Chapter One

Posted on Sunday, 29 October 2006

The door to the Netherfield library opened, Darcy striding into the room with determination. He pushed the door closed behind him but it failed to latch, standing slightly ajar. He did not notice. His mind was reeling from the activities in the ballroom.

How could such a woman be the mother of Elizabeth! It is incomprehensible!

He paced the floor from window to desk, back and forth, until frustration reached its peak and he collapsed into a chair. Letting his head fall into his hands, Darcy silently bemoaned the unfairness of it all.

Why must she be the daughter of a nobody? How could the most suitable woman I’ve ever met be in such an unsuitable situation with no connections and no fortune? And such sisters!

He laid his head back, staring at the ceiling high above him. For some moments he continued to look upward, seeing nothing but the vision of Elizabeth Bennet in all her intoxicating beauty. The swishing of the door startled him almost enough to make him leap from the chair but at the last second the sight of the lady who entered kept him pinned in his place.

Elizabeth walked slowly into the library, her thoughts not on the limited selection of books which lined the shelves, but somewhere outside the room. Her brow was lined in a frown, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

How could my mother make such a scene! And in front of Mr. Darcy, too! It is too humiliating; my sisters’ behaviour too mortifying!

Darcy sat perfectly still. He closed his eyes until the merest slits allowed him to observe the lady’s movement about the room.

If I appear asleep she may be persuaded that she can escape without being seen and be spared embarrassment. He suppressed the further notion that the quieter he was, the longer it may be until she noticed his figure, giving him more time to admire hers.

It was a good plan, for Miss Bennet began to pace in front of the bookshelves. Within moments, her concentration was disturbed by an irritation too intense to ignore. She came to a halt in front of the fire, briefly glanced toward the door and, satisfied that it was closed, bent down to catch the hem of her skirts in her hands.

Darcy’s eyes flew open as Elizabeth raised her skirt and petticoats to reveal her dainty shoes, delicate ankles and shapely lower legs. With meticulous care she slipped off her shoe and placed one foot upon the edge of the grating, then began to slowly pull at her stocking, beginning at the toe and working her way up the length of her leg.

Darcy felt his jaw hanging open and prayed that the moan he’d heard was in his mind and hadn’t escaped his throat. As Elizabeth appeared undisturbed, he relaxed slightly, but then realised the impropriety of continuing to observe. Closing his eyes, however, was no better. Behind the lids the vision of Miss Bennet’s bare limbs persisted. Once again he opened them just enough to see but hopefully still appear to be asleep.

Elizabeth clipped the last garter into place and replaced her shoe. Darcy began to breathe again until she raised the other leg and the ritual was repeated.

The fire flickering behind her cast a warm glow on Elizabeth’s skin. She rubbed one hand up the back of her calf, easing a cramped muscle then stretched her leg, wiggling her toes. She dared not indulge for long in case someone should come looking for her. Sighing, she put her shoes on and let her skirts fall back into place around her.

Her mind lightened of a burden, Elizabeth shook her head, resigned to returning to the ballroom and enduring the rest of the evening. She was so absorbed in her own distressful thoughts that it was a good ten minutes before her perambulations brought her so close to Darcy’s chair that she very nearly sat down in it without looking. At the last possible moment she seemed to notice that something was amiss and gave a startled squeak, quickly covering her mouth with one hand.

She must have held her breath, watching him, for at least two minutes, during which time Darcy feared he would be discovered. The look on her face was enchanting. If his breathing did not give him away, other parts of his body might.

At last Miss Bennet took a step backward. She seemed about to turn to leave when her expression changed to one of puzzlement, or perhaps curiosity. She studied Darcy, moving closer. With each step her eyes roamed across his form. A small smile, a smirk, then her eyes widened and a blush suffused her cheeks. She was by this time so close that Darcy could reach out to grasp her hands.

“Oh!” she cried, struggling to maintain her balance.

Darcy left his seat, rising to stand in front of her, still holding her hands and drawing her toward him to counteract her backward motion. “Forgive me for startling you, Miss Bennet.”

Her eyes widened even more with his mouth so near her own. “It is entirely my own fault M.. Mr. Darcy.” She made a half-hearted attempt to free her hands.

“Are you quite safe?” he asked. As one corner of his mouth rose in a sly grin, he added, “You are not in any danger of falling?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “No. I mean yes! I am in no danger... of falling.”

“I see.” His fingers slowly relaxed, although his hands did not completely withdraw their hold. His eyes remained fixed on hers.

Elizabeth’s cheeks were scarlet. She felt heat radiating from Darcy’s body and her body growing warm in response. She had no explanation for the sudden weakness in her knees nor the failure of her lips to form words of protest. If he did not step away soon, she knew her legs would give way and leave her in a most undignified situation.

“Miss Bennet.”

His voice sounded very far away.

“Are you quite alright?”

She felt her legs go, Darcy’s arms supporting her, and then she was looking up into his face, her lips parting soundlessly.

He was powerless to resist. Darcy’s mouth lowered to meet hers, the taste of her kiss sweet and warm. Lost in the glory of it, recollection returned with a suddenness that set them both scrambling to resume more respectful positions.

Elizabeth busied herself with adjusting her skirt and pushing back stray locks of hair while Darcy pulled at the bottom edge of his waistcoat and tugged his breeches into a more comfortable attitude.

“Miss Bennet,” he began when the silence could go on no longer. “I beg your forgiveness. I have no excuse to offer for my unseemly, ungentlemanlike behaviour.”

Elizabeth blinked, unsure of an appropriate response. “Well... er... I am not... forgiveness is mine to bestow, Mr. Darcy, though why you think I should I do not know.”

He stared, shocked into silence by her playful smile and the spark in her eyes.

Wondering if her intent had been misunderstood, she said, “I did not mean that I am unwilling to forgive you, sir.” She suddenly felt very missish and looked away.

Try as he might, Darcy could not banish from his mind the image of her adjusting her stockings. This was of no assistance in formulating a reply capable of redeeming himself.

“I think it is time I return to the ballroom.”

He looked up at that. Seeming about to speak, he then closed his mouth, his lips pressed together. As Elizabeth turned away Darcy called out, “Miss Bennet?” She paused, glancing back at him. “I apologise for offending you.”

One of her eyebrows arched in an impertinent question. Elizabeth wondered for which, or how many of his offenses the apology was meant. “Should I sketch your character now, Mr. Darcy?”

“I beg you, no!” he quickly replied with some anxiety. Whether she judged him contemptible for his dealings with Wickham, or a rake for his dealings with her.... was there any significant difference in the merit of either?

Again her eyebrow questioned him. “I fear my own character might suffer as well. I shudder to think what your opinion of me must be now.”

Darcy considered that she did not look in the least alarmed but rather amused. The delicious flirtation in her manner excited him. “Suffer? I assure you, Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice taking on a low, caressing timbre. “I can imagine no lady who could approach the level of respect I have for you.” He was astonished at her expression of surprise and confusion. Did my kiss not prove that to her? The thought of demonstrating his feelings once more occurred to him but in his mind he saw her fingers slide up the contours of her leg and that image alone put him in danger.

“Mr. Darcy, I...” She left the comment unfinished, as if even she did not know what she was about to say.

“Shall I escort you back to the hall or would you prefer to go out first, so that we are not seen together?”

Elizabeth looked at the gentleman as if she’d never met him before. Something inside of her whispered that another kiss would be nice before she left but a second voice, sounding uncannily like her sister Mary, reproved the notion as shockingly wanton. “I’m not sure,” was what issued from her mouth, in answer to his question or her conscience wasn’t certain. It did not help matters that he was looking at her rather oddly.

“You appear a bit unsteady, Elizabeth.”

Did he just call me Elizabeth? She had no objection when he took her arm.

“I think some fresh air may help.”

A kiss would help more. She blushed with the thought and allowed Darcy to lead her through the terrace doors instead of to the hallway.

The air had a decided chill. It was November after all. Elizabeth shivered. Darcy slipped off his coat, laying it across her shoulders, still warm from the heat of his body. She sighed, a soft moan accompanying the release of air. Darcy stirred beside her and she quickly glanced at him.

Her eyes were drawn to the impeccable knot at his throat, an irrational urge to see the silk untied. How odd! she thought. Earlier this evening I could easily have contemplated strangling him with it. The pure white, flawless quality of his shirt was a vivid reminder of the man’s wealth and status, just as the polished leather dancing shoes, fine hose and the cut of his formal breeches showed off his.....

Abruptly, she forced her eyes to focus higher, only to discover him watching her. “Thank you,” she finally said.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement of her words. “The honour is mine,” he said.

Amused, Elizabeth tilted her chin upward and thought the possibility of a kiss likely, when there came the sound of voices further along the terrace and coming closer.

Of the same mind, they said in unison, “Perhaps we should go in now.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly, releasing Darcy’s arm and preceding him into the library. “I believe I shall return to my family now, Mr. Darcy,” she announced, handing him his jacket. “Thank you... very much.”

He bowed low, the jacket draped over one arm, and watched her leave. When she was gone he crossed to the only mirror in the room and inspected his appearance. Apart from a brightness in his eyes and flush in his face, there wasn’t anything remarkable to be seen. One thing did bother him, though.

Cursed cutaway coat! How am I to get through the rest of the evening when all I can see is her legs... those beautiful legs!

Chapter Two

Posted on Sunday, 5 November 2006

Relieved that her mother hadn’t noted her absence, Elizabeth went directly to the punch bowl to pour herself a glass of the cool refreshment. She would not draw attention to herself by fanning her flushed face but could rely on the effects of the punch to explain the colour which overspread her skin’s surface.

Charlotte joined her, casting a curious glance at her friend and observing, “Mr. Darcy has just entered the room and I dare say he appears a trifle out of sorts. Well, how about that! I’m sure he looked over the room, took careful note of our location, and has gone in the opposite direction! Lizzy, what on earth have you done to offend him?”

“Me?” cried her companion. “You have a vivid imagination, Charlotte. He was probably looking for someone in particular and discovered her to be in that part of the room.”

“Her?”

“Or him. Oh, Charlotte, does it matter? There. He’s speaking with Miss Bingley, proving me correct.”

Darcy was, indeed, in the company of Miss Bingley, although conversation was not edifying. On the contrary, Darcy was having difficulty keeping his attention on the lady’s droning voice. The entire length of her monologue was spent in denigrating the local ladies, particularly Bennets, while simultaneously picking apart an arrangement of flowers on the table in front of her. Darcy heard none of her diatribe as the dismantling of the bouquet was slowly revealing a shapely vase which remarkably resembled the contours of Miss Elizabeth’s –.

“You are perfectly right,” he quickly said, instantly bringing his mind to bear on Miss Bingley’s unappealing voice. If anything could squelch these feelings that kept arising, then it would undoubtedly be the temptations that only Caroline could provide.

“Oh, I knew you would see it my way, Mr. Darcy!” Her voice was just what he had hoped, high pitched and penetrating, sending every thought of desire for Miss Bennet from his head. “Now, once Charles has left for town tomorrow we shall pack everything up and follow him directly. It won’t take you a minute to persuade him to stay there, I’m sure.”

He was undecided whether listening to her speak had been a good decision or bad, now that his mind was once again brought back to considering his friend’s obvious attentions to Miss Bennet. Darcy glanced around the room, trying to locate Bingley among the various bodies. Bodies... legs... Miss Bennet... Miss Bennet’s legs.... “Excuse me.” Darcy hastily bowed and fled.

The direction he chose brought him perilously close to Elizabeth Bennet and so Darcy sought another route... which brought him face to face with her mother.

“Mr. Darcy!” The lady eyed him warily.

He bowed politely. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bennet. Forgive my clumsiness.”

She stared at him, disbelief clearly written on her face. “It is quite alright, sir,” she replied in wonderment.

Bowing again, Darcy left her to her excited chatter with Lady Lucas and set off across the room once more. Bingley appeared suddenly, giving his friend an odd look.

“Darcy! I thought you were... well, never mind. Have you seen Miss Bennet?”

Seen her! By God, yes I’ve seen her! Darcy thought before collecting himself. “Miss Jane Bennet?” he asked, then cleared his throat for his voice sounded strangely weak. “Of course, she may be over there but–.” He turned to indicate Elizabeth’s location, belatedly realising that he hadn’t actually noticed who was near when he’d been forced to distance himself earlier. “Oh, it is Miss Lucas. Tell me, Bingley, how did you come to lose her?” Darcy was reminded yet again of Sir William’s allusions when interrupting his time in the dance with Elizabeth and found it absurdly amusing that Bingley should let the lady out of his sight given the power of his feelings.

“I stepped out to... um... get something and, well, obviously she has moved to another room.” Bingley’s expression became smug. “Anyway, I have no need to be embarrassed.”

“No, you don’t,” his friend calmly replied. “The dancing will recommence soon, I expect. Your guests seem satisfied so you may consider the ball a success.”

“Only if I see you dancing again,” laughed Bingley. “But I know how likely that would be! I’m going to find Jane– Miss Bennet.” He gave his friend one last curious look and then he was gone.

Darcy puzzled for some time on Bingley’s odd behaviour. It provided a diversion from his mind’s preferred subject. A renewed consideration of Sir William’s notions, anticipation of a marriage between Bingley and Jane Bennet, the opportunity to dance again with Elizabeth, to be in her presence for hours... perchance to steal another k –.

“Mr. Darcy!”

He came back to the present with a start. “Miss... Bennet!” He blinked several times to clear his thoughts.

Lydia pursed her lips, plainly dissatisfied and wishing to say something. “The dancing is about to start again.” When he did not reply she sighed melodramatically and said, “You are standing in the way, Mr. Darcy.”

He looked about them, now seeing the various couples assembling while the musicians were readying their instruments. “So I am,” he said, looking down at Lydia. “Thank you for the timely warning.” Immediately Darcy tried to pick out Elizabeth in the crowd but her younger sister was not done with him yet.

“Have you met our cousin, Mr. Collins?”

Eyebrows rising, Darcy briefly nodded. “I have.”

Carefully maintaining her place directly in front of the gentleman and facing him, Lydia lowered her voice so that it carried to only half the room. “He threatened to dance with us all but so far I have managed to avoid him. Look, Mr. Darcy!” She pointed vaguely somewhere behind her. “He’s coming for me now, I know it! Won’t you help me?”

Darcy stared at her in horror. “What would you propose I do, Miss Bennet?”

“Propose! Oh, how lovely!” she squealed, causing all heads to turn in their direction. “Of course it may not be so simple, sir.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.” Anxious to escape her now, Darcy called out to the man who was the cause of his current distress. “Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins, a word please.”

The parson scurried over, ever the attentive servant. “How may I serve you, noble sir?”

“Your young cousin is desirous of a dance, Mr. Collins. Do find her a suitable partner but not yourself.” Darcy turned to bow to Lydia. “Excuse me, Miss Bennet. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.” He quickly exited the ballroom.

Elizabeth had watched the entire scene from a spot close enough to hear every word that was said. She coloured in mortification for her sister’s ill manners but what puzzled her most was Mr. Darcy himself. What is wrong with the man this evening? Instantly she corrected herself. No, not wrong. There is nothing wrong with him. That’s the problem! He’s doing everything right! She touched her fingers to her lips as if his kiss had not been on her mind continuously since they had parted in the library. Well, that was wrong, but then again.... it felt so right...

In her mind she could see him, asleep in the chair, looking completely at ease and very handsome! Her wrists tingled with the memory of his hands firmly wrapped about them.

Then the kiss!

As if it was happening all over again, Elizabeth tilted her head to allow him easier access to her lips. She could almost feel the heat of his mouth on hers....

“Lizzy, why aren’t you dancing?”

She focussed on her father, who was watching her with a quizzical expression. “I was not asked, Papa,” she replied, hoping her voice was steady.

“With all the officers here? How negligent of them. I should have a word with Colonel Forster if I were you, Lizzy. Shirking their duties, that’s what it is.”

“Oh, Papa. I am not bothered, truly.”

Mr. Bennet leaned closer and winked. “Do not let your mother hear you say that lest she insist you dance with Mr. Collins again.” When his daughter looked about in alarm he chuckled. ‘You are safe for the moment. I believe my cousin is intent on finding Mr. Darcy to confirm the performance of his duty as charged and to seek another mission to demonstrate his usefulness.”

“Poor Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth could not prevent a smile from forming, although it was not for the reason her father imagined.

“Should I put a word in Mr. Darcy’s ear about your lack of partner?” Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide but Mr. Bennet blithely continued. “He could send Mr. Collins out to procure one for you. What say you to that, Lizzy?”

She tried her best to laugh but the events of the evening had taken a toll. “I’d just as happily refrain from dancing altogether. My feet are quite worn out.”

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed. “There is still Mary, however. Yes, I’ll see if I can find my two favourite gentlemen and bring some joy to another of my daughters.”

When he was gone Elizabeth sought out Charlotte Lucas. Conversation with her friend was just what she needed to keep her mind from wandering in inappropriate directions. It would not do to be caught daydreaming again!

With her friend she fell into an easy exchange regarding the merits of fancy dress balls versus country assemblies as they observed the dancing before them.

“I prefer the formal manners of a ball,” stated Charlotte. “Gentlemen are much better behaved, less likely to take liberties with a lady. There is altogether too much wine and spirits flowing at the assemblies.”

Elizabeth wondered if that was the cause of Mr. Darcy’s more easy manners and familiarity with her. “It is all merely an act, whichever venue, Charlotte, but real affection is more obvious. Just look at Jane and Mr. Bingley over there. Is it not plain to see how happy they are with one another?”

“It is but I fail to understand what that has to do with the subject.”

“It serves to illustrate that whether at a public ball or a private one, there is no disguising real affection. Jane and Mr. Bingley appear the same wherever they meet.” Elizabeth was proud of her argument.

“Interesting,” conceded her friend, “but applying the same logic, what does this tell us about you and Mr. Darcy?”

“Mr. Darcy?” Her heart suddenly racing, Elizabeth attempted to sound unaffected. “What do you mean?”

“Your feelings we need not examine for you have voiced them often enough,” Charlotte explained. “We have not the privilege of knowing Mr. Darcy’s mind, however.”

“I’d not consider that a privilege!” Thoughts of what had transpired in the library flew through Elizabeth’s mind and she blushed to imagine what the gentleman had been thinking.

“My point is that, strictly from what we may observe, Mr. Darcy looks at you often, and for extended periods. He listens to your conversations without participating.”

“We may conclude that he is rude,” Elizabeth quickly interjected before she felt compelled to blurt out that he had also kissed her without warning.

“He rarely dances yet he singled you out here this evening, and if I’m not mistaken he may do so again.” She inclined her head and Elizabeth followed her gaze to behold Mr. Darcy bearing down on them. There was purpose in his stride, urging her to flee. Before she could no more than form the thought, he was before them, bowing low and preparing to speak.

“May I have the honour of the next dance,” he said, “Miss Lucas?”

Charlotte hid her surprise, accepting gracefully and when the two ladies were left to themselves once more she turned to Elizabeth with astonishment. “I can no longer trust my own judgement. Mr. Darcy asked me! Oh, Lizzy, how do I look? Is my hair tidy? Thank goodness I didn’t spill anything on my gown at dinner.”

Elizabeth could only stare, dumbfounded by the change in her friend’s behaviour. When the gentleman returned to claim his partner she could not resist sending a wounded look his way and felt some small measure of satisfaction in his response. He seemed truly disconcerted.

Once the dance was underway, Charlotte seized her chance to monopolise Mr. Darcy’s attention. While she had never imagined herself likely to become the object of any superior gentleman’s interest, it had not prevented her from imagining how to take advantage should such an opportunity ever present itself.

“Mr. Bingley has succeeded in pleasing many people this evening. His generosity is very much appreciated.”

For a moment Darcy appeared perplexed, as if he’d not considered the Meryton inhabitants capable of such an outlook, but then his eyes focussed on a point behind Charlotte and he smiled as he replied, “I, too, have learned to be thankful for my friend’s natural aptitude for pleasing others.”

Charlotte laughed, thinking he had made some kind of jest. “It is a pity we cannot all be so easily popular but I suppose some of us must be serious to make up the difference.”

Somewhat confused, Darcy considered her words. “You do not mean yourself, surely? I have frequently observed you laughing with your friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You cannot claim to have such a serious disposition.”

“Unlike yourself, sir?” Despite her smile Charlotte was a little put out by his mention of Elizabeth. “But I must admit to being a very serious subject, Mr. Darcy, even though I do occasionally laugh.”

His smile returned. “Miss Lucas, I assure you that I am not so severe as some may suggest. There are many subjects which arouse my amusement.”

“Pray tell, what might those be? I am frequently inundated with my friend’s views and sense of humour. No doubt yours is as subtle and quite as witty.” Charlotte immediately reprimanded herself for once more bringing Elizabeth into the conversation.

“Miss Bennet? I cannot claim as fresh a wit as that lady, unfortunately. I must rely upon my cool manner and frigid gaze to keep others at bay.” The smile he wore removed any hint of offense in his words. Darcy also appeared to be fixated on a point beyond Charlotte’s left shoulder. The lady attempted to turn her head, to see what held his attention, but at her first move his gaze returned to his partner. “You see how my natural talent for alienating people can amuse, can you not?”

Charlotte shook her head rapidly, completely confused.

He heaved a melodramatic sigh. “I have not the talent to properly –.”

She was left wondering what he was going to reveal when they were interrupted by her father.

“Such a delightful evening it has been, don’t you agree Mr. Darcy? I must say it is quite the compliment to see you dancing with my daughter. Charlotte, you look lovely, isn’t that so?” Sir William beamed at the younger gentleman.

His daughter disguised her cringe of horror with a ladylike wave of her hand in front of her face.

Darcy quickly enquired as to her health. “Are you well, Miss Lucas? Perhaps it is a trifle too warm in here.” He began to lead her from the other dancers. Charlotte hoped for a suggestion to step outside; oh, how wonderful it might be for such an opportunity! She was heavily disappointed when Darcy stationed her in a nearby chair and said, “Let me bring you a glass of something cool, Miss Lucas.” Then he was gone just as quickly.

Charlotte huffed and her eyes scanned the room in search of her father’s figure, wondering if she had enough needles left to stick in the doll she had fashioned in his likeness.

Chapter Three

Posted on Sunday, 12 November 2006

Bingley was surprised to see his friend in the breakfast room the next morning. He had not expected company as the ball had lasted into the early morning hours. “What are you doing up so early, Darcy? You didn’t have to see me off.”

“If you insist on leaving at this hour even after spending half the night dancing,” replied his friend with good humour, “how could I do any less than to bid you a safe trip? I do hope you are taking a carriage and not thinking of riding.”

“Well, no. I had actually planned to ride so that I may travel more quickly.” Bingley looked a bit puzzled. “Why do you object?”

“Surely you did not get enough rest to attempt such a journey,” explained Darcy. “Not even I would be so... rash.”

“You, rash?” Bingley laughed. “Now you are jesting!”

“I am not a stranger to impulsive behaviour, believe it or not.” Darcy appeared a bit regretful.

“Hmm.. Well, yes, perhaps I wasn’t entirely fair.” He seemed to contemplate something for a moment. “You’ll be staying on for a while, won’t you? I hope to return tomorrow, or the day after at the latest.”

“Your business can be concluded in such a short time?”

A satisfied grin spread across the younger man’s face. “I have more pressing business awaiting me here.”

“Oh, I see. Miss Bennet.” Darcy tried not to let his concern show.

“Yes,” sighed Bingley. “Miss Bennet.”

“Bingley,” began Darcy, “are you sure about this young woman?”

“What do you mean?”

“Her family is not of a standing that would help to improve your own. Considering the behaviour of some, there is little reason to suppose even –.”

Bingley interrupted, irritated. “Here, here! Is it really necessary to criticise like that? I’m in love with Jane, not .....”

“Ahhh,” nodded his friend. “How many times have I heard that? You are in love.”

“Well, I am.” Bingley’s expression was very nearly a pout. “This time is different.”

“I’ve heard that before, too. The last three, I believe. Was it Miss Simpson? Then Miss Anderson and lastly, Miss ...”

“Thompson,” finished Bingley with a flush in his cheeks. “But I really mean it this time!”

“Really.” Darcy narrowed his gaze and raised one eyebrow, an expression that generally managed to intimidate lesser beings. “And what of Miss Bennet? Have you given any thought to what she is thinking?”

“Is that necessary? I mean... I’m sure she feels the same about me as I do about her.”

“Excellent! You may both fall madly in love for a brief time, enjoy it and then move on to other interests when you become bored.” Darcy waved one hand dismissively. “You really must stop this sort of thing, Bingley. It’s becoming quite tedious.”

Bingley puffed out his chest, prepared to argue. Then he seemed to deflate. “This time I won’t move on,” he said, quietly.

Darcy blinked. Twice. “This is unprecedented. You do realise that talk has already begun about you marrying Miss Bennet.”

“Has it?” cried Bingley, excited by the idea of being an object of such speculation.

“Bingley, do pay attention! You have created the impression that you are interested in marrying this young woman. Her family, friends and neighbours anticipate it. You must set the record straight one way or another.”

“Should I do so immediately?” He hesitated, unclear of precisely what Darcy expected of him.

Horrified, Darcy quickly refuted that plan and firmly said, “I think you should stay a while in town. Just long enough to see if this love of yours dwindles,” he added when Bingley began to object. ‘You have nothing to lose. If your feelings are true then you may return and resume your attentions to Miss Bennet.”

“But what if some other suitor attaches himself to her in my absence!” cried his friend.

“Come now, Bingley! If your opinion of the lady’s feelings is so poor then you had best discard any notions of matrimony!”

Properly chastised, Bingley fell silent, contemplating his plate and pushing the eggs about with his fork. Darcy watched him, his own thoughts soon wandering with a curiosity regarding another young lady’s activities at that moment. She was likely still abed, he concluded with a shiver of excitement, then promptly reprimanded himself for the thought. Stealing a glance at Bingley, still morosely picking at his food, Darcy was relieved to have escaped notice. Seeing his friend’s less than cheerful countenance, however, he exerted himself to speak. “Do not distress yourself. Take your time and think about what I said. Decisions such as this are not to be rushed.”

“Thank you. I shall consider your advice.” Pushing his plate away, Bingley brought his coffee to his mouth, muttering over the rim before taking a sip. “But God help me if I’m still single when I’m your age.”

Miss Bingley found Mr. Darcy, after an extensive search, enjoying a book in the quiet solitude of the library. Her entrance was calculated to draw attention, although it was not the kind she sought. Throwing herself into the chair closest to the room’s only other occupant, she heaved a weary sigh and said, “So Charles left as he had planned.”

“Yes,” replied Darcy without looking up from the page.

“I have been thinking,” she said, giving her listener time to pause in his pursuit and attend her. “I have had quite enough of the country and I suspect that you have as well. If we follow Charles to town, close up the house, it would not be so very difficult to persuade him to stay there.” Miss Bingley’s expression became shrewd. “This little diversion with Jane Bennet could have a lasting effect if it’s not curtailed. I believe you know what I mean.”

Darcy had listened patiently but now drew a breath to reply. “You are mistaken, Miss Bingley. I have no immediate desire to leave Netherfield. As for the other matter to which you allude, your brother is aware of my opinions. I have offered my advice. He may choose his own direction.”

The lady was horrified. “Oh, surely you don’t mean that! Charles will ruin us all if he marries that girl!”

“I do believe you overestimate the value of your family’s status. It will be neither reduced nor improved by an alliance with the Bennets of Hertfordshire. However, I must point out that your brother’s primary concern is likely to be his own wishes. Should Bingley marry Miss Bennet it would not damage you or your sister in any way.”

This little speech was hardly soothing to the ruffled feathers of Miss Bingley but now she recalled Darcy’s earlier words about not wishing to leave Netherfield and her alarm was further ignited. “I begin to fear for you now, Mr. Darcy, that your view is perhaps obscured by admiration for a certain pair of fine eyes.”

Darcy raised an icy gaze to quell her flaming temper. “I understand your overtures of sisterly concern,” he said with distinct purpose, “but assure you that it is not necessary. I am perfectly capable of determining what presents a danger to myself.”

The lady’s enthusiasm was deflated. She was certain of her suspicions; it was dangerous to allow Darcy to stay any longer in Hertfordshire, near the presence of that country slip of a girl, Eliza Bennet! What could be done about it, though? She was left to plot in silence as Darcy returned his attention to his book.

Speaking of Elizabeth Bennet..... that young lady was having difficulty shaking a persistent feeling that unpleasantness was about to occur. That unpleasantness soon made itself known in the person of her cousin, the Reverend Mr. Collins, as he came slinking into the dining parlour when everyone else was just preparing to leave the room. Elizabeth hurriedly rose from her chair, grabbing hold of Jane’s elbow in a plea for assistance, but Mrs. Bennet was even quicker to grasp Elizabeth’s other arm, pulling her back down into her seat.

“Sit down, Lizzy,” she said between tightly clenched teeth. “You just listen to what Mr. Collins has to say while I see to... to... a pressing matter with Hill.” She gave Elizabeth a stern glance before closing the door firmly behind her.

Left alone in the room with her cousin, Elizabeth tried to think of something to say that would steer their conversation away from any direction that led to matrimony.

“Did... did you enjoy the ball?” she managed to ask.

“Oh, yes,” was his breathless reply. “It was most enjoyable and, I might add, the highlight of my evening was the great honour and pleasure which was mine in dancing with you.”

“There were certainly some lively numbers,” she hurriedly said, attempting a distraction.

“Yes!” Collins enthused. “As little as I am in the habit of practising the art, I did not fail to notice how light you are on your feet, Miss Elizabeth.”

“The neighbourhood does enjoy the more fast paced dances. You will find that every young lady in and around Meryton is an adept.”

“Ah, you do outshine them all, though,” he persisted.

Elizabeth would soon become desperate with Mr. Collins’ frustrating manner of turning her every comment back into a compliment to herself. “Did you have an opportunity to dance with Miss Bingley?”

The question surprised him enough that he had to think before replying. “I must confess I did not. After having danced with all my fair cousins I was quite in need of a rest. Then we sat down to dine and when the dancing recommenced I was honoured with fulfilling Mr. Darcy’s instructions for most of the remaining time.”

“Mr. Darcy’s instructions?” The mere mention of the man’s name caused a fluttering inside her.

Mr. Collins proudly expounded on his assignment. “There were a number of ladies wishing to dance but many of the gentlemen had lingered in the other rooms. Mr. Darcy, in the same benevolent and compassionate fashion as his aunt, the most gracious and noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh, took it upon himself to see to their needs. He sought me out and directed that I acquire a respectable and trustworthy partner for each of these ladies. It was a task I could not refuse, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed Elizabeth, wondering how much truth there was in his tale. Still, it could keep him away from the prospect of proposing and she was disposed to continue the subject. “Mr. Darcy is very much like his aunt, then?” Does she go around kissing people without warning?

“Very much so. He is her equal in grace and humility and, from what I observed last night, takes the greatest interest in the welfare of those less fortunate than himself.”

Elizabeth attempted to equate this description with the man she knew as Mr. Darcy. It was proving less difficult than she had first thought, as her mind kept lingering on the memory of his warm lips pressed against her own, and the security of being in his arms when her knees buckled. In fact, her knees felt a bit wobbly at that moment and Elizabeth was tempted to close her eyes in order to more fully appreciate her recollections.

“Which brings me to my point,” Mr. Collins was saying when Elizabeth was once again aware of her surroundings. She listened in horror to her cousin’s embarrassing monologue. That he considered himself encouraged was ridiculous enough, but he also believed in his desirability not only as a husband but as a man! Elizabeth could not help drawing a comparison in her own mind; to be kissed by Mr. Darcy or to be kissed by Mr. Collins. What would any sane woman choose?

He was nearing the end of his speech. Elizabeth grew anxious and in a voice shrill enough to rival her mother’s, cried out, “What was that?”

Mr. Collins immediately stopped speaking, cocking his head on one side and watching her curiously.

“Did you hear it?” she persisted now that the ruse was begun. “I think it is outside.

“What is outside?” the poor man helplessly asked as Elizabeth left her seat and was about to leave the room. “What did you hear?”

Escape was within reach, her hand on the door’s knob, and Elizabeth said, “Do not trouble yourself, sir. I am sure it is a trifling matter that I may quickly resolve. Please remain here. I shall not be long.” Before Mr. Collins could form a reply she was gone.

Elizabeth sought the nearest path that would take her the farthest from the house. Her stride was long and quick, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Mr. Collins before the gentleman, or her mother, could realise her intent.

The exercise allowed her plenty of time to think on all that had occurred since she had awakened the previous morning. She had been extremely fortunate to have avoided her cousin’s declarations until this point, and was sadly aware of just how narrowly she had escaped him before his latest attempt. How ironic that thoughts of Mr. Darcy had nearly permitted another man to propose to her!

Stop thinking about him! Elizabeth scolded. Just because he kissed you does not mean that anything has changed. He is still the same man he was before the Ball. She forced herself to think again on Mr. Wickham’s claims of ill treatment at the hands of his old friend. Did a mere kiss change anything? It was not just any kiss! There was something fiery in his eyes, something more than that spark of anger I have occasionally seen when we have argued. Again she had to remind herself that it was a fruitless ambition. No, nothing is to be gained by it. A kiss does not mean marriage. Would I even want to marry him? One does not marry because a kiss has been shared, no matter how it makes one’s insides tingle. Besides, it was only a kiss, not a proposal. How ridiculous these thoughts are! Mr. Darcy would no more want to marry me than I want to marry him!

She continued on her way, determinedly reminding herself of the gentleman’s worst traits to keep from reliving the warm feelings his kiss had engendered.

Darcy quit the house as soon as he could pry himself from Miss Bingley’s grip. He considered a walk about the grounds, not certain that he was quite up to the challenge of an encounter with any locals should he choose to take a ride further afield. A moment later his decision was reversed when he heard Miss Bingley’s voice beyond an open window.

“Louisa, I expect your assistance in this. We must convince Darcy to join Charles in London as soon as possible. Once there, I’m sure we could easily manage to convince Charles to stay. That will prevent any unfortunate incident like an engagement to Jane Bennet and Darcy will be safe from that scheming Eliza.”

“But if you could not persuade him,” replied her sister, “what makes you think I could do better?”

“Were you not listening? I want you to help me. I have a plan.”

Darcy heard no more as he was halfway to the stables to get his horse. While waiting for the groom to finish his job, Darcy anxiously watched the path that led from the house, expecting Miss Bingley to appear at any moment. No sooner was the last buckle fastened and the stirrups in place than Darcy was in the saddle, steering his horse in a direction away from any route which might be taken from the house.

At the first opportunity he slipped into the woods on a well used trail that climbed steadily as it gently wound through the trees. When enough distance had been covered that he was assured of not being heard, Darcy urged his horse to a faster pace, keeping an eye out for an exit to more open ground. He was rewarded in due time, finding himself emerging into a large field of clover and wildflowers. He slowed the horse to a walk, gazing around to get his bearings. The area was unfamiliar but the terrain relatively flat, inviting of a leisurely canter.

The smooth motion of his horse, typical of the animals in his stable, was enough to lull Darcy into a pleasant reflection of the prior evening’s encounter with Miss Bennet in Netherfield’s library. So caught up in this reverie was he that he failed to notice the direction his path lay and when he suddenly felt his horse rise beneath him, his seat leave the saddle and nothing but air was between himself and the ground, he was astonished until his backside met the earth with a resounding thud.

Chapter Four

Posted on Sunday, 19 November 2006

“Mr. Darcy?”

“Mmm....?” Her voice was melodic, just what he needed to hear to counteract the spinning sensation in his head.

“Mr. Darcy, are you alright?”

He opened his eyes and was delighted to see Miss Bennet’s lovely face peering down at him. “With such beauty to greet me? I should say I am quite well, Elizabeth.”

She reached out a hand to touch his forehead, an opportunity he could not forsake, bringing his own hands up to take hold of hers and draw her closer. He watched in fascination as her lips parted in surprise mere seconds before he placed his own upon them.

The warmth lingered after the kiss, Darcy’s eyes closing as he rested his head against the grass once more.

“I should slap you for that,” Miss Bennet remarked in a tone far from reproving.

“Yes, you should. Why did you not?”

“You have not released your hold on my hands,” she reminded him.

“I beg your pardon?” Darcy’s head came up and his eyes opened with a start. Elizabeth Bennet was on her knees in the grass beside him, in all her glorious beauty, tousled hair and pouting lips.

“You are holding my hands captive, sir.” She spoke with no hint of disapproval but for the faint downturn at the corners of her mouth, something which the gentleman found more inviting than discouraging. “Are you sure you are not hurt?”

“Hurt...” His mind was racing. Which was dream and which was reality? Did I just kiss her or not? “I fell...”

Miss Bennet bit her lower lip in a gentle attempt to withhold laughter. “You did. I saw it.”

“How?” His brow creased as he struggled to remember what had transpired. “The last I recall, I was riding along in an easy canter, thinking about.....” Oh, no... I cannot tell her what I was thinking! Images assaulted his senses; the same images that had apparently caused his inattention in the first place.

“Whatever you were thinking,” said Miss Bennet, a definite smirk forming on her face, “it was not about the hedgerow you were approaching. Your horse sailed over it very nicely and you sailed off in the opposite direction.”

Darcy’s face was deeply suffused in a flush of colour. “Did I....?” He cleared his throat, letting go of her hands, finally, and sitting up. How on earth was he to ask if he had just committed the grossest of improprieties, had just kissed her without so much as a by your leave? Was it not bad enough to have done it once already, but twice! Evidently, she was waiting for him to finish posing his question, eyebrows rising very slowly up the delicate incline of her forehead. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you again last evening,” he heard himself say, lamenting the pathetic attempt at an explanation. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

Miss Bennet looked at him in some confusion. “You did apologise. I think. Yes, you did.”

Was it his imagination or did her expressive eyes now have a touch of sorrow in them? “I must have hit my head. I cannot remember.”

“What don’t you remember?” Her voice held a note of distress.

“Oh,” Darcy quickly assured her, “I have not forgotten that I kissed you.” His eyes closed, willing his tongue to stop betraying him. “I mean, I cannot forget that. I do not wish to forget that but I should.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were downcast. “I perfectly comprehend your meaning, Mr. Darcy. It does no good to dwell on wishes that cannot be fulfilled. You have your name and your family to consider. Do not be alarmed, however. I am not one to make demands upon a man for an impulsive act that caused no real harm.”

He was not so sure of the lack of harm, judging by her expression. Darcy lifted her chin so that their gazes met. “I would not see you harmed in any way, Miss Bennet. All you need do is speak. Your wish is my command.” My tongue betrays me again! “What can I do to ease your mind?”

“Ease my mind! I thought we were discussing yours, sir.”

He was unable to follow the logic in that connection. “I assure you there is no need to be concerned about my mind, Miss Bennet. I am, however, disturbed by how my actions may cause you some uneasiness.” Darcy sensed a sudden distancing in her manner when she abruptly rose and swept the grass from her skirts. “I have offended you.”

Elizabeth looked directly at him. “Not this time, Mr. Darcy.”

This time? He drew his brows together slightly.

“Surely a man of your superior understanding will appreciate the avenue of escape that I am offering.” Though her eyelids fluttered only briefly, the significance was not lost on him.

“By this you must presume I wish to escape!” he cried before he could stop himself. “Miss Bennet, there can be no question of what you are owed. I am –.”

“No, Mr. Darcy. That would not be acceptable. There were no witnesses to either incident and I am equally to blame for not stopping you. You are under no obligation, in my opinion.”

“But Miss Bennet,” he began, then lapsed into silence. It was true that his actions required atonement. Marriage was the accepted result for the offense he had committed. Twice! Marriage to Elizabeth Bennet was very appealing, yet Darcy was equally aware of the many issues that would normally prevent his alliance with one such as herself, not the least of which was his aunt’s assumption that he was engaged to her daughter. This particular rumour had been useful more often than not but at the moment Darcy found himself thinking it just might be the cause of Miss Bennet’s polite withdrawal. “I fear you may have heard something that places my actions in a questionable light. I assure you that, although some may view the matter as a legally binding agreement, it is in reality far from the truth and I am free to do as I choose.”

“Oh, it must be a source of great pleasure to be able to do as one chooses!” announced she with an annoyed swirl of her skirts.

Darcy’s eyes widened with astonishment at her tone and the flush of anticipation when he caught a glimpse of her delicate ankles under the swishing fabric. He was instantly reminded of what was hidden behind the folds of material, how he had seen her fingers play along the surface of her smooth skin as the firelight had danced along the curves of her calf.....

“In my limited experience,” Elizabeth continued on, completely unaware of the gentleman’s distraction, “I have found it prudent to consider the feelings of the other people affected by my actions.”

“Very wise,” he agreed, eyes still captivated by the teasing view offered by the slightly raised hem gliding over the smooth leather of Elizabeth’s shoes.

“After all, any number of unexpected ill effects may occur. I would not be able to live with myself knowing I had caused the disappointment, perhaps forever, of another person.” Placing her hands on her hips, Elizabeth stared down at Darcy, wondering if her words were sinking in at all. How much more obvious must she be? “Are you able to stand?”

His head rose with that, his gaze at last taking in her expression of impatience. With some discomfort, Darcy got to his feet, mindful of the area of impact that would no doubt need attention when he returned to Netherfield. “I fear it is my pride that has taken the most damage, Miss Bennet.”

Well, you have plenty of that to spare! she thought, most uncharitably. “And you do so dislike being the subject of amusement, I believe I recall from one of our discussions during my sister’s illness.”

“The butt of a joke?” His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Sometimes it simply cannot be avoided. If I allow myself to be so distracted that my riding ability is impaired, providing entertainment for passing young ladies, then I must learn to accept it, I suppose.” He suddenly leaned toward her, adding in a near whisper, “You will not repeat the event, will you?”

“Mr. Darcy!” cried Elizabeth, a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks. “That would necessitate repeating everything that occurred! We both know what would be the result of that!” I would be made to marry a most handsome gentleman of wealth whose kisses reduce me to a complete idiot but whom I cannot respect for his lack of consideration for what is rightly owed others. Oh, no... a course of action that must be avoided at all costs.

I would be required to marry the loveliest, liveliest woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet; who has the greatest misfortune of coming from a family of no repute, less fortune and with a collection of relations that could rival the inhabitants of Bedlam on a good day. Oh, no... a course of action that must be avoided at all costs. Darcy carefully brushed the stray grass and leaves from his breeches. “I thank you for your attention, nevertheless, and am very sorry to have caused you distress in any way. There is one more favour I must ask of you, however.”

“What is that, sir?” Elizabeth felt her insides flutter with the notion that a parting kiss might in the offing.

“Could you please direct me back to Netherfield?”

The road had not been far from where Darcy had fallen. Just on the other side of the hedgerow, as a matter of fact. Elizabeth politely pointed it out, carefully masking the occasional smile as he gingerly made his way through the shrubbery and into the open roadway. There they parted, the lady for her home while the gentleman lingered a while, watching her until she disappeared from view.

His thoughts were not idle once he began walking. It was likely that his horse was already back in the stable and more likely that Miss Bingley had raised the alarm when the animal returned without him. How long it would be before he encountered a search party was not on his mind, however, for there were too many important matters to consider.

What was he to do about Elizabeth Bennet?

The lady invaded his every waking moment and the less said about what happened while he was asleep, the better! Darcy was in dire need of a confidante. Bingley had never filled that role and neither would he be a good choice at this time, even if he had been at hand. No, Darcy knew who he could count on to help him see his way out of whatever mess this situation with Miss Bennet had become.

Upon entering the front door at Netherfield, the house at last coming into view just as his tolerance for the ache in his gluteous was reaching a nexus, Darcy threw a quick greeting in Miss Bingley’s astonished direction and headed upstairs for his room, citing a pressing matter of business about which he’d neglected to inform his steward. The lady simply stood in place, following with her eyes his progress up the staircase, just a little confused about his manner of walking.

Darcy’s chamber door was quickly secured, his man called and a hot bath ordered with no explanation other than a need for some solitude. Then he sat down at the writing table, drew paper and a pen toward him and began to write.

Fitzwilliam,

Forgive the hastiness of my letter and any interruption it may cause in your activities but I am in need of your counsel and request that you advise me as soon as possible.

Firstly, rest assured it has nothing to do with Georgiana and our responsibilities there.

However, the matter does involve a young lady and you know how ill-equipped I am in that arena. Remind me of my obligations to the family name and history for I am quickly losing all sight of everything I have been taught; she has so bewitched me, cousin! I know not which direction I am headed. Do I toss aside all the expectations of a match that will be approved by society and our relations, or should I abandon what my heart is telling me?

I await your reply.

Your confused cousin,

Darcy

He finished with a flourish, writing the direction, folding the missive and sealing it. His man had since returned to announce the bath was readied. Darcy instructed him to see that the letter was sent with the morning’s post.

As he sank into the water, Darcy’s wandering thoughts were more heated than his bath.

Chapter Five

Posted on Sunday, 26 November 2006

Georgiana Darcy was sipping her tea, the temperature being a trifle too hot for her taste, when her cousin burst into the room.

“Georgie, where is this place your brother is staying? Do you know?”

She choked on the tea. “Hert... Hert...” She coughed.

“So you know, too! His heart, indeed! I’ll cuff him and knock sense into that head when I get there. Where is the house?” Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned fiercely, his eyes darting about the room as if seeking a weapon. “Now, don’t feel sorry for him. I know how you ladies fall for all that romantic nonsense but trust me on this one, Darcy is out of his depth. He’s never fallen hard for any woman before and he won’t get trapped by this one if I can help it!”

Georgiana had regained control of her voice. “He’s in Hertfordshire. I will get you the address but what do you mean about him being trapped? Is he in trouble? How do you know?”

“I received this letter from him less than an hour ago.” He withdrew the item from a pocket and handed it to his cousin.

Scanning the brief missive, her eyes alternately widened and narrowed, her mouth forming a round O as the information became clear. “It is as I suspected,” she said in a quiet voice.

“What was that?” Fitzwilliam asked, turning to face her. “What did you suspect?”

“He’s fallen in love!” she squealed in delight. “Oh, and I know her name.” Scrambling from her seat, Georgiana went to the small desk which stood against the wall and pulled open a drawer from which she removed a small packet of letters. “I keep all of the letters he writes me when he goes away.” She leafed through the stack as she returned to the chair. “Ah, here it is. This letter he sent two weeks ago, while two of the local ladies were staying at Mr. Bingley’s house for a few days.”

“Staying at the house! It is worse than I feared,” groaned her cousin.

“No, no. One of the ladies was ill and her sister stayed to tend her. Fitzwilliam wrote that she, the one that was not ill, was the only member of the house with whom one could carry on an intelligent conversation! That she was... oh, here,” she said, thrusting the letter into his hand. “Read it for yourself. She sounds delightful!”

My dearest Georgiana,

I hope and trust that you are well. Your delightful company is sorely missed by your brother, I hope you know.

Since receiving your last letter we have been honoured with the presence of two new guests at Netherfield. Unfortunately for one young lady, she fell ill after spending a prolonged time outdoors in a recent rainstorm and has been staying here. Miss Bennet’s sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, has stayed to tend to her needs. I must commend her for such compassion and dedication. It is something rarely seen in our circle. Forgive my next comment, my dear Georgiana, for it is not in the kindest spirit but could you imagine Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst showing such concern for one other?

At this point I have been obliged to convey Miss Bingley’s regards to you and her wish for your health and happiness. As you can imagine, she has been observing my progress with this letter since I began and I am pleased to know that she is unable to read my words due to the fine script of my hand. Have I impressed upon you how important it is to practice your penmanship? There are few accomplishments that will stand you in good stead than the ability to communicate clearly and effectively, not to mention discreetly.

Miss Bennet has improved enough that Miss Elizabeth has joined us this evening rather than spend it upstairs sitting with her sister. It is but a brief respite, she has warned. You would be surprised to know that the young lady is not a particular favourite of her hostess. Or perhaps you would not be surprised. Miss Elizabeth’s sharp wit and lively sense of humour has our Miss Bingley at a distinct disadvantage. At this very moment, were I to keep a tally of the remarks that Miss B has been unable to deflect, betting would be on Miss E.

Oh, I should not be speaking to you of gambling and rest assured that my inclinations do not run in that direction, my dear.

Forgive me, Georgiana. My attention was called away from my letter for a short time as we engaged in some delightful debate regarding the value of what many consider to be accomplishments of young ladies. As usual, it was Bingley who introduced the topic and Miss B soon thereafter joined in. I felt compelled to correct their misapprehensions. As you know, I am a firm believer in improving one’s mind through reading. As an aside to that, Georgiana, have you been keeping up with yours? I left you with several volumes to study in my absence. In your next letter, please tell me which titles you have finished and I shall quiz you on the contents.

Please do not think ill of me for the next part I relate. I could not resist the temptation to make my point about extensive reading while simultaneously reprimanding Miss B for her unladylike behaviour toward her guest. After a particularly scathing criticism of Miss E, entirely undeserved I will add, an opportunity arose for me to voice my approval for her choice of activity for the evening. Yes, my dear sister, Miss Elizabeth was reading while the others were playing cards! It was no thin novel of questionable repute, either, although selection is very limited in Netherfield’s library. If she did not bring it from home then Miss E must have spent some time searching it out here. I confess to having browsed the titles at Bingley’s disposal and am thankful for your foresight in reminding me to bring my own favoured books.

I may soon return to town in order to collect some more books. Will you be happy to see me? Be prepared for a request to play for me. There has been little in the way of musical entertainment here, although Miss E has some natural talent and her playing is pleasing enough. If she had the advantage of a superior instrument and your music master she could rival some of the best concert performers.

I find I must close now, dear sister. I have spent the better part of the evening in writing you and the party is now breaking up. Miss Bingley entreats me once more to send her regards, with the usual array of compliments that I know you have heard countless times before. Bingley also sends his wishes for your good health. Miss Elizabeth has gone to check on her sister.

I shall have this posted first thing in the morning so that you should receive it before the next day has passed. I shall eagerly await your reply.

Your loving brother,

Fw.

“Heaven help him!” Colonel Fitzwilliam sank into his chair. “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Georgiana was puzzled. “Lord and Lady Matlock have been urging him for years to find a wife. I know that Fitzwilliam has resisted the pressure but is this not a good thing, then? He has found one on his own!”

Her cousin shook his head forlornly. “Yes, but what a woman! Georgiana, his letter to me says it all. He is in quite a state, knowing this woman is not acceptable, yet might be powerless to prevent being ensnared! I must go to him at once. Bring him home if necessary! Anything to scuttle the disaster that is sure to unfold if left to his own devices in the wilds of the countryside!” He turned the paper over and took note of the direction from whence it came. “I shall leave immediately. Is there anything you wish me to tell him?”

There was but she was certain he would not repeat it to her brother. “I shall write a short note for him if you can wait a few minutes.”

Fitzwilliam agreed but his pacing annoyed Georgiana as she attempted to put into words exactly what she wanted to say. A few lines was sufficient and she quickly sealed it, handing the paper to her cousin and smiling bravely.

“Don’t hurt him,” she warned. “I won’t forgive you if you hurt him.”

He smiled reassuringly. “He has nothing to fear from me.”

“I mean it,” she continued in a stern voice. “If he gets hurt and you have been involved in any way, I’ll... I’ll... I’ll make sure every man in your regiment knows that pet name your mother calls you.”

Horror replaced the smug expression on the Colonel’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

Georgiana Darcy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him that look.

“You would.”

“Jane! Jane! Whatever does it mean?” lamented her mother. “Hill has just informed me that the butcher, who heard it from the cook, who was told by Netherfield’s housekeeper that Mr. Bingley has gone! Just this morning, the day after the ball. What can have happened?”

Elizabeth looked up, startled by this piece of news. Had she not just seen Mr. Darcy little more than a few hours since? He had given no indication that he intended to depart. I have driven him away!

Kitty spoke up, sparing Elizabeth the mortification of asking, “Has Mr. Darcy gone, too?”

“Heavens! Why should we care about him?” scoffed Mrs. Bennet.

“I believe Mr. Bingley went alone.” The quiet voice belonged to Jane. Her cheeks were slowly turning pink. “He said he will be but a few days at most.”

“What a sly girl you are, Jane!” her mother purred.

“Oh, Mama,” her embarrassed daughter protested. “There is nothing sly in it at all. Last night Mr. Bingley merely mentioned in passing that he had some business in London that would take him away for a day or two and that the rest of his party would remain at Netherfield.”

“Mentioned in passing, did he? Yes, yes. That would not have been when you were absent from the ballroom and Mr. Bingley coincidentally was nowhere to be found, as well?”

Kitty and Lydia squealed. “Ooh, Jane!” the youngest girl shouted in her usual manner. “What would Papa say if he knew!”

Jane’s cheeks were red, but it was the red of anger, Elizabeth noted. She spoke before Jane could betray herself with a retort. “And a coincidence it was. I saw Mr. Bingley speaking with his friend while Jane was not present. So there you have it. Do not spread such false information about, Lydia.”

“Me!” cried the accused. “It was Mama who suggested it!”

“I am heartily disappointed that you did not take advantage of the opportunity, Jane.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed disdainfully. “Tell us, then, how Mr. Bingley came to inform you of his plans.”

“It was during dinner,” confessed Jane. “In speaking of the ball I mentioned that people would spend the following few days quietly, most likely at home, not travelling about nor entertaining others. It would be a time to catch our breaths after all the excitement. Mr. Bingley then said it would be an ideal time for him to take care of some neglected business matters if little else would be happening.”

“The same may apply to Mr. Darcy, then. He may very well have gone with his friend,” concluded Kitty.

Elizabeth’s suspicions were aroused. “Why are you so interested in Mr. Darcy’s activities?”

“Kitty, my dear girl!” cried their mother, alerted to a possibility. “Have you managed to attract his interest? I never would have approved him after slighting Lizzy like he did but his dancing with her last night indicates his willingness to make amends, I think. Oh, Kitty! Just think of the trinkets you would have in marrying such a man!”

“Me marry Mr. Darcy! Goodness, no! It is Charlotte Lucas who cherishes that hope, I can tell you. Maria says her sister could not stop talking about the dance she shared with him and that he was ever so talkative with her.” Kitty was consumed by another fit of giggling.

Mrs. Bennet was affronted, however. “What presumption! If Lady Lucas thinks one of her daughters is going to win the biggest prize ever to walk into Meryton then she has not taken into consideration the power of my girls!” She sat up as tall and straight as her matronly figure would allow and took stock of her offspring. “Lydia, you would look so well in the finest gowns Mr. Darcy’s money could buy.”

Her youngest made a face and shook her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t marry him for all the tea in China.”

“Hush! You will do as you are told,” reprimanded Mrs. Bennet, frowning in thought once again. “Kitty, do be serious. Mr. Darcy is not a frivolous man, that we have seen! I believe we shall all take a trip into Meryton for some new fabrics and see what gowns can be fashioned up quickly before the snow flies. There are sure to be two or more dinner parties where you may outdo Charlotte Lucas before the gentleman!”

“Oh, Mama!” Elizabeth was beside herself with mortification. “I will not do any such thing.”

“Who said anything about you, Miss Lizzy? Do not be so selfish. You have Mr. Collins, after all.” Her mother suddenly eyed Mary more closely. “Come to think of it, Mr. Darcy might appreciate a quieter, more subdued wife. He is so quiet himself. Yes, this afternoon we are off to the milliner’s and enough fabric for everyone to have a new gown. I think I’ll have one for myself, too!” She rose to pat Mary’s arm placatingly. “You will do just fine for him, my dear girl. All we need to do is catch his eye and make sure it stays fixed.” She left the room, humming merrily.

“Well, if that doesn’t ruin everything,” pouted Lydia. “I thought it couldn’t get any worse than Mr. Collins fawning all over us. Now we have to dance rings around Mr. Darcy just because Mama is convinced he is interested in Charlotte.”

“At least you and Lizzy don’t have to be subjected to such embarrassment,” Kitty said to Jane.

“No, Lizzy has our cousin, after all,” Lydia snorted.

Elizabeth threw down her needlework, leaving the room and her laughing young sisters.

Chapter Six

Posted on Sunday, 3 December 2006

For the second day in a row Darcy escaped the house, and Miss Bingley, only to find himself in unfamiliar territory. His impetuous behaviour troubled him if this was the result every time he became distracted with thoughts of Miss Bennet. A leisurely ride through the country usually settled his restless spirits but when his horse was left to its own devices because the rider’s mind had wandered, it was time to admit that there was more to his preoccupation than could be so simply counteracted.

He reined in his horse at the top of a rise and looked about him. Nothing seemed familiar and not even a chimney poked above the surrounding trees.

Darcy sighed, considering allowing his horse to choose their way, for surely it would know the way back to the warm stable and source of food. Instead, he dismounted and chose to sit on a nearby stone wall while the animal searched for the last blades of grass on the cold ground.

Why must this be so difficult?

Darcy had long ago come to the conclusion that Elizabeth Bennet was the woman he wanted to marry, to take home to Pemberley as his wife and to be the loving and attentive mother to their lively, impertinent children. If he had nothing else to consider in this world, nothing but his own wishes and happiness, then he would not be sitting on a stone wall, lost in the wilds of Hertfordshire, undecided about his next course of action.

“But I do have much more to consider,” he sulked aloud. “The expectations of my father and mother, who drilled it into me from the day I graduated to long pants that I must choose well, from the elite of society, and not disgrace the family name or fortune by marrying below our class. Then there is Georgiana. I must set a proper example for her.” He fell silent, his horse no longer serving as a mute audience as it moved away to find more grass. Darcy thought long and hard on his dilemma, as if he’d not spent the last weeks in a similar examination. The end result was always the same.

If I cannot marry Elizabeth why would I even marry at all? Every feeling revolts at the thought of taking another woman as my wife. I want no other but her. What has happened to my ordered thoughts and ambitions, to everything I had been groomed for achieving? At home, at school, in every relation’s house I have been told the same thing, time and again; marry well, look above your current station and never below, do not be blinded by young beauties who will entice with myriad physical charms.

“Oh, that is certainly easier said than done!” He launched a rock into the air and watched in satisfaction as it crashed into the brush not far away. That satisfaction was short lived, however, as his horse suddenly leapt aside in fear and began a speedy escape in the opposite direction. “Whoa, boy,” Darcy called in vain. “Easy, whoa!” The horse was too far away for his voice to have any effect and he watched it gallop into the distance, frustrated with his own carelessness.

“Just add that to my growing list of thoughtless actions,” he muttered. “Where is my self control? Thank heaven Elizabeth Bennet is not here this time. I am sure to propose on the spot if she were!” I have kissed her twice already! How can I not do the honourable thing and offer her my hand?

He recalled her words from the previous day, however, and was unconvinced of being accepted. Darcy concluded that she was too good, too honest, to use such means to promote herself. No, if he was to gain a willing partner in Elizabeth Bennet it would be through better efforts than stolen kisses and hidden admiration.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his perch and decided to follow the path his horse had earlier taken, hoping to find some marker along the way that would point him toward Netherfield, Meryton or perhaps even Longbourn, he thought with a smile.

Colonel Fitzwilliam cursed his bad luck. His horse had picked up a stone in one foot but, by the time it became noticeable, the bruise was deep enough that the animal would be lame for some days to come. His hurried ride to Hertfordshire had become a slow walk, leading his injured mount down what he might have considered pleasant country lanes under better circumstances.

The small inn where he had last stopped before the problem with his horse had arisen was only five miles from the town of Meryton, he had been assured. Thence it was but another mile to reach Netherfield. Fitzwilliam was thankful for the lack of snow, even if his toes were feeling the chill despite the exercise. Houses soon became visible as he neared the town, the Colonel stopping to enquire of a boy carrying firewood just how much further before he reached Meryton itself. The answer pleased him for could not be more than another ten minutes’ walk.

As he entered the cluster of buildings which appeared to serve as the local businesses, Fitzwilliam’s eyes were arrested by a flash of red to his right and upon closer observation confirmed it was the colour denoting the coats of officers in His Majesty’s service. His ears were subsequently assaulted by several feminine squeals, and one in particular calling out a name Fitzwilliam wished never to hear again in his lifetime.

Pulling his horse to a halt, the Colonel kept the animal’s body between himself and the group of officers just being greeted by some very young ladies. His gaze narrowed in anger as he recognised one face in the crowd.

“It is ever so nice to see you returned, Mr. Wickham,” gushed one excited girl. “Denny had to make up all of your promised dances at the ball.”

“Thank you, Miss Lydia,” Lieutenant Wickham replied with a charming smile. “I regret disappointing you but am pleased to learn that my friend attended to the unfortunate side effect of my absence.”

“Well, you missed a wonderful evening. Oh, you’ll never guess who danced!” She had no intention of waiting for him to try but continued speaking. “Mr. Darcy! Yes, he danced with Lizzy. Can you believe it?”

Even from his vantage point Fitzwilliam could see the look of interest forming on Wickham’s face.

“I saw him approach her again later in the evening and.....”

Fitzwilliam struggled to hear as an overladen cart lumbered by, clattering loudly enough to drown out every other sound. When it finally passed he was once again able to discern their conversation.

“... and she is convinced she will land him for her husband!”

Wickham laughed, a sound that sent a shiver of revulsion down Fitzwilliam’s spine. “Many a lady has aspired to that role but to no avail. I wish her success. Mr. Darcy is not so easily ensnared.”

The second young woman now joined in. “Oh, Mama is beside herself. We have all come to town to find material for new dresses so that we may all have our chance at catching Mr. Darcy’s eye.” Both ladies giggled in a loud and unrestrained manner that made the Colonel cringe.

He listened for a few more minutes but nothing further was said about Darcy and, not wanting to call attention to himself, felt he had been standing on the road long enough. It was unfortunate that his choice of direction coincided with that of the party he had been observing. Another cacophony of female sound came from his left, where a matron stood outside a shop door.

“Lydia! Kitty! Come here this instant, girls!”

As Fitzwilliam took a step forward his boot collided with that of one of the officers, each man stopping to look at the other.

An expression of panic spread fleetingly over Mr. Wickham’s face, then was gone as quickly. He brought his feet together smartly and bowed. Fitzwilliam’s only acknowledgement was a glare. Wickham smirked, then joined his companions, leaving the Colonel fuming in the middle of the laneway.

“One moment, Lieutenant,” he suddenly called out, the heads of three young men turning to look back at him. Only Mr. Wickham refused to face him. “Yes, Lieutenant Wickham, I was speaking to you.”

His three friends looked at Wickham curiously, the identity of the dust covered man unknown to them but his clothing spoke of wealth.

Fitzwilliam approached the group, smiling in a friendly fashion and seeing that he had the attention of all the ladies, as well. “It has been a while since we last met. I see you have made some new acquaintances!”

Unable to avoid it, Wickham began to make the introductions. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I present Mrs. Bennet, her daughters Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia, my fellow officers Sanderson, Denny and Roberts.”

The three young men snapped to attention upon hearing the rank of the stranger. The reaction of the ladies was surprising, however. Fitzwilliam almost felt as if he was being touched all over as they looked him up and down appraisingly. His memory was sharp, however, and he silently repeated everyone’s names so that he would not forget. The Bennets were of paramount interest even with the absence of the one called Elizabeth. Yes, if she was anything like what he had just witnessed, Fitzwilliam might well fear for his cousin’s sense.

“It’s my great pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies,” he said with a courteous bow. “I have not seen my friend here in several months. I hope you will not mind if I take him away for a few minutes so that we may catch up.”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Bennet assured him, who could then be heard to add as Fitzwilliam drew the younger man to a secluded corner, “A Colonel, girls! Another fine reason to have new dresses. Quickly now, into the shop!”

Once apart from his friends, Wickham’s bravado faded. He had been fortunate enough to avoid encountering this guardian of Georgiana after the disaster of Ramsgate. Darcy was frightening enough when his temper was aroused yet he would never engage in physical retribution. Wickham could not be so complacent about Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Reading his thoughts, Fitzwilliam smiled. “Calm yourself, Wickham. We are in a public place. I’ll not harm a hair on your head unless you give me inarguable cause.”

“What do you want of me, then?”

“As distrustful as ever,” snorted the Colonel with a shake of his head. “It had never occurred to me that I might end up in the same town as you anytime in my life, yet here we are! I hope, for your sake, that I hear nothing ill of you while I’m here.”

Wickham gazed about them, avoiding Fitzwilliam’s eyes. “Darcy told you I was here. Is that why you’ve come?”

“Perhaps.” He would give nothing away, certainly not to such an individual. “How did you come by your commission? You cannot possibly have any money left from your last venture.”

Wickham shrugged. “I won it in a card game. The other fellow had no money and I had no means of getting more.”

“That is not one of the better motives I have heard for joining His Majesty’s forces. “ Colonel Fitzwilliam was dumbfounded by this man’s ease in ingratiating himself with innocent young women. He did not look behind them but was reminded of the extreme youth of the two ladies who seemed to be on very friendly terms with the scoundrel. Deciding that he needed to speak with Darcy about the matter, he was suddenly struck by something else. “I hope you have not been slandering my cousin’s character here, Wickham. You are aware of the consequences for spreading lies of such nature, are you not?”

Mr. Wickham swallowed nervously. He had no idea what consequences might be dealt out by the man before him but could easily believe it to be highly unpleasant and something to avoid. “Darcy had already imprinted himself in the minds of the local population with his typically outgoing and friendly manner. Such a shame the people here have no opportunity to see him at Pemberley, in his element, and at his most charming.”

“Let me make myself perfectly clear,” Fitzwilliam said, his voice low and gaze steady. “If I hear one peep that even remotely resembles the tales you have been spreading all over London, I will abuse every power at my disposal and beyond to see your behind on the front line in France. You might even be privileged to see Napoleon in person.”

It was no idle threat, Wickham knew, no matter how frivolously phrased. As he had informed only a handful of people about his ugly history with Darcy, tidily edited to show himself in the best light of course, he was not too concerned that anything would reach Fitzwilliam’s ears. There was but one person, however, in whose discretion he was less secure. “Is that all you have to say to me?” he asked, his mind working on a plan to intercept Elizabeth Bennet and attempt to counteract his earlier influence.

“Yes.” Colonel Fitzwilliam was smiling that false sort of smile which generally meant he didn’t believe a word and neither should his listener. “I wish you well in your latest career ambitions.” He watched the Lieutenant walk briskly off to join his friends. Fitzwilliam considered his next move. He was not intending to walk his injured horse another three miles and so he called out to the driver of a passing cart, enquiring of the location of the nearest stable so that he may leave his animal and rent another. It was but a short distance from where he stood. The arrangements were quickly made and Fitzwilliam once more on the road to Netherfield.

Were it not for Jane’s presence, Elizabeth would surely have strangled their cousin. In spite of the satisfaction such a resolution might have given, she was grateful that the heinous act was prevented; it would have cast such a pall over the courtship of Jane by Mr. Bingley with a sister locked up in Newgate or even hanged, for relieving the gene pool of a parasite. Well, justice was oft times questionably bestowed.

“Have you finished with the blue, Lizzy?” Jane patiently waited for her sister to comprehend the question before pointing to the thread. “The blue, Lizzy. May I use it now?”

“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth quickly handed it over, incautiously glancing over to where their cousin sat reading a book by the fire. His eyes weren’t on the page, however, and she looked away in embarrassment, pricking her finger with the needle in the process. “Ouch!” she cried, putting the offended digit int her mouth to ease the pain.

“Oh, Lizzy, are you alright?” Jane never believed in letting an injury go untreated. “Let me call Hill to bring you a cool, wet cloth.”

Elizabeth was at first going to object, thinking that she could go on her own to tend her finger and not bother the servant for so trifling a matter. That would have left Jane alone with Mr. Collins, though, and that was not acceptable.

“Perhaps it is more urgent,” Jane suddenly said, leaving her work to take her sister’s hand. “We shall go to the kitchen directly. Do not worry, Mr. Collins,” she cautioned, seeing the man start to rise from his own chair. “These things are often less serious than inconvenient and we shall no doubt take but a few moments.” Her smile so reassured him that he merely nodded and returned to his book.

Once the door was closed behind them Elizabeth let out a sigh. “Can you not make him go away permanently?”

“Let me see that finger, Lizzy.”

“It is nothing.” She held it out nonetheless. “Why did you not go with Mama and the others?”

“And leave you here alone with Mr. Collins? I could not subject you to that.” Satisfied that the injury was minor, Jane released her sister’s hand. “You cannot avoid him forever, Lizzy. Sooner or later he will find an opportunity to propose. What will you do then?”

“Refuse him, of course.”

“Is that wise?” Withdrawing to the alcove near the front window, Jane entreated Elizabeth to think seriously. “Would it not be more prudent to make your disinterest known, possibly redirecting his toward another, before that moment arrives?”

“Redirect him toward whom? Our mother is intent on keeping him for one of us because of the entail. Do you really think the man would suit any of our younger sisters?”

“What about considering how they might suit him?”

Elizabeth stared, aghast. “Jane! You cannot be thinking he is at all suitable material for anyone’s husband! I know you hate to think ill of anybody but really! We are speaking of Mr. Collins. He is completely ridiculous and I would sooner marry a total stranger than accept any offer he might make.”

“A total stranger?” Jane eyed her sister dubiously. “I have never heard you speak so unguardedly. You are not thinking of Mr. Wickham, are you?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no. Mr. Wickham could not support a wife on a Lieutenant’s wages. You need not worry that I would do anything so foolish merely to escape marriage to our cousin.”

Jane was unconvinced that her sister did not have a particular gentleman in mind that she favoured. If not Mr. Wickham then who could it be? Their circle was not very large. “That brings us back to the problem of whom to direct Mr. Collins’ attentions upon.”

“Quite frankly, I don’t care,” huffed Elizabeth. “It’s quite possible that those new dresses Mama is providing for Mary, Kitty and Lydia will dazzle him so that he forgets all about me. Now would that not be just perfect?” She stood, smoothing her skirts. “I cannot stay inside any longer. Come walk with me, Jane. We may speak of more pleasant topics, perhaps of Mr. Bingley.”

Jane readily agreed. The two sisters dressed warmly and quietly slipped out of the house.

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