Something in the Soup ~ Section III

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    Part Thirteen

    Posted on Sunday, 13 July 2003

    "I'm not exactly dressed for such an occasion," Colonel Fitzwilliam looked down at his attire.

    "What occasion is that?" murmured Miss Bingley, all conscious thought having fled with the first touch of his lips on hers.

    Fitzwilliam smiled. "Has my lady forgotten that she is hostess of a fancy ball this evening?"

    Caroline sat up and quickly smoothed her gown. "Oh dear," she exclaimed. "You also seem to have forgotten that we were on our way to find Georgiana."

    His mouth fell open. "So we were and so we shall. Come along!" Urging her off his lap, the Colonel rose from the bench and stretched his legs, restoring their circulation. He took her hand, wrapping it around his other arm and clasping it securely. Leaning close to her ear he whispered, "Perhaps no-one will notice my travel stained clothes over the becoming blush in your cheeks."

    Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade with his words. "You are perfectly presentable, Colonel." She indicated a hallway to their left. "This way."

    This short corridor brought them quickly to the ballroom through which they walked to the adjoining room where the diners were assembled. People were moving about the room, picking at the buffet table, mingling with friends and the occasional loud burst of laughter emanated from the location heavily populated by the red jackets of young officers. Miss Bingley led her beau on a meandering course which quite suddenly came to a halt in front of three ladies, two of whom were unknown to the Colonel.

    "Richard!" cried Miss Darcy. Her eyes registered her surprise and apprehension.

    "Georgiana," he acknowledged, attempting to sound more disapproving than he felt. The other two ladies appeared to be respectable companions. Darcy, however, was nowhere in sight.

    "Colonel Fitzwilliam," began Miss Bingley, "may I introduce you to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

    "Good evening, ladies." The Colonel bowed his head in their direction, still maintaining the grasp on Miss Bingley's arm. "How do you do?"

    "Very well, thank you, Colonel," Elizabeth replied. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." And to put a face to the voice I heard earlier. She took careful note of the way Miss Bingley's arm was entwined with his.

    "The pleasure is all mine," he smoothly rejoined. Shifting his attention to his cousin he said, "Georgiana, I expected to see you with your brother."

    "He just left with Mr. Bennet," she told him.

    This news surprised him. "Left? Has he left the house?"

    "Actually," offered Elizabeth, "my father requested an opportunity to speak with Mr. Darcy. They have merely retreated to somewhere more private."

    A private conversation? thought the Colonel. He looked more closely at the two Misses Bennet before returning his attention to Georgiana. "My dear, I was sent to ask that you join our aunt and cousin upstairs."

    "You mean Aunt Catherine ordered you to bring me back to her. My answer is no." Miss Darcy shook her head decisively.

    "Georgiana," Fitzwilliam said in a lowered voice, "do not make a scene. I am perfectly aware of the situation. Trust me."

    "Are you? Perfectly aware?" She was certain that he had no inkling of her brother having fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet. Taking notice now of the Colonel's own familiarity with Miss Bingley, Georgiana began to wonder what had happened to steer her interests in a direction away from Darcy, for interested she appeared to be and most emphatically so. "I have no wish to cause a scene, Richard, but I cannot see how dragging me away from this pleasant company and forcing me to endure our aunt's endless lectures on decorum and fashion is of any benefit."

    "It is simple," he replied. "If you do not go to her, she will come to you." He said no more, leaving the rest to her imagination.

    Georgiana needed no other encouragement. "Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bennet. It seems that my aunt needs me." She stood and politely curtseyed to her new friends. "It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope to see you again soon."

    Elizabeth smiled in reply. "I shall look forward to it." She watched the three move away, the gentleman with a lady on each arm. "Do you not find that odd?" she said to Jane.

    "What in particular?" her sister asked. "That Miss Darcy's aunt should wish to see her or that Miss Darcy should not wish to see her aunt?"

    "That Miss Bingley seems to have permanently attached herself to that Colonel's arm," Elizabeth indicated with a nod of her head. "I had the impression that she was hoping for a match with Mr. Darcy. It seems that I may have been mistaken yet again." She pondered the notion of Miss Bingley's friendship with Darcy being prompted by a goal to secure the man's cousin instead.

    "I admit that I have thought very much the same thing, Lizzy. Mr. Bingley and I spoke only briefly of his sister's interests. From what he told me he believes she is going to be disappointed."

    The mention of Mr. Bingley's name brought with it all manner of pleasant thoughts. Elizabeth's eyes sparkled. "Jane, we have not had a moment alone together since returning here."

    "I am nearly bursting to speak of my news!" Jane whispered. "I know that I cannot say anything that may not be overhead. Not yet. Lizzy, it's just too good to be true!"

    Elizabeth looked with fondness upon the glowing countenance of her beloved sister. To know the source of this happiness was her own good fortune as well as Jane's for it gave both the opportunity to share their excitement of Jane's engagement before the news and congratulations became public. "I can think of no-one more deserving. You and Mr. Bingley make an ideal couple."

    "Lizzy, you are too kind." Jane's gaze became earnest. "I truly hope you find someone who will complement you as well. Perhaps you have already found him." She looked so intently at her sister that Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot.

    "Jane, we were speaking of your good news."

    "Yes, but that is not to say that there is no room for sharing such happiness. Your opinion of Mr. Darcy seems to have improved."

    Again Elizabeth was painfully aware of a deep colour rising to her face. "I have learned that I was a bit hasty in my judgement of certain gentlemen. I may say no more. It is not my privilege to reveal any details."

    "I would not press you for particulars," Jane assured her. "I am interested in seeing you happy, though. Lizzy, you looked quite content to sit here conversing with Mr. Darcy. Did my eyes deceive me?"

    "You are not wrong, Jane. I very much enjoyed his company and his conversation. I was very mistaken in many ways where Mr. Darcy is concerned." Elizabeth frowned slightly. "I find it hard to believe that I ever thought him rude. Actually, he says some of the sweetest things. I don't mean in the superficially charming manner of Mr. Wickham." Elizabeth seemed to have forgotten her sister's presence as she continued speaking. "There is a solemnity in his eyes when Mr. Darcy calls a lady beautiful."

    Jane let out a sigh. "Mr. Bingley says that his friend never speaks anything but the truth. You are beautiful, Lizzy."

    "Jane!

    "But," her sister continued quite seriously, "for him to tell you to your face -."

    "It's much more flattering than being merely tolerable," laughed Elizabeth.

    "You cannot fool me by making light of it," Jane gently scolded. "Lizzy, do you think he is in love with you?"

    "Jane, you are asking me to determine the feelings of a man I have already seriously misjudged!"

    "No," said Jane, patiently. "I am asking you to think about what he has said and done this evening and if he has presented himself as a man in love with you." Elizabeth said nothing, perhaps not quite ready to voice her own hopes for fear she could be wrong. "Let me tell you what happened in the library," Jane suggested, failing to notice the start of surprise as Elizabeth suddenly thought Bingley and her sister had seen and heard everything that had passed between Darcy and herself. Jane, however, was only relating the words of Mr. Bingley's declaration in an effort to show Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy's behaviour was not so different. "His touch on my hand was most gentle. I knew he was going to ask even before he spoke but I could still hardly believe it to be truly happening!"

    "Oh, Jane, that sounds wonderful! It is only as you deserve, though. You are so good and kind."

    Jane took her sister's hand. "You deserve it, too. You are very clever, Lizzy. Much more clever than I. Mr. Darcy is, too. I just hope you aren't too clever for yourselves."

    "What do you -?" Elizabeth began but was interrupted by the return of Mr. Bingley who had taken a few moments to speak with Sir William Lucas on a matter which the latter gentleman assured him was of utmost importance.

    "I say, where did Darcy go with your father? He's not back yet." Bingley looked down at Jane with a broad grin. "I thought as long as Darcy had him in a secluded location I may take advantage of the opportunity to make a formal application for your hand. I know we were going to wait but we need not make a public announcement yet. I would feel much more at ease knowing we have his approval."

    "There is no doubt of his approving your engagement," Elizabeth smiled. "I do admire your scruples, however."

    "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley nodded his head in acknowledgment of the compliment. "Shall we go and see if we can find them?" He offered an arm to each of the ladies.

    There was no small amount of attention paid to the trio as they left the room. Jane and Bingley were oblivious, of course, but Elizabeth heard much of the whispered speculations of the curious and of the envious. It gratified her to know the truth and that some of them would still be surprised. The noisy chatter was left behind as Bingley led the ladies away from the diners and the ballroom to a short but brightly lit hallway. He suggested that Darcy may have chosen a small room not far from the end of this hallway, knowing it was a favourite retreat for his friend when he wished some privacy. Before they reached the corner, however, they could hear the unmistakable sound of voices in disagreement. Bingley hesitated, unwilling to bring the ladies into a scene which might prove unpleasant. His pause was long enough to bring clearly spoken words to their ears.

    "I am not going any further."

    "You cannot stay here."

    "I'll just wait in one of the rooms. This one."

    "No!"

    "Why can she not wait there? Oh, yes. I remember. No, you cannot wait there."

    "What?"

    "Oh, do stop arguing and just come with me."

    As all three listeners now recognised the speakers they continued their advance upon the corner and rounded it to see Georgiana Darcy, armed crossed in a very stubborn pose, and Miss Bingley looking mildly confused. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not appear to be very happy with either of the ladies at that moment. He was about to take hold of Miss Darcy's elbow to encourage her forward movement when he noticed the new arrivals.

    "Ah, you must be Mr. Bingley," he said, smoothly changing the direction of his arm to offer a hand to the master of the house.

    "I am," Bingley quickly replied, casting a quick but puzzled glance in his sister's direction. She avoided his gaze. "And you are.....?"

    "Fitzwilliam, sir. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."

    "Mr. Darcy's cousin," Miss Bingley supplied, at last finding her courage to address her brother.

    "Ah! The famous Colonel! I have heard much about you from your cousin," Bingley grinned. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

    An eyebrow rose on Fitzwilliam's brow. "I cannot imagine what Darcy has told you of me to inspire such interest."

    Georgiana giggled. "He means me, Richard."

    The Colonel shook his head. "I knew I'd rue ever telling you those ridiculous tales of fictional exploits on the Continent."

    "Well," Bingley coughed, "is there something I can help you with at the moment? We have just come in search of Darcy, ourselves. Are you looking for him?"

    "Actually, no." Fitzwilliam looked pointedly at his young cousin. "Lady Catherine asked to see Miss Darcy and I was accompanying her upstairs."

    "Darcy has a lot of relatives appearing all of a sudden," said Bingley. "I hope there is nothing amiss in the family."

    "Everyone is quite well," Georgiana brightly answered. "However, I was attempting to dissuade Richard from stealing me away from your ball. I was so enjoying my time there that I hoped he would make some excuse to our aunt."

    You little minx! The Colonel glared at her. "Lady Catharine is not so easily fobbed off."

    "I'm sure you could convince her to be generous in this instance," Georgiana said with an innocent batting of her eyelashes. The effect was not entirely wasted.

    "Indeed she must be amenable to Miss Darcy enjoying the evening," Bingley agreed wholeheartedly. "Darcy had no objection, after all."

    "Objection to what?" demanded a wary Darcy from the now open doorway behind Fitzwilliam. As the Colonel slowly turned around his cousin's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

    This reception was hardly what most of the others expected. To Elizabeth it came as no great surprise. She knew that Fitzwilliam should have been on the road to Matlock long ago. With this thought came another one: if the Colonel was here then where was Mr. Wickham? Darcy had a justifiable reason to distrust his cousin, she thought.

    This opinion was not shared by Mr. Bennet. He had no idea as to the identity of this man in dusty regimentals who was, to all appearances, engaged in conversing with his two eldest daughters and Darcy's young sister as well as Miss Bingley. That Darcy was not pleased to see this man was clear enough. Mr. Bennet's curiosity was once again aroused. "What a surprise to meet such a large party in a relatively obscure hallway when one would expect everyone to be in the ballroom," he said, directing his words toward Elizabeth for he was fairly certain of obtaining a credible explanation from that source.

    "We were looking to find you and Mr. Darcy, Papa." She did not elaborate on who she meant by the pronoun. "How fortunate that you chose to leave that room just as we were considering where you might be."

    Fitzwilliam tried to discreetly peer around the two gentlemen and into the room, hoping against hope that Wickham had disobeyed him and had left before being seen by Darcy. He realised that he must answer his cousin, however, and soon. "An urgent matter necessitated my return. Fear not, though. Everything is well in hand."

    Darcy hoped this cryptic phrase meant that Wickham was bound and gagged, laying in the bottom of a carriage speeding for Derbyshire with a driver who would stop for nothing and no-one. With his sister under Netherfield's roof, his aunt wreaking havoc on the nerves of everyone in the vicinity and his own attention being sorely tested for focus, the presence of a social climbing, greedy seducer of young women was the last thing he needed. "I am delighted to hear it," he said with no hint of pleasure in his voice.

    "Lizzy," her father was saying, "it was very thoughtful of you to venture forth, en masse, to retrieve us but with the musicians getting ready to begin again should Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley not be in the ballroom to start the next round of entertainment?"

    Confused, Elizabeth shook her head. "Dinner has not been completed yet, Papa. Where did you get the idea that the musicians are about to play?"

    With impeccable timing the hallway filled with the sound of a piano. It was not, however, coming from the direction of the ballroom. In fact, the music came from the opposite direction. Mr. Bingley looked at his sister who looked at Mr. Darcy. That gentleman raised an eyebrow which promptly lowered again to contribute to the frown forming on his face. Without another word he strode purposefully forward, intent upon the source of the music. Bingley quickly scrambled after him, Jane clinging to his arm, while Georgiana wasted no time in attaching herself to her brother's protection and leaving her cousin behind. Elizabeth hurried to catch up with Jane, a perfect way to keep Darcy in sight and ahead of Miss Bingley. Intrigued by so many mysteries, Mr. Bennet sauntered after them all, curiosity winning out over the trauma of paternal emotions being awakened by the conspicuous behaviours of four people in the assembly.

    Miss Bingley wavered. She wished to follow her brother. It was her duty as the lady of the house. Colonel Fitzwilliam had not yet moved, however. "Are you not coming?"

    "One moment," he said before ducking into the recently vacated room. He quickly but thoroughly checked it for any sign of Wickham but to no avail. There was no Wickham behind the curtain, no Wickham behind the chair. Not even a Wickham to be found under the desk. The gravity of the situation did not allow him the luxury of contemplation. He knew he must find the man before Darcy did. Growling his frustration, Fitzwilliam returned to Miss Bingley, took her by the hand and made haste to catch up with the rest of their party. He need not have rushed. They were not far around the next corner and the telltale open door led the way. The music continued to play, a methodical, familiar tune. The others were ranged in a semicircle, silently watching the performer. The Colonel edged closer, bringing himself and Miss Bingley to stand beside Mr. Bennet.

    Mary Bennet played on, oblivious to the new audience. She had eyes only for the man who sat beside her, faithfully turning the pages.

    Part Fourteen

    Posted on Monday, 28 July 2003, at 6:37 a.m.

    George Wickham was incredulous. How had her merit escaped his notice? True, his natural tendency was toward ladies of a less, shall we say, refined manner. With each passing moment the real value of Mary Bennet became clearer. He turned another page of the score, listening with a mere fraction of his attention for his mind was more agreeably engaged in enumerating the performer's many qualities.

    She had not the classic beauty of her eldest sister, nor the dangerous spark of Miss Elizabeth. Wickham would be bored with the former while the latter would have him at a distinct disadvantage. The two youngest Bennet girls were nothing but silly, foolish flirts, too young to fully understand the perilous game they were playing with their dalliances.

    No, Mary Bennet was not like any of her sisters. She was serious, of course. Practical and studious, yet there was that little something extra that hinted of a spirit subdued but not dead. This was what he longed to reach. Wickham was sure that he was just what she needed to bring that light to her eyes just as she had the means of taming him with her self discipline and moral fortitude. If there was one thing he most admired, and at the same time found intensely irritating, it was his friend Darcy's grave adherence to duty and responsibility. This may have been what enticed George Wickham to a life of licentiousness. As a child Darcy was just no fun. He invented the British Stiff Upper Lip. Wickham had no choice but to make up for what the young Darcy lacked and in this he excelled. After nearly 20 years of shouldering this double duty, however, he was more than ready to pass the job on to someone else. Denny seemed willing although less scrupulous but that was not Wickham's concern.

    His concern was at this moment finishing up the last bars of her selection. "Excellent, excellent," he praised. "As I recall, you were the talent behind the music at many of our previous social gatherings. A pity that you could not partake of the joy of dancing as well."

    "I am usually requested to play," Mary replied. "It is something to which I am accustomed."

    "But not the extent of your talents, surely!"

    Mary felt herself blush, a reaction totally foreign to her. "I rarely dance."

    Wickham could hear the echo of Darcy's voice in that reply. The poor lass! She most assuredly needed to be saved from herself. "Is that why you escaped the ballroom to read?"

    Again her cheeks grew hot with the memory of what she had been reading. "I was looking for a quiet place to escape the noise in the dining hall. It was merely a coincidence that a book lay open on the desk."

    "Oh, I knew it was there before you entered the room," he smiled.

    Her eyes grew wide. "You were reading it?" she asked in a hushed voice.

    Wickham gave a snort of amusement. "Not I, though I confess that I did take a peek when I saw it laying there. Now I wonder who left it."

    If it were possible Mary's eyes would have widened still more. "That does not concern me in the least but had Papa seen it and me, as well as you, I would not care to have heard his opinion on the situation." The gentleman's puzzled expression encouraged her to elaborate. "Papa's opinions can be very forthright."

    This brought an amused smile to his face. "And this would not have sat well with you."

    "Certainly not!" she replied indignantly. "My younger sisters may be immune to such concerns about their reputations but I am not."

    "Yet you were reading that book," he pointed out.

    "I have never professed to being perfect," Mary primly said. "Even Eve succumbed to temptation in the Garden of Eden."

    Wickham briefly toyed with the idea of asking her what other temptations she may be persuaded to try but wisely held his tongue. Instead, he changed the subject back to music. "Would you play something else for me?" he asked, placing a score in front of her.

    Mary glanced at the title then applied her fingers to the keys. The notes were clear and punctuated by a lively rhythm. She wondered at his choice since her preference was for the more sedate and complex songs, the better to illustrate her talent. Still, she played on and he appeared to enjoy it. Soon she was caught up in watching him with little regard for anything else. Her years of dogged practice on the keyboard were put to the test and did not fail her.

    Wickham knew nothing about reading music. The young lady's playing was pleasant and unfaltering. Had she deviated from the notes on the sheets in front of them he would have no notion of the difference. He was quite content to listen, turning the pages when her playing paused momentarily to signal him that it was time. Thus they sat through two more songs before the gentleman grew aware of the presence of others in the room. Slowly he looked up to find an array of faces in various states of disbelief watching himself and Miss Mary. Amongst those faces he was dismayed to see Darcy's and shocked to see a pale Georgiana clinging to her brother's arm. Suddenly Wickham realised why Darcy had been so eager to get him away from Netherfield. He couldn't blame the man for wanting him out of the way. At this moment Wickham himself was desirous of being anywhere else. He could also not fault Darcy for directing an accusatory look toward his cousin. Nothing could be said aloud, however. For this, Wickham was grateful. Georgiana was visibly shaken but most of the others were preoccupied with staring at the two occupants of the room. Noticing at last that Mr. Bennet was amongst them, George Wickham directed the attention of his companion to their audience.

    Mary blinked not once but twice, at first believing her eyes to be playing tricks. Who are all of these people? she wondered. What are they all doing here? Her fingers came to an abrupt halt and the room filled with a silence as loud as the music had been moments before.

    Mr. Bennet could tolerate the stillness for but a moment or two before addressing his daughter. "By all means, do not stop playing on our account, Mary. Rarely will you find a more attentive audience."

    Elizabeth was mortified and not even Jane could ignore the impropriety of their father's comments, made in the presence of some who were virtually strangers to the family. Mary was at a loss for words, unusual in itself.

    Drawing attention to himself was the last thing that Wickham wished to do but he could not sit idly by while Miss Mary was ridiculed. "I must shoulder full responsibility for this irregular situation."

    "Must you, now," drily responded Mr. Bennet.

    "Indeed I must," he persisted. "I happened upon Miss Bennet playing as I was walking past the open door of this room." He knew that only Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley could contradict any of his explanation and gambled that neither would. " I could not resist enjoying the music despite the risk to the lady's reputation. Very selfish and inconsiderate of me, I'm sorry to say."

    Darcy's complexion had grown two shades darker with this exchange while his sister had become even whiter. Elizabeth, concerned for the feelings of both of her friends, now moved closer to Miss Darcy and placed a hand on her arm. Georgiana looked at her and offered a weak smile of gratitude for the support. The distraction was enough for her to relinquish the grip on her brother, freeing Darcy to step away from her toward Wickham. Fitzwilliam noticed his movement with alarm but he was too far away to do anything other than call his cousin's name. Darcy did not acknowledge it.

    Mr. Bennet was enjoying himself too much to notice the discomfiture of those around him. "Well then, Mary, of all my daughters you are the last one I would have expected to be at risk."

    Mary, not acknowledging the double edge to her father's words, answered him with her usual aplomb. "I am pleased that you understand me well enough to have that faith, Papa. No matter her age, a woman should always have her reputation uppermost in mind."

    "And of course," hurriedly added Wickham, "the door remained open during the short time we have been here."

    Darcy's eyes narrowed, believing Wickham to be attempting to avoid finally paying the price for getting caught. He was not eager to see Elizabeth's sister tied to this parasite, for what woman could be happy married to such a man, but under the circumstances it might be the only choice.

    Mr. Bennet, however, took note of the calm demeanour of his daughter and concluded that there was nothing to fear. It had all happened as Mr. Wickham had stated. "Mary, you may join your sisters." As she rose from the bench and crossed to where Jane stood beside Mr. Bingley her father addressed the young lieutenant. "I'll have a word with you."

    Colonel Fitzwilliam warily kept watch as Wickham stood to join Mr. Bennet and Darcy took deliberate steps toward them to participate in their discussion. He fidgeted with his cuff until he realised that it was the lace on Miss Bingley's sleeve between his fingers. She looked at him with patient curiosity, only her eyes questioning him. His smile was intended to reassure her but the concern in his eyes merely served to bring a frown to her face.

    Caroline was puzzled. She was aware that the Colonel and Mr. Wickham were meant to be on the road to London long ago. She also knew that they returned purely on the authority of the Colonel. It seemed that Mr. Darcy had some interest in Mr. Wickham's absentia or, in this case, lack thereof. Mr. Wickham, having escaped the confines of one small room appeared to have escaped his agreed upon confinement to a slightly larger one. How was not known at that moment but he apparently had a talent for avoiding detection when he moved from one location to another. Where and how Mary Bennet had appeared was another mystery, the most surprising thing being that she looked as if she welcomed the young man's attentions! Miss Bingley reflected that Miss Mary could do far worse than the son of Pemberley's former steward even if he wasn't on the best of terms with Mr. Darcy. She was not as confident that the gentlemen shared her opinion.

    "Colonel," she finally ventured to whisper. "What is going on? May I help in some way?"

    "Help?" His expression was blank. Then something occurred to him. "Yes, you could try to take Georgiana upstairs to Lady Catherine... or anywhere, really." He didn't like the thought of his charge with any Miss Bennet if those young ladies were friendly with Wickham.

    Miss Bingley undertook her mission with fervour. Seeing her subject now in conversation with Elizabeth Bennet she was at once offended and then cautious. Unlike others, Caroline knew enough of Darcy's interest in this lady to suspect that it hadn't escaped Miss Darcy's keen eye either. How the younger woman felt about a potential sister was unknown. At this point, however, it was more important that she be persuaded to do as her family bid. "Georgiana," she said, using the advantage of intimacy to aid her cause. "I believe it would be best if we left the gentlemen to sort out this matter."

    Quelling the urge to contradict their hostess, Elizabeth voiced agreement. If Miss Bingley was aware of the history between Miss Darcy and Mr. Wickham then praise for her thoughtfulness was deserved but whatever her motivation the result could only be the same; relief from what could only be a distressing experience for the girl. It was unfortunate that her sisters chose this moment to join them, effectively delaying any means of exiting the room.

    "Unlike some," Mary was saying, "I am not deceived by appearances."

    "I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth gasped, appalled at the arrogance of her younger sister's comment. The prim and proper Mary Bennet might be more self-righteous than most but that did not give her omniscience.

    "Lizzy, you are not the only one who finds a fascination in studying characters. I, too, enjoy the practice but for me it is for the purpose of learning more about other people, not to ridicule their weaknesses." This last was not said in a tone of reprimand but as a matter of fact. Elizabeth was painfully aware of the accuracy of Mary's assessment not only with regard to herself but also to their father.

    "I did not realise you studied character, Mary," Jane said in innocent interest. "I wonder what you can tell us about the charming people of our acquaintance."

    "Charm is a superficial quality," stated Mary. "The label is too often misapplied. For instance, Mr. Bingley is often described as a charming gentleman when he is really a kind and genuinely friendly person who is happy to think well of others. Much like you, Jane."

    A faint pink blush spread across Jane's cheeks at this description of Mr. Bingley and herself. "What do you consider superficial about charm?"

    "Charm," explained Mary with less patience than eagerness to instruct, "is no more than an outward manifestation of the desire to make a good impression."

    "There is some fault in your reasoning, though," interrupted Miss Bingley. "By this method it could be construed that charming people desire to be well received while those not seen as charming do not have this wish."

    Mary shook her head. "Not at all. There is talent in all things where man tries his hand. This is no different. Not all who wish to make a good impression have the talent to employ charming manners and conversation. However, where I see an excess of charm applied it naturally makes me suspicious. Perhaps that person wishes to disguise something that is not so charming after all."

    Georgiana looked down at her slippers in some embarrassment. This was so very apt a description of Mr. Wickham when he visited her at Ramsgate. How could I have fallen for such deception? Miss Mary is not so much older than myself yet she has seen Mr. Wickham for what he is. She longed for the courage to enquire further but it was Miss Bingley's curiosity which prompted the next question.

    "How do you determine between excessive charm and a gentleman who merely tries too hard to please?"

    "That is simple enough." Mary was delighted to see that she had the attention of all the ladies now. "The measure of his success is the difference. The gentleman who tries too hard is rarely rewarded with his objective. His charm tends toward ingratiating while excessive charm is practised, smooth and just too well performed to be sincere."

    Georgiana and Elizabeth immediately thought of Mr. Wickham, recognising him in those words. Jane felt only sympathy for the man who would try too hard and be disappointed. Miss Bingley was not satisfied, however.

    "I am sure your analysis applies to many a gentleman met here but as for the higher levels of society, the importance of charming manners cannot be underestimated." Her own manner seemed anything but charming at that moment.

    "Doubtless you are right," agreed Elizabeth, "for gentlemen of the ton often have more to disguise." Elizabeth could not believe she had voiced that thought aloud but seeing the open-mouthed expressions of the other ladies confirmed that an explanation, and even an apology, was in order.

    "I am sure," Mary interjected, "that the propensity for vice exists in equal proportions at all levels of our society. However, it cannot be denied that ready access to money makes these vices more easily attained."

    "And easier to disguise," added a thoughtful Georgiana. She gazed upon Mary with admiration. "How clever of you to be able to detect the difference between the sincerity of well-bred manners and the shallow deceit of charm."

    "Be careful, Georgiana. Such broad sweeping statements are dangerous to take to heart." Caroline turned a critical eye on the three Bennet ladies. "I cannot think that your brother would approve of such a view."

    "But it was not a broad sweeping statement, Miss Bingley," Georgiana unexpectedly countered. "Miss Mary was allowing for equal disposition of ... of.. undesirables." She did not finish by pointing out what the rest of them already knew; that Miss Bingley's comment was the one that was generalised.

    "Mr. Darcy is a perfect example of the gentleman with well-bred manners who does not resort to artificial arts to secure admirers although many of those admirers are, no doubt, suspect." There was no indication that Mary had meant anything other than the literal with her words. Her face was a study in sobriety. "He is certainly not charming."

    Elizabeth's eyes closed in painful embarrassment. When she thought of the terrible things she herself had said of Mr. Darcy and now only wished to retract them, she felt the full impact of Mary's words.

    "Mr. Darcy has no charm!" cried Miss Bingley. "What is this you are saying? I fear what I may hear next for surely it will be a panegyric on the virtues of Mr. Wickham."

    Miss Darcy's small gasp went unnoticed as Mary rose to the bait. "Mr. Wickham is all that is charming, indeed. I believe you have misunderstood my position, Miss Bingley. I stated from the beginning that charm is a falsification of true intentions and motivations while truly well-bred manners have no need for embellishment."

    A small frown formed on Jane's face. "What intentions do you perceive Mr. Wickham to have formed in his attentions to you this evening?"

    Mary was not as quick to answer this question. She had no desire to reveal the true events of the last hour. "I have been unable to resolve that puzzle, Jane."

    "Quite frankly, I don't think Papa is interested in Mr. Wickham's real motive, either." Directing their attention to where the two gentlemen stood on the other side of the room with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth shook her head in a wary manner. "It looks as if he's already made up his mind."

    Part Fifteen

    Posted on Tuesday, 5 August 2003, at 10:27 p.m.

    The shock Darcy felt upon seeing George Wickham was nothing compared to the rage which supplanted it. His first thought was of Georgiana, naturally, and the feeling of betrayal by their cousin in allowing the man who had nearly ruined her to remain in such close quarters. The look he sent Fitzwilliam was scathing; he deserved no less. Darcy's second thought was of Elizabeth. How would she react now with her sister virtually compromised by a man she had earlier seemed to hold in a favourable light? Was there no end to the varied ways that Wickham could inflict pain upon him? There seemed no logic in any entanglement with Mary Bennet. She had no fortune nor was she the flirtatious type. Could he have possibly learned of my attachment to Elizabeth and sought to avenge himself by putting the sister of my beloved at risk? The notion was rejected as quickly as it had been conceived. He resisted the temptation toward paranoia. Wickham sought nothing but self gratification; any ill effect upon Darcy would be incidental even if it was welcome to the perpetrator. None of this speculation was useful at the moment, however, as Mr. Bennet now appeared intent upon handling this situation immediately and in his own unique way. Darcy was uneasy in not knowing if his future father-in-law's opinion of Wickham's character was accurate or if he believed the lieutenant to be a worthy addition to the Bennet family. Rather than give him pause, this vision propelled Darcy forward in the hope of preventing any hasty action on the part of Mr. Bennet.

    "If I may, sir," he began, a note of command dominating his accent.

    Mr. Bennet looked up sharply, displeasure evident on his face. "Do not presume, Darcy. You are not married to my daughter yet."

    Wickham gave a start of surprise at this information and a dreadful shiver shot down his spine. Had he trespassed into territory already claimed by Darcy? It seemed ludicrous but Mr. Bennet's next words only intensified his fear.

    "If you have some wild, headstrong notion of a duel then forget it at once. I'll not see my daughter widowed before she is wed."

    Darcy obligingly stepped back, more in deference to the respect owed Elizabeth's father than any feeling of being reprimanded. Wickham continued to stare, trying to assimilate the idea of Fitzwilliam Darcy wishing to make Mary Bennet his wife. The calm and very proper Miss Mary would appeal to Darcy's boringness but how did the lady feel about the match? Is this what she was escaping in the pages of a torrid novel; the knowledge of a future life of suppressed emotions and repressed passions?

    "Now as for you, Mr. Wickham," said an irritated Mr. Bennet, "I am disappointed in you, young man. You have conducted yourself impeccably during previous visits to my home and now I find you sequestered away with my daughter. Not my eldest daughter, either! No, one of my younger girls. I ask you, sir, what is a father to think when he discovers a young man in a room alone with a young woman and with the knowledge that every other person in the house is otherwise occupied at a ball?"

    "I believe there is no question what a father would think under those circumstances," Wickham softly replied. "I can only assure you, sir, that nothing improper transpired between us."

    The older man's frown was severe. "I am perfectly satisfied with Mary's innocence in this. It is your intentions that I am questioning."

    "My intentions!" Wickham was astonished. He could not, he would not, have compromised Mary Bennet in any way! The irony of the situation did not amuse him. There had been many ladies whose fathers would have been eager to catch him in this manner and they would have been justified in not only questioning him but in condemning him as well. To be suspected of nefarious intentions with a woman he had come to respect rankled him. What disturbed him more, however, was Darcy's attentiveness and the words of Mary's father that rang in his head; you are not married to my daughter yet. Then there were Darcy's eyes! The expression in them even now was hostile. No, more than hostile; it was positively malevolent. This was a side that Wickham had seen only once before and it confirmed in his mind what he had earlier thought. Darcy has selected himself a wife. He would not deceive himself into believing that the Master of Pemberley had made his choice based on tender emotions or any other impractical reason. Darcy's method would have been to study the candidate, evaluate her pedigree and judge the suitability of her to complement his own position in society. He had chosen a wife in the same manner he would a horse. And why not? Was Mrs. Darcy to be anything but a... Wickham's senses rebelled at completing the thought to its logical conclusion.

    The one weakness in this match was that Mary Bennet had no fortune. Although her family was not notable by any stretch, her father came from a respectable line. The lack of a dowry was not a hardship where Darcy was concerned and so Wickham could not imagine this being an impediment to the gentleman's goal. None of this was bringing him any closer to forming an answer to Mr. Bennet's question, however, and that gentleman was beginning to look impatient. "I can tell you what I did not intend and that was to compromise your daughter's reputation in any manner."

    "The fact remains," drawled her father, "that you have been found in a compromising position, not only by me but by all of these people." He waved an arm to indicate the others in the room. "That cannot be undone. I may believe that all was innocent but as for the rest.... I do not care for the thought that Mary's reputation may be in jeopardy. What do you intend to do to prevent that?"

    "Marry her?" Did I just say that?

    Mr. Bennet shook his head in disbelief. This was all too easy. "That's not necessarily an acceptable option."

    Wickham stole a glance at Darcy, still looking thunderous. "It is the usual reaction to a situation such as this. Is there a complication of which I am unaware?"

    "I know nothing about you, Wickham. What makes you think I would consent to my daughter committing the rest of her life to a man I don't know? Consider that I barely know Mr. Darcy but of his ability to provide for one of my girls I have the most reliable information. Still he must work to secure my consent. As for Mr. Bingley, he is more familiar to me but he has yet to inform me of his own intentions." Sighing, Mr. Bennet shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "I'll tell you the same as I told Darcy; you will have to wait until Bingley makes up his mind."

    Wickham blinked. "He wants to marry Mary, too?"

    "Marry marry?" Darcy repeated in confusion.

    "Of course," smiled Mr. Bennet. "Who doesn't want to marry merry?" Ignoring the uncomprehending expressions of the two younger men he gestured for Bingley to join them. "What do you say? You're a good fellow. Is there to be a wedding?"

    "Wedding? Well.. well...," stammered Bingley, glancing over his shoulder at Jane, then Darcy and finally back to Mr. Bennet. "Perhaps we may speak of this more privately?"

    "Privately? If you insist but since my decision affects Lieutenant Wickham directly would it not be more expedient to simply discuss it here?"

    "I don't understand." Bingley looked to his friend for an explanation of how his request for Jane's hand should affect Wickham.

    Darcy comprehended the dilemma. "The question of Miss Mary's reputation in light of Wickham's presence here, alone with her, has been raised. Mr. Bennet suggested that a marriage may be in order."

    "Excuse me," Wickham indignantly interrupted. "It was I who suggested it and I stand by my avowal that nothing improper occurred here. However, I am not about to let the lady suffer for my shortsightedness in allowing her to be placed in a questionable situation."

    "You mean allowing yourself to be caught," rumbled Darcy.

    "Gentlemen, let us not quibble about particulars. I asked if there was to be a wedding. What do you both say?" He looked first to Bingley.

    "Er..," hesitated his host.

    "No." The sharp negative cut across Bingley's indecision and Darcy continued before any other could speak. "I strongly suggest that you reconsider this, sir. George Wickham is not a suitable husband for Miss Mary, nor for any of your daughters."

    Mr. Bennet's eyebrow rose. "You would then leave Mary's reputation hanging in the balance? Most unchivalrous of you, Darcy."

    Darcy felt the sting of that rebuke. "Believe me, Mr. Bennet, I have no more desire to see your daughter's character disgraced than you but there are other ways to prevent it than to marry her off to a man such as this."

    "I have yet to hear anything to justify your extreme dislike of Lieutenant Wickham," persisted Mr. Bennet. "Nor why you believe him to be insincere in his wish to do the honourable thing."

    It was in Darcy's power to fully enlighten him and he realised that his own character was being called into question if he didn't. Before Darcy could decide on a course of action his cousin rescued him from his folly.

    "Forgive my intrusion but this really is not necessary, Darcy." The Colonel's eyes appealed to Darcy to remain silent about Georgiana's near elopement. "The decision is Mr. Bennet's and it appears that Mr. Wickham is serious about his offer to preserve the lady's respectability." Darcy's expression made it clear how serious he believed Wickham to be. Fitzwilliam was compelled to reinforce his advice in a low voiced whisper to his cousin. "It is not your concern, Darcy. She is not your sister."

    Ah, but she soon will be and then Wickham will become my brother. The realisation that he had managed to escape that relationship a few months previous only to be confronted with it now in another guise was not a comforting one. If he was cursed to find George Wickham insinuating himself at every turn then the prudent thing to do just might be assisting in an arrangement in which he would always know where Wickham was. If the man chose to leave his wife in dire straits at some later date then Darcy would be in a position to extricate her and bring her to Pemberley. This was a far more attractive prospect and one that allowed Darcy the luxury of imagining himself as a contented husband to Elizabeth.

    "I wonder, Mr. Bennet," ventured Bingley, "why you ask our opinions in this matter. I must agree with Colonel Fitzwilliam that is really isn't our place to offer suggestions and with Mr. Wickham already agreeing to honour the customary arrangements in cases such as these it truly is your decision alone."

    Mr. Bennet was surprised by the responses from both young men. He had expected Mr. Bingley to agree without question and Mr. Darcy to present a rational evaluation of the situation without any emotional attachment. Mr. Bingley had now risen in his estimation as more than a man who blindly followed where his friends led while his opinion of Mr. Darcy underwent a less appealing reconsideration. A man of such strong and unpredictable feelings could present a problem for his Lizzy with her outspoken ways. As for Mr. Wickham, he'd recognised the look in that young man's eyes when his behaviour had come under scrutiny. Mary would derive great pleasure from keeping this one on the straight and narrow. Mr. Bennet nodded as he came to his decision, a decision no different from that he had expected from the onset.

    "Mary," he called, "please come here." All three of his daughters responded immediately, proving that they had not been as inattentive to the gentleman as they had appeared. Mr. Bennet looked fondly upon them all. Jane with her shy innocence waited with hopeful anticipation. Mary's chin was thrust bravely toward her father and whatever fate he decreed. Lizzy.... my little Lizzy, he sighed to himself. What am I to do? I have already given Darcy my consent. What if I have made a mistake? It is in your hands to refuse him, my girl. Do not be as foolish in your choosing as I was. He turned his attention to Mary, startling her by taking her hand in his. "I am sure you are aware that your reputation is in jeopardy once the gossip mill learns of your private recital for Lieutenant Wickham."

    "Papa!" Mary was mortified by his description of the incident.

    "Now, now," he soothed. "Do not alarm yourself. The young man has willingly agreed to save you from such humiliation as that would entail. You understand what this means, of course."

    Her voice never wavered in her reply although a rapid blinking of her eyelids betrayed an anxiety Mary would rather not reveal. "I am not a child, Papa. You are speaking of my marrying Mr. Wickham." She added as an amused afterthought, "What a shock for Lydia and Kitty."

    "Yes," he agreed, less amused by it all than Mary seemed to be. "This does present problems for your sisters, though."

    "How so, Papa?" Jane asked.

    "My dear Jane," her father smiled. "As the eldest it was always your privilege to be first to wed. I don't need to explain how your younger sister marrying first reflects upon you, and upon Lizzy, as well."

    "Oh, but -." Jane stopped and blushed a pretty pink. "Please don't worry about that, Papa. I am not offended by these things and I'm sure Lizzy is of the same mind."

    "Are you, Lizzy?" There was no doubt in Mr. Bennet's mind that his favourite daughter would be highly offended by some of the comments that would be made.

    "I-." Elizabeth paused, the truth staring her in the face. Jane would not be the subject of such derisive remarks. She was already engaged. This comfort was not available to Elizabeth. She risked a quick glance toward Darcy but in his eyes she could read only distance. The most pressing concern, however, was the insupportable notion that Mary must become Mrs. Wickham. Yet how could she object to the match without appearing to be thinking only of herself? Anyone believing as much would summarily dismiss her concerns without another thought.

    "It is as I suspected," sighed her father. "The horns of a dilemma, you see. Who will suffer more from the wagging tongues; Mary or Jane and Lizzy?"

    It was at this moment that Bingley could stand no more. He stepped forward smartly and addressed Mr. Bennet. "Let me assure you that Miss Bennet will suffer not one whit, sir!"

    "You are referring to Jane?"

    "Yes, sir," Bingley grinned foolishly. "I had planned to speak with you tomorrow but in light of this evening's ... er... well, it seems the proper thing to do now. We.. that is, Jane... um.. Miss Bennet... and I... hoped that you would favour us with your approval to marry." There. It was said.

    "Well now," cried Mr. Bennet. "This is a surprise!"

    Jane's colour was a deep rosy hue. "Oh, Papa!"

    "Am I not allowed a little teasing?" he laughed before turning to Bingley. "Young man, I heartily approve and can think of no better match for my Jane."

    Bingley grasped Mr. Bennet's outstretched hand and accepted his congratulations as well as those from Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy. Suddenly his sister was before him, tears filling her eyes.

    "Charles," she whispered. "I truly am happy for you, both you and Jane. I am sorry if I made things difficult for you."

    Even Bingley was a bit overwhelmed by Caroline's change of heart although his forgiving nature served him well. "Thank you," he said. "It is a relief to know that you approve of my choice."

    Caroline nodded but was unable to say more. She stepped back and found the comfort of Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm taking hers in support. He gently patted her hand and smiled in encouragement.

    "This has certainly been an eventful night." Mr. Bennet looked at all the faces in the room. "Is there anyone else wishing to make a declaration? It seems to be quite the fashion at the moment."

    Elizabeth's gaze quickly fell to the floor where she found herself minutely examining the toes of her slippers. Her cheeks were burning with shame, unable to find anything amusing in her father's remarks. The silence in the room was unbearable but at last the hum of conversation allowed her to breathe again. The moment had passed.

    "Miss Elizabeth."

    The familiar voice startled her. Elizabeth looked up slowly, drawing in a steadying breath as the presence of Mr. Darcy filled her senses.

    Part Sixteen

    Posted on Monday, 11 August 2003, at 8:46 a.m.

    "Bring him to me at once!"

    The servants scattered in a flurry to locate their master. Reports were that he was not to be found in the dining room. He had not been seen in the ballroom. Just where Mr. Bingley had gone was not known. Further enquiries revealed the absence of several others, both residents of the house and guests at this evening's festivities. Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley were missing, not necessarily odd in itself as Mr. Darcy was known to frequently remove himself from large social gatherings and Miss Bingley often sought him out accordingly. However, it appeared that the two eldest Misses Bennet had also left the rooms. Now began the speculation amongst the less discreet members of the staff. Mr. Bingley's partiality for Miss Bennet was well known, as was Miss Bingley's desire to become the wife of her brother's friend. Where did Miss Elizabeth Bennet fit into this? Some nodded sagely, relating the 'well-known' fact that the local lady had shamelessly set her sights on Mr. Darcy, a man decidedly above her station. Another ridiculed that idea but was ignored as she was a local herself. No matter what the truth may have been, the immediate task was to find Mr. Bingley and so the available servants spread themselves throughout the house to do just that.

    Mr. Collins bowed low at the feet of his patroness. "If I may be of service, Madam," he grovelled.

    Lady Catharine's eyes focussed down the length of her nose to the top of his head. "You? What do you suppose you could do that the servants cannot?"

    Not deterred by her tone, the clergyman supplied her with an answer. "I shall enlist the aide of my cousin, Bennet. I'm sure he will know where Mr. Bingley has gone."

    The logic behind this escaped her. "Why should he have this information when the servants do not?"

    "Ah," smiled Mr. Collins as if a great secret were to be imparted. "Miss Jane Bennet, his eldest daughter, is practically engaged to Mr. Bingley."

    "One of the ladies who has also been misplaced. I see." Lady Catharine waved a hand at him. "Off you go, then." She watched Mr. Collins scurry away before turning her attention on her daughter. "How are you feeling, Anne?"

    "Oh do stop fussing, Mother," said Anne de Bourgh with a roll of her eyes. "I am perfectly fine. I've never felt better. Must we stay in these stuffy rooms? I'd much rather go downstairs and see the dancing!"

    "That is not advisable, Anne. Your delicate health -."

    "Is not delicate anymore! I want to go downstairs. I want to dance!" She gathered up her skirts and jumped up from her seat. "I am going to dance," she announced.

    "Anne, sit down," her mother commanded.

    "No. I am going to join in the fun." With that, Anne walked out of the room.

    "Anne! ANNE!" Lady Catherine huffed in annoyance, her comfort disturbed by this sudden exit and the resulting need to follow her daughter. "Do not run you silly girl! Oh, where is Mrs. Jenkinson?" This last cry went completely unheeded as Mrs. Jenkinson had long ago vacated the confinement of the rooms for the freedom of the servants' hall.

    Despite Anne's eagerness her mother had no difficulty overtaking her in the passage. Together they made a determined entry into the ballroom. Lively music greeted them, the sight of colourful gowns, sparkling jewellery and the fragrance of fresh flowers bringing a light to Anne's eyes and blush to her cheeks that reflected her excitement.

    "Oh," she breathed. "How beautiful!"

    "Anne," began Lady Catherine, "you are not to overexcite yourself. You will choose a seat in a quiet corner and observe from there."

    "Yes, Mother." Anne walked away into the centre of activity. Lady Catherine's mouth fell open but before she could reprimand her daughter an interruption in the form of Mr. Collins appeared.

    "I have found Mrs. Bennet."

    Annoyed, Lady Catherine frowned at him. "I wanted Mr. Bingley. Why have you brought me Mrs. Bennet?"

    Rubbing his hands together to warm their dampness, Mr. Collins explained, "Mrs. Bennet observed the departure of Mr. Bingley from this room. He was in the company of her two eldest daughters."

    "Is that so?" Fixing the other woman with a cool stare Lady Catherine asked the first question. "Where did he go?"

    "He.. um.. yes, my Lady," Mrs. Bennet stammered. "I watched them leave and followed.... you see, my dear girls were with him, my Jane and Lizzy, so I had to know where they were going. So I followed them when I realised they were leaving the room."

    "Yes, yes," Lady Catherine barked. "Where is he now?"

    "Oh, dear me!" fluttered the other lady. "They turned left.. no, right! No, it was left when they entered the hall. Yes, left." She closed her eyes tightly, forehead wrinkling with the effort of recalling what she had seen. "And then-."

    "Come. You will show me." Lady Catherine waited for Mrs. Bennet to lead the way, no small amount of impatience in her manner.

    Self consciousness was not a familiar feeling to Mrs. Bennet yet she felt it in full force at this moment. Hesitating for only a moment, she drew a deep breath before complying. The two ladies, with Mr. Collins in tow, traced the steps that Mr. Bingley had walked only a short time before. The clergyman turned to look back into the ballroom as they were about to walk through the doorway. He was shocked to see Miss de Bourgh engaged in a lively reel with a young red-coated officer.

    "Lady Catherine," he impulsively cried out.

    "Not now!" The good Lady silenced him with her sharp retort and he meekly fell in behind their quick steps.

    As they came to the end of the hall Mrs. Bennet said, "They turned here."

    Raising an eyebrow Lady Catherine sarcastically pointed out that there was really no choice; the end of the hall meant they had to have turned. "But which way? Did you see that?"

    "Yes. Yes, of course I saw it. I followed them right to here, I did." Mrs. Bennet once again scowled in concentration. "This way," she said, pointing to the right. "And then I heard several voices. I didn't see them but Miss Bingley's I knew and there was also a gentleman's that I did not recognise."

    This information was of no concern to Lady Catherine. She wished only to locate Mr. Bingley. "We shall look further, then." The hallway was short with only a few doors. One was open near the end of the corridor, light spilling out onto the floor and opposite wall. This was, naturally, where she was drawn. Her purposeful stride brought Lady Catherine to her destination within seconds but she was not prepared for what she saw.

    "What is this?" she demanded, taking in the presence of her two nephews, niece and several faces she did not recognise. Noticing her hostess amongst them, Lady Catherine continued into the room. "Miss Bingley, I must speak with you and your brother."

    "Now?"

    She gazed at her nephew over the rims of her spectacles. "Of course I mean now, Fitzwilliam. What sort of a question is that? Have you forgotten your manners?"

    "It is just that now is not the most convenient time," the Colonel explained, ignoring the latter question.

    "Why not? Oh, never mind. I will speak with Darcy first, then." She began to walk away but the Colonel, desperate to keep his aunt as far from Wickham's vicinity as possible, placed his boot firmly upon the trailing edge of her skirt. The fabric was strong and the seamstress talented. Lady Catherine was pulled to a sudden and graceless halt which did not go unnoticed. Darcy frowned slightly, annoyed with even the smallest distraction at this moment. Taking Elizabeth's elbow, he guided her to a quieter corner of the room, knowing there was no chance of leaving even for a private moment such as this.

    "Miss-." The words froze in his mouth. Elizabeth was looking up at him, her eyes wide and apprehensive. Darcy's heart leaped. Everything else was forgotten as his attention focussed solely on her. "Are you quite well, Miss Bennet?"

    "Yes. Yes, I am well, thank you." She bit the edge of her lip nervously. "No, actually I'm not. I simply must apologise for Papa's heavy handedness. Poor Mr. Bingley and Jane! To have goaded him into asking for her hand in front of everyone was just cruel."

    "I don't think Bingley really minded." Darcy smiled fondly at her affronted sensibilities.

    "That is not the point," maintained Elizabeth, her words now coming in a rush. "He should have had more consideration for Mr. Bingley's feelings. Oh, and poor Mary! There really was no reason to force her into such a marriage. I'm sure none of us here believed she was compromised in any way. Her reputation would have been safe and you know what sort of a man he is. If that isn't all, there is your sister. How I feel for her having to bear the presence of that man and see my sister promised to him as well! Is there no end to the shame my father inflicts upon me?" She closed her eyes and drew another breath. "It was perfectly obvious to everybody that he now expects you to make an offer to me. I cannot understand his reasons but there it is. I admit that my first impression of you, Mr. Darcy, was ill formed and completely in the wrong. I have come to appreciate your true character and am now heartily sorry that our acquaintance can no longer continue. As you are no doubt aware, I am familiar with the history of Mr. Wickham and yourself. I trust you have not forgotten that I was in the library during the discussion with your aunt. If you have forgotten and believed that conversation to have been conducted in privacy I am sorry to remind you of it. Be assured that it will not go any further." Her regret had now become so intense that she could no longer look him in the face. Casting her eyes down for fear that tears would spill over, Elizabeth's voice wavered with her final words. "I perfectly understand your wish to take Miss Darcy away from here and never have to expose her to Mr. Wickham again."

    "Oh, Elizabeth," breathed Darcy. His real wish was to shield her from the pain of humiliation that she was being forced to endure. Another was that he could untie his tongue long enough to say what he really wanted to say to her. "I have no plans to leave." She did not seem to have heard him and he felt her shoulders begin to shake when he pulled her close. Placing his lips beside her ear he whispered, "I am not going anywhere. Not even Wickham could make me leave without you."

    "Wh-what?" she stammered, turning a tear stained face upward.

    The temptation was great. Darcy wanted to take her in his arms, to soothe her wounded feelings and reassure her that his love for her was stronger and more constant than a mere man such as Wickham could destroy. His sense of propriety warred with his feelings, however. There were too many eyes watching their every move. Words would have to suffice. "Elizabeth, Wickham is no deterrent and your father has intimated no more than the truth of what is in my thoughts. He is perfectly aware of my feelings. I have no idea of yours, however. If you are willing to accept me I would be honoured to have you for my wife."

    Tension drained from her body and with it flowed more tears. Elizabeth was unable to speak, her throat closed on the syllables leaving her lips forming a soundless reply. The corners of her mouth had spread wide in a joyful smile, though, and Darcy needed no more sign than that. His own joy overwhelmed all other senses and, sweeping Elizabeth to him, sealed their agreement with a kiss softly pressed against her warm lips. She leaned against him, willing the kiss to continue and so it did, concluding only when a loud squeal of delight was heard which could mean only one source.

    "Oh, I knew it! I just knew it would be so. Oh, Jane, I am so happy for you!" Clapping her hands together in glee Mrs Bennet positively beamed at her husband. "Did I not tell you? I did, didn't I? Yes, yes. Some people would not believe me but I could see from the very beginning that you were perfectly suited for one another. Oh, where is my hankie?" She fluttered about her person, vainly searching for her lace handkerchief.

    "Will this one do?" blandly asked her husband. He held aloft his own linen handkerchief, the one his wife had given him on his most recent birthday, with his initials boldly embroidered in one corner.

    "Thank you, my dear." Mrs. Bennet gratefully accepted the offering and dabbed at her nose. "Such exciting news! We must tell the other girls!"

    "Ah, but there is still more news to be related."

    "What is this you say? More news? What is it, pray tell? Do not keep me in suspense!" The handkerchief was now suffering as she wrung it in her hands.

    "We shall have a second son-in-law to join the Bennet ranks," related Mr. Bennet. "Mr. Wickham has asked for the hand of -."

    "But it cannot be! Did you not hear me in the ballroom when I told you?" His wife was now beside herself with distraction. She moved toward the lieutenant, adopting an expression of sincere remorse. "I am sorry, Mr. Wickham, but Lizzy cannot marry you. I'm sure that it is very disappointing for you but -."

    "Madam," her husband curtly interrupted. "You have overstepped your bounds. Mr. Wickham has asked and been granted permission to marry our daughter." His tone silenced her. "Mary has accepted his offer, as well."

    Mrs. Bennet blinked. "Mary? He wants to marry Mary?" It took but a moment for her to adjust to this information. "Such wonderful news! My dear Mr. Bennet, did you ever suppose we should be so fortunate? Two daughters engaged in one evening!"

    "What is all this commotion?" an imperious voiced demanded. "I must know what is going on! Mr. Collins, these are you relations. What is all of this fuss?"

    "It appears, my Lady," the clergyman quickly supplied his explanation with a bow from which he did not recover, "that my two cousins, Miss Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet, have been made offers of marriage this evening."

    "Oh. I suppose that is reason enough for being excited but could you please advise your cousin's wife that her display is quite distasteful to the eye... and ear." Lady Catherine turned her attention back to Miss Bingley. "Now, what was I saying?"

    "Something about the soup," Fitzwilliam reminded her.

    "Of course," his aunt nodded. "Now, I shall need your brother to release his cook to my authority so that we may return to Rosings as soon as possible."

    "I'm not sure I understand what you mean," a puzzled Caroline responded.

    "What is there to understand? It is perfectly clear. My daughter and I shall be leaving for Rosings in the morning and your brother's cook will accompany us." Lady Catherine was impatient and her frosty gaze made it known.

    "May I ask why our cook is going to Rosings?" Miss Bingley was having difficulty comprehending the reason behind this action. Surely Rosings had a number of cooks that Lady Catherine did not need one more, least of all her brother's only one.

    "The soup, Miss Bingley. The soup." Lady Catherine breathed a frustrated sigh. "That soup has been a tonic for my Anne. Nothing has brought such colour to her cheeks and vivacity to her health. I simply must have it made for her every day at Rosings. Why, before long I shall be presenting her at court and every eligible man of fortune will be vying for her hand!"

    Caroline had her doubts about the soup being responsible for this change in Miss de Bourgh but held her tongue. It was enough to think how ridiculous it was to believe a simple food could inspire such extraordinary changes in a person's character. "Does my brother know of this?"

    "Of course not, you stupid girl," snapped Lady Catherine. "That is why I wish to speak with him."

    "Aunt Catherine," an offended Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected. "There is no need to be insulting."

    "Insulting?" The frosty gaze was turned on her nephew.

    The Colonel's eyes narrowed. "Insulting and rude."

    "Need I remind you of your place, Fitzwilliam?" Lady Catherine was not amused. "I will not be addressed in this manner."

    "I will not have you addressing Miss Bingley in that manner, either. Need I remind you of your place, aunt? You are a guest in her home." He took a step closer to Caroline, subtly placing himself between the two ladies.

    "Insufferable impudence!" Had the world gone mad around her? Lady Catherine stared at him, noticing for the first time how the young woman's arm was wound around her nephew's. "I see how it is now. I will forgive this outburst, Fitzwilliam, for you will come to your senses soon enough."

    To her horror his answer was, "It is all well and good for you to forgive my outburst but that still leaves us with the problem of yours."

    "Richard," whispered Caroline. "Please do not make things worse for yourself. She is your family, after all." Her voice compelled him to look at her, the expression in her eyes soft but urgent. "Please."

    The good opinion of his aunt was of little interest to him but Fitzwilliam was touched by the concern Miss Bingley showed for himself and his family. Most eligible young ladies with ambitions into his circle would have welcomed his defence of them, the alienation of an irascible aunt being of no consequence for she would only be an obstacle to achieving the ultimate goal. Could there be any better woman in all of England?

    "Disgraceful, insolent young man! Is this really my nephew? What corruption has been imposed upon you already cannot be too late to undo. You will return to Rosings with us." Sniffing disdainfully, Lady Catherine dusted her sleeves. "You need to be removed from the influence of this woman."

    "This woman!" repeated Fitzwilliam but his aunt had tired of the conversation. She dismissed his comment with a look over her shoulder to see what had become of Mr. Collins. The Colonel was provoked. "This woman, as you so coldly describe her, is to be the next Mrs. Fitzwilliam. I would thank you to remember that and treat her accordingly!"

    A small squeak of surprise was all that Caroline could manage upon hearing his bold proclamation. He had not asked her, had not even approached her brother, yet she was not offended. She was not shocked. Pleased and flattered, eager and excited was Miss Bingley. Never in her girlhood fantasies had she dreamt of a man sweeping her off her feet quite like this. It left her feeling rather breathless!

    Lady Catherine frowned. There really was nothing to be done about Fitzwilliam at the moment. The foolish young man had dropped himself in a mess and it would take more than a stern lecture on his familial obligations to extricate him this time. She left the couple staring dreamily into one another's eyes and turned her attention once more to locating Mr. Bingley. Of the remaining men in the room there was only one who could be Netherfield's master. Ruling out Mr. Collins, an older man who must be Mr. Bennet and a young man in military uniform, that left one in evening dress and she concluded him to be the man she sought. Without further adieu she requested his attendance for a brief interview. Bingley excused himself from Jane's presence as well as that of her mother and father before escorting Lady Catherine away from the assembled group.

    Mrs. Bennet lost no time in attaching herself to her daughter's arm, immediately launching into her ideas for the wedding. Drawing Mary aside as well, she soon had her girls in rapt attention... or at least unable to get a word in edgewise. Mr. Bennet took advantage of this opportunity to escape but did not get very far before Mr. Collins slid up beside him, obviously intent on speaking. Perceiving that his entertainment for the evening was far from over, Mr. Bennet politely greeted his cousin.

    "Have you come to offer your congratulations, Mr. Collins?"

    The clergyman bobbed uncertainly, leading the other man to wonder how much punch he had consumed. "Oh, yes," he smirked at last. "What good fortune has befallen you and your family, cousin. I cannot help but be concerned for Miss Elizabeth, though. The engagement of her elder sister is a wonderful event but that of her younger one..." Here Mr. Collins placed a hand to his mouth as if imparting a secret which he feared another would hear. "May I caution you, sir, that an announcement of Miss Mary's betrothal before Miss Elizabeth's would place her in a most awkward position."

    "I assure you that Mary is more than capable of dealing with any ill opinions directed her way."

    "I fear you have misunderstood me." Mr. Collins hurried to correct him. "It is Miss Elizabeth's reputation that would suffer with a younger sister marrying before her. Such things will be said that should not reach a lady's ears, certainly not a lady as sweet and charming and innocent of the charges that will be made. It is for this express purpose that I have approached you now. Having already requested your approval in seeking the hand of the lovely Miss Elizabeth I feel it is my duty to offer her my protection from the bitter tongues of envious and spiteful individuals."

    "Oh, that will not be necessary, Mr. Collins." Mr. Bennet pressed his lips firmly together to avoid betraying his amusement.

    "Lady Catherine, my noble patroness, will have no objection and may even offer the use of her carriage for the drive back to Hunsford." The young clergyman was becoming quite excited at the prospect. He rubbed his hands together and swayed from one foot to the other, all the while looking anywhere but directly at Mr. Bennet. It was as if he was seeing his future played out before him on an invisible canvas. "Although I have not had the privilege of securing her acceptance, yet, I know Miss Elizabeth with be gratified to know that you have already approved."

    "There really is no need -."

    Mr. Collins held up a hand to stem his cousin's words. "Please do not thank me. This Christian act is the very least I could do under the circumstances. Shall I speak with Miss Elizabeth or do you feel it your duty to inform her of the happy news?"

    "Oh, please do," managed Mr. Bennet. "I would not deprive you of the benefit of witnessing my daughter's delight when you tell her."

    Bowing low, Mr. Collins effusively expressed his gratefulness as he backed away. Once standing again, he searched the room for Elizabeth's location, at last spotting what surely was the skirt of her gown behind the impeccably attired form of Mr. Darcy. Eager to impart the change in their circumstances he was at first offended that the lady was not alone but was then flattered to see that Mr. Darcy was thoughtful enough to be shielding her from the prying eyes of the rest of those gathered in the room. There could be no doubt that she was distressed. How could she not be? To be slighted in such a manner, overlooked for her younger sister! Ah, but she would soon be relieved of the burden of spinsterhood and that saviour would be none other but himself. Mr. Collins could barely restrain his excitement as he approached them; his heavy breathing gave away his presence before he could announce himself.

    "Mr. Collins!" a breathless Elizabeth cried. Her face was flushed with the evidence of recent weeping.

    The gentleman appeared not to notice. "I beg your pardon Mr. Darcy but I have come to speak with my cousin on a very urgent matter. I'm sure you understand given the recent turn of events." Darcy slowly turned to regard the person responsible for interrupting them. Even his steady gaze was not enough to fully deflate Mr. Collins. "I would beg you excuse us for a moment, sir."

    "I beg you would not," murmured Elizabeth, quietly enough that only Darcy could hear. He had no intention of abandoning her to the clutches of this ridiculous toady, however.

    "As you see, I am currently speaking with Miss Bennet." Darcy fixed Mr. Collins with a steady gaze and used the voice he reserved for disciplining servants. "Leave us."

    It was unfortunate for Mr. Collins that the euphoria of his recent good fortune prompted him to disobey this command from the nephew of Lady Catherine for he would soon be reminded of their familial connection. "Under ordinary circumstances I would, naturally, honour your request Mr. Darcy but the situation is such that I must reveal the honour that has been bestowed upon myself and Miss Elizabeth; we are to be joined as man and wife!" His smug smile gave him the appearance of a grotesque frog that had just swallowed a horsefly.

    "Never!" That one word thundered across the space between the two men. Darcy drew himself up straight, his full height bringing him towering over the now quivering Collins. "You will not be marrying Miss Elizabeth. That privilege is mine and mine alone."

    The clergyman's lips flapped uselessly. "Y-y-you are marrying her?"

    "Are you deaf?" Darcy refrained from adding as well as stupid. Mr. Collins was clearly unable to form any further reply. Taking Elizabeth's hand, Darcy's expression softened and his voice became quiet once again. "Come, my dear. Let us speak with your father." They left the stunned clergyman behind without a second glance. Elizabeth's smile had returned within seconds and when they joined her father there was no doubt what Darcy was about to say.

    "Well, young man, I take it my daughter is not unwilling to have you?"

    "Papa," Elizabeth blushed, "can you not be serious for even one moment?"

    "Lizzy, how can I possibly be serious when this evening has seen an almost miraculous occurrence?" Mr. Bennet's eyes twinkled. "Your mother has foretold two of these matches. Do you not think that a miracle?"

    Darcy chuckled, surprising both of his companions. "I doubt anyone could have foretold that particular match." He directed Elizabeth's attention to where his own cousin, Fitzwilliam, stood in an intimate embrace with Miss Bingley.

    "Mr. Bingley!" Mr. Bennet called. "What a profitable evening you have provided, sir. Four engagements in the space of twenty minutes!"

    "Four?" squealed Mrs. Bennet. "Four? What are you saying? Who are these other couples?" She came hurrying over to her husband, pulling both Jane and Mary by the hand. "Do not tease me. Say you are not teasing me!"

    "If that is not an engaged couple then I dare say they will be soon." Gesturing to Fitzwilliam and Caroline, Mr. Bennet calculated the time required before he would need to reveal the identity of the fourth couple and was not far wrong. Three seconds was all it took for his wife to lose interest in that pair.

    "And??" she prompted.

    "Caroline!" cried Bingley, finally noticing his sister's unusual behaviour. "What are you doing?"

    "Darcy!" barked Lady Catherine. "My carriage leaves in the morning. Have Georgiana ready immediately after breakfast."

    "I am not going!" protested Miss Darcy who had remained unnoticed in all the fuss. She ran to her brother's side as her aunt drew near. "Tell her I'm not going to Rosings, Fitzwilliam!"

    "Enough of this foolishness, Georgiana. You need a woman's guidance and you will not find that at Pemberley."

    "On the contrary, Lady Catherine," Darcy said in a loud voice, stepping forward but maintaining his hold on Elizabeth's arm. "A woman's guidance is what Georgiana will have at Pemberley, very soon. Miss Elizabeth Bennet has this evening accepted my offer of marriage and will become the new Mistress of Pemberley."

    If asked later, no-one was quite sure who hit the floor first; Mrs. Bennet or Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

    Epilogue

    Posted on Thursday, 14 August 2003, at 11:07 a.m.


    One Year Later

    "Tea?"

    "Tea! I should think something stronger would be in order." Mr. Bennet poured brandy into several glasses and handed one to each of his daughter's husbands. "May it be a short wait."

    "Aye," chorused the others before raising their glasses and drinking.

    "What time is it?" Bingley asked.

    Darcy looked at his watch. "Ten minutes since you last asked."

    "Has there been any word?" Wickham tapped the side of his glass thoughtfully.

    Mr. Bennet shook his head. A change of subject was required. "Have you found any suitable prospects in your search for an estate, Bingley?"

    "Hmmm? Oh, yes. There are three I've arranged to view," he replied absently. "Darcy is familiar with one of them."

    As no comment was forthcoming from that gentleman Mr. Bennet prompted him. "Darcy?"

    "Yes?" He stared blankly at his father-in-law, wondering what he was being asked.

    Mr. Bennet gave a sigh. "Have you been assisting Bingley with finding an estate?"

    Nodding in confirmation, Darcy stood to relieve the tension in his legs. "I was fortunate to have heard about a property with which I was familiar in a neighbouring county. It is well worth the price and will serve Bingley and his family for many years."

    "Ah, very good." Silence reigned again for several minutes as the mantel clock ticked the seconds. Mr. Bennet mused on the circumstances of the past year that had brought them all together here, awaiting the birth of a baby. Mr. Bingley had been comfortably settled at Netherfield for many months but even his good nature could not withstand the daily assault upon his senses by his mother-in-law. In recent weeks he and Jane had been looking over several property recommendations that had been supplied by Bingley's attorneys. Mr. Bennet clearly understood their need to move further away even if he didn't like it. It was difficult enough that Elizabeth was a full two days of travel away in the North. This was the only complaint he could find in the marriage of his favourite daughter. The young couple gave every appearance of domestic bliss and private conversations with Elizabeth proved it was no different in reality. So pleased was he for the happiness of his two eldest daughters that Mr. Bennet found no room to be envious. As for his third son-in-law, nothing short of the word 'incredible' could describe the changes observed in him in these months following his marriage to Mary. Military life did not appeal to Mary Wickham and, if truth be told, neither did it appeal to George. Under her strict management their household budget flourished, or more precisely their savings did, such that Lieutenant Wickham was able to cash himself out of the army when an unparalleled offer arose. His wife's uncle, Mr. Philips, always a soft touch when it came to Mary, chose to redirect his will and make the husband of his favoured niece the recipient of his business interests and what little property he owned. There was a condition attached to this, of course, and that was Mr. Wickham's immediate immersion into the business, seeing as he had made some previous study of the law, albeit a curtailed venture. With Mary's guidance, her husband applied himself studiously and their savings were prudently utilised to forward his education and subsequently his career which began near, but not at, the bottom of the clerk positions of her uncle's practice.

    "What time is it?"

    "Ten minutes since you last asked."

    Chuckling at the impatience of the young men, Mr. Bennet next directed his thoughts to events of that night at Netherfield. What a shock to all when the collection of engagements and elopements had been discovered! Bingley and Jane had been expected, even predicted by many, but Darcy and Lizzy? Sir William seemed to be one of the few who saw that match as inevitable long before the evening of the Ball. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, once she had recovered from the concussion sustained from the impact of her head on the floor, found no reason to object to her nephews' choices in brides. Her own daughter, at one time absurdly promised to Darcy, had soon thereafter cultivated a life of her own, taking her mother to London and hosting soirees that were the envy of the ton. Lady Catherine had been appalled at first, her darling daughter having spent her entire life in an invalid's existence, but soon warmed to the change in lifestyle. It was even rumoured that she was seen kicking up her heels at Almack's.

    Picking up the decanter he refilled the glasses of the other men. "Bingley, how fares your sister?" he asked as he topped up that man's brandy.

    "Oh, she's fine. Hurst seems to have adapted well to fatherhood. It's amazing how a baby can turn anyone into a babbling idiot." Bingley smiled, thinking of the impending arrival in the room above them.

    "And your other sister?"

    Distracted from his distraction, Bingley replied, "Yes, Caroline is quite well, too. I would never have believed it possible but she is actually enjoying the life of a officer's wife. Where are they now?" he asked of Darcy.

    The other man looked up, holding out his glass as Mr. Bennet directed. "I had a letter from Fitzwilliam last week. All he could tell me is that they are on the Continent, not that I couldn't divine that from the postmark. Everything is shrouded in secrecy these days."

    Bingley sat up straighter, suddenly very interested. "Did he say anything about Caroline? How is she coping with the deprivation of luxuries?"

    "Did he say anything about Caroline?" Darcy snorted. "Does he say anything else? You'd think no other woman existed on this planet the way he goes on about her. Fear not, Bingley. Your sister would make a satin blanket out of a moth-eaten rag and a four course dinner out of a potato if you believe what my cousin has to say about her."

    "Ah, that sounds like a match made in heaven," laughed Mr. Bennet.

    "Speaking of cousins," Wickham suddenly said, "has there been any word about Mr. Collins since...."

    "Since he ran off with Miss King?" Darcy was still highly offended by the thought that the man had actually entertained the notion that he would have married Elizabeth.

    "Silly girl." Mr. Bennet shook his head. "She was extremely fortunate that the militia was quick in responding."

    "And that Mr. Collins has no sense of direction," Bingley chuckled. "Imagine getting a mere three miles from Netherfield, making a wrong turn and being discovered practically on my doorstep." All four men laughed at that. "Such a diversion for Colonel Forster, though. Sending his men off in search of Collins and Miss King while he escapes with Miss Charlotte Lucas!"

    "Rather clever of him, I thought," Darcy mused. "Miss Lucas, or Mrs. Forster I should say, suits him far better than the young lady he originally had chosen. She and Elizabeth were close friends and have kept up a regular campaign of letter writing. The couple is comfortably settled and quite happy."

    "Yes, that is what Sir William and Lady Lucas have said," chuckled his friend. "Of course, they had to get over the shock of the elopement first."

    "I did have a letter from Mr. Collins," Mr. Bennet finally spoke. "A couple of months ago, I believe it was. I have no idea how he managed but he did secure the forgiveness of your aunt, Darcy, and although she removed him from the Hunsford parish there was another living that became vacant when she moved one clergyman to replace him. He is not as well off as before but this village is more remote and had not heard about his little misadventure."

    A frown appeared on Wickham's brow. "I wonder at his impertinence in contacting you."

    Darcy rolled his eyes heavenward. He would never become accustomed to this new George Wickham. If Mary Wickham's penchant for quoting Fordyce wasn't enough, her husband's newfound moral backbone found him echoing his wife with examples from the scriptures. Fitzwilliam Darcy was as faithful a churchgoer as one would find but hearing these words from the mouth of one of the most profligate men he'd had the misfortune to know was difficult to accept. He kept expecting Elizabeth to receive a letter from her family, bemoaning the disappearance of the delightful Mr. Wickham once he'd grown weary of the charade of married life. The moralising had gone on for too long for it to be an act, however, and Darcy was genuinely mystified at his sister-in-law's power over her husband.

    "His letter," Mr. Bennet was explaining, "was primarily intended to convey his congratulations. He had heard the news although I'm not sure how."

    "Ah, I suppose we may thank my aunt for that." Setting his glass down on a table, Darcy walked to the window and gazed out on the darkening landscape. "Lady Catherine has maintained an active correspondence with myself and more frequently with my sister. It would have given her great pleasure to see Mr. Collins' reaction to the news of this expected birth."

    "No doubt it would," wryly agreed Mr. Bennet.

    Once again there was silence. The fire crackled in the grate. Footsteps sounded outside the door and as one the men looked up when it opened. As one they sighed in disappointment when Lydia was revealed in the opening. She marched across the room, the heels of her shoes banging on the floor with every step. Throwing herself into Darcy's vacant chair she heaved a great sigh and lamented,

    "Lord, how dull it is up there."

    When there was no response from any of the gentlemen her face was transformed by a pout and she sulkily added, "Nobody wants to do anything."

    "I think they are all a bit busy at the moment," offered Bingley, rather charitably the others thought.

    "Trouble produces patience, patience produces tested virtue, and tested virtue produces hope."

    Lydia's head lolled back against the chair and she shot Wickham a long-suffering look. "You know I hate it when you do that."

    Putting a stop to an argument before it could begin, Mr. Bennet addressed his daughter. "What is happening upstairs?"

    "Nothing much." Lydia inspected her fingernails.

    Darcy's frown deepened. This particular sister of Elizabeth he found most annoying. The conversation in the room would be stifled with her presence. With this in mind he left the window alcove to approach her seat and stood, looking down at her. "I'm sure there is something you may find to do that would be of assistance."

    "Why should I -," she began but then glanced up to see the figure of her most intimidating brother. "Y-yes. I g-guess I could." Lydia excused herself and quickly left the room.

    "Well done, Darcy," Bingley exclaimed.

    "Yes," added Wickham. "Idle hands are the -."

    "Just shut it!"

    Wickham blinked but complied. The minutes ticked by in silence. Bingley stared into the fire, Wickham contemplated the words of the last Sunday's sermon and Darcy returned to his station at the window. Mr. Bennet observed them all, amused by their preoccupation. He thought about reading a book but it would be nowhere near as entertaining as watching the three other men. Having been through this waiting game five times already there was nothing really new in the experience. He tried to remember what it was like all those years ago, the first time, when Jane was born. The memory of the event eluded him but not the feelings. The rush of excitement, the thrill of hearing the baby's first cry, pride of a new father; all of these erased the weariness of hours of pacing and worrying. There was no disappointment upon discovering he had a daughter instead of a son. After five, however, the novelty had worn off. Mr. Bennet looked upon his daughters' husbands again. What will they be feeling when that moment comes?

    "What time is-?

    "Oh, for crying out loud, look at the clock!"

    "Gentlemen, gentlemen," Mr. Bennet hastened to say. "I think it high time we have something to eat." He rang for Hill and informed her that they would be requiring refreshments. "None of this biscuits and fruit nonsense, either. Meat, cold if there is none hot, and breads."

    It was only a matter of moments before the meal appeared, proving that Hill and her kitchen staff let nothing interfere with their duties. Upheaval in the household was reserved for the family. The male members of the family now set to the fare eagerly, only realising how hungry they were when the food was before them. Thankfully there was no need for conversation during those first few minutes that the gentlemen sated their appetites. This proved extremely fortunate for it was not long after talk resumed that the noises from above stairs took on a different sound. A hurried footstep was heard on the landing and all of them, though never admitting it, collectively held their breaths, waiting for the door to open.

    And open it did.

    Kitty smiled broadly at them.

    "Yes?" Four pairs of eyes pinned her to the spot.

    "A boy!" she excitedly reported.

    "I cannot believe it. After all these years..." Mr. Bennet suddenly knew how his wife felt when she called for her smelling salts... just before everything went dark.

    "Oh, my." Kitty's hand strayed to her mouth. She watched helplessly as her sister's husbands carried her father to the sofa. "I suppose it's a good thing I didn't mention that it's twins?"

    "Twins?" Darcy looked at her, waiting for the rest of her news.

    Kitty nodded. "Twin boys! Just think! I have five brothers now!"

    With those words, the fate of William Collins was sealed. The heir to Longbourn no more, he lost what little favour remained with Lady Catherine and lived a long and lonely life in a remote parish in Kent, preaching to a congregation of elderly parishioners whose hearing had failed them many years previously.

    Less than three months later, Charles and Jane Bingley welcomed their daughter, Elizabeth Anne, to their family. She was born two weeks after they moved to a new estate, purchased by Bingley after the recommendation of his friend and brother-in-law had proved to be just the place the young couple was looking for.

    Society in London was amazed to learn of the sudden marriage, by special license, of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the elderly Earl of - . After months of chaperoning her daughter Anne de Bourgh, the heiress of Rosings Park, to every party and social gathering imaginable, Lady Catherine decided that there was more fun to be had in a marriage of her own than in trying to arrange her daughter's. Anne, for all the advice and guidance her mother had provided, quickly fell prey to a fortune hunter who subsequently lost Rosings Park in a game of dice. Anne obtained a divorce and moved in with her mother and the Earl, never hearing the end of it until the day she died.

    Mary Wickham's exposure to the rigours of childbirth when witnessing her mother's labours that day gave her the strength to resist all temptation to enter into the state of motherhood herself. Her husband, although not unduly disappointed to escape the responsibilities of being a father, did experience profound dissatisfaction with the methods employed to retain this childless state. He sought, and found, solace in the writings of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

    After a very brief courtship, which was conducted in private and the remote paths surrounding Meryton, Lydia Bennet eloped to Gretna Green with Lieutenant Denny. It had not come as a great surprise, and was even less of a concern considering the expense of two new babies to clothe and feed, but Mrs. Bennet allowed a small amount of motherly affection to persuade her husband to supply the young couple with a one way ticket to London, where Lydia had always wanted to go. This suited Denny as well. He had timed the elopement with a two week leave from his regiment and during their time in London performed so well in the gaming parlours that he was able to present his young bride with the keys to a new home before his leave was up. Rosings Park had never seen the likes of its new mistress in all the years it had stood and was about to be rocked to its very foundation.

    Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to England after serving six months in France, helping His Majesty's Forces in the battle against Nappy. His nappy days were only beginning, however, as he was accompanied by his wife and six orphaned babies that she had rescued from a burning town. Caroline and Fitzwilliam were warmly welcomed at Matlock, the home of his parents, and his father provided the means of procuring a more permanent abode in the form of a large manor house within a half hour's ride of their own estate. It wanted only a little fixing up which the Earl was only too happy to arrange. Lady Matlock was able to visit her 'grandchildren' daily for she had found them irresistible and her experienced assistance was gratefully received by Mrs. Fitzwilliam. So delightful was this family circle that in no short time it was apparent that it would be enlarged with the addition of another, this time not a rescued orphan but a baby of their own, created in the image of her lovely mother, or so Colonel Fitzwilliam hoped. Caroline, for her part, wished for a little boy to complement her beloved husband's own boyish nature. Neither would be disappointed as eventually their family would be increased by four more babies before it was complete.

    By the end of the summer Elizabeth Darcy had given birth to a son, the dilemma of selecting a name having left him with one that was far too big for such a little person. 'Henry Bennet George Fitzwilliam Darcy' was forthwith shortened to 'George Bennet Darcy' within a week of his arrival. His father had recovered from the periodic bursts of short temper that Elizabeth inflicted in the early months of her pregnancy and could be seen escorting his wife and son on daily tours of the grounds of Pemberley. Some might call him proud and they would be right.

    The End

    © 2002, 2003 Copyright held by the author.