Part I

Posted On Tuesday, 6 May 2003

Mr. Bennet walked into the breakfast room looking ready for travel to the great surprise of his wife and two daughters. "Well my dears, I will be off now," he said in his usual understated tone.

"Off?" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Why whatever do you mean? Off to where?"

"Pemberley."

"Pemberley? Now I am all confusion. For I do not believe our dear Mrs. Darcy has said anything about a visit in her latest letters, and I don't suppose she would have you and not her sisters or her mother as well, although you two were always so particular with one another. But now she is Mrs. Darcy better to send one of the girls, perhaps Kitty, so that she might meet some eligible young men of fortune too."

"Kitty will not go anywhere until she proves she has learned some sense. Furthermore, I said nothing about an invitation my dear."

"What? Am I to understand that you plan to simply drop in on our dear Mr. Darcy without a proper invitation?"

"Yes. I do not believe my Lizzy would be too put out, nor that her husband would be either. He quite recommended to me a visit to Pemberley when they were but married. I believe he wishes to show me the library."

"The library? Mr. Bennet, you can hardly expect that Mr. Darcy wishes you to visit now. They are still so newly married."

"Why such strange consideration on your part I do not comprehend Mrs. Bennet. They have been married these five months nearly and have had quite enough time to accustom themselves to the notion."

"But Mr. Darcy is a man of ten thousand pounds a year, and so right and proper in all he does. He cannot look well upon such unannounced callers. Why people of his station are very particular. My dear girls, your sister has made such a match that we must be sure she keeps him and therefore we must be all that is condescending. We would not want him to repine his choice and send her back to Longbourn, for I don't imagine she is any less impertinent now. She should watch her tongue, at least until she produces an heir."

"I do not believe that I have ever heard you utter such nonsense Mrs. Bennet, and that is saying a good deal. She is my daughter, and if her husband were worth twice ten thousand pounds a year, he is still just her husband, and so I will visit when I see fit."

"Twice ten thousand pounds a year. Ha. You speak of nonsense, and is that not nonsense; for not many are worth even what our dear Mr. Darcy. Oh, what a fine match she has made. How rich she is. But I do still find it so surprising, Jane being so much prettier then Mrs. Darcy. But then, fine men can be so capricious. To think, three daughters married."

"Mrs. Bennet, I have had enough of this silliness. I am off to visit my daughter and that is the last word I wish to hear on the subject. I shall send word from Pemberley."

And indeed, that was the last word, as Mr. Bennet immediately departed from his family and entered the carriage on route north, laughing all the while. "If she only knew his real worth, why she would have palpitations of nerves to last quite the rest of her lifetime."

Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly-her conversation, her sense and her musical laughter. He was ever so eager to see her ensconced in her new home, but mostly he simply wished for her company. He could not deny to himself, however, that he was filled almost as much with a great curiosity to see the man himself in his own environs-at Pemberley-for he firmly held that this was the key to a final understanding of the man.

Mr. Darcy had proved a very difficult riddle for Mr. Bennet to solve. An enthusiast of human folly, he had always found it rather simple to disregard Darcy as nothing more then a rich, arrogant and unpleasant man well above the country company in which he found himself as a result of his friendship with the congenial Charles Bingley. He had never thought much upon the nature of such an odd pairing--for steady friends they most evidently were, if as different as two men could be--because the friendships and connections of people so wholly unconnected to himself proved to Mr. Bennet as interesting to contemplate as the latest fashions in lace and bonnets. But Mr. Bennet found he was forced to no longer disregard the man when he so very unexpectedly found Darcy in his library standing in front of him and asking for his beloved Lizzy's hand in marriage. At that moment it became an issue of the utmost importance for Mr. Bennet to understand this taciturn young man, and hopefully think well of him too. So he quickly, upon the particular request of Elizabeth as well as from his own now heated curiosity, took to trying to comprehend the man who had won Lizzy's hand, and, apparently, her very high esteem. That it had all come about at all was difficult enough to work out, but that she should love him, admire him as the "best man" she had ever known, was perplexing in the extreme.

He was resolved to understand the man, but the wish proved farther to the course. For he found that upon returning to Long borne as the accepted future husband of his dear Lizzy, Darcy was, while evidently more civil and less silent, still not at all talkative, and still determinedly unreadable. While he was everything proper, attentive and dedicated in a lover that a father could desire, he had not Bingley's visible enthusiasm. Oddly, while Mr. Bennet found Bingley's enthrall at the feet of Jane just short of too much the ridiculously besotted suitor, Mr. Bennet found he would have been comforted by more signs of Darcy's tender devotion then he witnessed. That Darcy looked at Lizzy a great deal was clear, but what the expression in his eyes meant was less so. But that Lizzy was happier by the day was undeniable.

"What is it about this man that has so won her esteem?" he would ask himself as he watched them in conversation across the sitting room.

The larger picture remained quite unresolved for Mr. Bennet, but he did have hints, hints about the man's true character and devotion, tantalizing and dramatic hints that left him curious for more. He felt sometimes as though he had been handed a large tome and given but a single brilliant passage to read, leaving wonderment at what else might lie within.

That first tantalizing hint came about at the same time as the engagement. Mr. Bennet had a mostly brief and simple conversation with Darcy-for he could not but give his consent to such a formidable man, and unlike the ebullient Bingley, Darcy offered little more then a terse statement of his tender regard for his intended bride, as though the necessity of asking for consent was quite enough. A lifetime of habits of restraint cannot be overnight reformed, after all, regardless of the depths of affections concerned. But it was precisely this reserve that left Mr. Bennet so uneasy with the intended match that he had insisted on speaking with Lizzy to be quite sure that this was her hearts desire. What he learned in that conversation-that she loved him dearly, that Darcy had proven his steadfastness of devotion and proved himself a man of honor, generous in the extreme--left him astonished. The next morning, when Darcy came to call on his now betrothed, Mr. Bennet therefore requested a private conversation with the man.

Upon entering the library the men sat down across from each other and remained in strained silence. Mr. Bennet took a few minutes to simply observe this man who was now to take first place of honor and duty in his daughter's heart and life and tried to discern what lay contained therein. But the man's face was inscrutable and gave away nothing more then a slight unease.

"Mr. Darcy, I am sure you would prefer to be spending this time with my daughter, so I will dispense with civilities."

"Thank you sir," was Darcy's succinct response. Elizabeth had had a brief opportunity that morning to inform Darcy of what she had told her father regarding the Wickham affair and so Darcy was quite prepared for this conversation.

"I understand from my conversation with Lizzy last evening that my family is greatly indebted to you." At these words Darcy fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes turned away from Mr. Bennet's face and taking a deep breath, he began to nervously play with his signet ring. If not for Lizzy's plea that he take the time to know Darcy better, if not for her contention that the man had no improper pride, Mr. Bennet would at that moment have been rather reluctant to voice his gratitude. For there was something so removed about Darcy's posture as to give a feeling of coldness, even though it was also clear that he was far from being at ease. Giving the man the benefit of Lizzy's assertions, though, he tried to put him more at ease. "I must say that I have never been so astonished in my life, excepting perhaps that half hour before when you declared your intentions of making Lizzy your wife." Seeing that Darcy was not visibly amused, Mr. Bennet got on with the point. "You must allow me to express my deepest gratitude for all that you did for my youngest daughter, and by extension my entire family."

Without looking directly into Mr. Bennet's face, but rather at a vague spot somewhere just above his head, Darcy replied in a voice that spoke of a man accustomed to the finality of his authority. "I assure you sir that gratitude is neither requested nor required. I acted as I thought I must. When I learned of the elopement, quite accidentally, from Elizabeth herself, it was clear that I had in my possession knowledge about George Wickham's ways, his true character, his connections and expectations that few others could possess. Therefore I did all in my power to rectify the situation, as any man of honor would have done. You and your family, much as I respect you, should in no way feel indebted to me. I merely acted to correct what could have been prevented had I but shared with the world more openly Wickham's dealings with my family and therefore exposed his true character."

"I will not argue the point, but I will ask that you now reveal to me all the financial dealings you had with my worthless son-in-law that I might repay you. I am sure it was no paltry sum."

Much as Mr. Bennet had predicted to Lizzy the prior evening, this was clearly not to be. Darcy now rose from his chair and walked the room a moment, before placing himself behind the chair he had been occupying. With his hands resting on the seat back his eyes finally came to rest upon Mr. Bennet's. His tone was still that of the man who will brook no opposition. "With all due respect sir, I absolutely refuse to provide you with that information if it means that you will assume an obligation. I will not accept repayment of any kind. Mrs. Wickham is Elizabeth's sister and that is sufficient in and of itself. The thing is done with and I would wish for it to be forgot as well."

"I do not imagine it can be forgot Mr. Darcy."

Darcy now began to pace the room again. "This is precisely why I had desired that my role be kept secret. This is all very awkward Mr. Bennet." Pausing for a moment, he continued, in a softer tone, speaking almost to himself. "And had Mrs. Wickham not let slip to Elizabeth that I was in attendance at her wedding it might still be secret. I would have certainly told Elizabeth of all this after we wed, I should imagine, but I had so wished her to be ignorant of my role in the entire sordid affair. At least at this juncture."

"If I may say, Mr. Darcy, that would appear to defy logic. From what you told me last evening you had already clear intentions toward my daughter, although as of the summer you had not secured her consent. So I wonder why you would keep from her an act of such kindness and generosity. It would have seemed to argue your case."

A look of something like bewilderment passed over Darcy's face, as though such a working of logic were quite unfathomable to his way of seeing the thing. "I wished to win your daughters affections, not her gratitude. While at the time that the unfortunate events occurred I had reason to believe her opinion of me greatly improved, I had still only my own wishes."

"Yes well, I suppose there is some point to that view, although only an ardent lover would see it in that manner. If your act so clearly illustrated good character, it would necessarily improve her opinion, or that of any informed person."

Darcy was here growing most visibly uncomfortable and impatient with the discussion, centering as it was on what was so dear to his heart and yet still so new and unimaginable. He had won her, at last, but it was far to early for him to feel secure in this new feeling of elation; to discuss it all as though it were no more then an exercise in logical reasoning was very trying. Impatiently he finally said, "Yes, well, I suppose we could argue the point of logic for quite some time. But, as I said, the entire affair is done with and should be left alone. It need not be discussed further. If you will be so kind as to excuse me sir, I would return to your daughter."

Mr. Bennet, fully aware that this conversation, before it had even commenced, was a formality with the conclusion forgone, merely waved his hand and nodded his assent with a gruff, "Naturally, young man. Good day then."

He watched as Darcy's long strides took him quickly to the library door, and was surprised when Darcy stopped at the door, turned back into the room and began to speak in a voice that Mr. Bennet found completely unrecognizable, so infused with tenderness was it.

"Mr. Bennet, any one who has observed you and Elizabeth appreciates that you hold one another in very special regard. I imagine it must be difficult for you to see your daughter taken so far from Longbourn and as the wife of a man who's character you have had cause in the past to question. If you must think on this business with Wickham, may I offer that you think of it as some small comfort in that from it you can be secure in the knowledge that I will unfailingly do all that is in my power to ensure Elizabeth's happiness and peace of mind. Good day sir."

Bowing very formally, he then quit the room, leaving Mr. Bennet with much to ponder upon.

Now, some few months later, as the carriage headed north, he found himself still pondering the man. His book lay unattended in his lap while he vaguely observed the passing countryside. But his thoughts were bouncing back and forth from Longbourn to Pemberley. It was clear from her letters that Elizabeth was happy and content-she spoke nothing but goodness of her husband and her new sister, and wrote easily and with good humor of those things that required some learning or adjustment. That she was happy most particularly with her husband was clear. Yet Mr. Bennet still felt that he only dimly understood the man, and even less the attachment between them-it had been, after all, a most extraordinary match for his girl. That the man had braved some consequential disapprobation for the match was sure, and that all he wanted in return for all he gave was her sincere love seemed somehow too romantic a notion for Mr. Bennet to grasp. That Darcy-a man who seemed right through to the day of their wedding such a taciturn, quiet man-had won the sincere love of his lively and witty daughter seemed just as far from his grasp. He longed for this understanding as he had never desired to know or understand anything else.

That he trusted his dear Lizzy's judgment and discernment had allowed him to be accepting of the match, even pleased for her sake, but for his own he wanted to know well the man to whom he had entrusted his most beloved daughter. That Darcy was a good man, a man of duty and honor who would always do right by his wife was soon evident as he became more acquainted with the man, as was Darcy's intelligence, but still, something lacked that gave the adoring father a slight unease. In the privacy of his thoughts he could admit that he wanted more for this daughter then just comforts and duty, he wanted all that a man was never to expect for his daughter, particularly a dowerless daughter: he wanted her to be respected and cherished as dearly as he did, cherished above all else.

He began observing them discreetly, looking as if for some great sign of their understanding and devotion. And perhaps it was unfair to his reserved son-in-law that he had the constant foil of the ebullient Bingley, always quick with a sincere smile and always lavishing his bride with unmistakable devotion in looks and manner and address. In truth, Mr. Bennet concluded as he thought back to the courtships of his two eldest daughters, there had been something too public about the entire situation with Jane and Bingley. From the first it was as though it had been played out in the public square: the initial meeting and infatuation, the disappointment of Bingley's long absence, his return and his subsequent meeting of all Meryton's long held expectations; even after they married the doings of Netherfield became some sort of oddly public concern. Darcy and Elizabeth, quite in contrast, had come together in complete privacy and intimacy, surprising all who knew them, even Jane and Bingley. So perhaps it should not have surprised Mr. Bennet that they continued to be so discreet and intimate in their affections throughout the period of betrothal-yet it was precisely that lack of expectations and that element of astonishment held by all when the match was made that left Mr. Bennet uncharacteristically eager for the displays of affections he generally was want to find so comical.

So he watched. And he saw that his dear Lizzy was happy, laughing and eager. He saw that Darcy was all attentiveness, but still so often wearing an inscrutable expression. He saw that when left to themselves they were talkative and at ease, so finally, Mr. Bennet concluded he must simply trust to Elizabeth's happiness. Of course, as is often the case, soon after he stopped looking, he saw an intimation of what they shared. It was but a small, delicate exchange only half heard, but it left him suddenly thinking that perhaps Jane and her Bingley had the greater part of infatuation, but that Darcy and Elizabeth had the greater part of understanding. And this satisfied him.

Darcy had gone to London to prepare all of the settlement papers, as well as to give some instructions at his house in town for the arrival of the new mistress. Upon his return he had given to Elizabeth his first lover's gift, a token, he said, of his regard. As soon as Mrs. Bennet saw the token, she was of course breathless with commentary-it was an extraordinarily delicate bracelet of small garnets interspaced with gold filigrees in the shape of a flower blossom with a tiny diamond within each bud-not all of which was complimentary. "Garnets? Why not rubies if he so prefers red gems?" was an oft repeated question. Fortunately for Elizabeth, her betrothed did not hear such ravings, as he had gone to request that Mr. Bennet spare him some time to review the settlement. Having secured Mr. Bennet's time, Elizabeth was asked to join them.

Mr. Bennet watched with some amusement as the lovers attempted to appear unmoved by the awkwardness of engaging in such a mercenary exercise in the midst of a courtship. Elizabeth sat in a chair before his table and looked resolutely at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, and Darcy stood at the window, back to the room, while Mr. Bennet reviewed the documents. Occasionally, an eyebrow would rise in what could be construed as either surprise or displeasure, and he would look from his daughter's down turned head to her betrothed's back-noting for the first time, almost absently and certainly incongruently, what broad shoulders the man had. After some time he took his spectacles off, placed them on the desk and cleared his throat. He succeeded in getting Elizabeth to look up, but Mr. Darcy continued to stare out the window, hands behind his back, fingers methodically spinning his signet ring, shoulders stiff and tense.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet began, "I assume from these documents that we have not been accurately informed regarding your condition in life."

Elizabeth gave her father a puzzled look, but Mr. Bennet simply looked toward Darcy with a neutral expression. Darcy turned into the room and replied in a formal and practiced tone, "I am unaware of what you have been told and therefore I cannot vouch for the accuracy of your information, sir."

"Yes, well. As I am sure you could surmise, the entire populace of Meryton knew your income before they knew your name or character. Of course, having learned as we have so recently that the populace of Meryton was not all together perfect in some of their opinions, it should not perhaps surprise me that they should have not all together accurate information on a gentleman visiting the neighborhood for a little shooting."

Darcy took a deep and audible breath, as though annoyed by Mr. Bennet's ruminations on the good people of Meryton. "Sir, pronouncements regarding my fortune have, unfortunately, long been my lot to suffer. Paying that as little mind as I can, I no longer know what people say-they may have me the King of Siam for all I know. If you will but inform me of what you have been told I can verify the veracity of your information."

At this point Elizabeth was growing decidedly uneasy, which Mr. Bennet could see, although he could not know its cause. In truth, Elizabeth and Darcy had come to a tentative peace with the issues raised during his Hunsford proposal and the recent disapprobation in some quarters to their engagement, and Darcy had shown her every devotion and tenderness, yet her uneasiness would rise as she felt suddenly the reality of their disparate situations for the first time.

"Ten thousand pounds a year is the general expectation."

Darcy cleared his throat and looked first at the back of Elizabeth's head and then to Mr. Bennet. "As you could surely surmise from the settlement, that is not entirely accurate."

"So I suspected," Mr. Bennet dryly replied. He watched with something akin to amusement as Darcy proceeded to straighten his back still more while lowering his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion.

"Pemberley itself represents a clear twelve thousand pounds a year. There is a property in Scotland, currently let, which I inherited from my godmother. There are some additional interests and investments of which I shall provide details should you desire. Together it would be more accurate to say nearer to sixteen thousand pounds a year."

Elizabeth was overawed and dropped her head again that her father might not see the look of complete surprise that engulfed her. It was not the difference itself that overawed her so, for whether he be worth ten or sixteen thousand a year was really the same in that they were both unfathomable amounts. But this clear, business like discussion of his worth and the clarity of her own situation, in a purely worldly sense, left her feeling for the first time in their history, quite inferior. The stark knowledge that she brought only her charms was shocking-even as it simultaneously confirmed his devotion to her and made it that much more precious.

She was interrupted from her reflections by her father, who began to laugh in a strangely uncontrolled manner that confused both Elizabeth and Darcy. Finally he remarked: "I think, young man, I will do you the favor of letting Meryton, and most particularly Mrs. Bennet, continue in their belief. I see no reason to enlighten them further."

Bowing in appreciation, Darcy conceded the information need not be shared beyond the room. Elizabeth remained silent and listened as her father detailed the settlement and other such peripheries. When he had completed the explanation, he turned to Darcy for confirmation that he had not misrepresented the contents of the document.

"Well then Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said jovially, "have you any questions? Will the pin money suffice, do you think?"

She replied, almost meekly. "No questions sir. In truth, it is far too generous. It cannot be necessary to be so generous."

Darcy walked to her chair and, remaining behind her, called her name. "Elizabeth?" she would not look to him, rather she looked again to her hands, still neatly folded in her lap. Placing his hand on her shoulder, Darcy said in softened tones, "Elizabeth, you shall soon be the Mistress of Pemberley. As such, this is your right and your due."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," was her only, quiet response.

As they left the library, Mr. Bennet felt again some trepidation. That Elizabeth had been made uncomfortable by the reality of her new situation was evident, that Darcy tried to assure her was pleasing, but again he felt the lack of effusion he had seen when Bingley laid out his, relatively more modest, settlement for Jane. Mr. Bennet did not know what he needed to see to feel at ease, but he knew he had not yet seen it.

That evening, however, he at last saw what would give him peace-it was a small gesture, a few private words spoken in a public space, words so intimate he knew he should have walked a few steps away to avoid hearing them.

Diner had been with a large party of neighbors and Elizabeth had been quiet and dispirited since the morning's settlement discussion. Mrs. Bennet, in an effort to crow about the prestigious man that would soon be her son, perversely placed them at different ends of the table, seating Mr. Darcy next to those she most wished to impress. Having been separated from his betrothed for the entire evening, and knowing she was in low spirits but not quite understanding why, Darcy himself was as impatient and taciturn as he had ever been when first arriving in Hertfordshire. When the gentleman rose to join the ladies in the drawing room, Darcy was hard on Mr. Bennet's heals, eager to speak with Elizabeth.

The two gentlemen entered the room first and looked upon the face of a very mortified Elizabeth-she looked ashen, stricken. She was standing slightly apart from a group of women that included her mother, whose voice could be heard above the room's steady chatter.

"Oh yes she will be quite fine, very rich. And dear Mr. Darcy is ever so attentive to her. Why just today as he returned from London he brought her a lovely token of his affections. A little bracelet she wears right now. Nothing really. As I said, just a small token. A few little diamonds you know. I am sure that the next one will have rubies too instead of garnets. I cannot imagine why he selected garnets. But then, once she is married she shall be able to purchase all the jewels she likes, for he is quite taken with her. I am sure he will deny her nothing. Still, I do wonder about the garnets."

"Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Bennet interrupted loudly, "the gentlemen have joined you. Shall we not have some refreshments?" And thus distracted her revelry ended.

Darcy, meanwhile, had gone straight to Elizabeth's side where she had looked upon him with a look of such mortification and shame, until she could not look upon him any longer, and bowed her head. Mr. Bennet moved himself toward the couple with the intention of lightening Elizabeth's embarrassment with some quip regarding her mother's indiscretion. But as he approached he saw Darcy lift her hand and begin to play with the bracelet that had just been disparaged by Mrs. Bennet as not worthy. Elizabeth's eyes turned to look at his hand caressing the small, delicate gems. Darcy began to speak, in a voice so soft and tender that even to Mr. Bennet's ears it sounded like a caress-Mr. Bennet was surprisingly mesmerized.

"It matters not my love. I should hope that you understand that by now."

"I do," she replied softly. "But still."

Darcy continued to hold one hand in his, while he stroked the small gems of the bracelet with the other hand. There was no other movement between them.

"Do you wonder about the garnets?" She looked up at him with distress and confusion, shaking her head slowly.

"The diamond," he said, passing his finger over one of the diamonds, "of course speaks of love. But I think the garnet is just as important. It speaks of friendship. Both speak of fidelity." At this he lifted his eyes and smiled, a warm, radiant smile. "For we will be not just faithful lovers, but faithful friends as well, will we not?" A thoroughly lovely blushing smile spread across Elizabeth's face and an expression of tenderness soon replaced the distress and unease that had been sitting therein.

"But there is another reason I wanted my very first gift for you to contain garnet stones. In truth, I could give you no other. For the garnet stone is said to dispel sadness-just as you have done for me."

He lifted her hand and gently kissed it, all tensions dissipated. "Oh my," Mr. Bennet said to himself, as a feeling of peace overtook him, sensing that indeed she would be cherished as much as he could wish for.

It was then, with a new sense of tranquility, that Mr. Bennet began to see unfolding before him a man of great quality, a man not easily known, perhaps even by those he called friends. For while he saw that Bingley greatly admired his friend and seemed to instinctively understand his merits, Mr. Bennet could not but wonder if he did in fact know his friend. Indeed, Mr. Bennet found himself surprisingly intent on knowing Darcy-not just appreciating his merits, or understanding his general character, but knowing him. And he began to wonder if it was not a similar unfolding that occurred for Elizabeth when she began to love him.

"Pemberley," he said to himself as the carriage disappeared from the drive and took the newly wed couple to their home in London. "I shall have to wait to see them at Pemberley. There I shall see at last the simple truth of the man, I am sure."

Part II

Posted On Tuesday, 6 May 2003

"Not 5 miles to Pemberley, sir"

Mr. Bennet was not a man easily moved. He was too cynical for the effects of emotions to succeed on his heart. Yet the words of the driver set his heart a flutter as surely as any girl's heart as she attended her first ball. He was himself quite taken aback by the feeling of expectant joy that overtook him knowing that soon he would be in the company of his dearest Lizzy. Oh yes, her delightful company again, her musical laughter filling his soul with feelings of glad tidings. As he mulled this through the last remaining miles past and he did but vaguely pay attention to the long drive into the estate and the fine groves and woods.

However, upon climbing a hill and reaching its apex he drew in a breath, and asking the carriage to stop, found himself again unaccountably moved. For Mr. Bennet was also a man not easily impressed, but when he saw the grand house laid before him, in that most perfect of situations, so nobly ensconced, as impressive and unpretentious as an old oak, he thought he had never seen a place so lacking in pomp and yet so unmistakably elegant and grand.

"Oh my Lizzy, this is quite a home you have here," he muttered as he told the man to drive on. He began to ponder anew his contention that Darcy was a man not to be known without knowing his estate and his land, without knowing the place from whence he sprung.

The carriage was soon at Pemberley's door and as Mr. Bennet alighted from the carriage he took a moment to look upon the stately façade and wondered again that this was the home of his darling girl. He stepped up to the doorway.

"Good afternoon, is Mrs. Darcy in?"

"She is sir. May I tell her who is calling?"

"Actually, I would rather you not. Could you simply take me to her? I would like to surprise her. I am her father." This was an unusual request, even if the man was the mistress' father, and the footman felt he must speak first to Mrs. Reynolds for her approval.

"Allow me to bring the housekeeper then, Mr. Bennet."

Mr. Bennet was soon joined by Mrs. Reynolds, who agreed to lead Mr. Bennet unannounced to his daughter.

"She is not in the drawing room at present sir, but taking tea with Mr. Darcy in the master's study. If you will follow me."

Mrs. Reynolds led Mr. Bennet down a series of long and very elegant passageways, until they neared a room with the door ajar and voices floating out. Mr. Bennet heard his daughter's musical laughter, accompanied by a deep, rich laughter he presumed to be that of Mr. Darcy-having never heard the man laugh he could only presume. As Mrs. Reynolds neared the door to knock, Mr. Bennet touched her arm gently and motioned for her to stop. Reluctantly Mrs. Reynolds acquiesced-her mistress's father appeared such a kindly gentleman and so bent on the surprise. Mr. Bennet quietly approached the door and opened it ever so slightly. He noted that the perfectly oiled hinges made not a sound. The door opened into a large and richly furnished study. The walls were dark, but the windows were large and opened onto a splendid vista of the park, filling the room with the afternoon sun. His eyes quickly swept the room and noted the impressive desk covered in papers, well stocked shelves, a painting of the hunt, a saber, a portrait of a man who looked remarkably like an older version of his daughter's husband, Persian rugs, a table with crystal decanters filled with rich auburn liquors, a globe. It was all one would anticipate for the study of a man of consequence: comfortable, sturdy, elegant and warm.

Having entered unannounced and in silence, for a moment he watched the couple before making his presence known. They were sitting together on a sofa, the tea tray on a table in front of them. Darcy's back was to the door, sitting and facing his wife, his broad shoulders and tall frame hiding her from Mr. Bennet's view. Darcy had one arm resting atop the back of the sofa and Elizabeth had her hand resting atop his forearm.

"You, my darling wife," Darcy was saying, "are simply incorrigible."

"Perhaps. But I defy you to find exception with that."

My goodness, Mr. Bennet thought, I seem to have walked in on a flirtation. Before it could proceed, he remarked in a mild tone, "Mr. Darcy, Lizzy being incorrigible should hardly come as a surprise."

The couple shot up in a moment, blushing, and then realizing who was standing in the study, Lizzy ran to her father and embraced him with a giddy, "Papa!"

Pulling his daughter from his arms and taking a good long look at her he smiled. "I need not ask how you are fairing my dear, you look remarkably well."

The next half hour was spent in happy reunion, until they were interrupted by a call from Mr. Darcy's steward.

"Oh yes, that business with Mr. Barton, is it not?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I am afraid so. It really cannot wait, my love."

"No. It really must be resolved once and for all. Do not concern yourself. I shall take my father to his chambers that he might change from his traveling attire, and then I shall give him a tour of the house and gardens. We shall leave you to this Barton concern and see you at dinner, for I gather it will take the rest of the day." Giving her husband a kiss on the cheek, she turned to her father and placed her arm in his. "Now come, Papa, I have ever so much to show you."

"So it would seem," he replied tersely.

"Tell me," he said, as they made their way down the hallway, "you seem to know about this business that distracts your Darcy today. Does he share with you all the estate concerns?"

"Yes. We are in each others complete confidence, Papa."

"I am pleased to see he respects you enough for this."

"He could not be a better husband."

"Yes, I recall now. He is the very best of men."

"You tease me Papa, but he is."

"And I am pleased if it be so, my dear girl."

Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth spent the afternoon in delighted conversation, while she showed him all the main rooms of the house and the gardens. Mr. Bennet was quite sure that his daughter had never been so happy, nor looked so well. In fact, for the first time ever he thought her looking quite as beautiful, if not more so, then Jane. It was as though she had blossomed. He was very pleased, which of course made him teasing.

"You are proving a very poor guide Lizzy, you have not told me the cost of a single fireplace. How shall I ever report this with any credit to Mr. Collins? And you have not told me how many settees are upholstered in silk, so I know not what I shall tell your mother."

They continued in this delightful manner until it was time to prepare for dinner. As Elizabeth was leaving her father to go and dress, she took his hand in her own and pressed it gently.

"I am so very pleased you have come Papa. Here you will be able to know my husband at his best. Some people are at their best in the company of strangers and acquaintances when they must behave. But my husband is at his best here at Pemberley, at the place he holds so dear, with those he loves and who love him in turn."

"Fear not. If he makes you this happy my dear, I cannot but think well of him."

Everything he saw that evening and the following day, did in fact contribute to his thinking well of Darcy. His daughter's happiness was itself sufficient for that, but he witnessed as well the very true and tender affection between the couple. While Darcy still had not Bingley's ebullience of adoration, he did clearly demonstrate his attachment, with delicacy and consistency. It felt steady and deep, and was moving in its intimacy. There was a general sense of ease and felicity about them that gave to their home a warm and welcoming feeling.

At dinner on Mr. Bennet's second evening, Mr. Darcy made a suggestion which would prove decisive to Mr. Bennet's finally resolving what he had long privately called "the riddle of Darcy".

"Mr. Bennet, I will be riding out at first light tomorrow toward the northern reaches of the estate. I will be calling on some tenants. It will be a full day and I would not expect to return before sundown. Would you care to ride out with me? You could in that manner have a good look at your daughter's home."

Touched by his reference to the estate as "your daughter's home" Mr. Bennet, not an enthusiast of long rides, felt it impossible to refuse. "I think I shall join you, Mr. Darcy."

"Excellent!" Darcy replied with a genuine enthusiasm that quite surprised Mr. Bennet.

"But I am an old man, so do have one of your grooms saddle me a quite creature. Not a monster like the one I saw you riding out on yesterday."

The table laughed happily. "Trajan is no monster, but he is fast as the devil."

"I'll have one slow and steady if you will."

"Slow and steady. Very well. Then at first light we shall set off."

At first light Mr. Bennet made his way toward the stables. The morning was damp and misty as the early morning sun began to rise. As he approached the entrance, he saw and heard Darcy speaking with his housekeeper.

"We shall be riding out first to the Gibson's and then follow out to the McNulty's. Depending on the time, we may also ride to the Burns place. Mrs. Darcy is aware of all this, but in case we are needed send a man at once."

"Yes, Mr. Darcy. Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Have a carriage ready for Mrs. Darcy, she wishes to visit that poor Brown boy. I believe she will set out immediately after breakfast."

"Very well sir. And will you and Mr. Bennet be returned in time for dinner?"

"Perhaps." Darcy turned and saw Mr. Bennet approach. "Ah, good morning Mr. Bennet. Ready for a good brisk morning ride are you?"

"Good morning Mr. Darcy. I believe I am as ready as an old man ever shall be."

"Excellent. Then let's go to it!" And turning on his heals, Darcy walked toward the stables.

Mr. Bennet watched Darcy's vigorous and confident strides with admiration. He was all youthful energy and strength and aristocratic elegance. But something in Darcy's gait, a lightness, perhaps, that was so different from his drawing room demeanor, suddenly struck Mr. Bennet with the notion of Darcy's relative youth. "Not yet thirty," he mused, "and years master of such an estate as this, and those years so evident in his confidence and decisiveness."

They rode out at first in a companionable silence, Darcy interrupting the quiet from time to time to point out a particular sight or object of interest. Mr. Bennet was pleased by how often Darcy remarked on a particular view or grove that was a favorite of Elizabeth's, and he wondered if Bingley could so casually recognize Jane's preferences-of Wickham and Lydia he need not wonder. It was a long ride before reaching the Gibson place, and throughout Mr. Bennet asked questions about the estate, impressed with the expansive and detailed knowledge Darcy had of every particular concerning this great estate. Reflecting upon his own more careless management of the very much smaller Longbourn, he said, "I am impressed Mr. Darcy, with the great depth of knowledge you have of your estate. Many a landowner is happy to leave such details to a competent and trusted steward and bothers only with the essentials."

"I have a most excellent Steward, as did my father before me-Mr. Wickham's father-and we have certainly always relied on the good judgment and competence of these men. But I believe the first lesson I learned while still on my father's knee was that a good landowner and master must always be prepared to run his estate without the assistance of a Steward. There is too much at stake, he would say, for it to be otherwise, for it is not just the Darcy legacy concerned. The lives and fortunes of many families are dependent on our responsible and diligent management."

"A fine lesson, clearly well learned."

The conversation was cut short here as they arrived on the lands of the first tenant Darcy wished to call upon. As Mr. Bennet observed Darcy for the remainder of the day as he interacted with the tenants and their families, he was greatly impressed. While they all showed him the deference required to their master and landowner, Darcy was all easy politeness, proper and oddly warm, not at all the aloof and condescending man that Hertfordshire immediately took a dislike to at the infamous Assembly ball. Mr. Bennet was surprised by the ease and good will demonstrated between the master and his tenants, his amiability and knowledge of their concerns. Darcy was firm, decisive and commanding, without being authoritative in manner. And in his conversation he displayed a quick, agile and fair mind. It was as though Mr. Bennet had never seen the man before, and he was confirmed in the belief that to know the man he must be seen at Pemberley, and he recalled what his daughter had said the day he had arrived: "he is at his best here." Indeed, thought Mr. Bennet, indeed.

The day progressed and late in the afternoon Darcy and Mr. Bennet made their way back to Pemberley house, Mr. Bennet's head fairly teeming with questions.

"May I ask, Mr. Darcy, how old were you when you took over management of Pemberley?"

"I was two and twenty when my excellent father died. But in truth I had been managing it for nearly a year before. My father's illness was long and painful."

"Full young for so much responsibility."

Darcy would have customarily let the conversation end there, but he was feeling unusually communicative. He had been so pleased to see his wife's happiness in her father's company, and he felt as though he would wish to have the older man understand him better, that it would please his wife if it were so. "I never gave that much thought, in truth. I was riding the estate along with my father almost as soon as I could sit astride a horse, sir. And as a boy my lessons were as like to include estate issues as history or Latin."

"Never encouraged to be idle then, were you?"

"Not particularly, sir."

"Still. It must have been a great weight at so young an age, when your companions were primarily concerned with pints of ale and balls."

"Fortunately, pints of ale and balls have never held any great attraction for me. I did find the responsibility of my sister's care and education a greater weight. As a man of just two and twenty I did not know how to be father and mother and brother to her all. I did not wish to fail her. She is such a darling girl and was so despondent when we lost our father. They were quite close."

"I suppose having a young girl in your care would have also impacted your view on some of the less proper activities some young men indulge in."

"Truly. At Cambridge it was not pints of ale and balls that were of interest to some, but gambling and indiscretions. Neither was to my liking, and less so given my circumstances, I should imagine."

They rode on for a time with no more conversation. Mr. Bennet thinking on how it had been for himself, as a much older man, to have the care and responsibility of young ladies, how he had failed in his attentiveness and what seriousness of intent this man demonstrated now, and surely had as well at such a tender age. To have so much responsibility, and yet so much freedom at so young an age must have shaped him strongly and not always well and would perhaps explain how this amiable and engaging man he now saw could show himself in such a manner as to be the same man that affronted all of Meryton.

Too much-independence and fortune--and not enough-guidance and affection--all at once and at a critical age, he concluded.

Mr. Bennet began again, picking up as though there had been no pause to their conversation. "But then Darcy, you had an independence other young companions still dependent on allowances must have envied."

At this, Darcy let out a cynical chuckle. "What I had, sir, was every ambitious mother and unattached lady in England pressing upon me their charms and whiles. Upon my word, there is nothing so distasteful as pretty women of good breeding acting like cattle for inspection or sensible women acting the fool, all in an obvious attempt to secure ones independently controlled fortune. Where is the humanity you wonder, the dignity, including ones own?"

"I had never thought of it in quite such stark terms. I rather found it amusing."

"When one has been the object it is far from amusing. Nor is it amusing to see women demean themselves in an effort to secure a connection and a fine house. It is why Elizabeth's refusal of my first proposal made me love her and respect her more then I already did, as I have no other. Here was a woman, I realized, who will not bend her principals or sell her integrity. Given the society I had lived in for so many years, it was astonishing and wonderful."

Mr. Bennet nearly fell off his horse, and reigning in the creature to a stop, stammered, "First proposal? What first proposal?"

Darcy looked at his usually cynical father-in-law, whose countenance was filled with unmistakable and absolute amazement, and could not help but laugh, an open, generous laugh. "Oh yes, your daughter refused my first proposal. You do not really believe that I won her without an effort do you?"

"I knew nothing about it."

"Very few do, even now. I believe only four people do, other then Elizabeth and I, naturally."

"And when was this first proposal, if I may ask?"

"Certainly. I first proposed when we unexpectedly found ourselves in company for three weeks in Kent."

"In Kent? Why, that was months before you became engaged."

"Our conversation at Hunsford was extraordinarily forthright, in fact, I believe it is why we are so open with one another now. She learned that some things she believed about me were in fact slanders against my character, I learned that I was, nonetheless, lacking in certain manners that made me unacceptable to her. After my bitterness and disappointment dissipated I was actually oddly elated, for I knew that if I could win her, I would win her as a man, not by my fortune or position. You cannot imagine, Mr. Bennet, the gift that was, and still is."

"But I don't imagine that is why she refused you." Mr. Bennet remarked wryly.

"Not at all," Darcy chuckled. "She refused me because my form of address merited the severest reproof, but the gift was none the less given."

"You speak of it so lightly."

"Now, perhaps. It was bitterly painful for me at the time, but, as I said, now I look upon it as a gift. And then, she has been my wife these five months now."

"You have given her a very grand life."

"I have given her the life I had to offer, that is all. Perhaps it is grand. But she has given me so much more. Something so much more rare."

"Disinterested affection?"

"Yes. And joy."

"Joy? Is that so rare?"

"Here at Pemberley it was for a great many years, until she walked in and became its mistress. All the worldly goods I have given her cannot compare with what she has given me. No. Never."

"But you seem to have given to her in kind, Darcy."

"I hope so."

The men came upon a ridge now, and the grand house could be seen in the not so far distance. "It is, regardless, a stunning prospect Darcy."

Mr. Bennet watched as a broad and warm smile lit Darcy's face. "Yes. And inside is the most remarkable wife a man could ever dream of." Pausing for a moment, he continued, "I think if we give the horses a good push we can arrive in time to join the ladies for dinner. Shall we?"

"By all means," Mr. Bennet remarked, at which Darcy took off on his fine horse with admirable speed. Mr. Bennet noted Darcy's excellent seat and the air of elegance and confident strength that emanated from his tall and graceful figure. He thought upon the day and the young man's openness and all he had said. "Yes, she has made a very fine match." And with that he urged his slow and steady horse forward.

That night at dinner Mr. Bennet was in a jovial, playful mood. Elizabeth would have him discuss what he saw and how he liked all he had seen. Mr. Bennet was pleased to oblige her and was sincere and generous in his praise as he could be, but never able to let a conversation go without some teasing, he finally added, "Still, I cannot comprehend Lizzy, that you left me to your mother's nerves and your sisters' silliness for this!" And he waved his hands about, gesturing to the room and the elegant table.

"Papa!" she cried.

"Oh, I will grant you that your Mr. Darcy has proved to be quite a great man and surprisingly charming and Miss Darcy clearly has five times the good sense of Mary and Kitty, poor girls. Why I do not believe she has said one silly thing since I have arrived. Rather refreshing."

"I trust then," Darcy interjected in an equally jovial tone, "your visit will be of some duration?"

"Why look, he even smiles in the most becoming manner. I suppose I must give up then bringing you back to Longbourn!"

At this, Elizabeth looked to her husband, who was in fact smiling in the most becoming manner. Seeing this, Mr. Bennet added, "And then of course, Lizzy, you are so hopelessly besotted."

Turning to Miss Darcy, he continued. "Miss Darcy, I dare say your brother has turned my sensible level headed Lizzy into quite a silly creature. All sensibility now and no sense at all."

"If it be any consolation Mr. Bennet, I believe the same can be said of my brother. I did so depend on his rational guidance, but it seems a hopeless case now."

"Well then Miss Darcy, nothing to it but for you and I to depend upon each other."

With Elizabeth and Darcy now blushing thoroughly, Mr. Bennet was quite satisfied. "A little more wine, perhaps," he said, motioning to the servant.

Mr. Bennet stayed on for another fortnight, enjoying himself as he had not done in years. The library was a dream, the wine cellar superb, the company all that is delightful, witty, sensible and warm. He was quite tempted to stay indefinitely, but return to Longbourn he must.

On the morning of his departure Mr. Bennet chatted amiably with Darcy as they walked toward the carriage.

"I dare say Darcy, you have made my Lizzy so very happy that I am in peril of singing your raptures in a manner quite likely to make even Mrs. Bennet blush from the impropriety of it all."

"I shall endeavor, sir, to ensure that you remain always in such peril."

"Do. I would look upon it as a personal favor." Mr. Bennet then patted Darcy on the shoulder affectionately as the men turned and joined Elizabeth as she came out of the house.

"On pleasure bent again, Papa?"

"Pleasures! And such pleasures that await me back at Longbourn. I suppose I shall not hear two words of sense again for some time, for Jane and Bingley are off to town and I shall be left with your mother's nerves, your sister Mary's sermons and Kitty's coughs."

"When shall you return to Pemberley Papa?"

"When I am least expected, my dear girl, when I am least expected."

The End