Beginning, Section II, Next Section

"A concussion?" Mr. Bingley appeared shocked. "How on earth did Darcy get a concussion, Harris?"

The butler explained as he showed Mr. Bingley to the reception room. "It is not very serious sir, but the doctor did prescribe bed rest."

"Well, is he allowed visitors?" Mr. Bingley asked. His look of worry moved the butler to make inquiries. While he waited, Mr. Bingley tried to take it all in. He himself had been in the park yesterday afternoon. To think that while he was enjoying a pleasant chat with Elizabeth Bennet, his closest friend was lying injured not far away.

"He will see you, sir," Mr. Harris said in his distinctive grave tone. He led Mr. Bingley to his master's chambers and opened the door, at Mr. Darcy's request, without knocking.

"Darcy! This is dreadful news. Most dreadful!" Mr. Bingley said as he swept past the butler and claimed a chair by the bed. He looked into Mr. Darcy's pained eyes. "Good God, man!" he said in a softer tone. "You look awful!" Mr. Darcy winced, a gesture that could as easily have been mistaken for a smile, however brief. Mr. Bingley sat back, a bit relieved. Mr. Darcy did look haggard. His face was wan, his eyes slightly puffy from sleep, his hair in disarray. He turned his face away from his friend.

"How are you, Bingley," he said quietly. Mr. Bingley patted him on the shoulder.

"Very well, my friend, very well. And so shall you soon be." Mr. Bingley sat quietly by the bed. Within a few minutes, however, Mr. Darcy's spirits began to rally and he and Mr. Bingley made light conversation. "I suppose I will have to tell Caroline about this," Mr. Bingley teased. "When you don't appear at the theatre tonight she'll demand an explanation." Mr. Darcy groaned audibly.

"Can you not just tell her that I was unavoidably detained by some matter of business? If you tell her that I am ill, I will never--."

"Are you suggesting that I lie to my sister, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley tried to appear shocked. "Perhaps I should tell her that you were out booking passage for America," he laughed as he began to contrive elaborate excuses to try on Caroline. Mr. Darcy listened and was quite amused. He turned to look at Mr. Bingley. Surprised at what he saw in his face, Mr. Darcy struggled to sit up and confront his friend.

"What has happened to you Charles?" You are as giddy as a schoolgirl! What have you been up to, man?" Mr. Bingley's face immediately fell and he cursed himself for letting his guard down.

"I am sorry, Darcy. I did not mean to be disruptive. You just seemed so depressed when I came in, I thought to try and cheer you." One glance told Mr. Darcy that the story was a falsehood.

"What have you been up to, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy repeated, his own pain forgotten. He thought back to his late meeting with Charles Bingley but a few days ago. The man before him bore little resemblance to the quiet, forlorn creature Mr. Bingley had become since his return to London. He has seen Jane Bennet! It must be so--nothing else could rouse him to this degree. Mr. Darcy ran a hand through his hair. He could not ask Mr. Bingley; to do so would reveal his own duplicity in the scheme to keep Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley apart. Mr. Darcy tried to calm himself. He lay back on the pillows and watched Mr. Bingley closely.

Mr. Bingley, for his part, immediately recognized the danger signs. He knew that Mr. Darcy was onto something and that he would hold onto it with the tenacity of a fish swimming upstream. He decided to take a calculated risk. It could blow up in his face, but it might buy him the time he needed. If Fitzwilliam Darcy knew his weakness, Mr. Bingley certainly knew Mr. Darcy's. He looked Mr. Darcy in the eye.

"You will never guess whom I met in the park yesterday afternoon," he said, flashing the full radiance of his smile.

"Why are you changing the subject, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy asked smugly. He folded his arms across his chest and peered at the younger man. If he expected Mr. Bingley to crack, however, he was disappointed. Mr. Bingley casually got up and began to stroll around the room. "Quit stalling, Bingley," Mr. Darcy intoned from his bed. Mr. Bingley continued to smile as he scanned a pair of fine hunting prints hung near the large mahogany bureau. Then he stopped at the bureau and began to pick up and examine each object on a silver tray containing Mr. Darcy's personal effects.

"I am not stalling, Darcy," he said as he read To George From Anne, 1775 engraved on a fine gold pocket watch. "I am merely attempting to answer your question." He next picked up and hefted the penknife he himself had given Mr. Darcy as a young man some years ago. "Do you want to know or not?" Mr. Bingley asked as he picked up a small square Sterling silver pillbox that had belonged to Mr. Darcy's mother. Mr. Bingley knew that Mr. Darcy always carried it. He was tempted to shake it; Mr. Darcy might use it to carry snuff but Mr. Bingley had never known Mr. Darcy to indulge in the substance. And since he had never seen Mr. Darcy ill a day in his life, Mr. Bingley sincerely doubted that it contained any pills.

"I am in no mood for games, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said as he rolled his eyes. He immediately felt a wave of dizzying pain. He closed his eyes and lay back. As the pain subsided, Mr. Darcy opened his eyes once more and turned his head toward the bureau. His eyes suddenly grew wide with terror. Mr. Bingley was oblivious, however, as he picked up a small Sterling silver vial. Smelling salts? Darcy? Mr. Bingley instinctively glanced at his friend, who looked stricken, as if he was about to cry out but was too agitated to speak. Mr. Bingley replaced the vial and hurried to the bed.

"Darcy?"

"Out with it, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said tersely, trying to mask his brief panic. Mr. Bingley very nearly lost his resolve. He knew that Mr. Darcy was not well. It might not be fair to do this to him just now. Mr. Darcy, now fully recovered, sat up and silently dared him. Mr. Bingley threw down his trump card.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet." The three words had their desired effect. Jane Bennet was no longer a threat to Mr. Darcy's complacency. He just sat, mouth and eyes agape, his mind and heart reeling at this revelation.

I knew it! He is as besotted with Elizabeth as I am with Jane. The hypocrite! The dirty deed accomplished, Mr. Bingley turned to leave, then thought better of it. Taking pity on his friend, he went to the chair and sat down quietly.

As soon as Elizabeth Bennet left the parlor, Olivia wheeled on a startled Colonel Fitzwilliam and resumed her argument. After the initial shock of the sudden attack, however, the Colonel didn't really pay attention. He was too interested in contemplating what he'd learned from Miss Bennet.

"You are not even listening to me!" The Colonel looked down into a pair of large brown eyes. Olivia was standing on her toes in a fairly laughable attempt at being menacing as she vented her frustration. The Colonel suppressed the urge to laugh as Olivia began to totter. She raised her hands to his chest to steady herself and fell silent as the Colonel placed his hands on her waist at the same moment. The Colonel, his senses assaulted by Olivia's close proximity, gently pushed her back so that she was an arm's distance away. Olivia couldn't take her eyes from his.

"Can we not discuss this rationally, Miss Crenshaw?" the Colonel said in a voice universally reserved for calming hysterical children. The mute lady backed away and nodded. She felt herself blushing and finally lowered her head. The Colonel, also aware of his narrow escape, began to pace the room. He stopped to examine a small portrait of Olivia on the wall as he asked, "What are we doing?" He turned to Olivia and waited for a response with his hands behind his back.

"Excuse me, sir?" Olivia was baffled. Was he speaking about Elizabeth, or about what had just transpired between the two of them? She felt her pulse quicken. The Colonel began to pace again.

"Why are two reasonably mature and sensible people meddling in the private affairs of two other reasonably mature and sensible people, who, I am sure, would not appreciate our interference?"

"I never endeavored to interfere in the private matters between Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, Colonel," Olivia said, rising. Her eyes flashed. "You are the one who all but said that Mr. Darcy was in love with Lizzy."

"I did no such thing," he replied with equal vehemence. He strode over to Olivia and found himself nose to nose (or rather, chin to nose) with her once more. He stopped and took a step back. Olivia began to redden again (rather prettily, Colonel Fitzwilliam thought) and he turned away.

"Did Mr. Darcy really mention Lizzy in his letters to you?" Olivia asked after a few moments.

"I never said he did. Darcy found several things to like in Hertfordshire--the hunting, the scenery, the serenity. He wrote of all these things in his letters to me. He also wrote that he had met with only one person he found remotely interesting in Hertfordshire. He never mentioned any name." The Colonel turned back to Olivia. "I do recall, however, that he wrote of spending time with a Miss Bennet at Netherfield in his letter to his sister. I remember Georgiana asking me about her. I could not answer her inquiries since I had not yet met the lady. But taken together, the evidence suggests that the only 'interesting' person Darcy found in Hertfordshire is Elizabeth Bennet."

"Really?" said Olivia, as the wheels began to turn. "It may interest you to know, Colonel, that Elizabeth Bennet despises Mr. Darcy."

"What?" the Colonel's surprise was evident and Olivia relished her coup.

"At least she claims to despise him." Olivia now began to pace. "It may also interest you to know the real reason why Lizzy ran off yesterday."

"Do tell, Miss Crenshaw," pleaded the Colonel with that irresistible smile.

"She saw Mr. Darcy." The Colonel furrowed his brows. "She ran because she did not want him to see her."

"She said that?" the Colonel stopped Olivia and looked deep into her eyes.

"She said that she was afraid that if Mr. Darcy saw her he might try and interfere in her efforts to reunite Mr. Bingley and her sister, Jane." Colonel Fitzwilliam, who still wasn't totally clear on Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet's history, discounted that part of the story and focused on the principals.

"Elizabeth Bennet ran from the sight of Darcy?" He mulled it over in his head. "And yet she seemed very interested in his welfare a few minutes ago."

"That might be out of a sense of guilt," Olivia said meekly.

"Yes. She might feel guilty, indeed, Miss Crenshaw," he replied with a slight smirk. "But I do not think so. You saw how she blushed at my little 'disclosure.'"

"What of it? Any woman might blush under such circumstances," Olivia reasoned as she took a seat.

"Not if she hated the man. No, no, her blush definitely spoke of flattery, surprise. That was not a flush of anger or hatred," the Colonel said with certainty. "A woman does not blush when--."

"Oh, and are you an expert on ladies' blushes, Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Olivia said with a batting of her long eyelashes. The Colonel bit down on his instinctive reply, and reminded himself that he was in the presence of the lady...who had an amazing ability to drive him to distraction. He tried to remain focused.

"I know anger when I see it, madam," the Colonel managed, averting his eyes from Olivia's. "And if Miss Bennet claims to despise my cousin I think 'the lady doth protest too much'."

"So what do we do about it, Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Olivia asked, conspiratorially. The Colonel's eyes met Olivia's.

"That is precisely my point, Miss Crenshaw. What right have we to do anything about it?"

"You saw her in the park," Mr. Darcy said in a monotone. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he should be feigning disinterest but he could only manage to keep his voice steady. He looked at Mr. Bingley. "When--uh, what is she doing in London?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Just passing through, she said. Miss Bennet is on her way to visit friends somewhere in the country," Mr. Bingley replied, carefully choosing his words. He knew that the mention of Elizabeth Bennet's name would arouse Mr. Darcy's interest but he didn't want to have to answer too many questions.

"So you did speak with her." Mr. Darcy fought to keep his voice even. He wanted to ask a million questions. What was she wearing? Where did he find her? Was she alone? Where is she now? He swallowed and tried to sound casual. "Was she in good health?"

"Oh, yes," Mr. Bingley declared. "And all her family as well." Mr. Darcy turned to peer at Mr. Bingley.

"All her family?" The image of Jane Bennet crowded into his addled mind, but only her sister mattered to him now.

"Yes. She said that her parents and sisters were all well."

"She is not in town alone? She must be traveling with someone." Mr. Bingley began to feel warm, but he persevered.

"She is traveling with Sir William Lucas and one of his daughters, Miss Maria, I think it was. She's staying with her and uncle in Gracechurch Street. Lovely people." Mr. Darcy leapt upon this bit of information.

"You met them?" His tone was slightly incredulous. He had seen Elizabeth quite alone in the park. Where had Mr. Bingley seen her relatives?

"Oh yes. I offered Miss Bennet a ride home and she invited me in to meet her aunt and uncle and to see my Hertfordshire neighbors," Mr. Bingley said easily, although Mr. Darcy's imperious stare, weakened by his constant headache as it was, continued unchecked.

"She was so far from Gracechurch Street without a carriage?" Mr. Darcy was suspicious.

"Come now, Darcy," Mr. Bingley chided, "You sound like Caroline."

"And did Miss Bingley like being reacquainted with Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy retorted. He waited for Mr. Bingley's response with a small smirk about his lips.

"They were not reacquainted. Caroline was at her friend's house at the time. I was returning from the club and decided to cut across the park since it was such a lovely afternoon. I saw a familiar-looking woman pass me by as I was walking. It took me a minute to realize who it was. I turned back and caught up with her."

That is a mistake, Bingley, that I would never make. "And she had not recognized you either?"

"I say, Darcy! You are full of questions for a sick man! Are you not supposed to be taking it easy?" Mr. Bingley said with a laugh.

"Just making conversation, Bingley," Mr. Darcy lied. He lay back on the pillows. "Do you not think it extraordinary that you should meet Miss Bennet here in London?"

"Why not, Darcy? She managed to meet us in Hertfordshire!" Mr. Bingley was purposefully obtuse and Mr. Darcy surrendered. Mr. Bingley rose to leave.

"Any messages for Caroline?" he asked as he opened the door. He quickly shut it behind him as the pillow came flying at his head. It closed with a resounding thud. Mr. Bingley cringed as he heard Mr. Darcy howl. As he drew on his gloves a few moments later, Mr. Bingley's smile returned. He had dealt with Mr. Darcy. Now he just had to figure out how to deal with his sister Caroline.

Part 3

Mr. Harris led Elizabeth Bennet to the sunlit drawing room of the Darcy townhouse and asked her to wait while he spoke with the master. Elizabeth was impressed by the pale peach color of the walls, which stood in striking contrast to the deep tones used on the upholstery throughout the room. Mr. Darcy had ordered the room repainted in that color on his return from Hertfordshire, according to some of the household staff, to match the complexion of a certain lady. Speculation about the identity of that lady ran rampant below stairs. Of course, Elizabeth knew nothing of the rumors as she did a brief tour of the room, admiring both Mr. Darcy's taste and restraint in the décor. She settled into the window seat and laughed at the antics of a pair of squirrels in the stately tree just outside the window. Elizabeth stopped laughing, however, as she recalled the purpose of her visit. She had come out of concern for Mr. Darcy. She was not certain of the reception she would receive but she had left Olivia's house feeling responsible for his injury. She should at least pay her respects, even if Mr. Darcy would not welcome them.

Elizabeth stood up, wrung her hands, and began to pace the room. She heard a commotion behind her and turned as a footman opened the wide oak doors. A second footman wheeled in Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth paled and covered her mouth with a hand to hide her gasp. She had not expected this! Mr. Darcy did not look weak or pale. Indeed, he looked far too robust and virile to be confined to a wheelchair. How could he have suffered so much in the space of twenty-four hours! Elizabeth cautiously stepped forward as Mr. Darcy was wheeled to a spot near the fire. Elizabeth's pulse quickened as he reached out to take her hand.

"Mr. Darcy, I came as soon as I learned of your accident. Colonel Fitzwilliam told me you were not badly injured, but evidently he was only trying to spare my feelings." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Mr. Darcy this is all my fault. I never intended for such a thing to happen- -I- -I cannot explain my behavior yesterday, but I shall never forgive myself..."

"No, no, Miss Bennet. You are in no way responsible for my accident. Whatever made you think that you were?" Mr. Darcy's gentle smile did nothing to diminish her pain. Elizabeth sat in the chair the footman had pulled up close to Mr. Darcy's own imposing mahogany chair.

"Mr. Darcy," she began, "I must make a confession. Yesterday you assisted my friend, Olivia Crenshaw, in a search for someone in _____ Park. What you do not know is that person was me." Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to look Mr. Darcy in the eye, but had she done so, she would have seen a wry smile suffusing his features. "I was out walking with Miss Crenshaw, you see, and when she stopped to speak with a gentleman--." She paused, unsure of how much of the truth she should reveal. "Well, to make a long story short, I wandered off and got lost, which lead to Colonel Fitzwilliam and yourself becoming involved in the search for me, and that, of course, lead to your accident." Her voice lost volume as she spoke. She stared at the tartan blanket on Mr. Darcy's lap, and would not look up. Mr. Darcy studied her eyelashes as he thought through his response. A single tear ran down Elizabeth's cheek and he reached out to wipe it away with a thumb. She looked up then and his questions no longer seemed important. Elizabeth was there beside him. That was all that mattered.

"You must not blame yourself for my accident. It was quite my own fault, I assure you. If I had been paying better attention to where I was walking...no matter. My doctors expect me to make a full recovery in time. You must not trouble yourself, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth looked up then and her eyes locked with Mr. Darcy's. He reached out and took her hand, but she pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it. Mr. Darcy looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. Elizabeth returned the smile and two hearts that had so long been divided were finally one.

"Lizzy!" Jane poked her head into the room where Elizabeth sat on a small bench having her hair done. "Oh, Lizzy, you look beautiful!" That color is perfect on you!" Jane went to the dressing table and began looking for something. "Lizzy, I have run out of lavender water. May I borrow some of yours?" Once again, Jane got no response from her sister, who sat as still as a statue while the maid wove gold ribbons through her hair. "Lizzy? Are you all right?" Elizabeth continued to stare, unseeing, at her reflection. The maid completed her work and departed. Jane sat on the edge of the bed, her quest for lavender water forgotten. Elizabeth slowly turned her head and looked at her sister.

"Yes, Jane," she said in a strained voice. Jane wasn't completely convinced, but there was no time to pursue the matter.

"Here," she said, handing Elizabeth a black velvet cloak. "Aunt Gardiner said that since you are more endowed than me you should wear this. I am wearing her burgundy coat. It is so stylish!" she gushed. "Oh, Lizzy! Tonight is going to be wonderful!"

"Your enthusiasm would not have anything at all to do with the strong likelihood of encountering a certain Mr. Bingley at the theatre, would it?" Elizabeth, now fully recovered, asked over an arched brow. Jane's smile was sufficient reply, but Jane had been eager for an opportunity to confide in her sister.

"Until yesterday, I never thought I would see him again, but when I did it was as if we were never apart!"

"Did he explain his sudden departure from Hertfordshire last year?" Elizabeth queried.

"I would not dare ask such a thing! We barely spoke of Hertfordshire at all. Oh, Lizzy, I can hardly believe that Mr. Bingley walked through that door yesterday! It was like a dream!

"A dream," repeated Elizabeth, her mind now torn between concern for her sister and the disturbing daydream she had just endured. "Be careful, Jane," Elizabeth cautioned. Ever since her chat with Colonel Fitzwilliam earlier she'd felt a sense of dread. It wasn't his teasing about Mr. Darcy that bothered her; rather, it was his suggestion that Mr. Darcy had seen Elizabeth in the park that haunted her. If, as she strongly suspected, he had played a role in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane, her sister might be rushing toward a second heartbreak.

"I will be fine, Lizzy." Jane paused to watch Elizabeth don the cloak over her new gown, a gift from her aunt and uncle. "You do look lovely, Lizzy. I am sure even Mr. Darcy would approve!" she cried, and whisked out of the room. Elizabeth whirled to glare at her retreating figure.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's heels beat out a sharp tattoo as he strode down the marble floor. He found Mr. Harris dressing down a young footman outside Mr. Darcy's study. When the butler had dismissed the unfortunate youth, he walked upstairs with the Colonel and gave him a brief report.

"He seems somewhat improved, sir. He is eating normally, no signs of nausea or vomiting, and no signs of further damage. Mr. Bingley came by and visited with the master for a while, sir." He paused. "Mr. Darcy is a little out of humor, but he never did take well to confinement." With thirty years of service to the Darcy estates under his belt, Mr. Harris spoke of the master with a surety that the Colonel dared not question. The veteran of several military campaigns, Colonel Fitzwilliam literally knew more about concussions than he could remember. He trod lightly, therefore, as he passed his cousin's door.

"Miss Bennet!" The figure a few yards ahead of him turned at the sound of her name.

"Mister Darcy!" Her surprise at being addressed by him was evident.

"How do you do, Miss Bennet," he said, with a tip of his hat. Elizabeth gave a brief curtsey.

"Mr. Darcy! You have no idea how glad I am to see a familiar face. I am afraid I have gotten myself quite lost." Her words came out in a rush. The wind picked up suddenly and she unsuccessfully attempted to bat a stray curl out of her eyes. Mr. Darcy deftly caught the offending strand between his thumb and forefinger. Elizabeth took it from him and blushed becomingly as she tucked it into her bonnet.

"Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure, madam," he replied with a gallant bow. "You were saying, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. But her mortification at having to rely on Mr. Darcy for help was overcome by her desperation.

"I was saying, sir, that I am quite lost and was hoping I might prevail upon you for assistance."

"I thought you seemed awfully far from Meryton, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy quipped. Elizabeth's mouth fell open. Mr. Darcy grinned impishly. "How may I be of service?"

"If you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of --." Elizabeth began, but Mr. Darcy quickly interrupted.

"Perhaps it would be best--given the late hour, Miss Bennet--if I were to simply escort you wherever you wish to go." He offered his arm to a stunned Elizabeth, who took it, and they began to walk. Elizabeth had not given Mr. Darcy her direction. In truth, she had been so struck by the alteration in his behavior that she had forgotten about it. For his part, Mr. Darcy was content merely to be in Elizabeth's company. They strolled for some minutes in silence. Elizabeth glanced up at her companion. Mr. Darcy was smiling!

"May I ask you something, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, of course, Miss Bennet," he replied.

"Do you have a twin brother?" The object of her joke laughed so merrily, Elizabeth was certain that this man, as well as the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire, were complete strangers to her.

The valet who had brought a carafe of fresh water to place on his master's nightstand was surprised to see a smile playing across Mr. Darcy's lips. The man took it as a sign that his master was on the mend and said a silent prayer of thanks as he left the room.

Down the hall, Colonel Fitzwilliam loosened his cravat and carelessly tossed it on a chair. His waistcoat quickly followed. The Colonel kicked off his boots and threw himself on the bed. His visit with Miss Crenshaw had not ended well. He wished they could take back some of the harsh words they had exchanged. He rolled over on his back and covered his eyes with a forearm.

"That is precisely my point, Miss Crenshaw. What right have we to do anything about it?"

"Do you not think that two people so well suited to each other should be encouraged?" Olivia pleaded.

"I do not know that they are well suited. Obviously, Darcy did not think so. He left Hertfordshire without her," the Colonel reasoned.

"Mr. Darcy left Hertfordshire because of Mr. Bingley," Olivia retorted.

"According to your Miss Bennet," the Colonel replied. "And, according to your Miss Bennet, Darcy did not approve of Mr. Bingley's infatuation with Jane Bennet."

"So?"

"So, Miss Crenshaw, it stands to reason that if Darcy did not approve of one Bennet he would hardly approve of the other. Do you really think he could separate his closest friend from the woman he loved and yet have the temerity to pursue her sister?" An awkward silence ensued as Olivia digested his argument.

"But Mr. Darcy has done Mr. Bingley a grievous wrong!" Olivia cried with passion.

"According to Miss Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected. Olivia shot him a withering glance.

"Look Colonel, if we could bring Mr. Darcy and Lizzy together, that would clear the way for Jane and Mr. Bingley." She cut off the Colonel's response. "Do you not see? If we could only make Mr. Darcy and Lizzy realize that they are in love with one another then all four of them can find happiness." Olivia sat down with a satisfied smile, revealing a tiny dimple in each cheek.

"'We' Miss Crenshaw? I don't want any part of manipulating two people--or four, for that matter--who may have perfectly valid reasons for remaining apart!" the Colonel declared.

"Jane and Mr. Bingley's only reason for being apart is the cruel interference of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sisters," Olivia hissed through clenched teeth. The Colonel tried to defuse her anger.

"We only have Miss Bennet's word on that." Olivia bristled at his repetition. "We have not heard from any of the other parties involved. Perhaps Mr. Bingley simply lost interest in the lady; maybe there is another woman! Perhaps--."

"Perhaps you are just as arrogant and self-righteous as your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam! Perhaps," she shouted, "You also think the Bennets unworthy of your cousin or his friend!"

"Miss Crenshaw!" the shocked Colonel declared, rising to his feet. "I think nothing of the kind!" He paused and softened his voice. "I just think you ought to be very careful. There may be things about all this that you don't know.'

"I know that my dear friend Jane has been sitting in a house on Gracechurch Street these past two months with a broken heart. I know that Mr. Darcy played some role in that heartbreak. I know that Mr. Darcy is in love with Elizabeth Bennet. And I know," Olivia said, her voice rising in volume again, "That you are hypocritical, stubborn, and --."

"How do you know?" the Colonel asked suddenly. Olivia's eyes flashed dangerously. "...About Darcy being in love, I mean," he added with a sweet smile. Disarmed by the question, and undoubtedly distracted by his smile, Olivia had to pause and think a second.

"You did not see his eyes yesterday," she said finally.

"I saw his eyes, Miss Crenshaw. They were dilated, unfocused, and occasionally crossed. Those are indicators of concussion, Miss Crenshaw, not love," the Colonel sneered.

"You did not see him when he was looking for Lizzy. You had gone off, then," she said with conviction.

"He had been knocked in the head! Perhaps he was delirious!"

"What difference does it make? Even in his delirium he only thought of her!" If the Colonel was impressed by this revelation he didn't show it. He thought again of his cousin's cryptic statement.

"Miss Crenshaw," he said evenly. "I do not think this is something you should meddle with. Worry about reuniting Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet if you must, or worry about your own love life, but do not go getting--."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do not seem to have a love life at the present time! Good day, sir." Olivia turned and stalked out of the room.

The Colonel stretched and turned on his side. He replayed the scene in his head again and again. He was still stung by the bitterness of Miss Crenshaw's tone. He was sorry he had provoked her--he hadn't intended for her to take his words that way. In truth, he couldn't say exactly what he meant by his ill-conceived statement. Miss Crenshaw always seemed to have a disturbing effect on his composure and the Colonel always found himself saying, thinking, or doing things he hadn't planned on when he was in her company. Maybe Darcy is right--she is the one. Olivia Crenshaw is destined to either be the love of my life or the bane of my existence. He definitely preferred the former, although he wasn't quite ready to tell her that just yet . He closed his eyes and soon dozed off.

A carillon of bells drowned out the cheers and well wishes of the assembled party that had just witnessed the marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. As the happy couple made its way up the aisle, Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself arm in arm with Jane Bennet, who was as radiant as the bride herself. The best man and maid of honor followed the happy couple out of the church, where the Colonel safely delivered Jane into the hands of her beloved. Mr. Bingley had deferred the honor of being Mr. Darcy's best man to the Colonel. His reply to Mr. Darcy when he had made the offer to Mr. Bingley was "When I stand up at the altar, Darcy, I intend to be the groom!"

Mr. Bingley was to have that opportunity two months hence, when he and Jane would marry. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood alone as he watched Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy ride off. He felt a gentle jab in his back and spun around.

"I believe you owe me an apology, sir," Olivia Crenshaw declared triumphantly. The Colonel couldn't help staring. It had been months since they had spoken and Olivia had pointedly refused to make eye contact with him in the church just minutes earlier. Nonetheless, he bestowed upon her his most charming smile.

"I would happily apply myself to the task, madam, if you would be so kind as to remind me of my transgression."

"You, Colonel, told me not to meddle in the affairs of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet--that is, Mrs. Darcy," she replied, emphasizing the last two words.

"You do not mean to suggest, Miss Crenshaw that all this is your doing?" the Colonel asked with a gesture towards the church.

"Indeed I do, sir." The Colonel was in the mood for Miss Crenshaw's game and played along. He offered his arm and led her toward the waiting carriages.

"You can, of course, offer proof of your claim."

"Of course, Colonel. They all but declared themselves right before my eyes."

"Witnessing and facilitating are worlds apart, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel remarked airily.

"Do you doubt me, Colonel?" Olivia asked coquettishly.

"I am merely awaiting your proof, Miss Crenshaw."

"Ride with me in my carriage, and I will tell you the tale." The Colonel handed Olivia into her carriage, where Mr. Crenshaw and the young Lieutenant Crenshaw were awaiting her. Thus is came to pass that Olivia and the Colonel had to postpone their talk until after the wedding breakfast at the Bennet estate. They took a walk in the well-manicured garden behind the manse. The Colonel wasn't really interested in Miss Crenshaw's story. After all, he already knew the truth. The Colonel himself was responsible for the Darcys' current happiness. That fleeting glimpse of Elizabeth in _____ Park convinced Mr. Darcy that he'd made a terrible mistake in letting her go earlier. He had made a complete confession to Mr. Bingley and the two had returned to Netherfield to court their respective ladies.

"In fact, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy had confided to the Colonel over port a week a few evenings ago, "It was my talk with you about Miss Crenshaw that did the trick. If--."

Mr. Darcy stopped himself, realizing that he'd opened an old wound. The two had sat in silence for some time and when they spoke again it was on a very different topic. The Colonel returned his attention to his present company.

"I believe you still owe me an explanation, Miss Crenshaw. The Colonel's voice startled Olivia out of her own reverie. She had missed the Colonel more than she cared to admit, and she relished being in his company once more.

"Do we have to talk about it just now? I would like to enjoy the scenery--and your company, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It has been a long time since we walked out together." It didn't seem to occur to Olivia that their separation had been entirely her own doing, and the Colonel was too much the gentleman to remind her.

"I would be perfectly content to admire the scenery and share my company, ma'am." The Colonel gave her a sidelong glance. "Is this your way of conceding that you have no proof that you are responsible for the Darcys' marriage?"

"It most certainly is not, sir!" Olivia replied with a laugh. "But I will concede your point that some things are more important than the Darcys' love life."

"Such as?" The Colonel had no idea what she was talking about.

"Such as my own." This the Colonel understood perfectly.

"Your love life, Miss Crenshaw?"

"Well, actually, my lack of one." He remembered their last meeting and the circumstances of the rift between them.

"I suppose you expect me to help you to remedy that unfortunate situation, Miss Crenshaw," replied the colonel, heart pounding.

"I recall your strong objection to meddling in the affairs of others," Olivia stated matter-of-factly, "But I hope to persuade you to make an exception in this case." She looked deep into the Colonel's eyes. The military strategist in him admired the boldness of her attack. The man in him cowered in terror. He knew he was a lost man. Colonel Richard Thomas Fitzwilliam had never before faced the possibility of surrender, but he was determined to submit to Miss Crenshaw's will (whatever it was) graciously.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" The man was still smiling, but something in his countenance weakened Olivia's bravado...

"Fitzwilliam?" The Colonel felt his shoulder being roughly jostled and turned to see his cousin.

"Darcy? Why are you not on your honeymoon?" the Colonel asked groggily.

"What in blazes are you talking about? Wake up, man!" The Colonel was rudely jostled until he sat up and pushed his cousin's hands away.

"What are you doing in here?" the Colonel managed through a yawn.

"Have you any plans for this evening, Fitzwilliam?" Darcy asked, gingerly lowering himself onto the bed. He sat still for a moment as the pain in his head subsided. "I had plans for the theatre with Bingley and his sister for this evening, with a late supper here afterwards." He hesitated for a moment. "I thought you might be willing to play the host in my place." The prospect of an evening in the company of a disappointed Miss Bingley did not appeal to the Colonel. He lay back and closed his eyes, hoping that Miss Crenshaw still awaited his reply. "Fitzwilliam!" Mr. Darcy shouted a bit too loudly, and felt the name reverberate in his head.

"Why do you not go yourself? I once rode twenty miles of bad road in enemy territory with a worse head wound than the one you have!" The Colonel turned over and prayed for his cousin to leave him in peace.

"That would explain much," Mr. Darcy mumbled. He tried another tack. "The play is 'Twelfth Night.' You have always enjoyed Shakespeare's comedies. And Cook is preparing roast duck tonight."

"I still do not see why you cannot go to the theatre, although I will accept the dinner invitation," the Colonel said, climbing out of bed. "On second thought, I will go. I just remembered that the Crenshaws are going to the theatre this evening." Mr. Darcy gave him a knowing smirk as the Colonel began to rummage around in his closet for evening wear. "I understand they are bringing two ladies from Hertfordshire. Perhaps you were acquainted with them while you were there last year," he added casually. This isn't meddling, he rationalized. It is the truth plain and simple, and if it makes Miss Crenshaw happy--and by her calculation, several others as well--then he could live with the twinge of guilt he felt in his breast. "By the bye, Darcy. Do you think we should postpone our visit to Rosings for a few weeks? Darcy?" Mr. Darcy had gone back to his room and ordered a bath. An hour later, he and the Colonel were dressed and ready to set out for the theatre.

Olivia no longer looked forward to an evening at the theatre with her friends. When the arrangements had been made three days prior, she eagerly anticipated an evening in the company of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. Now, however, she was decidedly not in the mood for company. She regretted her row with Colonel Fitzwilliam. In fact, she couldn't exactly say why she was angry with him. He had refused to help her get Lizzy and Mr. Darcy together and without his help she didn't stand much of a chance of succeeding. But it was a moot point, anyway; Lizzy was to leave for Hunsford in the morning with the Lucas's, and Mr. Darcy was sick at home in bed. When the carriage stopped in Gracechurch Street, therefore, Olivia greeted Elizabeth and Jane with considerably less than her usual enthusiasm. Not that either woman noticed; Jane was enthusiastic enough for everyone in the carriage, and Elizabeth was consumed with thoughts of her own.

She was still disturbed by her daydream about Fitzwilliam Darcy. Well, not about Mr. Darcy, she insisted. It was a dream in which Mr. Darcy played a central role. It was a dream in which Elizabeth had to confront her guilt, but Elizabeth resolutely told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn't hit him in the head! Elizabeth tried, unsuccessfully, to pay attention to the conversation between Jane and Mr. Crenshaw. Why was I dreaming about Mr. Darcy?

Elizabeth felt very uncomfortable, not precisely about the dream, but about what it represented. She clearly had no romantic illusions about Mr. Darcy. Yes, she conceded, Mr. Darcy was certainly handsome and wealthy. She supposed he was intelligent, articulate; she even had to concede that he had a sense of humor. But he was also an arrogant snob. No, he was worse: he was a presumptuous, arrogant snob. No, Elizabeth Bennet wasn't about to fall in love with Mr. Darcy. What bothered her most about the dream was that it portrayed Mr. Darcy as a sympathetic character. And she felt no sympathy for Mr. Darcy whatsoever, she told herself repeatedly. Whatever he suffered he deserved.

Olivia looked across the carriage at her friend. Lizzy does not look at all herself this evening. The Colonel and I were severe upon her this afternoon. I hope she is not angry with me. Although, Olivia reasoned, if she should be angry with anyone it is Colonel Fitzwilliam. After all, he was the one who teased her about Mr. Darcy. If only the Colonel had not been so unreasonable. If only she had had an opportunity to speak with him before he met Lizzy. If only Olivia hadn't lost her temper and ruined her only chance of assuring the happiness of her two friends. Sadly, Olivia conceded, she had certainly ruined her own chances with the Colonel as well.

Mr. Bingley whistled tunelessly as he carefully brushed his hair. He was in an extremely good mood. He was looking forward to an evening at the theatre and another opportunity to see Jane Bennet. He had learned at supper the other evening that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were to attend the theatre with the Crenshaws tonight and Mr. Bingley happened to know that the Crenshaw box was directly opposite Mr. Darcy's. And since he would be attending the theatre at Mr. Darcy's invitation, he would be in a perfect position to observe his ladylove throughout the performance. That is, unless he was able to manage an invitation to join the Crenshaws for an act or two. It would be a most pleasant evening, indeed. It was a pity Mr. Darcy was unable to attend. He too, might have enjoyed the evening, since Elizabeth Bennet would be perfectly situated for Mr. Darcy's enjoyment of the evening as well. But Mr. Bingley wasn't about to let Mr. Darcy's being indisposed put a damper on his plans.

Mr. Bingley put down the brush and adjusted his cravat for the third time. He thought back to this morning's visit with his friend. The expression on Mr. Darcy's face was priceless! The poor boy must have it very bad. But Mr. Bingley couldn't bring himself to feel any remorse for what he'd done. All is fair in love and war, my friend!

Mr. Bingley began to whistle again as he thought about his sister Caroline. She would not be pleased to see Jane Bennet this evening. He thought about how he would deal with her disapproval. Mr. Bingley now realized that his sister and Mr. Darcy had conspired to separate him from Jane Bennet, but however valid their reasoning may have been, he was not about to allow them to interfere again. Mr. Darcy might be a formidable obstacle to his plans, but Mr. Bingley knew that if he stood his ground, Mr. Darcy would respect his decision and let him have his way. He would have to live with Caroline, however, at least until the Hursts returned from the Continent. There was a banging at the door. Startled into silence, Mr. Bingley opened it to find his sister, resplendent in pumpkin-colored silk, glaring at him.

"Will you cease that infernal whistling! It is enough to drive a person mad!" Miss Bingley cried, sweeping into the room.

"I am sorry, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said insincerely. He went to take a last look in the mirror. Miss Bingley followed him.

"What are you so happy about?" she demanded, crossing her arms and continuing to glare at him.

"Why should I not be happy?" he challenged, and as Miss Bingley could think of no plausible response, she didn't answer. She picked a mote of dust off his shoulder.

"Charles," she asked suddenly, as she turned him around and fidgeted with his cravat. "Did you have a nice luncheon with Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bingley's face dropped.

"We did not go to lunch. I am afraid I have some distressing news, Caroline." She looked at him expectantly. "I am afraid Darcy has had a little accident. He will be unable to join us at the theatre this evening."

"An accident? What manner of accident?" Miss Bingley cried, gripping her brother's arm.

"Nothing too serious, don't worry. But he has to stay in bed for a few days."

"Do you think I should call on him?"

"You! Of course not! It would be highly improper for you to enter a bachelor's house unattended." Miss Bingley was too exasperated to blush at her brother's suggestion.

"I meant in your company, Charles, of course! I would not dream of compromising myself by appearing on Mr. Darcy's doorstep alone." Mr. Bingley eyed his sister suspiciously for a moment.

"I have received a note from Darcy saying that he's sending Colonel Fitzwilliam in his place. He will pick us up in the carriage at the top of the hour." Charles felt a little guilty. He knew he should have told his sister about Mr. Darcy earlier, but she had been out shopping all afternoon and this was his first opportunity. Miss Bingley plopped ungraciously on Mr. Bingley's bed.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," she spat. Her displeasure was evident. "That impertinent little pup!"

"I thought you liked the Colonel, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said, sitting next to her.

"I only tolerate him for Mr. Darcy's sake. I detest the man! Always about Mr. Darcy's heels, chattering nonsense. The man is a complete fool!" Mr. Bingley laughed at this depiction of the Colonel, knowing that its primary motivation was his sister's frustration at being denied an evening in Mr. Darcy's company.

"Caroline, the man is a colonel in His Majesty's army. He would hardly have achieved that rank if he was a fool!"

"And if he were not the son of an earl, I daresay he would only be fit to carry the boots of a Colonel. The man thinks he is God's gift to womanhood in his regimentals!" Caroline declared.

"Well, the 'pup' will be here shortly," Mr. Bingley said, laughing. "You had better go and get ready." Miss Bingley slowly rose and dejectedly quitted the room. Mr. Bingley chuckled at her and went downstairs to await his host. When the Darcy carriage arrived, Mr. Bingley sent word up to his sister. Miss Bingley immediately came down and begged to be excused, complaining of a sudden headache. Mr. Bingley wasn't surprised by her defection. He was, however, surprised when he entered the carriage to see both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy awaiting him.

"Darcy! I thought you were staying in bed this evening," Mr. Bingley exclaimed.

"I had a change of heart. Fitzwilliam, here, has convinced me that unless my head is gushing blood I may as well go about my regular business," Mr. Darcy replied with a smirk. The Colonel winked at Mr. Bingley. They had each surmised the real reason for Mr. Darcy's decision to come out this evening.

"Speaking of blood," quipped the Colonel, "Where is Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy was a bit taken aback by the remark and suppressed a smile, but Bingley was amused and let it show.

"I am afraid my sister developed a severe headache, no doubt in empathy with yours, Darcy." The three men enjoyed a laugh as the carriage pulled off.

"Livy?" Olivia was startled out of her reverie by the sound of Elizabeth's voice. "You seem to be a million miles away."

"I am sorry. I was just thinking about...I am sorry we teased you this afternoon," Olivia answered simply.

"Oh, you are, are you? You and your Colonel Fitzwilliam are up to something, and I would like to know what," she said archly.

"The Colonel and I are not up to anything. And he is not my Colonel," she said in a low and dejected voice. Elizabeth got up and slid into the seat next to her friend.

"What happened? Did you argue after I left?"

"I tried to enlist his aid...with Jane and Mr. Bingley, I mean," she whispered. "But he refused to get involved." Elizabeth was certain that there was more to the story than she was telling, but she didn't press for more.

"Mr. Bingley and Jane no longer need our help, I think," she whispered back. "I never did tell you what happened last night, did I?" she said, but thought better of revealing anything more in their present company. When the party arrived at the theatre, Olivia took the earliest opportunity to draw Elizabeth away from the others.

"Tell me!" she begged.

"I met Mr. Bingley in the park, after all," Elizabeth began. "Actually, he found me wandering about in search of you. He escorted me back to his home and we had tea. After we chatted a while, I was able to persuade him to escort me back to Gracechurch Street." Elizabeth smiled at the memory of Jane's first glimpse of Mr. Bingley.

"And?" Olivia pleaded, squeezing Elizabeth's arm.

"And he and Jane had a very pleasant reunion. At least I think they did. I was too distraught about you to notice." Elizabeth led Olivia back to her father and Jane and followed them up the grand staircase.

"And I was so miserable about you and Mr. Darcy that I could not--."

"There is no 'me and Mr. Darcy,' Livy," Elizabeth retorted. "In spite of what the Colonel may think, Mr. Darcy and I have never been friends and we probably never will be." Olivia felt Elizabeth stiffen slightly as she spoke. When Mr. Crenshaw stopped to speak with some old friends, Elizabeth pulled away from Olivia's arm and turned to enjoy the view from the balcony.

"Do not go disappearing on me this evening," she heard Olivia whisper behind her back.

The Darcy carriage pulled up outside the theatre only moments after the Crenshaw party's arrival. The three men ascended the stairs to the ornately decorated lobby and were immediately engaged in conversation with several of their London acquaintances. Mr. Darcy's eyes swept the room as he let Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley do all of the talking. He spotted Elizabeth Bennet standing alone not twenty feet away.

Elizabeth had wandered a small distance away from her friends to better survey the scene. She loved going to the theatre and was as entertained by the crowds in the lobby as she was by the actors on the stage. She glanced back at Jane, who seemed to be looking out for Mr. Bingley, and sighed. Elizabeth wished she had never let Olivia talk her into going to that park. If she hadn't seen Mr. Darcy she wouldn't have run off, she would not have met Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy would not have gotten hurt...and Jane would not be looking so radiant and happy. Maybe it was for the best. No matter, there was no way to undo things now.

"Miss Brown, I presume," said a voice behind Elizabeth. Although he apparently wasn't addressing her, the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. She turned and confirmed that it was indeed Mr. Darcy who had spoken.

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I should not have expected to see you here this evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam--," and here she blushed as the Colonel joined Mr. Darcy, "Told me of your accident yesterday. Should you not be in your bed, sir?" Mr. Darcy shot a quick glance at his cousin, who smiled benignly, before he answered.

"I thank you for your concern, madam, but I assure you I am well enough for an evening of Shakespeare." Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows. "You have met Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, blushing even more. Mr. Darcy wondered why. "We met this morning at Miss Crenshaw's house."

"Of course. Miss Crenshaw and 'Miss Brown' are dear friends," Mr. Darcy replied, invoking once again the name he now knew to be the invention of Miss Crenshaw. Why, he wondered, did she lie about Miss Bennet's identity? Elizabeth peered into each of Mr. Darcy's eyes. He enjoyed the examination, a smile playing about his lips.

"Are you sure you should be out of bed, Mr. Darcy? That is the second time you have called me 'Miss Brown.' I'm afraid his memory may be affected, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth spoke out of genuine concern, but the Colonel could not resist the opportunity to tease his cousin.

"Darcy?" the Colonel said in a parental tone. "This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said, emphasizing the last name. He was rewarded with an imperious glare from his cousin.

"I am well aware of whom I am addressing, Fitzwilliam," he growled.

"Mr. Darcy!" Olivia Crenshaw, Mr. Crenshaw, Jane Bennet, and Mr. Bingley now enlarged the group. "Mr. Darcy," Olivia said, extending a hand, "I am very glad to see you so well recovered. You gave us all a scare yesterday."

"Thank you, Miss Crenshaw," Mr. Darcy replied, shaking hands with Mr. Crenshaw and bowing to Jane Bennet in turn. He shot a glance at Mr. Bingley, who calmly returned his gaze. "I was just on the point of telling 'Miss Brown' how relieved I am to see that she is none the worse for her adventure yesterday," he said with a knowing smirk.

Miss Crenshaw dropped her head and blushed and the Colonel suppressed a laugh, but Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and said to no one in particular, "Why does this man insist on calling me Miss 'Brown'? Olivia gave Elizabeth a guilty look. Elizabeth immediately closed her mouth, her confusion evident. Mr. Crenshaw suggested that his party make its way to the Crenshaw box. Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, then took Mr. Crenshaw's offered arm. Mr. Bingley offered to escort Jane, leaving Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam to themselves.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Colonel Fitzwilliam began to laugh out loud. "And what is so funny?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"You, cousin! Poor Miss Crenshaw. Poor Miss Bennet!" The Colonel looked back at the two ladies walking on the arms of Mr. Crenshaw. "I wish I could be there to hear her explanation," he managed to say before Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm and led him away.

"Explain yourself, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy demanded as soon as they had entered the Darcy box. The Colonel sobered and sat down beside his cousin.

"I am sorry, Darcy, but you were making such a fool of yourself just now, calling Miss Bennet by a strange name. She had no idea what you were talking about." The Colonel was momentarily silenced by iciness of the Darcy glare. "I do not know why Miss Crenshaw decided to call her friend 'Miss Brown' but I am certain that Miss Bennet knew nothing of it. She probably thinks you should be in Bedlam!" he said before he began to laugh again. But Mr. Darcy was no longer interested in what the Colonel was saying. Elizabeth Bennet was sitting directly opposite him, her eyes down as she listened to something Miss Crenshaw was saying. She suddenly looked up and blushed as her eyes met Mr. Darcy's. He expected her to divert her gaze immediately, but instead she held his gaze and it was Mr. Darcy who felt compelled to look away.

So now I have become the object of her pity. He ran his fingers through his hair as he turned his eyes to the stage. He squirmed in his seat throughout the first act, occasionally stealing a glance at Elizabeth. Each time he looked in her direction, she seemed to be looking at him. She never looked away; on each occasion, it was Mr. Darcy who was discomfited. As soon as the first act was over, Mr. Darcy rose and declared his intention to return home.

Caroline Bingley was no one's fool. She was not about to spend an evening in the company of her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam, not while Mr. Darcy lay injured in his bed. She would go to him, in spite of her brother's admonition against it. She had no doubt that she would not be admitted into his company; propriety forbade it, and the man was ill, after all. But she would go in person and leave her card and perhaps a brief note. She would show Mr. Darcy how concerned she was for his welfare. Miss Bingley changed out of her evening attire into a more appropriate gown for visiting the sick. As the carriage made its way to Mr. Darcy's townhouse, Miss Bingley tried to compose a suitable message to leave for Mr. Darcy. Moments later, she alit from the carriage with a smug expression on her face and mounted the steps. Mr. Harris met her at the door with a surprised expression.

"Miss Bingley!" he said, "I thought you would be at the theatre with Mr. Darcy."

"What? Mr. Darcy went to the theatre! But I was told that he was very ill and had to keep to his bed," Miss Bingley cried, eyes darting about suspiciously.

"The master apparently rallied himself for this evening's theatre party, madam," Mr. Harris droned sarcastically. Miss Bingley glared at him, but Mr. Harris was unperturbed. Feeling foolish and ill-used by her brother, Miss Bingley stormed out of the house. In the carriage once more, she let loose her fury.

"I will wager that Mr. Darcy is not ill at all. This is just some ruse of my brother's to get rid of me. Well, I shall have the last laugh," she shouted, and rapped on the roof of the carriage to get the coachman's attention.

Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself torn between his duty to his cousin and his desire to make amends with Miss Crenshaw. He had stared at her through the entire first act and she had returned his smile on one occasion when she had caught him in the act. He had been looking forward to the intermission, when he would attempt to speak with her. Now Mr. Darcy wanted to go home, and the Colonel knew that he must accompany him.

"What about Bingley?" the Colonel asked, as Mr. Darcy led the way out of the box.

"He looks as though he will have no trouble finding a ride home," Mr. Darcy intoned. The thought of Mr. Bingley enjoying himself in Jane Bennet's company only added to his foul mood. He wanted no more than to see his own bed and sorely regretted having been talked into leaving the house.

"But you have invited him to dinner," the Colonel reasoned. "Look, he is coming back," he said, and Mr. Darcy turned and saw Mr. Bingley approaching, with Jane and Elizabeth Bennet in tow. Mr. Darcy wanted to turn away and leave but curiosity affixed him to the spot. Elizabeth detached herself from Mr. Bingley's arm and addressed Mr. Darcy.

"I...I owe you an apology, sir. Miss Crenshaw explained why you kept referring to me as 'Miss Brown.'" She blushed slightly as she spoke, and Mr. Darcy saw something of the familiar sparkle in her eyes. Mr. Darcy smiled, and Elizabeth fought against the tiny tug at her heartstrings. The Colonel quietly slipped away and went to the Crenshaw's box.

"I am the one who should apologize, Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam here," he said looking around for his absent cousin, "Rightly pointed out that I made quite a fool of myself."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I am very glad to find out that your head wound was not as severe as I feared," she said with a laugh. Mr. Darcy stared at her, marveling at the circumstances that had brought her back into his company. As they were obviously being ignored, Mr. Bingley and Jane wandered away.

"I should dearly like to know why Miss Crenshaw thought it necessary to keep your identity a secret, Miss Bennet."

"I am afraid you'll have to apply to Miss Crenshaw for the answer to that question, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said boldly.

"You will not tell me, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth simply smiled her defiance. "Well, suppose we ask her together," he said and offered his arm. A surprised Elizabeth took his arm and thought that an interview with Mr. Darcy was apt revenge for her interrogation by Olivia and the Colonel.

Jane and Mr. Bingley watched this interchange from a short distance away. "I think Miss Elizabeth's company does much for Darcy's headache," smiled Mr. Bingley.

"Yes. I think his company does her some good, too, though she would never admit it," Jane commented. Mr. Bingley looked at her with surprise.

"Really! Better and better."

Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed to attract Miss Crenshaw's attention before he entered the Crenshaw's box. Olivia was sitting alone, deep in thought. She turned at the sound of the cough and stood as the Colonel entered.

"Good evening, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel said a bit nervously.

"Colonel," she replied uneasily. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Just as the Colonel was about to speak, Mr. Crenshaw returned. He immediately asked the Colonel to join them and launched into a conversation about his son Edward, who had quickly distinguished himself in Colonel Fitzwilliam's regiment. Olivia looked on helplessly as the Colonel was drawn into the conversation. A few moments later the three were joined by Mr. Darcy, who had escorted Elizabeth back to the box. Mr. Darcy was quite curious to hear Miss Crenshaw's explanation however Mr. Crenshaw's garrulous nature precluded the possibility of any such conversation. By the time Mr. Bingley and Jane returned to the box, it was nearly time for the second act to begin. Mr. Darcy, the Colonel, and Mr. Bingley left reluctantly, but not before Mr. Darcy extended an invitation to everyone for dinner a few evenings hence. Mr. Crenshaw immediately accepted for Olivia and himself, and Jane was eager to accept the invitation, but Elizabeth was forced to decline.

"I am afraid I am to leave London tomorrow morning to visit friends in the country," she said with a tinge of regret. Mr. Darcy had aroused her curiosity, if not her sympathy, and she would have liked the opportunity to see him in his own environment and among people he considered his equal in society. Mr. Darcy was crestfallen at the news, although he did his best not to show it. He bowed and left the box behind the others.

"Well, Darcy, do we return to our box or do we go home?" asked the Colonel.

"It does not much matter," murmured the dejected man, but he returned to his seat in the box. As the curtain was raised for the beginning of the second act, Caroline Bingley swept into the box, a flurry of silk and feathers. The men, each of whom was consumed by his own thoughts, perfunctorily acknowledged her. Miss Bingley naturally took a seat by Mr. Darcy and proceeded to explain about how her headache had suddenly come on and then just as swiftly abated. He didn't hear a single word she spoke, nor did the other men.

Charles Bingley's eyes were locked with Jane Bennet's; Colonel Fitzwilliam pretended to watch the play but his mind was also upon an occupant of the Crenshaw box. Miss Bingley followed her brother's line of vision and was shocked by what she saw across the hall. She elbowed Mr. Darcy to inform him of her brother's danger, but he didn't respond. Miss Bingley turned to speak to Mr. Darcy and found that he, too, was focused on the same spot and was satisfied. She would speak to Mr. Darcy at the first opportunity and the two of them would figure out a way to keep Jane from entrapping her vulnerable brother. If Miss Bingley had looked more closely at the Crenshaw box she would have known that Mr. Darcy's eyes weren't on Jane Bennet, but her sister, who sat behind her. Miss Bingley sat back and enjoyed the play, not realizing that Mr. Darcy did not take his eyes off of Elizabeth for the rest of the performance.

Part 4

When the play ended, Mr. Darcy didn't tarry. He immediately quitted his box and hastened to the theatre entrance to await his carriage. A breathless Caroline Bingley and two slightly disappointed men followed him. Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam had to console themselves with the knowledge that they'd see their respective ladies again in a few days. Mr. Darcy, however, was convinced that he'd never see Elizabeth again, and wasn't sure he would alter that if he could. Miss Bingley grasped Mr. Darcy's arm to keep up with him, not insensible of the sensation she might create at being seen on the arm of one of England's most eligible bachelors. When Mr. Darcy finally came to a halt Miss Bingley spoke into his ear.

"We must speak privately, Mr. Darcy," she whispered. He turned his head to look at her, shocked by the boldness of her address. "We must do something about Charles."

"'We,' Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy replied, looking down the lane for his carriage. He was in no mood for Miss Bingley's tedious company this evening.

"Surely you noted his behavior tonight. If we do not act quickly, He is likely to fall into Jane Bennet's clutches again. Look at him even now," she warmed to her topic, gesturing to where Mr. Bingley stood talking with Jane Bennet as the others in her party entered the carriage. Mr. Darcy turned and looked where Miss Bingley had pointed. "We must do something, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps if you were to speak with him again...." Mr. Darcy had stopped listening as soon as he spotted Mr. Bingley and strode off in his direction. Miss Bingley crossed her arms and smiled. "Good, Mr. Darcy. Keep Charles away from Miss Bennet, and while you're at it, you stay away from that impertinent sister of hers yourself." Behind her, Colonel Fitzwilliam did a slow burn.

"And why should your brother and my cousin want to avoid the Miss Bennets, Miss Bingley?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam! I did not see you lurking there!" Miss Bingley sputtered, startled by both the unexpected question and the anger in his tone. She pretended not to understand his question and quickly turned to speak with an acquaintance. The Colonel let Miss Bingley escape, beginning to understand why Miss Crenshaw and Miss Bennet had felt it necessary to intervene on behalf of Miss Bingley's besotted brother. Mr. Darcy had not gone to the carriage to retrieve Mr. Bingley. He would do that, yes, but he was compelled by a sudden urge to see Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps for the last time. Arriving at Mr. Bingley's side, he wished a good evening to the party in the carriage, and repeated his hope for seeing everyone except Elizabeth at his home next week. To her he wished a safe journey.

"Have a pleasant trip, Miss Bennet. I hope you enjoy your stay in the country."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, meeting his eyes, and Mr. Darcy returned her smile. Had she met him in London, Elizabeth thought to herself, her opinion of him would be markedly different than that of the Fitzwilliam Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley bade the party adieu and made their way back to Miss Bingley and the Colonel. They repaired to the Darcy townhouse for a quiet dinner, but in deference to Mr. Darcy's professed fatigue, the evening ended rather earlier than usual.

On the way back to Gracechurch Street, Olivia and Elizabeth could only smile as they looked at Jane. She seemed pensive, but happy. Elizabeth leaned forward and whispered into Olivia's ear. "Perhaps it was all worth it, Livy. I just hope that Mr. Darcy and Bingley's sisters do not do anything to ruin it."

"Have no fear, Lizzy. I intend to see to it that they do not," Olivia said firmly.

"And how do you intend to do that?" Elizabeth asked as the carriage jostled her about. Jane, who had been watching the two ladies engaged in an animated discussion, could no longer contain her curiosity after she overheard her sister's remark.

"Do what?" she asked.

"I intend to see to it that Lizzy marries Mr. Darcy," Olivia boldly declared. Elizabeth gasped, as Jane and Olivia burst into a fit of giggles, Elizabeth forced herself to join in the laughter.

"I think that is a very good idea, Livy," stated Jane. "I know that Mr. Darcy admires her. He certainly stared at her through the entire second act."

"How do you know, Jane?" said Olivia. "You were too busy staring at Mr. Bingley." This led to more giggles between Jane and Olivia. Lizzy did not join them, however, being so wholly shocked by Jane's statement. She hadn't dared to look at Mr. Darcy after their meeting at intermission, and had specifically sat in the second row of the box to avoid the temptation.

"I thought Mr. Darcy was staring at Livy," retorted Elizabeth, trying to conceal her discomfort.

"Oh, no, Lizzy. Colonel Fitzwilliam was staring at Livy!" Jane asserted.

"It is a good thing I was there tonight otherwise no one in either party, it seems, would have seen anything of the play at all," Mr. Crenshaw interjected, effectively silencing the ladies. A short time later after heartfelt thanks and good-byes, Elizabeth and Jane sat in their room preparing for bed.

"I will miss you, Lizzy," said Jane.

"Well, you are welcome to join us and visit our cousin, Mr. Collins," Elizabeth teased, and Jane shuddered at the thought.

"Perhaps I will be able to bear the separation if you agree to write me every week," Jane suggested as an alternative.

"Or perhaps you could find something else to distract you?" Elizabeth said as she twisted the end of her long braid. She had already cautioned Jane twice about Mr. Bingley and his treacherous sisters and didn't want to bring up the matter again. But she could not help worrying.

"Dearest Lizzy, I will take care," Jane repeated, hugging Elizabeth to her heart. Elizabeth recited those words to herself over and over again till she fell asleep that night, and left London the following morning hoping rather than knowing that Jane had spoken the truth.

The following week, Miss Bingley was shocked to find that Mr. Darcy had not only invited her brother and herself to dinner but Jane Bennet as well, accompanied by Mr. Crenshaw and his daughter. Miss Bingley was quite put out, even after Mr. Bingley explained to her that the dinner invitation had originally been extended to the Crenshaws and Miss Bennet and that he and Miss Bingley were later additions to the party. She would not accept the notion that Mr. Darcy would actually invite a Bennet into his own house. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least Eliza Bennet was not part of the party.

Mr. Darcy, his concussion now a distant memory, didn't bat an eyelash when Mr. Bingley took a seat at the dinner table next to Jane, but Miss Bingley was visibly upset. Mr. Crenshaw was given the place of honor at the table, and Miss Crenshaw was at Mr. Darcy's other side. Miss Bingley did not deign to perceive Miss Crenshaw as a threat, but she fumed at being separated from her dearest object and took out her frustration on her nearest neighbor, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He, on the other hand, was oblivious to her rudeness. The Colonel had spoken to Miss Crenshaw, not to any more significant purpose than to exchange greetings, but her reception had been more than civil. It was balm to his bruised heart and he was in too good a mood to let Miss Bingley spoil it. The Colonel repeatedly attempted to engage Miss Bingley in conversation, which she either responded to tersely or not at all, to the secret amusement of Mr. Darcy and Miss Crenshaw.

Mr. Darcy enjoyed his dinner conversation with the Crenshaws, and although he could still not condone his friend's budding romance with Jane Bennet, he was able to appreciate the dramatic improvement in Mr. Bingley's spirits. Mr. Darcy observed Miss Bennet carefully, looking for traces of the younger sister in her manners. Miss Bingley caught him staring and took it as a sign of Mr. Darcy's disapproval. A smug smile suffused her features and she was sufficiently mollified as to answer one of the Colonel's questions with a complete sentence.

When dinner was over, the ladies retired to the music room, while the four men remained behind for cigars and port. Miss Bingley led the way down the hall with a proprietary air, pointing out minute and intimate details about the portraits on the walls and relating the history of some object or another. She clearly meant to convince her companions of her intimacy with Mr. Darcy, but neither Olivia nor Jane was terribly impressed. Upon entering the drawing room, Miss Bingley remarked that she would change the décor of the room at her earliest opportunity.

"I do despise pale blue, you know. It's so juvenile," she said, cognizant of the fact that both Jane and Olivia were dressed in that shade. "I would do something far more dramatic in here, perhaps in red, with dark mahogany furniture-"

"I should think that Miss Darcy should prefer the room to stay as it is, Miss Bingley. After all, I believe that Mr. Darcy recently had this room especially redone according to her taste." Olivia's smile was innocence itself, as she watched Miss Bingley's artificial smile freeze.

"Have you met Miss Darcy, Jane?" Olivia asked.

"I have not had that pleasure," Jane replied, taking a seat near the fire.

"Oh, Miss Darcy is a lovely girl," Miss Bingley chimed in. "You would adore her. So pretty, so charming. She's quite a favorite of Charles' you know. And, unless I am mistaken, she is excessively fond of him as well. I have high hopes of--but I speak prematurely," cooed Miss Bingley, taking a seat opposite Jane to observe the effect of her words. Jane had gone pale, but she held her head high and refused to give Miss Bingley the satisfaction of a greater display.

So that's to be your game, is it, Miss Bingley? Olivia had never met Caroline Bingley before, although she had seen her numerous times at various gatherings. She certainly knew of her; Olivia had spent that very morning gathering intelligence from a mutual acquaintance and had learned of Miss Bingley's ambitious plans to ensnare Mr. Darcy. Olivia had been instantly disposed to dislike the woman from the moment Miss Bingley had looked down her arrogant little nose and condescendingly greeted her upon her arrival. She was not about to let Miss Bingley ruin Jane's evening. An appropriate retort was forming in Olivia's mind when the door opened and the men entered the room, led by Mr. Darcy. Olivia immediately shifted her strategy.

"Jane, have you heard from Lizzy?" she asked as soon as Mr. Darcy was within her hearing.

"Oh, yes, Livy. I received a letter from her just this morning. She sends her love," Jane said, "And asked me to tell you that you should be receiving your own letter shortly."

"I trust, then, that she had a pleasant journey?" Mr. Darcy said, coming to stand near Jane's chair. Miss Bingley's senses were aroused; why should Mr. Darcy be asking about Eliza Bennet?

"Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy wrote that she had a lovely trip into the country and she seems to be enjoying her stay with our cousin," Jane replied. Mr. Bingley drew near to Jane and she ducked her head to avoid his eyes. Olivia noticed the movement, and her resentment of Miss Bingley increased.

"It is a pity she could not spend more time in London," Mr. Darcy said. "But then, as you said, she is enjoying herself among her relations." Olivia rejoiced inwardly. Good, show, Mr. Darcy! Banish that smug smile from Miss Bingley's face. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam significantly, but the Colonel was observing Miss Bingley, his expression unreadable.

"Oh! Was Miss Eliza Bennet in town?" asked Miss Bingley. "How delightful it must have been for you to see her again, Jane, dear. Was she in town long?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Mr. Darcy.

"She was here but three days. She only stopped in town to visit with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner before going on to--"

"Oh, but it is such a shame that you had so little time with her here. Dear Eliza! I am sure she would have loved to have had time to go to all the shops, to attend balls, go to the theatre--all the little things a girl cannot do in the country."

You are all kindness, madam, Olivia glowered and crossed her arms. Across the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam could see the sour expression on Olivia's face. He furrowed his brows and drew closer to the conversation. Mr. Bingley left Jane and went to join Mr. Crenshaw at the table where a servant was pouring coffee. Jane looked after him, and with a pang of longing, lowered her head once more.

"It is a pity I did not get a chance to see her. It has been an age since we have seen each other," Miss Bingley continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you saw her, Mr. Darcy. I know that must have been a treat for you, being such an admirer of her fine eyes." Mr. Darcy walked away from Jane and went to get a cup of coffee cup from the table just behind the settee where Miss Bingley sat. He wasn't about to make himself an easy target for Miss Bingley.

"Oh, but you must have seen her as well, Miss Bingley," the Colonel offered, beginning to understand Olivia's anger. "She was at the theatre last week when we saw 'Twelfth Night.'" Miss Bingley's mouth fell open.

"Miss Eliza Bennet was at the theatre? You did not tell me, Mr. Darcy!" she purred, twisting around in an effort to catch his eye. But it was the Colonel who delivered the coup de grace.

"I should not have thought it necessary to inform you, Miss Bingley. She was sitting directly opposite you the whole evening." Miss Bingley glanced at Mr. Darcy and instantly understood the Colonel's meaning. She blanched, and fell silent for the remainder of the evening. As soon as it was possible to do so, Olivia went to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her smile told him that he was back in her good graces.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I could kiss you," she whispered. His eyebrows shot up and he didn't trust himself to speak. She laughed at his sheepish expression and explained. "You silenced Miss Bingley better than I ever could have done." She quickly retreated, leaving the confused Colonel to wonder if it would be proper to claim his reward.

The Crenshaws, along with Jane, were the first to leave, and Mr. Darcy saw his guests to the door. When he returned to the drawing room, he found Miss Bingley waiting for him just outside the door. She hissed with exasperation, "Is this how you plan to keep my brother from losing his head over that girl? You invite her into your house?"

"Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy replied tightly, "I could no more stop your brother from 'losing his head' over a girl than you could stop me." Miss Bingley paled, and a knot formed in her stomach. "I am not pleased with this development, but I am in no position to do anything about it. I will be leaving town at the end of the week. You'll have to deal with the matter by yourself," Mr. Darcy said as he strode into the room.

Over breakfast the next morning, Mr. Darcy informed the Colonel that they would leave for their annual visit to Rosings Park at the end of the week as they had originally planned.

"Are you sure you would not rather rest in town a little longer, Darcy? You know Aunt Catherine's company is the antithesis of what your head needs right now!" Colonel Fitzwilliam argued. "I do not mind spending a bit more of my leave in town, if you wish it."

"Is Caroline Bingley's company a better restorative?" his cousin quipped back. Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged his shoulders. Mr. Darcy had a point, but his decision to leave at the end of the week would come at the Colonel's expense. He would only be able to call on Miss Crenshaw to take his leave and it would be some time before he'd have the opportunity to see her again. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was anxious to put London--and its bittersweet memories--behind him. Yes, the ignominious ramblings of his dowager aunt would provide just the diversion he needed.

Elizabeth sat at her writing desk six weeks later and wondered what, if anything she should tell Olivia about Mr. Darcy. To say nothing was unthinkable, really; Olivia always had a way of finding out things eventually and Elizabeth would rather reveal this particular matter on her own terms. Besides, Elizabeth needed to confide in someone, and could only tell Jane just so much about her dealings with Mr. Darcy. Jane had chosen to remain in London a while longer instead of returning with Elizabeth to Hertfordshire. It was obvious to Elizabeth that Mr. Bingley was the reason. Things seemed to be going well between them, but after nearly two months of courtship Mr. Bingley seemed no closer to a proposal of marriage than when Elizabeth left for Hunsford.

"What is he waiting for?" Elizabeth said to herself. "Mr. Darcy is back in town and I am sure he will do anything in his power to prevent Mr. Bingley from proposing to Jane. Especially now..."

At that precise moment, at his home in London, Mr. Bingley assembled a meeting with his sister and best friend. The news he was about to impart to his sister and friend would have erased all of Elizabeth's concern. Mr. Darcy--who had recently returned to London from his visit to Rosings Park, and was stopping in town only briefly--entered Mr. Bingley's home in answer to an unexpected invitation.

"Caroline, Darcy, sit down," Mr. Bingley said. "I have something I want to tell you both." He stood with his back to an imposing mantle piece looking slightly nervous but determined. Mr. Darcy looked at him curiously, then took a seat. Miss Bingley stood her ground.

"What is this about, Charles?" she demanded.

"Sit down and I will tell you," he commanded. Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy exchanged glances as she obeyed. Mr. Bingley cleared his throat.

"You may as well be the first to know...I have asked Jane Bennet for her hand in marriage and she has done me the honor of accepting me." Mr. Bingley squared his shoulders and prepared for the inevitable onslaught. But it did not come as he had expected. His announcement was met with silence. Mr. Darcy blinked, looked down at his boots, and said nothing. Miss Bingley, who had relied on Mr. Darcy to speak on her behalf, was left to confront her brother alone.

"Charles!" she cried. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am," was his firm reply.

"Mr. Darcy, say something! You cannot, you must not allow my brother to throw himself away on that insignificant chit of a --."

"Caroline, I am going to marry Jane Bennet and there's an end of it. If you do not approve of my choice of a marriage partner, I would be more than happy to send you to your sister in Lisbon!" Mr. Bingley spoke calmly but his eyes were aflame. His sister's mouth fell open. She turned to Mr. Darcy once more, but to her amazement, he rose and extended his hand in congratulations.

"I wish both you and Miss Bennet every happiness, Charles," he said simply. "I am rather pleased to find that I was mistaken in my belief that Miss Bennet did not return your affections. It was an arrogant presumption on my part and I heartily apologize for the pain and suffering my unwanted interference must have caused you both." Miss Bingley was shocked by this speech, as was Mr. Bingley, but he graciously accepted both the admission and the apology and wasted no time in asking Mr. Darcy to stand up with him at the altar.

"If you would still have me after what I have done to you both, I would be honored." Mr. Darcy felt unequal to the protestations he knew his friend would make, and so he turned to leave, saying, "Just let me know the date and I will be at your side. You may contact me at Pemberley. I leave later this morning." With that, he bid his friends goodbye and left, a tumult of emotions beating in his heart.

That much I could do for her, Mr. Darcy thought hours later as he sat at his father's massive desk in Pemberley's study. It was well past midnight, and Mr. Darcy, still plagued by the demons that had driven him from Kent, was unable to sleep. Elizabeth had refused his love and rightfully so. He had lost her forever and with it every chance of happiness. Mr. Darcy resigned himself to his fate. I have admitted my guilt in wrongfully separating Bingley and Jane Bennet, and have given their marriage my blessing. At least she will see her beloved sister happy...I pray that one day my Elizabeth... and here Mr. Darcy's eyes clouded over and he was forced to swallow the lump rising in his throat, "...That she will find someone with whom she can be equally happy. It is no more than she deserves. I am unworthy of her. As the words formed in his mind, tears began to flow. He lowered his head to the desk and sobbed pathetically.

Continued In Next Section