I'm still in the process of re-posting stuff I already posted elsewhere. This is the first chapter of a five-chaptered story.

Warning: If you would rather have your P&P characters behave the way Jane Austen designed them, you should stop reading now. Especially if you like it when Mr Bingley or Colonel Fitzwilliam are supportive characters. Also, there is some swearing inside.

Regarding comments: I like them all, but keep in mind that I won't be able to answer you if you post as a guest. If you would rather not express your disagreement/concerns/whatever publicly but are willing to discuss, I would welcome a PM from you!

The characters are Austen's, the plot and writing are mine, and I hope the fun will be yours. :-)

The neighbourhood of Meryton, Wednesday 27 November

The two past months had been eventful in this little area of Hertfordshire. A single man in possession of a good fortune had established himself in the neighbourhood, to the delight of the families who had daughters of marriageable age. The Bennets of Longbourn, where five such young ladies dwelled, had not been the least of which to hope that the newcomer was in want of a wife, and Mr Bingley had indeed showed such an inclination towards the eldest Miss Bennet that her mother had soon considered him as the rightful property of her daughter.

Mr Bingley had not come alone, but his party had not been of much interest to his neighbours. They seemed to consider themselves above the four and twenty local families, and neither their fortunes nor their connections were enough to make the people of Meryton and around disinclined to think that Mr Bingley's sisters and his friend Mr Darcy were exceedingly disagreeable.

Though Mr Bingley only had eyes for Jane Bennet, the other young ladies did not feel in want of company, for a militia had recently arrived in Meryton, where they would be quartered the whole winter, and the presence of the officers enlivened the parties. No young lady feared to be left in want of a partner at a dance, and for the youngest of them, it was enough to make them ecstatic.

Disagreeable events also occurred during this time, at least from the Bennet family's point of view. Miss Bennet had fallen ill when she was visiting Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst at Netherfield, and as soon as she was in better health and back home, the family received the visit of an until then unmet cousin. That serious and pompous young man was in possession, if not of a good fortune, of a fine living; he also was, since Mr Bennet had no sons, the heir of Longbourn. Conscious of the fact his cousins would be without a home after their father's passing, he meant to marry one of them and shared his intentions with their mother. Not reflecting that their characters would not complement each other, Mrs Bennet suggested him to direct his attentions towards her second eldest daughter, Elizabeth. It was not until Mr Bingley threw a ball that the young lady realised the intentions of her cousin and this, along with the fact that her family behaved most dreadfully that evening, resulted in her not fully enjoy the gathering. The fact she had not been able to avoid dancing with Mr Darcy and regretted the absence of Mr Wickham, a charming new officer of the militia, did nothing to improve her mood.

The following day began as the previous one had ended. Mr Collins felt he could not wait before offering marriage to his fair cousin and was soundly rejected. Consequently, Longbourn was in an uproar although Mrs Bennet still held out hope that her daughter could be convinced to change her mind.

A short distance away, unaware of these happenings, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy rode out together. The younger man planned to go to Town that day for a matter of business and had suggested that his friend accompany him for a while. He had left a note to his youngest sister in order to reassure her should she enquire after their guest.

After a couple of miles, as they were cutting through a wood, Bingley stopped. Darcy looked around but saw nothing of significance. It was just a clearing like any other clearing—its most remarkable feature being an old oak tree on one side of it whose branches descended rather low, inviting passers-by to climb it. Having dismounted, Bingley was currently standing under it, seemingly preoccupied. He was looking alternatively at his watch and at their surroundings as if he expected someone to meet them. Darcy tried to get his friend's attention, to ask him for an explanation, but he seemed oblivious to everything but his survey of the woods and the watch. His attention only focused elsewhere when some noise could be heard above the rustling of the leaves.

Did he plan to meet someone? But then whom? Maybe Miss Bennet—they had been talking all night during the ball, after all. Darcy was surprised that the lady would agree to such a clandestine meeting but reflected that she might be planning to come with one of her sisters and that this was the reason Bingley wanted him there—to distract the sister while he would be conversing with his angel. Torn between annoyance at his friend's secrecy and hope that the sister she would choose to accompany her would be Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he did not hear three riders approach and nearly jumped when he saw two of his cousins dismount not ten feet from him.

Behind Viscount Jeffreys and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood a man in uniform whom he barely acknowledged, deciding it must be the Colonel's batman. After having greeted both his cousins, Darcy exchanged a few words with the Viscount, whom he had not seen for some time. Bingley had also come to greet the newcomers, then stepped aside with the Colonel. It suddenly occurred to Darcy that his friend had not seemed surprised to see the three riders arrive. It even appeared that he had engineered the meeting—but why? They could all have met in Town. It was very strange. Turning towards his friend, he asked:

"Bingley, did you plan—"

The question died on his lips as he stared down the barrel of a gun. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, two men he had always considered as close friends, were facing him and the Viscount, smirks on their lips and pistols in hand. A glance revealed that the third man stood in the same attitude, near the horses, curtailing all reasonable hopes of escaping quickly. This could not be happening. The two amiable men he trusted more than anyone in the world could not have morphed into that pair of calculating, cold creatures. Now, it would not be unlike them to have fun at his expense—but why involve the Viscount? While Darcy was still trying to make sense of what he was seeing, his eldest cousin had found his voice at last.

"What the hell is happening here?" he asked angrily.

"Dearest brother," the Colonel answered with a cold smile, "it is happening that you are getting married, and I fear it will not do. I cannot take the risk to let you marry and have sons—it would make me fall too far down the line of succession. I had an interesting discussion with Bingley about this a couple of months ago, and we thought we may as well kill two birds with one stone."

A pregnant silence followed, and it became clear that the Colonel was waiting for his brother to speak before saying anything more.

Unclenching his teeth enough to speak, the Viscount snapped, "Meaning?"

"That not only you will have to disappear, but our esteemed cousin as well."

"Why?"

"After Darcy's tragic death, Bingley will, with my blessings as her guardian, marry Georgiana. Her mourning period will end in one year or so—about the same time as his lease here. He had to lure you in the countryside, but not too far away from London. Netherfield was convenient. You wondered why Bingley leased it instead of searching a place where he could establish himself for good, but it would not have made sense for him to buy an estate when he would gain Pemberley, would it?"

Unlike as in pranks he had pulled on his brother and cousin before, there was no trace of humour in his voice. Bingley's countenance was likewise cold. As much as he wished to believe this was no more than a tasteless joke, Darcy was becoming aware that that explanation was more and more unlikely.

"Bingley," he whispered, finding his voice again. "I thought you were my friend. Why would you do such a thing?"

The younger man shrugged. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to see all the young ladies' eyes following you when you enter a room? Not that you notice them of course. Do you even know how many people court your favour, in the hope of being included in your circle? And yet you only associate closely with a handful of people. Such a waste of opportunities."

"I do not understand."

"I happen to believe I would do greater things with your money than you do," Bingley said, shaking his head. "What a waste of wealth with so little gain in status! Spending money on health care for your tenants? Investing in trade ventures? Giving away thousands of pounds in the hopes people would use the money wisely and reform their character?"

The way the last was said, with Bingley gesturing towards their accomplice still standing at a distance with the horses, induced Darcy to at last take a proper look at the third man.

"Wickham!" he spat.

"Wickham? As in your father's steward's son?" said a puzzled Viscount. "My brother introduced him as Mr George … What does he have to gain here?"

"More precisely, how many pounds, Wickham?" Darcy added with sarcasm.

The man shrugged. "Lots. Does that really matter? Fitzwilliam recruited me last spring. I was to elope with your sister, but you foiled that plan."

"Yes," the Colonel took over, turning towards his brother. "I had just heard about your interest for Lady Constance, Henry, and knew it was time to act. Georgiana running away with the steward's son would certainly have prevented the match; your lady's family would have fled from the subsequent gossip such a scandal would generate."

"And what exactly are you planning to do now?" Darcy tried to sound confident, but his Master of Pemberley voice had escaped him.

"I will return to Town as planned, and so will the Colonel," Bingley answered with a grin. "Wickham will keep you company for a while—oh, do not think about fleeing, for we will tie you up nicely before we go—and join his regiment at the end of the day. However, just before that, when we would have had enough time to be back in Town and to be seen there, he will kill you. We thought it would be a nice touch to disguise it as a duel."

"A duel? What reason would we have to fight?"

"Oh, that is simple enough—I will say I heard you disparaging my brother's intended, and that he demanded apologies that you would not make. Nobody would believe that you would purposely fight to the death, of course, but people will assume that you will have gotten carried away in the heat of the moment, as it were."

"Now. Enjoy your last hours on earth, gentlemen." With a nod to Bingley, he added, "If we want to be in London before night, we have to go." And with a mocking salute, both gentlemen left, leaving the two cousins tied together and sitting on the ground. Wickham was eyeing them speculatively. Darcy was thinking of a way to escape when the Viscount spoke.

"You know, Wickham, if it is money you want, I am pretty certain that we can offer you more than they promised."

"True. But I also wish for revenge on Darcy—so I'm afraid I can not take you up on your offer."

"Why do you want to kill us both at the same time?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"If we are to live only a few hours, I would just as well talk during that time—and I cannot think of another subject more interesting."

"Very well," said Wickham, shrugging. "It is boringly simple—your brother wished me to do the work for him, for he knows enough about me to ensure I would not be able to blackmail him. Bingley did not trust the Colonel enough to rely on his word that he would arrange for me to kill you later, once he had what he wanted."

"But two deaths at some month's interval would have been qualified as a tragic series of accidents, whereas this farce of a duel will only draw undue attention and expose them," exclaimed the Viscount. "People are bound to look more closely at our comings and goings today."

"Oh, no," smiled Wickham. It was not a comforting sight. "It is unlikely any of us will be suspected of anything. Nobody will worry about you for days because here, Darcy, you will be thought to have, on impulse, gone away with your friend, while in London, Bingley will say that you stayed in Netherfield, that you changed your mind about following him to Town. He will send word to your household so that they should not worry when you do not arrive with your trunks."

"But my trunks are not packed, and my staff has no reason at all to expect my return at that time."

"Oh, they will be—Bingley did instruct his sister to see to it when he wrote his note. Your man will be on his way with them, I think, tomorrow at the latest. As for you, my dear Viscount, the Colonel will say that you left him to go somewhere. They think that, by acting this way, it will be some days before your bodies are discovered, and they hope it will help muddle the memories of people, as well as disguise the marks on your bodies."

"How?"

"Our friends—the animals of the forest, of course," he said with a malevolent smile.

Wickham was so focused on his one-upmanship over the two gentlemen in front of him that he did not notice the noise above him before it was too late.

Longbourn, earlier the same day

When she went down to join her family in the drawing room, Elizabeth Bennet was very calm. Not even the smug face of her mother or the contented one of her cousin could dampen her serenity. Her elder sister, though, seemed worried. As she took her seat beside her sister, Elizabeth clasped her hand.

"Now, Lizzy," she heard her mother say. "We do not have much time to lose, for Mr Collins wishes to be married in six weeks." The tall man nodded with solemnity.

"I fail to understand how it affects me, Mamma," said Elizabeth before picking up her embroidery hoop.

"How you vex me, child! Of course you should have a say in your own wedding arrangements!"

Elizabeth lifted her eyes from her needlework. "I believe I was very clear this morning, as was my father. I will not marry my cousin."

"Have you no pity for me? First, Mr Bingley, then you. What is to become of us once your father is dead?"

"Mr Bingley? What of him?"

"Did you not hear his sisters yesterday? They said they would never allow him to align himself with Jane, and that he would abide their wishes," lamented Mrs Bennet.

Elizabeth was frowning. The last time she saw that gentleman, he only had eyes for Jane. The notion that he would dismiss her sister only to please his made no sense.

"Mamma," said Jane. "I cannot begrudge him for following the wishes of his sisters."

"Pish posh! I cannot see why he should let their wishes interfere with his," a peeved Mrs Bennet answered.

"You cannot have it both ways," her eldest daughter gently—but firmly—answered. "You cannot berate both Mr Bingley for complying with his family's wishes and Lizzy for refusing to do so."

At this, the others fell silent, and before anyone could say a word, Jane rose and announced her intention to take a walk in the garden. She asked Elizabeth to join her, and the two ladies promptly left the room, leaving behind them an indignant mother, an offended cousin, and three bickering sisters—the youngest two were giggling while the other reprimanded them for their indecorous behaviour. Mr Bennet had retreated earlier to his library and later bemoaned the fact that he did not witness that exchange.

Unbeknown to Elizabeth, Jane had agreed to help her mother in her endeavour to make Elizabeth change her mind. She listened at first to her sister's complaints about her mother's insistence and, on seeing some answer was expected, took her cue to present Mrs Bennet's concerns in a more favourable light.

"Lizzy, let me advise you to think better of it. Think how happy you would make my mother, and what happiness you would give to all your family: if you could provide for Mamma and all of us who would be unmarried when our father dies, you can see how it would raise our prospects of a good match—as a suitor would not have to worry about supporting them along with his family. Would it not be worth the inconvenience of having a husband you do not hold in some affection? He seems content to seek his patroness's advice, and I dare say he would be as happy to follow yours also. You could have him mould his conduct to your wishes; this is a luxury few wives can have."

Elizabeth had frozen in her step. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth half so, but she did not utter a sound.

"Lizzy," Jane continued hesitantly. "This might well be the only proposal you shall receive, and ..."

Here she stopped, not knowing how to continue without offending her sister who, shaking herself, spoke at last.

"No, Jane! You cannot think there is any way I could be happy to be married to Mr Collins. Why, I think even Mr Darcy would make me a better husband. He may be infuriating and rude, but at least I am not bored to death or mortified whenever he opens his mouth. His conversation can even be entertaining," she added as an afterthought.

Jane sighed.

"You know I always speak as I find, dearest." She led Elizabeth to a bench where they sat.

"And I am astonished that this is what you think—I would have believed that you would entreat me to never marry without affection. I feel I do not know you at all."

Jane attempted to hug her younger sister, but Elizabeth eluded her and slid to the edge of the bench. Knowing that insisting would only drive her sister away, Jane did not move.

"You do have a tendency to see only the facts you want to see and discard the ones that do not fit with your way of thinking—why, only one week ago you had decided that Mr Darcy must have been cruel towards Mr Wickham, though you had known the former for a longer time and had no knowledge of the latter."

"Mr Wickham did not say anything that Mr Darcy's manners did not corroborate," Elizabeth huffed.

"I fear this is just your stubbornness speaking, Lizzy," said Jane, shaking her head with a smile. "You are proud of your capacity to draw people's characters and dislike to be proven wrong. But back to Mr Collins—I do not want you to make a decision that would make you unhappy. I love you too much for that. However, I think you could be content in a marriage with our cousin: I believe that you might have misjudged him at first too. You are so independent that I fear it is doubtful a gentleman would dare offer for you, even if you had a dowry. And we do not even have that. Only tell me you will think about it."

Elizabeth sighed. "Will you hate me if I persist in deciding against him?"

"Lizzy! I love you. That does not mean I will always agree with your decisions, but neither do I believe that you should always share my opinions. I might sometimes think you are wrong or too hasty in forming an opinion, but I could never hate you."

Elizabeth blinked her eyes to prevent her tears from falling. Unwilling to distress her sister further, Jane rose, kissed her brow gently, and left her sister without waiting for an answer.

Elizabeth was astonished beyond measure. She had known that her mother had asked her sister for help in order to make her change her mind, but she would never have believed that dear sweet Jane, to whom she had confided all her hopes and dreams, would comply. Nor had she thought that Jane could sound so much like Charlotte Lucas. She idly wondered if Jane's interest in Mr Bingley was also shallow and mercenary—but no, she recollected herself. Jane did truly care for him, but must fear he would not offer for her if he thought he would be called to support five additional women sometime in the future. She would not directly say so—and Elizabeth doubted Jane would try to influence her choice more than she already had—but she must feel that if her sister agreed to marry Mr Collins, it would help her to secure Mr Bingley. If anything, his own sisters would not fear an invasion of Bennet ladies should Mr Bennet die.

Could she rate Jane's happiness above her own? Could she risk to ruin, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? Elizabeth did not think she would get much sleep that night.

However, she soon reflected that marrying Mr Collins would only lead her to resentment—and she could easily imagine herself begrudging Jane her happiness. That would not do. She was not nearly as good as her sister was. Jane would have, without any hesitation, sacrificed herself if the situation was reversed. It was not in her character to suggest that Elizabeth did something that she, herself, would have been unwilling to do. However, the material fact was that the situation was not reversed, and it must be said that even if it had been, Elizabeth would have begged her sister not to marry Mr Collins.

She kept thinking about the situation while resuming her turn of the gardens, and it did not take long for her to feel at peace with her decision. It did not follow, however, that she felt equal to sit with her family—especially her mother—at Longbourn. The only place where she could expect some tranquillity was at her father's side—and he had expressly asked not to be disturbed. She decided to go for a long walk, stopping shortly by the house to change her footwear and grab a book.

Along the way, she continued her musings, this time about what her sister had told her about her character. Jane had pointed out that she had some misplaced pride and gave Mr Darcy's case as an example. The combination of the two points made Elizabeth think of a conversation she had had with that gentleman at Netherfield. Is my pride under good regulation? She had accused him of being vain, but perhaps she was the one guilty of that. She had disliked Mr Darcy from the first, because he had rudely dismissed her, but had she, after that, only looked at him to find fault? It appreared to be Jane's opinion, and Elizabeth began to realise with some annoyance that her sister might have been right—perhaps she was guilty of doing the very thing she had accused the gentleman.

It did not matter much, for even if Mr Bingley came back to Jane she would not meet with his friend often, but she resolved to treat him more fairly and to rely on more than first impressions to form a judgement in the future. Here she thought of Mr Wickham—she had also decided, at first glance, that he must be amiable. And indeed he was—but now that she thought about their conversation, she detected some inconsistencies. Would she have done so had Jane not opened her eyes?

Well—maybe she would end an old maid, but perhaps she would be a less foolish one.

Elizabeth had walked in a direction she did not usually follow and, with her mind so occupied, found herself at a clearing she had not visited in a long while—since the day her mother had kept her in the house for a week after she fell from one of the nearby trees.

That tree was still here, and five years had not altered its appearance. Feeling defiant that morning, Elizabeth, after ensuring no one would see her, endeavoured to discover if her favourite seat was still as comfortable as she remembered. She planned to settle in the branches for a while with the book she had blindly selected that morning.

Alas, nothing went according to plan. First, she had taken a volume of poetry, of all things! As if she was not sick with all love-related matters for today. Second, sitting in a tree was not as fun or as comfortable as she remembered. And third, as she decided to begin her descent, two riders entered the clearing. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like an unladylike curse when she recognised them. Will I never be free of Mr Darcy? But some minutes later, she began to think that Providence might have sent her up that tree after all.

Mr Bingley and the other gentleman had left, and Mr Wickham—how stupid had she been to believe him—had been pacing while he talked to the others. He stood now right under where Elizabeth was perched. Deciding that she might not have another chance to intervene, she jumped.

Nine stone of young lady and accessories landing on one's back as they fall to the ground is enough to knock the wind out of most people, and Wickham was no exception. Elizabeth did not wait to see whether he was conscious or not but ran to the two other men and untied them as quickly as she could. The Viscount was freed first. He jumped to his feet and hurried to the prone man's side to ensure he could not reach for his pistol. Darcy gathered the ropes, but could not help glancing now and then at Elizabeth. If not for the pain in his wrists, he would have sworn he was dreaming, and he could not fathom how the young lady had materialised in the clearing, appearing to fall from heaven. Shaking his head, he joined his cousin, and they bound Wickham's hands and feet to prevent his escape. The scoundrel must have passed out earlier, for as they were finishing, he was stirring and regaining his senses.

"Damn tree, damn branches! I did not hear that one creak." Wickham sat gingerly, cursing again on noticing the ropes that now restricted his movements. He looked around him slowly and frowned. "Where is it?"

The other two gentlemen looked at each other, knitting their brows.

"What are you speaking of?"

"The bloody branch, of course. I swear I heard some noise up the tree, and then I was struck—a limb must have broken." He was still looking around his surroundings, and his eyes narrowed on seeing Elizabeth standing a dozen feet away, hugging herself.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know the lady? I would welcome an introduction," the Viscount said as if nothing in their situation was amiss.

"We both know her," Darcy answered, shaking his head at his cousin's flippancy. "Miss Bennet, let me introduce to you Henry Fitzwilliam, Viscount Jeffreys, my eldest cousin. Henry, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn."

The Viscount made an impeccable bow, while Elizabeth's curtsy was far from flawless. Her shaking was increasing though there was no more danger, and she began to feel a dull pain in her ankle. She struggled not to fall as the pain increased when she felt a steadying hand at her elbow. She glanced down to it, then up the arm it belonged to, and met the concerned eyes of Mr Darcy. Was his concern directed to her?

Now, if she could just stop shaking, recover her wits, and lead the two men home, or to Netherfield. Or maybe they would want to leave for London as soon as they could. She shifted her weight on her ankle, and could not contain a yelp as she winced, drawing her buttress's attention.

"Miss Bennet, are you hurt? What is the matter?"

"'Tis nothing, I have hurt my ankle—I did not feel it earlier, but it is hurting now."

Darcy glanced up the tree. "Where were you sitting?"

Elizabeth pointed to one of the branches, and Darcy blanched. "It is above ten feet from the ground—you could have gotten yourself killed! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of something to do so that you would not get yourself killed," she hissed back.

Before Darcy could answer, his cousin, on seeing that the gentleman was about to argue further, interjected.

"Maybe we should not stay here—it looks like rain, and your foot will need to be tended anyway. Is your home very far from here?"

Elizabeth shook her head and extended her arm. "It is about half a mile in that direction."

The Viscount nodded and turned towards his cousin. "We should go—but we will be quicker on our horses. Yours is fresher than mine, so I suggest you take Miss Bennet."

"Could I not borrow Mr Wickham's horse?" Elizabeth was not enthusiastic at the idea of sharing anything with Mr Darcy—be it a horse or a dance.

"No—he will need his as he is coming with us. We should not leave him here, and besides, I want him to share with us what he knows about this."

"Why makes you think he will comply?" said Darcy.

"Money."

"That is worth trying," Darcy agreed after a half-laugh to himself. "Shall we move? This will certainly be a long discussion, and I would rather have it in a well-heated drawing room than in a cold, damp wood."

"I am in full agreement with you," his cousin said and turned towards Wickham. "I am going to untie you. Do not think about doing anything stupid."

The man meekly nodded. But this was Wickham: as soon as he was free, he knocked the Viscount down, jumped on his horse and raced towards Meryton at a wicked pace. From his prone position, his former captor swore, and Darcy, who was still supporting an injured Elizabeth, watched him disappear with dismay.

"At least he is not running after Bingley and your brother," he drily commented. "What are we to do about him now?"

"I fear we have to let him go—I do not think he will linger in the neighbourhood. It would be a foolish thing to do in his situation. Miss Bennet, will you direct us?"

"I will—but are you certain we cannot walk?"

"You cannot," said Mr Darcy. Before she could protest, he had lifted her and sat her on his horse, and her hands gripped its mane. "Now, if you are uncomfortable with the idea that we ride together, I will walk. The sky does not seem so very threatening—I think we will manage to arrive at Longbourn before the rain. If it begins to fall earlier, we will adjust our arrangements. Does that suit you?"

Elizabeth nodded, his cousin shrugged, and the party began its way towards Longbourn. Perched atop a horse, with nothing to do but point in the correct direction when there was a choice to be made between two paths, she had ample time to reflect further on her past relationship with Mr Darcy. Her dislike of the man could have been irrational, and it seemed that she had been at fault in sketching at least two other characters recently. She had stayed at Netherfield during Jane's illness and, on the occasions when she was with the residents of the house, had argued the opposite position from Mr Darcy whenever she had the opportunity to do so without being overtly impolite.

Perhaps she should apologise to the gentleman for her impertinence. As soon as she had resolved she might do so, she decided she would not. She had misjudged the characters of both Wickham and Bingley. Mr Darcy had been betrayed by close friends, but that did not absolve him of his rude behaviour and his arrogance. What she should do was to thank him for his warning regarding Mr Wickham—she might not have heeded it, but it was a moot point now. Clearly, whatever the truth was regarding the matter of the living, it was Mr Wickham who had treated the Darcys ill recently.

The weather held, and as Mr Darcy was a good walker, they arrived at Longbourn before she had said anything. A groom hurried to take the two horses, and they entered a very calm house. Elizabeth enquired after her family, and was told that her father was in his study, and two of her sisters in the music room—she could indeed hear Mary playing scales. Mrs Bennet and her younger daughters had gone to Meryton, and Mr Collins was at Lucas Lodge at the invitation of Charlotte Lucas.

Elizabeth, whose pain had eased during the ride, was able now to walk alone—if somewhat gingerly—and so made her way up the stairs to her father's study. When she knocked at the door, a peevish voice informed her that he had had enough agitation for the day and wished to be left in peace. On seeing Elizabeth's dismayed face, Viscount Jeffreys decided that there was no need to inform the master of the house of the situation for now and that it would actually be better if he and Darcy were able to speak privately about what exactly should be shared. He thus enquired whether there was another room he and his cousin could use. Elizabeth directed them to the breakfast parlour and, feeling unequal to the company of her sisters, told them she planned to settle in the adjoining drawing room. After Mrs Hill had brought them tea, the cousins began to discuss their plans.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had resumed her needlework and was embroidering a handkerchief whilst resting her foot on a stool, when a commotion was heard in the hall. The Bennet ladies had returned from town, and excitement was evident in their voices. Kitty and Lydia were giggling, as was their wont when there was some shocking piece of gossip to share, but what surprised Elizabeth was that Mrs Bennet did not join them.

"Oh, we are ruined!" she cried. "Mr Bennet, you must make him marry her."

Elizabeth frowned. She had hoped her mother had abandoned her matchmaking scheme by now—not that she would agree to marry Mr Collins in any case. Her sisters entered the parlour at that very moment.

"Oh, there you are," said Lydia, bouncing with excitement.

"Wickham has resigned his commission and has left Meryton in a great hurry," Kitty sighed unhappily.

Elizabeth pinched her lips. Ha. Not very surprising.

"And you have been very sly, Lizzy!"

"What are you speaking about?"

"La! Everyone in town knows that you have been secretly meeting with Mr Darcy in the woods."

The colour drained from Elizabeth's face. There was no need to be a bluestocking to know who the source of this information was.