matlock Hall could easily extend to a week, and Elizabeth was not sure she could wait that long.

She was about to return to the house when she spied Nathan, his long strides covering the distance between them with ease. From his countenance and manner, she could almost see the small grey thundercloud hovering over his head, and it did not tax her imagination to speculate on the cause.

"Is there any wonder I have no appetite when the mere sight of her gives me such heartburn?"

Elizabeth did not need to ask to whom he was referring. Georgiana had not yet forgiven him. "What is the matter now?"

"My timing was ill this morning. I stayed too long at the breakfast table and was made to regret it. Why can Miss Darcy not have her breakfast sent up on a tray, like any other useless young woman? I could tell from her face that my very presence was objectionable. She even suggested if my purpose here is to assist Mr. Johnson and learn how an estate works, then perhaps I should eat my meals with all the other servants! That it would be good experience for me! Of course, she never says anything in a way that would invite chastisement from her companion. Her insinuations are voiced so sweetly no one else considers them even remotely ill mannered, but to me her intent is obvious."

Elizabeth was well aware that Mrs Annesley's habit was to correct her charge in private, but Nathan did not need to know how often she had been spoken to about her behaviour since his arrival. "Are you not being a little over sensitive? Perhaps she made her suggestion in good faith."

"You did not see the gleam of unholy triumph in her eyes when Mrs Annesley failed to disagree with her. Miss Darcy is a fiend, sent from Hell to torment me."

"Perhaps if you had acted in a more gentlemanlike way when you first met Miss Darcy, she might have felt some compunction to treat you as a gentleman. This is a perfect example of how important first impressions of someone can be. I hope you have at least learned your lesson from it."

Having taken a dislike to Mr. Darcy on the occasion of their first meeting, Elizabeth understood how difficult it was to accept your own opinion might be at fault. It would take time before Georgiana accepted that their first meeting had given her a distorted view of her cousin's character.

Nathan slapped his palm on his thigh in frustration. "Having apologised once already, what more can I do? It is not as though I have ever desired her good opinion."

Elizabeth frowned as she heard herself speaking similar words---I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly---and yet she could not remember speaking them. She rubbed at her temple.

Seemingly ignorant of her inattention, her young cousin continued, his anger undiminished. "Perhaps I was wrong to say the company below stairs would be infinitely preferable, but were her own words not some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?"

More words echoed through her mind---But I have other provocations. You know I have---and yet, although the two sentences somehow went together, she knew not how or why. Closing her eyes, Nathan's voice seemed muted, as though coming from a great distance, while a voice that seemed vaguely familiar to her whispered in her head. Could you expect me to rejoice ... to congratulate ... Elizabeth clutched at her forehead as a spike of pain plunged through her skull, sending her reeling.

Sensing something was amiss, Nathan crouched by her side. "Lizzy? Lizzy, are you ill?"

She sat up, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. "No, no ... I am well. There is no need for concern. ‘Tis only a headache.

Chapter fifty-nine.

Posted on September 27, 2008

A calm quietude prevailed in the library at Matlock Hall, with no breeze to disturb the motes of dust hanging in the air. The whole house seemed to be shrouded in silence, as though in mourning; although, as far as Darcy was aware, the treatment of Lady Catherine by her new son-in-law continued upstairs. Like everyone else, he was forced to wait for news.

His aunt's collapse had occurred so quickly he almost imagined she had been hit by lightning as she dropped to the ground. Anne shrieked, calling out to her mother, but Spencer, clearly recognising something in the manner of her fall, had started towards Lady Catherine within seconds, taking charge of her welfare with no concern for her earlier imprecations against him.

Once he had satisfied himself to her condition, Spencer had ordered the servants to carry her upstairs, where a bedchamber was hastily prepared. Since then, the occupants of the Hall had had little to do but prowl the corridors, waiting for news. Every minute of delay sat ill with Darcy---his heart strained against the leash of family duty---but, the idea of returning to Pemberley without knowing how his aunt fared was unthinkable.

Surely he would not be made to wait much longer?

A book sat open in his lap, unread and ignored, his mind otherwise occupied with his last memory of Elizabeth as he had taken his leave of her that morning. He had found it nigh on impossible to walk away from her, when he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and profess his love. Elizabeth had been disappointed by his refusal to speak, not realising how much he needed to tell her. Only his determination to divulge the whole truth of their meeting in the park at Rosings had forced him from the house with the words unspoken. The subsequent events of the day had not altered his opinion one whit; the story of Anne and Spencer's elopement had, if anything, made him more determined to make Elizabeth his, and as soon as possible.

Rehearsing what he might say to her when they were next alone, Darcy imagined Elizabeth's reaction to his declaration. This time he hoped her response would be quite different. He had learned a lesson; hard indeed at first, but ultimately advantageous. This time he would not---could not---presume she would fall at his feet in gratitude. That was the last thing he desired.

He wanted Elizabeth to accept him because she loved him, with all her heart ... as he loved her.

As Anne loved Spencer.

Ever since they were children Anne had been suffocated under her mother's rule. Spencer, on the other hand, had always been outgoing and determined, but with too much respect for his father to contract such a hasty alliance. That they had chosen to marry at Wingthorpe, in the presence of Captain Hall, had only gone to confirm Darcy's opinion.

Of course, Elizabeth's situation was different. Were he fortunate enough to secure a positive response to his second proposal, they would have to journey to Longbourn to ask Mr. Bennet's permission before they could marry. Mrs Bennet would no doubt wish to plan an elaborate wedding breakfast and Elizabeth would need time to prepare clothes and the like. Darcy's own responsibilities---to see to the settlement documents and collect the jewels his mother had left for just this eventuality---would also delay matters.

He wished Elizabeth had been older---or he a little less honourable---for he found himself envying the simplicity and speed of Anne and Spencer's union.

He heard his uncle's voice in the hallway beyond, and a few moments later the Earl joined him. "Ah ... there you are. All this fuss over Catherine has left me feeling quite worn out." Pouring himself another brandy, his uncle sank gratefully into the chair next to Darcy. "It was a good thing Dr. Hall happened to be on hand when she collapsed, because Dr. Bricknall is a devilish tricky fellow to get hold of at times."

"Where is Spencer?"

"Upstairs, with his patient. My wife has taken Anne off somewhere, out of the way. Poor girl was distraught, thinking she might be the cause of her mother's apoplexy, although I did try to tell her it was not necessarily the case. She will blame herself so, but it is a pointless exercise. Catherine always was highly strung and her anger often gets the better of her."

Darcy slid the book onto the table by his elbow. "Is she likely to survive?"

The Earl looked up suddenly, as though the possibility his sister might die had not occurred to him. "Yes, of course. Hall did not doubt it for a moment, although he did caution me that, at her age, she will never be the same. One side of her body is quite affected, and she may not recover the full use of her hand. He says her speech will also be impaired. My grandfather suffered something very similar, although I was barely breeched at the time. I remember the servants manhandling him from room to room, but he lived on for years. It is all up to Hall now, I suppose. Fortuitous, having a doctor in the family, eh?"

"So you do not object to Anne's marriage?"

The earl's laugh reverberated around the bookshelves. "A little late for objections now, don't you think? They have been married for more than twenty-four hours, and I presume a medical man knows how things work."

"But what of Aunt Catherine's repudiation of Spencer?"

"It makes not a mite of difference to me what Catherine thinks. After receiving assurances from my wife that Anne had no hopes of marriage prior to leaving Rosings---due in no small part to her sickly disposition---it seems to me Dr. Hall reaped what he sowed. To be honest, I am glad. I remember being shocked at how thin and miserable she looked when I took her from Kent, and even I recognise the difference Hall's treatment made. She could have set her sights high had she wished, higher than you even, but if she has found herself a love match, and was prepared to marry him out of hand, who am I to say nay? She might just as easily have run off with a rake, with only an eye for her fortune! Dr. Hall might not be what her mother wished for, but I know he's a good, and above all an honest man, and you cannot say the same about everyone these days."

"I agree, and if circumstances warrant it, he will make an excellent landlord too."

"Of course. Rosings has been part of Anne's dowry since Lewis's death, although Catherine could never accept that fact. Dr. Hall is now a man of property. Does he understand the responsibility he takes on, I wonder?"

"Spencer has no idea of land management, but an experienced steward will go a long way to redressing that deficit, and I will engage to teach him what he must learn."

Lady Matlock entered the room, searching out her husband and nephew. She had some news of the invalid, but the prognosis remained inconclusive. Many more hours would be needed before Dr. Hall could say how badly affected Lady Catherine had been by her stroke.

Darcy stood. "Then there is no benefit in my remaining here any longer. Particularly when I have guests of my own."

"Of course not. Return to Pemberley, we will look after Catherine," the Earl said graciously. He then excused himself, having some letters to write, leaving Darcy with his aunt, whose countenance remained bleak.

Darcy knew the two women---wife and sister--- tolerated each other's company only under sufferance, so understood how hard it would be for the Countess to accept the enforced presence of her sister-in-law.

Lady Matlock swept a hand mechanically over her greying hair, despite there being not a strand out of place. "I never expected I would be forced to care for her in my own home," she said, after some minutes of silence. "The only hopeful prospect I can see is I will not have to listen to Catherine bemoaning her fate." She sniffed, pulled out a small square of white linen and dabbed at her nose delicately. Shaking herself, she gave Darcy a brittle smile. "Do not mind me, my dear. It is just the shock. I am sure I will soon recover my spirits."

It seemed to Darcy that his aunt was more upset by the prospect of Lady Catherine's illness---and possibly her protracted stay at Matlock---than she had ever been by her niece's sudden marriage.

"And what of Miss Bennet?" she said as she perched on the edge of the settee. "Considering the gossip that will abound once Anne's marriage is known, your own match---even to a country gentleman's daughter---will seem a model of propriety in comparison."

Unsurprised by his aunt's declaration, he smiled. "Another reason why I should delay my return no longer."

She looked up at the clock. "The hour grows late. Will you at least remain here tonight? You can set off for Pemberley first thing tomorrow."

Darcy briefly considered remaining overnight, but his heart recoiled at the idea of staying away from home one hour longer than necessary. "I cannot. If I leave now there will be enough light to reach home safely. Now the matter between Anne and Spencer has been resolved and as we are unlikely to learn any more of Lady Catherine in the short term, I should be gone."

"But if you leave now you will not reach Pemberley in time for dinner!"

"I would rather arrive late tonight than lose another day. If I am fortunate I might even get back before the household retires to bed."

Lady Matlock smiled. "Ah! What it is to be young, and able to travel at the drop of a hat! You had better delay no longer then. I trust you will write and let me know how you get on."

"Certainly."

Now desperate to be home, he returned to his room and instructed Marriott to pack his things with all haste. No more than half an hour later, Darcy was striding through the grand door, impatient to be on his way. As he put his boot on the carriage step, a voice behind him caused him to pause.

"Ho, Darcy!"

Spinning around he found Spencer Hall and Anne at the bottom of the steps. "How is Lady Catherine?"

Anne's face dropped, and Spencer gave her a look filled with sympathy before returning his attention to Darcy. "It is hard to tell at the moment. With care she could recover some movement tolerably well, although considering her age I doubt she will make a full recovery. Of course, I will be on hand to look after her, once we return to Kent."

"You will be giving up your practice then?"

"It appears so." Again Spencer glanced at Anne, who returned a warm smile. "After everything that has happened today, we can no longer consider leaving Lady Catherine alone at Rosings. Besides, Anne does not want me to work. She considers the estate and looking after her mother will be enough, but I would like to investigate the possibility of setting up a small hospital in the area. There is one at Tonbridge and another at Maidstone, both of which are horribly overstretched."

"A lofty ambition. The first thing you will need though is a new steward, as Uncle Henry never did succeed in appointing someone to the task. If you wish for my assistance, do not hesitate to send me a note and I will help you all I can."

Spencer grinned. "First should you not set your own estate in order and fill the vacancy that has arisen?"

"Has marriage addled your brain? What vacancy?"

"I think my husband is trying to tease you, Fitzwilliam," Anne replied. "Although I cannot say he shows much aptitude for it at present. The vacancy he is referring to is for Mistress of Pemberley."

Darcy sighed. "Well, as to that, I can only do my poor best. Of course, to be successful I have to be elsewhere." His gaze drifted to Spencer. "But, before I leave, may I ask a question ... in your professional capacity?"

"Yes, of course." Dr. Hall looked expressively at his new wife, waiting as she drifted away, allowing them a moment of privacy. "What would you like to know?"

"I have thought often of Miss Bennet's lost memories since we were in Kent. As time passes, is it more or less likely they will return?"

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. "It is hard to say. She might live for years with no inkling of what happened to her, but they could also come back like that." The snap of his fingers illustrated his point.

Imagining what might happen if Elizabeth's memories returned before he spoke to her, Darcy shivered.

"Are you well, Darcy? You look a little pale."

"I must be for home. I have stayed away too long."

Spencer rubbed at his face. He opened his mouth but closed it again, as though he was undecided whether to speak. Eventually, he said, "Has Miss Bennet mentioned having any strange dreams since arriving in Derbyshire?"

"What kind of dreams?"

The doctor shrugged. "She did not elaborate. When we walked in Hyde Park, it was something she mentioned. Miss Bennet was concerned they might be connected with her accident."

"I have heard nothing, but then she would not confide in me."

"Ah well, perhaps it was of no importance after all." Spencer caught Darcy glancing towards the coach and laughed. "Forgive me, my friend. We are detaining you from an important journey and will not hold you here any longer."

Anne rejoined them. "Yes, cousin, I expect to receive good news before the end of the week!"

As Darcy climbed into his carriage, Spencer closed the door behind him, leaning through the open window. "I wish you luck, Darcy. I am convinced you will find all the happiness you seek with Miss Bennet. Now go!"

Darcy waved to them both through the window before relaxing back into the squabs as the carriage horses took the strain; his eagerness to be miles away communicating itself to the animals.

Memories of the hours spent in Elizabeth's company contrived to keep him sane during his journey. The way her mouth twitched when she thought something funny; how there seemed to be a sparkle in her eye whenever he touched her hand; the warmth of her skin when he had kissed her fingers that morning in the dining room.

Darcy knew he had passed the bounds of propriety by being so familiar, but he found he could not help himself. He sensed a connection to Elizabeth, in a way he had never experienced with another living soul. The idea of a life without her was something he did not wish to dwell on.

As the sun began to drop towards the horizon, Darcy checked his watch in the light of its dying rays. At Pemberley they would just be sitting down to dinner, but there were many miles to travel before he could join them. He wondered whether it would be too late to speak to Elizabeth when he arrived home. If he was forced to wait until tomorrow, he knew he would enjoy no sleep tonight.

The journey home seemed to take twice as long and the relief that welled up inside him as the carriage pulled through the stone pillars marking the entrance to his estate was unlike anything Darcy had ever experienced.

But, then again, there had never been anything so precious for him to come home to before.

When his coach finally stopped in front of the great door, it was well past the dinner hour, although not unreasonably so. The butler expressed no surprise at his master's unexpected return, but simply commented that Miss Darcy and her guests were in the music room.

Grateful he was not too late, Darcy strode through the corridors, accompanied by a haunting melody as someone played a sonata on the pianoforte. The doors stood ajar and beyond them Mrs Bingley and Mrs Annesley sat on the sofa. Bingley stood behind his wife, and all three were looking towards the instrument in the corner. Nathan, meanwhile, gazed through the window; his countenance as dark as the sky outside.

The notes drifted up and down, curling like smoke around the room, but as Darcy opened the doors, he paid no attention to the music flowing from his sister's fingers. Looking around, he realised the one face he had hoped to see was not there.

"Where is Elizabeth?"

It had been an unconscious use of her Christian name, and once Darcy realised his error he stiffened slightly, wondering what the others would say. However, no one appeared to have noticed the familiarity of his address as Mrs Bingley gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Lizzy has not been herself today. A slight headache, I think. Mrs Reynolds gave her something to help her sleep and she went to bed as soon as we finished dinner. Georgiana has been practising this piece for you today. Do you not think she played it beautifully?"

Gone to bed? The disappointment was like a lead ball in his stomach, weighing him down. "What? Oh ... yes, it was well done," he added belatedly.

Georgiana smiled, making him ashamed that he had not paid more attention to the music. "Well? What is the news from our Aunt and Uncle?"

"Yes, Darcy!" Bingley walked around the settee. "You went off before breakfast without a word to any one. What was it that got you so fired up?"

"I am pleased to announce the marriage of my cousin Anne to---"

Georgiana squealed, and raced across the room to throw her arms around her brother. "To Dr. Hall!"

"Ah, it seems their engagement was not wholly unexpected. How long have you known about them, and why did you say nothing to me?"

Georgiana coloured, putting her hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "I did not know! Well ... I knew nothing definite. After I thought you would be marrying Anne, and she explained why that would not be so, she said something that suggested she had a tendre for someone else. I had watched Dr. Hall carefully when he came to Curzon Street and have long suspected his heart belonged to Anne, but I thought their different circumstances would prevent them acting on their feelings. I am so glad I was wrong."

Somewhat mollified that Georgiana had no long standing conviction of Anne's engagement, Darcy then described the circumstances of Lady Catherine's illness, without revealing its source. The company expressed their shock at the situation and he was able to explain the difference Spencer's prompt attention had made.

Understanding he would not be able to speak to Elizabeth until tomorrow, Darcy---now conscious that he had not eaten in some hours---ordered a tray to be sent to his study. As he tucked in to the slices of meat and bread, he caught up on some of the issues that had arisen during his absence and made notes for his steward to deal with.

Sitting in the silence of his room, his pen scratching on the paper, his thoughts drifted again to Elizabeth. Her disappointment on the morning of his departure had given him hope. He was sure Elizabeth knew the question he had so desperately wanted to ask, but there was more to tell. Should he offer his proposal and then acquaint her with their previous meeting, or might the information be better imparted the other way around?

And if she said yes, how much longer would he have to wait before they could be married?

Darcy glanced at the clock on the shadowed mantelpiece. There were many hours before he might have the chance to speak to Elizabeth and he returned his attention to his work. He counted the days. If he obtained a licence, avoiding the need for banns, might he make Elizabeth his within a se'nnight?

Elizabeth's eyes were fixed upon the canopy of the bed, her head cushioned by the down-filled pillow. The pain still throbbed behind her eyes, keeping her from any meaningful kind of sleep.

She had been oddly disconnected all day, unable to settle to the simplest of tasks. Nathan's arm had supported her as they walked back to the house, before depositing Elizabeth in the company of her sister. The pain in her head had grown, blotting out any interest in company, or even food. At dinner that night, she was tempted with little and ate even less, to the obvious concern of everyone present.

As the ladies left the remaining gentlemen to their own devices, Jane bundled her off to bed and Elizabeth had gone willingly.

Since taking the draught Mrs Reynolds had pressed upon her, the intensity of the ache in her head had lessened somewhat, but had not faded completely, and she had twice climbed out of bed to prowl around the room, restlessly examining the ornaments and pictures, or looking through the window at the scene below.

The sky was dark outside. The only source of light highlighting the flowerbeds was the blue grey wash of moonlight, turning the garden into a monochrome of shapes and textures. She stared out into the darkness for a long time, wondering how long Mr. Darcy would be away.

After some time, her eyes grew heavy and she returned to the bed, resting back against the pillows gratefully. After much tossing and turning she managed to fall asleep, but soon the images assailed her, sending confused thoughts and sounds around her head like dandelion seeds cast onto the winds.

It was snowing again. The fluffy white snowflakes fell silently all around her, but she did not feel the cold. Elizabeth stretched out her hand and allowed one of the flakes to fall into her palm. As she closed her fingers around the fragile crystal it felt strange. She unclenched her hand to examine it again. It was not a snowflake, but a petal. A soft, white petal from a flower. Gazing around her, she realised she now stood within a loose circle of apple trees, heavily laden with white blossom. The wind blew through the trees, plucking the delicate blooms from the branches and swirling them around her head, just like snow falling in the depths of winter.

Turning, she saw the stone temple, a location her dreams had brought her back to with an ever increasing frequency. She glanced around, hoping to see Mr. Darcy. As though her thoughts alone summoned him, Elizabeth heard the sound of a horse galloping as he arrived and she waited eagerly until he stood before her.

Once more, he opened his heart, divulging his ardent admiration and love, but this time she did not wake. The dream continued, as he poured forth an avowal of all he felt, and had long felt for her, lifting her heart as though it had wings. As the stormy sky darkened he spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was no more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority---of its being a degradation---of the family obstacles which had always opposed his inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which stabbed like a knife; all the more so because she had come to love him so deeply.

In her slumber, Elizabeth's forehead creased as the dream continued unabated. She thrashed her head back and forth across the pillow, as though repudiating the vision only she could see, and the words only she could hear.

Even as Elizabeth lay sleeping, a single tear ran unchecked down her face