Title

All rights reserved. No part of this book, cover or content may be reproduced in any form, or by electronic, mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews,- without permission in writing from the publisher, Martine Jane Roberts

All the characters and events described in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover designed by Martine Jane Roberts.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to lovers of JAFF all over the world. Without your passion for all things, Austen, writers such as myself would have no audience for our work.

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This novel is written in English UK. While some spelling, punctuation and grammar may vary to English US, they are correct for the version used.

This book is a stand-alone variation on the original Pride & Prejudice.

Chapter One

The Bennet family finally arrived home from the Netherfield Ball in the early hours of the morning. They collectively declared the ball was a great success, and professed to have enjoyed it immensely, with four of the five sisters being engaged for almost every dance. All except for Mary, who thought such frivolous activities were a waste of time. She preferred more sombre pastimes, like reading and practising on the pianoforte. Whether this was true, or she was just making excuses because no-one asked her to dance, none of them knew.

So, it was no surprise that the entire family, even Mr Bennet, had decided to forgo breakfast in favour of the warmth and comfort of their beds. Imagine their surprise, when midway through a light luncheon, Mrs Hill announced a caller was waiting in the parlour.

“If quite convenient,” Mrs Hill conveyed, “He would like to speak to the master in private.”

“Is it Mr Bingley?” Mrs Bennet, still a little queasy from her overindulgence the previous evening, quietly asked.

“It is not, ma’am,” said Mrs Hill, “it is that gentleman’s close friend, Mr Darcy.”

Mrs Bennet momentarily forgot the pounding in her head and demanded with a raised voice,

“Mr Darcy! What business can he have with you, Mr Bennet? He is too proud for my liking and danced with almost no-one last night. How I hate the very sight of him. Tell him to cool his heels until you have finished your plate, sir,” expelled Mrs Bennet, wishing she had not been quite so exuberant with her speech.

“Now, now my dear, it is the calling hour after all. Though I must confess, I am interested to know what Mr Darcy could want with a humble squire like me?” replied Mr Bennet as he tried to soothe his wife's ire.

Mr Bennet did not return to finish his food. So, it was to the small sitting room where the ladies usually passed their time, which he returned. He wore a very solemn expression and quickly ordered Jane to take her three younger siblings upstairs. Then, Mr Bennet raised his hand to silence his wife as she began to question his actions.

Turning to his favourite daughter, he said,

“Lizzy, my dear, Mr Darcy would like to speak to you; he is waiting for you in my study. Run along now, don’t keep him waiting,” he instructed.

Elizabeth was confused. She could think of no reason why Mr Darcy would wish to speak to her. He was universally disliked by the whole family and only tolerated because he was Mr Bingley’s particular friend.

She tapped lightly on the door and then entered.

Mr Darcy, who was looking out of the window, now turned and offered her a slight bow. He motioned for her to take a seat, although he remained standing. His tall, muscular frame filled the small window, and only a few shafts of light escaped from around his silhouette.

“You are well after last night’s festivities, Miss Bennet?” he asked curtly.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” she replied, and then sat quietly waiting for him to continue.

“Miss Bennet, these last weeks since I arrived in Hertfordshire have seen my emotions thrown into turmoil,” he began. “I have experienced periods of great pleasure, and ones of confusion and self-reproach. And at the heart of all this is you, Miss Bennet. My heart is not easily touched, and, struggle as I might, I find that you have found a place in it. As I have confided to your father this morning, I am willing to overlook your inferior birth, your lack of fortune and lowly connections in the pursuit of my own happiness. Therefore, Miss Bennet, I would ask that you accept my hand in marriage and consent to be my wife,” he finished.

Elizabeth sat in stunned silence. Had he just asked her to marry him? Apparently so, if you could call being insulted an offer of marriage. Obviously, it was quite impossible. However, she was mindful of the honour he conferred upon her.

“I thank you, sir. I am conscious of the honour your offer would bestow on both my family and me, but I must decline.”

“Miss Bennet, you misunderstand me,” he said stoically, “My asking you is merely a formality. Your father has already approved the match, and we will be married here at Longbourn in one month.”

Elizabeth could not believe what she was hearing. Her father had given his consent, and without even talking to her first? No, it could not be.

“I am afraid there must have been some mistake sir. My father would not have approved such a match without seeking my opinion first.”

“I assure you, there is no mistake, Miss Bennet. I laid out my terms to your father, and he found them quite acceptable,” he informed her.

“Well, sir,” Elizabeth said defiantly “I am not inclined to accept your offer, and nothing could induce me to do so.”

Darcy studied her for a moment, not missing the defiant tilt of her chin. She was earnest in her rejection.

He pulled up a chair and sat before her.

“Miss Bennet, you are a dutiful daughter, I am sure, and will in time come to see the wisdom of your father’s decision,” he said in a slightly softer tone.

“You have many qualities that I admire in a woman. You are a gentlewoman of good breeding and from a respectable family. You have a keen mind and a sharp, but not unkind wit. You enjoy the outdoors, and though a little too tanned for society, you are a very handsome woman.” He paused briefly before adding, “And though you are not inclined to show it at present, I know you possess a kind and generous heart. These are all qualities that I would look for in my wife.”

Seeing her pursed lips, he concluded by saying,

“I am seven and twenty, Miss Bennet, an age when marriage is more appealing to me than the pursuits of a bachelor.”

By now, Elizabeth was furious and no longer tried to hide her ire. A fine speech, yet there had been no mention of love or affection. As she had sworn to marry for only the deepest kind of love, which clearly was not to be found here, she was firm in her resolve to refuse him. She folded her hands in her lap and raised her chin even higher.

Darcy could scarcely contain his smile. Her stubbornness was another quality he admired, but best not to encourage it just at this moment.

The upward turn of his lips made her angrier than ever. And now he is laughing at me. She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration as he enjoyed her predicament.

“I am sorry, Mr Darcy, but my answer stands. I cannot marry you. Now, if you will excuse me.” She stood to leave.

Exasperated by her continued refusal and dismissal of his heartfelt speech, Darcy also stood.

As she made her way to the door, he delivered his fait accompli,

“Miss Bennet, you are not one and twenty for four months. You will follow your father’s direction. And trust me, we will be married four weeks hence.”

Desperate to escape the room and ask her father if it was true, Elizabeth shot him a burning glare of defiance and then slammed out of the room.

Unfortunately, she bumped straight into Mr Collins, who gave her no time to make her excuses.

“My dear cousin, Elizabeth, how fortuitous that we should meet like this. I was just coming find you. Your mother has given me her blessing to seek a private interview with you,” he said in a nasal drawl.

Elizabeth, still in shock from her encounter with Mr Darcy, let herself be guided to the sitting room. It wasn’t until Mr Collins closed the door behind her that she understood the full meaning of his words. She was about to protest that his words would be in vain when he began his address.

“I have happily received the blessing of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, in my mission to find a wife. And more by design than luck, I have found her here, at Longbourn. You, my dear cousin Elizabeth, are the recipient of my love, which I can tell you has been building these past few days. I can honestly say, no other could fill that place in my heart, but you.”

Elizabeth was astonished to be receiving a second proposal, both of which were unwelcome. How ironic that her mother was concerned that none of her offspring would find a husband, yet here she was receiving her second proposal in one day. She looked at Mr Collins and felt a pang of pity. He was confident his position in life, elevated by the acquisition of his noble patroness, would bring him all he desired. In truth, he was only her puppet. Elizabeth knew she could never love or respect a man like that. She waited for him to conclude his speech and then replied in a conciliatory tone,

“Mr Collins, I am honoured that you would pick me to be your companion through life, but I am afraid I have just received and accepted another proposal.”

A white lie, she knew, but she did not want to give him hope where there was none.

His expression of anticipated acceptance changed to crestfallen rejection, and she gave him a weak smile as she moved to leave.

“Miss Elizabeth, might I ask who has beaten me to your heart?” he asked.

“Why, Mr Darcy,” she replied with a forced smile.

“Then, cousin, I am heartily sorry for you.”

Why would he feel sorry for her? She may not like it, but even Elizabeth could admit Mr Darcy was a highly eligible catch.

“The match is an elevation for you to be sure, my dear, but do not suppose that the likes of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, or Lord Matlock, will welcome you into the family. No, my dear cousin, a life of rejection and isolation lies before you.”

Ignoring his bitter words, she hurried from the room to find her father. She must demand that he rescind his consent before this went any further. He must see that she could not marry a man like Mr Darcy. Not only was he universally disliked in the town, but because of his despicable treatment of Mr Wickham.

When she reached the rear parlour, she flung the door open and scanned the room for her papa. But before she could utter a word, Mrs Bennet jumped up and took her into her arms, kissing her on both cheeks.

Elizabeth was taken by surprise, as this kind of outpouring of affection was usually reserved for Jane or Lydia.

“Oh, Lizzy, how clever you are to make Mr Darcy fall in love with you. And all the while we thought him indifferent. What fine things you shall have, carriages, servants, and plenty of pin money. And with your connections, you can introduce the girls to other rich men. But we must make haste with the preparations, for Mr Darcy was most insistent on you being married before Christmas. Oh, Lizzy, you have saved us all, has she not, Mr Bennet?” she gushed.

Mr Bennet was clearly irritated at his wife's outburst and hurried her out of the room so that he may talk to Elizabeth alone.

“Now, Lizzy, I know you are angry with me, but if you think about it, I am sure you will concede it is a good match. I am not getting any younger, as Mrs Bennet is so fond of reminding me, and if there is a chance I can ensure the wellbeing of my family before my demise, then I must act upon it. Besides, Mr Darcy is not a man you say no to.”

He took her by the hand and led her to the sofa.

“My dear, I know that we have made sport of Mr Darcy in the past, but he came to me with a sincere proposal. I believe it is a good one. I understand your reluctance, but to my knowledge, no other gentleman has made you an offer,” he said tenderly.

“But, Papa, I do not love him, and I am convinced he does not love me. I have seen how he looks at others he considers beneath him, including our family. Can we not wait and see if Mr Bingley makes an offer for Jane?” she pleaded. “I cannot marry him, Papa. Please don’t ask me to.”

Elizabeth was his favourite child, but he was disappointed that she had given no thought to the advantages her union with Mr Darcy would bring, and not only to her but to her entire family, especially her sisters. Their marriage would elevate the family to a level in society they could only dream of. Reluctant though he was, he could not deny them this opportunity.

“I am sorry you feel that way, Elizabeth, for it is all settled. We shook hands on it, and as a gentleman, I will not go back on my word.”

Her downturned mouth indicated her unhappiness at his statement.

“However, Mrs Bennet tells me your cousin intends to make you an offer this morning; surely Mr Darcy is a better prospect than the Parson?” joked Mr Bennet as he tried to lift her spirits.

Elizabeth offered only a weak smile in reply. It appeared she did have a choice in the matter after all. Either marry Mr Darcy or marry her cousin Collins. As it was impossible to even consider marrying Mr Collins, she must, therefore, try to look forward, and embrace the prospect of becoming Mrs Darcy.

Chapter Two

The next morning, Elizabeth waited impatiently while her sisters finished preparing for their trip to Meryton. It was only half a mile away, and they walked there quite often. However, today she was especially eager to depart. Elizabeth had no doubt that her father had given, Mr Darcy his blessing to call on her at his leisure. However, when he arrived, she intended to be out!

Eventually, all five sisters hurried out of the front door and set off down the lane. While Kitty and Lydia chatted gaily about soldiers and Mr Collins’s departure to Lucas Lodge, Mary wandered along with her nose in a book of sermons. Leaving Jane and Elizabeth to linger behind.

“So, is it settled, Lizzy, you will marry Mr Darcy on the eve of Christmas?” Jane asked.

“Yes, Jane, quite settled according to father and Mr Darcy. Mamma took me aside last evening to tell me how lucky I was to catch such man. Though the news of our engagement is not being announced for another week. Mr Darcy intends to return to town and inform his sister of our engagement in person,” she sighed.

“And I understand Mr Collins is to lodge with the Lucas’s until his return to Kent?”

“Yes, he told Papa he no longer felt obliged to marry one of us girls as our future was now secure. I think what he really meant was he wanted to escape before Mamma tried to foister one of our sisters onto him. Although I believe Mary would have been a much better choice for him than I.”

“Yes,” Jane agreed. “Do you expect to see Mr Wickham today?”

“It would be a welcome diversion if I did, although I have no plans to tell him about my engagement,” Elizabeth replied.

“So, you intend to continue your friendship with Mr Wickham, knowing how Mr Darcy feels about him? Is that wise, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth linked arms with Jane and whispered in a conspiratorial tone,

“I’m not married yet, Jane.”

Mary, Kitty and a reluctant Lydia waited for Jane and Elizabeth to join them, before making their way directly to the millinery shop. They passed a pleasant half hour choosing ribbons and feathers before Mary declared she was bored and left to visit the bookstore. Then, through the window, Lydia and Kitty spotted Colonel Foster and his new wife in the town square, and they hurried out to engage them in conversation. Elizabeth paid the milliner for Lydia’s ribbons and then walked with Jane to the street corner where they bought some hot chestnuts.

“How fortunate am I to find two beautiful rays of sunshine on such a grey day,” said a voice from behind them.

Spinning around, they greeted their admirer with warm smiles.

“Mr Wickham,” they said as they curtsied.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He swept his hat from his head and bowed low.

“And what brings you to town on such a dismal day, ladies? Surely the hearth at Longbourn would be more welcoming?”

“That is true, sir, but sometimes the inducement to venture outside outweighs the pleasure of remaining inside,” Elizabeth replied gaily.

“Then I too, am glad that you decided to walk this way,” he said, offering each lady an arm.

They walked along the main street exchanging pleasantries until suddenly they heard a most unladylike shriek from the vicinity of the town square.

“Wickham!” cried Lydia.

Elizabeth turned to bestow a glare of disapproval on her younger sister, and chastised her in a hushed tone

“Lydia, try to remember where you are.”

Elizabeth turned to Wickham and gave a weak smile, proclaiming,

“I find that the exuberance of younger siblings sometimes bubbles to the surface at the most inappropriate times.”

“Oh fie, Lizzy, no-one cares about such things anymore,” Lydia scoffed. “Besides, you were keeping Wickham all to yourself, isn’t that so, Kitty?”

Kitty raised her eyebrows but said nothing. From experience, she knew if she replied, either way, one of her sisters would be unhappy.

However, Lydia was insistent for an answer and pushed her further.

“Tell her Kitty; is it not as I have said?”

Kitty was about to convey her impartial reply when the clatter of horse’s hooves distracted her. The assembled group turned to watch the approaching carriage, a billowing cloud of dust testament to the speed it was going. Initially, it passed them by, then the driver abruptly pulled it to a halt, with such savage haste that the horses reared up on their hind legs, each snorting swirling clouds of steam from their nostrils as they pawed at the ground impatiently. The mud-splattered footman hopped down to open the door for his solitary passenger, but he was too slow. It was flung back with such force that it struck the carriage side with a resounding thud, and the occupant jumped down to the ground. With his great coat billowing out behind him, Darcy made short work of the distance between Elizabeth and him.

With a scowl of thunder on his brow and his chest heaving with the exertion of controlling his temper, he hissed,

“Take your hands-off Miss Elizabeth, Wickham.”

Jane, who had been advised by Mr Bingley about Darcy’s aversion to Wickham, watched as the latter visibly blanched at the arrival of Mr Darcy.

Quickly detaching Elizabeth’s hand from his arm, Wickham then took a small, yet significant step backwards.

“Elizabeth, come to me,” Darcy ordered in a guttural tone.

Oblivious that he had used her given name, Elizabeth was incensed that Darcy had ordered her to his side like a servant. His tone should have warned her that now was not the time to argue, but she just couldn’t help herself.

“I find I like the view from this side of the street much better thank you, sir,” she said defiantly and placed her hand back on Mr Wickham’s arm.

“Madam, I must insist that you get in the carriage and return to Longbourn with me,” Darcy demanded.

Emboldened by Elizabeth’s refusal, Wickham stepped forward.

“As expected, Darcy, the ladies prefer my company to yours,” he said with bravado.

“Stay out of this, Wickham,” Darcy growled.

“I’d love to, old man, but the lady has made her choice. So why don’t you just leave?” gloated Wickham, as he covering Elizabeth’s hand with his own.

In an instant, Darcy crossed the road that separated them and grabbed Wickham by the throat.

Although only a few inches taller than his opponent, Darcy dangled Wickham in the air like a rag doll.

“You are not fit to share the same air as gentlefolk, Wickham especially my intended. Now step away from Miss Elizabeth and stay away. Do you understand?” Darcy commanded.

Wickham began gasping for air as Darcy tightened his grip. He raised his hands and tried to loosen the vice that encompassed his throat, clawing at the fingers that were blocking his airway. In desperation, he nodded his acquiescence to Darcy’s demand, and after what seemed like an eternity, his attacker released him.

Wickham promptly fell to the floor in a pathetic heap, coughing and gasping for air.

Lydia quickly bent down to tend to Wickham, who accepted her ministrations with a feeble smile.

Elizabeth and the other bystanders stared in disbelief at what they had just witnessed. Outraged by his behaviour, Elizabeth opened her mouth to berate him, but before she could utter a single word, Darcy grabbed her by the elbow and propelled her towards the carriage door.

The waiting footman flipped down the steps and then stood well back as Darcy thrust Elizabeth into the carriage, then climbed in behind her.

With the footman only partially on board, the coachman cracked the whip, and the horses set off at a pace.

The air in the carriage was thick with anger.

Elizabeth felt humiliated by Darcy’s actions and mortified that Wickham had been so violently ill-treated at his hands. Not for the first time she seethed at the injustice of being a woman.

Darcy, on the other hands, was furious with Elizabeth for blatantly refusing his request to return to Longbourn with him. The result of which was his confrontation with Wickham. He tore his gaze from the window and glared at her.

She was perched on the edge of her seat, desperately trying to maintain an indignant air as the carriage jostled along the ruts in the road. As she swayed violently from side to side, his anger softened. Had not her sweet nature towards others been partly responsible for his attraction to her? She could not know that Wickham was ill-deserving of her attention.

As the carriage entered the wood flanked section of road, Darcy raised his cane and rapped on the carriage roof.

Hearing this signal, the driver pulled the horses to a halt.

Elizabeth, who was aware that Darcy was looking at her, stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she stared straight ahead.

Darcy watched her for a few seconds. This is going to be harder than I imagined. In Elizabeth’s eyes, his treatment of Wickham must have looked unprovoked and brutal, but he was sure once he explained she would understand his reasoning.

“Elizabeth, will you walk with me?” he asked.

Elizabeth ignored his entreaty.

With a weary sighing, Darcy said,

“The carriage will remain here until you agree to come with me, Elizabeth.”

She gave a derisory sniff and raised her chin even higher.

Darcy was unaccustomed to having his requests ignored.

“Very well, we will sit here, but be warned Elizabeth, I am a man of my word. If you refuse to walk with me now, we will remain here until you do.” Then he added, “All night if necessary.”

His last statement had the desired effect.

Elizabeth flung open the door, and before the poor footman could lower the steps, she had jumped down onto the forest floor.

Having won his point, Darcy followed her out of the carriage and then ordered the driver to wait at Longbourn for him.

Elizabeth, who knew the road intimately, set off at a swift pace.

Darcy increased his stride to keep up with her.

“Elizabeth, will you not wait and let me explain…?” he began, but Elizabeth was in no mood to listen.

She turned and let loose with a scathing reply.

“I have not given you permission to use my given name, sir. You will address me as Miss Bennet. You dare to call yourself a gentleman. What I see standing before me is a bully and an oaf. And after that disgusting display of barbarism, I cannot imagine you have any excuse to offer.”

Elizabeth turned and continued along the path.

This was a step too far for Darcy. Coming to terms with his offer of marriage was one thing, but insulting his integrity was quite another.

Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her to a halt.

Elizabeth twisted her hand this way and that as she tried to break free, but his grip was too firm. She was only succeeding in making her wrist hurt. Reluctantly, and with a petulant stamp of her foot, Elizabeth stopped struggling and stood still.

“That’s better,” Darcy said while maintaining his grip.

“Firstly, I was not about to offer an excuse, I do not need, nor do I intend, to make excuses for my behaviour. It was unfortunate that you witnessed my lapse in self-control, but one day you will understand why Wickham’s actions received such a response. I was merely going to explain that the bad blood between George Wickham and myself is deep-seated and personal, and not the result of a jealous tantrum on my part. He is not the gentleman he professes to be, Elizabeth. Secondly, I was disappointed that the prospect of spending time with me this morning caused you to flee your home.”

With no acknowledgement from Elizabeth, Darcy spoke sharper than he intended. “Very well, if you prefer that we spend no time together until we meet before the Altar, so be it.” His voice softened slightly as he added, “However, I had hoped that we could use these weeks to get to know one another.”

Elizabeth stared up at him.

“So, you are still determined to marry me, even after this morning’s fiasco?” she demanded.

“Nothing could induce me to break our engagement, Elizabeth, and I suggest you resign yourself to becoming my wife,” he told her soberly.

Elizabeth's shoulder slumped in resignation.

Seeing this, Darcy gauging she was no longer a flight risk and released her hand. By way of testing his theory, he walked over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down. When she did not immediately follow him, Darcy beckoned for her to come hither and sit with him.

With leaden steps, she obliged.

Darcy could not bear to see how sad and dejected her demeanour had become. Was the prospect of becoming his wife really so abhorrent to her?

“Elizabeth, I fear we have got off to a poor start. I thought after our time together at Netherfield that you held me in some regard, that you would welcome my proposal. I did not realise you despised me so vehemently,” he said sadly.

“Then you release me?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.

“No,” he said resolutely. “We will be married as planned, but I would like us to try to become better acquainted before we marry. I would ask that you at least give me a chance, Elizabeth.”

With Darcy being so honest regarding his intentions, Elizabeth also spoke freely.

“Forgive me, but I too must be candid. I do not despise you, Mr Darcy, but neither do I love you. When I nursed Jane at Netherfield, I thought we dealt very well together. I judged us as more than acquaintances, friends perhaps, but nothing more. And though you may believe it to be a childish fantasy, I had hoped to marry for love,” Elizabeth informed him bluntly.

“A marriage such as your parent’s perhaps?” Darcy retorted, then instantly regretted it.

“Their marriage is of a peculiar kind I admit, but it has been a long and happy one,” Elizabeth said in defence of her parents. “Can you guarantee ours would be filled with such affection, and of long duration?”

Darcy knew, in all honesty, he could not.

During the ensuing silence, Elizabeth appreciated that if she had just remained at home this morning to receive Mr Darcy when he had called, the event in town would never have occurred. Therefore, she too must accept some of the responsibility for what happened to Mr Wickham. By running away, Elizabeth had in effect thrown the two men together in what appeared, for them both, an intolerable situation. In hindsight, it was childish to think she could avoid spending time with Mr Darcy. If she wanted to be treated as an adult, then she must act like one. With that realisation came another; with her father’s blessing and consent already given, Mr Darcy would become her husband in four weeks’ time.

As she sat silently staring at the ground, she recalled a time when her opinion of Mr Darcy was quite different to the view she now held.

During those days confined at Netherfield while Jane recuperated from her illness, she had found Mr Darcy a charming, talkative and witty house guest. When dealing with Miss Bingley and her constant demands for his attention, Mr Darcy had shown a considerable amount of tact and patience. Also, his friendship with Mr Bingley was a credit to him. Befriending a gentleman whose background was in trade, even if he was now wealthy, was usually frowned upon. And although she had felt insulted by his comment at the Meryton Assembly, it was not until Mr Wickham confided to her his story of ill-treatment, that her resentment towards Mr Darcy had really grown. Sighing deeply, she decided under the circumstances Mr Darcy’s request was not an unreasonable one.

With a hint of resignation in her voice, Elizabeth said,

“Very well, I promise not run away again. You may call on me at your leisure if that is your wish.”

“Do I have your word on that, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked.

“Yes.”

“Very well then, and I promise I will explain all about Wickham once you have met my sister Georgiana. Now, let us make our way back to Longbourn. I am in dire need of some refreshment, and no doubt you are too.”

Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm.

She lightly placed her hand on his sleeve, and together they began the short journey back to Longbourn.

For some reason, Elizabeth felt that with every step she was leaving her carefree life further behind her.

While on the other hand, Darcy imagined his future stretching out before him and was eager to be on his way.

On their return to Longbourn, Mr Darcy said his farewell to Elizabeth and then stood talking to Mr Bennet for some time.

By their grave countenance, it was clear they were discussing the events of the morning.

Elizabeth felt vexed that they were out of earshot, but she waited until Mr Darcy had left before making her way to her father’s study.

“Well, Lizzy, it seems you are causing trouble for your future husband already, even before you are married,” Mr Bennet said sternly.

“Me, cause trouble for Mr Darcy? How so, sir? I only walked to Meryton with my sisters’. Did Mr Darcy tell you that he viciously attacked Mr Wickham in the street this morning, merely because he was with me?”

“Mr Darcy and I discussed the incident at length, Elizabeth. For reasons I am not at liberty to divulge, the militia are no longer welcome at Longbourn. Especially George Wickham! You girls are to have nothing more to do with him, is that understood? Now, gather your mother and sisters in the parlour, I want to make my feelings on this matter perfectly clear to you all.”

Elizabeth had not seen her father this incensed, about anything, in ages. Giving a small bob as her curtsy, Elizabeth hurried to find her mother and sisters without delay. Whatever had transpired between Mr Darcy and Wickham, her father apparently supported Mr Darcy.

Chapter Three

The morning after the Wickham incident, there were two callers at Longbourn. One was Mr Darcy, and the other was Charlotte Lucas. They both joined the Bennet ladies in the morning room, where they shared a pot of tea and some idle chit-chat. However, Mrs Bennet was bursting to talk about Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr Darcy, and continually tried to bring the conversation around to the subject.

Finally, she could hold her tongue no more and blurted out,

“I do so love a winter wedding, don’t you, Miss Lucas?”

Charlotte, who had come with news of her own, assumed Mrs Bennet knew of her engagement.

Relieved by Mrs Bennet’s happy tone, Charlotte asked,

“I gather you have heard my news then, Mrs Bennet?”

“News, about you Miss Lucas? I have heard nothing of the sort,” said Mrs Bennet, irritated that Charlotte had not asked her to expand on her own comment. However, on seeing Mr Darcy raise one eyebrow at her sharp tone, she continued in an appeasing tone,

“But if you have news to share, Miss Lucas, you may confide in us,” she then forced a smile to curl her lips.

Charlotte carefully put her cup and saucer down on the table. Mrs Bennet could be a formidable force when the mood took her, and Charlotte quite expected this to be one of those times.

Lowering her gaze, Charlotte looked down at her hands, and said,

“I am engaged to be married, Mrs Bennet.”

“You, engaged?” boomed Mrs Bennet. “Pray, who would want to marry you?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment at her mother’s harsh words, and she swiftly stepped in to defend her friend.

“Mamma, that is unkind. Charlotte has come to share her joy with us, and we should be happy for her. I am happy for her.” Elizabeth crossed the room and kissed her dearest friend on the cheek while offering her congratulations.

“Well, Lizzy, no one has offered for her these seven and twenty years, and I know of no gentlemen who would do so now!” Mrs Bennet declared.

She sensed that this would not be enough to appease her daughter. Turning back to Charlotte, she asked,

“Are we acquainted with the gentleman, Miss Lucas?”

Elizabeth’s continued look of disapproval forced Mrs Bennet to offer Charlotte her congratulations, all be it reluctantly.

“Oh, very well, I wish you joy, Miss Lucas. You may come and kiss me.”

Charlotte stayed in her seat. She was filled with trepidation at the thought of revealing the name of her groom.

Gathering all the courage she could muster, Charlotte quickly blurted out,

“As soon as he returns from Kent with Lady Catherine’s blessing, I am to marry Mr Collins.”

Charlotte had been wise to put her cup down, for Mrs Bennet’s response was worthy of an actress on the stage.

“You! To marry Mr Collins? To take my place as mistress of Longbourn! Impossible! I never heard of such a thing. Oh, my nerves, they are all of a flutter. My salts, girl, gets me my salts, quickly,” she shouted at Kitty.

Charlotte had witnessed many of Mrs Bennet’s fainting dramas over the years, but having been the cause of this one, she had no intention of staying until it concluded. Instead, Charlotte squeezed Elizabeth’s hand in silent farewell, and then slipped seamlessly out the garden doors. Thankfully, this went unnoticed by Mrs Bennet who was overcome with her own drama.

Elizabeth closed her eyes just long enough to draw in a deep, calming breath before turning to her mother and saying,

“You forget yourself, Mamma, we have another guest.” Elizabeth tossed a glance in the direction of Mr Darcy.

Darcy, who had watched the scene unfold with quiet amusement, decided it was time for him to rescue Elizabeth. Mrs Bennet could bemoan the fate of Longbourn to her others children.

“Miss Elizabeth, I believe you promised me a tour of the garden. I do not think it too cold at present. Would now be convenient?”

Elizabeth gratefully accepted his gallant offer.

“Now would be quite convenient, sir,” Elizabeth replied with thanks.

“Were you aware that Charles and Mr Hurst have escorted the ladies back to town?” Darcy asked as they walked out into the garden.

“No, I was not aware of that. I hope there is nothing amiss?”

“No, not that I am aware of. Miss Bingley made the decision shortly after I informed her of our engagement.”

For a few minutes, they strolled along in silence.

“I expect Miss Bingley was upset,” Elizabeth offered. There was no need to expand on this comment, for it was common knowledge that Caroline Bingley had set her cap at marrying Mr Darcy herself.

Darcy merely nodded in agreement.

They turned the corner to continue along the next path, but instead, bumped into Kitty and Lydia. The girls paused briefly, then burst out laughing before rushing past them.

Embarrassed again, Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

Had he truly considered all aspects of marrying her?

“Mr Darcy, you do realise that in marrying me, you gain all my relations. My sisters, my aunt and uncle who live in Cheapside, my uncle who is an attorney in Meryton, Mr Collins…?” Her voice trailed off.

Darcy smiled. He had expected her to use all means at her disposal to sway him from the path of matrimony. Nevertheless, Darcy had already considered all these elements before speaking to her father. He had concluded that Elizabeth’s less desirable relations were a small price to pay to call her his wife.

“My dear Elizabeth, from dawn until dusk you will find me the perfect host to any who chooses to come and visit us at Pemberley. Whether they are from Longbourn or Cheapside. However, once the door to our bedchamber is closed, and it is just you and I, for those few hours alone together, I will gladly endure all your relations, Elizabeth.”

At the mention of them sharing a room, Elizabeth felt her blushed return. It appeared he had thought of, and worked through, every scenario she could throw at him. Apparently, there was nothing she said could that would sway him from making her his wife.

With her cheeks afire, Elizabeth tried to hurry on, but Darcy would have none of it. He was enjoying their easy banter.

Taking her hand, Darcy placed it on his arm and slowed their pace to an amble.

“So, Miss Lucas has stolen your other beau?” he teased.

“Apparently so,” Elizabeth replied curtly, not wishing to be reminded of her cousins’ amorous feelings towards her.

“Where you aware Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my aunt?”

“Yes.”

Darcy was undeterred by her curt replies.

“I understand you enjoy walking in the mornings?”

“Yes.”

“Every morning, come rain or shine?”

“Most mornings,” she said, irritated by his continued barrage of questions.

“And do you ride, Elizabeth?”

“No, I do not,” she answered sharply. “I walk.”

She tried to pull her hand free from his arm, but Darcy had placed his hand over hers, enjoying the intimacy.

Her tugging on his sleeve was the final straw.

Darcy drew them to a halt and turned Elizabeth by the shoulders until she was facing him.

“Elizabeth, if we are to build any kind of relationship, you must make more of an effort. Alone, I can only do so much.”

“Mr Darcy,” she said, “may I speak freely?”

Darcy nodded his consent.

“I would have it no other way, Elizabeth.”

“You have the whole of London society to select your bride from, and yet you come to Meryton, a village of no consequence and choose me! Why?”

“Well, I must say when you do choose to speak, you come straight to the point.”

Brushing a hand through his dark wavy hair, Darcy smiled and took a moment to contemplate his response. Was it too soon to confess that his admiration had grown into love?

Yes, he feared it was.

“Well, I did not come to Meryton looking for a wife, Elizabeth. But once here, I soon discovered there were many things that I did like. Here, in your small town of no consequence, I found something no longer offered in the city. People here are refreshingly honest, hospitable and accommodating. Whereas in London, society has become tired and artificial. The men all follow Beau Brummel and act like dandies, while the women are only interested in catching a rich husband,” Darcy said as a matter of fact. “If these were the qualities I looked for in a wife, to give me sons and spend my money, then you are right, I could have picked any one of the season's debutantes to be my bride. But I want more.”

Darcy strode off, leaving Elizabeth standing alone and full of questions.

This new insight into Darcy’s character had caught her attention. What more did he expect in a wife?

“In what way, more?” Elizabeth asked as she hurried after him.

Darcy was pleased. His words had piqued her interest. His assumption that she was not only a beautiful and intelligent woman but also an inquisitive woman was correct. He understood he must woo her not only with compliments and flattery, but by engaging her on an intellectual level too.

“I am afraid we will have to continue our conversation another time,” he said as he looked over her shoulder, “I believe Mrs Bennet is trying to catch your attention.”

Elizabeth turned to look behind her. Her mother was frantically beckoning her to come hither.

Darcy, pleased with the progress they had made, made his bow and left for Netherfield.

Not for the first time, Elizabeth answered her mother’s call with a heavy heart.

Chapter Four

Elizabeth had spent a restless night. Darcy’s last words had sent her mind into a spin. She had tried to imagine what more he could want in a wife other than someone to provide him with an heir and to run his home. That was all most men would expect. But eventually she had fallen asleep, and her dreams, surprisingly, were full of images of Mr Darcy.

The next morning, after breakfast, Elizabeth pulled on her cloak and went out into the garden to wait for Mr Darcy. Unseasonably mild for the first day of December, Elizabeth admired the last few roses that still clung to the bushes. Indulging in a childhood pastime, she dragged her feet through the carpet of leaves, enjoying the rustling sound as she stirred them with her boots.

The walled garden was her favourite place to walk in the winter months. Unlike the rest of the estate which was pristine, this area was often neglected once the autumn months arrived. Perhaps that was why she liked it so much.

The clatter of hooves on the gravel drive drew her attention, and Elizabeth assumed it was Mr Darcy arriving. After several minutes had elapsed, and with still no sign of her betrothed, Elizabeth thought she must have been mistaken.

However, Elizabeth’s solitude was soon broken when Kitty came running down the path, frantically calling her name.

“You are to come at once, Lizzy,” she said breathlessly. “There is such a to-do in the house. Lady Catherine is demanding to see you.”

“Me?” Elizabeth questioned. “Why would Mr Darcy’s aunt come to see me?”

Together they hurried back to the house, but before she had even removed her cloak, Elizabeth heard raised voices.

“No, I do not want any tea, and I do not want to sit down. I want to speak to the hussy who has entrapped my nephew. Where is she? I will not leave until the matter is resolved to my complete satisfaction,” boomed Lady Catherine.

Elizabeth opened the door nervously. Standing with her back to her, was a middle-aged woman dressed from head to toe in black. All except for two burnt orange feathers attached to her hat which sat at a precarious angle on her head.

Realising someone had entered behind her, Lady Catherine spun around to confront them.

Finally, she came face to face with the woman who had dashed Anne’s chance of marrying her cousin Darcy. She eyed Elizabeth with contempt. Of average height and build, she was not unattractive.

Mr Bennet stepped forward to execute the introductions.

“Lady Catherine, may I present my daughter Eliz …”

“I know who she is, sir, and she can be in no doubt as to whom I am. Miss Bennet, a report of an alarming nature has been relayed to me by, Mr Collins. I have come to hear you declare it a falsehood to my face.”

Elizabeth mentally cursed her interfering cousin, who had obviously run straight to Lady Catherine with the news of her engagement.

“I am at a loss as to what you are referring to, Lady Catherine. Perhaps you could elaborate?”

Elizabeth’s words only fuelled Lady Catherine’s anger, and her voice rose to an even greater level.

“You know perfectly well to what I am referring, young lady. Do not toy with me. I am here to insist you refute the scandalous lie that you are engaged to my nephew, Darcy!”

“I am afraid she cannot do that, Aunt Catherine,” said a familiar voice.

All eyes turned toward the garden doors as Mr Darcy stepped through them and into the room.

During the stunned silence that followed, Mr Bennet took the opportunity to steer his family out of the room, all except for Elizabeth of course. He would have liked to stay and watch the impending showdown between Darcy and his aunt, but, on the other hand, he did not relish the prospect of having to join in the debate. Therefore, he also left.

“Explain yourself, Darcy,” said her ladyship sternly.

“It’s quite simple, Aunt. I asked Miss Bennet to marry me, and she has accepted.”

Darcy made his way to Elizabeth’s side.

“But you are engaged to Anne,” she expelled with indignation. “I admit the arrangement is of a peculiar nature, but it was the dearest wish of your mother as well as mine.”

“That is not true, as well you know Lady Catherine. My supposed engagement to Anne has grown out of your wish to see our two estates united, nothing more.”

“So, after all, we have been to you, you now abandon Anne with no prospect of marriage. You selfish, unfeeling boy! I am ashamed of you.”

Seeing her reproachful tactics had no effect, she softened her tone.

“But come, kiss me and tell me you have changed your mind, and we will say no more of it.”

“But I have not had a change of heart, Lady Catherine,” he replied.

Darcy never acted on impulse, and Lady Catherine knew this. Once he had made a decision, he could never be swayed from his course.

“Very well, if you go ahead with this ridiculous marriage, I will sever all contact with you,” she stated, then turned her back on the couple.

“I’m sorry you feel like that, Lady Catherine. I have enjoyed many stays at Rosings Park. But, regardless of your disapproval, I intend to marry Miss Bennet in three weeks time, and nothing you say will dissuade me or prevent it,” Darcy informed her sternly.

Lady Catherine looked thoughtful for a moment and then drew herself up to her full height.

“And is that your final word on the matter?”

“It is,” replied Darcy.

“Very well, then I know what must be done.” With that, she swept past them with a haughty sniff of contempt and out of the house.

Elizabeth and Darcy both let out a sigh of relief.

But soon a smile played on her lips.

She turned to him and said,

“It appears I am not the only one with relations who are lacking in the social graces.”

He gave her a sideways glance and returned her smiled.

“Apparently not!”

Elizabeth laughed at his open admission. It pleased her to see that he also had a sense of humour, for she dearly loved to laugh.

Darcy admired the effect laughing had on her fine eyes, and couldn’t help but laugh, too.

Elizabeth was now seeing Mr Darcy in a new light. It was the first time they had shared a joke, and the first time she had seen him laugh. His visage of a proud and unbending man had been transformed into a warm and happy one, and she liked it.

Most of the next day, Elizabeth spent with Mr Darcy, strolling in the garden or sitting talking in the parlour at Longbourn. They debated on a variety of subjects, and both were pleased that the other had a keen and articulate mind. Elizabeth was still hopeful that he would not force her into marriage, but as a person, he had grown in her estimation.

Then, just when everything seemed to be going so well, events took an unforeseen turn the next day.

Two days after Lady Catherine’s visit, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth were enjoying a quiet game of backgammon in the sitting room, when Lydia suddenly burst in.

“A gentleman is riding up the drive. I think it is that friend of yours, Mr Darcy.”

Immediately behind Lydia was Mrs Bennet. Once she had confirmed it was Mr Bingley who was arriving, she insisted that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy join her in the parlour.

Exchanging a puzzled look, they dutifully follow her. There was barely enough time for everyone to find a seat before Mrs Hill announced the arrival of a breathless, Mr Bingley.

Casting a glance in Jane’s direction, Elizabeth noticed that her cheeks were newly flushed, but it soon became apparent that it was not Jane he had come to see. It was Mr Darcy.

“Mrs Bennet, ladies.” He gave a brief bow. “Might I be permitted to speak to Mr Darcy for a moment? I will happily join you for tea afterwards?” he asked with a hint of desperation.

After a little huffing and puffing from Mrs Bennet, the ladies left the two gentlemen alone together.

“Darcy, I came as soon as I saw it. It’s not true, is it?” Bingley asked as he thrust the Times into Darcy’s hand.

Darcy scanned the folded page to see what Charles had found so upsetting. Finally, he came across the article that had caused his friend to seek him out with such haste. His face blanched. He clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared, as he attempted to contain his anger.

Bingley knew he had found the announcement.

“Gods teeth, I should have known she would do something like this. Is this the early edition, Charles?” Darcy asked with urgency.

“Yes…I think so. What are you going to do?”

“I’d like to strangle the blasted woman. Instead, I must ride to town and make the editor print a retraction. Do you return with me, Charles?”

“Err, I rather thought I would spend the rest of the day at Longbourn. I did promise the ladies I would take tea with them,” Bingley replied shyly.

Relieved to be going alone, Darcy quickly sought out Mrs Bennet and make his excuses, then cast Elizabeth a brief, but intense look of regret.

Although they had been apart for only a few days, Bingley’s heart ached with the loss of Jane’s company. He had already decided if Jane gave him the slightest encouragement he would ask her to be his wife.

Having re-joined the rest of the family, and after a suitable number of pleasantries had been exchanged, Bingley quietly drew Jane to one side.

While sitting next to his beloved Jane, her soft, gentle demeanour confirmed what he suspected. She did indeed, return his affection.

Charles lifted Jane’s hand to his lips, and her shy and loving smile emboldened him.

“Shall I go to your father, Jane?”

It was not the flowery proposal he had imagined when proposing to the woman he loved, but Jane understood him perfectly.

With lowered lashes and soft words, she gave her reply.

“Yes, Charles.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and then made his excuses, going directly to Mr Bennet’s study. At last, he could ask Mr Bennet for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

The moment the door closed behind Mr Bingley, Mrs Bennet rushed over to Jane’s side.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

Jane smiled broadly.

“He has gone to speak to Papa.”

“Oh, Jane, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing. Two daughters engaged! Who would have thought!” and she clapped her hands in delight.

Elizabeth had suspected a proposal was imminent and turned to smile warmly at Jane.

Elizabeth knew how much her sister loved and admired Mr Bingley, and he clearly loved her. No couple could be better matched than Charles Bingley and her dear sister, Jane.

Everyone was gathered in the drawing room and made ready to toast the happy couple. While the group waited for Mrs Hill to fetch the wine, Elizabeth returned to the parlour to pack away the unfinished game of backgammon. As she did so, she spotted the newspaper discarded by Darcy. Her curiosity piqued, Elizabeth picked it up and scanned the pages. Most of the names were unknown to her. Lady Matilda Berricksworth was to marry Lord Ernest Goodfellow, and Miss Petunia Lakeside had become engaged to the right honourable Mr Wilbur Brentwood. All very interesting but nothing exciting. Then, just as she was about to throw it in the bin, a name jumped out at her.

Prominently placed in a triple-edged box was this announcement.

Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, owner of the Pemberley Estate in Derbyshire

Is happy to announce his forthcoming marriage to,

Miss Anne de Bourgh, sole heir to the Rosings Estate in Kent

The couple will be married at Rosings in the New Year.

With the full blessing of the bride’s mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Chapter Five

Darcy arrived in the office of the Times editor just before they closed for the day.

The editor, a Mr Sinclair, happily welcomed him in, assuming he had come to express his pleasure at seeing the advertisement so prominently placed. What he was not expecting was to be on the receiving end of Darcy’s wrath.

“I want this taken out and a half-page retraction printed in the next edition and every edition for the following week!” Darcy said, slamming the office door and thrusting the paper into Sinclair’s chest.

“But, sir, we were instructed to run it for a month complete to ensure it was seen by all the right people. Are you displeased with the size perhaps? We can make it larger if you wish?” replied the poor man.

“It’s not the size, man, it’s the bride! I am not engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh and never have been,” Darcy shouted.

“But Lady Catherine assured me she had your full blessing to place the announcement, Mr Darcy,” Sinclair said as he tried to explain.

“Well, she did not, and neither do you. God's teeth, what a mess,” Darcy said as he slumped into a nearby chair.

Sinclair opened his desk drawer and retrieved a half bottle of whisky and two glasses. Filling them both with a generous measure of the amber liquid, he then offered one to Darcy.

As Darcy looked down at the contents of the glass, his forlorn expression conveying to his fellow drinker that his mood was one of dejection. With a weary sigh, Darcy swallowing the draught in a single gulp and then replaced the glass on the desk. This morning, his future had seemed settled and bright, but in one foul swoop, Lady Catherine had put everything in jeopardy. He should have known she would do something like this. She was no stranger to underhanded dealings, as many a trader could attest. But he never imagined she would stoop this low.

Suddenly, he slammed his fist on the desk and jumped to his feet.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You will re-run the announcement as originally planned, only I want you to enlarge it to a full half-page. In place of Miss de Bourgh’s information you with insert this; Miss Elizabeth Bennet of the Longbourn Estate. The wedding to take place on December 24th.”

“You are engaged to two women, sir?” the confused man asked shakily.

Darcy assured Mr Sinclair that he was no budding bigamist but declined to explain further. Known to be an intensely private person, Darcy would never reveal information about his family to anyone, least of all to a newspaper editor.

Now, though, he must return to Hertfordshire, where he had the unenviable task of explaining to Elizabeth why he had broken his promise, and the subsequent actions he had been forced to take.

Since yesterday, when Mr Bingley had proposed to Jane, Elizabeth felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Soon, all of London society will have seen the announcement in the Times, and Mr Darcy could hardly expect her to marry him now. Yet, her family’s future was still secure, thanks to Mr Bingley.

Happier than she had been for days, Elizabeth rose early and went for a long walk. She neared the boundary of the Netherfield estate and paused. It would be nice if Jane settled here.

At only three miles from Longbourn, it was an easy distance to walk. And if Charles invited some of his well-connected single friends to stay, perhaps her sisters might also find husbands. Goodness knows Lydia could benefit from the society of well-bred and well-connected young gentlemen, instead of being obsessing with the officers in the militia. And since her father had arranged a meeting with Colonel Forster, not one redcoat had been allowed near Longbourn.

Admiring the house that Jane would hopefully be mistress of, Elizabeth declared herself to be very happy that her sister was to marry Mr Bingley.

A gust of icy wind lifted her cloak, reminding her that she had a distance to walk before reaching home. Looked up at the sky, Elizabeth recognised the pink hue that stained the clouds. It was a sure sign that snow was on its way. Putting decorum and propriety second to her welfare, she lifted the hem of her dress and began to run.

Longbourn was in sight when Elizabeth saw the first few flakes flutter to the ground. Thankfully, she managed to slip in via Longbourn’s back door before it started to snow in earnest.

Hoping to avoid her mother, who would surely scold her for the muddy state of her clothes, she crept along the hall towards the stairs. Sadly, her aim of reaching her room undetected was not to be.

Mrs Bennet had already spied her.

“So, Lizzy, you have come back at last. Walk with me, I have something to show you.”

Dutifully, Elizabeth followed her mother into the parlour. On entering the room, Elizabeth saw that Jane had also been summoned to attend.

Scattered on the table was a litter of fashion magazines, probably borrowed from the dressmaker in Meryton.

“Look, Lizzy, they are full of all the latest fashion from town. See how they are wearing their sleeves, they are long.”

Elizabeth replied that it was no surprise they had switched from short sleeves to long; it was winter after all.

Jane glanced up at Elizabeth and shot her a sly smile, before returning her attention back to the magazines. Resigned to an hour or two of inspecting patterns, Elizabeth gave it her full attention. Until her engagement was officially broken, it would not hurt to humour her mother.

After they had exhausted every page of every book, Mrs Bennet declared herself in need of a nap, and promptly disappeared upstairs.

Elizabeth took advantage of this time alone to ask Jane about Mr Bingley’s proposal.

“Jane, you are glowing with happiness.”

Jane took Elizabeth’s hand in her own.

“Oh, Lizzy, I feel as though my heart will burst it is so full. Charles sent to London for this.” She held out her hand. There nestled on her third finger was a gold band, with a beautiful pale blue sapphire nestled in the centre.

“Charles gave it to me this morning while you were out. He said he chose it because it matched my eyes,” Jane gushed.

Elizabeth was truly happy that her sister had found love. Indeed, she had liked many a stupider person in the past. But Charles Bingley was just as affable as Jane, and they were a good match.

However, as Elizabeth admired Jane’s engagement gift, it made her realise that Mr Darcy had given her no such token of his regard. For the first time ever, Elizabeth looked at her sister and felt a pang of jealousy.

The Bennet family took their seats at the dining table, ready to enjoy a hearty supper when they heard a kerfuffle in the hallway. Before Mrs Hill could announce his arrival, Mr Darcy walked into the dining room. His greatcoat was splattered with mud, and a thick layer of snow covered his hat and shoulders. His cheeks glowed red, and beads of perspiration peppered his brow.

“Please excuse me for disturbing your meal, sir, ladies. I did not realise the lateness of the hour,” he said breathlessly.

“Nonsense, lad, you’ll soon be family. Lizzy, take Mr Darcy through to the drawing room, there’s a nice fire in there. Mrs Hill will bring you both a tray,” said Mr Bennet with a smile.

Obediently, Elizabeth did as she was told. Though it was clear when Mr Darcy handed Hill his great coat that it had not been enough to protect him from the elements during his journey. She offered him the chair nearest the fire.

“Mr Darcy, your clothes are wet through. Should you not have gone straight to Netherfield rather than stopping here?” she asked.

“Perhaps, but I wanted to show you this before anyone else did. I hope you will understand why it was necessary for me to take this action. It is not something I do lightly.” Darcy pulled out a damp looking newspaper from his jacket pocket.

It was a folded copy of the Times newspaper. Elizabeth needed no prompting and instantly turned to the announcement page. She read the revised version of Lady Catherine’s notice silently, she knew there would be no reprieve for her now. All of society would know of their engagement, if not from the paper directly, then from the gossip mongers. She refolded the broadsheet and handed it back to Mr Darcy. In truth, she did not feel the weight of disappointment she had expected to. Darcy’s actions had resolutely ensured their engagement stood. And although she should view it as the actions of a selfish man, she could not help but feel flattered that his desire to marry her was so strong. Either way, she was now irrevocably bound to marry him. Coming to terms with her fate was something she alone could remedy. Accepting that he had no other option but to announce their engagement was a good place to start.

Darcy waited for some form of reproach for his actions, but there was none. Instead, he noticed her lips curl into a smile. This, he decided, could only be interpreted as a good sign, but he stayed silent. Unwilling to interrupt the pleasant ambience they seemed to be sharing.

A moment later, Elizabeth’s smile turned into a full giggle.

Unable to fathom out what she found so amusing, Darcy finally asked,

“May I ask what you find so amusing?”

“Oh, it is nothing to do with the announcement, I assure you, although I understand I must now reconcile myself to the fact that we will be married. No, sir, the reason I’m laughing is that you are…smoking,” she replied, her smile broadening.

“Smoking?” he questioned.

“Well, steaming to be more precise, from your wet clothes,” she clarified.

Darcy looked down at his limbs. Quaffs of vapour swirled up from his sodden jacket and trousers, evaporating as they neared the flames. He quickly stood, intent on apologising for making the chair wet, but a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over him.

Raising a hand, he fumbled for the mantle shelf to steady himself.

Elizabeth watched as he swayed to and fro. His face was flushed scarlet, and beads of feverish sweat trickled down his temple.

Elizabeth instantly realised he was unwell, and there was clear evidence that he had caught a chill. She called out for help and then tried to coax him out of his wet outer garments.

“You must remove your jacket and waistcoat, sir, they are sodden. Come, your shirt will dry quicker if it is exposed directly to the fire.”

As a gentleman, it was unthinkable for Darcy to remove his coat in the company of a lady, let alone his waistcoat. He refused point blank.

By now, Darcy was ready to admit that he was feeling quite ill. After the frantic ride to London, coupled with very little food or sleep, then his exhausting journey back through driving snow, it seemed his body was on the brink of rebelling. Darcy tried to take his leave, but the room began to swim as he swayed to and fro. Mortified that Elizabeth should see him in such a state, he again tried to make his excuses.

“My apologies, madam, I find I am feeling a little under the weather. I must, therefore…” Darcy’s sentence was left unfinished as he slumped down into the chair unconscious.

Elizabeth ran to the door and again called for help, before taking her handkerchief and gently mopping at his brow.

Mrs Bennet immediately took charge. It was unthinkable for him to be moved back to Netherfield. His condition was far too serious for him to undertake such an arduous journey. Instead, she had Mr Hill carry the unconscious Darcy up to the guest room. She then ordered Mrs Hill to make plenty of chicken broth.

Lydia and Kitty squealed at the prospect of having a single gentleman stay at the house, and one that was more handsome than their dreary cousin, Mr Collins.

Mary was not so impressed. She merely conveyed her intention to pray for his speedy recovery and early removal.

Mr Bennet watched with an impassive, but amused air. He wanted to remind Mrs Bennet that only a few weeks ago she had sent Jane out in a storm with every intention of catching a chill. Indeed, she had declared that people don’t die of a common cold. Well, let’s hope Mr Darcy survives, he mused, as he despatched a servant to fetch the physician with as much alacrity as the storm would permit. He disliked guests who were not family staying in his home. They upset the routine of the house. More importantly, they upset his routine.

As soon as he was able, Mr Bennet disappeared back to his study and poured himself a large glass of port. No doubt they would call for him if he was needed. Meanwhile, he intended to enjoy the solitude.

Chapter Six

Mrs Bennet had been most insistent. Elizabeth was to sit with Mr Darcy, for some of each day, at least.

“Mrs Hill is far too busy to act as nursemaid to a grown man, while his fiancée sits wasting her time reading books,” Mrs Bennet had told Elizabeth.

So, for the past two days, Elizabeth had made her way upstairs straight after breakfast and sat at Mr Darcy’s bedside. Every half hour or so, she laid a freshly chilled cloth on his forehead in the hope that his fever would break. To while away the time, she worked on her sampler or read aloud. While downstairs she could hear Lydia and Kitty singing and dancing together, and Mary practised on the pianoforte. It had been a welcome distraction from the boredom, but it soon stopped when her mother had scolded them for making too much noise. The sound of Mrs Bennet voice could be heard ordering all three girls into the kitchen to help Mrs Hill. Kneading dough and chopping vegetables will leave you very little time for idle chatter, Mrs Bennet had told them.

In the quieter moments, Elizabeth studied her patient. How different he looked when in repose. Calm, and even a little vulnerable, with no hint of the indolent sneer which Darcy usually presented to the world in general. What a shame he was so proud and disagreeable when awake. If only he were more like Mr Bingley or Mr Wickham. She would probably already be half in love with him by now.

Picking up her recent purchase, a novel by a new author known only as ‘a Lady, she began to read.

“Elinor could sit it no longer. She almost ran out of the room, and as soon as the door was closed, burst into tears of joy, which at first she thought would never cease. Edward, who had till then, looked anywhere, rather than at her, saw her hurry away, and perhaps saw—or even heard, her emotion; for immediately afterwards he fell into a reverie, which no remarks, no inquiries, no affectionate address of Mrs Dashwood could penetrate, and at last, without saying a word, he quitted the room, and walked out towards the village—leaving the others in the greatest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his situation, so wonderful and so sudden;—a perplexity which they had no means of lessening but by their own conjectures.”

A low mumble that emanating from the bed drew her attention.

Darcy was saying something, but she was unable to decipher his words.

She leant closer.

“No more, Madam, I beg of you,” Darcy whispered hoarsely.

Elizabeth smiled; she had not expected after two days of delirium for his first words to be a request for her to stop reading!

She took the cloth from his head and placed her hand on it. Only warm, which was a good sign. It appeared his fever had finally broken.

Quite unexpectedly, as Elizabeth turned the cloth over to replace it, Darcy raised his arm and captured her hand in his. The shock of his touch sent a spark of lightning coursing through her nerves, making her catch her breath.

Elizabeth snatched her hand away and looked down at her patient.

Darcy’s eyes were wide open, and as their eyes made contact, Elizabeth felt as though his gaze was boring into her very soul.

Desperate to defuse the situation, Elizabeth scuttled to the door and called out for Mrs Hill to bring up a tray with some bread and broth. Turning back into the room, Elizabeth was relieved to see that Darcy's eyes were once again closed. Was it her imagination? Or had the surge of excitement that produced a tingling sensation to course its way through her body only happened in her mind? Had Darcy meant only to remove the cloth from his head, or had he intended to grasp her hand?

As Hill entered with the tray, Elizabeth tried to put it from her mind.

Giving herself a mental shake, she went back to Darcy’s bedside, roused him and cautiously helped him sit up.

Placing a cloth under his chin to catch any drips, she lifted a small spoon of the clear liquid broth to his lips and waited for him to oblige.

When he failed to open his mouth, Elizabeth said,

“You must open your mouth to take the broth, sir, even a little will suffice.”

“As appealing as your company is, Elizabeth, I am conscious that we are alone in a bedchamber. You must call a male servant to attend me,” Darcy whispered with as much authority as his weakened state would allow.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir. Apart from my father’s valet, there are no other indoor servants available, and I am sure Williams would deem spoon feeding you quite beneath him. It is me or no-one,” Elizabeth explained calmly.

She again raised the spoon to his lips.

Reluctantly, Darcy opened his mouth and took the broth.

Elizabeth struggled to curb her smile. Mr Darcy was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation, whereas she, on the other hand, found it quite amusing. However, she suspected that if even a hint of a smile escaped her, the proud Mr Darcy would refuse her assistance.

Elizabeth handed Darcy a small chunk of bread after every few spoons of soup. She watched mesmerised as he thoroughly chewed each morsel before swallowing it.

Not until the bowl was empty and every last piece of bread consumed, did Elizabeth handed him a small glass of diluted beer.

After just a few sips Darcy thrust the glass back at her, declaring it to be unfit for human consumption.

Again, Elizabeth hid her smile.

Having plumped up his pillows and seemingly attended to his immediate needs, Elizabeth picked up her book and again began to read.

Darcy gave a slight cough to gain her attention.

She looked up and raised her eyebrows.

“I do hope you have not caught the croup as well, Mr Darcy?” she teased.

“Miss Bennet, please do not think I am not happy to have your company but I would prefer a man’s company for a while.”

“I assure you, Mr Darcy, I am not at all uncomfortable or embarrassed at seeing you incapacitated. I have been at your side these past two days.”

But Darcy was in no mood to be refused or humoured.

“Miss Bennet, I don’t wish to appear indelicate, and Lord knows, I have tried to convey my meaning to you politely, but now I find I must speak even plainer. I need assistance from a male member of the household… quite urgently,” he insisted.

“Oh, I see…yes of course.” Elizabeth blushed crimson as the meaning of his words became clear. She quickly exited the room and summoned William to tend to Mr Darcy’s needs.

After almost an hour, Mr William returned downstairs and went directly to find Elizabeth.

“Mr Darcy asked me to inform you that he desires you to return to your nursing duties at your earliest convenience, Miss Elizabeth.” And with his message delivered, Mr Bennet’s valet returned to cleaning his master's boots.

Elizabeth could not help but feel a little self-conscious as she made her way back up to the guest room. She should have realised that after such an extended period of incapacity, he would need to attend to his toilette. Forcing him to ask for assistance was an embarrassment to them both.

Taking a deep breath before she knocked, Elizabeth then entered with a smile, half genuine, and half forced.

The first thing to strike her was that the room had a cooler, fresher feel. No longer stuffy and overburdened by the roaring fire. Apparently, Mr Darcy had elected to ignore the doctor’s advice about keeping the windows shut, as they were now flung wide open. The bed linen had been changed, and Darcy was wearing a clean nightshirt. His face was smooth and bristle-free, and his hair looked slightly damp. Only a single curl had dared to stray out of place and now hung down his forehead.

Elizabeth’s eyes were strangely drawn to this rich, dark coil.

Unaccustomed to such intense scrutiny, Darcy began to feel uncomfortable.

“Miss Elizabeth, I would like to offer you my sincere gratitude for your ministrations these past few days.”

Elizabeth was still mesmerised by the hanging ringlet. This single curl had changed his façade completely. It softened his features, making him appear a little less perfect and austere. Somehow, he seemed more approachable, more…human.

Only when Darcy called her name, did his words finally penetrated her reverie.

“Elizabeth, I said thank you for sitting with me. It may not have appeared that I was aware of your presence, but I was grateful for it anyway.”

“Truthfully, Mamma insisted upon it, but I was easily persuaded,” Elizabeth replied lightly, “My mother possesses a character that needs much attention. Occasionally I prefer to occupy myself with a less demanding pastime,” she said with a growing smile.

Darcy returned her smile.

Hoping to extend their comfortable exchange, he asked,

“Such as?”

“I enjoy walking or visiting my friends, especially Charlotte Lucas. When the weather is inclement, I might play chess or backgammon with Jane. And I read, a lot. Fortunately, Papa encourages reading, and on a variety of subjects, even some that others would deem inappropriate for a single young woman. Does that shock you, Mr Darcy?” she said with a glint of mischief in her eye.

Darcy smiled. Apparently, she was trying to shock him, yet it had done quite the opposite.

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. In fact, I am quite intrigued. I too read a great deal, and Pemberley boasts a comprehensive library. I hope it is something we can enjoy together, once we are married. I admire anyone who improves their mind with extensive reading. And as for walking, Pemberley has many pleasant paths to explore, appropriately accompanied of course. Perhaps we could find pleasure in doing these activities together?” he ventured to ask.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied, reluctant to admit she would soon be spending time at his ancestral home.

Aware that the conversation had taken an intimate turn, Elizabeth asked if he would like to play a game of chess or backgammon?

Darcy selected chess and revealed he always enjoyed a challenge.

It had taken dozens of moves and long moments of contemplation, but Elizabeth finally said,

“Checkmate, I think?” and she laughed gaily.

Darcy studied the board. He was indeed checkmated. How, when he had more pieces on the board than her, had she managed to manoeuvre his king into a corner? He could only surmise his attention was not wholly focused on the game.

With an inward laugh, Darcy compared his defeat in the game to the capture of his heart. Whether wittingly, or unwittingly, she had conquered him in both realms.

Savouring this intimate time together, he asked Elizabeth if she would consider a rematch.

She declined. And looked towards the door for her escape. The game had lasted two hours, and in that time, they had exchanged ideas on gardening and horses, and even shared a joke about the Prince Regent. She hadn’t realised it at first, but she had felt completely at ease in his company. Neither could she deny that she had enjoyed herself. Darcy was a worthy opponent, much more so than any of her siblings. It was only as the game neared its conclusion that she had felt panicked. She had not bargained on liking Mr Darcy.

“Mamma gave me strict instructions not to tire you, so I will leave you now,” she said, all the while moving towards her exit.

Darcy glanced at the door and instinctively knew she was planning to flee. But he had yet to tell her why he had broken his promise, and this might be his only opportunity to explain in private. He could not have her think him capricious.

“Elizabeth, before you leave, I must talk to you about the newspaper announcement. Will you not let me unburden myself?” he pleaded.

Facing him, Elizabeth remained at a distance but nodded her agreement.

“I came to talk to you about Aunt Catherine’s announcement, but my illness prevented it. You do understand that I could see no other way of deflating her brash attempt to force my hand? If there had been a moment for me to consult with you beforehand, I would have done so. But believe me, time was of the essence.”

Elizabeth had had two days to contemplate his actions and had also come to the same conclusion. Unless he intended to marry Anne De Bourgh, something needed to be done and done quickly. In Darcy’s eyes, changing the announcement was the only option available to him. Although it now trapped her in an unwelcome engagement, she did understand it was the rational thing for him to do.

“I cannot be happy about the situation, Mr Darcy, not yet anyway. But I understand the reasoning behind your actions. Though I am sure, Lady Catherine will not concede defeat so easily. She strikes me as the type of woman whom no one would dare cross!”

“You are quite right,” he agreed. “Her ladyship may act upon her threat and encourage others to ostracise us from society. Would that bother you excessively, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked quietly.

Elizabeth took only a moment to ponder his words. There were many shops to visit in London, and new plays and operas to see. However, there were only so many bonnets and gowns one needed, and while the theatre was often entertaining, it could also be exhausting and repetitive. Whenever she went to visit her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, she enjoyed herself immensely, but she was always glad to return to Longbourn and the country.

“The distractions in town can be diverting for a while, but I would not want to live there permanently. No, I do not believe it would bother me overly, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied honestly. “But I believe you have a younger sister; would that not hinder her prospects of making a good match?”

“I believe not,” he said. “The Darcy name carries as much, if not more consequence than that of de Bourgh. Perhaps when my uncle was alive, it would have been different, but Aunt Catherine is practically a recluse now and rarely ventures to town. No, I am convinced Georgiana will have more than enough suitors to choose from.”

Before they could discuss it further, a gentle tap on the door took their attention.

“Tis only I, Mrs Bennet. May I come in?” Mrs Bennet asked after she was halfway through the door.

“William said you were feeling much better, Mr Darcy, and that you had requested a carriage be made available to you later this morning? Surely you cannot be thinking of returning to Netherfield so soon! I distinctly remember the doctor saying plenty of rest,” she gushed without pause.

Darcy felt the colour rise to his neck as Mrs Bennet made her way to his bedside. As a gentleman of seven and twenty, he was not accustomed to having matronly ladies in his bedchamber. Indeed, the last female he had entertained in his room was considerably younger and there for quite another reason.

This thought only heightened his embarrassment, and the blush now rose to cover his cheeks.

“I assure you, madam, I am all but recovered. Your excellent care has guaranteed my speedy recovery, and while I am loathed to relinquish this most comfortable room, I fear that I must,” Darcy’s words tumbled out.

“Won’t you stay another day or two? Elizabeth is more than happy to read to you, is that not so, Lizzy?” Mrs Bennet raised her eyebrows and tossed her head in Elizabeth’s direction.

Elizabeth wanted to ignore her mother’s covert signal, instructing her to confirm her words, but Elizabeth knew if she did, there was every likelihood her mother would become even more obvious.

Giving an inward sigh, she replied,

“I am quite content to read to Mr Darcy for as long as he wishes, Mamma.”

“There, you see; Lizzy is happy to keep you company.”

“I thank you, Mrs Bennet, but I can trespass on your hospitality no longer. I will take my leave after lunch as planned,” Darcy said in a final tone.

Reluctantly, Mrs Bennet conceded that she was beaten, and accepted that he would indeed, be leaving after lunch.

Sitting in the carriage on the journey back to Netherfield, Darcy recalled the moment he had touched Elizabeth’s hand. He had raised his arm with every intention of capturing her hand. And when their finger’s had connected, Darcy had felt a jolt of pleasure course its way down to the pit of his stomach. The look on her face told him she had felt it too. Another time, he might have risked her wrath and pulled her into his arms, but it was not the right time, and definitely not the right place to act upon their undeniable attraction. Nevertheless, he felt satisfied with the progress they had made, and although Elizabeth was a long way from being in love with him, he suspected she no longer despised him.

Chapter Seven

Over the next few days, the Bennet household returned to normality much to Mr Bennet’s relief.

Mrs Bennet, on the other hand, made no secret of the fact that she was upset with Mr Darcy. He had not called to see Elizabeth once since the day of his departure. Indeed, she declared, it was all very nice that Mr Bingley called on Jane every day, but where was Mr Darcy?

“I blame you for his neglect, Elizabeth,” Mrs Bennet scolded. “I am sure you did not encourage him sufficiently. If you had, he would be at your side now, as Bingley is Janes.”

Elizabeth averted her face, turning to look out of the window instead. It had only been two days since Mr Darcy had left Longbourn. Hardly enough time for him to regain his strength, never mind venturing out in such inclement weather.

The biting wind had meant the snow had yet to thaw, although most of the main roads seemed passable. Mr Hill, who oversaw the running of the estate farm, was adamant there was worse to come. Elizabeth hoped not. Being cooped up inside made her restless.

After yet more reproofs from her Mamma, Elizabeth decided she had been scolded quite enough for one day. Smiling sweetly, she excused herself and went to join her sister in the parlour.

Lydia had been sent to sit with Jane and Mr Bingley, and under no circumstances was she to engage them in conversation. Mrs Bennet instructions had been quite specific. For propriety’s sake, they must have a chaperone, but in no way were the young lovers to be obstructed from getting acquainted.

Elizabeth entered with an easy smile on her lips, ready to relieve Lydia, but Jane immediately caught her attention and rolled her eyes skywards.

Looking at the three people present, Elizabeth was not surprised that the usually pleasant and forgiving Jane was feeling a little exasperated.

Jane and Charles were seated on the divan by the fire, the perfect spot for young lovers to speak quietly to one another. However, firmly entrenched between them, was Lydia. Either she was overzealous in guarding Jane’s virtue, or more likely, she had gotten bored and decided to make herself the centre of attention. Elizabeth suspected it was the latter.

Lydia thrust a garishly decorated bonnet under Mr Bingley’s nose.

“I purchased it some days ago. It’s hideous, I know, but I thought I might as well have it as not. Should I add some ribbons or feather? What do you say, Mr Bingley?”

“Err…I think it quite charming, Miss Lydia, but if you think it will benefit from a different coloured ribbon or a few feathers, then, by all means, change it. I am sure whatever you decide, it will turn out splendidly,” he replied congenially.

Elizabeth now understood Jane’s silent plea and set about extracting Lydia from the situation.

“Lydia, Mamma, is asking for you in the parlour,” Elizabeth informed her.

“But I am keeping Jane and Mr Bingley company,” she pouted

“I believe Mr Hill collected a new book of patterns when he was in town this morning,” Elizabeth added as a final inducement.

The temptation was too great, and Lydia hurried out of the room with a squeal of delight.

Elizabeth smiled, picked up her needlepoint, and then moved to sit in the window seat.

It was not long before Jane and Charles were exchanging tender words, coupled with shy glances of both love and affection.

The unwelcome pang of jealousy returned as Elizabeth overheard their conversation.

“Dear Jane, you grow lovelier every time I see you. If our children have your looks and sweet temperament, then I will feel truly blessed,” Bingley cooed.

“Oh Charles, I hope they have your happy disposition, though I fear neither of us has the temperament to scold them.” They laughed quietly together.

“I will never leave your side for more than a day, for to be gone any longer would be a punishment I could not bear,” he said with passion.

“You honour me with your devotion, Charles,” Jane replied modestly.

Elizabeth wished the room was bigger so she could put even more distance between herself and the lovers. Instead, she had to be content with turning further towards the window.

No man had ever spoken such tender endearments to her, and now she wondered if anyone ever would. Mr Collins’s proposal had been instigated by Lady Catherine’s desire for her Parson to be married so he might lead by example, not because he really loved her. Besides, she could never have tolerated marriage to such a weak man. And Mr Darcy’s proposal? Well, he had hinted that she had found a place in his heart, but it had been overshadowed by the insults that had followed.

Thrusting the needle into her embroidery, Elizabeth mentally chided herself. She must let go of this childish notion of marrying for love. For centuries, women had accepted arranged marriages; it was not unusual. Why should she expect more?

At that moment, a movement in the garden caught Elizabeth’s attention. Contrasting against the white snow, was a dark figure. They appeared to be making their way from the front of the house.

Elizabeth instantly recognised the Netherfield livery.

Hurrying to the parlour door, Elizabeth pulled it open. On the other side stood Mr Bennet. He was holding a letter, but Mrs Bennet was demanding to see it.

“You read too slow, Mr Bennet.”

Suddenly, up went a shout from Mrs Bennet, who pushed passed Elizabeth and hurried into the parlour.

“Oh thank goodness, we are saved. Lizzy, hurry upstairs and change into your pink dress. Get Cissy to dress your hair with my ruby pin, the one your father gave me, hurry now,” Mrs Bennet bellowed. Then, as if to make her point, she took hold of Elizabeth's hand and jostled her a few steps along the hallway.

Elizabeth, who could see no reason for changing out of her perfectly good day dress and turned to her mother.

“Why must I change Mamma? Who was the letter from?”

“It is from Mr Darcy, girl. He has invited you to dine at Netherfield Hall, tonight,” she said in an exasperated tone.

“Then you must write and decline, Mamma,” Elizabeth said.

“I will do no such thing; why should I do such a thing? Decline Mr Darcy’s kind invitation to dine? Indeed I will not!” stated Mrs Bennet firmly.

“You must see that I cannot go, Mamma, not alone. With Mr Bingley here, and his sisters in town it would be entirely inappropriate,” Elizabeth emphasised.

Mrs Bennet turned to Elizabeth with a look of annoyed frustration. Of course, Elizabeth was right; she could not dine alone with a single gentleman.

Not one to be thwarted, Mrs Bennet then declared with smug satisfaction,

“Jane will go with you.”

Jane protested.

“Mamma, I cannot! I have not been invited!”

Mr Bingley, who had so far watched this exchange in silence, seized the unexpected opportunity to see Jane away from Longbourn and all her relations.

“I would be most happy if you would both join Darcy and me for dinner. I will ride ahead and inform him you accept, Miss Elizabeth, and that Jane and I will also be joining you.”

Elizabeth did not need to look at her mother to know she wore an expression of smug self-satisfaction. At least she would have Jane with her.

As the carriage pulled up at the bottom of Netherfield steps, Mr Bingley, who was watching from the drawing-room window, rushed downstairs to greet his guests.

“Quick, man, open the door,” he said not unkindly to the approaching footman.

The man increased his speed and opened the door as the Bennet sisters reached the top step. Elizabeth waited to thank the coachman, then averted her gaze as Charles places a brief, yet tender kiss on Jane’s cheek,

Their cloaks and muffs were taken by the footman who then silently disappeared.

“Charles, do you intend to spend the entire evening in the entrance hall?” Darcy called.

Embarrassed by Darcy’s light-hearted scold, Mr Bingley’s cheeks turned a deeper than normal shade of red.

As they entered the drawing-room, Mr Darcy jumped out of his chair and got to his feet. With deliberate steps, he moved forward and greeted the ladies. It was evident he had yet to regain his full strength back, but Elizabeth thought how handsome he looked. Why had she never noticed this before?

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I hope you are well? Come, warm yourselves by the fire. I understand the air is close to freezing tonight.”

Jane and Elizabeth, whose fingers and toes were icy cold, moved towards the hearth, intent on taking full advantage of the blazing fire.

“Thank you, sir, we are both well. The weather does seem to be set for the night.” Jane replied.

“I hear we are in for more snow,” Mr Bingley offered.

Jane turned to Elizabeth with wide eyes as they both remembered their mother's parting words.

"Now, girls, if the weather remains inclement, and it appears likely to, do not put yourselves out by trying to return home, no indeed,” she cooed. “I am sure Mr Bingley will extend his hospitality for you to remain at Netherfield for the night, perhaps longer if we are lucky!”

“Mamma! With no other lady’s present, it would hardly be considered respectable,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“You will do as I desire, Lizzy. If you are offered a bed for the night, you will accept it,” Mrs Bennet insisted.

“Mamma,” Elizabeth chided, but Mrs Bennet was in no mood to argue.

“You will do as I say, Lizzy. Have you forgotten that your sister was so recently ill?”

“Then perhaps we should cancel? Would that not be the most sensible course of action?” Elizabeth said defiantly.

It was at this point that Jane found her voice.

“But, Lizzy, I want to go.”

And so, they went.

After supper, Jane took Elizabeth to one side and confided that she wanted to speak to Charles about their wedding privately. Elizabeth understood her meaning instantly, for Mrs Bennet had quite taken over all the arrangements for both of their weddings, leaving the brides with little to do but turn up.

Elizabeth returned Janes smile. The room was sufficiently large for them to talk privately without being unchaperoned. Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hand then returned to Mr Bingley’s side.

“You are uncommonly kind to your siblings, Elizabeth,” Darcy said from behind her.

“Sisterly love is a strong bond, sir. I understand from Miss Bingley that you hold your sister in the highest regard, too.”

“That is so, Miss Elizabeth. I have had to be a mother, father and brother to Georgiana. Sometimes, I find it difficult to know which role to adopt,” he answered honestly.

He looked down the room to where Charles and Jane were seated, their heads close together, and they appeared to be speaking tenderly to each other. Darcy felt a pang of envy. For now, he could only dream of such intimacy with Elizabeth. He wasn’t even sure she would call him her friend yet.

Turning back to Elizabeth, Darcy took her by the elbow and guided her to the other end of the room. They both sat in the window seat and watched the young lovers for a minute or two.

“Your sister has made a fortunate match,” Darcy said unguardedly.

“A fortunate match, you say?” Elizabeth replied prickly. “I say he is the fortunate one. Jane is the sweetest, kindest girl, and a much-loved sister.”

Darcy instantly knew he had transferred his thoughts into words very ill. It sounded as though he thought Jane should consider herself lucky to have caught Bingley’s interest, which was not what he intended to say at all.

“What I meant to say was how lucky for them to have found each other, a love match returned with equal passion. I meant no disrespect, Elizabeth.” Darcy said in a wistful tone, “I envy him, that’s all.”

Elizabeth watched as he went to stand before the fire again, his gaze firmly fixed on the dancing flames.

The strange fluttering experience around her heart took Elizabeth quite by surprise.

Chapter Eight

During dinner, a short, but heavy snow flurry had fallen. Having settled on the already frozen roads, it made the use of the carriage a treacherous prospect.

A footman entered the drawing room and placed a tray of coffee on the small side table, then exited as silently as he had arrived.

“I fear we must think about returning home, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said as she handed him a cup of sweet, black coffee. “Otherwise, the road may be completely impassable. Don’t you agree Jane?” she asked, turning to her sister for support.

With great reluctance, Jane tore her attention away from Charles Bingley and looked at her sister.

“Charles has offered us a room here for tonight, Lizzy. It would be much safer to attempt the journey in daylight rather than in darkness.”

The familiar cock of Elizabeth’s head forewarned Jane she was about to disagree.

“We must consider the servants and the horses, Lizzy.” Jane quickly added.

Elizabeth knew she could make no further objections without looking churlish and ungrateful.

She smiled at Mr Bingley.

“Thank you, Mr Bingley. Jane and I would be happy to take advantage of your kindness.”

Jane hurried over and gave Elizabeth a grateful hug, while Charles joined Darcy by the fire and shot him a sheepish grin.

Elizabeth linked arms with Jane and drew her out of earshot of the gentlemen.

“Goodness knows what we are to sleep in Jane. Did you think of that, or has mamma secreted our nightgowns in the carriage somewhere?” she concluded with a discreet chuckle.

“Oh, we need have no worries on that count, Lizzy. Mr Bingley has said we may borrow some of his sister’s things,” Jane said innocently.

“Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I am shocked that you have discussed our night apparel with Mr Bingley. I am sure we could have asked one of the maids instead.”

“Oh, Lizzy, I am almost two and twenty, and Charles is going to be my husband. Soon we will share far more than chatter about women’s undergarments,” Jane pointed out.

There was no denying Jane’s statement, so Elizabeth surrendered and returned her smile.

Each of the couples returned to sit near the fire, intending to finish their coffee, when a loud pounding on the front door startled them.

A man’s raised voice followed by a stream of cursing filtered through to the drawing room. Alarmed, Darcy and Bingley went out to investigate, while Jane and Elizabeth trailed nervously behind.

“Damn blizzard blowing out there, don’t you know. Your lazy servant took an age to open the door. Don’t just stand there gawping, man,” bellowed a familiar voice. “Take my hat and coat you, oaf!”

“What are you doing back here, Hurst, and I’ll thank you to not abuse my servants,” Bingley replied sharply.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve taken a fancy to one of your fillies,” Hurst replied, with a lewd wink.

Ignorant of the sisters’ presence, Hurst continued,

“Dashed handsome filly in your stables, Bingley, noticed her when I was last here. Your parlour maids are easy on the eye, too.” Hurst snorted at his own joke.

Aghast, Jane and Elizabeth took a step back.

“And your wife, Hurst. What about your wife?” Darcy asked in a cold tone.

“Louisa is as cold as the weather outside, Darcy,” Hurst retorted.

“How dare you refer to my sister in that disgusting manner! She’s not one of your theatre floozies, you know. She’s a lady of refinement and breeding,” Bingley replied in angry defence of Louisa. “Are you drunk, is that your excuse?”

Hurst realised he had overstepped the mark. Antagonising one’s brother-in-law was not a good idea when you had nowhere else to stay, and he quickly tried to make light of his remark.

“Well, a trifle over exaggerated maybe, but she follows Caroline around like a little lamb. It's damn inconvenient having three in one's marriage, what?”

Seeing icy glares from both Bingley and Darcy, Edward Hurst knew he had said too much.

“Now, Charles, I might have had a glass or two on my journey, but before you do anything rash, remember I have nowhere else to go. You must let me stay here, at least for tonight. Damn snow has made the roads almost impassable. I didn’t think we were going to make it this far.”

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of both Charles and Darcy, Hurst mumbled something about being starving and pointed towards the kitchen.

Charles reluctantly agreed to feed him and to let him stay the night, but only after he had instructed the butler to retire all but the oldest of the female servants. Charles had no intention of exposing the young village girls in his employ to Edward Hurst.

Charles and Darcy re-joined Jane and Elizabeth, closing the door behind them. Immediately, Mr Bingley offering his apologies for Hurst’s intrusion and unsavoury comments. Then, smiling shyly, he took Jane’s hand and drew her back to the divan they had shared earlier.

Although genuinely happy for her sister, Elizabeth felt the need to escape the atmosphere of sweet romance that seemed to fill the room.

“If we are to stay the night, would you mind if I selected a book before I retire?” she asked Mr Darcy.

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. You know your way to the library, I assume?”

Elizabeth confirmed she did and then made her way to that room.

Darcy looked at his friend. Happy and content to just be sharing a quiet moment with the woman he loved. How could he have ever thought of advising Bingley against marrying the sweet, and kind, Jane Bennet? Knowing that he intended to make an offer for Elizabeth, he was glad he had remained silent about his doubts regarding Jane’s attachment to Bingley. Clearly, they were very much in love and a perfect match for each other.

Suddenly suffocated by their love, Darcy could not bear to watch a moment longer as the young couple exchanged tender words.

“Charles there is something I need to do. Would you like me to call a maid to join you and Miss Bennet?” he asked.

“I am in no need of a maid, thank you, Mr Darcy,” replied Jane quietly.

Happy that he had done his duty by the young lady, Darcy made his way to the billiard room to take out his frustration on the balls.

Elizabeth had not meant to fall asleep in the library, she had only intended to rest her eyes for a moment, but the strain of reading by candlelight and the comforting warmth of the fire had made her eyelids feel heavy.

Through the haze of sleep, Elizabeth could feel a strange sensation on her leg. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but it was alien to her senses.

As the crawling feeling stretched up to her knee, she reached out to brush it away. When her hand encountered the object, she instantly recognised it as no insect or spider. Her eyes flew open in panic and immediately focused on her assailant.

The leering face of Edward Hurst, crimson and sweat covered, hovered only inches above hers. As he lunged down, his lips puckered and covered in saliva, Elizabeth screamed for all she was worth. As his mouth neared her face, the stench of stale alcohol invaded her nostrils, and she felt choking bile rise in her throat. Just in time, Elizabeth turned her face, only to feel Hurst’s lips make contact with her cheek. She raised her hands and began to pummel at his chest, all the while begging him to stop and calling for help. With his weight-bearing hand resting on her thigh, Hurst used his other hand to squeeze Elizabeth’s cheeks together, forming her lips in a bow. Seemingly oblivious to the blows her small fists were inflicting, he lowered his head for a second time.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and renewed her efforts with extra vigour.

Suddenly her fists were hitting thin air, and the weight of his body had gone. Gasping, she flung open her eyes, searching for her attacker. Then she spied Edward Hurst, who lay prostrate on the floor and now appeared to be unconscious. Next to Hurst’s body, reflecting the firelight in their shine, was a gleaming pair of black hessian boots.

Raising her eyes upwards, the identity of her rescuer was revealed. Mr Darcy, who now stood over Edward Hurst with his fists clenched and his legs akimbo.

Confident that Hurst was no longer a threat, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and knelt at her side. Immediately he pulled the hem of her dress down, covering the milky white flesh of her exposed thighs.

“Did he hurt you in any other way, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, his meaning clear.

“No, sir,” she replied quietly.

Darcy exhaled the breath he was unaware he had been holding while waiting for her reply. Turning to the decanter, Darcy poured Elizabeth a small glass of brandy, and then returned to sit by her side on the edge of the chaise.

“Drink this; it will lessen the shock,” he ordered.

Elizabeth dutifully swallowed the amber liquid and gave a hearty cough as it momentarily took her breath away.

Darcy refilled the glass and said, “Again.” When Elizabeth tried to protest that one draught was quite sufficient, Darcy insisted and tipped the end of the glass up, indicating he would broach no argument.

Elizabeth drained the glass a second time, and the burn in her throat intensified as the liquid coursed its way down.

“I have been a poor host to you and your sister this evening,” Darcy said. “I am heartily ashamed of myself.”

Elizabeth saw his pain and took pity on him.

“Sir, you are not responsible for Mr Hurst’s actions. I am unharmed and thanks to you, my… virtue is intact. Besides, I do not think Mr Hurst is entirely responsible for his actions. I fear alcohol was largely to blame.”

“You are too generous, Elizabeth. Tonight was supposed to be about us.” He seemed to pause for a moment, and as she watched and waited for him to continue, she noticed a pout appear on his face.

Darcy walked over to the desk and retrieved something from the drawer.

“I was going to present you with this,” he said and held out a black velvet box.

Elizabeth reached up and took the box from his outstretched hand. Slowly, she lifted the lid and peered inside. Two strings of small, evenly-sized round pearls stared back at her. Elizabeth lifted them from their bed of velvet and gasped at their beauty. Sixty, perfectly formed white orbs, each reflected the light of the fire.

“May I?” asked Darcy, as he took the pearl choker from her hands.

Elizabeth stood and turned slightly, allowing Darcy access to the back of her neck.

Her nearness affected his equilibrium, and Darcy fumbled over fastening the clasp.

With the task completed, Darcy leant close to her ear, and whispered,

“Wearing them will enhance their lustre.”

Darcy’s warm breath stirred the hairs at the nape of her neck, and her legs almost gave away. His romantic gesture had touched her heart, but his closeness had stirred something altogether deeper. This strange pulsing sensation seemed to flood her senses, invading her emotions and making her want to throw caution to the wind. Combined with the effects of the two brandies, Elizabeth began to experience a fuzzy warmth about her head. For some inexplicable reason, she had the urge to giggle. Her thoughts seemed to be in a muddle, and while she realised she ought to be hysterical with fear after her ordeal, she found her mind focusing on quite another subject.

Standing beside her was her exceedingly rich and excessively handsome fiance, who had just preserved her virtue and presented her with a beautiful gift.

At that moment, Elizabeth decided if she were to receive her very first kiss, she would much rather it be delivered by the attractive Mr Darcy, than the slobbering, unfaithful husband of another. Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, and she noted how full and pink his lips were, and happily, they appeared to be saliva free.

With the alcohol-induced euphoria making her feel bold, Elizabeth said,

“I am glad that Mr Hurst was not the man to deliver my first kiss,” she said coyly, “though I am disappointed that my lips remain chaste.”

Darcy had been around long enough to know an invitation when he heard one. He lowered his gaze to meet her eyes. There was no hint of fear or loathing. Instead, they were bright and inviting, and a playful smile danced on her lips. Darcy suspected that it was the drink making Elizabeth so brazen, but he had waited so long for any sign of encouragement or affection from her, he could not refuse what she now offered.

Cautiously he leant forward, and as Elizabeth closed her eyes, he brushed her lips with his own. It was a soft and gentle first kiss, full of love and tenderness on his part.

After the briefest of touches, Darcy pulled back and watched as Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open. He was both pleased and relieved to see the shy smile return to curl her lips. He had guessed correctly and tempted as he was to explore her mouth further, that was sufficient for her first time.

Elizabeth could not help but smile. He had read her invitation perfectly, and she had now known the touch of a man’s lips. It was a pleasant sensation and one that she would be happy to experience again.

Perhaps marriage to Mr Darcy would not be so objectionable after all.

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Elizabeth was roused from her slumber by a cacophony of noise coming from downstairs. She jumped out of bed with the intention of going to investigate but was instantly reminded of the alcohol she had drunk the evening before. The thumping in her temples was of the acutest kind and totally alien to her. Her experience of drinking strong liquor was absolutely zero. This had been her first taste of brandy, and if the consequences were a pounding headache and wanton behaviour, it would also be her last. The memory of how she had offered herself to Darcy only seemed to compound the thumping in her temples, and although Darcy had kissed her only once, Elizabeth was thankful that he was a gentleman and taken no further liberties.

Gingerly, she walked the few steps to her dresser and poured herself a glass of diluted small beer. After a few small sips, she put her glass down and then donned her robe and slippers.

Elizabeth opened her bedroom door and was met by Jane, who had also been disturbed by the noise from below.

Together, they crept along the hallway until they were in a position to see what all the fuss was about. Huddled together in the shadows, they observed the outburst from Louisa Hurst and her sister Caroline.

“I know he is here; I know he returned to Netherfield. He was stupid enough to tell the stable boy where he was going,” Louisa said shrilly. “Do not deny it, sir. I demand that you bring him to me at once.”

“Calm yourself, sister. Mr Darcy will see things right. Is that not so, Mr Darcy?” said Caroline Bingley.

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances. Apparently, Louisa Hurst had come in search of her wayward husband, and for moral support, she had brought her sister Caroline.

“Their coachman must be a skilled driver indeed to navigate the icy roads all the way from London,” Elizabeth whispered to Jane without averting her gaze from those gathering below.

“You are correct in your assumption, madam; your husband has indeed returned to Netherfield. However, it was not unexpected. Charles invited Hurst to join us for a day’s shooting. Your brother intends to donate several braces of pheasants to the local orphanage, and as you are aware, Miss Bingley, Mr Hurst is an excellent shot. With Hurst’s help, we could make short work of it. Is that not so, Charles?” Darcy said.

Telling a falsehood went against everything Darcy believed in and stood for, but he felt this was a unique situation. Hopefully, the truth could be revealed at a less fraught time.

“Quite so, Louisa. Hurst will shoot double the amount of either Darcy of me,” Charles replied nervously.

Darcy raised a single eyebrow at Charles’ statement but chose not to correct him on this occasion.

“The hour was late when your husband arrived, Mrs Hurst, and has yet to rise. However, you and your sister must have had an arduous journey, what with the recent snowfall. May I suggest that both you and Miss Bingley use the green bedchamber to refresh yourselves, and maybe rest a while? Perhaps then we can all meet for refreshments in an hour?” Darcy said kindly.

With only a sniff in acknowledgement of his offer, Louisa, followed closely by Caroline, swept up the stairs.

As they approached the top step, Jane and Elizabeth realised they had left it too late to hide and would momentarily be discovered by the Bingley sisters. With no choice but to reveal themselves, Elizabeth took Janes hand and stepped out from the shadows. They offered the Bingley sisters a modest curtsy but said nothing.

Louisa and Caroline stopped abruptly, startled to find two of their acquaintances in the hallway, in what appeared to be their night clothes.

Caroline ignored their salute while Louisa managed to acknowledge their presence with only the slightest inclination of her head.

Jane and Elizabeth watched as the sisters swept past them and on to the green room. When they heard the door close, Elizabeth clamped her hand over her mouth, as she attempted to stifle her amusement.

Jane smiled at Elizabeth, then pulled her back into the bedroom. They were both amazed at what they had just witnessed.

Jane spoke first, saying,

“It was generous of Mr Darcy to conceal the real purpose of Mr Hurst’s visit; do you not think Lizzy?

“Indeed, it was kind of him to spare Louisa’s feelings. But being deceived by one's husband is the worst kind of betrayal in my eyes,” Elizabeth replied.

“I understand Mr Hurst had been drinking before he arrived yesterday. Charles said it is not uncommon for him to drink to excess.”

“So, I gather. Mr Hurst was certainly more than just merry when he arrived here last night. And I understand he continued to drink for the rest of the evening.”

“How do you know that, Lizzy?”

It was at this point Elizabeth decided to reveal what had happened to her in the library.

As she had concluded her narration, Jane could not hide her shock.

“Oh, Lizzy, how awful. Thank goodness Mr Darcy was there to restrain him. Are you sure you are well?” she asked with concern.

“It was an unpleasant experience to be sure, but in one respect, it did bring Mr Darcy and me closer together.” Elizabeth smiled knowingly.

Darcy paced the breakfast room while he waited for Bingley to join him. He had spent a good part of the night deciding whether to take Charles into his confidence about the incident involving Hurst and Elizabeth, or not. He had concluded that as the host, and Hurst’s brother-in-law, he must be told.

Predictably, Charles was outraged.

“He must leave at once. I will no longer receive him, and Louisa must be a widow in all but name. Miss Elizabeth must think us contemptible. We have thought and acted superciliously from the moment we arrived in Meryton. Why, Miss Elizabeth has behaved with more dignity and decorum than all of us. I do not include you in this Darcy. You are, of course, above reproach.”

Darcy inclined his head in acknowledgement of Bingley’s compliment.

“Thank you, Charles. However, I cannot agree with you on Hurst. Last night, I would have run him through with my sword if it had been on hand, but I have since had time to reflect on the situation. I believe Mrs Hurst is capable of becoming a companionable woman, once removed from her sister’s influence. With the correct inducement, I believe Hurst could also be made to toe the line.”

Charles looked confused.

“How, Darcy?”

“If I were in your shoes, Charles, I would first remove Hurst’s line of credit. This would render him almost penniless, thus making him entirely dependent upon your charity. In effect, he will have no way of paying for his vices. For a man of his standing, it would be an untenable situation. Do you not agree?”

“I do, wholeheartedly, Darcy. But how is such a thing to be accomplished? We all know Hurst to be an unpleasant kind of man, but Louisa loves him.” Charles replied.

“Exactly so, without his wife at his side, he has nothing. Come let me tell you what I think.” Darcy put a hand on Charles’ shoulder and explained his idea.

When Edward Hurst finally entered the breakfast room, he was met by a united and unmovable front.

“Hurst, I need to speak to you,” Charles said in a severe tone, “I have been made aware of your deplorable conduct last evening regarding your vicious and unwelcomed attack on Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Therefore, I have decided that I am no longer willing to shield you from the consequences of your own actions. I have summoned the magistrate.”

Edward Hurst blanched when he heard this news, and with good reason.

A new law passed in 1803 meant the punishment for assault was severe. In truth, he could barely remember his transgression, or indeed, who had been the recipient of his unwelcome attention. Only his black eye and bruised face were a testament to the severity of his behaviour. Sadly, it was all a hazy alcohol-fuelled blur, but he knew that was no excuse.

“There is no need for that, Charles. I have learnt my lesson. I am mortified to have caused Miss Elizabeth...?” he questioned before continuing, “distress of any kind, and am willing to make full restitution for her suffering. Come, man, name your price,” he almost begged.

These last words infuriated Charles.

“Name my price?” Bingley shouted. “Name my price, you say. It would be me who was paying the price you fool, not you. Your pockets are all but empty, as well you know.” Taking a step closer, Charles continued, “Do you know your wife arrived here this morning baying for your blood?”

Hurst shook his head, but his expression conveyed his fear of Louisa being told of his actions.

Pausing, Charles looked towards Darcy, hoping he would now take over, as he was uncomfortable with confrontation of any sort. However, the barely visible shake of Darcy’s head conveyed to Charles that he alone must continue.

Charles pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and in a severe tone, said,

“If I cancel the magistrate, and I am not saying I will, but if I do, you have got to agree to my terms.”

Hurst nodded his head, willing to agree to anything, only to instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea hit him.

“Very well. First, you will retire from polite society until you can prove you can stay sober. To facilitate this, you will take up residence in Ramsgate. Mr Darcy has kindly offered you the use of his property there. My sister did not marry a drunken sot, but that is what you have become, Hurst, and it will not do.” Charles said, mimicking Darcy. “Secondly, you will quit all your other vices. No more gaming, or whoring, or any of the other unsavoury pastimes you indulge in at present. You have become a laughing stock of the Ton, and by association, that taints me, my sisters and even Darcy, which is insupportable. Finally, if you fail to reform, or lapse back into your contemptible ways, I will report this incident to the magistrate. Do you understand? Do you agree?” Charles asked curtly.

Hurst gulped; the conditions would be hard to comply with, but definitely preferable to having one’s neck stretched or deportation.

“How long would it be for?” Hurst finally ventured to ask.

“Until such times as you can prove you are again the man my sister married.”

Hurst nodded his acceptance. Charles’s terms were harsh but deserved.

“Very well, you will gather your wife and your belongings and leave for Ramsgate directly the ladies are abroad. In the meantime, you will stay in your rooms. I do not want Miss Bennet to have to look upon your face again. Darcy and I will extend your heartfelt apologies to her and her sister," Bingley concluded in a final and dismissive manner.

Again, Hurst nodded, but before he returned to his rooms, he begged to be allowed to partake of some breakfast.

Bingley, outraged by the man's audacity and eager to seek Darcy’s approval, told him he would have a tray sent to his room.

Unbeknown to Charles, Darcy had already acted to stop such a scenario occurring, taking it upon himself to instruct the butler to serve Elizabeth and Jane breakfast in their rooms. He also did not want the ladies bumping into Edward Hurst.

Once Hurst had gone, Darcy gave Bingley a reassuring nod. Having watched from the sidelines, determined not to interfere, Darcy mentally applauded his friend’s efforts. It was not worded quite as he would have put it, but it was a valiant attempt at being a strong and more independent man.

Chapter Ten

After Louisa had finished her breakfast, Charles asked her to come into the library that he might speak to her privately. He was not happy to see Caroline sweep in behind her.

“I want to speak to Louisa, privately, if you don’t mind, Caroline.”

“Oh, I do not mind, Charles, but I am sure Louisa will insist that I stay. Is that not so, sister?”

Louisa, dominated by her younger sister since they were small children, meekly nodded in the affirmative.

Frustrated by Caroline’s supercilious air, and bolstered by his confrontation with Edward Hurst, Charles took this opportunity to remind her of her situation.

“With my engagement to Jane Bennet and Darcy due to wed Miss Elizabeth in a few weeks, I would think you would turn your mind to finding yourself a husband, Caroline. I do not intend for you to live with Jane and me, and Louisa will be busy elsewhere. Might I suggest you take this opportunity to ask yourself why you are still unwed?”

Caroline, not one to usually be lost for words, stumbled over her reply.

“I thought…that is, I assumed…Mr Darcy…”

“Darcy is to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You must forget all hopes you had in that direction. If he were interested in you as a wife, he would have asked you before now. Now, I suggest while I talk to Louisa, you go and make yourself ready to return to the city. You may stay at my townhouse for now.”

Outraged at being dismissed in such a fashion, Caroline lifted her chin and flounced out of the room.

Charles, like Louisa, had always bowed down to the dominating personality of their youngest sister. It was only now, secure in the knowledge of Jane’s love and Darcy’s support, that he had found the strength and courage to stand his ground.

Turning his attention to Louisa, in a gentle tone, Charles told her of her husband’s exile, and the reasons behind it. Lastly, in a more positive voice, he outlined the changes he hoped to see in Hurst.

At first, Louisa shed a few tears, but she understood that sacrifices had to be made if she was to redeem the man she had married. She could not deny that she still loved Edward Hurst, but the size of her dowry had enabled him to partake in pleasures he had previously shunned. This could be a new beginning for them, and maybe, she could think of starting a family of her own.

Louisa kissed Charles on the cheek, before returning to the green room to soothe Caroline’s ire.

“I came to comfort you, sister,” Louisa said and offered Caroline, her hand.

“Comfort me?” Caroline questioned. “I need no comfort. I am not beaten yet, Louisa,” she replied dismissively.

Mrs Hurst recognised the determined tone in her sister’s voice and blanched. It boded ill when Caroline spoke so.

“You have no alternative but to accept Mr Darcy’s engagement, Caroline,” Louisa said.

“Do you think I am going to lose my chance to be mistress of Pemberley because of his infatuation with a nobody from the country? I have a plan that will rid me of that hoyden once and for all. And when I am through with her, Fitzwilliam Darcy will beg me to marry him,” she finished triumphantly.

Louisa, unlike her sister, understood Mr Darcy’s desire to marry a girl like Elizabeth Bennet. She was everything Caroline was not.

No longer happy to be Caroline’s puppet, Louisa tried to reason with her one last time.

“But it is all decided, Caroline. Can we not find in our hearts to be happy for them?”

Caroline rounded on her sister with a venom usually reserved for others,

“Happy! for that …harlot? What about me? I have waited years for Darcy to notice me. And now you think I should meekly step aside and wish them joy! Are you insane? No, we must put an end to Darcy’s infatuation once and for all, and in a way that makes him never want to see her again,” Caroline hissed.

Louisa’s fear of Caroline briefly resurfaced as she towered over her, but from somehow deep inside, she found the courage to say,

“I will keep your secret, Caroline, but I will not help you. I no longer want to court Charles’s or Mr Darcy’s disapproval. Besides, Edward and I are going away to make a fresh start of things.”

Caroline glared at her sister, her lips disappearing into a thin line of disgust. Then suddenly, with a wave of her hand, she turned her back on Louisa and dismissed her.

Later that day, Jane and Elizabeth returned to Longbourn, accompanied by both Charles and Mr Darcy. On their arrival, Mrs Bennet rushed out of the parlour to greet them.

“Oh, my dear Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, how grateful we are to you for keeping our dear girls safe last night. I trust they put you to no trouble?”

“No trouble at all, Mrs Bennet. It was a pleasure to have their company,” Mr Bingley said as he smiled down at Jane.

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who quickly raised her eyes and then lowered them again. He had taken her aside before leaving Netherfield and explained the steps they had taken with Mr Hurst. Thankfully, she not only approved but agreed there was no need to inform the magistrate. However, it was when he said he must also tell her father of the incident, that they disagreed. Only when Elizabeth pointed out that her father would feel honour bound to challenge Mr Hurst to a duel, did Darcy agreed not to inform him.

Mr Bennet was not a young man; the likely outcome of a contest would not be in his favour, Darcy told himself. For this reason, and this reason alone, he had agreed to her request. It and nothing to do with the way she looked at him as she beseeched him to remain silent.

“Mr Darcy,” called Mrs Bennet, “do come and sit by me. I want to hear all about your evening. What food was served? Did you dance? Or perhaps Lizzy played the pianoforte for you?” Mrs Bennet asked in quick succession as she led them back into the parlour.

Mr Bingley and Jane followed happily, as did Elizabeth, but Mr Darcy held back. The thought of answering a barrage of questions did not appeal to him.

Mr Bennet, who had no intention of joining the group, stood in the library doorway, looking on. Only too well did he understand Darcy’s reluctance to follow the ladies. So, taking pity on him, Mr Bennet reached out and gently tapped him on the shoulder, silently beckoning his future son-in-law to follow him.

Once they had entered Mr Bennet’s study, he quietly closed the door behind them before his wife could object.

“So, lad, you have brought my Jane and Lizzy back home, and none the worse for their adventure,” Mr Bennet said jovially.

Darcy gave a half-hearted laugh, unsure if it was an idle observation, or if Mr Bennet had somehow learnt of the previous evening's events.

“Quite so, sir,” Darcy said before clearing his throat. “Mr Bennet, I have come to ask your permission to take Miss Elizabeth to town for a week…or maybe two.”

Mr Bennet was in a good mood. The remaining girls, Mary, Kitty and Lydia had decided to ignore the snow and venture into Meryton for the first time in days. There was a quietness about the house that he had not experienced for some time. Only the occasional raised voice of Fanny Bennet broke the silence, and that he had learnt to ignore.

Consequently, his reply was of a playful nature and not meant cruelly.

“Well, make up your mind, man. Which is it to be, one week, two weeks or maybe only ten days? I only ask so that I might decrease the cook’s budget to save on Lizzy’s portion of the food,” he joked.

Darcy studied Mr Bennet. He was unsure if he was annoyed with him in earnest, or if he was making sport of him. If it was the latter, it was something he was unaccustomed to.

“Ten days, sir, if that would be quite convenient. I wish Elizabeth to meet my sister, Georgiana. She has just arrived in town from my estate in Derbyshire, and I would like them to become acquainted before the wedding,” Darcy explained nervously.

Mr Bennet, who had taken his usual seat behind his desk, looked thoughtful. He trusted Darcy implicitly and was willing to give his consent, but it was Elizabeth who must have the final say. If she were not inclined to go, then nothing would induce her to do so.

“Very well, Mr Darcy, you have my permission to take Elizabeth to London. However, we must let Elizabeth decide for herself if she wants to accompany you,” Mr Bennet cautioned him with a wag of his finger.

Darcy agreed. He already suspected nothing would induce Elizabeth to do something she did not want to. He recalled her refusal to dance with him not once, but twice before she finally accepted his invitation to the Netherfield Ball. Even when Sir William had tried to cajole her into accepting Darcy’s invitation at Lady Lucas’s soiree, she had stood fast in her refusal.

Darcy made his excuses and then hastened to find Elizabeth.

“You are alone, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, somewhat surprised to see her so.

She smiled and put her book to one side.

“Jane and Mr Bingley have gone for a turn around the garden, and Mamma decided to leave when you did not join us.”

Then, trying to find the right words, she slowly asked,

“I understand Mr and Mrs Hurst have already left the country?”

Darcy nodded, reluctant to revisit that topic of conversation. But, after a moment’s pause, Elizabeth continued,

“I cannot pretend to be sad at the fact, for although I was not looking forward to meeting Mr Hurst again, it was Louisa I did not want to face. How could I look her in the eye, knowing what her husband had done, and say nothing?”

Darcy took the seat next to her and took hold of her hand.

“My dear Elizabeth, your concern does you credit, but I think Louisa already has a good idea of the type of man she married. He will, I imagine, be absent from society for some months. By then we will be married and live at Pemberley.”

Elizabeth gave a weak smile. She hoped that his absence from society would indeed change Mr Hurst for the better. As Mr Bingley’s brother-in-law, once Jane and Charles were married, their paths would cross often. She did not want either of them to feel awkward when they met.

Determined to raise her spirits, Darcy decided now was the perfect time to ask if she would like to accompany him to town.

Taking only a moment to consider, Elizabeth gracefully accepted his offer.

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth loved her room at Airwhile House, Darcy’s Town residence. It was the biggest bedroom she had ever seen, dominated by an enormous four-poster bed in the centre of the chamber. With two sets of double windows that stretched almost from ceiling to floor, the room was awash with light. The matching drapes and bedspread had a base colour of cream and were covered with an array of summer flowers. With the bright colours and the warm fire that burned in the hearth, it was easy to forget they were in the midst of winter.

When they arrived late yesterday evening, Georgiana had been out with Mrs Annesley. So, Darcy had shown Elizabeth to her room and then arranged for a light meal to be brought to her. After her journey, he guessed she would like to retire early.

Elizabeth was grateful for the opportunity to rest. She could meet Miss Darcy tomorrow, refreshed and alert rather than travel weary and tired. Besides, meeting new people when food was involved could often be a mistake. Mr Collins had barely been at Longbourn an hour when they sat down to supper. Almost immediately a piece of green vegetable became lodged in his teeth, and due to his incessant talking and eating at the same time, it remained there for the entire meal. Lydia and Kitty burst out giggling every time he spoke, until finally, Elizabeth found it necessary to tap their legs with her foot under the table. Mr Bennet had tried to point it out to him after they had all retired to the drawing room, but Mr Collins had insisted on reading to them from Fordyce’s book of Sermons. And so, unbeknown to Mr Collins, he had been a source of amusement for the entire evening.

Sometime later, when Elizabeth went to kiss her papa goodnight, she teased him for not persevering in his effort to inform Mr Collins of his predicament, saying, ‘had he done so, they might all have been spared the last hour of sermons’.

Mr Bennet simply replied thus,

“It seemed rude to interrupt him once he had started, and when he had finished, it hardly seemed worth it.”

With one final look in the mirror to check her appearance, Elizabeth made her way downstairs for breakfast. She had slept well in the oversized bed and was now looking forward to meeting her young hostess.

Mr Darcy, who was waiting for her in the atrium, stepped forward and greeted her.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. You passed a comfortable night, I hope?”

Elizabeth assured him that she had, and together they entered the morning room.

Sitting with her hands folded in her lap, and her back held straight, was a young girl of about Lydia’s age. Her hair was golden and fell in ringlets at the nape of her neck. Her skin was clear and had a translucent glow, which together with her slender frame, gave her the appearance of delicacy

She rose, and with a shy smile, gave her curtsy.

“Miss Bennet, I am delighted to meet you. William has told me so much about you.”

Elizabeth smiled back and returned her salute.

“Thank you, Miss Darcy, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Unfortunately, Mr Darcy has told me very little about you, but I am sure we can remedy that.” Elizabeth joined Georgiana on the divan.

“I understand you like music, Miss Darcy; perhaps we could play together sometime?”

“Yes, I love to play the pianoforte, and I practise every day. William tells me that you also play very well, Miss Elizabeth. Shall we hear you tonight?” she asked.

Elizabeth cast Darcy an enquiring look, and in return, he raised his eyebrows in mock innocence and turned to face the hearth.

“I play quite well, but as with any instrument, practice is always the key to being considered accomplished. I fear in that area I am sorely lacking. Though I have heard, you described as a very accomplished young lady. But, in answer to your question, yes, I will play tonight, but only if you join me. That way, when I fudge my way through the piece, you can cover my mistakes,” Elizabeth said.

Georgiana smiled and nodded her agreement.

Breakfast was a brief, but convivial affair, with Elizabeth taking only toast and jam followed by a cup of hot tea. Then, Elizabeth and Georgiana spent the rest of the day getting to know each other.

First, Georgiana showed Elizabeth around the house. Then they chatted while doing some needlepoint. And when the subject turned to their families, Elizabeth explained the benefits and pitfalls of having four sisters. Georgiana, on the other hand, confided how she appreciated the sacrifices Darcy had made to bring her up alone.

Later that evening, when they had finished supper, they played a duet together on the pianoforte, at which Darcy clapped heartily. At the end of the evening, when she returned to her room, Elizabeth thought what a perfect day it had been. She had had no time to miss her family, and both Darcy and his sister had been excellent hosts. And, she had seen an entirely different side to Mr Darcy’s character. He had been charming and attentive to both his sister and her. So much so, she was convinced Darcy had let Georgiana win at Piquet. Indeed, he had smiled almost as much as the ladies. This was an entirely different man to the one she had first met at the Meryton Assembly. Not only did he seem more relaxed and content, but also unguarded. If this was his usual persona, it made the prospect of becoming Mrs Darcy less and less repulsive.

The next morning over breakfast, Georgiana asked Elizabeth if she would like to accompany her to the dressmakers. She had several new gowns on order and needed to have a final fitting.

Excited at the prospect of an outing, Elizabeth gratefully accepted.

They briefly stopped to look in the window before the cold drove them inside, where they were greeted by the proprietor, Madame Josephine Rollini.

“Mam’selle Darcy, how pink the weather has made your cheeks. Come, a glass of hot punch will warm you from the inside,” Madame Josephine said in a thick French accent.

Taking Georgiana by the hand, she guided her deeper into the shop until they approached a curtain. Georgiana glanced over her shoulder at Elizabeth, and before she disappeared from view, gave her an impish smile.

A moment later, Madame Rollini reappeared and approached Elizabeth with outstretched hands. She twirled Elizabeth’s around while making approving sounds as she did so.

“Yes… I think so…ah, parfait.”

Finally, when she had finished inspecting Elizabeth, she looked at her with a broad smile and said,

“It is wonderful to meet you; Miss Bennet, is it not? A figure like yours will do my clothes the justice they deserve.” Then she bent forward and quietly whispered,

“So many matrons and Mammas, they eat too much and walk too little, you understand my meaning Mam'selle?”

“Only too well, Madame Rollini.” Elizabeth laughed.

“Good, I have not offended you. Come, you too must have some punch, and we will celebrate, yes?” Linking her arm through Elizabeth’s, she guided her behind the curtain where they joined Georgiana.

Madame Rollini poured them all a generous glass of the warm ruby punch.

“What are we celebrating today, Madame Rollini?” Georgiana asked.

“My dear Miss Darcy, I am French, and at the moment we need no excuse to celebrate other than being alive, n'est-ce pas?” Then she raised her glass to her lips, shouted, “Salute,” and swallowed the entire contents in one go.

Elizabeth and Georgiana watched wide-eyed, then turned to look at each other. Neither of them had ever seen a woman drink in such a manner.

Madame Rollini laughed at their innocence and said, “Vite, vite.”

They hesitantly followed her example and drained their glasses.

Georgiana gave a cough as the warm liquid slid down her throat, while Elizabeth fought to control the spasm in her throat.

Madame Josephine looked at Georgiana with concern as she coughed and spluttered, but as Georgiana rallied, the three of them burst out laughing.

Having finished with Georgiana’s fitting, they bade Madame Josephine good day and turned to leave, only to find their path blocked by a striking, middle-aged woman who had just entered the shop.

“Georgiana! I saw your carriage outside, come, kiss your aunt. Is that brother of yours with you? He has not replied to my invitation yet, most discourteous,” she said as she waited for Miss Darcy to oblige.

Georgiana slipped past Elizabeth and Madame Rollini and made her way to stand before her aunt.

“Yes, Aunt Abigail,” she replied sweetly, and then leant forward and kissed the woman on the cheek.

The grey-haired lady gave a sniff of acceptance, smiled, and then turned her scrutiny on to Elizabeth. Georgiana, not wanting another scolding, made the introductions.

“Miss Bennet, may I introduce you to, Lady Abigail Matlock, my aunt. Aunt Abigail, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Fitzwilliam’s fiancée.”

Lady Matlock took a step closer to Elizabeth, raised her lorgnette and gave her a long, hard stare.

Elizabeth, who thought it was very rude of her ladyship to peer at her so, lifted her chin defiantly and stared back at her.

“Yes, I believe you will do very nicely for him. You have spunk, girl, I like that. That sickly wallflower Anne de Bourgh would never have done for a man like Darcy.”

Elizabeth was lost for words at this unusual form of compliment, and so merely bowed her head in silent acknowledgement.

“Miss Bennet, my annual winter ball is in two days, and I would not be unhappy to see you there. Ladies are woefully underrepresented this season so I can guarantee you will not lack for partners. As for their dancing skills, well, that I cannot vouch for,” Lady Matlock said, causing Georgiana to break out in a fit of the giggles.

Elizabeth did not laugh. Lady Matlock’s comment brought back memories of a time not so long ago when her fiancé had refused to ask her to dance.

“She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no humour to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

“Will you come, Miss Bennet?” asked her ladyship.

Although her manner had been abrupt, Elizabeth liked Lady Matlock, and as she dearly loved to dance, she accepted.

“I believe I shall, Lady Matlock.”

Georgiana squeezed her hand excitedly and said,

“Now William must come, too.”

Elizabeth suddenly realised that by accepting for herself, she had also committed Darcy to be her escort.

She bit her bottom lip as a wave of apprehension swept over her. Perhaps Darcy had purposely not accepted the invitation and had no intention of going to the ball.

As if reading her mind, Madame Rollini bent forward and whispered in her ear,

“Do not fret Mon ami. If I am not mistaken, Monsieur Darcy will use this opportunity to introduce you to society. He is a man, no? All men like a beautiful woman on their arm.”

Elizabeth gave her a weak smile in reply. There was no turning back now, not without losing face. Though how she was to tell Darcy, she had yet to fathom.

Chapter Twelve

The night of the ball arrived quickly, and Elizabeth felt a flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation. Darcy had laughed when she nervously told him that she had accepted his aunt’s invitation, but he quickly reassured her that he had always intended for them to go. Indeed, he was looking forward to the opportunity of introducing her to the Ton.

“Some of my friends have accused me of inventing you. A figment of my imagination, to ward off the husband-hunting Mammas and their daughters,” Darcy teased, then chucked her under her chin.

Elizabeth wished the butterflies would stop fluttering in her tummy. Georgiana had tried to give her the names of a few prominent people she should give consequence to, but everything seemed to have flown out of her head.

When they first arrived at Matlock House, Elizabeth felt as though all of London must be in attendance. The queue of people and carriages stretched in front of them. The horses quickly grew impatient and started to paw at the ground, causing the carriage to rock to and fro.

Once they had alighted from the carriage, a liveried footman told them to join a long line of guests waiting at the front entrance. The queue of people wound from the main doors, down the porch stairs and ended in the front driveway.

Unaccustomed to queuing of any kind, Darcy decided enough was enough when he saw Elizabeth and Georgiana huddling together as they tried to keep warm. Taking them both by the hand, Darcy made his way back along the line and then guided them to the side of the house. When their path appeared to be blocked by a pair of tall, ornate gates cast in iron, Darcy merely pushed a hidden catch and then watched as they swung open with ease. He guided the women up one flight of stone steps which in turn led them to a set of double French doors.

“Ready?” Darcy asked.

They looked at each other and then back at Darcy.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

As they entered the ballroom, Elizabeth gasped. She had never seen such splendour. She gazed around, taking in as much as she could, even though growing throng of guests were beginning to fill the room. Pale lemon divans with azure blue trim were placed strategically along the walls for the ladies to rest on. While high-backed wooden chairs were set out for the gentlemen. This latest trend was aimed at stopping the men lounging on the sofas all night, where they would take snuff and gamble, instead of dancing. There were a further three sets of double French doors, all of which boasted beautiful drapes of gold, held in place by navy blue sashes. The room was illuminated by hundreds of wax candles that cast a golden glow over the whole proceeding. The candles sat in dishes of lavender water, which filled the air with a heady scent. At the far end of the room was a minstrel’s gallery, where several musicians sat playing their instruments. Dozens of liveried footmen weaved their way between the thronging guests, offering them drinks and sweetmeats from their silver trays. The married ladies were bedecked in an array of boldly coloured gowns, with green and copper being the predominant shades, while the younger, unmarried women adhered to the tradition of wearing white or pastel shades. The men had also followed tradition. Every man was dressed in a black tailcoat and knee-length britches which were accompanied by the obligatory white shirt and necktie. The only concession allowed to them was the colour and pattern of their waistcoat.

Darcy smiled as he watched Elizabeth scan the room, her eyes wide with awe and excitement. Seeing her pleasure made his heart lunge with love.

“Darcy, you rogue,” came a call from close by.

“I suppose you came in via the side door as usual. Never mind, I already know the answer,” Lady Matlock said dismissively.

Darcy smiled and kissed his aunt in good humour.

“I did,” Darcy replied, “And as usual, you have left the welcoming of the guest to others?”

“Touché, Darcy,” she replied, then she turned her attention to Elizabeth.

“Do you approve Miss Bennet?” she asked Elizabeth.

“Very much so. I think there are few who would not,” Elizabeth replied honestly.

Her hostess smiled contently, ignoring the notion that there might be others who would not approve. She indicated for Elizabeth and Darcy to follow her, intent on introducing Elizabeth to Lord Matlock.

Georgiana watched them go and allowed herself a smile. It was clear Lady Matlock liked Elizabeth, which was a good sign. She was renowned for being a formidable opponent when the need arose, but all those who knew her intimately, also knew she possessed a kind and tender heart. Unlike her other aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose reputation was as a hard and dominating recluse, who browbeat her only child into submission in all areas. Georgiana gave an involuntary shudder as she recalled the latter. Lady Catherine doted on Darcy but found fault and scolded her at every opportunity. Only in Darcy presence did Lady Catherine treat her kindly.

Darcy was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. Large gatherings were usually tedious affairs, and he purposely avoided them. He could only put his euphoric state down to the presence of Elizabeth. He had taken a turn about the room with Elizabeth on his arm, introducing her to all he thought worthy. Not usually a vain man in any sense of the word, he found he relished the praise and congratulation they were receiving. His chest was puffed up with love and pride in equal measures. He could not remember a time he had felt happier.

Surprisingly, Elizabeth was also enjoying herself. Darcy was attentive and considerate, a side of him that was new to her. He had introduced her to several titled people who she knew by reputation but had never imagined she would meet. And for the first time, Elizabeth realised how high Darcy’s standing was in the community. He may not have a title, but his patronage was decidedly sought after and his friendship, highly regarded. Which again, made her wonder why he had chosen her as his future companion? Indeed, as she gazed around the room, many young women were standing with their Mamma’s, some far prettier than her.

As the musicians struck up the chords for “The Shrewsbury Lasses,” Darcy held out his hand, inviting her to join him on the dance floor.

“I remembered hearing you say this is your favourite dance,” he said with a broad smile.

Elizabeth felt the strange flutter in her chest again and returned his smile.

“It is,” she replied. “Did you ask them to play this for me?”

He smiled and nodded.

Again, she was struck by his thoughtfulness. That he had taken note of, and then remembered this was her favourite dance, astonished her. Every day she was surprised by something he said or some action he took, just to please her.

As the dance dictated, they came together, and he took her hand and gave her a slight bow, which he executed it beautifully. As they straightened, Darcy took the opportunity to catch Elizabeth’s eyes and grinned sheepishly at her, then he honoured the lady in green next to him with the same salute, but now his expression was one of complete decorum.

Elizabeth felt her heart lurch when their eyes met again as Darcy swept the lady in green down the line of dancers. For the first time, ever, her corsets seemed to be tied too tight for her to breathe. This combination was not an unpleasant feeling, quite the contrary, it was exceedingly nice. Could my closeness to Darcy be the cause of this agreeable sensation? Elizabeth craned her neck as she tried to follow his progress, and when she found him, she almost missed her step. With an apology to her partner, she decided to concentrate more on her own dancing. But, as Darcy reached the end of the line, Elizabeth couldn’t help but seek him out again. She watched as he made a turn, and then began to make his way back along the row of dancers. When her partner spun her around and bowed, Elizabeth only managed to bob a quick curtsy as she waited expectantly for Darcy to reclaim her hand. Reunited, Elizabeth bowed and skipped towards him and then back again, smiling broadly as he mirrored her steps.

Darcy’s dark eyes never stray far from Elizabeth. He wanted to memorise every second of their time together. Every step, every smile, every glance. Darcy knew that moments such as these were memories of the future, and he wanted to relish every one of them.

Sensing the intensity of Darcy’s gaze, Elizabeth began to feel a little light-headed, coupled with the strange sensation in her stomach, she wondered if it could be the glass of punch she had drunk. As she tried to rationalise the experience, Elizabeth knew one glass of punch could not affect her so much. She could only conclude; the effect was most certainly caused by her closeness to Mr Darcy. She had declared her dislike of him for months, so could her feelings have changed so materially in just a few days?

Finally, the dance concluded, and Darcy bestowed Elizabeth with another radiant smile.

“I don’t usually enjoy dancing, but that was more than pleasant. Perhaps I have been dancing with the wrong partners.”

Elizabeth smiled at his compliments and took his arm.

“Come, there is one more person I must introduce you to,” Darcy said.

They made their way to a group of men standing by the refreshment table. Darcy tapped the shoulder of the one in the scarlet uniform.

The soldier turned, and when he saw it was Darcy, he greeted him with enthusiasm.

“Darcy! It’s good to see you. How fair you? What are you doing here? You hate mother’s balls?”

Richard asked as he pumped Darcy’s hand in a vigorous handshake.

“I am well cousin, and you exaggerate my dislike for balls,” Darcy said with mock severity. “It’s usually only the people I dislike.” They both laughed heartily.

Then, turning to Elizabeth, Darcy made the formal introductions.

“Elizabeth, may I introduce my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. He is the younger son of our esteemed hostess. Richard, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my fiancée.”

In the second’s it took Elizabeth to lower her eyes and curtsy, Richards shot Darcy a look of disbelief.

Darcy nodded his confirmation.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” Richard said with all sincerity.

He raised her hand to his lips, bowed low, and then placed a brief kiss on her gloved fingers.

“If you are not engaged in the next set Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour?” he asked, eager to find out more about the woman who had captured Darcy’s, heart.

Elizabeth gracefully accepted, and they moved onto the dance floor, leaving Darcy standing alone on the perimeter.

Richard attempted to fill the silence as they waited for the music to begin.

“Do you live in town, Miss Bennet, or are you here at Darcy’s request?”

“Mr Darcy thought it pertinent that I meet his sister before we marry,” Elizabeth replied.

“And your family, where are they?”

“My parents and sisters remain in the country.”

“Is it far? Do you to visit town often?”

“Hertfordshire, sir, and no, I have only one relation who lives in town, so I visit rarely.”

“Hertfordshire is an easy distance, is it not? When do you return?” he persisted.

“I go home in a sennight, Colonel.”

The music started, and the rigours of the dance meant there was little chance for more conversation, much to Elizabeth’s relief. Although she enjoyed some talking during a dance, the colonel's relentless questioning was exhausting.

Richard, on the other hand, was intrigued by his partner and had much more he wanted to ask. Darcy had never mentioned meeting a woman, let alone one he was thinking of marrying.

The dance was quite strenuous, and when it ended, the colonel courteously offered to bring Elizabeth some refreshment, which she gratefully accepted.

As Elizabeth enjoyed a few gentle sips, Colonel Fitzwilliam took the opportunity to study her closely. She was pretty in an unconventional way, with her dark hair set to ringlets and her long eyelashes that gently rested on her cheeks when her gaze was downcast. Her skin bore a faint hint of the sun but appeared blemish free, and her simple, yet elegant gown was well suited to her stature and colouring. Richard was impressed with his cousin’s choice, and thought, if she was as smart and witty on the inside, as she was pleasing to look at on the outside, she might be a worthy match for the master of Pemberley.

“Colonel,” Elizabeth repeated.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bennet, you were saying?” he answered, embarrassed at being caught wool-gathering.

“I think I must return to Mr Darcy now,” she repeated quietly and offered him her empty glass.

Relieving her of her burden he said,

“Of course, Miss Bennet, but perhaps you will allow me to claim your hand for a second dance later?”

“You may, Colonel Fitzwilliam, thank you.”

Richard bowed and returned her to Darcy’s side, purposely ignoring the glare his cousin bestowed on him.

For the remainder of the evening, Darcy stayed close to Elizabeth’s side. As he had feared, Elizabeth was inundated with offers for every dance. Many of the gentlemen she took to the floor with, complimented her on her looks, her gown and her manners, but Darcy knew she would not be swayed by such insincere flattery. Instead, Elizabeth merely smiled politely and accepted their compliments with grace.

Darcy, on the other hand, danced with only Elizabeth and his sister. When not thus engaged, he prowled around the periphery of the dance floor, ensuring no liberties were taken with either of ‘his’ women. He had anticipated a certain degree of interest in his intended, after all, most of society was curious about the woman who had finally snared The Master of Pemberley, but it seemed both genders were focused solely on Elizabeth.

Therefore, when it was time to say goodnight, only Darcy was cheerful about leaving.

That night, as Elizabeth laid in bed, she tried to remember what had set her so against Mr Darcy in the first place. Tonight, he had been both attentive and charming, dancing four complete sets with her. They had conversed often and happily over the course of the evening. And at supper time, he had been devoted to her and affable with the other dinners. This Darcy was charismatic and personable, nothing like the man she had first met in Hertfordshire.

Her initial dislike of him had started when she overheard his cutting comment about her looks that first night at the Meryton assembly. Though, as far as she knew, Darcy was unaware that she had overheard his utterance. Besides, that was too trivial to hold against him now. Clearly, he had not meant it. Then there was George Wickham. Darcy and Mr Wickham undoubtedly had a history between them, and that it was acrimonious was clear. However, she had only heard Wickham’s version of events, and the more she got to know Darcy, the more she doubted Wickham. Had Wickham overheard her frown on Darcy and then used his story to fuel her dislike? Honestly, she did not know. But how could she rationalise Mr Darcy’s assault on Wickham when he had offered her no explanation for his actions? Elizabeth decided, if she was to learn the truth, she must ask someone other than Darcy. Georgiana seemed the best candidate, and Elizabeth resolved to do just that.

Chapter Thirteen

The day after the Matlock ball, only two of the residents at Airwhile House rose to partake in breakfast. Georgiana slept in, as was the custom in the city, but neither Darcy nor Elizabeth adopted this practice.

With only a few hours’ sleep, Elizabeth could be forgiven for not looking her best, but as Darcy peered at her over the top of his coffee cup, he thought she had never looked lovelier. A few wisps of her dark locks determined not to be restrained hung defiantly at the side of her temples. Her cheeks still held a little of the rosy hue they had acquired from dancing most of the night, and her mouth was in possession of a slight smile. Yes, she had a glow about her that seemed to permeate the very air around her. If they had already stood before the preacher, he would not be wasting time daydreaming about how he longed to possess those soft, full lips of hers… But as it was, they had not. Although not satisfying in the least, daydreaming would have to do for now.

Elizabeth was very happy this morning. After much deliberation last night, she had concluded that Mr Darcy was worthy of further investigation. He appeared to be a man of many layers, complex in some respects and simple in others. Until now, Elizabeth had only met with gentlemen who were eager to impress or entertain. She had rarely been exposed to arguments, even between her parent, and all her other male relations and acquaintances were affable. Mr Darcy was the first man to show a less than perfect façade. From the very first day of their acquaintance, she had witnessed an array of emotions from him. Which she found to be both refreshing, exasperating and a little bit exciting. As Darcy revealed more of his character to her, the less, she believed Wickham’s allegations. Today, she had decided, would be the beginning of a new chapter in her life. Now she was to become the mistress of Pemberley, she must get to know its master better.

“Are the eggs not to your liking, Elizabeth? I can have some fresh brought up if you prefer?” Darcy asked as he watched her push the offending item around her plate.

“Oh, no, thank you. I was reminiscing about last night. I have never been to such an event. It was very grand,” Elizabeth replied happily.

“The Prince Regent would call that a country affair.” Darcy chuckled. “The events at Clarence House are what you would describe as truly opulent.”

Elizabeth smiled, then said,

“I liked your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Yes, he enthused your virtues to me throughout the evening. When he threw the question “are there any more like Miss Bennet in Hertfordshire,” at me, I did not dare tell him about your sisters.”

Elizabeth understood his meaning and smiled again, only to see a wry grin in return.

“Why the face?” she asked, “My impression was that you and your cousin were close.”

“Oh, we are. As children, we often shared many things, but as a grown man, there are certain things I am no longer willing to share with my cousin,” Darcy said, and this time, he added a genuine smile.

The temptation to tease was too strong for Elizabeth to deny, and she asked,

“Such as?”

Darcy knew he was being baited, and strangely enough, he didn’t mind. Nevertheless, it was an opportunity to inform Elizabeth that some things were his and his alone.

“I know society considers it fashionable, at present, to engage in mild flirtation with men other than your husband. However, as my wife, I expect you to abstain from this unseemly practice. Likewise, I will offer you the same courtesy.”

Elizabeth knew that the fashion for indulging in extra-marital affairs, such as the Prince Regent did, was something that the upper echelons of society had adopted. The Prince’s affairs were widely reported in the papers, each noting which Lady was in favour with him, and which was not.

Elizabeth tailored her reply to reflect her own feelings on the matter of fidelity.

“It is my opinion that when you say your marriage vows, you are pledging your fidelity before not only your family and friends, but also before God. Such a vow should not be undertaken if there is no intention of keeping it.”

Darcy’s chest puffed up as his heart swelled with a renewed admiration for his beloved. Elizabeth was definitely a very, unique, woman.

With breakfast finished, Darcy left to attend a meeting with his lawyer, leaving Georgiana and Elizabeth alone until dinner time. Georgiana suggested they make the most of a mild day and take a carriage ride in the park.

Elizabeth eagerly agreed, hoping to broach the subject of George Wickham with her.

The snow had either melted or turned to slush overnight, leaving the roads clear and usable, but they still wrapped up warm and covered their legs with furs against the chill in the air.

For the first time in days, the streets were filled with performers and lay preachers, entertaining the crowds or trying to save their souls.

Georgiana commented that the park was uncommonly busy today, but Elizabeth was distracted by a man juggling with knives. Accustomed to seeing such things, Georgiana instead scanned the crowds for any familiar faces. She noticed a few acquaintances, and she nodded in acknowledgement as the men raised their hats and the women inclined their heads.

Engrossed in accepting the salutations of a well-known poet, Georgiana was startled to hear her name called out aloud. She touched Elizabeth’s arm, who turned to her with a broad grin. Elizabeth followed the girl’s gaze and instantly lost her smile.

“Miss Darcy, Georgiana, how refreshing it is to finally get outside after all that horrid snow. Is Mr Darcy not accompanying you today?” came the insincere drawl of Caroline Bingley. The Bingley carriage drew up alongside the Darcy equipage, and Caroline acknowledged Elizabeth with unmasked reluctance,

“Miss Eliza.”

They inclined their heads in acknowledgement of Caroline’s greeting, but her hostility towards Elizabeth had not gone unnoticed by the younger woman.

As Georgiana struggled to reply to Miss Bingley’s question, Elizabeth said,

“Good day Miss Bingley. It is indeed pleasant to be outside once again. Unfortunately, Mr Darcy had a prior engagement.” She said civilly, “And Mr Bingley, is he also in town?”

Caroline leant closer to the Darcy carriage and hissed her reply.

“No, for reasons only he understands, he remains in the country.”

Again, directing her words solely to Georgiana, Caroline continued,

“I recently bumped into a close acquaintance of yours, Miss Darcy. They charged me to pass a message on to you when we next met.”

“A message, for me?” Georgiana asked with surprise.

Caroline lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial tone,

“I believe the person, who shall remain nameless, wishes to return some correspondence to you.”

Georgiana’s mind was a blank. She could not fathom who Miss Bingley was referring to.

“Mr Wickham, of course, George Wickham,” Caroline revealed, her voice filled with exasperation.

Elizabeth, thinking that Caroline was doing her cloak and dagger performance for her sake, realised that it was more serious when she saw Georgiana’s face blanch. How strange that the mention of George Wickham’s name should affect both Darcy and his sister in such an adverse way. Wishing to protect her future sister, Elizabeth tried to end the conversation, but Caroline would not be silenced.

“My conversation with Miss Darcy is private,” Caroline retorted before turning back to Georgiana.

“I want nothing to do with, George Wickham,” Georgiana mumbled. “Fitzwilliam alone deals with Mr Wickham.”

“That won’t do, I’m afraid, Georgiana. I believe Mr Wickham intends to call on you today. A word of advice, my dear, if you want your letters back, you will receive him.” Caroline gave Elizabeth a scathing glare and then ordered her driver to walk on.

Elizabeth was concerned for her young friend's welfare and ordered their driver to return to Airwhile House with alacrity. Once there, Georgiana waited for the servants to leave before she pleaded with Elizabeth,

“I must talk to you, Miss Elizabeth, to explain. Will you come upstairs with me?”

Elizabeth agreed, and together they mounted the stairs and went to Georgiana’s sitting room. Once the was firmly closed behind her, Georgiana grasped Elizabeth by the hand.

“William must never know that I wrote George any letters. Oh, Miss Elizabeth, I behaved like a fool over George Wickham, and it caused William a great deal of pain. Oh, not physical pain, you understand, but anguish, time, money and disappointment, so much disappointment.” Georgiana wept.

From what Georgiana said, Elizabeth began to piece some of the facts together, but if she was to help her, Elizabeth must know everything.

She gently sat the sobbing girl down.

“Tell me everything, leave nothing out.”

Georgiana took only a few seconds to catch her breath and then began to tell Elizabeth about her liaison with George Wickham.

“Last summer,” she recalled, “William thought I might enjoy spending a few months by the sea and rented a house for me in Ramsgate. He employed a lady as my companion and chaperone, a Mrs Younge. George Wickham, who grew up at Pemberley with us both, soon became a frequent visitor. Then he began paying me particular attention, and with our courtship encouraged by Mrs Younge, I thought myself in love. To my utter shame, I agreed to an elopement.” She paused to wipe away her tears. “George said it had to be an elopement because William would forbid our match. He also said, if we presented William with a fait accompli, he would have no choice but to accept our union. Foolishly, I believed him. Why would I not? We all grew up together, I trusted him. Then the day before we were to leave for Scotland, William arrived unexpectedly. I love my brother, Miss Bennet, and him of our plans.” She gave a short, almost hysterical laugh and continued, “I even asked William to stand up with Wickham as his groomsman. Can you imagine that?”

Georgiana paused, taking a deep breath to help composed herself.

“Fitzwilliam ushered me into his carriage, and we returned to town. He uttered not a word to me, not even to reproach me until we arrived back here. Then, as we sat in the drawing room, he took my hand and asked me but one question.”

'“Do you love him, Georgie, truly love him?’”

“I had to admit I did not. I had been flattered by Wickhams’ attention and his honeyed words. In truth, he made me feel attractive and grown up. William then asked me to wait upstairs for him, and he sent for Wickham. My brother told him I had had a change of heart, that I had decided I was too young to commit myself to marriage without having the benefit or pleasure of even one season.”

Georgiana interrupted her narration with a derisory huff before saying,

“In my naivety, I expected George to be upset or maybe to offer to wait for me. Instead, he threatened to reveal our planned elopement unless my brother paid him a substantial amount of money. Of course, William refused point blank. ‘Not one penny of her thirty thousand pounds will ever line your pockets, George Wickham,’ William said. George was furious and left without speaking to me, but the glare of disgust he shot my way spoke volumes. I had been a complete and utter fool, Miss Bennet. I was merely the puppet in his plan to steal my money. I was but a child then and gave credence to what Wickham and Mrs Younge told me. I am older and wiser now and trust only my own judgement. I will not make the same mistake again. To this day, I have not seen or spoken to Wickham, and nor do I want to. William has never reproached me for my childish infatuation, or for what it nearly cost us both.”

“And the letters?” Elizabeth asked.

Georgiana lowered her gaze and whispered,

“I was foolish enough to put my girlish feelings down on paper. I am ashamed to say, I have never revealed their existence to my brother. As I now know Mr Wickham never really loved me, I thought he would have destroyed them.”

The stress of revealing this matter was clearly etched on Georgiana's face.

“I think he intends to ask me for money in return for my letters. What am I to do, Elizabeth?” she wailed. “I only have my pin money, and although William is more than generous, I fear Wickham will want far more than I have.”

There but for the grace of God… Thankfully, Elizabeth was too poor for Wickham’s tastes, but she now understood the hatred between Darcy and Wickham. It also explained why Wickham had gone to great lengths not to be in the same company as Darcy. The Netherfield ball being a prime example. He had boasted, with bravado, that it would be Darcy, not him, who would seek to avoid a meeting. Yet on the night of the dance, it was Darcy and not Wickham who had been in attendance and claimed her for a dance. The events surrounding his inheritance from Mr Darcy Senior, and his subsequent misfortunes, they were probably lies too. Elizabeth mentally recoiled as she remembered her deplorable rudeness to Darcy the night of the Netherfield ball and involuntarily blushed with shame and embarrassment. She was now more amazed than ever that he had made her an offer of marriage.

That strange sensation in the pit of her stomach briefly distracted her, but Georgiana’s gentle sobs soon brought her back to the present.

Elizabeth spoke soothingly to the young girl.

“You should talk to your brother, try to explain. He is a reasonable man, I am sure he will understand.”

“No, no he won’t, Miss Elizabeth. How can he? William has never been in love.” she blurted out before burying her head in her hands sobbing.

Elizabeth would not have hesitated in going to Jane or even her father if she faced such a dilemma, but it was different for Miss Darcy. With no father or mother, there was only her brother to confide in. But Darcy’s position in her life encompassed so many roles; mother, father, brother and best friend. And, although Elizabeth doubted that Mr Darcy had never been in love, Georgiana apparently believed this and felt she could not talk to him about it.

Attempting to reassure Georgiana with a smile, Elizabeth said,

“Until we know what Mr Wickham’s plans are, there really is nothing we can do but wait. If Miss Bingley is correct, he will be here shortly.”

That very afternoon a letter arrived addressed to Miss Georgiana Darcy. She nervously handed it to Elizabeth, who opened it and read it through before revealing its contents.

“Mr Wickham wants me to meet him. If I agree, he will then return your letters. He makes no mention of money or restitution.” Elizabeth glanced up at Georgiana. Signs of relief instantly appeared on her face.

Elizabeth continued,

“He wants to meet me on the corner of the street at five o’clock.”

“It will be dark, Miss Elizabeth; you cannot go alone,” Georgiana said in a panic.

“I have no intention of going alone. No, I will ask James to accompany me.”

Elizabeth folded the note and put it in her dress pocket.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet. Although we are newly acquainted, I knew I could confide in you.”

Elizabeth looked at Georgiana and saw a frightened young girl, with no-one to turn to but a stranger she had met a just a few days ago. Though her heart went out to her, she felt a pang of homesickness.

“Come, we are soon to be sisters.” Elizabeth said, “You must call me Elizabeth, and I will call you Georgiana.” Then is a serious tone, Elizabeth said, “Remember, you are no longer alone, Georgiana; I am here, and we will see this thing through together.”

With only one hour to go before the designated meeting time, the ladies hurried below stairs to elicit the footman’s help.

James was relieved that the master was not home to see such tomfoolery. Although he was a recent addition to the household, his family had served the Darcy’s for generations. It was common knowledge below stairs what had transpired between the young mistress and that scoundrel George Wickham, although none spoke of it. Their loyalty to Darcy was unquestionable. Thank goodness Colonel Fitzwilliam had tipped his cousin off about the comings and goings of Wickham in Ramsgate; otherwise, it might have been a very sad ending for the young mistress. And now he had resurfaced again, to cause more trouble, no doubt. Well, James thought, he will find himself at the end of this club if he stepped out of line with the master’s intended.

Elizabeth pulled her cloak tighter around her body, trying to ward off the biting cold wind that was whipping around the corner of Grosvenor Square. She had never done anything like this before, and she glanced over her shoulder to check James was in place. Though the layout of the square meant his place of concealment was half a street away, Elizabeth took comfort in knowing he was standing in the shadows. Even so, she could not deny she was scared.

Elizabeth had arrived a good twenty minutes before the designated time of the meeting at Georgiana’s request. She was concerned that there must be no chance of missing Wickham. Elizabeth stamped her feet to distract her mind from the creeping cold that was penetrating her soft kid boots. Her watch told her he was ten minutes late. Elizabeth glanced up at the gas light and was dismayed to see a few flakes of snow floating down and landing on the pavement where they refused to melt.

Suddenly, she heard the muffled sound of carriage wheels heading her way.

As a surge of adrenaline coursed through her body, Elizabeth felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

A hackney carriage pulled by a single horse had come into view. It hugged the kerb as it crept along one step at a time. As it neared the corner, it slowed down even more.

Elizabeth took a step back. Something was not right. Then, as it drew almost level with her, she saw a man open the carriage door, but he remained standing on the footplate. She was about to take another step back from the kerb, but she was too late. The man extended his arm and made a grab for her.

“Damn!” he cursed aloud as she moved just out of reach.

Then a woman’s voice shouted,

“Just grab her, you idiot!”

In the next instant, the man had jumped down and covered the short distance between himself and Elizabeth. Lunging forward, he caught her cloak in his hand and pulled her back towards him. As he struggled in a failed attempt to throw her over his shoulder, Elizabeth screamed for all she was worth. While she emptied her lungs, he raised his hand and clamped it over her mouth and nose. Now desperate for air, she began to flay about wildly with her arms and legs. In total panic, and as oblivion closed in, her final act was to sink her teeth into her assailant’s fleshy hand.

He instantly raised his free hand to cuff her about the head, but he had miscalculated his balance. To keep himself from falling, the man staggered backwards. Elizabeth felt herself slipping from his grasp and renewed her efforts to break free. As she stumbled forward, she broke his hold on her, and she turned to run, but the man anticipated her move and stretched out his bleeding hand, seizing the hood of her cloak.

Again, she began to stumble backwards, closer and closer to the open carriage door.

“Hurry, you fool, someone’s coming,” came a viper-like hiss from inside the carriage.

Frantically, Elizabeth tried to undo the clasp of her cloak, but it was so tight against her throat she could not release it. One last time, she tried to call for help. But the pressure of the clasp against her throat made it impossible to utter a word. Fearing all hope was lost, she was shocked to find herself suddenly falling to the wet pavement.

“You bastard, get your filthy hands off her,” her rescuer cursed aloud.

Without looking back, she scrambled to her feet and began to run, not stopping until she stood at the top of the steps at Airwhile House. Only then, as she stood gasping for breath, did she scan the street for any sign of the young footman.

The pounding of her heart was suddenly echoed by the hooves of the solitary horse as the carriage, and its occupants bolted past. She screwed up her eyes against the falling snow and tried to peer inside the fleeing vehicle. With time for only the briefest of a glimpse, she was aghast to see George Wickham and… Caroline Bingley.

Rooted to the spot with disbelief, she felt overwhelmed at the thought that someone hated her so much, that they would do her physical harm. Abducting her for who knows what purpose, she could only imagine. Thank God for James and his timely intervention. Still shaking, she jumped when she felt a hand on her arm but was awash with relief to see it was the young footman.

“Are you all right, miss? Come inside and let Mrs Brooks send for the doctor. You took quite a tumble back there.”

Elizabeth ignored the impropriety of his act as James placed his arm around her waist to support her, and gladly let the footman lead her inside.

Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth’s hand shook as she tried to sip her tea. Mrs Brooks reached over and gently guided it to her lips and then placed the cup back on the table. A trickle of melted snow ran down Elizabeth’s neck, and she shivered at the icy liquid reached the warm skin of her back. Again Mrs Brooks stepped forward and pulled the blanket tightly around her shoulders.

“I do wish you would let me call the doctor. Miss Georgiana, do you not agree that Miss Bennet should see a doctor?”

Georgiana, who was mortified at the ordeal Elizabeth had suffered on her behalf, could not find her voice to reply.

“At least let me send for the master,” urged the housekeeper, but Elizabeth insisted there was no need for a doctor. Now feeling calmer, Elizabeth asked where James was, and if he had sustained any injuries?

“He appears unharmed, miss. In fact, he is waiting out in the hall. He insisted he must speak with you, even though Mr Miller has ordered him below stairs several times,” replied Mrs Brooks.

Then, as if speaking her thoughts aloud, she continued,

“It must be important for him to disobey Mr Miller so openly.”

Elizabeth understood that such open defiance of the Butler could result in James being dismissed, so she agreed to see him straight away.

“Please, send James in,” Elizabeth said.

The young footman was beckoned in and went to stand directly in front of Elizabeth’s chair.

Elizabeth smiled warmly.

“James, please accept my heartfelt gratitude for coming to my aid. If you had not intervened when you did, well I shudder to think where I would be now.” Elizabeth said with all sincerity.

A blush stained the young man’s cheeks as he accepted her thanks in silence.

“Run along now,” Mrs Brooks said, and she tried to usher him from the room.

James seemed reluctant to leave, and Elizabeth wondered why. He didn’t seem the kind of person who was greedy for attention?

“Wait,” Elizabeth called. “Is there something else, James?” Elizabeth asked.

James raised his hand and held out a bundle of papers tied with a yellow ribbon. They looked slightly damp, but the parcel seemed to be intact.

“He must have dropped them as we struggled, miss. When they drove off, I saw them laying on the pavement. I thought they might be important.”

Georgiana, who had listened quietly to their exchange, now moved to the edge of her seat. She could scarcely catch her breath as she recognised the coloured band that bound the letters.

“Thank you, James. I will take care of these.” Elizabeth took the bundle of damp papers and placed them in her lap, under the blanket.

James grinned shyly, pleased that his instinct had been correct. The papers were important, and he had done the right thing in giving them to his future mistress.

Elizabeth knew that now was not the time to ask James if he had recognised their assailants. That conversation must be conducted in private. She could not besmirch Caroline Bingley's good name with such a damning allegation unless James could collaborate her story. Only then, could she hand the matter over to Darcy.

Elizabeth felt drained. Although the entire horrid incident, had lasted no more than a minute, she felt as though she had been in the ring with Hen Pearce. Elizabeth thanked James and Mrs Brooks for taking care of her and then asked Georgiana to help her to her room.

With the bedroom door firmly closed behind them and Elizabeth resting in a chair beside the fire, she was finally able to ask, Georgiana,

“Is it them?”

“Yes, I believe it is,” Georgiana said and knelt at Elizabeth’s feet.

Pulling one sheet from the bundle, she carefully unfolded the damp paper.

Elizabeth watched as Georgiana’s eyes scanned the letter she had written only a year ago. When she had finished reading it, she rolled her eyes skyward and handed the paper to Elizabeth.

Dearest, Darling George,

I feel like a princess about to be rescued from her ivory tower. My gallant knight,

Sir George will arrive on his steed of white and whisk me away, his sword held

aloft. Our life together will be all the sweeter for the purity and the sincerity of our

love, which runs as true as a river runs its course. Our love runs in our veins,

pumping stronger every day. We will spend our days reading poetry and feeding

each other sweet treats. Oh, Sir George, let the days of our separation be few, and

our years together be many.

Your loving girl,

Georgiana

Elizabeth handed it back and looked at Georgiana with wide eyes. Incriminating, yes, but anyone with a farthing's worth of sense could see they were the work of an immature, love-struck child. Even if they had been made public, no one would blame the fifteen-year-old Georgiana. They would probably pour scorn on Wickham for encouraging her childish infatuation, not to mention the difference in their stations!

She asked Georgiana what she intended to do with them now.

Georgiana pondered their fate for a moment only, and then without a moment's hesitation, threw the entire bundle into the flames.

Elizabeth gave her a reassuring smile, and then, feeling the full effects of the evening's events, told Georgiana she was going to rest for a while before dinner.

Georgiana kissed her on the cheek and then left.

Elizabeth felt strangely content. Hopefully, this was the last tie between George Wickham and Georgiana Darcy. He would no longer have any sway over Mr Darcy or his beloved sister.

Elizabeth could not rest just yet. Instead, she peeped out her door to check that Georgiana had not lingered, and then quickly made her way down the servant’s back stairs, and made her way to the kitchens. She must speak with James before Darcy returned home. She had no doubt Miller would inform his master of the evening's escapades as soon as he walked through the door.

The servants, who were all busy going about their tasks, stopped when they saw Elizabeth enter the kitchen. Mr Miller, who disliked visitors below stairs, told everyone to go about their business. He then guided Elizabeth through to his office and asked how he could help. On hearing it was the footman she wanted to speak to, Miller pursed his lips. He had better things to do than chaperone the future mistress while she chatted to James, who had also neglected quite enough of his work for one day.

Mindful of his position, Miller summoned the young man and then waited outside the door at Elizabeth’s request.

“James, everything happened so quickly earlier, I cannot remember if I thanked you for coming to my rescue.”

He nodded nervously, aware that Mr Miller was standing guard at the door.

“Oh, good. Now, I also wanted to ask if you recognised either of the people involved?”

He quickly confirmed that he did indeed know the ladies voice but had not seen her face.

“I’ve only worked here a few weeks, miss, and have been mostly training below stairs. But I’m sure I would recognise it if I heard it again, miss; it was very distinct,” he replied.

As Elizabeth made her way back upstairs, she decided it was time to invite Miss Bingley to tea.

It had been an exhausting day, but Darcy had finally finished his business. He had spent the entire day arguing with his lawyer about the size of Elizabeth’s settlement should he die and leave her a widow. After much haggling, and toing and froing, he eventually convinced his man to draw up the papers to his specifications. He was to then have them delivered promptly to Airwhile House.

As Darcy waited for the ladies to join him downstairs, he poured himself a glass of whisky. He sipped at the golden liquid, swirling it around his mouth to savour its full flavour. He was looking forward to spending the evening with Elizabeth and his sister. So, when Miller said a caller was waiting to see him, he was less than pleased.

Miller then announced Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“What are you doing here, Richard. Don’t you have some French to fight?” Darcy asked ill-humouredly.

“No time for pleasantries, Darcy, I have bad news.”

Darcy held up his hand to halt the conversation, then poured himself another large whisky and drank it straight down. He refilled his glass and poured one for Richard.

“All right, out with it,” Darcy said.

“Wickham’s in town.”

There was no denying it was bad news, in fact, it was the worse.

“How do you know this and where was he seen?” Darcy said grimly.

“Two of my men were drinking in a rather seedy establishment near the docks when a fight broke out. It was three against one, so they stepped in and evened up the odds, but not before the target had received several blows. Afterwards, Wickham insisted on buying them a drink.” Richard paused.

“And…?” Darcy asked.

“Then he introduced himself…as Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“He what!” exploded Darcy as he slammed down his glass.

“And that’s not all I discovered. He’s a deserter. Somehow, it became common knowledge that Wickham had run up debts all over Hertfordshire. Colonel Forster demanded that he reimburse all his creditors forthwith, and threatened to withhold his pay until he had restored the good name of the regiment. Wickham was true to form, and rather than lose his pay, he did a runner. I have also ascertained that he has been running up debts all over the city. Though not in his own name, but in your name. At least for the past two weeks, and in the most disreputable and unsavoury of places.”

Darcy was speechless with rage. Was his life to be forever blighted by the scoundrel Wickham? From the age of seven, he had endured his lies, taken beatings for him, and recompensed his victims. Even his sister had not escaped Wickham’s vile touch.

Well, no more.

“It gets worse, Darcy.” Richard paused again, “When my men confronted him about his identity, he confessed who he was. But he also boasted that he was again engaged to Georgiana and….” Richard was reluctant to speak the final words.

“Tell me, Richard, or so help me God…” Darcy said menacingly.

“…and was again planning an elopement with her. We must be rid of Wickham once and for all, Darcy. He will plague your life with threats to Georgie forever if we keep doing nothing. Say the word, and I can arrange for him to disappear this very night,” Richard pleaded.

But Darcy said nothing. Last summer, he would not have questioned Georgiana’s trust or loyalty, but Wickham had almost destroyed them both when he convinced her to elope with him. Was Wickham telling the truth now? Had Georgiana been lying to him this past year? As much as he wanted to give Richard the nod, to be rid of Wickham forever, he could not. He must speak to his sister first.

So, instead, he asked Richard to keep him under surveillance. Although Richard readily agreed, he could not help adding,

“I will discreetly let it be known who he really is, and if we get lucky, maybe one of his creditors will do the job for us. Good night, Darcy.”

Richard finished his drink and left.

Darcy merely nodded farewell. His mind was in torment. He must now speak the words to Georgiana he thought never to pass his lips again. Was she in love with George Wickham?

Chapter Fifteen

Georgiana was surprised when the footman gave her maid a message from William. His abrupt tone was still evident, even though Mary spoke it.

“Come down to the library, now.”

She knew instantly that Miller would have told William about the incident surrounding Elizabeth. She could, of course, deny all knowledge of it, but honesty was in her blood, as it was her brother’s. There comes a time in every woman’s life when she must leave the nursery behind and take responsibility for her own actions. Georgiana realised that for her, today was that day.

“Good evening William,” she said and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Are you well?”

“Good evening, Georgiana,” he replied, ignoring her inquiry. “Come, sit by me, we must talk.”

She did as he asked and waited in a state of severe nervousness for him to begin.

“I had some disturbing news brought to me this evening, and I must establish the truth of it before I act.”

Darcy rose and paced the room briefly before returning to her side and taking her hands in his.

“Georgiana, I have tried to raise you as our parents would have wished, and I am proud of the woman you have become. However, there is something I must ask you, and even though it pains me greatly to do so, I know you will be honest with me.” He paused to look into her eyes, and then asked the dreaded question,

“Have you seen George Wickham since last summer?”

The temptation to just say no surfaced for an instant but was gone just as fast. Georgiana loved her brother dearly, and part of that love was their mutual trust in one another.

“I have not seen him myself, William, but I have been party to an episode that I am not proud of.” She withdrew her hands from his, ashamed at having deceived him. She spoke softly, but clearly, as told him all that had happened. The message from Caroline, how Elizabeth had agreed to the meeting, and the subsequent attack on her person. Finally, she concluded with the part that James had played in the rescue of Elizabeth and the recovery of the letters. When she had finished, she expected to receive, and rightly so, the full wrath of Darcy’s anger. Instead, he was silent, which was even worse.

Eventually, he said,

“You endangered two people's lives for the recovery of a few letters? I am disappointed in you, Georgiana, but I am more disappointed in myself. I should have resolved the matter of George Wickham last year. He is my problem, not yours, and this time, the result will be final.”

Darcy studied her face, and as her eyes glistened with unshed tears, he saw that she was no longer a child, yet not quite a woman.

“It is true, reputation for a woman is everything, but time is also a great healer. Society would have soon forgiven the childish infatuation of a fifteen-year-old girl. Compared to Wickham’s attempted abduction and blackmail, your letters are inconsequential. Now, first bring me the letters, Georgie. I will destroy them. Secondly, you will inform Miss Elizabeth to return to bed until the physician has examined her. I expect she will object, but tell her I will broach no argument on the subject,” he said in a kinder tone.

Georgiana was so relieved by the leniency of his rebuke that she was already walking towards the door when she said,

“Miss Elizabeth and I already burnt the letters, William, but I will give her your message directly,” and she closed the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, it was a slightly annoyed, but not surprised Darcy who watched as Elizabeth walked into his library and stood before him.

“Did you not receive my instructions, Elizabeth?” he said with mild irritation.

“I did, sir, but as you can see, I am in perfect health and in no need of a physician,” she replied calmly.

As he expected, she was determined to ignore his advice. Why could she not see he was merely concerned for her welfare? Already too much had happened to her while under his protection. First Hursts’ drunken assault, and now this.

“And you know that for sure, do you?” he asked sarcastically. “I was unaware you possessed a medical qualification,” he continued as his temper rose.

Elizabeth was in no mood to be browbeaten, and especially not by Darcy. She had been through an ordeal this evening in an effort to protect his sister's reputation, and while her younger sisters were not perfect, they had never been so foolish as to agree to an elopement.

“Sir, both you and I know that I am not a doctor, but I know my own body. If I say I am well, you may take my word that I am well. I do not decline your offer for a physician merely to annoy you, I decline it because it is unnecessary.”

“Madam, might I remind you that Georgiana has told me everything. As I am personally responsible for your welfare, you will do as I ask and let the physician examine you.”

“I do not need a doctor,” Elizabeth said emphatically. “Sir, you take too much upon yourself,” she replied haughtily.

“You are too stubborn for your own good, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It makes me want to shake you until you see sense,” he added, totally exasperated by her lack of compliance with his wishes.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Elizabeth retorted defiantly.

“Do not push me, Elizabeth. You may be my future wife, but you’re not too big for a spanking,” he threatened as he took a step closer to where she was standing.

Elizabeth felt her ire rise at his high-handed attitude.

“I might,” she emphasised, “be your future wife sir, but only a father has the prerogative to administer that punishment to a daughter. And you, sir, are not my father,” she replied dismissively.

Her bosom was heaving with vexation at his words, but her stomach was awash with the flutter of excitement. Although they were arguing, she had never felt so alive.

Darcy admired her spunk. As she glared at him with fire in her eyes and that defiant tilt of her chin, he found her more desirable, and harder to resist, than ever.

His longing to take her in his arm and kiss her proved overpowering. His breathing became laboured, and he felt a tightness in his chest, but this was no ailment. He took the final step to close the gap between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently shook her.

Elizabeth did nothing to defend herself or to stop him. His touch had ignited a feeling that was alien to her. It seemed to rob her of her senses, but in a way that left her aching for more. Her breath came in short bursts, as she anticipated his next move, and she felt she should die if he did not kiss her. She instinctively parted her lips and closed her eyes.

Like a moth to the flame, Darcy’s desire to kiss her could not be denied, and he lowered his head to take possession of her mouth. At first, he slowly massaged her lips with his own. They were soft and pliable, and her naive butterfly response only fuelled his passion. Folding her in his arms, Darcy tightened their embrace, and as the heat from their bodies mingled together, so did their scent. The heady mixture of lavender and sandalwood swirled around them in an invisible cloud. There was no denying Darcy’s desire to possess Elizabeth, only his willpower stood between them.

Elizabeth felt as if she was floating. As she tilted her head to accept Darcys’ embrace, she heard a soft moan of pleasure escape from him. The pressure of his warm lips on hers had been gentle at first, but as his ardour had increased so had his demand. He gently probed her mouth with his tongue and although she was unsure at first, the pleasure it brought forth soon convinced her to accept and savour the sensation. His tender caresses made her skin feel alive, and every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming for his attention. She folded her arms around his neck and tried to pull him closer still, but there was no closer. Only consummation could render that possible.

Darcy continued to kiss her with a mixture of feather kisses and passionate embraces until as expected, he felt a familiar stirring in his loins. He wanted nothing more than to make love to Elizabeth, to make her his in the true sense of the word, but now was not the time and most definitely not the place. He summoned all his willpower and broke free from her tempting lips, and whispered hoarsely,

“Elizabeth, I have to stop, my love. I am in control of my body for only so long, and if we continue thus…” His words trailed off.

Elizabeth understood his meaning and was thankful that he was a gentleman.

Darcy watched as a reluctant smile formed on her now swollen lips, and he again fought the temptation to resume their former activity. He brushed a strand of hair back from her face and then cupped her cheeks in his hands. His expression conveyed how reluctant he was to leave her embrace.

Then with a rueful smile, he said,

“I think I can now attest to you being uninjured, my love.” His thoughts then turned serious.

“You are my life now, Elizabeth. Promise me that you will not put yourself in such a situation again. Wickham is a dangerous, and desperate man. Promise me?”

Elizabeth, still breathless and lightheaded from their encounter, nodded her agreement.

Dinner was a subdued affair. The conversation was stilted and forced, and all the diners were pleased when Miller announced that, ‘coffee was served in the drawing-room, sir.’

Georgiana retired to her room immediately after the meal, leaving her brother and Elizabeth alone

Darcy accepted a cup of the hot beverage from Elizabeth but did not sit with her to drink it. Instead, he elected to stand before the window, as she had so often seen him do before.

With his back turned towards her, Darcy’s next words revealed his anguish.

“Elizabeth, did you read the letters Georgiana sent to Wickham?”

Taking a deep breath, she confirmed she had read only one.

“And the content, was it innocent in detail?” he asked, in a pained tone.

Elizabeth confirmed it was innocent and recited all she could remember.

His shoulders slumped with visible relief, and as the silence stretched on, Elizabeth waited for him to recover.

“It was not that I disbelieved her, but it does reassure me she was telling me the truth, that their alliance was not consummated physically. Although Georgiana denied it, when I confronted Wickham, he stated that he had deflowered her only to spite me. If that were true, his intended revenge on me would have been at a greater cost to Georgiana,” he revealed.

Elizabeth’s heart went out to him, and she walked over and stood at his side. Placing a comforting hand on his arm, she said,

“From my short acquaintance with Miss Darcy, my impression is that she is still…unworldly,” Elizabeth murmured.

Darcy pursed his lips in a rueful smile.

“Thank you, Elizabeth, but while Wickham still breathes, he is a constant reminder to both Georgiana and me, of how easily one’s happiness can be shattered. If you will excuse me, I must put additional security plans in place to protect us all.”

And with these words, he handed her his cup and left her alone.

Chapter Sixteen

Early the next morning, Darcy again received a troubled Richard at Airwhile House. He was usually immaculately dressed, but today his clothes were dishevelled, and he looked fatigued and unshaven.

“Rough night, old man?” Darcy asked as he passed him a cup of coffee.

“You could say that. I’ve been out all night looking for Wickham,” Richard sighed as he slumped into a chair and took a large gulp of the steaming liquid.

Darcy glared at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Richard held up his hand to forestall him, saying,

“I know, I promised to keep tabs on him. Unfortunately, my men do have to eat, and while they were enjoying their tucker, he slipped out the back door of the tavern. He must have gotten wise that he was being watched, or as I suspect, been tipped off. I took a squad of men with me last night, and we scoured every inn, gambling den and brothel in the city. I can only conclude that someone is hiding him.”

“A woman perhaps?” Darcy said rhetorically.

“Yes, perhaps a woman. Are you thinking of Mrs Younge?”

“Who else would conceal the blaggard but his former accomplice? I know what to do now, Richard. Fortunately, I have kept tabs on her since the debacle of last summer. Will you come with me?” Darcy asked.

“Try and stop me,” Richard replied as he drained his cup.

It didn’t take long for the two men to retrieve Mrs Younge’s address, hail a Hackney carriage and be on their way, although the driver did question their choice of destination.

The driver pulled the horses to a stop, and Darcy and Richard stepped out of the carriage. They were immediately accosted by several ragamuffins holding out their filth-covered hands, begging for money. With good intentions, they threw a few coppers down onto the pavement, but instantly a fight broke out as the urchins scrambled to pick them up. Ahead, the street was crowded with hawkers selling their wares. The din of their cries was thunderous as they competed for customers. Moving on, Darcy and Richard gingerly stepped over the rotting debris that littered the street, while trying to inhale as little as possible of the acrid air around them.

After locating the right alleyway, they walked down the narrow path until they came upon the property they were seeking. At least it was slightly less squalid down here than on the main street, although the location, peeling paint and state of general disrepair attested to the poverty of the neighbourhood.

Darcy raised his cane and rapped on the rotting wooden door.

A disembodied female voice called out,

“The mistress ain’t at home.”

Darcy looked at Richard, who shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. Annoyed that his cousin offered no help, Darcy took a moment to decide his next action.

Again, Darcy rapped on the door, saying,

“I have not come to see the mistress, but I have a guinea for you if you can tell me where her friend has gone?”

The door opened a crack, and a young girl of about fifteen peered out. Her rosy complexion was marred by a mixture of grease and soot.

Having ascertained that it was indeed a real gentleman at the door, she opened it a little wider. She gave a snotty sniff, then raised her arm and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

Darcy’s heart gave an involuntary lurch as he realised this girl was about Georgiana’s age. Their lives could not be more different.

Softening his tone, he asked,

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Becky,” she replied defensively.

“Don’t be frightened, Becky, we mean you no harm. We are looking for George Wickham. Has he been here lately?” Darcy asked.

She held out her hand for her payment, and Darcy dutifully placed a shiny guinea into her filthy palm.

“He was here, but he ain’t now. The mistress threw him out yesterday,” she said as she eyed them suspiciously.

“And do you know why Mrs Younge treated her friend so ill?” Darcy continued.

“He stole some money from her purse, and when he returned, he was drunk. He kept mumbling about some girl, and then he grabbed the mistress by the shoulders and shook her most violently. He was shouting at her to help him, saying the girl must marry him whether she wanted to or not. I thought he meant me when he said that, I was proper scared, I was,” she said with wide eyes.

Darcy, fearful of the answer to his next question, said,

“And the girl Wickham wanted to marry, Becky, what do you know about her?”

“It was that fancy young miss that Mrs Younge looked after last year, poor girl. I pity any woman who ties themselves to George Wickham” Suddenly scared she had said too much, she abruptly slammed the door shut.

Realising there was no point in questioning the girl further, they made their way back to Airwhile House. Darcy was relieved the journey home was made in silence. He was in no mood to listen to Richard’s rebukes for leaving Wickham at liberty for so long. While Richard was lost in his own thought, mentally plotting how to dispose of their nemesis once and for all.

With the library door firmly shut behind them, Richard pleaded with Darcy,

“Now will you let me deal with him.?”

“We have to catch him first, Richard. Until then, I must make arrangements to send Georgiana and Elizabeth away. They are not safe here, not until Wickham is behind bars. I will write to Mr Bennet and Colonel Forster explaining what has happened. I hope Colonel Forster will spare a few men to watch the Longbourn estate. Wickham has shown a preference for Elizabeth in the past. I will ask Aunt Abigail if Georgiana can stay with her for now,” Darcy said more to himself than to his company.

“Miss Bennet’s father knows about Wickham?” Richard asked with surprise.

“I had to take him into my confidence, Richard. There was an incident in the town where Elizabeth lives that I could explain no other way. With five daughters to protect, he was more than understanding.”

“I take it Wickham was involved in the matter?” Richard asked.

“He was,” was all Darcy replied.

“Very well, then I offer myself and my men until this matter is resolved,” Richard stated decisively.

Darcy nodded his acceptance and then poured them both a drink, which Richard gratefully accepted. It had been a long night and promised to be an even longer day.

Richard made his way back to the barracks to liaise with his men. He was concerned for his cousin's well-being. George Wickham and his erroneous concept that Darcy had treated him ill had been a blight on his cousin's life for years. When in reality he had been given a superior start to life, more so than any normal son of a steward could expect. And as much as Richard loved his uncle, he laid the blame for Wickham’s resentment towards Darcy squarely at his feet. He’d spoilt the boy and given him a taste for a life he could never hope to achieve.

Once at the barracks, Richard ordered his men to begin a methodical sweep of the city. Hopefully, they would uncover someone who would renegade on Wickham for a few shillings of beer money.

The pain and worry etched on Darcy’s face made Richard curse Wickham again. The vendetta he waged against his cousin must be stopped, permanently and irrevocably, and he was in the perfect position to arrange it. He could have Wickham press-ganged aboard a ship bound for the Americas. No-one would be the wiser or even care. And now that he knew Georgiana’s feelings were not engaged, that was precisely what he intended to do.

Darcy spent the remainder of the morning arranging an evening out with Elizabeth. He had brought her to London to spend time with her, in the hope that she would fall in love with him. Yesterday had been encouraging, and with his love already declared, he hoped she would soon return his sentiment. He knew Elizabeth liked to dance, so dancing it would be, and not just any dance either. He called for his carriage and set off to pay a visit to his friend Sarah, Countess of Jersey.

That evening, an excited Elizabeth climbed into the same carriage, aglow with excitement at a surprise outing. Darcy, who had given her barely three hours to get ready, thought she looked radiant and complimented her accordingly.

“Now will you tell me?” she asked. “It is exceedingly difficult to dress for an evening out when one does not know where one is going.”

Darcy laughed.

“Be patient, my love, all will be revealed in just a moment.”

He loved how her whole face lit up when she smiled, especially her eyes. They twinkled and shone like bright stars in the night sky. He recalled the first time he had noticed how fine they were. It was at Lucas Lodge, just before she refused to dance with him. He remembered voicing his thoughts to Caroline Bingley, and then instantly regretting it. Clearly, Caroline thought he was going to say it was her fine eyes he was admiring, but when Darcy revealed it was Elizabeth’s, Caroline had spent the next two days teasing his about having Mrs Bennet for a mother-in-law.

As the carriage turned into King Street, Elizabeth was almost certain she knew their destination, and she shot Darcy a look of disbelief.

He smiled and nodded.

Elizabeth was beyond mere excitement; she was euphoric. Somehow, Darcy had arranged for them to attend the midweek ball at the most prestigious, and elite establishment in all of London. Elizabeth knew that the vouchers to Almack’s were almost impossible to obtain. Obviously, Darcy had friends in the highest of places, she mused.

Once inside, Darcy paused to give Elizabeth time to look around and take in the splendour of her surroundings. The long ballroom had several tall, arch-topped windows, with simple white drapes, while the panels in between the windows were decorated with a geometric pattern by the renowned designer Robert Adams. There was carpet on the floor, and the end walls were adorned with huge gilt-framed mirrors. It was all so splendid and exciting. She would be the envy of not only her sisters once they knew, but of all Meryton too. Elizabeth turned to Darcy and clapped her hands in glee.

It pleased him to see Elizabeth so happy. After what she had endured these last few weeks, she deserved to be spoilt. Besides, seeing her happy, made him happy too.

Only the crème da la crème was permitted to attend the Wednesday ball at Almack’s. And Elizabeth, being a first-time visitor, was the hot topic for the gossips. Most of the revellers knew very little about her, other than she was Darcy’s fiancée. They hid their faces behind their fluttering fans and whispered to each other about the style of her dress, her deportment, her reputed beauty. If Darcy or Elizabeth heard any of it, they did not acknowledge or react to it, but merely continued on their course. However, he did expect, if past experience was anything to go by, that the majority of their inquisitors to be the she-wolves of society, not the wolves. But, Darcy was, as ever, prepared to defend what was his.

Many of the revellers were mothers with marriageable daughters in tow. They were openly amazed to see the master of Pemberley in attendance. Darcy rarely attended Almack’s, and only ever as a guest of the Prince Regent, who, of course, needed no voucher. So, for him to be here tonight, and with a lady, was quite a unique occurrence. There was also speculation about who had sponsored his visit, but this question at least was soon to be answered.

Darcy took Elizabeth by the hand and brought her to stand before a group of distinguished-looking women. He bowed lower than she had ever seen him do before, and she adjusted her curtsy to reflect his salute. Darcy then stepped forward and kissed the hand of a once-beautiful woman. Her hair was almost all grey now, but a hint of raven black was still visible at her temples. Her mature beauty was still evident, and her eyes were bright and alert.

“Lady Sarah, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, this is Sarah, Countess of Jersey and senior patroness of Almack’s. Sarah is our benefactor tonight. She kindly allowed me to bring you here without a voucher.” Again, bowed his head in acknowledgement of her benevolence.

“How could I refuse? You are an enigma to society, Darcy. I seldom break the rules, but the chance of some clarity on your character convinced me to do so.”

She turned to Elizabeth and continued,

“You know, my dear, society likes nothing more than a mystery, and you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, are certainly a mystery.” And she tapped her fan on his shoulder in a playful reprimand.

Elizabeth looked at Darcy and gave a puzzled smile. Looking back to the countess, she asked,

“How so, madam?”

Sarah leant closer still, and then said in a conspiratorial tone,

“Fitzwilliam is handsome, wealthy and unwed, yet since his coming of age, he has shunned all the debutants society has to offer. Do you know, my dear, not one hint of scandal has been attached to Darcy’s name, ever? How is that, Miss Bennet?”

Elizabeth hoped her demeanour did not betray that she knew otherwise.

“Perhaps, ma’am, Mr Darcy is a man without fault,” replied Elizabeth and then she beamed her brightest and most playful smile at them both.

The Countess took a moment to repeat Elizabeth’s words.

“Darcy, a man without fault?”

Elizabeth watched with trepidation until she saw the start of a grin appear on Lady Sarah’s face.

“Yes, I do believe you are right Miss Bennet. I declare that I can think of no faults that I can attribute to the Master of Pemberley. What do you say to that, Darcy? Do you see yourself as a man without fault?” Lady Sarah asked playfully.

Darcy felt uncomfortable with all the attention directed towards him, but to be churlish would draw even more attention his way.

Taking just a minute to formulate his reply.

“As we all know, Lady Jersey, there is no such thing as a man without fault. I have no doubt that many people would say that I have many faults. My tailor may say that I am too particular about the cut of the cloth. The cobbler who makes my boots may say that I am too selective about the leather he uses. And I am sure Fletcher, my valet, would say I am too pedantic when dressing. These are all faults, madam, but none that I would draw attention to. Perhaps, my only real weakness is that in the past I have been accused of being prideful. However, Miss Elizabeth has softened my opinion on many things, and I now view the world in possession of a much happier disposition.”

And as if to prove his point, he bestowed them both with a radiant smile.

Lady Sarah laughed heartily.

“Bravo, Darcy, the perfect reply.”

Relieved that his reputation had survived unscathed, Darcy made their excuses and escorted Elizabeth to the supper room. He procured them both a glass of lemonade and then scanned the room. Darcy acknowledged the many hails directed to him with only a slight incline of his head. He had no intention of wasting the evening introducing Elizabeth to other people. Tonight, was for them, and them alone.

Elizabeth looked down at the day-old bread covered with a scraping of butter, and the plain, un-iced cakes. She had read about the unappetizing fare served at Almack’s but thought it an exaggeration. Clearly, it was not. She now understood why Darcy had insisted she enjoy a full dinner before they left; the food here certainly left a lot to be desired.

Almack’s only permitted country dances, which was a blessing. He knew Elizabeth was a consummate dancer, as was he, but the more intricate modern dances that were being introduced were quite intimate. He could not vouch for his temper if another man were to place his arms around her waist.

Darcy took her hand and led her out for the first dance. From the corner of his eye, he observed several people, both men and women, raise their eyeglasses. Darcy did not suffer crowds well. A surfeit of individuals, all chattering, creating a din, was an assault on one's ears, as well as one’s senses, and it irritated him excessively. Yet, for Elizabeth’s pleasure, he would tolerate it for one night.

The dance concluded, and they both clapped their hands politely.

Over the next few hours, Darcy reluctantly permitted a few select gentlemen to escort Elizabeth onto the dance floor. During these moments apart, he circled the room, ensuring she was never from his view.

Elizabeth sensed, rather than knew that Darcy was watching her, but she but did nothing to acknowledge it.

She had bowed to his superior knowledge and let him pick her partners; she was enjoying herself too much to take offence. After covering the dancefloor with several fellow revellers, including Darcy again, she began to feel tired. During their last dance together, Darcy had noticed the lightness of her steps falter. Deciding it was time for them to leave, he thanked the countess for allowing their unscheduled attendance, and then had the carriage brought around.

Elizabeth settled back into the comfortable sprung seat and watched sleepy-eyed as Darcy placed a blanket around her legs. She felt content and happy, and as the carriage gently swayed, the tiredness that had slowed her steps threatened to overcome her consciousness. Only a few minutes into their journey, and after a valiant attempt to stay awake, she gave in willingly.

Darcy took the seat opposite Elizabeth and told the driver to take a sedate ride back. He gazed at the now-sleeping Elizabeth, her features relaxed and at peace. Her long, dark lashes that so perfectly framed her eyes were now resting on her moon kissed cheeks, and her soft, full lips were curved into an inviting bow. As she slept, her chest rose and fell in an exact rhythm. She was a vision of loveliness, and Darcy felt an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms. Not to kiss her this time, but to protect her.

As they rounded a bend in the road, her head tipped to one side and banged against the carriage window frame.

With the perfect excuse, Darcy moved to sit next to Elizabeth. Gently, so as not to wake her, he drew her into the curve of his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Many times, he had imagined cradling Elizabeth in his arms, but always in the afterglow of their lovemaking. As she snuggled into the crook of his arm, Darcy knew he could love no other as he did, Elizabeth Bennet. She was his soul mate, and he hoped, one day, that she would feel the same about him.

When they drew up at Airwhile House, Darcy was reluctant to wake her, so content had he been with the arrangement, but wake her he must. He bent his head and placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

Elizabeth raised her hand and made as if to brushed away the invisible irritant, then returned to the comfort of Darcy’s embrace.

Again, he kissed her nose, and then softly called,

“Elizabeth my love.”

She stirred a little but did not wake.

Elizabeth’s willingness to snuggle up to him was a dream come true. Filled with a rush of love and desire, he gently brushed her lips with his own.

Elizabeth gave a soft moan as her eyelids fluttered open, bringing him into focus.

“William,” she murmured, her voice husky with longing.

“Elizabeth,” he replied, as he responded to her unspoken invitation and drew her deeper into the circle of his arms. Pausing just long enough to comprehend that she came to him willingly, Darcy smothered her cheeks with tender kisses before claiming the real prize. He cupped her face with his free hand and delivered a passionate kiss that fused their lips together, providing just enough pressure to show her he was in control. As he deepened the kiss, the sweet taste of the lemonade she had drunk earlier, transferred from her mouth to his. Darcy relished her soft, pliant lips, but all too soon a familiar sensation stirred in the pit of his stomach. Hungrily, he took possession of her lips one last time before breaking apart.

Mindful not to cross the point of no return, Darcy drew back, only to feel Elizabeth pull him closer again. Reluctantly he began to withdraw from their embrace, but he was almost undone when he heard Elizabeth whimper with disappointment.

“Soon, my love, soon… ” he said, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth had told the maid not to wait up for her, so when she had finished her toilet and turned down the covers, she was pleased to see a warming pan in her bed.

Even the lateness of the hour could not induce sleep. Elizabeth was reliving every moment of the evening’s events. Darcy knew Elizabeth dearly loved to dance, and by taking her to Almack’s he had ensured she had plenty of chances to indulge. She danced two full sets with him, and four more besides. When she remembered the middle-aged Lord Entwistle’s stream of compliments, she giggled aloud. He had said her hair had a sheen to rival the sun, and her eyes were as dark as molasses. And how could she forget the most ludicrous tribute he had uttered all evening, ‘your lightness of foot, Miss Elizabeth, would rival the toes of a fairy.’ Being a model of decorum and affability, she had smiled and accepted all his outrageous compliments with grace.

As her thoughts turned to the events of the latter part of the evening, Elizabeth closed her eyes, hoping to recapture the essence of their encounter.

She had roused at Darcy’s first attempt to wake her, but she had been so comfortable, wrapped in his arms, that she had chosen to ignore his request. Then, as he tried for a second time, using such a sweet endearment, she had to stifle a smile. His tender words had caused the now recognisable flutter in her stomach to resurface, and she could not deny that she longed for him to kiss her again. She remained still, with baited breath, as she anticipated the delivery of his kiss, only to be disappointed when his lips made contact with the tip of her nose. After what seemed an eternity, he finally brushed her lips with a gentle touch of his mouth. The sigh of longing she had been holding in escaped as she surrendered her mouth to his sweet caress. His feather touch only made her lips ache for more, and she had looked up at him with open invitation…

Elizabeth repeated her call of his name, “William,” and even to her own ears, it was heavy with longing. Her reward had been a shower of delicate kisses around her eyes and temples, until finally, Darcy had returned to her mouth and claimed what she so willingly offered him. All too quickly, though, Darcy had pulled away, leaving her feeling bereft, abandoned even. And when she had tried to encourage him to resume his ministrations by pulling him back into her arms, he had resisted, however reluctantly.

The Countess of Jersey had put it in a nutshell; he was rich, undeniably handsome, and with no hint of a scandal attached to his name. So why then, was she reluctant to admit she had feelings for him? These last weeks, Darcy had proved he could be charismatic, charming, and even playful, and last night's outing was a testament to his ability to be thoughtful. In all respects, he was an excellent match for her, and every woman wanted to get married, didn’t they? She may not be ready to admit it to Darcy, but to herself, she must be true. Over the last week, her feelings toward him had undergone a material change.

Elizabeth had slept for barely six hours when Georgiana came to take her shopping, suggesting they return to Madame Rollini’s’ establishment.

“So soon, already?” Elizabeth asked.

“Madame Josephine is not only famous for her clothes and hot punch, Elizabeth, but she has also led a most exciting life. She regales me with tales of her adventures. Indeed, she is the bravest woman I know,” Georgiana gushed.

Elizabeth gave her a puzzled look.

“What adventures Georgiana? I give you she is French, but she is only a dressmaker, after all.”

Georgiana leant in closer, as if afraid of being overheard.

“Madame Rollini is really the Comtesse Josephine Rollini, and though her husband was twenty years her senior, it had been a real love match. Sadly, her poor husband, the Comte Rollini, did not manage to escape Madame Guillotine. However, before he was captured, he managed to bribe the captain of a fishing boat to bring Madame Josephine to our shores. She arrived with only a handful of clothes and one exquisite necklace, sewn into her corset. With no friends or family in England, she had to find a way to support herself. Fashion was the only thing she knew anything about, so she sold her jewels and set up a small shop. The ladies that work for her are all seamstresses that have also fled the war with France. They are from Paris, Miss Elizabeth, Paris! That is why Madame Rollini is the most sought after modiste in town. Her creations come straight from the French court!” Georgiana exclaimed gleefully.

“I see,” Elizabeth said. “And she had no-one to be her benefactor this side of the channel?”

“No, she used her charm and wit to stay alive until reaching London, where she sold her necklace,” replied Miss Darcy.

Having now learnt about Madame Rollini daring escape from the French Revolutionaries, Elizabeth would view her through new eyes. She could admire a woman with spunk, willing to take a risk to get what she wanted.

They spent a little time looking around the shop until Madame Rollini was free to spend some time with them. Then, sitting behind the partitioning curtain, sipping on a warm glass of punch, Madame Josephine spoke of her life before she came to England. She revealed how it had been love at first sight, and how he made her laugh. As a couple, they were inseparable, but sadly, they had not been blessed with children. They were very happy together and enjoyed an idyllic existence until the revolution started. With the country almost bankrupt, there was no longer enough food to feed the population. The Comte had done all that he could to help his own workers and tenants, but there was never enough for everyone. Madam Rollini did not blame the poor for what happened to her or her country, she blamed the rich, the people of her own class for being greedy and selfish. As the revolution expanded, and more and more of their friends were captured and executed, fleeing the country seemed the only safe option. Unfortunately, as they made their way to the port, the Comte was captured. He insisted that Josephine go on without him, and only later did she learn that he had been executed.

Hearing such tales of terror and hardship, gave Elizabeth new-found respect for the lady who had outrun the French revolutionaries, and in just a few years, made a new and successful life for herself.

Eventually, though, it was time to return to Grosvenor Square. Elizabeth had invited Miss Bingley for afternoon tea, so they must leave promptly. Madame Rollini walked with them to the door and kissed them on both cheeks. However, before they could pass through that portal, Caroline Bingley swept past them and into the shop.

“Miss Darcy,” she said, in her familiar nasal drawl, “how wonderful to see you again.”

No-one, least of all Elizabeth, was pleased to see this lady.

“Miss Bingley,” Georgiana replied with new-found confidence.

Caroline then turned her attention to Elizabeth. Speaking with only thinly veiled contempt, she said,

“Miss Eliza, I find I have a prior engagement this afternoon and must decline your kind invitation.”

Elizabeth gave a tight-lipped smile and replied that she quite understood.

Elizabeth then pretended to be engrossed in a pair of lilac gloves. The invitation to tea had been a pretext to get Caroline within earshot of James. Hoping that once he had heard Miss Bingley’s voice, he could confirm her as Wickham’s accomplice. How was that to be accomplished now?

Elizabeth had to think quickly. Thankfully, Darcy had insisted that James was their escort today. He had been impressed with his actions to protect Elizabeth the other evening. Maybe, she could find a way to smuggle him into the shop, where he would then still have a chance to hear Caroline’s voice.

Georgiana had initially glanced up at Elizabeth hoping she would rescue her from Miss Bingley. Instead, Elizabeth was giving her discreet hand signals, indicating for her to take Miss Bingley deeper into the shop. Georgiana was reluctant, but still, she asked Caroline if she would mind giving her an opinion on a bolt of cloth she was considering purchasing.

The instant Caroline’s back was turned, Elizabeth hurried out of the shop door and beckoned to James.

James hurried to answer Elizabeth’s summons but was embarrassed at what happened next.

Elizabeth took hold of James’s sleeve and pulled him inside the shop. Then, she positioned him in a corner by the window, where he was practically obscured by a dressed mannequin. With his back to the occupants of the shop, he could listen to their conversation without being observed.

“Oh, it is quite nice, in a provincial sort of way, but I fear, my dear Miss Darcy, that you must not take all that Miss Eliza says to heart. This fabric would never do for a soiree or ball in town. Now, this,” she continued as she picked up a garish bolt of turquoise cloth, “would look divine on you.”

Georgiana, who would not be seen dead in the unflattering shade of material, smiled sweetly and nodded as she waited for Elizabeth to usher James back out of the shop.

When Elizabeth popped her head around the shop door and smiled, Georgiana knew it was time to leave. Being braver than she had ever been before where Miss Bingley was concerned, Georgiana said,

“Thank you for your advice, Miss Bingley, but you must excuse us now. Elizabeth and I are having luncheon with William, and you know how he hates to be kept waiting. Good-day.” With that, Georgiana walked over to Elizabeth, linked arms with her and made for the exit.

“Well! Of all the nerve!” Miss Bingley exclaimed

Once outside, Elizabeth looked at James, who eagerly nodded his head in confirmation of her unspoken question; he had positively identified Caroline Bingley as George Wickham’s accomplice!

Darcy was surprised when Elizabeth asked to speak to him privately after luncheon. He knew what he hoped she was about to say but could not let his expectations rise just yet.

He saw Elizabeth settled in a comfortable armchair, then Darcy perched on the corner of his desk and waited for her to speak.

Now that it was time to confess all to Darcy, Elizabeth felt nervous about his reaction. She wet her lips and began by saying,

“Georgiana and I have not been entirely honest about the events of the other evening, Mr Darcy.”

If Darcy was shocked, or disappointed, he did not show it.

“Really, how so?”

“You see, Mr Wickham was not alone in the Hackney when he tried to abduct me. There was someone else in the carriage giving him instructions. Until this morning, I only had my suspicions as to the identity of this person, but now I am certain of it. I can confirm that the identity of George Wickham’s accomplice was,” Elizabeth paused to take a deep breath, before saying,

“Caroline Bingley.”

“Caroline Bingley? Are you certain?” Darcy asked with incredulity.

“Oh, yes. Your footman confirmed my suspicions this morning.”

“Damn and blast, Elizabeth! How could you keep this from me?” Darcy exploded before reining in his anger.

“Forgive me, but this complicates everything. With Charles and Miss Bennet’s upcoming marriage, we will be irrevocably bound to the Bingley family, including Caroline.”

Darcy ran his hands through his hair as he paced the room.

“I must send an express to Charles at once.”

Darcy stopped suddenly and turned to face Elizabeth.”

“Is this everything? You are holding nothing else back from me?”

Elizabeth looked a little shamefaced but steadfastly returned his gaze.

“There is nothing more to tell, you have my word.”

“Then you will excuse me, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth left Darcy, knowing he would now write to Mr Bingley. Poor Jane. Darcy was right, everything now seemed tainted with hate and revenge. How could they ever get past this and live in harmony, knowing what Caroline had tried to do?

Chapter Eighteen

Darcy had despatched an express to Charles at Netherfield within an hour. In it, he urged Mr Bingley to come to Airwhile House immediately.

Dear Charles,

Something of a most serious nature has occurred,

and I must insist that you join me at Airwhile House without delay.

There is the possibility it will affect both yours and my future happiness.

I cannot write more now but will elaborate in person.

Tell no-one the nature of this missive.

Your friend

Fitzwilliam Darcy

On Darcy’s advice, Elizabeth had not mentioned Caroline’s betrayal in her letters home. He had indicated that he hoped the matter could be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction with as few people as possible knowing. Elizabeth could not see how this would be accomplished but had not voiced her doubts. She knew Mr Darcy to be a powerful and resourceful man. If anyone could sort this mess out, it was him.

Charles Bingley arrived at Airwhile house a little after ten the next morning.

Darcy’s letter had apparently alarmed him, and he quickly sought him out in the breakfast room.

“Darcy, what’s happened? Is everyone well? Your letter gave me quite a scare, but I see you and Miss Elizabeth are quite well. And your sister?” Bingley asked hurriedly as he acknowledged Elizabeth’s presence with a brief incline of his head.

Darcy stood and greeted Charles with a warm handshake.

“My sister is quite well, thank you, Charles. Come, let’s adjourn to the study, we won’t be disturbed there.”

Elizabeth watched the two men leave the room. She wondered how Darcy would break the news to his friend. It was a task she did not envy.

Immediately after the door closed behind him, Charles turned to Darcy and asked,

“What the devil is going on, Darcy? When I read your letter, I imagined all kinds of tragedies, but I arrive here to find everyone one is quite well?”

Darcy had wrestled with his conscience all night about how much he should reveal to his naive young friend, but, as disguise of any sort was abhorrent to him, he finally resolved that he must tell him everything. Even Georgiana’s foiled elopement.

Charles listened in stunned silence, and when Darcy finally revealed the name of Wickham’s accomplice, his blood began to boil. He thought Caroline was up to something when she asked for an advance on her allowance. But this! He had never imagined it would be something so sinister. He instantly saw the ramification it could have on his association with Jane and the Bennet family. Indeed, Mr Bennet would be well within his rights to retract his consent, thus ending any hope of marriage for both Darcy and himself. Even though Jane was of age and could marry at will, he knew she would not go against her father’s wishes.

Once, many years ago, Caroline had been a sweet-natured girl, eager to please and happy to help. Then, as their father’s fortune increased, and they moved up the social ladder, she started to shun all her old friends. Eventually, she blanked their humble beginnings from her memory, and discarded and denied everyone they had known before they had become wealthy and moved to the capital.

And now, she had sunk just about as low as she could get. Charles was at a loss. How could ever he make amends for what she had tried to do to Elizabeth?

“Charles?” Darcy repeated.

“Oh, yes?” replied Bingley.

Darcy was vexed at having to repeat all that he had just said, but Bingley must be the one to decide and resolve the course of action they must take.

“I said, I think we have a few options open to us. However, they all depend on two things. Whether your sister is still willing to heed your advice, or, whether she is in love with Wickham and now defers to him. If it is the latter, I’m afraid our task will be a much hard one.”

Charles already knew the answer to this question. Caroline was only interested in money and position. As a penniless deserter, Wickham would mean nothing to her, he was merely a pawn she had used to clear her path to Darcy. Without asking Darcy, Charles knew Caroline only had two options open to her. Either she must marry, or she must retire from society. Somehow Charles couldn’t see his materialistic sister opting to give up all her worldly possessions to enter a convent.

“We both know what must be done. First, I will demand an explanation from Caroline regarding her appalling lack of judgement. Then, I will give her the option of either a convent or marriage. Do you have anyone suitable in mind, Darcy?” Charles said.

Darcy felt for his friend. The pained look on his face revealed the depth of his despair. Not for the first time, Darcy was thankful for how Georgiana had turned out.

“I do, as it happens. Do you recall when we stayed with Lord Byron at Newstead Abbey? The Earl of Standing was there with his eldest son, Henry. The tall, silent youth who spoke only when he deemed a reply was necessary? Well, he is looking for a wife. He has indicated that he is not interested in tying himself to a vain debutante with nothing in her head. He is looking for a woman who is as determined and as passionate about building his estate, as he is. However, the drawback, if you can call it that, is that he shuns London society, preferring to spend the year moving between his many country estates. Caroline will want for nothing, and he is not unpleasant to look at. What do you think? Should I contact him?”

Charles recalled the young man with perfect clarity. He would have been considered a catch if he had not been labelled a recluse by the Ton.

“No, thank you, Darcy. I will invite him to an intimate card party. If I ensure the other guests are either old or already married, hopefully, Henry and Caroline will be drawn to each other,” Charles said.

“Do you want me to attend, Charles?”

“No, I think not, Darcy. Against you, poor Henry Standing will pale into insignificance. Caroline wouldn’t give him a second glance.”

Charles gave a heartfelt sigh, and then thanked Darcy for giving him the opportunity to deal with Caroline, rather than turning her over to the magistrate.

Later that day, Darcy received a note.

Darcy,

I have arranged the card party for tomorrow evening.

At first, Caroline denied all knowledge of an association

with Wickham, but when pressed, she confessed all.

It is many years since I saw my sister cry.

I think she is truly sorry, Darcy.

When presented with the choice of either a magistrate,

a convent, or marriage, naturally she chose the latter.

I have instructed her to sever all connection with Wickham

instantly, citing that Henry would not tolerate a woman

whose character bore a blemish. I also threatened to cut

her off financially. In that, I reminded her that only, marriage

would release her twenty-thousand- pound dowry,

I believe she seemed genuinely interested in meeting

young Standing.

I hope, no, I pray, the outcome will be favourable.

Your friend

Charles Bingley

Two days later, it was a shock to both Elizabeth and Darcy, when Charles came to call with his sister Caroline in tow. She walked meekly behind him, and her gaze was downcast. Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice that she had on a pretty floral dress, and her hair was dressed in a softer style, with small ringlets dancing at the nape of her neck and tiny curls clinging to her temples.

“Darcy, Miss Elizabeth, how good it is to see you both. It is a fine day for visiting one’s friends, is it not, Caroline?” Mr Bingley asked confidently.

“Indeed, it is, Charles, a very fine day,” Caroline replied in a subdued voice.

Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged a quizzical look. The transformation of Miss Bingley seemed to be of the acutest kind.

What had brought about this dramatic change in her?

Charles looked down at his sister, but she would not meet his eye. Finally, with a hint of exasperation in his voice, he said,

“I think Caroline has something to say to you both, isn’t that so, Caroline?”

After a false start, Miss Bingley quietly began to speak.

“I have come to offer you both my most sincere apologies. Mr Darcy, I cannot deny that in the past, I did harbour feelings for you, but now I understand that they were entirely unrequited. Upon your betrothal to Miss Eliza, those feeling turned to resentment, and I sought to hurt you both. Foolishly, I shared my ire with George Wickham, who then convinced me the only solution was to abduct you, Miss Eliza. I was mad with jealousy and thought with you out of the way, Mr Darcy would turn to me. He was wrong, I was wrong. I’ve been so stupid and hateful, but I have seen the error of my ways, and I am determined to become a new, and better person. I am deeply ashamed of my actions and can only beg your forgiveness.”

There was a stunned silence in the morning room at Airwhile House.

In all the time Darcy had been acquainted with the Bingleys, he had never once witnessed Caroline Bingley make an apology or act with such contrition. He was, for once, speechless.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, who was no stranger to squabbling females, understood perfectly. Caroline had found a new direction for her feelings.

“Miss Bingley, it was brave of you to come and deliver such a sincere apology in person, and as I think you truly mean it, I am happy to accept it and offer you my hand in friendship.” Elizabeth stood up and held out her hand to Caroline.

Caroline Bingley was amazed that Elizabeth would be so generous after all that had transpired between them. Charles has insisted that it would be so, but foolishly she had judged Elizabeth by her own standards.

Nervously, Caroline stretched out her arm and accepted Elizabeth’s hand. Charles had been right about everything. Elizabeth’s forgiveness was charity itself, and Caroline felt the unfamiliar sting of tears as her eyes welled up for the second time in a week.

Darcy, who had watched with incredulity, eventually came to his senses.

“If indeed you are as sincere as your words sound, then your transgressions can be assigned to the past. Unfortunately, it is not in our human nature to forget such things, but as Elizabeth has so eloquently put it, it is in our power to forgive.” Darcy saw a glistening tear escape from the corner of her eye as her lower lip began to tremble.

“Do you intend to offer Georgiana the same courtesy?” he asked.

Caroline retrieved a handkerchief from her reticule and dashed away the solitary tear before nodding in the affirmative.

“Elizabeth, would you mind taking Miss Bingley to see Georgiana? I wish to speak to Charles on another matter,” Darcy instructed.

Elizabeth led Caroline upstairs to where Miss Darcy was practising on the pianoforte, and then discreetly slipped out and went to her own room. It pleased her to know that such an unsavoury business had been righted before she returned home. Elizabeth couldn’t believe she had only two days left before she must return to Longbourn. But she would not be sad, for there was so much she had to tell her dear sisters.

As soon as the door had closed behind the ladies, Darcy blurted out,

“I am all astonishment at the transformation of your sister, Charles. What the devil happened last evening?”

Bingley smiled and tapped the side of his nose, indicating it was in confidence.

“Of course, man, now don’t keep me in suspense.”

“It was the damnedest thing I have ever witnessed, Darcy. Caroline was standing by the fireplace, waiting to greet our guests. Young Henry Standing was the first to arrive. As he received Caroline’s hand and bowed over it, her knees almost gave way under her. Henry put his arm around her waist, to steady her, and Caroline almost swooned away, right in front of him. Well, I rushed forward to offer my assistance, but Henry brushed me away, saying he would take care of Miss Bingley. I’ve never seen anything like it!” Charles exclaimed as he acted out each scene.

“Like what?” Darcy asked, confused by the toing and froing of Charles’s delivery.

“Why, love at first sight of course,” Bingley replied.

Chapter Nineteen

“Help me, please help me!”

Elizabeth flayed her head from side to side, as she dreamt of George Wickham and Caroline Bingley. She screamed for help, but no-one heard her. As she increased her efforts to break free from their clutches, she writhed beneath her covers, all the while calling for help.

Finally, as a scream that was not her own pierced her into consciousness, and Elizabeth instantly realised it was not a dream.

Clad only in her nightgown, she rushed out of her room at Airwhile House and into the hallway. As she padded towards Georgiana’s room, the call for help grew louder.

Elizabeth rushed to the door and tapped on it several times.

“Georgiana, wake up,” Elizabeth said, thinking her friend was having a nightmare.

“Help me, Elizabeth, please help….”

Elizabeth’s concern was at a premium now, as Georgiana’s broken sobbed became muffled. Something was wrong.

Rushing into the room, Elizabeth expected to see Georgiana in her bed, but it was empty, and the covers were scattered on the floor.

Then a movement by the window caught her eye, and a chill went down her spine. The curtains were billowing out as the cold night air rushed in and standing before it was two people. Georgiana, and an unshaved man in dirty clothes who had his hand firmly clamped over Georgiana’s mouth. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed into his hand, and her eyes were wide with fear. Elizabeth felt there was something familiar about the man, and she peered harder at his features. As the realisation hit her, Elizabeth gasped out in horror when she finally recognised who it was.

George Wickham!

“Step back Miss Bennet. No-one will be harmed if you do as I say. Miss Darcy is coming with me. We are to be married, don’t you know. Is that not so, my love?” he said half in triumph and half in threat.

Georgiana pleaded with her eyes for Elizabeth’s help.

Elizabeth, scared for their safety, did as he ordered and took a step back.

Feeling bolder, Wickham shoved his captive in the back, and they both stumbled forward a few steps.

Instinctively, Elizabeth knew he was heading for the door. Somehow, she must block their exit, or at the very least, stall them until help could arrive. Her mind raced as she tried to conjure up a reason to delay them.

Then Wickham said,

“Step aside, Miss Bennet. It’s Georgiana I want.”

Frantically, Elizabeth said the only thing she thought plausible.

“Mr Wickham, you cannot take Miss Darcy into the street in her night clothes, she must get dressed. Let me help her, it will take but a moment.”

Wickham seemed unconvinced and pushed forward another step.

“You will only succeed in drawing attention to yourselves if she goes out on the street looking like this,” Elizabeth pleaded.

At first, Wickham eyed her with suspicion but must then have seen the logic behind her words.

“Do as she say, my love. Get dressed, but hurry,” he barked at them.

Wickham shoved Georgiana forward, and she fell into Elizabeth's outstretched arms, sobbing even louder.

Elizabeth wrapped a protective arm around her friend shoulder and tried to comfort her.

“Shh, come now, Miss Darcy, we must hurry and get you dressed,” she said aloud, then whispered in Georgiana’s ear,

“If there is a lock on your dressing room door, just nod.”

Georgiana nodded.

“Be ready to follow me,” Elizabeth added.

“Stop whispering, just get on with it before I change my mind!” Wickham barked.

Elizabeth gave a nervous smile,

“May I dress Miss Darcy in private?”

Wickham hesitated, so to add weight to her request, Elizabeth said,

“Miss Darcy is a maiden, sir, and you are still a gentleman, are you not?”

Elizabeth’s ruse to pander to Wickham’s ego had worked.

With a flick of his head, Wickham indicated for them to go into the dressing room.

It seemed to take them forever to cover the few steps to reach the adjoining chamber, but finally, they closed the door behind them. Elizabeth quickly turned the key in the lock and then pulled Georgiana away from the door. She expected Wickham would try to force it open, and she was unsure of the mechanisms strength and whether it would survive the onslaught.

Only when he heard the key being turned in the lock did Wickham realised he’d been duped. Well, that was the last mistake he would make.

“Open this door, NOW!” he shouted as he banged his fists on the heavy wooden door. He tried to force it by hurling his body against it, but it was of solid construction and did not give way.

After several minutes of cursing and demanding they come out, it went quiet.

Elizabeth and Georgiana sat huddled in the corner next to a large, heavy wardrobe, their arms wrapped around each other. In one hand, Elizabeth held a dainty pair of scissors she had snatched off the dresser. Their baited breath came in shallow bursts as they strained to hear what Wickham was doing.

Suddenly from the other side of the door, they heard raised voices.

“So, Wickham, you finally show your true colours. I knew that one day you would drop the façade and reveal the true you. A degenerate of the worse kind, one who preys on defenceless women.”

Elizabeth and Georgiana looked at each other in disbelief as they recognised the voice from the other side of the door.

It was Darcy.

Together, they cautiously crept towards the locked door and listened.

“There is no escape for you, Wickham. Give yourself up peacefully, and I will ask the magistrate to be lenient with you,” Darcy said as he inched closer to the dressing room door.

“I could have made something of my life, if only you had not been so tight-fisted with your money. It’s not as if you don’t have enough. You could have given me a few hundred pounds a year, and not even missed it,” Wickham retorted with venom.

A few steps more and Darcy had put his body between Wickham and the door concealing Elizabeth and Georgiana.

“Enough now, Wickham,” Darcy said in a masterful tone. “I am bringing the women out. Your argument is with me, not them. We can settle this man to man.”

On hearing no reply from Mr Wickham, Elizabeth cautiously unlocked the door and peered out. Darcy was using his body as a shield between them and Mr Wickham.

Tentative, Elizabeth and Georgiana took a few steps towards the door, only for George Wickham to also advance on Darcy by two steps.

Instantly, Darcy stretched out his arms and pushed the women behind his back.

“Don’t do anything rash, Wickham. There is no reason for anyone to get hurt.”

Wickham looked defeated, and Darcy thought him ready to surrender.

Suddenly, something behind Darcy caused Wickham to rally.

In the dressing table mirror, Darcy could see what had agitated him. Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived and was blocking the bedroom door, and his sword was drawn; Wickham’s only means of escape had been cut off.

Agitated and scared, Wickham backed up until he felt the edge of the window sill press into his spine. Scouring his vicinity for a weapon, his eyes stopped on the lamp he had used to find his way to Georgiana’s room. Snatching it up, Wickham thrust it forward in a threatening manner. The bright light only accentuated his dishevelled appearance and the wild look in his eyes. He glared at them all.

Turning to Georgiana, he spat,

“You bitch; you should have married me last year. You would have been rid of me once I had your money. Now, no-one will have you.”

Wickham lifted his arm, took a step forward, and threw the lamp at the foot of the bed. As the glass shattered on the wooden bedstead, the oil splattered over the carpet and bed covers. Instantly, the doused blankets caught fire, and as the flames grew, they leapt up the curtains and onto the canopy. Swirls of thick black smoke rose to the ceiling and began to form a cloudlike covering. As Darcy thrust the women in the direction of the open door, Colonel Fitzwilliam pushed past him in an attempt to apprehend Wickham.

Wickham began to laugh hysterically as his eyes darted wildly around the room looking for a means of escape, but there was none. He had trapped himself and only now realised his error.

Then the unthinkable happened. Wickham’s foot caught on the discarded blanket Georgiana had used to cover herself. In a split second, the flames had transferred from the covering and onto his trousers. It quickly burnt through the material and began to eat away at his flesh. He stumbled backwards, screaming in agony as he slapped at his legs with his bare hands in a frantic bid to extinguish the flames, but it was no use. The layers of alcohol-stained cloth that were his shirt and jacket also ignited, and he became engulfed in a ball of fire.

They all watched in horror as he gave one final scream and fell backwards through the open window.

Georgiana, who had been paralysed with fear, began to scream.

Richard dashed forward in a vain effort to grab the falling man, but Darcy pulled him back.

“You are too late, Richard, he has gone. We have to get the women out of here now before the whole house goes up!”

Georgiana was rooted to the spot, and try as she might, Elizabeth could not move her.

Elizabeth began to cough as the smoke descended lower and lower.

Realising there was little time to be wasted if they were to get out alive, Elizabeth did the one thing the men were afraid to do. She slapped Georgiana’s face.

“Forgive me, Miss Darcy, but there is no time to lose.”

Elizabeth took a firm hold of her friend’s hand and pulled her through the door and down the stairs. The housekeeper advanced on them and ushered them through the scurrying servants and out the front door.

An invisible pair of hands placed a blanket around their shoulders, and as the clean cold air invaded their lungs, they both began to cough again.

Elizabeth wrapped Georgiana in a comforting embrace and held her until her cries had turned to dry sobs.

Then Georgiana lifted her head and said,

“Wickham, I…, I never… would … marry…. him,” she managed to say.

“Shh, I know. It’s all over now,” Elizabeth reassured her.

The unmistakable Darcy crest shone brightly on the carriage door that was standing outside Airwhile House. Darcy must have arrived home just as Elizabeth had first heard Georgiana’s cries.

“Georgie, Georgie,” called a panicked man’s voice.

“Oh, Richard, it was awful,” Georgiana cried as she ran into his outstretched arms.

The colonel pulled her to his chest and held her tight. She was safe.

Darcy finally emerged through the front door and scanned the throng of servants and neighbours for Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” he called, trying to suppress the feeling of panic that was rising in his breast.

Miller stepped forward and pointed to a figure a dozen yards along the street. Following his direction, Darcy felt a way of relief wash over him.

Standing away from the chaos, with her back to the throng of people, stood Elizabeth.

He hurried to her side and then stood in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders, scanning her any for signs of injury.

Her silence and trancelike stare, caused him to ask,

“Elizabeth are you hurt?”

But Elizabeth seemed to be looking past him.

Then, very quietly, she said,

“You might ask someone to bring a blanket to cover him. Mr Wickham no longer has any concerns, but Georgiana has been through enough for one night.”

Darcy turned, his eyes searching for what Elizabeth was referring to. Then, when his eyes found it, he drew in a sharp breath. Wickham’s body lay impaled on the house railings. Killed not by the flames, or the two-storey fall, but by the fearsome iron spike that had pierced his heart and now protruded from his chest. A scarlet trickle of blood had escaped from the corner of his mouth and ran up his cheek, to where his unseeing eyes now looked at the star-strewn sky.

“Good Lord!” Darcy said as he spun Elizabeth around to mask her view. He called out to no-one in particular for some assistance, and a footman ran over with a blanket and covered the body.

As the horror of the evening's events dawned on her, Elizabeth began to tremble. She had never seen a dead person before.

She unconsciously accepted Darcy’s comforting actions; her need for reassurance outweighed all thoughts of propriety at this moment.

Darcy held Elizabeth as tight as he could without causing her damage. He had never been so afraid of losing anyone as he had been tonight. Wickham had found Darcy’s weakness and exploited it mercilessly. As he stood on this cold winter night, comforting the woman he loved, Darcy swore to God he would never leave her side again.

After some minutes, he said,

“If you are able to walk, Elizabeth, you must get in the carriage with me,” and he gently steered her along the pavement towards his carriage.

“Your carriage, sir?” she asked absently, her mind still elsewhere.

“We cannot stay here tonight, Elizabeth. I will escort you and Georgiana to Lady Matlock’s house. Although it is only a few streets away, modesty dictates you ride in the carriage.”

In her confused state, Elizabeth mumbled that she dearly loved to walk, but Darcy softly reminded her of her state of undress.

“You are hardly attired to make even the briefest of journeys, my love.”

Once Elizabeth was secured in the warmth of the carriage, Darcy quickly sought out his sister and Richard, who would accompany them to his mother’s house. Darcy was the last to climb into the carriage, and as he settled back into his seat, Elizabeth unconsciously placed her head on his shoulder. Darcy smiled and put his arm around her, drawing her nearer. Glancing over to check Georgiana was also comfortable, he was surprised, and a little shocked, to find her too nestled up in Colonel Fitzwilliam arms.

Chapter Twenty

Georgiana was remarkably bright the next morning. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For a whole year, she had lived in dread that George Wickham would reveal her foolishness to the world. Finally, that thread had gone. Although now only sixteen, she had matured a great deal since the unfortunate incident at Ramsgate. But with Wickham dead, not only was her secret safe, but also the names and reputations of any other lady he had tried to ruin. Plus, her dear brother would no longer have to suffer the continued embarrassment of Wickham’s lies. At last, they could all move forward with their lives. And soon William would be married to Elizabeth, whom she had come to love dearly. Elizabeth had shown her the most extraordinary kindness during their brief acquaintance. She just knew that Elizabeth and her own dear brother, William, were going to be the happiest of couples.

Elizabeth felt a little awkward dressed in one of Georgiana’s beautiful gowns instead of one of her own day dresses, but all her clothes had been at Airwhile House and were now most likely ruined. Apparently, Miss Darcy frequently stayed with Lady Matlock when Darcy was out of town. Therefore, it was practical for her to keep a selection of gowns here. Elizabeth had tried to select one of Miss Darcy’s plainer dresses, but in truth, all of Georgiana’s gowns were beautiful and expensive looking.

Darcy spoke only briefly with his aunt, before returning to Grosvenor Square to assess the damage. Once there, he had also summoned the magistrate to report Wickham’s death. Though Darcy sat on the magistrate’s bench in Derby, he could not rule on a case involving himself.

Answering the magistrate’s questions had been an unpleasant task, but when Darcy explained the series of events leading up to Wickham’s death, the magistrate was happy to rule it was nothing more than a burglary gone wrong. Pleased to have closed the case in just a few hours, he was then happy to leave the disposal of Wickham’s body to Darcy.

Even after all the pain, embarrassment, and expense that Wickham had caused Darcy during his lifetime, he could not leave him to be buried in a pauper’s grave, so far from the place he once called home. Instead, Darcy arranged for his body to be returned to Derbyshire, where it would be buried next to his parents.

Thankfully, the damage to Airwhile House was minimal. Due to Millers routine fire training exercises, the servants had managed to contain the blaze to Georgiana’s suite of rooms and the hallway directly outside.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that the evacuees met again, and Georgiana was overjoyed that William had returned with such good news about the house. Even learning that all her clothes would have to be either thrown away or donated to the poor, did not dampen her spirits. Instead, she had rejoiced at the prospect of a whole new wardrobe.

Darcy was surprised to see how well she was taking Wickham’s death. Though he felt obliged to remind her a man had lost his life, and a little decorum should be observed.

Georgiana linked her arm through Darcy’s and drew him to one side.

“I know you think my behaviour inappropriate, William, and you are probably right, but do you not see, for the first time in forever we are both free from Wickham’s threats. I cannot help but rejoice. You may be sombre and reverent for both of us,” and she gaily skipped back to the table.

Darcy could not be cross with her. She was definitely none the worse for her ordeal, quite the opposite in fact. And, having feared for her sanity only one short year ago, it was indeed good to see her spirits so lifted.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed somewhat subdued. Darcy was surprised that she was taking Wickham’s death so badly. It was true that when Wickham had first arrived in Meryton, Elizabeth displayed a partiality for his company, but Darcy thought it was only a mild infatuation. Could he have been wrong? Was she now pining for a lost love? It pained him to even think such a thing, but he could not deny it. Elizabeth seemed the most affected by the death of George Wickham. If, this was indeed the case, then more importantly, would he ever be able to replace Wickham in her affections?

Elizabeth realised that George Wickham had committed some unforgivable atrocities, but she could not help but think that Darcy’s father had played a part in his downfall. Though she doubted the life of a cleric would have really suited him; his head was so easily turned by a pretty face. Would old Mr Darcy have raised the boy up so high if he had realised the turmoil it would cause in his own children’s lives? This was something she could never know the answer to, but she did know that Darcy’s actions, under the circumstances, had been above reproach. He was indeed, the best man she had ever known.

Unlike many of his contemporaries, Darcy preferred to go for a walk after luncheon rather than indulge in an afternoon nap. Knowing that walking was also one of Elizabeth’s favourite pastimes, he approached her and asked if she would like to join him.

Elizabeth eagerly accepted. So much had happened recently, that it made her realise that every moment spent with a loved one, was precious. In fact, she was hoping she might find the courage to tell Mr Darcy of the change of her affections.

For a few minutes, they walked along the street in silence, neither knowing how to initiate their intended subjects, until finally, Elizabeth said,

“It was kind of your aunt to take us in at such short notice, Mr Darcy, especially considering the lateness of the hour.”

“Yes, but once she knew the particulars, Lady Matlock was happy to do so,” Darcy replied.

“Is there much damage to the house?” Elizabeth enquired.

“No, not an excessive amount. It should take no more than a fortnight to make it habitable again.”

“I will be back at Longbourn before the work is completed.”

“Yes,” Darcy said thoughtfully.

They walked on a little further, both struggling with their thoughts until they came upon a small, stone bench. Instinctively they both sat down and waited for the other to speak.

Finally, Darcy could stand the tension no more and blurted out,

“Elizabeth, I must know, is your melancholy mood because you are now deprived of a future with George Wickham?”

Elizabeth was shocked by his question. Any affection she might have felt for Mr Wickham had evaporated when she discovered his foul misuse of Georgiana. For Mr Darcy to still think she felt some kind of misguided loyalty towards Wickham was unbelievable. Though in truth, Elizabeth had to admit, she had done nothing to dispel his misconception of her relationship with Wickham. She had been silent on too many things.

Compelled to return his gaze, Elizabeth could see the anguish etched on his face, and her heart went out to him. How little men really understood women.

“Let me assure you, Mr Darcy, most ardently, that at no time in the past or present, have I ever wished to bond myself to Mr Wickham, quite the opposite.”

Darcy let her reply wash over him like an embrace. Wickham was not, and never had been, his rival for Elizabeth’s affections. His shoulders visibly slump at her reply.

Had he truly thought she held Wickham in some regards? Though pleased to have eased his suffering, Elizabeth decided it was time to clear the air regarding Wickham’s accusation against Darcy once and for all. After which, they need never speak of him again.

“As we are being completely honest with each other, Mr Darcy, I too have a question. Why did you deny Mr Wickham your father's bequest, and not give him the promised living? His life might have turned out very differently had you honoured this request.”

It was time to make a clean breast of everything. Darcy wanted no secrets between them once they were married.

“I have no doubt that when Wickham told you his tale of mistreatment at my hands, he sounded very plausible. Unfortunately, my dear girl, he was as much a stranger to the truth as you are to a tavern. Not only did I give him the one thousand pounds promised by my late father, but when he came to me and declared he wanted to practise law instead of being a preacher, I compensated him the full worth of the living.” Darcy rubbed his brow wearily and sighed.

“I gave him three thousand pounds, Elizabeth, four including the inheritance money. A fortune for a single man to fritter away in just a few years, don’t you agree?”

Not for the first time, Elizabeth recognised how Wickham had played her for a fool. Apparently, everything he had ever told her about Mr Darcy and his sister was a lie. When she remembered how vehemently she had defended Wickham at Mr Bingley’s ball, she blushed scarlet. Her words must have wounded Darcy deeply, and yet he had never reproached her for it.

Darcy completely misunderstood Elizabeth’s continued silence. He surmised she was missing her family and longing to go home. After all, her time with him had hardly been pleasurable. First Hurst and Lady Catherine, then Caroline and Wickham. In her eyes, his family must cast a long shadow of disappointment, when compared to her own.

Another few minutes had passed before either of them spoke, and then it was Darcy who broke the silence.

“I will arrange for your return to Longbourn first thing tomorrow morning. I expect you would like to spend some time with your family. I have also taken the liberty of writing to Madame Rollini this morning. I have asked her to compile a new wardrobe for you; it’s the least I can do.”

Elizabeth knew the moment to reveal her altered feelings had passed, but there was still a week before the wedding.

“Yes,” she murmured. “I would like to see my family, especially Jane.”

“Yes,” Darcy echoed, “it is as I thought.”

Solemnly, they made their way back to the house.

Chapter Twenty-One

Elizabeth’s early return to Longbourn had caused quite a stir. Though only one day before her time, Mrs Bennet immediately jumped to the conclusion that Elizabeth had somehow upset, Mr Darcy. She accused her of forcing him to call off the wedding, which would explain why he had sent her home.

Mr Bennet and Jane, on the other hand, could not hide their enthusiasm at Elizabeth’s return, for whatever the reason.

Mary, Lydia and Kitty seemed utterly indifferent about their sister’s arrival, early or not.

Once all the welcomes and reassurances that the wedding was still going ahead were complete, Jane and Elizabeth managed to escape upstairs.

Jane immediately bombarded Elizabeth with a multitude of questions, starting with,

“Have you heard? Mr Wickham is dead, a duel they say. Aunt Philips heard it from Lady Lucas, who heard it from Sir William, who read about it in the papers. Is it true, Lizzy?”

It never ceased to surprise Elizabeth at how quickly gossip could be spread or, in this case, like a game of Chinese Whispers, how the truth could be grossly distorted. However, as Mr Darcy had not given her permission to reveal his sister’s involvement with Mr Wickham, she could only tell Jane the edited version of events.

“That is not quite what happened, Jane, although it is a far kinder version of the facts than the truth,” Elizabeth said. “It appears that Mr Wickham deserted his regiment and then fell on hard times. In desperation, he sought to fill his pockets at the expense of Mr Darcy and broke into his townhouse. Not being a thief by profession, he was soon detected by one of the servants, and they raised the alarm. Unfortunately, as he tried to flee capture a lamp was knocked over. Mr Wickham found himself trapped by the flames. He tried to climb out of a window, but it was two floors up. I’m told he died instantly.”

Jane gasped when she heard how Mr Wickham had met his end and seemed genuinely upset.

Elizabeth did not want to dwell on such things. It brought the gruesome image of the impaled body of Mr Wickham flooding back. Therefore, to entertain both Jane and herself, Elizabeth recalled the tales told her by Madame Rollini.

When Elizabeth joined the family for breakfast the next morning, it was as if she had never been away. Mr Bennet had finished his breakfast and was now hiding behind his paper in the hope to avoid conversation with his wife. Too long he had had to listen to the virtues of this colour silk and that style lace. While Mrs Bennet chatted endlessly about weddings and the extra work it had placed on her shoulders.

Mary, Kitty and Lydia were talking about nothing in particular, while Jane just wanted breakfast to be over, so she could go and write to Mr Bingley, who had remained in London.

The signal that breakfast was over was when Mr Bennet disappeared from the table to speak to Mr Hill about estate business.

Elizabeth felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over her as she watched her family like an observer. She missed the hustle and bustle of Longbourn, but at the same time, she missed the quiet and refined atmosphere of Airwhile House.

Deciding she needed some fresh air to clear her mind, Elizabeth selected a book from her father’s study and then made her way to the wilderness garden.

She sat on the stone bench at the end of the garden, rested her head back and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the clean country air. The wilderness garden, as this area of the Longbourn estate, was often referred to, was Elizabeth’s favourite place. She came here often to enjoy some peace and quiet, away from her family, who rarely ventured this far from the house. They preferred the well-tended areas of the garden instead. But this small enclosure was mostly left untended, once the autumn leaves had begun to fall.

Elizabeth watched as a male robin and red squirrel foraged under the carpet of red and golden leaves, as they competed for the tastiest berries and fallen hazelnuts. It was good to be out of the city and back in the country. The pace of life was slower, and everyone was happy to pass the time of day with you.

Some minutes passed before Elizabeth opened her book and began to read. She soon realised that she had read and re-read the same line again and again. Frustrated at her own lack of concentration, she shut the book and placed it on the bench beside her. A certain gentleman seemed to be invading her thought with alarming regularity. Recalling his image, she wondered that she had ever thought so ill of him? He really was everything she desired in a husband. Handsome, amenable, witty, thoughtful, reliable…, the list of his qualities was endless. Even now, though he was miles away, her heart ached for his company.

“May I join you?”

“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, blushing furiously to find the object of her affections standing close to her side.

Darcy picked up Elizabeth’s discarded book and sat beside her.

He had intended to wait until the day before their wedding to return to Hertfordshire, giving Elizabeth ample time to recover from her ordeal. However, Georgiana and Richard had begun to display their feelings for each other openly, which only emphasised how much he missed Elizabeth. Oh, there were a dozen reasons he could have used for keeping him in the city. The repairs to the house, to question Richard about his intentions towards Georgiana, or to arrange Wickham’s repatriation to Pemberley. But the truth was, he was miserable without Elizabeth. This past fortnight together had only seen his love and admiration for Elizabeth deepen. He no longer wanted to deny the true extent of his feelings for her; he wanted to celebrate them.

They would be married, as planned, in just a few days, but Elizabeth had yet to reveal the degree of her regard for him. To this day, she had never actually spoken any words of affection to him. Which left him with one question. Did, or would, Elizabeth, ever return his love?

Elizabeth hoped the pounding in her chest was not visible as her heart raced at the unexpected arrival of Mr Darcy. If she needed confirmation of her new-found regard for him, this physical exhibition must surely be it.

“Mr Darcy…”

“Elizabeth…”

They both said at the same time. The ice was broken, and they both smiled.

Darcy could not contain himself any longer, and spoke with haste,

“Elizabeth, in a few days, we will be man and wife. I understand that our betrothal came as an unwelcome shock to you, and I also realise my proposal was woefully lacking in all areas. I am ashamed to recall what I said to you, though my sentiment was genuine. Nevertheless, I had hoped, that in time, you would return some of that regard. My intention was for us to spend this last fortnight together, to become better acquainted before the wedding. I wanted you to know the real me, not the wary persona I present to strangers and new acquaintances. However, fate seemed to have other plans for us, and it has not quite turned out as I expected.” Darcy paused to gather his thoughts, then, choosing his words with extra care, he continued,

“Though, at the risk of being indelicate, I would remind you that we have enjoyed a few moments of quiet intimacy. There appeared no negative repercussions then, or since, and this has given me cause to hope. Since you left Airwhile House, Elizabeth, I have found that nothing is the same. The house is just a house, breakfast is just food, and even reading holds no pleasure for me.”

At this point, Darcy put Elizabeth’s book aside and knelt on the damp leaves before her. Taking hold of Elizabeth’s hand, he placed it over his heart and held it there with his own.

“Elizabeth, I love you, I miss you. I want to show the world how much I love you, that you are my reason for living. But unless you return my affection, I must be silent on this matter forever. Therefore, I have come to ask you again, with no reference to your father, only from my own heart, will you consent to be my wife, Elizabeth, of your own free will, to come to me with a full and equal heart?”

Elizabeth felt a rush of emotion. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, but she had the breath for neither. How her feelings had changed in such a short period of time, she did not know, but change they had? Only a few weeks ago her pledge to marry for only the deepest kind of love had seemed an impossibility, but now, with her heart about to burst with love and affection, her dream had come true. Fitzwilliam Darcy loved her, and she loved him.

Now, more than anything, she wanted to feel Darcy’s arms around her, to let his lips take possession of her mouth in the most unladylike fashion.

But first, she must remove her mask of indifference and reveal her true feelings to him.

Lifting Darcy’s hand, she placed it over her own heart, anxious that he too could feel how wildly her heart raced.

“Elizabeth?” Darcy questioned, unwilling to make the same mistake twice.

“I cannot remember the day or the time nor the look or the words, that laid the foundation of my affection. I was in the middle before I knew it had begun. But I know now, that I love you, so very dearly. My answer is yes, a thousand times, yes, Fitzwilliam. I would be honoured to marry you,” Elizabeth replied breathlessly.

In a flurry of movement, Darcy rose and swept Elizabeth up into his arms, twirling them both around as they laughed happily together. Then, as Darcy gently lowered Elizabeth back to the ground, their mood turned to one more of romance.

Darcy paused to brush a stray curl from her face, and then, as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers, he whispered,

“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

Epilogue

Five days, they had been married five whole days before Darcy had made her his wife, and now she understood the physical enjoyment that came with being married; she couldn’t be happier.

On the eve of their wedding, Darcy had taken her to one side and tenderly explained that he wanted them to wait until they arrived at Pemberley before they first joined together, physically, after they were married.

“My darling, I had intended for us to spend our first night as man and wife at Airwhile house, but as you are aware, that is not possible now. Knowing of our predicament, Charles offered us the use of Netherfield House until we moved to my estate in the north, but again, it was not how I wanted us to begin our life together.” He paused to lift her chin and place a gentle kiss on her soft lips.

Elizabeth knew that her future husband was only thinking of her, but if not Airwhile, or Netherfield Park then where were they to start their life together? Surely, he could not be thinking of here, at Longbourn with her family around them?

“Then…here, at Longbourn?”

Darcy’s tone and words expressed perfectly what he thought of that idea.

“Good God, Elizabeth, Longbourn is that last place I would consummate our union!”

She blushed as a wave of relief washed over her when he ruled out her family home, but she could think of nowhere else for them to go, except…,

“Then perhaps an Inn?” she asked nervously.

Darcy ran his hand over her cheek and then cupped her face in his palm.

“No, my love. A roadside Inn, even if well run and recommended, is not a fit place to start ones married life. No, I have given this matter much thought, Elizabeth, and come to realise that in truth, we have spent very little time alone together, even while in London it was not above a few hours at most.”

Elizabeth agreed. Things had not gone well during her stay in the capital, and apart from their one night at Almack’s, they had always had a chaperone in the form of Georgiana or Richard.

“I thought, with your agreement, Elizabeth, that we might journey directly to Pemberley after the wedding breakfast.”

Elizabeth was taken aback by his statement.

“How…how long will it take?”

“Four, maybe five days if you would like to visit some of the grand houses along the way.”

Elizabeth lowered her head. Was it normal to wait so long to become man and wife in the full sense of the words? She did not think so. But it was a subject she could not raise, even with her future husband. It would be unthinkable for a lady to mention the marriage bed, even if one thought about it!

“And this is what you want, sir?” she quietly asked.

Darcy had tried to convey his intention to her with discretion but had made a bad job of it. Now, through no fault of her own, Elizabeth, feared he no longer found her desirable. Little did she realise that nothing could be further from the truth. His passion and desire for her burned as bright as ever, coursing through his veins like hot lava, but still, he could not deny they were all but strangers.

This time, as they made their way north, could be used to become better acquainted, to be friends before they became lovers. It was not ideal, yet he thought it a workable solution to their current predicament. Besides, it had been his experience in the past that to enjoy the act of lovemaking, it was essential to be on more intimate terms with your partner than he currently was with Elizabeth. He wanted to slowly awaken her to the pleasure that a man could give to a woman, and not feel ashamed or embarrassed by it.

“No, not really,” he said with a rueful smile, “but I think we could make good use of the time. To become better acquainted, more…comfortable with one another.”

Finally, Elizabeth understood his meaning and felt a surge of love at his thoughtfulness.

“Then I think it is a splendid idea, too,” she said, and she meant it.

So, after the couple had waded through the vast numbers of farewells they had to endure, it was finally time to escape from Longbourn and set off on their journey north.

It had been a long day, and as the carriage made its way along the roads, the fading light together with the gentle swaying of the vehicle, soon made Elizabeth’s eyelids droop.

Darcy, who cradled her in his arms, placed a tender kiss on her hair and held her even tighter, happy and content to watch over her as she slept.

On each of their four-day journey, Darcy took Elizabeth the visit one of the grand houses along their route. Conveniently, he was acquainted with all the owners, and though he had the offer to stay with them all, Darcy elected to lodge at the upmarket inns alone their way. His reason, he explained to Elizabeth, was in his opinion, there was no other group of people worse for gossiping than the nobility. And he did not want them to be the topic of conversation at anyone’s dinner table.

First, they visited Althorp in Nottinghamshire, where Darcy chatted amicably to George Spencer, the second Earl of Althorp. Next, they paused to enjoy a brief tour of Belton House, owned at this time by, John Cust, the newly appointed First Earl of Brownlow. Unfortunately, he was away from home when they called. And finally, they visited Chatsworth House, where the sixth Duke of Devonshire, William Cavendish, personally accompanied them as they wandered around the house and gardens.

On the evening of the fourth day of their journey, they arrived at Darcy’s ancestral home; Pemberley.

The servants, headed by Mr and Mrs Reynold, lined the steps leading up to the main doors, each offering their congratulations and good wishes as Darcy and Elizabeth acknowledged their welcome.

Now they were here, Darcy wanted to show his wife everything, to spend every second with her, and lavish her with all his love and attention.

“I’ve had a light supper prepared, sir, and will bring it up to your sitting room when convenient,” said Mrs Reynolds tactfully.

“Thank you, Mrs Reynolds, but I believe we would like to wash away the dust from the road first,” he said.

“I suspected as much sir. There is a tub of hot water in both your dressing rooms.” The housekeeper turned to address Elizabeth now, saying, “I have allocated Milly to act as your lady’s maid, Mrs Darcy, at least until you make your own selection.”

Acknowledging her kindness, Darcy and Elizabeth then mounted the stairs. He led her to her suite of rooms and waited as she took a few minutes to look around the bedchamber. Then he gave her a tour of her dressing room and on to their shared sitting room.

“And my accommodation,” he said in a low tone, “is through this door.”

Elizabeth slipped in front of him and opened the door. First, to observe his dressing room and then to explore his bedroom.

It was masculine, which was to be expected, but not completely without a woman’s touch. A vase of flowers stood on the sideboard, a dusky pink chaise lounge rested along one wall, while the bed has a cream and gold topper. These feminine touches, she guessed, were the work of Mrs Reynolds. She liked it, which was probably just as well. She had a feeling this would be where she would spend most of her nights.

“Now,” he said, “I think it is time to take advantage of Mrs Reynolds forethought. When you have finished bathing, I will have supper brought up to the sitting room.”

Elizabeth smiled, looking up at him through her long eyelashes, then hurried back to her room.

Darcy, meanwhile, rang for Fletcher.

Elizabeth again looked down at her sleeping husband. This is my husband.

In repose, his face was relaxed and looked softer, more boy like than an adult man. The growth of a full night’s stubble cast a dark shadow on his cheeks and chin and upper lip, yet it did nothing to detract from his handsome, chiselled features. Only one stray curl fell across his otherwise clear forehead, daring to break ranks and single itself out for her attention. She brushed it back into place, then held her breath as Darcy stirred at her touch.

He rolled over and clamped his arm around her waist, drawing her near to him.

Elizabeth smiled to herself. It felt so natural to be drawn into his embrace. To feel his naked skin on hers, and his warm breath on her face.

She leant forward and placed a feather light kiss on his lips, hoping not to disturb him. They had spent half of the night making love and the other half talking.

“Unless you want me to make love to you again, Elizabeth, I suggest you desist with your present course of action,” he said, his eyes still shut tightly, but with a smile on his lips.

Having been awakened to the pleasures of lovemaking, both for a man and for a woman, Elizabeth knew exactly what she was doing when she again, kissed her husband on the mouth, then gave his lip a soft tug with her teeth.

Darcy opened his eyes just enough to see the playful invitation that danced over Elizabeth’s face.

“You minx,” he said in a teasing voice, “now you must pay the price.”

Darcy was fully awake now and rolled atop of his wife in one seamless move.

Elizabeth squealed with laughter, pulling him towards her, and searching for his lips with her own.

Someday soon, they must get up and face the world, but for now, and several days more, Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy stayed confined to their rooms. Learning to love, and making love to each other, until death does them part.

The End

Mr Darcy’s Struggle

Elizabeth felt tense as they approached Lucas Lodge. Darcy had insisted that she rode with him and Georgiana. She was pleased with not having to endure the overcrowding of the Bennet carriage, and she must get used to travelling with Darcy, but still, the closeness of him tonight made her uneasy. His dark, penetrating eyes rarely left her face. She had tried to make polite conversation with them both, but Georgiana was too excited at the prospect of attending a real ball, and Darcy was unwavering in his attention and replied only curtly. As they pulled up to the entrance, the footman jumped down to help the ladies out of the carriage, but Darcy brushed him aside and completed the task himself.

Once inside and relieved of their cloaks, Darcy admired Elizabeth’s gown. The underlayer was pure white and reached the floor, where her matching slippers peeped out. The sheer overlayer was decorated with small silver flowers and leaves, intricately woven into the fabric. Her dark locks were in the Grecian style with silver-headed pins holding it in place. She was stunning; he was under no illusion that he would be the envy of every man here tonight. He glanced around the room, and then frowned; there were too many people, too many men. The prospect of other men coveting his fiancée was extremely distasteful to him.

He must also be circumspect over Georgiana. As she was not yet ‘out,’ Darcy should have refused her plea to accompany them, but he saw no harm in her attending a small family gathering. Of course, she would not be able to dance with anyone other than Richard and himself, but she was content with this arrangement. Her delicate features glowed with excitement, and it made her look younger than her sixteen years. The delicate gown of lemon, with small green vines growing up from the hem, suited her perfectly. He would have his work cut out this evening, ensuring the wellbeing of both his ladies. As usual, Darcy was dressed impeccably, with his waistcoat complementing Elizabeth’s dress perfectly, embroidered with a pattern of silver knots.

Sir William and Lady Lucas greeted them, offering felicitations on their upcoming nuptials. Then Sir William bade them enjoy their last night as single people, and he winked at Darcy. It was kindly meant, but inappropriate with two unwed females at his side. Sir William tended to put into words, sentiments that should remain thoughts, but his jolly demeanour showed it was said in jest, and not with malice. Charlotte and Mr Collins welcomed them next, and Darcy’s brow furrowed again. He offered the clergyman the curtest of nods in acknowledgement of his greeting, then swept the women into the ballroom. Elizabeth was mortified that he had let Mr Collins’s presence affect him so. She alone understood the reason behind his action, yet to others, it would appear as though he had been excessively rude. She would have to remind him that his actions now reflected on her, too.

It turned out to be more than the intimate gathering she had been led to believe, but at least most of the guests were friends or family. Spying Colonel Fitzwilliam, she hoped he would ask her to dance; they had enjoyed a warm friendship when both in Kent.

Elizabeth watched as Georgiana gently disengaged herself from her brother’s arm and went to talk to Elizabeth’s younger sisters, who were now standing with Maria Lucas. She felt a pang of envy at how carefree and happy they seemed and longed to join them as they laughed and chatted together. Six short weeks ago, she could have done just that, she thought ruefully.

Elizabeth and Darcy would be expected to open the dancing, but she knew he did not care for such frivolities. Charles had once told her, ‘Darcy never lifts a hoof, even though he is most proficient in all aspects of the dance.’ A sigh escaped her as she realised if Darcy did not take her to the floor, she could accept no other man’s offer. It would be an unpardonable breach of protocol. No, she must resign herself to enjoying it vicariously. Slyly glancing over at her escort, she noted that yes, he was still watching her, only now his piercing stare was accompanied by a smile. As the musicians struck the chords for the minuet, he bowed and asked,

“Miss Bennet, may I have the honour of the first dance?”

Elizabeth was taken aback by his offer, and for a moment, words failed her. Her surprise must have registered on her face, and she stumbled over her reply.

“I did not, that is, I did not think that…. yes, I thank you.”

Darcy raised both brows in a questioning pose and then held out his hand. She placed her hand in his, and mutely they walked to the dance floor. Uncomfortably conscious that all eyes were upon them, Elizabeth realised every step, every expression would be scrutinised by the people assembled. With Darcy’s intense dislike for large gatherings, or being the centre of attention, she felt more than a little nervous. The music started, and they performed the customary salute before meeting, circling, and returning several times as the dance dictated. Fellow revellers slowly joined them, and Elizabeth observed Darcy’s shoulders relax, happier to now be one of many. As the dance continued, she realised Charles was right, Darcy was indeed an excellent dancer and conducted the steps with an easy air.

“Sir, you dance with an abundance of style and grace; why do you dislike it so?” she asked playfully.

“You are mistaken, Madam. I do not dislike dancing; I enjoy it a great deal. It is that I find it difficult to secure a partner who meets my standard,” Darcy said honestly. “I recall the first time I saw you dance; it was with the imbecile Collins. He was out of time, and trod on your slipper, dislodging a flower.”

Elizabeth remembered how mortified she had been at Mr Collins’s ineptitude, and that she had to constantly correct him.

“I did not realise you had observed us, sir, or that you had noticed the state of my slippers. I am surprised you would concern yourself with such trifling matters. Do I meet your exacting standards, Mr Darcy?”

As the dance drew them together, Elizabeth caught her breath. Darcy’s gaze seemed more intensified, and she felt as though his penetrating stare had somehow pierced her very soul. Taking both her hands, Darcy held them over his heart and replied with quiet, yet devastating passion.

“From our very first meeting, Elizabeth, my eyes have followed only you. There is not one moment when in each other’s company, that I cannot recall the gown you wore, the style of your hair or who your partner was. For every smile, I remember the time and the place. Every word, every glance you have ever bestowed on me, kind or otherwise, they are all indelibly committed to my memory. Not one heartbeat have I forgotten.”

Elizabeth felt spellbound; his words exposed the depth of his love, and they washed over her like an embrace. She had longed for such love, a passion that even after possession, it was not sated. They stood motionless while all around them danced.

“Come, Darcy, you must not monopolise Miss Elizabeth in this fashion. I believe she is promised to me for this dance.”

As the fog of emotion cleared, and reality returned, Darcy became aware that the dance had ended, and the musicians were still. They stood alone on the dance floor, being silently observed by the rest of the guests. Realising it was Bingley who had come to their rescue, Darcy turned and muttered,

“Thank you, Charles, maybe the next one.”

Without words, but still, in possession of her hand, Darcy led Elizabeth from the ballroom and out onto the deserted terrace. The biting December air enveloped them, but neither felt it. Stopping at the veranda's edge, Elizabeth took hold of the stone balustrade. The impact of his words still reverberated around her mind. She had read about such powerful loves, in the books of poets and Master Shakespeare, never dreaming she could be the recipient of such herself. She had always professed this would be the only thing that could induce her to marry, but now that she had found it, she could not, in all honesty, say she returned the sentiment. Oh, she wanted to, so very much she wanted to, but her feelings were unclear even to herself. If she professed to love him and it was false, it would mean heartbreak for them both. No, it was better to stay silent until she was sure. Again, the immenseness of Darcy’s declaration washed over her, the power of his all-consuming love saturating every fibre of her being, and she began to tremble. She tightened her grip on the rail lest Darcy mistook her shaking for shivering, but too late. He slipped off his coat and draped it over her, his warm hands lingering on her shoulders. Hesitantly, she covered them with her own, and then leant back on him for support.

“I did not know,” she murmured.

His warm baritone voice whispered close to her ear,

“You did not know what, Elizabeth? How those months apart were torture for me? How I risked my friendship with Charles in order to reunite him with Jane? Or maybe you are referring to Lydia, and the sacrifice I was willing to make to restore her to her family. That I have openly disregarded my family and society, by choosing to marry for love? Tell me that you know how my heart burns with a passion so violent, that you are the very air that I breathe. Surely you must know, Elizabeth; all I have done, I have done for you, only you.”

The anguish in his voice deafened her to propriety, and she turned and sought his lips with her own. She wanted to kiss away all the pain her family had caused him, to thank him for helping Lydia and Jane, and to fill the void of his absent family. And as their lips met, she felt his arms slide around her waist, drawing her still nearer. His acceptance of her imperfect family brought tears to her eyes, and unable to restrain them, they silently slid down her cheeks.

Her kiss was bittersweet in so many ways, Darcy thought, as the salt mingled on their lips. This was not the response he had hoped to provoke with his declaration. The uncertainty of what lay behind her actions was nothing short of agony. He longed for her caresses to be given with love, but suspected they were in gratitude. But for now, he would take whatever she offered. Hopefully, she would come to love him in time, for he could not, would not, live without her by his side.

Elizabeth, unable to hold back the sobs any longer, tore her mouth from his and buried her face in his coat. Darcy comforted her with soft words of reassurance until finally, Elizabeth managed to regain control of her emotions. Then Darcy lifted her chin to look into her eyes. Beautiful limpet pools of the darkest brown, still glistening with tears. He un-tucked his neckcloth and used the end to dry her eyes, knowing Fletcher would admonish him for it later. Concerned they had been gone too long already, Darcy tenderly stroked her hair, and then her cheek, before offering his verbal reassurance.

“My love is constant, Elizabeth. I will wait a lifetime if that is what it takes, but for now, I fear we must return. You are promised to Charles for the next dance, are you not?”

Retrieving his coat from her shoulders, he quickly shrugged himself back into it. He had not meant to cause her such distress and was heartily ashamed of himself for revealing the extent of his love in such a way. Sighing, he knew there was little hope their actions had gone unnoticed, but they must return.

Elizabeth was also disinclined to return to the frivolity of the dance. Instead, her mind was focused on easing Darcy’s pain, while trying to sort out her own feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was make merry and engage in meaningless chatter. Darcy’s tender embrace was far more alluring at this moment. Instead, she gave him a weak smile and placed her hand on his arm. Together, they silently turned and walked back inside.

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Darcy to the Rescue

Darcy was waiting on the steps of Netherfield as the carriage rolled to a halt and Charles Bingley jumped out. Having left town before the clock struck eight, Bingley was pleased to finally stretch his legs. They briefly exchanged pleasantries about the weather and Bingley’s journey and then adjourned to the library for a hot toddy. Stevens had left the coffee pot and whisky decanter on the table for the gentlemen to help themselves as instructed. Darcy half filled their cups with coffee and then topped them up with a generous glug of the whisky. Passing one to Bingley he said,

“It’s good to see you, Charles.”

Bingley took a decent swallow of the potent brew before replying,

“Thank you, Darcy. I very nearly didn’t come. My sisters had arranged several outings for us. But your letter was so cryptic curiosity got the better of me.” He reminded Darcy of the brief contents of the missive.

Charles

Return to Netherfield,

I implore you not to delay.

Come alone.

Darcy

“Yes, I’m sorry about that, Charles, but I know your sister Caroline has a habit of accidentally opening letters that are not addressed to her,” Darcy explained.

“Well, what was so urgent that it demanded my immediate return?”

Darcy knew he must make a clean breast of things regarding his interference between Miss Jane Bennet and Charles, but how? He did not want to upset or alienate his closest friend, but he could hardly stand by his opinion that Jane was unfit to be Charles’s wife when he intended to make Elizabeth his own. Feeling suddenly unprepared to make his confession, Darcy merely leant forward and refilled his glass saying,

“Nothing that won’t keep,” he lied. “I was lonely, that’s all. Perhaps we can talk after lunch?”

Bingley agreed to this plan and then went to wash before the noonday repast was served.

Usually, Elizabeth would have walked to Netherfield, but seeing the state of the paths, she was glad that her mother had insisted she take the carriage. Mrs Bennet had intended to send the footman over with an invitation for Darcy to dine with them, but Elizabeth knew he would most certainly be expected to deliver it on foot. So she was happy to deliver it personally and save the poor man a wretched walk.

She set off straight after luncheon and arrived at Netherfield a little after two. The footman showed her into the day room and then withdrew. She expected her host to arrive momentarily, but after several minutes had elapsed and she was still alone, she decided to look for him herself. The entrance hall was deserted, but she could hear voices coming from the upstairs drawing room. Determined to deliver the invitation in person, she began to climb the stairs. As she neared the top level, the voices seem to get much louder, too loud in fact. Taking care to make no noise herself, she crept closer until she could hear each word that was spoken. The occupants appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion. Although manners dictated she either retreat or make her presence known, Elizabeth did neither.

“You, engaged to Miss Elizabeth? You can’t be. I won’t believe it, Darcy.”

“It’s true, Elizabeth and I are engaged to be married,” Darcy confirmed.

“How can you be when you steered me away from such a union with her sister Jane?” Bingley scoffed. “They have very little money and no worthy connections, you said. Her heart appears untouched where you are concerned Charles, that’s what you said. Do you deny it, Darcy?”

“No, I do not deny it, Charles, but if you pause for just one minute, I will explain,” Darcy said as he tried to reason with his friend.

“Explain? What is there to explain?” Bingley asked raising his voice to an even greater level. “You can marry Miss Elizabeth because that is your desire, yet Jane and I are to remain estranged. You are a two-faced hypocrite, Darcy, and I never thought I would see the day you put your own self-interests above all others. In light of your declaration, I no longer feel bound by your council,” Bingley bellowed and then opened the door to leave.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth was blocking his exit. Unperturbed, he stepped around her with only a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement of her presence.

“Charles, come back and let me explain. There is much more to…” Darcy fell silent the minute he saw Elizabeth. His first thought being, how much did she hear? Her next words told him, everything.

“How could you? Oh, I suspected you did not approve the night of the ball. The look of disdain on your face gave you away. But to stoop so low as to try and separate two people, who are clearly very much in love, well, it confirms all the defects of your character I previously thought you possessed,” she spluttered, then turned on her heels and sped down the stairs.

Darcy followed her down the stairs pleading,

“Elizabeth, let me explain. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Elizabeth, please, won’t you, at least, hear me out?” he beseeched.

Elizabeth spun around and faced her intended. In her eyes, there was no explanation he could give that would redeem him. She threw her mother’s invitation at him and spat,

“If you have any semblance of a gentleman about you, you will make your excuses.” She hurried through the front door and into her carriage before he could stop her.

Darcy stood open-mouthed. How could so much have gone awry in just a few minutes? Unaccustomed to having people leave when he was mid-way through a sentence, he briefly thought them in the wrong, but only briefly. He realised his actions had been the cause of both Charles’s and Elizabeth’s outrage, and rightly so, from their perspective. But in his heart of hearts, he had only tried to protect his friend from what he thought, at the time, was another fortune-hunting Mamma forcing her daughter into a loveless match. These past few days he had seen first hand how Jane pined for Charles, and he now knew he had been mistaken in his opinion of her. He must make amends and today. Yet Darcy doubted he would be welcome at the Bennets’ now. Then he saw the crumpled piece of paper Elizabeth had hurled at him and stooped to pick it up. It read,

Dear Mr Darcy,

Mr Bennet and I would be honoured

if you and Mr Bingley would accept our

heartfelt invitation to come and dine

with us tonight.

Yours,

Fanny Bennet.

Darcy knew instantly that he still intended to go, and if he could talk Bingley ‘round to attending with him, so much the better. Whether he wanted to listen or not, Charles would hear his explanation and then his apology. After that, it was up to him to decide his own future.

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Mr Darcy’s Proposal

The rider dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging him to increase his pace. Moving as one they flew over the uneven terrain.

Unaccustomed to his master riding him with such fierce determination, Odin sporadically bucked his back legs in protest as they raced over the emerald landscape. Finally, as they approached a tall, but shallow hedge, the stallion, foaming at the bit with the exertion of the pace, decided enough was enough. As his rider leant forward in preparation for the jump, Odin dug his hooves into the ground and promptly stopped.

Darcy, who had resolved to ride until his black mood was exhausted, found himself momentarily airborne, before landing unceremoniously in a heap on the other side of the fence.

Relieved to be rid of his ill-tempered burden, Odin trotted over to a patch of green, winter pasture and lowered his head to sample the long blades, unconcerned with the fate of his rider.

Winded by the fall, Darcy lay on the ground and tried to catch his breath. He could not blame his faithful steed for throwing him. He had ridden Odin hard for almost an hour as he tried to banish a particular image from his mind, and from his memory.

The image of George Wickham, with his hand on Elizabeth’s arm.

Elizabeth, who was enjoying an extended morning walk, watched in disbelief as a man appeared from nowhere and landed at her feet.

Startled, she retreated a few steps, then instinct took over, and she rushed to his aid.

“Are you injured, sir?” Elizabeth asked as she knelt by his side.

Only when the man turned towards her, with a familiar scowl on his face, did Elizabeth recognised him.

“Why, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth exclaimed with surprise, “We understood you had left Hertfordshire and returned to the Town?”

His mood, already black from suffering an undignified parting from his horse, darkened as he realised his demise had been witnessed.

The fact that it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet who had been party to the shambolic event, only deepened his anger and embarrassment.

Brushing off Elizabeth’s attempt to assist him, Darcy replied gruffly,

“Thank you, but I am in no need of assistance.”

Although Elizabeth had no brothers, she understood the concept of male pride and would have forgiven Mr Darcy for his rudeness, had he not been bleeding from a graze on his brow.

Ignoring his black scowl, Elizabeth withdrew a handkerchief from her reticule and as she reached out to dab at the wound said,

“May I?”

“No,” he barked, “I have already stated that I am in no need of assistance, madam. I must ask you to desist.”

Humiliated, Darcy rolled over onto his stomach and tried to stand, however, he could only manage to struggle to his knees. Silently cursing, Darcy wished Elizabeth would leave him to his humiliation and allow him to recover in private.

Managing to regain his breath, he quickly realised the exertion of moving had rewarded him with a thumping in his head and a spell of dizziness. Momentarily defeated, he knew he needed to rest for a while longer before attempting to stand again.

His harsh words did not deter Elizabeth.

On several occasions when visiting her father’s tenant, she had tended to the scraped knees of their children. Neither the child’s verbal protests nor the sight of their bloodied knees or nose had swayed her from her task.

So, sitting back on her heels, Elizabeth watched as Mr Darcy tried again to scramble to his feet, only to fall back onto his hands and knees.

Now, with only one foot resting on the ground, it quickly became apparent that the gentleman was unable to stand under his own volition.

As Darcy paused in this half sitting, half kneeling position, Elizabeth said,

“Sir, while I hate to contradict you, it is obvious to me that you most definitely are in need of my assistance. Now, if you could stop being so stubborn for one minute, and take my arm, I am sure we could have you back in the saddle….” Elizabeth’s sentence was left unfinished.

“So far, I have been tolerant of your interference, Madam, but no more. You will kindly desist in your attempts to nursemaid me and remove yourself from this property.”

When Elizabeth made no move to leave, Darcy added,

“Trespassing is a serious offence, you know?”

If Elizabeth was shocked or stung by the severity of his address, she did not show it. Instead, she carefully folded her handkerchief and returned it to her purse.

Standing, she brushed the dried leaves from her dress and then paused to look at the dishevelled man kneeling before her. Had she not already experienced several encounters with the proud and unpleasant, Mr Darcy, Elizabeth might have taken offence at his curt words, his brisk tone or even his dark scowl, but she now deemed them to be part of his character long ago, even when one was trying to be helpful towards him.

“Very well, sir, I will leave you to your fate, but not because you order me from this property, but because I choose to leave. Besides, Netherfield Park ended with this boundary fence. You are now on Longbourn property.”

Elizabeth waited until she had her back to Darcy before letting a broad smile graced her lips.

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About the Author

I was born in a small rural town in Hertfordshire, England. My ancestry has been traced back to the 3rd century AD in Nottingham, England. Prior to this, we were Danish Vikings. (I guess we were part of an invasion party).

Until the early 20th century, we were landowners and farmers in Kent & Essex. With the modernisation of farming techniques, we sold up and moved nearer to the capital, finally settling in Tring.

My paternal grandparents, who inspired my love of the past, were both teachers, specialising in English and History.

My paternal grandmother was also a descendant of the Scottish Clan of Galbraith. We have our own clan tartan in the colours of black, green, blue and white squares.

My mother is descended from the single family of Standingford, (often spelt the Anglo-Saxon way of Stanton). There is only one family with this name and all, no matter how distantly, are related. We have our own heraldic shield and family motto. Dum Spiro, While I Breathe.

I am the middle of five children, with an older sister, a twin brother and a younger sister and brother.

My hobbies include reading, writing, listening to classical music, swimming, walking the dog and jet skiing.

I enjoy a variety of authors, including Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Noel Coward, and of course, Jane Austen, while my favourite composer is Bach.

I am a full-time writer, but I also contribute articles to various magazines, charities, and private publications.

Before I decided to become a full-time writer, I worked for the British Government.

My husband and I have been married forever, and we have two daughters, and four grandchildren.