Chapter Seven

Posted on Sunday, 10 December 2006

The November air was chill but Darcy soon found himself feeling quite warm with the exercise as he had completed yet another mile of brisk walking without seeing anything familiar. It seemed impossible that there was no recognisable landmark or that he had moved further from his desired destination rather than closer. Thankful for the quality of his boots, though they could do nothing for the lingering discomfort in the region he had injured the previous day, Darcy was relieved that there would be no blisters to add, at least.

The landscape had not varied to any degree; the same gently rolling hills, trees and woods broken up by pasture or fields. Darcy found himself comparing it to Derbyshire and the land with which he was more familiar. There was no feeling of desolation as one would get high in the Peak District and he was keenly aware of how much he missed that. However, the pleasantness of the current surroundings did not bring any sense of peace to his mind.

He consulted his timepiece and wondered if Miss Bingley had dispatched the hounds. If his horse had gone directly back to Netherfield it would have been nearly two hours since its arrival apprised them of his mishap.

Darcy trudged through yet another field of corn stubble, believing himself to be lost in the only part of England that was lacking roads. Either it was sheer bad luck or this corner of Hertfordshire was not popular, for not a road or track had he crossed. He had tried following one of the walls bordering a field to see if it led to a track of some sort, but only came upon yet another field adjoining the first. Being November there was no chance of meeting any farmers working the land.

It was time to sit down and think. The sun was obscured by clouds. On reflection, Darcy realised he had no idea which direction Netherfield lay even if he had been able to tell east from west. He may very well have been travelling in circles for some time already.

Resisting the temptation to give in to his frustration and kick the rock in his path, he instead found a tree to lean against while closely examining the details of the surrounding countryside for any signs of life. Within a few minutes he detected a sound that was not part of nature’s melody. Distant but distinctive, the ting ting of a bell could be heard. Darcy closed his eyes in an effort to identify the direction from whence it came. He could have spared himself the effort as the animal to which the bell was attached rounded a small hillock and the welcome sight of a donkey came into view.

His first impulse was to rush forward and secure the animal but after losing his horse twice in as many days he was more aware of the hazards of such rash actions. Instead, he made a soft clucking noise and was thrilled to see the animal’s ears rise and turn in the direction of the sound.

“Good....” he paused, confirming with a look before he said, “girl. Over here.”

Even without the presence of the bell it was obvious that the donkey was not a wandering stray. She had been well cared for, was not underweight, and Darcy lacked only a means for riding her. The bell was slung about her neck with a rope. The knot came undone easily enough and the rope then slipped through the sides of the crude halter, over her nose, and with the remaining length adequate as long as the rider’s arms were stretched forward.

One final dilemma was yet to be tackled. It had been some time since Darcy had ridden bareback and a donkey was a far cry from the refined horses of his own stable. The little animal was unlikely to stand still to be mounted and once spooked, it might be impossible to calm her.

This was one thing that simply could not be rushed.

It had taken some doing but Lieutenant Wickham had managed to extricate himself from the company of the young Misses Bennet to pursue a discreet liaison with their sister. Since Miss Elizabeth was not present on this excursion to town he thought it may be possible to find her at Longbourn. With this purpose in mind, discretion being of utmost importance, he took leave of his friends and set off on the road in the opposite direction of his aim, intending to circle around the town by means of a lesser travelled footpath and end up at his destination without anyone being the wiser. It was certainly a time consuming choice but that was the lesser of two evils with the added benefit of allowing Mr. Wickham the opportunity to further plan out his methods of contacting Miss Elizabeth once he made it to the house.

When the town was no longer in sight he doubled back on an adjoining path and walked for some distance undisturbed until his attention was captured by the sound of movement in the brush neighbouring the narrow track. In another moment the source of the noise hove into view and George Wickham stopped, blinked not once but twice, then strode forward to take the reins of a horse he recognised all too well. It was not the animal, per se, that was familiar but the saddle with the distinctive Darcy crest emblazoned upon the skirt.

The gentleman was at a loss to understand how the horse had become separated from his rider. Darcy was not prone to losing his seat and his mounts were never ill-tempered beasts. Wickham did a thorough check of the animal’s condition, partly for fear of being accused should it turn out to be injured, and was relieved to find no evidence of abuse upon it. The legs were straight and sound, he even nudged into the Lieutenant’s chest in search of an apple.

“What am I going to do with you?” Wickham sighed. Then fear shot down his spine. “What happened to Darcy? If he’s been hurt... Fitzwilliam is here... I’ll be blamed!”

He looked about in a panic. There was no obvious track to lead him back the way the horse had come. Thinking as quickly as possible, the young officer set off on his former course, pulling on the reins. A mere fifty yards further on he nearly walked into Miss Bennet.

“Ah, Miss Bennet!” he cried excitedly. “And Miss Elizabeth! How happy I am to see you. I’ve lost my way and can you tell me how to get back to town?”

Jane looked on him with sympathy while Elizabeth raised a doubtful eyebrow, crossing her arms and preparing to make known her opinion when she caught sight of the markings on the saddle.

“That is Mr. Darcy’s horse!” she said, mouth agape in shock. “Whatever are you doing with his horse, Mr. Wickham? He cannot have given it to you, on such terms as you certainly are.” She drew her shoulders back and dared him to explain the situation.

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth,” he stuttered, eyelashes beating a steady rhythm in Jane’s direction. “It is Mr. Darcy’s horse, you are quite correct. I found it just a moment ago, rambling in the forest.”

“Is that so?” Elizabeth pressed her lips together firmly, one hand grabbing hold of her sister’s arm. “Come, Jane. We must find Colonel Forster at once. Something dreadful must have happened to Mr. Darcy for his horse to be wandering about in this manner.”

“Yes! That is what we must do,” agreed the Lieutenant, scurrying after the two ladies.

Jane was stumbling in her efforts to keep up with Elizabeth. “Lizzy, what are you doing? I thought you liked Mr. Wickham? Did you not say that –?”

“Now is not the time, Jane,” hissed her sister. “I shall explain everything... later.”

Looking back over her shoulder, Jane next addressed Wickham. “What do you think has happened to Mr. Darcy, sir?”

“I have no idea. I pray no harm has befallen him, truly!”

The horse gave a snort. At least, it could have been the horse except Jane knew better for she was walking very close to Elizabeth. So close, in fact, that when the other woman suddenly rounded upon the gentleman, Jane had to duck to avoid the lashing.

“You cannot be serious, Mr. Wickham! You have spent the better part of the last weeks attempting to convince me that Mr. Darcy, your childhood friend, is nothing more than a scoundrel; an ungrateful whelp unfit to be seen in decent company!”

“Miss Elizabeth!” The Lieutenant came to a halt, his boots skidding on the bare soil. “I beg that in your current distress you do not exaggerate your recollections of our conversations.”

“Distress?” mumbled Jane. Neither of the others heard her.

“I may have given you to understand that Mr. Darcy and I are not the best of friends due to some ... misunderstandings between us. Please, do not think ill of him because of that.”

Elizabeth stared, mouth open, then snapped it shut and whirled about, dragging Jane by the arm once again.

“Lizzy, Lizzy! Slow down, please.” The pleading note in her sister’s voice persuaded Elizabeth to moderate their pace. “Why the rush? You don’t really think something dreadful has happened to the gentleman, do you? Do you?”

Elizabeth inhaled slowly and deeply to regain control. It would do nobody any good if she appeared in Meryton frenzied and nervous enough to rival Mrs. Bennet. “You’re right of course, Jane. You’re right. My imagination is getting the better of me.” How could she tell anyone that only the previous morning she had found the gentleman prostrate upon the ground, having been separated from the same horse? No, that would only lead to revealing the rest of the story; the kiss, the kiss before that and how Elizabeth’s shocking behaviour could only have encouraged him. All of that before she had even come to doubt Mr. Wickham’s testimony!

Jane was tugging at her sleeve. “Lizzy,” she whispered in her sister’s ear. “You will tell me later about this imagination of yours.”

Elizabeth could not reply to that and remained silent until they finally reached the main road into Meryton. By that time her imagination had come full circle and, unfortunately, so had her mother.

“Lizzy! Jane!” Mrs. Bennet strode across the lane in all her matronly elegance. “Oh, Mr. Wickham! I did not see you there.”

Bowing politely, the young officer wondered how she could possibly have missed his red coat, not to mention the horse accompanying him. He also wondered how to extract himself and Miss Elizabeth in order to have that necessary conversation with her. Mr. Wickham was not at all satisfied that he’d persuaded her to discard all that he had previously said.

It was Jane who replied. “Lizzy and I were out walking when we happened upon Mr. Wickham, who seems to have taken a wrong turn somewhere.” She looked at the other two.

Seeing nothing wrong with this explanation, their mother called the rest of her brood to her side. “We have made some excellent purchases. I daresay they will do the trick!” She winked broadly at her eldest. “Come along, girls.”

Elizabeth was desperate to remain, to see Colonel Forster and try to discover what had happened to Mr. Darcy.

“I wish to purchase some thread, Mama,” Jane quietly said. “I found I needed more blue than we had at home. Lizzy will stay to accompany me back to Longbourn.”

“Very well.” Mrs. Bennet was unperturbed by the arrangement and was soon on her way, her other three daughters in her wake.

Looking expectantly at the Lieutenant, Elizabeth waited for him to lead the way to his commanding officer. She was disappointed in the Colonel’s response to her concerns, however. Contrary to her expectations, he did not send out his entire company to search for the missing gentleman. He did, however, charge two of his men with returning Mr. Darcy’s horse to Netherfield. Having done her best, Elizabeth took her sister’s arm and together they began the walk back to Longbourn.

The countryside began to have a more familiar feel. Darcy was careful not to let his relief be incautiously communicated to his ass, for the animal was far from easily managed. He hoped to gain another mile at least before relinquishing her to freedom once more.

The sight of a rooftop suddenly poking above the canopy of trees nevertheless caused him to dig his heels into the sides of the creature. She leapt forward, letting out a bray of displeasure, yet failing to unseat the irritant.

What unmitigated joy Darcy felt when a tidily clipped hedge appeared before them! In the next instant a figure emerged from a break in the row. It was none other than Mr. Collins. Painfully aware of the lack of dignity in his current situation, another rush of relief flowed through Darcy when he saw that the other man was too preoccupied to even notice the oddity approaching him. Pemberley’s young master quickly slipped from the back of his mount and with amazing ease managed to lead her to concealment. Luck seemed determined to stay with him, preventing Mr. Collins’ attention from wavering in his single-minded pursuit of whatever troubled him.

“I am a very patient man,” he was muttering. “It is necessary in my profession, although I must in all modesty attribute it to my unusually sensitive nature which is only more greatly complemented with compassion for those less fortunate.”

At first Darcy thought the man was rehearsing lines from some dramatic stage performance. It soon became apparent, however, that he was indeed rehearsing, but for something that caused Darcy increasing uneasiness to overhear.

“You will understand, therefore, that it is not a selfish desire on my part, but one rooted in the deepest and most honourable motives; that of familial devotion and responsibility to protect, to care for the weaker members of our family.” Mr. Collins brought his hand out before him, as if taking hold of an invisible object, which he then brought to his lips and bestowed a reverent kiss. “As the heir to your family home I feel it is my duty to provide for my fair cousins in whatever manner I can. It is with this in mind that I approach you to present an offer I am assured that you will find not only acceptable but will embrace in the spirit intended.” He paused as if listening to a response, shaking his head with assumed humility. “You are too good, my dear. Bless you.”

Darcy could stand it no longer. He knew not which Miss Bennet was to be the unfortunate recipient of this marriage proposal but in his opinion not even the senseless Miss Lydia deserved such a husband. What was he to do, however? It was hardly in good form to interrupt the man in mid sentence, yet allowing him to continue was unthinkable. Self preservation won out in the end and Darcy stepped from his cover only to find himself shoved aside by the donkey who rushed forward in excitement.

The rest was a blur as Mr. Collins let out a yelp of fright and set off running as fast as his chubby legs could carry him, sparing no backward glance and never noticing the well dressed gentleman in the moment before he disappeared headfirst into the bushes.

Darcy, for his part, let out a long sigh. His trials had been numerous since the morning began. What was one more? In fact, after the hours of riding, walking and uncomfortably travelling by donkey, without food or water, he was quite willing to surrender to the inevitable. Promptly, he reclined onto the cool earth and closed his eyes.

Chapter Eight

Posted on Sunday, 17 December 2006

First I must convey my thanks to Mary S for the opening line of this chapter. :) She said it while we chatted one evening and I simply had to use it. Thanks Mary!

“A handsome man should not add to his disadvantages by being a great kisser.” Elizabeth’s horror knew no bounds. I cannot believe I said that aloud!

Jane had ceased all movement, perhaps even breathing, to stare at her sister. In a hushed voice she said, “Of which gentleman are you speaking, Lizzy?” They were almost home and she practically dragged Elizabeth from the path to stop their progress. “Lizzy, you cannot make such a statement and expect me to remain silent. Even I cannot ignore that! Who is this man you’ve been kissing?”

“I have not been kissing him,” cried Elizabeth. “He was kissing me!”

“A small distinction,” replied her sister, her own lips pursed in an expression somewhere between disapproval and a smirk. “I did not hear you say you objected.”

“I had no opportunity to object,” Elizabeth protested. “It all happened so unexpectedly, both times.”

“More than once!” Jane pulled her closer. “Who is he, Lizzy? Tell me.”

“I cannot.”

Concerned, Jane’s voice softened. “Did he... was there more to it than simply kissing?”

“Oh, Jane!” a mortified Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Is that not bad enough? What would people think? What would people say? How could I face anyone ever again if they knew that I’d... that I’d actually liked it!”

“Wonderful! I knew something momentous had happened to you,” laughed Jane. “Now, let me think. He must be someone you like, and who likes you, of course. How else would you have ended up kissing?”

Her sister was shaking her head. “Please stop. It’s nothing like that.”

“What do you mean? Nothing like what? He doesn’t like you? You don’t like him?” Understanding dawned in Jane’s eyes. “There is only one man you don’t like at present. Could it be Mr. Darcy you were kissing?”

“Hush!” Elizabeth looked around them quickly, relieved to see no-one else. “Stop saying I was kissing him. It was Mr. Darcy who kissed me and I would prefer that you drop the subject immediately.”

“Oh, but you liked his kisses. Can it be that you like him as well?” She held back a laugh but could not stop a smile as she watched Elizabeth furiously fan her flaming cheeks. “Lizzy, in all seriousness, what are you going to do about him?”

“Do? Do?” Her tongue kept tripping over the syllable. “There is nothing to do. If Mama found out there would be a big to do about it, you know, and then there would be nothing to do but ... but...”

Jane grabbed her sister’s hands and held them tightly. “Calm down, Lizzy. If that’s all there is to it then I shall not say a word to anyone.”

“Not even Mr. Bingley?”

“Not even Mr. Bingley,” nodded Jane. “But you had best be careful how you behave around the gentleman in future.” Wonder filled her at the thought of the quiet and solemn Mr. Darcy conducting himself so inappropriately, and what could have inspired him to kiss Elizabeth? After all, he had declared her not to be a temptation for him. This in itself was enough to encourage Jane into deciding a closer observation of the man was in order the next time she was in his company.

Elizabeth was still flushed in embarrassment. “Please go on ahead of me, Jane. I cannot appear before Mama and our sisters until I have regained my composure. I shall be perfectly alright out here alone, I assure you.”

Of course she would. They were within sight of Longbourn house once on the path again. Jane nodded sympathetically; if their mother enquired, she would say Elizabeth had gone upstairs when they came in. Thus she left her sister taking advantage of the cool air to remove the heat from her flushed face.

Once she was alone, Elizabeth took several steadying breaths, willing her blood to stop racing. How was it that the mere mention of kissing that man sent her heart into wild spasms? It would take more than a few minutes to settle her mind enough, to be prepared to face her mother’s endless suggestions for capturing Mr. Darcy. None of them were directed toward the daughter most interested in the gentleman and the thought of any of her younger sisters being successful in the endeavour sent Elizabeth’s stomach turning.

It could all be moot, though, she suddenly realised. Where was Mr. Darcy? What had happened to him that his horse was found wandering about, having lost its rider? After having witnessed his misfortune of the previous day there was no telling what evil might have befallen him.

These new thoughts were hardly helpful. Elizabeth found herself desirous of a greater distance from the house, not simply more time to grow calm. Immediately she set off down the path which wound around the perimeter of the lawns, skirting the hedges that bordered the region furthest from the main house. It was at this juncture that she was brought up short by the sight of a man’s body sprawled beneath the shrubbery. Shocked into silence, she rushed forward, only one possible identity in her mind.

Elizabeth’s fears were confirmed as she drew nearer; the high quality boots and clothing could belong to one man alone.

Mr. Darcy! The name reverberated in her head, her voice unable to function. Kneeling beside him, she reached for one outstretched hand and cradled it against her cheek. Oh, I knew some evil had befallen you! Mr. Wickham will not be allowed to escape punishment for what he has done. I swear that I shall see him brought to justice! His gloved hand resting in hers, Elizabeth silently willed Mr. Darcy to open his eyes, to look at her one more time and to......

Before she knew what she was doing, their lips touched. It was too late to regret the action but there was no doubt that the gentleman was not dead for his arms had soon encircled Miss Bennet’s form and drawn her close, never interrupting the kiss. Not that she wished to end it, of course, but the completely improper thoughts accompanying the activity would be enough to make even her brash youngest sister blush. All too soon her mouth was free to speak once more, however. It was Mr. Darcy who managed to speak first, although his voice was devoid of its usual smooth, mellifluous tone.

“Mmmmmisssssssss.... Bennet.”

Elizabeth’s hand rose to cover her mouth, not noticing that she still held that of the gentleman. “Oh, I feared you were dead!”

“Dead!” The thought crossed his mind to ask her why she would be kissing a dead man but it was quickly replaced by another. She kissed me this time! “I can assure you that I am very much alive, Miss Bennet.” The colour rose in her cheeks, Darcy instinctively tightening his hold on her.

“I am.... gratified to discover that... sir,” she managed in a breathy voice.

“Miss Bennet,” he began again. “We must stop meeting like this.” Words pushed their way past his lips as he could no longer resist the temptation to confess all that was in his mind and his heart. Well, almost all. There were still some things better left unsaid... until a more appropriate time. “A more permanent arrangement is desirable, do you not agree?”

Observing the quirky upturn in his smile, Elizabeth had not the power to refuse but still retained the presence of mind to ask the precise meaning of his question.

“I am asking you to honour me with your hand, to become my wife. Will you marry me, Miss Bennet?”

“How could I say no?” she smiled, indicating their relative positions with his arms firmly clasping her to his chest as they laid together on the cold ground. “And when my mother and sisters ask about the manner of your proposal, shall I tell them how completely inappropriate the situation was?”

“Certainly not!” cried Darcy. “I will not have anyone thinking scandalously of your behaviour, whatever they may think of mine. Yet you have not said yes, either. Relieve my suffering, I beg you.”

A tantalizing smile overspread her face. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. I will marry you. I cannot believe you have asked me, that I have accepted and we are... we are...”

“Engaged,” finished Darcy.

Elizabeth’s smile turned to an expression of concern. “Oh, but did your head get hit? Where are you injured? What did he do to you?” She struggled to free herself in order to gain a better look at his person.

“Who?” Mildly amused with her attempts, he allowed his arms to release her.

“Why, Mr. Wickham of course! Jane and I discovered him skulking about the countryside with your horse. I knew he had done no good but Colonel Forster would not believe me.” She had now regained her feet but did not know how to begin examining the gentleman.

“He had my horse?” Darcy started to rise but Elizabeth pushed him back down.

“You are going nowhere until I am assured that you are uninjured.”

“I am perfectly alright, Elizabeth.” Despite her protests he gained his feet, every inch the gentleman. Offering his arm, Darcy suggested that they walk on to the Bennet home. “Since I became separated from my horse earlier today I have little idea of where I am. However, having your expert guidance we shall arrive at Longbourn in no time at all, I’m sure.”

“As am I,” giggled Elizabeth, “for it is just the other end of this garden.” She pointed to the lawn which spread out before them.

“I see.” Softly chuckling at this turn of events, he shook his head and bade them continue.

The house was a hive of activity when they entered. Mrs. Bennet was uninterested in Elizabeth’s explanation of her encounter with Mr. Darcy, his misfortunes in losing his horse as well as his way and her subsequent invitation to take refreshment at Longbourn. No, an unparalleled opportunity had presented itself and Mrs. Bennet was going to make the most of it. Her daughters might not yet have the benefit of new dresses but they had the advantage of Mr. Darcy being in their midst. Not a moment could be wasted.

For his part, Darcy sought to remain polite and attentive to the woman who was Elizabeth’s mother and would soon become his own mother-in-law. Nothing could sway him from his decision to marry Elizabeth Bennet, now that the offer had been made. Until that moment he had dithered betwixt and between, encouraged and dismayed, confident and doubting. All of that was moot once the words had passed his lips and he’d been accepted. At what point their engagement would be made public had not yet been discussed, however. Darcy realised he must speak with Mr. Bennet soon, as a matter of formality.

The lady of the house was speaking, soliciting his opinion regarding dinner. “You will stay, will you not? It is no trouble, of course.”

There was nothing he would enjoy more than to spend the rest of the day in Elizabeth’s company. “If I may dispatch a note to Netherfield, arrange for my carriage to be sent on later, then it would be my pleasure to join your family for dinner, Mrs. Bennet.”

Clucking in satisfaction like a fussing hen, she excused herself to attend to informing the cook of the necessary changes. Without their mother to hold them back, Mary, Kitty and Lydia found a quick escape while Jane conveniently sought out paper and pen for the gentleman. This left Elizabeth and Darcy to relative privacy for the moment, though the former could feel her sister’s eyes upon their every move.

Elizabeth fidgeted. Darcy watched her, smiling inwardly and composing in his head the short note to his manservant. Surely Miss Bennet would see to the letter’s delivery immediately upon its completion, allowing him a few moments alone with Elizabeth.

As hoped, Jane sat quietly and when Darcy folded the page, writing a name on the outside, she offered to arrange for a servant to convey it to Netherfield post haste. The door closed softly behind her and Elizabeth finally looked up.

An apology was on her lips, an apology for her mother’s behaviour, yet Darcy would near none of it.

“You do not understand,” she persisted. “Mama is convinced that one of my sisters will be the victor in the pursuit of your hand, sir. She would never think of me as a candidate.”

Darcy lightly stroked the back of her hand with his fingers. “Of course our engagement will come as a surprise to her, as it will to everyone! It is not as if either of us advertised our interest. In fact, I was nearly convinced you would refuse me, and all over some false rumour you may have heard.” He moved closer, taking Elizabeth’s hand and raising it to a point just below his mouth. His lips were poised to deliver a kiss upon the back, but at the last second deviated; he deftly turned her wrist upward and softly caressed the spot where her pulse beat strongly.

The rest of his words barely registered on her. Elizabeth was vaguely aware of sounds from outside the room, footsteps outside the door and a knock patiently applied, though what attention she was able to focus remained on the handsome gentleman who continued to amaze her with his actions. Even when he withdrew his hand and moved a more respectable distance away she did not waver in the study of his figure. Eventually Elizabeth became aware of other voices, realising that not only had Jane rejoined them but so had two more of her sisters.

“Lizzy, you will never guess what we saw from my bedroom window!”

“Lydia,” reproved Jane in a quiet voice.

The younger girl completely ignored the hint. “Mr. Collins was being chased by a donkey! He ran clear across the potato field and the donkey kept nudging him when he would trip and fall. It was ever so funny! I tired myself out laughing!” She looked directly at Mr. Darcy as if to judge his reaction. Unable to interpret his expression, however, and finding no amusement in commanding his attention, Lydia returned to her narrative. “I declare he was halfway to Meryton before I could not see him anymore for the trees.”

Darcy felt compelled to comment at last. “It is unfortunate for Mr. Collins that he did not choose the direction of the house.”

Lydia snorted. “Oh, that would have been funny, indeed! Do think what Mama would have said when the donkey appeared in this sitting room!” She laughed delightedly, Kitty following her example.

Jane sighed loudly enough to be heard over the raucous noise of her younger sisters.

“Come, Kitty.” Lydia chortled, gesturing to the door. “Let us go and tell Hill. She will appreciate the story more than some others.” One last look was more than she could resist, however, as she turned to stick out her tongue before the door completely closed.

“Well,” Elizabeth softly said, then fell silent. She was struck by the irony of the situation, of how she had gone out of her way to avoid a marriage proposal from her cousin only to hear that he ended up being pursued by an ass.

Darcy, on the other hand, thought the pairing very fitting, although he wisely said little to that effect.

Chapter Nine

Posted on Sunday, 24 December 2006

Colonel Fitzwilliam was not prone to worrying. That was a female malady, one that often plagued his mother and sisters. In the years he had lived at home all manner of catastrophes had been forecast, none of them coming to fruition, yet that did not discourage the expressions of misgiving whenever the Earl or one of his sons ventured from the family home.

Fitzwilliam often wondered how they bore the strain. It was not often that he found himself in a comparable state of mind but Darcy’s letter had truly alarmed him. The reaction of his younger cousin did nothing to alleviate the Colonel’s concern. Georgiana obviously did not appreciate the danger while her brother clearly did, else why hi plea for help?

Fitzwilliam had devised a plan. Unfortunately, he arrived at Netherfield to discover Darcy was absent, a fact which gave the gentleman no comfort at all. He weathered more than an hour in the company of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and just when he felt an overwhelming urge to escape, their brother appeared, much to the surprise of his sisters.

Sensing that Bingley would be sympathetic to his friend’s plight, the Colonel suggested at the earliest opportunity that he would like to speak with him on a matter of import. Not wishing to alarm the ladies, for ladies were always more inclined toward the subject of romance and matrimony, the attempted avoidance of which was sure to raise their ire, Fitzwilliam was careful in the wording of his request.

Bingley was only too happy to comply and immediately offered the retreat of his library. Not having one whit of an idea what his guest wanted to discuss, he nevertheless saw to their comforts, pulling an extra armchair closer and pouring each of them a drink.

Fitzwilliam set aside the drink and got to the point. “I had a note from Darcy, which is what brings me here today. We must brook no delay. I have formulated a plan to extricate him from this trouble.”

“Trouble?” Bingley’s eyes were round. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you.”

“A woman,” explained the Colonel, his voice hushed and dramatic. Noting the other man’s reaction he continued, “I see you know what I mean. I have come in all haste with the express purpose of separating my cousin from this woman, removing him from her clutches and thereby sparing everyone much grief.”

“Darcy wrote of her to you?” Bingley could not believe that. “You know who she is?”

“Yes. Well, no. He didn’t tell me her name but Georgiana knew and revealed everything when she realised the seriousness of the situation.” He patted one of his pockets. “I even have a letter in her own hand, begging her brother to heed his better judgement and come back to London with me.”

Blinking in surprise, Bingley’s head moved side to side in amazement. “Back to London? Do you believe he can be persuaded so easily?”

Fitzwilliam was confident. “Oh, yes. He wants only the excuse to leave town, which I shall readily supply. In no time I will have him safe and sound, far away and out of harm’s reach.”

“But what of the young lady!” cried Bingley.

“I am sure she will be able to find another victim soon enough.”

“Victim! You haven’t even met her. How can you be certain she is what you suspect?” Not at all happy with the purpose behind the Colonel’s appearance, Bingley argued the only way he knew how. “What if Darcy truly cares for her?”

“You are forgetting that it was Darcy himself who apprised me of what was going on and asked for help.” Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was delivering a lesson to a schoolboy. “I’m sure you’ve seen it many times with others. A pretty girl catches his attention, aims her charms and voilà! So, Darcy succumbed in a moment of weakness, has been drawn in by a pretty face and it’s up to us to protect him from a nasty fall.”

The scenario was difficult for Bingley to believe. Even replaying the conversation he’d had with his friend a mere two days previous, the expressions Darcy had used, and the evident concern when stating them, did not at all seem to be that of a man under a spell of some sort. He was just too irritatingly serious in presenting his arguments. Yet in spite of these misgivings there were still questions.

“Are you with me on this?” Fitzwilliam was studying his companion closely. If he couldn’t count on Bingley’s assistance it would definitely be awkward. Once again he’ posed his question and awaited the answer.

Bingley opened his mouth but the sound which filled the room was not his voice.

“What the devil...?” said Fitzwilliam without thinking.

“It is Caroline,” responded Bingley. The shrieking noise was familiar to his ears. “She has probably broken a fingernail.”

“What?”

The reply was more gestures than words as the shrieking became a wail before gaining impossibly in volume, culminating in a piercing shine with the opening of the library door.

“Charles!”

Fitzwilliam winced while Bingley tiredly turned to face his sister. “Yes, Caroline?”

“You must come quickly! Something terrible has happened!” Her lips quivered in her pale face.

Suddenly coming to life, her brother rushed to her side. “What is it? What has happened?”

“Oh, it is horrible! Colonel Forster’s men are here. They have brought Mr. Darcy’s horse but not Mr. Darcy!”

Fitzwilliam felt no desire to question her further. He immediately went in search of the officers, finding them impatiently standing inside the front entrance. “Tell me what happened. Where did you find the horse?”

“It was another officer who found the animal, sir. He brought it to the camp,” explained one of the young men.

“There was no sign of my cousin, Darcy, where the horse was found?”

The lieutenants looked at one another, then the first spoke again. “Colonel Forster asked that question, I’m sure, but only Lieutenant Wickham can provide the answer.”

“Wickham!” cried Fitzwilliam. “I wouldn’t believe a word that lying scoundrel has to say.” He turned to see Bingley coming toward them. “I’m going to speak with this Colonel Forster and find Wickham this instant.”

“I’ll go with you,” a worried Bingley nodded.

They left the two officers standing in the hallway as they headed straight for the stable to have their horses readied. So great was their preoccupation that neither gentleman noticed the figure of a servant approach the kitchen door to be given admittance by the cook. In another ten minutes they were away, galloping toward Meryton.

Edmund Brown was efficient; very efficient. It would not have been possible to remain in Mr. Darcy’s service otherwise. Within minutes he had assembled the requested items, packed them neatly into a small valise and sent them along with the young servant returning to Longbourn.

The additional request was unusual, though not odd, yet Brown pondered the question of keeping the master’s whereabouts concealed from Miss Bingley should also include Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. The presence of neither gentleman had been anticipated.

A discreet enquiry revealed that both had left the house and so the matter was rendered irrelevant for the time being.

Brown went about his regular duties, his mind pleasantly occupied with the possibility of a new Mistress soon to take up residence at Pemberley.

“He’s lying,” insisted Fitzwilliam for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Clearly Colonel Forster was tired of the conversation. Bingley was of no help. His attention had wandered at the first mention of Wickham having been in the company of the two eldest Misses Bennet. A strange, vacant, faraway look came over him and he continued to be unresponsive even twenty minutes later.

“So you’ve said,” the other Colonel sighed. “What would you suggest I do? Flog him until he confesses? You know as well as I that a man like Wickham would confess to anything under that sort of inducement.”

That was true enough.

“Wickham must show us where he found the horse. He cannot lie about this! The two ladies would have come upon him soon after and could expose any deception.”

Forster nodded agreement, calling to a soldier outside his doorway. “Bring me Lieutenant Wickham and tell Smythe to get ten men ready to mount a search.” Dismissing him with a gesture, Forster brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it. “There is not much light left for today.”

“That makes it all the more important that we get started now.” Fitzwilliam found himself wishing his only concern was what had sent him rushing to Hertfordshire in the first place.

The sound of Bingley’s voice made the other men jump. “I will not be very useful in the search but I could go to Longbourn, since I know the Bennets, and see if the ladies have any other information which might be helpful.”

Fitzwilliam saw no reason to argue. He was actually glad to see Bingley make himself scarce since he would be more worried about the man becoming lost in his absentminded state.

So Bingley made haste to his horse and was quickly on the road to Longbourn. He did occasionally think of his friend, Darcy, but was not overly concerned that anything dreadful had occurred. Darcy was perfectly capable of looking after himself. He had certainly taken fine care of his friend over the years!

With that thought Bingley patted his pocket, smiling with the prospect of seeing the fair and lovely countenance of Jane Bennet very soon, and urging his horse on even faster.

The servant had returned in plenty of time before dinner. Although rooms for a gentleman to use were in short supply at Longbourn, Darcy was shown to Mr. Bennet’s chamber to wash and change into the clean attire his man had sent from Netherfield. Mr. Bennet himself was not a little surprised to find another gentleman in his room when he opened the door. Witnessing the imposing Mr. Darcy struggling with his shirt, as there was no servant to assist him, more than made up for any feelings of being put out, however. He did find it odd that the young man spent such a long time fussing over his appearance, but then it was said he was a fastidious sort and Mr. Bennet could merely shrug his shoulders and chuckle quietly. He completed his own change of clothes much more quickly, enjoying the rest of Mr. Darcy’s exhibition from the comfort of an armchair. When at last the other man was done, or seemed satisfied in his appearance at least, Mr. Bennet thought it prudent to offer him a drink as recompense for the show.

It really was a special treat to observe the younger man, suddenly nervous in his presence, his hand shaking a little as it held the glass. It almost evoked sympathy in Elizabeth’s father. Mr. Bennet managed to quell it, though, and let the silence lengthen, further pressuring Mr. Darcy to make the first attempt at conversation.

It worked.

“I would like to thank you and Mrs. Bennet for the kindness of inviting me to stay for dinner, sir.”

A smile could not be restrained. “The circumstances are only a little unusual. Lizzy is known to bring home strays on occasion but they are more often kittens or puppies that have followed her on her walks.” His expression requested enlightenment as to how and where his daughter had happened upon the young gentleman.

Darcy was not about to confess his predilection for becoming separated from his horse, nor for losing his way. That was hardly going to recommend him to his future father-in-law. “I presume those strays are also fed.” A tentative smile warmed his mouth.

“Oh yes, and they end up spending a comfortable night in Lizzy’s room.” Mr. Bennet’s gaze narrowed. “Of course, that will not happen in this case.”

Darcy’s smile disappeared and he swallowed uncomfortably. “Indeed,” he managed in a weak croak.

“Well then,” the older man said, finishing his drink and rising from the chair. “Shall we go downstairs and brave the company of my wife and daughters?”

Nodding mutely, Darcy followed his host’s example, downing his entire glass of port. Leaving the chair, he straightened his jacket, took one last glance in the mirror and was shocked at the petrified expression on his face. A few deep breaths would be helpful in restoring his equilibrium but Mr. Bennet was waiting at the door. Darcy prayed that the short walk to the parlour would suffice and that his reputation wasn’t already in jeopardy before he even began to solicit Elizabeth’s hand from her father.

Chapter Ten

Posted on Monday, 1 January 2007

It was only to be expected that Mr. Bingley would have more success locating his quarry than Colonel Fitzwilliam in finding his. Never mind the fact that both were at the same place that Bingley had gone. Had Fitzwilliam given the matter a moment’s thought, real thought, surely even he could have concluded that his cousin was more likely to be found at the side of his heart’s desire.

However, this necessitated a romantic bent and the good Colonel, as bent as he was, did not incline toward romanticism. At that precise moment he was, in fact, quite bent out of shape.

“Look here, Wickham,” Fitzwilliam snapped. “You’ve led us on quite a merry expedition but it’s late now, and getting dark. What say you stop this nonsense and we can all get back in time for dinner?” His stomach gave a loud rumble, punctuating his point.

“What nonsense? You asked me to show you where I found the horse, which I did. It was you who insisted on trying to backtrack the beast’s trail in the hope of finding Darcy at the other end. There is nothing more I can do.” He added a reluctant, “Sir.”

Fitzwilliam took a step forward only to be drawn up short by a more formal utterance.

“Sir?” A lieutenant waited for the Colonel to acknowledge him before he proceeded. “As you pointed out, the light will soon be gone. We did not come prepared to search in the dark. I suggest we return to camp now and start again in the morning.”

Leaving his cousin lost in who knew what condition for a further twelve hours was not a course of action Fitzwilliam preferred. As much as he hated it, however, there was really no choice. With effort he nodded to the lieutenant who communicated to the other troops the change in direction.

Within a half hour the sun had set, darkness settling over the countryside and the trees enveloped in the night. The group of soldiers stopped in a small clearing.

“Which way now, sir?”

Fitzwilliam looked at Wickham.

Wickham blinked.

“Um...”

“This is unprecedented!” Mr. Bennet announced gleefully. “Two gentlemen visitors, calling separately at Longbourn, and yet there is the mystery of the missing clergyman! Where is my good cousin, Mr. Collins? Do you know, sir?” He turned on Mr. Bingley, just coming through the door and looking quite startled to be thus addressed. “Have you come with some information?”

“Alas, no,” the young man quickly replied. “Coincidentally, it seems, I have come seeking information from you, or more particularly, from your daughters, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.” It was only when his gaze sought out the fair maidens that Bingley espied his friend’s presence in the room. His jaw fell open in shock and he knew not what to say.

“Now what could my daughters possibly have to offer that I do not?” Mr. Bennet blithely continued, observing every reaction in the room. Jane was prettily coloured, a light blush brightening her cheeks, while Elizabeth appeared more interested in silently observing one of the young gentlemen. Said young gentleman had turned interesting shades of red. “Mr. Bingley, I believe you have my daughters’ attention.”

Startled, Bingley grinned sheepishly. “Oddly enough, my question has been answered.”

“Answered?” Mr. Bennet frowned, certain he had not missed any conversation, as closely as he had observed all the parties in the room. “What was the question?”

“It concerned my friend Darcy’s horse and Lieutenant Wickham but now that I have found Darcy here, with you, he may explain.” It was a struggle indeed to take his eyes off of Miss Bennet.

“Lieutenant Wickham and Mr. Darcy’s horse, eh? That is an explanation I would like to hear as well.” Smiling beneficently, Longbourn’s patriarch fixed the latter gentleman with an inquisitive gaze.

Darcy shook his head. “I can offer no testimony, I am sorry to say, for I know nothing about the matter.” He looked to his friend for further instruction.

“I can tell you what happened, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “Jane and I came upon Mr. Wickham when we walked to Meryton earlier this afternoon. He had Mr. Darcy’s horse, saying it had appeared from the woods while he was out walking. The circumstances were suspicious, to say the least. We proceeded to Colonel Forster and he charged his men to return the horse to Netherfield.”

“That is all?” Mr. Bennet was very disappointed.

“Oh, my sister was in hysterics!” cried Bingley. “Darcy, you cannot imagine how she is suffering right now, imagining every terrible tragedy from the most dreadful of penny novels.”

“I think I can imagine,” said three voices simultaneously. No-one was quite sure who said it but Mr. Bennet, Darcy and Elizabeth each knew at least one who had spoken.

“Then you may return to Netherfield and reassure her that no harm has befallen me,” Darcy firmly suggested.

Bingley would not be gotten rid of so easily now that he was in the presence of his angel after so long an absence. “It would be pointless without you. She would believe nothing unless she could see you in person.”

“If she is so far gone as that then you may be better served in taking along the apothecary with some substance to calm her.” Mr. Bennet nodded his head sagely. “If left untreated, nerves can become a plague on an entire household.” He brought a finger to his lips to silence the giggling from one corner of the room.

With impeccable timing Mrs. Bennet entered. With equal astuteness she said, “Mr. Bingley! You are here!”

“Ah, yes.” Her husband joined her by the door, one hand taking her elbow and preparing to steer her back the way she had come. “As you see, we have another guest come to dine with us, my dear. There must be some changes you need to convey to Hill.”

Her reply faded away as the couple headed toward the kitchen.

Not a word was spoken in the parlour, yet all eyes were busily surveying the other occupants. Jane smiled serenely, entirely captivated by Mr. Bingley’s presence. Kitty and Lydia giggled quietly, wishing to avoid being noticed by Mr. Darcy, their mother’s designs uppermost in their minds and a fate to be eschewed at all costs. Elizabeth curiously observed the two gentlemen eyeing one another.

“I do not quite understand Miss Bingley’s distress,” she ventured. “Mr. Darcy sent a note to Netherfield earlier today.”

Darcy’s gaze fell to his feet. “I must confess that my note was not addressed to Miss Bingley but to my manservant.”

“Oh.”

More giggling was heard from the corner.

“I dare say it would not have been a problem if those officers had not shown up with your horse,” offered Bingley. “It certainly sent us all into a panic. I suppose Brown will inform your cousin when he returns to Netherfield from his search for you.”

Darcy’s head came up with a snap. “My cousin?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam was there was I arrived home from London.”

“A Colonel!” came a dual gasp from the corner, followed by more giggling.

Even Jane could not ignore such obvious foolishness, yet the two gentlemen did not appear to have noticed. Bingley continued speaking as if he had not been interrupted.

“You are surprised? He said he came at your express request.”

The emphasis was not lost on Darcy. “I did not ask him to come. I asked only for some counsel.” Anything he may have to say now is irrelevant. I have made my decision without his input and am perfectly satisfied with the outcome. Darcy further thought that if Fitzwilliam believed he would hear one word about the temptations his cousin had struggled to resist, detailed descriptions of his delightful downfall, then he would quickly be disabused of that expectation!

Bingley was biting his lip. “He appears to have come to deliver it in person.”

“Will he come here?” Lydia breathed out the question.

“I certainly hope not!” her two elder sisters replied with enthusiasm.

Elizabeth immediately apologised. “It is not that we would not welcome your cousin,” she explained to Darcy, communicating genuine regret, “but some may be too welcoming, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Lizzy!” wailed the two youngest Bennets.

Mary could stand it no longer. “I can stand this no longer,” she announced, rising from her chair where no-one had noticed her sitting for the last half hour. “Perhaps Mama requires some assistance, or Hill, or someone.”

Bingley hurried to open the door before she marched into the closed portal.

Lydia snorted disdainfully. “Well, it’s not as if she has any chance with a Colonel.”

Elizabeth stood up, prompting Darcy to trip over his own feet in his hurry to rise. “I’m sure it is near time for dinner. We should, I think, go to the dining room.”

“An excellent idea, Lizzy,” agreed Jane. She was just as quick to make her way to Bingley’s side, gracefully sidestepping the wobbling Darcy.

Mrs. Bennet was pleased to see them all appear. She had been about to send a protesting Mary to announce dinner but was able to reverse her frown when the argument was avoided. Eagerly, she indicated to the gentlemen where to be seated then motioned her daughters to their respective chairs.

Darcy owed a debt of gratitude to the conventions of society. Although he was not seated beside Elizabeth, that privilege awarded to his friend who was doubly fortunate to be facing Miss Bennet across the table, he did find Mrs. Bennet’s conversation to be superior to that of her youngest offspring, at her other side and opposite Darcy. With the addition of Bingley the number of diners was uneven, lending a feeling of lopsidedness to the seating. Still Darcy found no reason to object, for he was the recipient of more elbow room while they dined.

The unceasing questions from his hostess, who did not wait for more than a monosyllabic answer, kept his mind from dwelling too heavily on what he was missing at the other end of the table. He was mindful of Elizabeth’s earlier warning; that her mother had set her hopes on attracting him to one of the younger Bennets. It was an amusing thought, one he had to suppress in order to avoid laughing aloud. Miss Lydia’s obvious reluctance to engage him in any of her previously carefree behaviours was almost ludicrous to witness and tempted a mischievous spark in Darcy which only a stern self control kept from unleashing upon the unwilling young lady.

He was certain that Elizabeth would not find such a practice entertaining either. Under any other circumstances Darcy would have been appalled at the direction of his thoughts but in the case of Mrs. Bennet and her ridiculous aspirations, or it might have been the recent influence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he had begun contemplating behaving in ways which were previously very foreign to his nature.

Not that exchanging impromptu kisses with the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance was in any way distressing, considering it had culminated in the reward of her accepting his proposal of marriage. The more bizarre attractions, however, the allure of teasing Miss Lydia or Miss Catharine into believing his eye was turned toward them was looking more appealing by the minute.

Darcy shook his head to dispel the naughty thoughts.

“You do not like it?” Mrs. Bennet asked, not a little concerned with his opinion and staring at her plate accusingly. “I shall speak with the cook about it. I daresay her effort could have been better this evening.”

“I’m sorry. You mistake my meaning, Madam,” Darcy was quick to interject. He had no idea to what she was referring but neither did he have any complaints about what had been served. “I did not mean to convey an objection. Indeed, I have no objections at all. The selection is excellent and you have a fine cook, Mrs. Bennet.”

The lady positively melted in the glow of his praise. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You are too kind! Is he not the kindest of men, Lydia?” she said, turning to her daughter with the last.

“Mmmm,” the saucy girl replied, her mouth full.

Darcy hazarded a glance down the table toward Elizabeth but saw she was listening attentively to something her father was saying. He drew some reassurance in the fact that there would be a little time to spend with her again after the dinner’s conclusion. Mr. Bennet did not strike him as the sort to spend much time on port with his guests even if the ladies left them to that relative privacy. Darcy looked forward, instead, to being served coffee by Elizabeth’s own hands.

When Mrs. Bennet suddenly rose from her seat there was a startled flurry as the gentlemen scrambled to theirs. She led her brood from the room, waiting as they passed into the hallway, then awarded a final glance at her husband which communicated a message none of the remaining occupants could mistake. Satisfied that she was understood, Mrs. Bennet closed the door and stepped headlong into the loitering throng that was her daughters.

“Mr. Collins has returned!” they all cried.

Chapter Eleven

Posted on Sunday, 14 January 2007

Mr. Collins had not returned alone. Mrs. Bennet was stunned to discover her parlour overrun with gentlemen, most in red coats but one notably without. Some of the faces she managed to recognise in spite of her fluttering heart.

“My dear cousins,” said Mr. Collins, immediately stepping forward and into a deep bow. “Please forgive my impulsive act of charity in offering your warm hospitality to these men without first discussing it with you, but when I discovered them deep in the woods, without the hint of an idea which direction would lead them back to hearth and home, I could not in good conscience, as a man of the cloth and representative of our most divine Lord –.”

His speech was interrupted by an impatient cough from the only stranger in the room not in regimentals.

“Forgive me,” Mr. Collins hastily amended. “May I introduce Colonel Fitzwilliam, cousin of Mr. Darcy and nephew to my own noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Colonel Fitzwilliam, my cousins Mrs. Bennet and her daughters.”

The ladies curtseyed, the gentlemen bowed, Fitzwilliam slightly annoyed that the clergyman hadn’t seen fit to provide the young ladies’ names.

Mrs. Bennet lost no time in making use of their good fortune. “Jane, please inform Hill to prepare some more coffee, tea and cakes for our guests.”

The Colonel took note of the young lady called Jane as she turned to do as bid.

“I shall go with her,” said one of the other daughters, promptly following the first.

Fitzwilliam studied the remaining ones as their mother began quizzing him on the particulars of their misadventure. He was quite interested in that she appeared to be the only person surprised when he announced they had been searching for his cousin.

“Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed. “How could he be missing? He is this very moment in my own house!”

“Here?” Fitzwilliam cried.

“And here he has been since afternoon,” Mary solemnly declared.

The Colonel contained himself enough that his horror did not show, yet he felt it all the same. “Well, that is certainly a relief. I presume he had no idea how concerned many of us were with his disappearance.”

“I do believe he knows now. Mr. Bingley told us as much when he arrived,” sniffed Mary.

Yet he sent no word to ease our minds! After the first flash of anger, however, Fitzwilliam was more understanding. Of course, no message would have found its way to me, lost as we were during our search.

With surprising composure, Mrs. Bennet addressed her middle daughter. “Mary, please advise your father of our additional guests.”

Obediently, the young woman nodded and left the room. No sooner had one daughter gone out than the first two returned, informing their mother that the refreshments would be along shortly. This was the signal for Mrs. Bennet to seriously begin her work.

Mr. Bennet glanced about him in dismay. The decanter of his favoured port was nowhere to be seen. Of course, its relocation from the library could not have been overlooked due to the habit of the men lingering in the dining room after the ladies’ departure was not an established custom at Longbourn. It was far easier to place the blame on a lax servant, one so lax that it was useless to call him and see that oversight was corrected. He rose from the table.

“I shall be but a moment. Please excuse me.”

The door closed with a soft click and Bingley immediately came to life.

“You disappoint me, Darcy.”

His friend’s head swung around, the expression on his face bewildered. “I what?”

Bingley raved on, knowing time was limited. “In all the years I’ve known you I’ve always believed you to be above such petty devices, to be honourable, trustworthy, a defender of those weaker than yourself; never as a man who chooses to exploit others!”

“What the devil –!”

“But instead I find you compromising a young lady’s reputation and then preparing to escape all sense of duty by inventing some kind of excuse to run off to London!”

Shaking his head, Darcy nearly toppled his chair backwards while getting to his feet. “Tell me at one what you have heard,” he demanded, ready to defend Elizabeth’s reputation with every shred of his being.

“What I have heard? It’s more what I have seen, but that did not disturb me as long as you remained at Netherfield.” Bingley frowned, making an effort to keep his voice quiet. “When Fitzwilliam told me that you wrote to him, begging him to come and help free you from an entanglement before it was too late is when I became angry. Too late! What is that supposed to mean?”

“I said no such thing. As I told you before dinner, I merely asked him for some advice.” He paused, finally digesting the rest of Bingley’s words. “What do you mean it’s what you saw? What did you see?”

His friend shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “The evening of the ball at Netherfield... I left the ballroom intending to retrieve a book of poetry from the library. There was something I wished to show Miss Bennet, but when I pushed the door open I was dismayed to find the room was not empty, and the two occupants were... well, it was not difficult for me to recognise the man’s figure as you, Darcy. Nobody else has that cut of clothing in this neighbourhood. The lady, however, was in such a position that I could not identify her.”

“Then you do not know who she is?” Darcy relaxed enough to sit down once more.

“No, I do not, but that does not change my opinion one whit! To find you in an intimate posture with a lady, in my own house no less, you must believe was the greatest of shocks! The following day you declined to accompany me to London, despite having previously been very vocal in your dislike of the Hertfordshire neighbourhood, and I was very pleased that you had chosen to stay. It indicated to me a sense of respectability and commitment on your part.” Bingley suddenly huffed in annoyance. “Now I have to wonder if you simply wanted me out of the way so that you might further toy with this lady’s sensibilities.”

Darcy opened his mouth for a hot retort when the dining room door opened to admit a returning Mr. Bennet. He was examining the decanter of port as he spoke, and missed the quick shuffle of postures by the two younger gentlemen.

“I feared at first that there would not be enough in this bottle for all of us but I think it will do after all.” Three glasses were poured and Mr. Bennet raised his, observing the light as it played across the angles and protrusions on the crystal. “A tolerable character, you will find, but I think it tempting all the same.”

“Not as sweet as I prefer,” offered Bingley, “but a good selection, I agree.”

“Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Bennet eyed the young gentleman, tipping his glass toward him. “For a man of particular standards, I am sorry not to have anything in my house that would impress you. It is rare, indeed, to have such distinguished guests, as my wife would be the first to say.”

“I certainly mean no offense, sir, but you underestimate the value of your household.” The silent stares from his companions persuaded Darcy to add, “The port is very good.” He mumbled something else, too quietly for the others to understand.

In yet another remarkable example of engineered disruption, Bingley’s mouth opened and immediately closed again when a knock sounded on the door. Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes in resignation. He would much rather have preferred to get the obligatory drink out of the way so that he might release the hapless gentlemen into the care of his wife and daughters, then retire to his library in peace. It was not to be, however.

“Papa,”came the voice of his middle child as she opened the door wide enough to admit her head. “Mama would like you to know that we have some unanticipated guests. Oh, and Mr. Collins has returned.”
“Ah, the wanderer! I now have a great curiosity to hear him account for his absence. Who else has honoured us with their attendance, child?”

“There are several officers of the militia, including Lieutenant Wickham, and another gentleman who is a Colonel and was introduced as a cousin of Mr. Darcy.” Mary’s gaze flicked to the latter to see him start in surprise.

“Another cousin!” chortled Mr. Bennet. “It would be too much to hope he proves as interesting as my own.” His glass came down sharply on the tabletop. “Thank you, Mary. You may tell your mother we shall be along in a moment.”

Her head disappeared and the door closed silently. The three men were also silent, observing one another. Bingley’s expression was serious, contrasting his usually ebullient manner. Darcy, on the other hand, seemed enlivened by the information recently imparted and Mr. Bennet, alternately studying his younger companions, was growing impatient to see what other amusements awaited in the neighbouring room. He cleared his throat and announced, “Yes, I think it is time to join the ladies again.”

Bingley and Darcy both scrambled to their feet, then stood eyeing each other until their host led the way to the door. Mr. Bennet held it open, inwardly smiling at the bemused pair, eagerly anticipating a delightful hour to conclude the evening.

The heat was unbearable. Fitzwilliam cast an accusing look toward the fireplace only to see that the flames were quite low. There was something else to blame for his itching desire to open the cloth surrounding his throat. In a room full of ladies, however, the action would be completely inappropriate. The Colonel squirmed in his seat and brought his attention back to the centre of the company.

“....with only three to spare!" Boldly meeting his gaze, Mrs. Bennet queried her guest directly. “Have you any of your own, Colonel?”

“I beg your pardon?” He had no idea to what she was referring, having allowed his mind to wander. Suddenly realising what a dangerous practice that could be, Fitzwilliam changed his tactics. “What I meant is that a spare is a relative thing. How many does one really need?”

“How many?” Mrs. Bennet blinked, not comprehending the question. However, not wishing to appear ignorant of his meaning, she just as quickly answered herself. “It isn’t so much a need as a preference. I believe the general opinion is that more is better and I certainly agree.”

The room was full of puzzled expressions, none more confused than Fitzwilliam. Thankfully, his interrogation was put to an end when the girl named Mary returned. She gave a short nod in her mother’s direction to which Mrs. Bennet smiled in satisfaction.

“May I offer you more tea, Colonel?”

He looked into his empty cup, remembered how warm he was already, and wished there was some cold lemonade to drink instead. Better yet, a good stiff whisky would be very welcome! Politely, he declined the tea and was relieved to hear an intelligent question addressed to him.

“Colonel, what is the prospect of Napoleon being defeated, given the situation in Russia?”

He stared in amazement at the young lady. “Well, Miss Mary,” he said, settling eagerly into a subject he knew, “there are many factors that could influence the outcome, not the least of which is –.”

A sudden burst of laughter drowned out Fitzwilliam’s reply. He resisted the urge to turn around and show his annoyance. The young lady before him offered a resigned smile, apparently inured to the raucous behaviour of her siblings. Thoughtfully considering Miss Mary’s reaction, the Colonel wondered if he had been a little rash in his earlier judgement of his cousin’s infatuation.

Just as quickly he discarded that thought. What were the odds that two intelligent women could reside in this house?

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Sunday, 21 January 2007

If there was one thing he wanted more than anything else, it was to leave the room, the house and perhaps even the country. George Wickham stood next to the window on the outskirts of the parlour, hoping nobody else would notice him. It was inevitable that Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty should see him, but they were fortunately occupied with entertaining several of the other young officers and thus he had a few moments to compose his thoughts, to devise a way out of his predicament.

Darcy would be joining the party, no doubt about that. The last thing the young lieutenant wanted was to be face to face with Fitzwilliam Darcy in front of the fair ladies. Foolish as it was, he sought a means of escape, searching the nearby windows for an opening large enough to accommodate him. Luck was with him, for one of the apertures was in fact a doorway. Wickham’s fingers were on the handle just as the door to the parlour opened to admit the three gentlemen. In a flurry of movement, he turned the handle and pressed on the glass, rejoicing in the silent movement of the hinges and slipping out into the cold evening air. From the other side of the window he could see inside, noting in satisfaction that his exit had not been detected.

A marvellous exhibition soon unfolded. Wickham stepped further back into the darkness to prevent any of the light from spilling onto him and to increase his own field of vision. From his position in the bushes he witnessed the most amazing sight. Fitzwilliam Darcy was fixated on a point that seemed to coincide with the exact location of Miss Elizabeth. She, in turn, was staring almost shyly in his direction. There was a pause in the movement of everyone, as if time was standing still. Wickham resisted the temptation to shake his head and was rewarded with seeing the action resume. Bingley stepped forward to take Miss Bennet’s hand and offer a greeting as if they had not parted less than a half hour before. Mr. Bennet managed to find enough space to get by the two younger gentlemen so that he could take up his usual chair by the fire. He did not sit, however, but picked up a poker and began to stir the dying embers until healthy flames had been coaxed to life. Then he turned his attention toward the assembled crowd, stepping toward Colonel Fitzwilliam with a hand extended.

All of this Lieutenant Wickham observed, knowing he should retreat further, as far as the militia’s encampment at least, but too fascinated to tear himself away from the spectacle.

In the silence of the November evening, sounds from inside the house were easily conveyed to his ears. Voices raised above the normal pitch of conversation, for with so many present in the one room it necessitated speaking a little louder than normal if one wished others to hear. Thus Mr. Wickham easily understood the situation to which he was witness. The blubbering clergyman began reciting a Christmas sermon, of all things, for he could quite plainly hear the references to a donkey, Mary and God. The holiday was still many weeks away but he supposed it possible that Mr. Collins might need that much preparation and practice time in order to perfect his message. He was even more thankful that when they had encountered the man there was enough distance between them that the non-stop conversation was only a drone in his ears. If this was his usual style with which to regale his companions, his flock was to be pitied.

Moving stealthily along the border of the garden, Wickham shifted his focus to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was in an animated and emotional exchange with his cousin. Alarmed that he might be the subject of their discourse, he retreated even further away from the house, failing to see the bench behind him as he had no eyes in the back of his head. A most undignified display of gravitational discrepancy would have ended in mortal embarrassment were it not for the fortunate fact that nobody witnessed it.

Mr. Wickham remained prostrate upon the ground, his legs bent over the back of the bench and feet dangling uselessly while he listened to the continuing conversation inside the house, despite the ringing in his ears.

Mrs. Bennet was beside herself. So many opportunities! So much variety! Who should be paired up with whom? Mr. Bingley was obviously meant for Jane. Mr. Darcy’s match was not so easily determined. The man was positively unfathomable! First he seemed to be inclined toward a quiet sort of girl, much like Mary. During dinner his manners could not be faulted and he even appeared to enjoy the company. If only Lydia would expend some effort in drawing his attention! But no, she was diverted by the young officers who probably had fewer than two thousand pounds between them. They did look fine in their red coats, however. There was no denying that.

The importance in securing Mr. Collins, and thus Longbourn, had long ago been made clear. Mrs. Bennet refused to consider any alternative to what was already planned. She had gently directed the young man toward Lizzy and he had eagerly complied. All that remained was to ensure her stubborn daughter’s acceptance. To this end there was nothing to be done while the house was full of men. It was terribly inconvenient and even more vexing to have such a houseful at such a time! Ordinarily the officers would be most welcome but this evening they were very much in the way. Poor Mr. Bingley would be unable to press his suit. Mr. Collins, although not the most tactful of men, might also be discouraged. Mr. Darcy could hardly be expected to demonstrate an interest in Mary or Kitty or even Lydia with so many observers. The only pleasant aspect to the intrusion was the addition of Colonel Fitzwilliam to the mix. Now here was yet another candidate for one of her daughters... but which one? Who would be left?

Mrs. Bennet considered all the possible combinations. In fact, she stepped back, away from conversation, in order to more fully appreciate the picture presented. It was an eye-opening move. Parked at one end of the room she could see all of her girls arrayed amongst the guests and was surprised to note the partners each had chosen. Of course, there really was no surprise where Mr. Bingley was concerned. He had immediately and predictably gravitated toward Jane. Quite astonishingly, Mary was deep in discussion with the Colonel, a fact that befuddled her mother who could not imagine what topic of interest they might have in common. Kitty and Lydia had chosen to show off their sparkling natures within the circle of officers who had accompanied Colonel Fitzwilliam.

The most intriguing sight was that of Mr. Darcy who, contrary to usual practice, did not stand alone at the mantel, nor off to the side by a window, but had traversed the room with deliberation and purpose, to take up a position at Elizabeth’s elbow. Of all the daughters to whom she had given life, Mrs. Bennet did not expect her second to be of any interest whatsoever to a man the stature of Mr. Darcy. But oh, no no no no no! This simply would not do! She watched in horror as the good Mr. Collins began his approach and then seemed to literally shrivel before her eyes. His body practically folded in half in its effort to genuflect with all the dignity due the recipient of his gesture. Mr. Darcy, she thought, deserved no such consideration. Why, the best anyone could hope from him was to be viewed as tolerable! Lizzy’s expression was positively pleading, no doubt attempting to communicate to her cousin her immense desire to be separated from the company of that horrid man.

It was time for Mama to intervene.

“Lizzy, I’m sure the gentlemen would like some tea. Please be kind enough to oblige them.” Her pointed looks and indulgent smile were rewarded with a puzzled raise of eyebrows from her daughter, but Elizabeth nevertheless shrugged her shoulders and started in the direction of the tea cart. “Oh, Mr. Collins,”she added as if it were an afterthought, “would you mind helping her with the cups?”

Darcy looked suspiciously at the retreating clergyman, wary of his inclinations and equally wary of Mrs. Bennet’s motive in arranging to be alone with him. His gaze returned to the older woman to find her studying him closely.

“Mr. Darcy, I feel it is incumbent upon me, as a mother, to whisper a word of caution at this time. You see, Mr. Collins has a great deal of respect for you and has also expressed an interest in our Lizzy. As much as we are honoured and flattered by your kind attention to Lizzy this evening, I would assure you that it is not necessary for you to–.” She fell silent suddenly, unable to miss the way the gentleman’s expression grew alarmed and his eyes sought out the young lady’s form. Instantly she changed her tack. “It is not necessary for you to say anything to Mr. Collins directly. I will have a word with him in private and make sure that he stays out of your way.”

So great was Darcy’s relief that he hardly noticed what he said next. “It is not that I fear Mr. Collins’ efforts, madam, but that I would not like to see Elizabeth put in the position of having to hear an offer of marriage from another man, and thus be obliged to refuse him.”

Elizabeth, is it? Mrs. Bennet nearly squealed aloud in glee.

He finally turned to look at her and saw the excited light in her eyes. “Forgive my forwardness, Mrs. Bennet. It seems that lately I have been unable to mind my own tongue. I hope I have not given offense.”

With a tongue tied up in knots, she was capable of merely shaking her head, denying any and all offense, past or present. In dazed delight did Mrs. Bennet plot out her next move, for it was imperative that Mr. Collins be disabused of his desire and redirected without delay. Upon the return of Elizabeth and the gentleman in question, teacups in hand, the kind matron communicated a pressing need to consult with him upon a matter of great importance regarding windows and fireplaces. In spite of his hope to spend more time with Elizabeth, or perhaps it was with Mr. Darcy, he smiled politely and withdrew from the field, never knowing that a field had existed.

Having at least achieved the level of privacy that a roomful of people could afford, Darcy proceeded to make as clear as possible to his intended that his opinions had undergone no transformation in the short time they were separated. How silly he would have believed this thought when he was but a single man in possession of a fortune and most definitely not wanting a wife. How silly men in love behaved, he would have said, having witnessed his friend’s oddities all too often when mere infatuations had taken hold of Bingley’s senses. Thrust into the kaleidoscopic sensations of the emotion, however, Darcy no longer considered Bingley’s actions ridiculous. He did wonder how his own words and thoughts were perceived but since he rarely put stock in others’ opinions when they played no role in his own affairs, this thought was quickly pushed aside and admiration, up close, of the fair lady who had consented to be his lifetime mate took precedence.

“How lovely you look,” he whispered.

A soft blush immediately overspread her cheeks. “If this means you will not notice the unbecoming manners of my family then please continue to gaze upon me. I shall not scold you for impertinence.”

He could almost have laughed at that accusation. Impertinence! Imprudence, yes. Yet his imprudence had been rewarded most handsomely. “I must speak with your father soon.”

“Indeed you must,” breathed Elizabeth, forgetting just exactly where they were and how many people might be observing them.

“Darcy, what a fright you have given me!” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence had never been bothersome but his timing had often left much to be desired. “What on earth happened that your horse ended up running off without you?” He frowned at the young lady by his cousin’s side.

“It was a careless misjudgement on my part,” explained Darcy, moving a little closer to Elizabeth. “I was too far from Netherfield to return in good time.”

“Spoiling the hopes of the fair Miss Bingley, of course.” Fitzwilliam grinned. “She was in quite a state when I left Netherfield in search of you.”

“If I may say, it does not take much for Miss Bingley to work herself into a state,” Mary quietly said. “Different from Mama’s but easily provoked all the same.”

Her sister stared at this uncharacteristic public criticism. “Mary,” she said, taking her by the arm. “Perhaps the gentlemen would like a few moments to speak privately.” She hoped that Darcy would tell his cousin about their engagement as he appeared ready to burst with the news. It would be better than having him blurt it out in this roomful of gossips.

Mary was willing enough to be led away, leaving the Colonel to corner Darcy with more pressing questions. “Is this that lady you wrote to me about? Is she the one that has you beside yourself with doubt and confusion? I say you do know how to pick them, at least. She has a marvellously entertaining family.”

“But what do you think of Elizabeth?” eagerly enquired Darcy. His enthusiasm dismissed the sting of Fitzwilliam’s comments. “You have not yet engaged her in conversation. Her skill is unparalleled.”

“Oh come now, Darcy! You truly are blinded to everything sensible. Do you really suppose our family would accept this match? What about Georgiana?” He patted his coat. “She has even written a letter I am charged to give to you, begging you to see reason. Do you want to read it now, before you have done something that cannot be reversed?”

This piece of news aroused Darcy’s curiosity. He considered it hardly likely that his young sister would take him to task for anything, let alone voice her objections in a letter. His hand itched to take charge of the missive and see what she had to say, yet it was completely inappropriate to indulge in personal correspondence while a guest in another’s home. Georgiana’s words would have to wait. “We may speak of this once we return to Bingley’s home, Fitzwilliam. I will not have anything upset the ladies here this evening, nor disturb my own pleasant mood. You have no idea how wonderful a day I have had!”

The Colonel’s eyes made a complete circle in his head. “You have no idea how ominous that sounds to me! When can we leave so that I may persuade you of the absurdity of your behaviour?”

“You’ve not seen absurd until you have witnessed...” Darcy leaned closer, pitching his voice into the corner, “Mr. Collins rehearsing a marriage proposal.”

“What? Who?” Fitzwilliam followed the other man’s gaze which was directed toward the two ladies who had just left them. “Surely not!” Darcy’s solemn nod confirmed what he feared. “Well, he won’t be accepted.”

“Perhaps not.”

“By that you mean to have me believe that she would accept him!” The thought was not a comforting one.

“Put yourself in her position,” Darcy went on. “Weigh the positives versus the negatives and you may just say yes yourself.”

Laughter was not Fitzwilliam’s first reaction. “I am more firmly convinced that you are out of your wits, Darcy.”

The two young gentlemen moved away to join the others, just as another gentleman left his station behind where they had been standing. He had overheard a good portion of their discussion, ever since Darcy’s voice had been aimed in his direction. Had he intended to convey that information to the eavesdropping father? It was of little consequence, thought Mr. Bennet. If any of his daughters were foolish enough to accept the hand of one of the most ludicrous specimens of manhood then who was he to say no? Although his wife would be celebrating the union before the question left Mr. Collins’ lips, there was no doubt in Mr. Bennet’s mind that the woman who chose to marry his cousin must necessarily be a candidate for Bedlam; if not when she said yes then certainly not long after uttering her vows.

This line of thinking gave him a headache and rather than announce his complaint, and risk sounding like his spouse, he chose to make a stealthy retreat to his library where a glass of port would soothe his head as well as his palate.

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