Section I, Next Section

Prologue

The world would intrude on their idyllic

"That will be all," Darcy said.

As the servants departed they closed the door upon the breakfast room and Darcy turned to his wife and watched with fresh fascination as she poured him a cup of coffee. He wondered for not the first time that he should find such delight in such ordinary activity. For while the private privileges of wedded intimacy were indisputably manifold in pleasures and rewards, these several months into their marriage he found almost a greater enchantment and fascination in that knowledge which revealed not the intimacy of loving, but the intimacy of living: the manner in which she slightly pursed her lips when pouring tea or coffee; the way in which she tilted her head when reading her correspondence, and the slow, careful gait of her hand while writing the same; the near delirium with which her lovely visage was infused when she inhaled a flower's fragrance; the extra brilliancy in her marvelous eyes when the day dawned bright; how she bit the corner of her lip when she could not decide from a selection of books; the peculiar pleasure she took in stealing sips of his brandy while persistently denying any inclination for the same; the manner in which she discreetly rolled back her head and stretched her supple neck when the night was long and she was tired. Watching as she finished preparing his coffee and as she fixed now her own cup of tea Darcy mused upon the truth that with each small and daily charm that he observed she was every day burrowing herself deeper into his heart.

Grown accustomed now to her husband's penetrating, frequent and silent observation, Elizabeth did not disregard said observation, and she was, in point of fact, pleased more then not by its continued performance.

"Your coffee will grow cold, my dear, will you not sit?"

Taking his seat Darcy merely said, "Thank you," before happily turning his attentions to the plentiful breakfast before him.

"Today promises to be another fine day," Elizabeth continued, as she spread her toast with strawberry preserve. "The remainder of Georgiana's journey should be quite comfortable. In her letter she sounded very content. I am so pleased she had such an enjoyable visit with your aunt."

"She has long been a little afraid of my uncle, but with the Earl away and only my aunt for companionship I am sure we will indeed find her content with her visit. Colonel Fitzwilliam has always been a favorite with Georgiana and his easy temper is very much like his mother's."

"I would imagine so, she was very kind to me when we were in Town. So warm and welcoming."

Darcy looked displeased as he remarked almost coldly, and certainly defensively, "As opposed to others, you mean?"

They occupied together the corner of the vast table, allowing Elizabeth to easily stretch out her hand and place it on Darcy's arm, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "I meant to make no such intimation. I thought you understood that I am not at all discontented by how I have been received by any member of your family. While it gives me pleasure that with Lady Margaret I sense there can, with time, be some degree of confidence, I concede it was more than I anticipated. The Earl, your cousin Edward and his wife were perhaps not warm in their reception, but I imagine they are simply not particularly warm by nature. They were, however, perfectly civil."

"Unlike Lady Catherine."

"I have said before that while her coming to see me at Longbourn was a great impertinence, it was not, viewed dispassionately, wholly unexplainable. I do wish you would reconsider and attempt some reconciliation."

Darcy sighed heavily. "I should not have mentioned her. Pray, it is a lovely morning, let us not discuss this matter again. I understand that you would wish for me to reconcile with her, you have made that plain in the past, but I cannot find it in me to reconcile, not after the reprehensible sentiments she expressed in that unconscionable letter. Can we not simply agree to differ on this matter?"

Elizabeth observed the pronounced frown that sat upon her husband's face as he recalled all that surrounded the ruptured relations with his aunt and was certain she must persuade him to heal the breach. Now, however, was not the moment; he was not presently inclined for such discussion, and, in truth, neither was she.

"Very well, let us leave off for the time. Now tell me instead, are you not eager to see your sister?"

As Elizabeth asked her question she took a small bite from her toast and a small drop of the strawberry preserve stuck to her lip. As Elizabeth continued with her breakfast, quite unaware of the less then elegant offending strawberry preserve adorning her lip, Darcy's frown was quickly replaced with a smile as he reached across with his napkin and whipped away the offending drop of preserve. Elizabeth blushed becomingly.

"I must confess," Darcy answered at last, "that I am not altogether eager for her arrival."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, you surprise me!"

"I, of course, am eager to see her settled at long last here at Pemberley and I am eager for you and Georgiana to continue to understand each other, to see strengthened the regard that so happily and unaffectedly began while we were together in London." Darcy pushed his plate aside and reached across the table to take Elizabeth's hand, enveloping its small softness within his own two strong hands. "But I do confess, Elizabeth, that this time we have shared here at Pemberley, all alone, is not something I am eager to forsake. Particularly as once Georgiana returns home she will swiftly be followed by far too many guests. What were we thinking extending so many invitations? In truth, I am not at all disposed to sharing your company with others."

"That is very ungenerous of you, my dear," Elizabeth replied playfully. "Particularly as you have had me all to yourself all these weeks now and you know how I long to see Jane, who I have not seen for these many months."

"You see!" Darcy exclaimed. "My worst fears are sure to be realized!"

"And what are your worst fears?"

"These!" he responded wryly. "All her sweetness notwithstanding, Georgiana can be rather demanding in her attentions when she so chooses, and most particularly when she has just returned from a visit of some sort. And then your beloved Jane will arrive shortly thereafter and you shall have no time or inclination for my company at all and I shall find myself reduced to the ignominy of suffering jealously of your sister. Naturally, we shall concurrently have other guests who must be attended to and you will of course continue with your visits to our tenants. And I mustn't forget that with summer upon us we will have all manner of obligations with our neighbors. I will be reduced to having you alone to myself for no more then a half hour each day."

Elizabeth laughed gaily at the sight of her infamously severe Darcy pouting as petulantly as a small boy denied his favorite toy. "That is all perhaps for the best," she replied teasingly. "For too great a period alone with me might grow tiresome after a time."

"Never!" he responded as he pulled her from her seat, around the table and onto his lap. "You are well aware that I can be a very selfish, very spoiled man."

"Yes. It has been plainly established that you are rather too accustomed to having your own way, Mr. Darcy." She smiled as she caressed his face affectionately.

"That is indisputably so. And I should have you comprehend that I have grown quite accustomed to our time alone. Our long walks about the park, our quiet evenings sitting together, reading, conversing. I take great pleasure in having you play and sing for me and only me, and I quite enjoy having all your witty, adorable impertinence for myself alone. But what shall drive me quite mad is that once Georgiana arrives I shall no longer be able to kiss you at my own leisure."

And with that Darcy began to kiss his wife's hands, her shoulder, her neck, her lips, all the while murmuring playfully: "You are sweet and delicious and I have been able to freely love you these precious weeks that we have been alone, with no concern for what is right and proper or for who may see me kiss you with all the passion your mere presence elicits in your hopelessly besotted husband. What will I do now when I walk into your sitting room because I long to kiss you, only to find you in company, as I surely will, and so find I am only permitted to bow reverently over your delicate little hand? Tell me, my Lizzy, how shall I endure such suffering?"

Laughing at his delightful playfulness, she responded teasingly, "What would all your dignified acquaintances say to see you so?"

"To see me so? How so?"

"So very lively and unreserved."

"They shall never have a word to say about the matter, for it is only when alone with you that I can be such, that I feel myself unfettered, expansive, if you will. Does that displease you?"

"No, it does not. I would not wish you to all at once become as unrestrained in company as Bingley. Charming as Mr. Bingley is and as delightful a husband as he is for my dearest Jane, I would not have you look the fool in love for all the world. Let us keep this enchanting foolery as our own precious treasure."

"That, my dear little wife, is one of your most charming characteristics. You are so wholly unsentimental."

"Unsentimental? I do not know that I like that at all. It sounds almost as though I were unfeeling and aloof. Cold."

Darcy smiled broadly and shook his head. "Such willful misapprehension!" he said. Adding provocatively, as his finger traced her collarbone, "Do you not think that I would be intimately acquainted with such a dreadful demeanor if it were so?"

"Perhaps," she replied archly.

"I would not have you sentimental, Elizabeth. I find sentimentality rather suspect; a particularly impetuous, careless sort of sensibility. Indeed, you are as unlikely as I to give your affections rashly, yet when you do give your affections, you give them faithfully, unconditionally, and without undue mawkishness." He grew serious and taking her face squarely within his grasp he continued in a quiet, adoring tone. "I, most fortunate man that I am, have by some happy means won your frank, ardent, devoted and yes, entirely unsentimental love. And I would have it no other way."

"That is a very pretty description of my love. However, it discloses such an excess of confidence, Mr. Darcy. In truth, how can you be sure that I love you so beautifully?"

"Minx!" He laughed as he looked into her vibrant, joyful eyes-such luminous, mesmerizing eyes, he thought. Placing temperate, yet lingering kisses on her neck, he spoke with a tenderness that was palpable: "I can be sure because you show me. You show me in the manner in which you kiss me, in the manner in which you touch me, look at me, care for me and tease me. I know because you show me, generously and forthrightly."

"I show you?" she replied weakly, not a little affected by his attentions.

"You do."

"No more then do you, my love," she whispered in return. And, dear reader, as you could well imagine, they then indulged in some such shows of affection that would be, as Darcy had earlier regretted, quite inappropriate in the company of Georgiana. It was a sweetly mischievous kiss unluckily interrupted by a knock on the breakfast room door. Elizabeth returned somewhat unhappily to her seat at the table, but not before, with a charming arching of her eyebrow and pouting of her lips, straightening Darcy's slightly askew cravat.

"Enter," he commanded.

"Begging your pardon Mr. Darcy, your steward has arrived and says he has a matter of some unexpected urgency to discuss with you. He will await you in the library."

"Very well, Mrs. Reynolds. Please inform Mr. Fairfax that I will be with him shortly."

"Yes sir," she responded with a curtsey, exiting the room and being quite sure to close the door behind her. The staff had quickly ascertained, when Mrs. Darcy was first introduced to Pemberley before the Christmas season, that the master had made, rather surprisingly to some, what was universally described as a love match, and as such they quickly modified their service appropriately. When Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were in residence, open doors in occupied rooms where not as frequent as in the past.

"I suppose I must see what Mr. Fairfax is about," Darcy remarked with no small irritation as Mrs. Reynolds left the room. "However," he continued as he rose and walked to a small table across the room. "Not before I give you this."

Returning to her side, he handed Elizabeth a prettily wrapped package to her great surprise.

"And what is the occasion for a gift?" she inquired.

"I have told you before, I will spoil you with gifts whether you desire them or not, and for no particular reason at all."

"I do not need gifts."

"Yes, just my devotion, is that not what you said the first time I gave you a gift? At any rate, nobody needs gifts. I defy you, be that as it may, to not enjoy them when I present them to you."

"That I cannot do."

"I thought not. Now, my little minx, open your gift."

Leaning over he kissed her on the cheek and smiled expectantly as she removed the wrappings. Inside Elizabeth found a small music box whose top was decorated with inlaid mother-of-pearl in a very pretty motif of a violin and flowers. When she opened the box Darcy observed with pleasure her small, delighted smile as the sounds of a sweet, languid song escaped the confines of the box.

"Oh William!" Elizabeth cried. "I have never seen anything so charming, so delightful.* Thank you, I shall treasure it."

As she rose from her seat, he wrapped his arms around her and enfolded her into his embrace. "Elizabeth, I would wish that every time you open this box and hear its music you would recall these weeks when we have had this time alone, during which we have had the opportunity to establish the foundations of our happiness."

"I would beg to differ, my love, the foundations of our happiness were established well before we were wed, when we learned to be frank and open with one another, to trust and respect as well as to love each other. Yet I will grant you that these weeks have been precious and I shall treasure them always; that you would wish to as well moves me beyond measure. But now we are being sentimental."

"Not sentimental, but truthful in our sentiments. There is a distinction."

"Before I make a muddle of that distinction then, perhaps you had best see what Mr. Fairfax so urgently requires."

"Perhaps I had better," he responded quietly.

As Darcy made to leave the breakfast room to see Mr. Fairfax he paused as he took the handle of the door and turned to Elizabeth. He gave her one long parting look and both understood that these precious weeks of private communion had now come to an end. Georgiana would arrive in the afternoon and the others would follow soon thereafter. The world would intrude on their idyllic. And as with a warm smile he turned and walked away Elizabeth mused that indeed it had been an idyllic. They had loved and lived without formality, without ceremony, without hesitation and they had come to value and understand each other more deeply. She suspected she would be always grateful to Lady Margaret, who, by inviting Georgiana to stay in Town with her for those additional weeks, had given them the gift of intimate, uninterrupted time. Elizabeth felt the benefit of this gift particularly as she recalled Jane's letters, so filled with daily visits from Longbourn and other well-intentioned Meryton neighbors. But for now, neither Jane's letters, nor Georgiana's imminent arrival, nor the anticipated summer months filled with guests and obligations would dominate her thoughts.

Elizabeth walked across the room to the open window and looked out on the lovely park as it stretched out in the morning sun. She looked down at the music box in her hands, traced the intricacies of the design and lifted the top. The sweet, languid music escaped from the box and she smiled. Elizabeth was happy; happy as she had never before been. Darcy was in all manners the husband she had anticipated he would be and yet, surprisingly more, surprisingly different as well.

Chapter 1

Posted on Monday, 29 September 2003

Darcy had spent the better part of the morning in his study completing estate business and correspondence he wished concluded before the arrival of the Bingley party on the morrow. His tasks successfully accomplished he rose from his meticulously ordered desk and stretched; he thought he might go for a ride and get some exercise, but then thought the better of it as the morning was nearly past. He walked leisurely to the large window that overlooked the trout stream and leaned his tall form against the frame of the opened window. After two days of rain, it was a glorious morning. The sun was bright; the breeze was mild and the sky a clear, cloudless blue. The prospect from his study was one of his favorites. It was not the most expansive, like that to be had from the master bedchambers or the public rooms, but was instead almost intimate. From here he could see not only the gentle course of the trout stream that had provided such delightful distractions since boyhood, but also the lovely canopied pathway that led from the rose garden to the cutting gardens where he could still recall his mother selecting flowers for the house. As a boy he had occasionally accompanied her, only to sit in quiet observation of her occupation, participating in the stillness with which the household tacitly surrounded her in consequence of her delicate and timid disposition, so unlike the robust and vibrant disposition of his father. They had been, in character if not in station, improbably matched; respectful, loyal, dedicated to one another, certainly, and yet he could not recall any particular warmth.

He remained at his window and indolently considered the lovely morning. After a time he saw, under the canopied pathway and coming from the direction of the cutting garden, his wife and sister, walking arm in arm. Elizabeth wore a simple, white muslin gown and dangled a basket filled with yellow flowers from her hand. She was looking tenderly at Georgiana while she, in turn, appeared to be conversing enthusiastically. He did not know which to admire more, his unaffectedly lovely wife or his surprisingly grown sister. He settled easily on admiring them both and enjoying the gratifying affability of their intercourse. For although he did greedily lament the loss of Elizabeth's exclusive companionship since Georgiana's return, he nonetheless took great pleasure in each exchange that he witnessed between them. He could see in Georgiana's every expression that she was sincerely delighted in having a sister and a confidant. And he likewise perceived that Elizabeth offered to Georgiana the same tender sisterly devotion that was Jane's and he treasured Elizabeth the more for this natural easiness of confidence that he had so often felt unable to provide his beloved sister. Their mutual regard was sincere and increased daily and for this he was grateful.

The sound of Elizabeth's laughter rose into the air and drifted toward his window. As that now familiar and beloved sound reached his ears he did not move and he did not smile, yet his entire spirit was pervaded with a sense of peace that was visible upon his countenance. That he should have found the source of such peace--this incomparable woman--in a village of no consequence and in the midst of an often impossibly careless family, remained, for Darcy, an unspoken source of astonishment.

Elizabeth and Georgiana neared the house and Elizabeth pulled her arm from Georgiana's, raised her hand to the ribbon tied neatly beneath her chin and pulled on it. Releasing the bow, she removed the bonnet from her head and revealed her glowing and smiling face to Darcy's secret observation. She was listening attentively to Georgiana's conversation and as they turned toward the house Elizabeth stepped absent mindedly, her foot falling into a small puddle in the pathway, not yet dried by the morning's sun. On his sister's face Darcy could read Georgiana's immediate concern for the soiled hem and on Elizabeth's her evident lack of concern for the same. He could not hear the words from their lips, but imagined Elizabeth telling Georgiana that it was nothing to be bothered about.

As Darcy watched them he unexpectedly discovered the answer to Elizabeth's once proffered inquiry: when did he fall in love with her? At the time she had playfully made the inquiry he had responded that he could not know when he had begun, and yet as he watched her now he suddenly understood precisely when he had begun. For as clearly as he watched her walking into the house now, the hem of her white muslin slightly soiled, he saw her walking into Netherfield, her petticoat six inches deep in mud. Elizabeth had stood before the censorious Netherfield party defiant, independent, challenging, and bravely impassive to their disapprobation. Bingley's sisters had said she looked almost wild, and indeed she had: her cheeks flushed, her eyes particularly bright, her hair tousled, her entire appearance in minor disarray, her petticoat infamously sullied. In that one singular moment, however, he had seen her--her character, her person, her spirit--entirely stripped of civility's guise and he had been overcome with an unfamiliar, profound admiration which he had swiftly done all in his power to deny, as if to flee from the consequent want, need, desire, longing that welled uncontrollably within his breast. How could he, then, when she had inquired of the same, have not know that had been the moment when he had lost his heart? Perhaps because while his every instinct had reached for her, his head, his rational self had not similarly done so until after her rejection of his hand at Hunsford. That morning in the Netherfield breakfast room he had pushed aside the moment's insight as quickly as it had captured him. But now when he was in every respect so happily, passionately, rationally hers he could recognize the truth of that passing moment's revelation. He could never have dreamt then, bewitched and troubled as he was, that in that daring, poised, pretty country girl with the muddied petticoat he had stumbled upon the very thing he had never thought to want: his soul's companion. She had reached him, touched him in some restless, lonely, secret portion of his being and filled what he had not consciously recognized was empty.

A knock on the door roused Darcy from his revelry. Matthews entered the study and delivered the days post. Bringing his thoughts back to the present and the practical, Darcy stood at his desk and quickly reviewed the post, stopping at one with handwriting grown lately familiar. He opened it and found a short and in all ways satisfactory correspondence.

June 18__
Gracechurch Street, London

Dear Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Gardiner and I have received your letter and find once again your power of persuasion too daunting to dismiss. While Mrs. Gardiner had indeed indicated to Lizzy that my business would not allow time away this summer, we relent to your argument and your plotting. We will make the effort you so generously demand of us and we will be at Pemberley on the appointed day. It will, however, be a visit of necessarily short duration and so the children will not accompany us. One point that puzzles me, however, is why these plans must remain secret. Pray, enlighten me. Yours etc. Edward Gardiner

"Excellent!" Darcy cried, as he sat down at his desk and quickly scribed a response.

June 18__
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Dear Mr. Gardiner, I am delighted that I have been successful in pleading my case. I trust the secrecy is no great burden to bear and as for its cause, can you not simply indulge a gentleman's wish to indulge his wife? Elizabeth was disappointed by your initial denial and will be delighted by its rectification. When you do arrive we will have been so filled with guests that I am sure she will quite overlook that your arrival will be so particularly timed. She will rightly accuse me of maudlin feelings I am sure, but for this one time I care not. I await your arrival with great pleasure and expect that this year will provide ample opportunity for the fishing plans, among others, that were last summer so regrettably delayed.

Yours etc. Fitzwilliam Darcy

The letter sealed and dispatched, Darcy went in search of said wife, finding her in her sitting room accompanied by Georgiana. Each was happily occupied, Georgiana embroidering, Elizabeth reviewing menus for the coming visits.

"Good morning, my dears," Darcy intoned contentedly as he entered the room and took a seat on the chair across from Elizabeth's table after properly greeting each. "How do I find you this morning?"

"We are quite well," Elizabeth replied. "We were sorry to miss you at breakfast this morning. Has everything been completed to your satisfaction?"

"Entirely."

"You join us at the right moment. We were discussing the arrival of the Bingleys tomorrow. I was inquiring of Georgiana, who is so much more intimate with Miss Bingley then I, whether one days rest would be sufficient for Miss Bingley before we embark on our anticipated excursion to Cranston's lake, but she could not say. I suspect we may require an additional days anticipation, what do you think, my dear?"

"Perhaps an additional days anticipation would be best."

"So I suspected," Elizabeth replied. "I shall adjust the menus accordingly."

"I am so looking forward to furthering my acquaintance with Mrs. Bingley," Georgiana remarked quietly. "Your sister was so amiable when we were together in London."

"Dear Jane!" Elizabeth sighed. "I am so very eager for her arrival. I do not believe there is a better soul in all the world than Jane. She is all goodness. William, Georgiana has graciously offered to attend carefully to Miss Bingley's needs when they first arrive that I might have some time with Jane. Is that not thoughtful?"

"Quite propitious, I am sure."

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Elizabeth inquired, aroused by his satirical tone.

"Why do you persist in disliking Miss Bingley so?"

"I, dislike her? Hardly."

"Yes, hardly!" he replied sarcastically. Fixing his eyes upon her, he continued. "Perhaps you do not dislike her, for she can be quick witted enough, if a bit caustic in the execution of the same. Perhaps what you dislike is all the excessive attentions she continues to bestow upon me?"

"Brother!" Georgiana cried. It sounded like such an outrageous suggestion to her ingenuous ears. Miss Bingley was an acquaintance of some standing after all, and he appeared to be accusing her, if not of infamous behavior, certainly of unladylike attentions. Elizabeth, however, merely looked at Darcy with an arched eyebrow and responded with amusement.

"Do not be alarmed Georgiana, your brother means to provoke me. And as for that, Mr. Darcy, if a lady chooses to pay such excessive attentions to my husband as did Miss Bingley when we last saw her in London I will hardly feel anything regarding her pains excepting perhaps a little mortification on her behalf. She can hardly win you now."

"Will you not even allow a moments jealousy if only to gratify a man's sense of worth?"

"You need no help in that regard, my dear." Elizabeth laughed. "You think quite highly enough of your worth already. You need no help from me." Darcy smiled as Elizabeth returned her attentions to the menus before her.

Georgiana listened to the exchange with something between curiosity, amusement and shock; she was, even after all these months, not wholly accustomed to Elizabeth's lively manner with her brother. As she occasionally chose at such moments, she made excuses to leave the room, in this case pledging a great desire to recover a sketch she had made that morning; she wanted her brother's approbation of the same, she said.

As she left the room, Darcy rose from his chair and went to Elizabeth's side; lifting her hand to his lips he kissed it tenderly. "A moment alone."

"So it would seem."

"Do I disturb you?"

"Most happily. I am reviewing the revised menus from cook and I cannot keep my mind on it at all. I would much rather be out of doors on such a splendid day."

"Were you not out earlier? I saw you walking with Georgiana."

"Spying, my dear?"

Darcy smiled and did not respond. Instead he urged her to her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window behind them and a loose curl brushed onto Elizabeth's forehead. Darcy pushed it away, letting his hand caress her soft hair, so happily unencumbered by the odious caps married women were meant to don. Elizabeth leaned her head into his open hand and smiled. "I have an answer for your question." Darcy remarked.

"Do I have a question outstanding?"

"When did I fall in love with you?"

Elizabeth's eyes reflected her amusement. "I do not know whether to be gratified that you still recall the question or slighted that it took you this long to determine the answer."

"That is for you to determine. Would you like to have the answer?"

"I thought you were in the middle before you knew you had begun?"

"I had a revelation earlier."

"Well then?"

"The morning you came to Netherfield to attend to Jane."

"But we barely saw each other and certainly we exchanged not a single word."

"You had walked to Netherfield from Longbourn and when you were shown into the breakfast room your face was flushed and your petticoat was covered in mud."

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "I must have looked a spectacle. Hardly the manner in which a proper young lady would ever present herself. You cannot be serious? "

"Quite."

"You tease me."

Darcy decided to let her think it so. "Perhaps. After all, among the many things I have learned from you, I have possibly also learned to tease. In truth, Elizabeth, that morning you looked particularly..." He paused and let his eyes roam freely across her face, his fingertips softly following the course of his eyes.

"Particularly?"

"Alluring," he whispered, as he absorbed her into a tight embrace and kissed her slowly and deeply. Both were surprised by the powerful affect of Darcy's words and they kissed with an intensity rarely indulged outside the privacy of their bedchamber, with a languid, thirsty forgetfulness, with a heedless delight, a delicious abandon.

"It is not my best work, William, but I think you shall approve," Georgiana was saying as she returned unsuspectingly. Entering the room, she stopped abruptly and fell silent. She had, since her brother's marriage, witnessed frequent attentions on the part of her brother toward his wife. Some had been all that is proper in the presence of a sixteen-year-old sister, others, which she had espied unwittingly, were of a more tender nature clearly not meant for her observation; however, none, as she could recall, were quite as fervent as this interrupted embrace. Her face was immediately crimson and if her brother had not turned so quickly toward the window she may have seen something very much like a blush upon his own visage. Elizabeth, for her part, who might have been discomfited to be found in such an impassioned embrace with her husband, found the evident and extreme discomfort of the siblings amusing; she thought it best to alleviate their unease.

"May I see the sketch, Georgiana?" Elizabeth reached out her hand and took the sketch block. "Is it not lovely, William?" She continued, placing her hand on his arm that he might turn away from the window.

"Lovely." He responded, without giving it more than a passing glance. Long accustomed to seeking his approbation in all that she did, and long accustomed to his careful and thoughtful perusal of the same, his cursory attention only served to heighten Georgiana's embarrassment.

"It is not my best effort," Georgiana replied. "I should not have bothered you with it," she continued, turning to leave the room.

"You need not leave us Georgiana." Elizabeth said tenderly.

"Oh no, I understand," she stammered. "But I wish to practice a piece which Miss Bingley and I had discussed in London. I would not wish to disappoint her."

"Very well," Elizabeth remarked as Georgiana scurried away.

With no little annoyance, Darcy dropped himself into the chair he had earlier occupied. "She could knock before entering. She certainly has never entered my study without doing so."

"William, no young lady would ever enter a gentleman's study without first knocking, particularly when the gentleman in question is a severe elder brother. Nevertheless, you would surely not have us on such formal terms that she would not feel at ease simply entering my sitting room? I should never have it such with Jane and will not have it such with Georgiana."

"You really can be maddeningly sensible, my dear."

Elizabeth walked over to his chair and with a bright smile she lifted his hand and held it within her own. She observed her husband for a moment: his strong features, his thick disobedient hair, his broad shoulders and impeccably tied cravat. Lightly increasing her clasp of his hand she spoke in a voice rich with warmth and adoration: "Well then, I shall sensibly remind you, Mr. Darcy, that you shall have ample opportunity to kiss your wife before the day is through so such a display of bad temper is quite unnecessary."

Darcy looked up into Elizabeth's face. It was infused with a certain softness that came over her lovely features only when she looked at one truly beloved: Jane, her father, himself. Her eyes became warm, soft and melting and Darcy was, as of usual, transfixed by the beautiful expressiveness therein. Suddenly, he pulled his hand from her own and indicated that she should take a seat across from him. "Perhaps we ought to change the topic of our discourse or my sister shall once again be witness to another display of intimacy quite inappropriately witnessed by anyone, much less a sixteen-year-old girl."

"Yes," she smiled knowingly, "perhaps we ought."

When Darcy took up the conversation again it was in a tone of such practiced formality and calculated aloofness that Elizabeth required some effort to contain her laughter. "Mrs. Darcy, when I happened to see you walking with Georgiana earlier today she seemed to be very animatedly discussing something with you. May I inquire what inspired such enthusiastic discourse or would that violate her confidence?"

"You may know, but you will perhaps be displeased."

"Pray, explain."

"We were discussing Lady Catherine."

"Lady Catherine!" he replied with more anger then the disclosure warranted. "I trust Georgiana was not questioning my judgment in this matter. She may very well be nearly seventeen and I can clearly no longer treat her as a girl, but I am her guardian and I will not have her questioning my decisions or my judgment. I would not have you encouraging the same, Elizabeth. Certainly you can not expect me to allow her such liberties."

"No I do not have any such expectation nor would I encourage such behavior. I have long admired the balance you have achieved in your relations with Georgiana between discipline and indulgence, between respect and affection. You were such a young man when you became her guardian; a lesser man would have easily succumbed to simply spoiling her. Georgiana and I have grown very fond of each other and I am happy that she has begun to confide in me with ease, and I shall always, privately, give you whatever council you should desire, based on the understanding this confidence provides, but I shall never presume to interfere in your role as her guardian, Mr. Darcy. You have misapprehended the nature of our discourse completely."

Darcy looked discomfited as much by his error as his temper, and Elizabeth was severely tempted to tease him ruthlessly-his handsome visage swayed between annoyance and chagrin in the most endearing fashion. She declined, however, thinking this an opportune moment to address the continuing question of reconciliation with Lady Catherine.

"We were discussing her visit in London and she happened to mention a letter had arrived for your aunt from Miss de Bourgh, which is apparently a great rarity. That led your aunt to share a few observations with Georgiana regarding Rosings Park and Miss de Bourgh's unfortunate lack of preparation to one day be its mistress." She paused for a moment before continuing. He looked not at all desirous of continuing the conversation. "Is it true that when your father died it was Lady Catherine that gave you counsel regarding how you might best guide and educate Georgiana?"

"How would Georgiana know that?" Darcy replied in evident surprise at the conversation's turn.

"She merely surmised it from some of your aunt's observations. Mr. Darcy, how, precisely, were your relations with Lady Catherine before our engagement?"

Darcy began to fidget nervously with the seam of the chair's upholstered armrest, rising from the chair and pacing the room until he came to rest in front of the mantel. "You are familiar with Lady Catherine's propensity for offering unsolicited advice. I would be ungrateful, however, if I did not acknowledge that when my father died she did give me some sound advice regarding Georgiana's education. I had recently finished Cambridge and was residing primarily in Town. As a bachelor, only two and twenty myself, I hardly knew what to do with a sister who was only ten years of age and now wholly dependent on me--Colonel Fitzwilliam's role as her guardian has been more form than practice. Lady Catherine gave me counsel on many matters at the time and we were for a short time closely aligned. For all her faults she is a loyal and often astute woman, excepting, lamentably, where Anne is concerned. However, Lady Catherine soon began to insinuate, with some regularity, the scheme of my marrying Anne. I lost trust in her intentions. Although I would be unjust if I did not acknowledge that, whatever her interests, her affections for me have always been sincere."

"She has clearly been more to you then you have acknowledged. Why not seek a reconciliation?"

"Must we return to this subject? I find it unspeakably painful to discuss."

"May I ask one more question?" Taking a deep breath, he bowed to her will. "Is it in defense of my honor that you persist in this estrangement or is it your pride which resents her effrontery for questioning your choice?"

"That is an offensive characterization Elizabeth." He returned angrily. "You are my wife and I trust you would expect me to defend your honor, even against my aunt."

Elizabeth colored at her blunder. "Of course," she said at length. "Nevertheless, understand that I do not require this estrangement to feel my honor defended. My honor is not sullied by words expressed in heated disappointment."

"Do you defend her?"

"I do not defend her. I am merely suggesting that her words were, in part, born of disappointed hopes and can therefore perhaps be judged less implacably."

"Whatever her hopes may have been, that does not excuse such a gross violation of all civilities. You are my wife, Elizabeth, would you have me disregard such impropriety toward you, excuse it even?"

"I would not. It does not follow, however, that it cannot, in this case, be forgiven. She is your mother's sister. It can be forgiven. It ought to be."

"You astound me and frankly, I am not sure that is a compliment, my dear." He said this with such cold incredulity that Elizabeth was recalled to that long ago conversation at Netherfield when he had proclaimed, what she had termed, implacable resentment. But she, more then any other, knew his heart could be liberally forgiving.

Elizabeth rose from her seat and joined him at the mantel. She spoke softly but compellingly. "My love!" Darcy's face inevitably softened at these words. "I know you will always defend my honor and my happiness. In this case that impulse is misplaced. Lady Catherine has not the power to dishonor me, nor can she take my happiness from me. I am your wife. Why should I assume a resentment that will keep Pemberley and Rosings estranged? The only purpose I could have to encourage a persistence of this rupture would be so that I might enjoy some sort of ungracious triumph over Lady Catherine, and I hope I am better principled then that would imply. All I ask is that you consider reconciliation. I can look beyond her invective; it only remains whether or not you can as well. I am sure that her harsh words were aggravated by her disappointment and as the suffering of that disappointment abates she may become more reasonable."

Darcy began to pace the room again, clearly struggling. He paused by the open window for a moment before turning back toward Elizabeth and replying in a labored voice. "If I accept your reasoning then plainly I must accept some burden for that disappointment, in which case I am in some manner responsible for her behavior. Is it I then who have placed my own wife in a situation where she would be thus insulted?"

"I do not understand your construal. You are in no way responsible for her behavior or her insults."

"Is that true? If I reflect upon my behavior, in light of the disappointment you reference, it must be with dissatisfaction, because it follows that in some measure my behavior gave her grounds to insult you, the expectation that it was her right to abuse you, to abuse us both and to dishonor our union."

"You misapprehend my meaning. I do not mean to imply that her disappointment justifies her actions, merely that perhaps it can arouse some compassion. She certainly had no right to abuse me when I had done her no willful injury, and she just as certainly had no right to abuse you. There was no promise to honor."

"Absolutely not! Indeed, there was not even an understanding to be honored. I did, however, let it be supposed, and that for some time, that I was not wholly averse to the scheme. It suited my purposes as it freed me, if not from all, certainly from many unwanted attentions."

"Were you open to the scheme?"

"You who know me so intimately would ask that?" he replied, his voice and countenance expressing mortification-but whether mortification that it had been the case or that she would erroneously suppose it had been the case, Elizabeth could not discern. "I would never wish to speak ill of my cousin, but Anne is such a pale, sickly, cold creature. How could you imagine it so?"

Clearly uncomfortable with the topic and, to Elizabeth's mind, entirely too sensitive, Darcy turned toward the window again and looked out into the garden. Elizabeth walked across the room and stood behind him; she wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his back. Darcy grasped her hands within his own as they came around his waist.

"My love," Elizabeth said tenderly. "Do not torment yourself in such a manner. I am not disturbed by the revelation that you may have once considered your cousin as a possible wife. It would have been considered a sound match for you, so I see no disgrace in your having once held open the possibility." She asked him to turn and face her. "Now that we are married the recollection may seem distasteful, but then this-you and I--came upon us very unexpectedly. It is fair to assume that neither you nor I were wishing for this; we could not wish for what we did not know. Our prior behavior could not be measured for such an outcome as this. The behavior of no one, strictly examined, was without fault. Perhaps then we ought to let it remain in the past and you ought to seek a reconciliation. It is not right that you should remain divided from your mother's sister, nor that Georgiana should suffer for our quarrel."

Seeing that he was softening to her argument, she continued. "I always claimed a right to marry only a man I could love. I would not sacrifice myself for security. Yet, I did not truly understand love any more than you did, not love like this one that we share. So you see, Lady Catherine's disapprobation has no affect upon me, William, but this breach in relations does upon you. It is unnecessary, my love. I do not require it to understand that you honor and protect me."

Darcy gazed at her face for a moment until he raised his hand and caressed her cheek. "When you speak to me in such soft, gentle tones I can refuse you nothing."

"I shall be sure to always remember that," she replied as she lay her head against his chest and felt his arms wrap tenderly about her.

In the evening, as Elizabeth and Georgiana sat together in the music room, Darcy sent word that he required Mrs. Darcy's presence in his study. When Elizabeth entered Darcy was seated at his desk, staring at a paper, drumming his fingers. He looked up when he heard the door close behind her. Handing her the paper, he spoke without ceremony. "Would you be so kind as to read this? If you are satisfied with its contents I will post it tomorrow."

"Certainly," she said, taking a seat across from his desk.

June 18__
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Dear Lady Catherine,

I am writing to you upon the particular request of Mrs. Darcy who has encouraged me to invite you to wait upon us at Pemberley. You and I are both of forthright character so I will not disguise that I am reluctant to extend this invitation, as I remain deeply offended by the letter you sent on the occasion of my marriage and the sentiments expressed therein. Mrs. Darcy has prevailed upon me, nonetheless, to seek a reconciliation. She is of the conviction that Pemberley and Rosings should not remain estranged because of words expressed in anger and disappointment, however unjustly applied. While I cannot boast the same lack of resentment as Mrs. Darcy, I must acknowledge her wisdom and her generosity. You are, as she reminds me, my mother's sister, and if only in honor of her memory I must be the one to seek a return to our formerly good relations. My hope is that you will receive this gesture with all the sincerity and expectation with which it is sent. Let us leave our past grievances behind us and restore the goodwill that has long subsisted between our houses.

I will conclude by asserting that should you accept this application I do expect that you shall behave toward Mrs. Darcy with all of the respect and honor that is her due, not only as my wife, but also, in her own right, as a woman of exceptional character. If you will not, then we shall, regrettably, remain as we are.

Both you and my cousin will be welcomed at Pemberley graciously and warmly at your convenience.

Yours, etc.
Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth put down the letter and looked across the desk at her husband. Darcy was watching her with an unreadable expression, his jaw slightly clenched. "Must you make it all my doing?"

"Yes. If you wish a reconciliation it cannot be on false pretenses. She must be mindful that if she is welcomed at Pemberley it is only because you have sanctioned it."

"I do wish it."

"Then I shall post it, but be forewarned that if she comes she will likely be, if not uncivil, unrepentant."

"Then I shall apply that exceptional character you claim that I possess," she replied.

"You are a remarkable woman, Mrs. Darcy."

"I will not be so foolish as to argue the point with you," she laughed. "Now, come," she said, gesturing for him to join her as she made to exit his study. "Will you not sit with Georgiana and me? We have been practicing a delightful piece. What's more, tomorrow the Bingleys arrive and we shall not likely have such a quiet evening for many weeks."

"You see," he replied sullenly. "Just as I had foreseen. Every day you are lost to me a little more."

"Quite the contrary, my love," she replied, taking his hand and placing it against her heart. "Every day I am more yours."

Darcy smiled. "Perhaps, my precious wife, we might retire early this evening."

With an unashamed blush Elizabeth replied, "Perhaps."

Chapter 2: A family party, interrupted

Posted on Friday, 10 October 2003

"Molly, I think I would prefer the pale yellow," Elizabeth said to her maid, pointing to a simple, graceful muslin gown. "Much more appropriate for a picnic than the green one."

"Yes mistress," Molly replied. "There may be a breeze today, may I suggest that the yellow gown would be prettily complimented by the Spanish shawl the master recently gave you?"

"Oh yes it would, Molly. Please bring it."

"There now, how do I look?" Elizabeth inquired as Molly draped the elegant, fine shawl onto her shoulders. Before she could reply a deep voice came from across the room.

"Fetching, Mrs. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth cried. "How long have you been lurking there?" Darcy shrugged his shoulders, the hint of a smile on his lips. Leaning unceremoniously against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression warm, and his informal attire adding a certain softness to his mien, Elizabeth could not but silently observe that he himself looked rather fetching and found herself regretting the day's itinerary which would give them not a single occasion for privacy. At moments such as this she reflected that she had become quite shockingly immodest in her thoughts.

"Molly, that will be all, you may go now." As Molly left Mrs. Darcy's dressing room she espied Mr. Darcy approaching his wife with a roguish smile upon his face. Molly understood her responsibilities, and did in no way undervalue the trust the master and mistress displayed in her discretion by allowing her such small glimpses of their intimacy. The trust was not misplaced and Molly did not gossip; yet at moments like this her youthful sensibility could not help but discreetly observe to Mrs. Reynolds how devoted to each other were the master and mistress.

As the door shut behind Molly, Elizabeth turned to her husband with a generous and welcoming smile. "You really must stop making a habit of sneaking up on me unobserved so that you might watch me equally unobserved."

"I do not sneak, Elizabeth. If I am unobserved it is merely due to your own willful lack of attention, since you really are a remarkably observant woman. I would have to assume, consequently, that you rather enjoy that I sneak up on you in this manner. As to the matter of watching you, I simply cannot oblige you. Since our earliest acquaintance I have been unable to keep my eyes from you."

"So I recall," Elizabeth laughed. "All the while I thought you looked at me only to find fault."

"How very foolish of you." Darcy wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and smiled. "You fascinated me as Miss Bennet and you continue to fascinate me as Mrs. Darcy. Everything about you fascinates me." Lifting his hand he took hold of a curl that hung behind her ear. "Such as the manner in which this tiny curl always persists in escaping the confines of your hairpins."

"All this time I have thought myself fortunate to have such a sensible and clever husband. If you cannot explain why a little curl could possibly be a source of fascination I may have to reconsider."

"Nothing so simple. This little curl and its determination is just like your spirit." Elizabeth arched her eyebrows disbelievingly. "It cannot be contained. It will be independent, unbound, free. When I look upon it I see something so extraordinarily lovely that I must struggle to suppress my desire to touch it."

Darcy promptly demonstrated, kissing the curl before sinking his head down to that delectable expanse where neck and shoulder join and proceeding to kiss her warm and soft skin. "My Lizzy," he murmured. "My fetching, bewitching, fascinating Lizzy."

"Fitzwilliam!" She softly replied. Darcy adored it when she called him Fitzwilliam, and not William as his sister did. There was something alluring and tantalizing with promise in the manner in which she purred out the long syllables of his name, and as the only person to ever use it as such, something deliciously intimate as well. "Much as I am enjoying your attentions."

"Are you?" he interrupted.

"Very much indeed. You know I have become unspeakably immodest and do not hesitate to tell you frankly everything you make me feel."

He halted his attentions and looked her squarely in the eyes. "Immodest? What absurdity is this? When we are in the privacy of our chambers, when it is only you and I, society's regulations have no place. Had we not long ago agreed to that?"

"Yes, we had."

"In truth, even from our earliest acquaintance you and I have never really done anything as society would require it of us. We have been frank and open in every manner, two equal minds, two equal hearts, and, in the end, the better for it."

"Be that as it may," she replied with a wistful smile, "society's rule cannot be altogether forgotten. It would not do for us to leave our guests waiting upon us and I would surmise that if we do not make our way to the drawing room they will be doing precisely that."

"We are still just a family party, Elizabeth. We hardly need stand on such formality." She shook her head, amused by his persistence. "What is the point of being master if one must be subject to such strictures?" he remarked as she grasped his hand and pulled him toward the door.

"Such torments you must bear, Fitzwilliam Darcy!"

"Yes, torments Elizabeth," he lightheartedly responded as they stepped out into the hallway. "Delightful and delicious torments, I grant you."

Darcy and Elizabeth entered the drawing room to find Charles Bingley excitingly extolling the virtues of his wife to Georgiana Darcy, while said wife sat in placid reception of the same. "Poor Georgiana really must be growing tired of hearing the virtues of Jane," Elizabeth laughed. "Between you and I Charles there is no end. But I promise, Georgiana, the day will not be limited to the same. Once Miss Bingley arrives we will depart."

Miss Bingley's arrival was not punctual, yet it had a certain studied vigor. She swept into the drawing room in full regalia. Head high and with a general air of dominion, she considered the group briefly before declaring: "You all look absolutely charming this morning, so unaffectedly informal."

"We are going to picnic, after all." Darcy noted, as he considered Miss Bingley's quite inappropriate attire. But then, he reflected, for all her indisputable understanding of the fashionable, she had long shown a propensity toward an unbending formality of attire. He had never recognized before how ridiculously supercilious it could appear. Unconsciously he put his hand over Elizabeth's, where it rested neatly in the crook of his arm, and grasped it affectionately before announcing that the carriage was waiting.

Elizabeth had planned a picnic in a particularly picturesque spot at the edge of the estate: known as Cranston's lake, it was not really a lake, rather a large pond. The pond sat in a flat, shallow valley surrounded on the one side by a grouping of verdant trees and in the distance by the lovely Derbyshire peaks. Wild flowers in bright yellows and purples abundantly adorned the pond's circumference, and the valley itself was covered with a rich, thick carpet of grasses. When the party arrived at the site, the gentlemen on horseback and the ladies in carriage, they beheld a charming sight. A comfortable distance from the pond was laid out an enormous cotton mantle, sheltered from the sun by a billowing canopy. An impressive array of cold meats, cheeses, fruits, cakes and light wines were presented underneath with unaffected elegance. In total it had a slightly exotic air, like something from the fabled Arabian Nights.

Darcy dismounted from his horse and shook his head in pleasant disbelief. He had not been wholly inclined for a picnic, telling Elizabeth he much preferred taking his meals in a civilized fashion--sitting at his own table. "Man advanced from sitting on his haunches while consuming his meals quite some time ago," he had asserted. Elizabeth had only laughed at his aversion and prevailed upon him to indulge her.

"I say, Darcy," Bingley said as he stepped to Darcy's side. "Lizzy has outdone herself."

"Undeniably," he remarked. Approaching the carriage he handed the ladies out, and as Elizabeth exited he leaned in close to her and whispered, "I acknowledge my error, Elizabeth. There is nothing uncivilized about this at all. Indeed, it promises to be quite charming. May I offer my congratulations?"

She laughed happily. "Mr. Darcy, you really ought to learn the full capacity of Pemberley's staff. It is remarkable, given the opportunity, what imagination they possess."

"So I see, my dear."

The party sat down to a long, leisurely meal. The afternoon was magnificent, with mild temperature and an agreeable breeze. The setting and the near intimacy of the party encouraged an easy informality and the ladies, with the exception of Miss Bingley who wore one of her ubiquitous turbans, soon removed their bonnets and the two gentlemen lounged like stretched cats. Conversation was casual.

Miss Bingley took in the scene with interest. She had never seen Darcy so informal and relaxed, but more so, she was fascinated by the differing behavior of the two married couples before her. Both had been, undeniably, marriages of affection, and yet that affection was displayed so differently as to be worthy of note. She had long found her brother's manner with Jane overly solicitous, too obvious and inelegant. The unvarying, unguarded references to her beauty, her sweetness, to her being his very angel were tiresome to hear and seemed to somehow diminish the value of the words, if not the sentiments. It was the sort of behavior she was wont to mock with her friends when gentlemen chose their affections over their interests, leaving them all to conclude that a marriage of interests in which the parties were compatible was far more desirable. In Darcy, however, to both her relief and her consternation, she saw something different. She could not have borne to see the man she still admired show himself a fool in love; his marriage itself had been sufficiently mortifying. His manner of showing affection for his wife did not disappoint her expectations, and she saw a restrained, careful attention to his wife's needs and wants, a subtle, delicate profusion of tenderness that surprised her in a man she was long accustomed to admire for his aloof formality. And she could not deny that Mrs. Darcy returned an equally tender, equally unobtrusive regard. Their mutual affection was, to her continued vexation, as unmistakable as that between her brother and his wife, and yet it was not at all obvious and seemed therefore, to her mind, more precious. Before she had time to feel again the loss of such a man, and before her old resentment toward the former Miss Bennet could be reborn by such reflections, she did what her sister had counseled to ensure continued admittance to Pemberley-she took sanctuary in civility.

"Mrs. Darcy, may I offer my compliments. You have provided us with a most delightful afternoon."

"Thank you, Miss Bingley. I trust it has been agreeable to all."

"Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley continued, "all the times I have visited Pemberley you have never brought your guests to this delightful spot. It really is very quaint."

"I rediscovered this lake, so to speak, while touring the park with Mrs. Darcy. It has quickly become a favorite spot for us both."

"I believe this is also the very first time I have been on a picnic at Pemberley, is that not correct Charles? Can you recall a picnic before?"

"Not at the moment," he replied indifferently.

"A picnic is such a charming country activity." Miss Bingley had the unfortunate propensity of sounding insincere even at those moments in which she wished to be sincere. She was so concerned with her interest and her position within society that her calculation sadly diminished her not unsubstantial advantages: she was, after all, a handsome and well-educated lady, a clever and experienced hostess, capable of charm, and, not of little importance, in possession of a fortune worth twenty thousand pounds. Regrettably, her ambition was, visibly, her dominant trait, so that her arts were often obvious and in that obviousness often lay her certain failure. In this instance she had intended to compliment Elizabeth; the result had been less then successful.

"Yes, well, we are in the country, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth replied archly. "And on a most splendid day. Would anyone care to take a turn with me along the water's edge?"

Miss Bingley opted to remain under the canopy and out of the sun and encouraged Georgiana to do the same. Darcy and Bingley understood their wives might enjoy a private walk and so declined as well. As Elizabeth and Jane rose from the picnic and made their way across the field and toward the lake, Darcy observed them in thoughtful silence.

"Such thoughtfulness will not do at a picnic, Darcy," Bingley finally interjected. "What could possibly have you so serious now?"

Darcy smiled good-naturedly at his friend's mirth. "I am thinking about your future, Bingley."

"My future? Why I think that is all decided now, yours too, these past eight months," Bingley laughed.

"You are wrong. My future is certainly decided, yours, however, is not."

"You can be so cryptic when you choose. Whatever do you mean?"

Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth and Jane. They walked with their heads slightly inclined one toward the other; they spoke easily and an atmosphere of contentment surrounded them. "Bingley," Darcy said at last, "Why don't you give up Netherfield altogether?"

"Give up Netherfield? Now? When I have just resigned the lease?"

"Yes. Give it up entirely. Purchase a property here in the north. What better gift could you give your wife then a home close to Elizabeth?"

Bingley sat up in surprise, his mouth dropping open as he contemplated the suggestion. He too turned his attentions to the sisters as they continued their stroll. Just at that moment a silly giggle could be heard wading in the air. "What a splendid notion, Darcy. Why had I not thought of it myself?"

Miss Bingley, who, along with her sister Louisa, had long desired that her brother purchase his own estate, immediately seconded Darcy's suggestion. Directly assuming the argument, she began to enumerate the many reasons why he should leave Netherfield for the north. Wisely she emphasized Jane's certain happiness were she close to her most beloved sister and did not mention what would be her own source of personal delight, to be far from the mortifying Mrs. Bennet-she could hardly invite her acquaintances to her brother's country estate when that woman's constant presence was assured. Miss Bingley had no difficult task in truth, for Bingley was certain, now he thought on it, that given the choice, Jane would prefer to be closer to Elizabeth than to Longbourn.

Seeing Miss Bingley entertained in discourse, Georgiana stood and approached her own brother. "Will you walk with me?" she asked as she held out her hand.

"It would be my pleasure." Darcy stood, taking her hand and affectionately placing it upon his arm as they began to walk together at a leisurely pace. Darcy absently noticed that she seemed a little taller and wondered when she would stop growing. She was becoming a handsome and sensible young lady, unpretentious and elegant, and he was immensely proud of her. What pleased him most, however, was a certain lightness of bearing that he detected in her air for the first time.

"Is my darling girl enjoying herself on this splendid afternoon?"

"Very much. I wonder we never thought before to have a picnic here."

"I think Elizabeth has opened our eyes to many possibilities, has she not? I suppose we were a bit of a sober pair on our own for so many years."

"Perhaps given our circumstances and characters it was inevitable."

"Perhaps," Darcy replied.

They continued to stroll for a time in the companionable silence that was so often their custom. "You will think me silly, brother," Georgiana suddenly remarked. "I am almost envious of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bingley."

"Did Mrs. Bingley not request that you call her Jane?"

"Very well. Elizabeth and Jane."

"Better. Now, tell me, why would my dear sister, who is all kindness, feel something as mean as envy?" His tone was mild, yet Georgiana knew him disappointed with the sentiment expressed.

"Their accord is palpable," she replied after a moment.

"Does not Elizabeth adore you and does not your brother dote upon you?"

"You must think me an ungrateful sister."

"I think nothing of the kind. Pray, Georgiana, explain. I would wish for you to feel you can always confide in me. You have done so in the past."

"Do not misapprehend. You are the dearest and best brother a sister could desire. As regards Elizabeth, I dare claim that she has been as much a source of happiness for me as she has been for you." The expression that spread across Darcy's face upon hearing this avowal clearly revealed how dubiously he viewed said assertion. "Well, perhaps not as much," Georgiana smiled sweetly. "I can affirm, however, that you, who have always given me my every wish, have also given me as a sister someone I have grown to admire and regard as sincerely as you yourself could wish me to."

"I am pleased. I could not be happy at your expense, Georgiana. I still do not comprehend your initial statement, however. Will you not explain?"

Gesturing toward the sisters as they continued their stroll, she explained: "Can you not see when they are together the deep understanding, the confidence and trust? It is something that cannot be born from a moment's acquaintance, but only from a life shared. Although I have found in Elizabeth a true friend and confidant, indeed a sister in every manner, they clearly share a bond of unusual strength. I should have liked to know such an openness and trust."

"With me you do not feel such openness and trust?" Darcy inquired, wounded by the possibility.

"William, I am afraid I am explaining myself very ill. You I trust as none other, implicitly, entirely. Although you claimed otherwise after that disgraceful Ramsgate incident, the truth is that you have never once failed me. Yet it is only natural that you and I should not have the same intimacy they so evidently share, even should we have desired it so. They are sisters and close in age; whereas I am a sister more than ten years my brother's junior. After all you have been more father to me than brother. Perhaps I use 'envious' inaccurately. I admire their unity and would wish to be fortunate enough to experience such closeness myself."

As Georgiana finished speaking she looked at her brother with a gentle, affectionate smile. Her soft blue eyes held the same timid, docile expression as always, and yet in her face he saw something less girlish than usual, and in her tone a new maturity. Spontaneously Darcy leaned over and kissed her on the cheek while softly squeezing the hand that rested upon his arm.

"To what do I owe such tenderness?" she inquired.

"Because you are dearer to me than words can express, Georgiana. And because you are no longer the frightened little girl who came to me seeking comfort when her father died and did not know that she was a greater comfort to me than I could ever hope to be for her. Perhaps, Georgiana, it is time I become a little less father and a little more brother and we can learn to share more confidences."

"I should like that very much, my dearest brother." Her eyes grew teary with emotion and she leaned her head against his shoulder just as she had when she was just such a frightened girl.

The display of tenderness did not go unobserved. "What a pretty picture they make," Jane remarked as she continued arm-in-arm with Elizabeth around the water's edge.

"They are devoted to each other, Jane. Sometimes, when I see them together, tender as they are now, I remember how horribly I once misjudged him and I feel such pangs of remorse."

"That is not like you at all Lizzy. Did you not tell me that in cases such as these a good memory is unpardonable?" Jane laughed.

"Indeed it is Jane. I suppose I love him so very dearly now that I am angry with myself for having ever caused him pain. Now when I truly understand the depth of his affections, the generosity of his heart, I am ashamed."

"I am very surprised at you Lizzy. You have never been one inclined toward melancholy or recrimination."

"Oh, do not be concerned Jane. I say this now in passing only to you. Once I told Mr. Darcy how mortified I was by my past cruelty and he grew quite angry with me, insisting that all the fault was his. He would not have me castigating myself, for while my opinions had been formed on mistaken premises, his behavior had been at fault. He would not allow me any fault at all."

"Naturally he would not, he loves you Lizzy. That is plain for anyone to see from the manner in which he looks at you and cares for you. He does not show his regard in any undue manner, he is discreet and proper, but it is nevertheless evident. Charles has said that he is still a little startled when he sees you and Darcy together."

"Startled, Jane?"

"Startled by the change he has seen in Mr. Darcy."

"In what manner?"

"As you are aware Charles and Mr. Darcy became acquainted with each other after the elder Mr. Darcy had died. Charles tells me that Mr. Darcy was always the cleverest man in the room, sharp and witty. He was the envy of many men-rich, handsome, his own master, and with an enviable air of command and decisiveness. But Charles was struck by a certain almost secret sadness in his eyes, something he never had the courage to discuss with Mr. Darcy himself, but which drew Charles to him. That sadness, he insists, is now gone and it gives to Mr. Darcy's countenance a different, slightly softened appearance, and it startles him as he has not yet grown accustomed to it. He is delighted for his friend."

Elizabeth did not respond, instead she turned her gaze upon her husband and his sister and watched them walking peacefully together across the park. She smiled and turned to Jane. "If you are half as happy as I am Jane, then we are both very fortunate women."

"I can not measure your happiness against my own Lizzy. Indeed, we each have our own character and so we have our own manner of happiness. Yet I suspect that we are both happier than we ever imagined we could be when we would sit together at night and share our dreams."

"All I would require for perfect happiness would be to have you closer. We shall always be at Pemberley, but Netherfield is no legacy for Charles. Can you not encourage him to purchase an estate in the north? Can you imagine, Jane, if, in addition to every other happiness, we were near?"

"That would answer my every wish. In truth, I am a little ashamed to confess that at times I feel I am too near to some and too far away from others. Am I ungenerous for such thoughts, unkind?"

"You have more patience then you ought. I have read your letters with your tales of daily visits from Mama and Aunt Philips and I am recalled to an odd little conversation Mr. Darcy and I once had-or at least it seemed odd at the time, now it seems so obvious that I wonder at my lack of perception. In any case, we were discussing whether it might be possible for a woman to be settled too near her family. I am now of the firm conviction that it is and you should not be ashamed to acknowledge it so. I have no scruples in acknowledging it better for all that it be you and Charles, with your easy natures, who are settled three miles from Longbourn and that Mr. Darcy and I are settled three days from Longbourn."

"I think you perhaps give Charles and me too much credit, and Mr. Darcy and yourself not enough."

"Perhaps. Yet when I was reading your letters and found myself delightfully installed far away at Pemberley I could not be but grateful. So you see, I am the one who is unkind, not you. But I have a solution. If you cannot convince Charles to give up Netherfield, you could always come and spend months upon months here at Pemberley. After all, it's so enormous we might lose you completely from sight for days."

"Lizzy! I have so missed you," Jane laughed. "I must acknowledge I was surprised when we first came over the hill and saw the house itself and I did find it enormous. Not a single description I have heard does merit to Pemberley's grandeur. You seemed to have settled on 'beautiful', Charles on 'impressive', and of course Caroline has long proclaimed it the embodiment of elegance. My Father, of course, was even more circumspect. All he would say when he returned from visiting Pemberley was that you had done quite well for yourself and that your Mr. Darcy appeared, in his own particular manner, very devoted."

"Oh Jane, many days I awaken and I cannot believe that I am the mistress of so much. I think I must have dreamt it all, the wonderful husband, the beautiful grounds, the elegant rooms. But then I turn my head and see my darling husband sleeping at my side and I am returned to the reality of my great fortune."

"Does he always sleep with you then?" Jane asked softly, surprising herself at the inquiry.

"Yes, Jane. What will you think? I would have it no other way. Are you shocked?"

"Not at all. Merely surprised."

"And why should you be surprised?"

"Just that he is so formal and correct in everything he does. And that appears a rather informal choice." Jane stopped and blushed. "Forgive me Lizzy. We should not be discussing this."

"Why ever not? It is only between you and I. It is true that Mr. Darcy is formal, correct, often reserved in company. But when we are alone, oh Jane! When we are alone he is all tenderness, affection and candor. Even playful, if you can imagine. That he behaves in such a manner only when alone with me gratifies me most foolishly." Elizabeth stopped walking and turned to face her sister. She took Jane's hands into her own, her face aglow with feeling. "Jane! Jane! Do you not feel as though you love Charles more now than when you married him? As though each day you feel your heart expanding from the love that overwhelms it, from that delicious, beguiling mixture of peacefulness and passion."

"Not precisely," Jane smiled sweetly, amused by Elizabeth's ardent expression. "I have always felt the same constant and deep regard for Charles; I cannot say that it has altered. But then, we are very different creatures you and I. Charlotte always said that you were the romantic one and you would laugh at her, but I begin to suspect that she may have been correct after all. We both feel deeply and faithfully, Lizzy, but you have always been more passionate and I more serene in the execution of the same."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, a little embarrassed by her outburst of emotion. "Before I expose myself more, perhaps we had better return to the rest of our party. The afternoon is drawing to a close." Jane smiled and the sisters embraced warmly before rejoining the others.

That evening the party was gathered in the yellow drawing room used during the warmer summer months. The doors were opened wide onto a terrace that overlooked the park and a gentle breeze cooled and refreshed the room. After the pleasant afternoon by Cranston's lake, they were indulging in an equally calm and informal evening. Georgiana and Jane were sitting together and quietly chatting while each worked on a piece of embroidery, whilst the remaining four played cards. Elizabeth was highly amused by Miss Bingley's persistent compliments to the excellence of Mr. Darcy's game.

"I am so fortunate to be partnered with you this evening, Mr. Darcy. You are consistently an astute and challenging competitor. You really must explain to me the reasoning behind some of the more daring plays you have made."

"Yes, my dear Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth remarked mischievously. "You really are making a mockery of our game, is that not so Charles? But I am sure, sir, that you would credit Miss Bingley for equally excellent play."

"Naturally," he replied indifferently. His wife was finding the spectacle far too amusing and he really loathed playing with a partner that could not remain quiet and focused on the game. The hand completed, he therefore suggested they forego another round.

"But this has been so delightful," Miss Bingley replied. "Shall we not play another hand? Pray, Mr. Darcy, will you not indulge me? I do so enjoy a challenging game of cards."

"I really must decline, Miss Bingley. However, your relish for cards will be easily satisfied soon enough. The remainder of our party will arrive in two days time and you will then have ample sources of competition." Darcy bowed and removed to another part of the room where he took up a book.

"Perhaps you will indulge me in another matter, Mrs. Darcy. I am curious as to who and how many make up the party that is to join us."

"Certainly. There will be five, possibly six. Sir Patrick MacLaighid, who as you know is the Member of Parliament for Donegal. Mr. and Mrs. Edward Ashton, Mr. and Mrs. John Thorney, who, if we are fortunate, may be accompanied by the young painter Mr. John Constable. Mr. Constable is currently working on a commission for Mr. and Mrs. Thorney, painting Alresford Hall. We would like him to paint Pemberley for us."

"I did not know you were a connoisseur of painting, Mrs. Darcy."

"I am not. However, we did see some of his works while we were in Town at the homes of some acquaintances and found them very appealing."

"A painter and an Irish Member, how curious." Miss Bingley remarked, unable to fathom such a motley combination and curious to see how the party would interact.

"Since we are no longer to play cards, Miss Bingley, would you pleasure us with a song at the pianoforte?" Elizabeth responded, imperturbable to anything Miss Bingley insinuated, intentionally or otherwise. She had certainly shown an effort to treat her with more civility than had been her habit when she was just Miss Bennet, and so she was determined to return the civility for Jane's sake, as well as Georgiana's, who seemed, if not deeply attached to her, accustomed to her. Otherwise she could not abide her tiresome snobbery. As Miss Bingley sat down to oblige Elizabeth's request, Matthews, the butler, entered the room.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy."

"Yes Matthews, what is it?"

"A gentleman has called and is waiting upon you in the blue drawing room."

"At this hour? Did he not give his name, Matthews?"

"Yes sir. Lord Chiltern."

The expression of astonishment that spread across Darcy's often inscrutable face could not be disguised. "Lord Chiltern! Are you certain he said Lord Chiltern?"

"Yes sir. His card, sir." Darcy took the proffered card and stared at it for a moment in silence.

"Tell him I shall be there directly."

"You are acquainted with Lord Chiltern, Darcy?" Bingley inquired excitedly.

"Yes, I am."

"Is it the Lord Chiltern?"

"I know of only one, Bingley," he groused.

"May I go with you, Darcy?"

"I should prefer to attend him in private." Turning to Elizabeth, he remarked, with a vague anticipation of disarray: "Mrs. Darcy, it is possible we shall have another guest. I am not certain."

"Lord Chiltern, well, I'll be." Bingley mumbled as Darcy exited the room.

"You have both reacted to this gentleman's name with great emotion, Charles. Who is Lord Chiltern?" Elizabeth asked.

"I know of Lord Chiltern, Lizzy, but I am not acquainted with him. Indeed, I had no notion that Darcy was. He has a reputation among the Clubs as an adventurer. That is all I know."

A general sense of curiosity settled about the drawing room as they awaited Darcy's return, and with it an explanation to this peculiar interruption to their family party.

Chapter 3

Posted on Tuesday, 14 October 2003

Darcy walked slowly down the passageway toward the blue drawing room where, evidently, Lord Chiltern was awaiting his arrival. He had not been aware that Chiltern had returned to England and could not fathom why, if he had, he should present himself at Pemberley of all places, and at such an eccentric hour. As he reached his hand to the door handle he had a quickly passing recollection of Chiltern as a young man: vibrant, clever, unbridled in manner and intent, recounting, with that marked capacity for storytelling that he possessed, yet another argument with the late Earl regarding some recent misadventure. Darcy entered the blue drawing room and was presented with the back of a short and powerfully built man. Without turning at the sound of the door closing behind Darcy, the man began to speak, his voice a clear, strong, mellow baritone. "I took the liberty of pouring myself a brandy, Darcy. Would you like one as well?"

"No." Darcy replied unceremoniously, waiting for the gentleman to turn and face him. When he did so Darcy was astonished by the transformation he saw therein. Chiltern's face was tanned, taut skinned and withered, and he wore a full, ungainly beard. He looked, instead of a few years Darcy's senior, as he was, a full twenty years older.

"Why Darcy!" Chiltern intoned boisterously, his large voice easily filling the expanse of the large, high-ceilinged room. "You have grown into a marvelously strapping man. When last I saw you, you were far more, what is the word?" He paused in search of the word, flapping his hands inelegantly through the air. "Lanky, I would say. Yes. Lanky."

"It has been several years, Chiltern. Time enough for both of us to have altered in our appearance."

At Darcy's suggestive remark Chiltern smiled, a large toothy smile, and a playful gleam came into his eyes that Darcy could at last recognize. "Yes, many years. And look at me now. A veritable savage!"

"You have looked more kempt, certainly." Darcy remarked as he came forward with his hand outstretched.

"Were you always this tall?" Chiltern inquired as they shook hands. "Or has all the heat of the Amazon shrunk me?"

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Always pointed! On my way to Edinburgh. May I sit?" Lord Chiltern threw himself into the nearest chair with relish and took a large sip of brandy. "Excellent!" He exclaimed. "But then the Darcys always did have an uncanny aptitude for discerning the truly good over the merely fine. How refreshing that we can trust in the consistency of some people in this world." Chiltern's words were easy and confident, but Darcy was struck by the alien nervousness in his bearing, even more so than by his disheveled appearance and abrupt manners.

"Pemberley is not precisely in the direct route from London to Edinburgh," Darcy observed.

"Not precisely, no, but not too far off," Chiltern responded, offering nothing.

"Will you be staying then?"

"If you'll have me Darcy. I will most gratefully impose."

"Our families have a long association, Chiltern. You hardly need ask. My wife and I would welcome your company."

"Your wife? Why of course! I should have supposed you would be married by now. Long married, I presume."

"Only these eight months now."

"That cousin of yours they were trying to marry you off to?"

"No."

"Some Earl's daughter then. Perhaps even, with your fortune and figure, a Duke's daughter."

"No."

"Reticent as always."

"Curious as always."

"An heiress then?"

"My wife is the daughter of a modest gentleman from the southern counties."

"Well, I'll be the devil! You were one of the chaps slated for the most eligible of girls on the marriage market. The marriage of the season yours was meant to be. How you must have disappointed the denizens of our fine society."

"I can assure you I did not marry to satisfy anyone but myself," Darcy replied coolly.

"I rather admire you if you took one you actually liked. So many of our set never bother with that little point."

"How unfortunate for them."

"Am I very abrupt?" Chiltern suddenly inquired, taking another long sip of brandy. "You will have to forgive me. Too many years in the wilds I fear."

"So it would seem," Darcy replied dryly, to which Chiltern laughed delightedly. He had a robust and pleasing laugh.

"That's what I always liked about you Darcy, your dry, mordant wit. I know none other who can be so perfectly dignified and perfectly fiendish as you. Most people never did catch on though as I recall; you are so deceptively proper they miss the man you are altogether. In any case, if you'll have me, I should so like to retire for the evening. Your man said you had a few guests. Don't ask me into the drawing room. I've had a devil of a day and could not possibly be a credit to my name."

"I should never compel you into any society," Darcy responded sardonically. "If you are to be a guest under my roof, however, you must, at the very least, be introduced to my wife."

"Oh yes, very well. Bring her here then." Darcy stared at him for a moment in palpable astonishment at Chiltern's ostensible dismissal of his wife; Chiltern perceived his error. "I told you I've been in the wilds too long Darcy. I have forgotten the few manners I ever possessed. You must recall how my mother would rattle on about my distressing lack of decorum."

"Yes. I do seem to recall that both she and the late Earl had much cause for concern."

"But I am not a hopeless case, I am an Earl after all. These three years I think; I hardly remember." He bowed his head slightly. "It would be my honor to make your wife's acquaintance, but may I request that I do so here, in private?"

"You have grown more irreverent than ever. I should have thought it impossible!"

"Nothing in this world is impossible, Darcy. Nothing at all."

"I shall send for Mrs. Darcy."

The gentlemen stood as Elizabeth entered the room. Upon beholding this disheveled, untidy gentleman next to her always fastidiously attired husband her eyes were immediately alight with mirth; the comparison was stark and she struggled, with little success, to contain a cheeky smile.

"Mrs. Darcy, may I introduce Lord Chiltern. We have been acquainted with one another all our lives. His father and my uncle were intimate friends, as were our grandfathers before them."

"So you are Darcy's wife!" Chiltern roared as he bowed, rather messily, to Elizabeth. "I have always had a peculiar fondness for Darcy, although I suspect he would not pay me the same compliment. If I may say, the sight of you rather surprises me. Commanding fellow he can be I'd have thought him married to some horribly proper, frightened creature. I can see he has selected for himself a fiery little wife and so he must indeed be as independent minded as I had always hoped he would become. Too much gray matter to waste on being predictable and you, I gather, were an unpredictable choice."

"Lord Chiltern!" Darcy admonished, appalled at his familiarity. "You are mistaken if you believe you may address my wife in the same unguarded manner in which you are accustomed to addressing me!"

Elizabeth, however, found him incredibly amusing and only wished she could share this oddity of a little man with her father. Briefly touching Darcy's arm in reassurance, she responded to Chiltern in an equally bold manner. "I am not certain, Lord Chiltern, whether I am to be flattered or slighted by your commentary."

"I would hope you are flattered. I have not survived the wilds of the Argentine and the Amazon without learning to be a quick judge of character and you are clearly a spirited and intelligent lass. I saw it the moment you walked through that door. It's in your carriage, but mostly I can see it in the eyes. Poets are usually wrong, shoddy fellows that they are, but they were right about the eyes. Everything is always revealed in the eyes."

"I have not always found first impressions reliable, Lord Chiltern. I trust you have better success at it than I."

"My first impressions never fail me and you have just proven me right again! Now, as I was telling Darcy here before you entered, I've had a devil of a day and would be much obliged for immediate rest. I trust you will not be offended if I bypass the drawing room this evening."

"Not at all, sir. Let me ring for the housekeeper and she will escort you to your room."

As Lord Chiltern followed Mrs. Reynolds out of the room, Elizabeth turned to Darcy with an expression of absolute bewilderment. Before she could speak, Darcy threw up his hands as evidence of his own bafflement.

"He is gone wild Elizabeth. He was always a singular fellow; still, I hardly recognize him for the young man I knew. His appearance is quite out of the ordinary and I am not sure why he has come down upon us. He was not forthcoming. As I said earlier, we have been acquainted all our lives, but we were never uncommonly friendly. At this hour, however, I could not do other then offer him our roof."

"Naturally. He is a terribly peculiar gentleman, but he is also, I would conjecture, a clever one."

"I have rarely encountered one more clever. He can spin a tale with impressive skill. I should imagine," he added dryly, "after spending these last seven or eight years in the Argentine he has acquired, along with his peculiar manner, an abundance of material."

"Well, then, nothing to be bothered about, my dear. If one must have an unexpected guest, so much the better that he be interesting."

Darcy smiled, amused by her insouciance at having such a singular guest thrust upon her household. "Indeed, so much the better," he replied, offering his arm as they returned to the yellow drawing room where he was immediately barraged with enthusiastic inquiries from the Bingley siblings.

"Enough!" Darcy finally cried, "You shall judge for yourselves at breakfast."

By the time breakfast was over on the following morning, Miss Bingley was severely disappointed. Having spent a fair share of the night contemplating the possibilities of an unattached Earl--for she had learnt that, to the best of Darcy's knowledge, he was indeed unattached--she unhappily found the mysterious Lord Chiltern to be a full head shorter than herself and endowed with an air decidedly lacking in regulation. These failings she might have overlooked had not he also, more to her irritation, shown a swift, indisputable and obvious delight in conversing with Mrs. Darcy, almost to the exclusion of the entire gathered party. Miss Bingley resolved, however, that it would behoove her more to comprehend Mrs. Darcy than to resent her, and she would set out to do just that, watching her and analyzing her with an open, impartial, dispassionate eye. Recalling the past London season she was retrospectively intrigued by the manner in which Mrs. Darcy had been received.

The ladies had been diverse in their assessment of the woman who had captured the gentleman not a few had pursued with greater or lesser degrees of eagerness and fidelity. Disappointed and disinterested ladies alike could all agree that she was witty and intelligent. They could not agree, however, on the extent of her beauty, her sense of fashion, the relative merits of her independence of character, nor on the degree of talent she possessed at the pianoforte. Those most reasonable and most disinterested concluded of Mrs. Darcy as follows: she was pretty, without being unduly so; she was possessed of a simple, unpretentious elegance that probably suited Mr. Darcy who was himself known for his understated sophistication; her independence of mind, thought and carriage, while admirable, were in no way fashionable; her talent at the pianoforte charmingly unaffected, but by no means capital. She was, in short, acknowledged to be very much out of the common way, but whether that was good or bad depended entirely on the woman appraising her. Jane, in fact, had been more admired by the ladies; she was uniformly described as very pretty and very sweet, quite a suitable match for the genial Mr. Bingley.

In complete contrast, the gentlemen had been mixed in their appraisal of Jane-while all found her pretty, what some found a sweetness of character others found slightly insipid. The gentlemen, however, had been uniformly and unambiguously charmed by Mrs. Darcy, and evidently considered Mr. Darcy to have found himself, if not perhaps an excellent connection, which he was really not in any want of, an excellent wife, in and of herself. And here was Lord Chiltern, yet another charmed gentleman. As Miss Bingley's primary concern continued to be the satisfaction of her ambitions through a successful marriage--ideally one as exceptional in its own right as was that of the former Miss Bennet-she was more concerned with charming the gentlemen, at this juncture, and not so concerned with what the ladies might think. She determined, therefore, to understand the nature of Mrs. Darcy's charm. Her first acknowledgement, as she listened closely to the conversation as it passed between Lord Chiltern and Mrs. Darcy, was that she really was remarkably clever and quick, and this quickness of mind, devoid of any acerbity, seemed to be what his lordship, and certainly Darcy before him, found so appealing.

Lord Chiltern's admiration had not gone unnoticed by Darcy either. Indeed, while his vanity had been secretly flattered by the admiration Elizabeth had garnered while they were in London and while he had felt an uncharacteristic sense of triumph with each honest expression of congratulations where his aunt had envisaged scorn, Lord Chiltern's slightly savage and yet curiously appealing manner grated on his serenity, and he felt not a secretly flattered vanity but an unfamiliar discomfort. Before he could brood upon the manifest pleasure with which his wife attended upon Lord Chiltern's soliloquy of adventures, Matthews entered the breakfast room and handed Darcy a small silver tray upon which sat a just arrived express.

Although Elizabeth was indeed finding his lordship's adventures diverting and his capacity for oratory even more so, the expression on Darcy's face as he read the express did not go unnoticed by her. Like a curtain drawn, his expression was abruptly impenetrable and dark; his face was still, with the telling exception of slightly flaring nostrils.

"Nothing serious I hope, Darcy?" Bingley inquired innocently as he cut his ham.

"No." He replied tersely. "This is not an unanticipated communication." Darcy calmly folded the letter and placed it into his breast pocket. He looked meaningfully to Elizabeth and continued with his breakfast, remaining quiet and sullen for the duration.

Once finished, he spoke in a voice Elizabeth now recognized as one of controlled displeasure. He happily had not used this voice often since they wed, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. "Bingley, I will need to attend to this express," he remarked pulling the correspondence from his pocket and flashing it as explanation. "Will you oblige me and show Lord Chiltern to the stables. It is a fine morning for a ride. I am sure, Lord Chiltern, you would appreciate the exercise."

"Oh I am in no want of exercise, Darcy." Lord Chiltern responded. "After so many years traversing jungles and mountains I'd rather take a more indolent approach if I might. I have had about enough of vigorous exercise, I dare say. Society is another matter altogether and I do not recall being in more pleasing and enchanting society in ever so much time than I have been this morning," he added, looking frankly and openly at Elizabeth. "Mrs. Darcy, would you care for a lazy stroll about the gardens?"

Sitting, as was her custom during the breakfast hour, at Darcy's side, she was vaguely aware of his clenching jaw in response to Chiltern's casual invitation. "Thank you, but no, Lord Chiltern. Might I encourage you to join Mr. Bingley? While I am finding your stories compelling, I do have some business with my housekeeper this morning that can not be delayed and so must forego the pleasure."

"You will promise me your company later this afternoon then? I have only just begun the telling."

Elizabeth blushed mildly and felt an uncomfortable inclination to indulge the manner of his address, despite the unguarded familiarity of it, and felt as though she were, against her better judgment, once again too quickly susceptible to the powers of an open countenance and easy repartee. "I am sure we would all be delighted to be regaled with more tales over tea."

"Let us go then, Lord Chiltern, while the morning is young," Bingley cried, sensing the discomfort of both Elizabeth and Darcy. Darcy immediately followed the gentlemen out of the room and retired to his study.

"So that is Lord Chiltern!" Miss Bingley declared as the ladies were left to themselves, her secret hopes for a desirable match completely washed away with the morning tea.

"So it would seem," Elizabeth replied. "And a more loquacious gentleman I defy you to find, Miss Bingley. Regardless of our relative enthusiasm on the subject, I fear we shall all be experts on the Argentine ere long." To which the two old rivals shared an honest, amused laugh.

"He is an enthusiastic gentleman," Jane remarked. "Yet he is certainly in possession of a certain charm, I think."

"I found him rather shocking in his manner and appearance," Georgiana offered timidly.

"Earls, my dear Georgiana, lords and ladies in general, for that matter, are never shocking," Elizabeth responded archly. "They are, instead, charmingly exceptional."

"The immunity of title," Miss Bingley added scathingly, as much to her own surprise as that of her companions.

The four ladies shared another cup of tea together, quietly discussing concerns wholly unconnected to adventures in the Argentine, until Elizabeth excused herself claiming the need to attend to some household matters.

She went directly to Darcy's study, eager to confirm her suspicion that Lady Catherine had responded, and that not very favorably, to Darcy's invitation. She entered without knocking on the door. Elizabeth found Darcy seated at his desk, chair turned toward the window, legs crossed, his elbow resting on the armrest, his hand nervously rubbing his lower lip. Staring fixedly out the window, he looked peculiarly friendless and decidedly displeased. Elizabeth walked over to the window and observed him for a moment without speaking.

As though he had been awaiting her arrival, Darcy took the correspondence from his pocket and handed it to her. "I imagine she sent it express to underscore the urgency of her continued disapprobation. After you read this perhaps you would be so kind as to remind me why I am attempting to reconcile with this woman." His tone was even, but the mingled resentment and disillusionment he felt was evident enough to Elizabeth.

July 18__
Rosings Park, Kent

Dear Nephew,

I am relieved to see you sufficiently restored to your sense of obligation and duty as to seek reconciliation with your mother's sister. It cannot go unnoted, however, that had you never taken leave of such sense as would always have ensured fidelity to said duty this breach could have never occurred. Your resentment is therefore hardly one I can credit. You should have anticipated what occurred and humbly accepted such recriminations as were my duty to provide at such an unfortunate moment, a duty I possess not only as one of your nearest relations but in this particular case also as an offended party. That said; I am not ashamed to acknowledge the pleasure of receiving such a gesture as that which you have offered. What a disappointment that it should be expressed with such impertinence. I see you have learned something from your wife after all! Nevertheless, I trust you remain sensible enough to what is good to ensure that Georgiana will not fall under such an impression that said attitude is at all permissible in a young lady of her rank. That you have so obviously embraced such manners is something I will simply be required to accept as a tragic singularity of character in an otherwise excellent man, your recent defiance of all that was expected of you notwithstanding. All this being understood, I only add that I will not be reproached for my behavior by any person, much less will I allow such anticipatory reproach as you have offered. That is an impudence of such shocking proportions as I am most certainly not accustomed to tolerating; I have no intention of establishing such a standard. Therefore, I cannot, at this time, give a favorable response to the tendered offer.

Yours etc.,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Elizabeth folded the letter and wished only to remark on the absurdity of such a dispatch. Before she could speak, however, Darcy said, in the same restrained tone as earlier: "Pray, Elizabeth, how should you have me respond? I am for leaving relations as they are, but I assume you will attempt to persuade me otherwise, despite the fact that she continues to insult you."

"She did not really insult me in this letter," Elizabeth replied. "I think it was more of a direct attack on you, my dear. Nevertheless, she has softened. Why not make another effort?"

"Let us not waste time and words on the same argument we have had these many weeks now. I concede preemptively. What would you have me say?"

Elizabeth looked at Darcy for a moment before responding; his features were set in disapprobation, distaste and disappointment. She was not averse to foregoing the entire effort. Although she believed a reconciliation was right in principal, she was growing weary of the inharmonious moments the realization of that principal seemed to require they suffer, and she, after all, had no personal wish to ever again see the exalted Lady Catherine. Nevertheless, she sallied forth. "Perhaps you might simply offer that, as you each clearly comprehend the other's opinion on this matter, you will not continue to argue where the greater share of blame lies, that you renew your invitation for her and your cousin to visit Pemberley and that they will be welcomed, at their convenience, with all the civility that is their due as near relations. Perhaps you need say nothing more and nothing less. She clearly wishes to relent, just as you do."

As he made no reply but remained in stoic silence, she added impatiently, "You are family, after all, as evidenced by your common obstinacy!"

At this remark, Darcy brusquely stood, turned the chair back toward his desk, sat down again and pulled out a piece of paper. While he reached for his pen and opened his ink well, Elizabeth inquired, "Shall I leave you?"

"No!" he replied curtly.

Irritated, Elizabeth walked over to his desk and threw the letter down. "You are very cross this morning, Mr. Darcy. If I may be so bold, I hardly think her letter merits such a display of temper. There is, after all, nothing at all astonishing about her response. It is quite in keeping with her character."

Darcy did not respond, instead he very quickly wrote a reply and handed it to her; it said no more and no less then she had suggested. "Satisfactory?" he inquired roughly when she had finished reading it.

Exasperated, she dropped his reply onto his desk where it landed aside Lady Catherine's equally intractable letter. "You behave as though you are granting me a favor, Mr. Darcy, and I will not have it. You seem to have forgotten that I was the insulted party. Nevertheless I have acknowledged the importance of restoring good-relations between the two houses and have acted accordingly. This is for your sake and for Georgiana's; for the sake of our children. It accomplishes nothing and satisfies no one to continue in this ridiculous fashion. That two educated and generally sensible relations will not rise above their implacable resentment for common cause is pitiable. I hardly think you need to act as a spoilt child being forced to do his lessons. If you think it a satisfactory response, send it. Henceforth I will offer no more counsel on this matter."

She turned to leave the room but Darcy leapt from his chair and grasped her by the wrist, halting her before she could depart. "Is there something you have not yet told me?" He inquired breathlessly, to Elizabeth's confusion.

"As regards?"

"You have offered a new argument today. You have said 'for the sake of our children'. Is there something you have not yet told me regarding children?"

His face was so awash with joyful expectation that Elizabeth answered reluctantly, almost sadly. "There is nothing I have not told you."

"Oh." Elizabeth's earlier anger dissipated as quickly as the disappointment of her answer reached his eyes. He sat down again and lifted the letter she had thrown onto his desk. He read it, considering it and Elizabeth's reproof. "I suppose I ought to write a less unfriendly response."

"That might be a wise course, sir. Now, if you will excuse me, I will join our sisters and Miss Bingley in the garden."

She walked to the door and as she made to exit, Darcy called out, "Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"Forgive me for my ill temper. It was uncalled for."

"You are forgiven. Will you join us in the garden when you have finished?"

"It would be my pleasure," he said. Elizabeth smiled sweetly and departed his study.

"You are forgiven," Darcy repeated.

He picked up his aunt's correspondence and reflected for a moment on how he had nearly lost the opportunity to win Elizabeth's heart and hand for holding fast to the same mistaken notions that were the cause--as much as were his aunt's disappointed hopes--of Lady Catherine's continued disapprobation of their union. It had only been when faced, at the time of his misbegotten proposal at Hunsford, with Elizabeth's unimpeachable principals and firm sense of worth, her dignity and grace under assault, that he had begun to understand the foolishness of those notions, how they did not serve to measure character, to measure worth. He did not doubt that if Lady Catherine could only see Elizabeth as mistress of Pemberley, see her poise and charm and capacity, she would with time, however reluctantly, come to respect Elizabeth. He had unqualified faith in Elizabeth's ability and he had not yet lost all belief in his aunt's sincere concern for his welfare.

What, truly, had Lady Catherine said to him that he himself had not said to Elizabeth on that fateful evening at the parsonage? And yet Elizabeth had forgiven him with such completeness as to allow him the opportunity to reveal himself to her as he wished to be seen and heard by her, and in so doing she had come to love him. In all the discussions they had held regarding Lady Catherine, Elizabeth--out of consideration for his feelings he was sure--had never used the most simple argument of all, one question which he asked of himself now. How could he not grant forgiveness to Lady Catherine for the very same faults Elizabeth had forgiven in him? Without that forgiveness he would not have his present happiness.

Squaring his shoulders a moment as if to prepare for a necessarily heavy task, he took another sheet of paper and composed a new letter. This letter took considerably more time to order. It was loyal to his wife without being belligerent toward his aunt; it was formal without being unfeeling, conciliatory without being weak, and welcoming without being maudlin. Satisfied, he sealed the letter, dropped it on the silver tray for retrieval by Matthews, and went to join his wife and their guests in the garden.

He felt a burden lifted.

Continued In Next Section