They were engaged to go to Rosings that evening to drink tea but Elizabeth, with her ankle and her headache, declared she would stay at home. Mrs. Collins thought it the best idea—they had no carriage to convey Elizabeth over—but Mr. Collins could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather displeased by her staying at home.

When they were gone Elizabeth distracted herself from thoughts of Mr. Darcy by reading through Jane's letter. It was characteristic of all the others she had received since coming to the Parsonage. Jane did not complain; she did not mention old grievances or list new difficulties. But there was a lack of Jane's usual cheerful style and Lizzy could read uneasiness within the lines. Soon, Elizabeth thought, she would be back home with Jane and helping towards more amiable spirits and a happy outlook. She could be a sister again to Jane.

Her thoughts moved to the two Rosings cousins and their departure. She thought she understood that Colonel Fitzwilliam had no intentions towards her and she was not going to be unhappy about that though she did admire him a great deal. Before coming to Hunsford she had a poor perception of officers based on her younger sisters' behavior and their admiration of the militia, but she now had a strong admiration of the army after knowing the Colonel.

It was the other point, his hints about a letter that had her considering all she knew about Mr. Darcy and she was recalling all of their little interactions together since coming to Kent and whether she could ascertain any symptom of love from Darcy for her when she heard the sound of the doorbell. Elizabeth conjectured it had to be one of the two gentlemen and hoped it might be the Colonel come to inquire about her ankle and to say one last private farewell. Her vanity and spirits were checked, however when she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In a hurried manner, he immediately began an inquire after her health, stating his visit was due from a desire to know that her ankle did not trouble her overly much. She answered him with civility. He sat down for a few minutes then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her and standing above her and her elevated foot, spoke.

"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Some part of her may have anticipated such a speech when she saw it was Mr. Darcy come to call and not his cousin but she was still astonished to hear the words from him as her devoted admirer. She stared, colored, doubted and was silent as to how to respond. A small part of her thought 'it is a pretty speech,' but she did not reply.

Her silence he took as encouragement and he poured out all that he felt and had long felt for her. He spoke well but then diverted from the topic of her fairer attributes and of his tender feelings for her and spoke also of his sense of place in the world and of his sense of her inferiority and of the family obstacles he would have to face in marrying her.

Marriage, as she, a sensible gentleman's daughter knew all too well, was often about more things than love: station, comfort and security were also part of it and it was the only true occupation for a woman of her sphere. Elizabeth knew should she consider marriage, she should not base her choice solely on love as there were those other considerations. It was why she had never truly contemplated her former favorite, Mr. Wickham, who as a lieutenant in the militia and could not make much money. So she was not insensible to the tender feelings Mr. Darcy at first related to her and her vanity was again stirred at the compliment of such a great man's affections for her.

But his words of love being followed by some so ungenerous and against those people whom she did love was discouraging. While at the beginning she had wavered though she could not say she loved him in return, his pretty words had been strong enough to sway her to consider him—he was handsome, rich, and it would be an excellent match for her and her family. But his subsequent language swayed her back and she composed herself to answer him when he should be done. He concluded with representing to her the strength of his attachment in spite of all his endeavors to conquer it and he expressed his hope that he would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand.

It was not a moment to be at a loss for words, "I am grateful, Mr. Darcy," she began speaking, realizing she had to make a choice and also wishing that the scene was painted differently with a more eloquent lover asking for her hand as she could have imaged with Colonel Fitzwilliam or even Mr. Wickham a pretty speech but with no bitter ending, "I thank you for expressing your feelings so…eloquently," she stalled a moment, wondering how to lessen the pain of her rejection but realizing she could not and so continued, "I am sorry to bestow pain on anyone but must decline your offer."

Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed on her face seemed to catch her words with both resentment and surprise. His complexion paled with anger and it was visible in every fixture of his features. He was struggling to compose himself before he spoke again.

"That is your reply!" he was still angry. Any man who is rejected after a proposal must be angry. "May I ask why I am rejected?" She could see he was still working within himself to control his temper; he had thought he had mastered himself but once he spoke he realized otherwise.

"You spoke of your tender feelings for me—which was heartening—and yet you also said to me that those feelings went against your will, you reason and your character. How shall I take that Mr. Darcy? To so change a man's character? If I said yes to you today what if you changed your mind again in the future?" She paused to take a breath but he did not respond to her; he seemed to be doing everything he could to remain composed though she could tell he was not. "You also mentioned my family and your resentment over the potential connections with them. How shall I take those comments Mr. Darcy? A woman who is being courted does not like to hear about all of the negative aspects of a match, about relatives with vulgar manners or who might actually work for a living." She was attempting to paint a sensible portrait for him though she felt she was not making headway.

"I do not suppose it is my Aunt Philips's gossipy tongue that so affects you; I suppose it drove away Mr. Bingley as well?" She was attempting to end their conversation and return to a more light-hearted discussion but she saw him start and stare as his color drained.

"It was exactly that," he said.

"Whatever do you mean?" she cried, truly surprised.

"Mr. Bingley decided to leave Hertfordshire because of issues with family connections."

"How do you know this?" Her confusion showed on her face as she looked at him shift his position before her.

"He is my friend; we spoke of it."

She turned her head in despair to know that such had been the reasons for driving Bingley from Jane's side and causing Jane so much grief.

"I did not think that either Jane or I would be so little valued," cried she turning back to look at him, "that having an aunt whose husband is an attorney would so affect a gentleman. We are neither of us romantic and wish for sweet words only and be charmed, as I am sure that Mr. Wickham would use, but we would like to be valued for being the sensible creatures we are and not judged solely by our relation's actions," she finished fiercely.

"Mr. Wickham!" he seemed particularly upset at that gentleman's name.

"Perhaps I should have said your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, for he is a true gentleman and would not have proposed marriage in such terms: beautiful words mixed with bitter," she was growing angry over the lingering discussion and was wishing him away and losing her civility.

"My cousin, they were his words!" his anger matched hers as he began to pace in front of her, unable to be in one place.

"Whatever do you mean 'his words?'" She felt her stomach seize as though she were taken ill. She shifted in her chair, her foot uncomfortable.

He walked with quick steps across the floor a few times and then stopped in front of her again and she felt compelled to reach down and adjust the pillow under her foot rather than look him in the eye.

"He and I spoke; I was feeling tongue-tied; was unsure of the best words to say and since he had similar feelings he was able to help me find the rights ones to use," he explained, and then faltered. She stared at him in horror then as the meaning of his words sank in—'he had similar feelings'—she was ashamed now but still angry with the entire embarrassing situation.

"Are you telling me, sir, that Colonel Fitzwilliam has equal feelings for me yet it is you who are here proposing to me using words he provided? How did you decide who would propose to me? Did you cut cards for me?" and she turned her head with a sob and to catch her breath and wipe the tears from her eyes. Heartily did she wish him gone now and would have exited the room had her foot allowed it. She composed herself enough to turn back to face him, to look up directly at him. "I had, heretofore, considered you both gentlemen, but I can now see you both only choose to wear the trappings of that station but do not deserve to be called gentlemen though you are supposed to have been born to that sphere. Your manners tell me a different story. Good evening sir!"

His astonishment at her distress and then his mortification was easily read on his face. He seemed to be frozen for many moments while her words settled into his brain. Darcy seemed, at first, incapable of any reply but did give her a stiff bow, "Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

And with these words he left the room and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house. Her only recourse was to cry for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by a review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for so long. Yet that somehow the two cousins had discussed Darcy's proposal between them! It was mortifying that gentlemen would do such a thing and she blushed deeply at the thought of it. Could she have understood what Mr. Darcy had said correctly and that Colonel Fitzwilliam had similar feelings for her?

She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her realize she would present quite a picture to her friend. She wiped her tears and attempted to compose her face. Her ankle prevented her from moving so she could only proclaim, in answer to Mrs. Collin's concerned face, that her foot was the culprit for her pained face and request to be helped to her bed.

Elizabeth thought she would not sleep but found the exhaustion from her pained ankle alone was enough to induce her to sleep though the instant she opened her eyes her thoughts were on the same meditations which had closed them. She could not truly separate out Mr. Darcy's comment about Colonel Fitzwilliam's words from Darcy's proposal as flattering and then mortifying as that had been. She attempted to understand what he meant about finding the right words and about Fitzwilliam's feelings for her and she realized he had not truly explained it nor had she given him a chance to. In attempting to be fair she considered it possible for one man to ask another for advice though when she was the object of that advice it became more sensitive of a subject.

Using her ankle as an excuse she had delayed her morning routine, breakfasted late and then excused herself in the parlor with some embroidery to pass the time while she thought more about her evening. It was near impossible that Mr. Darcy would seek her company this, his last day, and she considered he might share his experiences the previous evening with Colonel Fitzwilliam so it seemed unlikely that the Colonel, out of a sense of loyalty, would call.

Mrs. Collins and Maria joined her in the room. Maria had a lot to share about the tea at Rosings the previous evening and Colonel Fitzwilliam's attentions. Mrs. Collins smiled and looked over at Elizabeth to share a look about lovesick and flirtatious sisters. Maria then went on to lament that the Colonel was to leave though he had promised one last call at the Parsonage.

"Is he to call this morning?" cried Elizabeth, alarmed.

"He said he would," Maria was adamant.

"What if he is too busy with last minute affairs?" Elizabeth offered the Colonel an excuse for not coming even though he was not there to take her up on it.

"But he promised," Maria pouted and then looked down at her work, frowned and had to pull out a stitch.

"Gentlemen lead far busier lives than we do and do not always keep their promises," remarked Elizabeth to herself.

"It would seem out of character for him not to come," said Mrs. Collins who eyed Elizabeth.

"We shall wait and see," offered Elizabeth hoping that she did not have to endure such a visit. She had almost finished the area of her project that she had set as her goal that morning and had even been distracted by it and not her thoughts when they heard the doorbell ring.

"See!" brightened Maria, "it is the Colonel!" And she began to frisk about as the other two women straightened their work.

To Elizabeth's astonishment, both gentlemen entered and she could not help but blush at seeing Mr. Darcy again. They settled themselves and, to her horror, Mr. Darcy came to sit next to her on the sofa near the window while Colonel Fitzwilliam sat between Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas after all the pleasantries were over.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, we shall certainly miss your visits and yours as well, Mr. Darcy," remarked Mrs. Collins nodding to the two men in turn.

"Oh yes, I shall be sorry to see you leave," said Maria.

"I thank you," said the Colonel, "I, we," he looked at his cousin sitting almost across from him, "have certainly enjoyed our visits here. It has added a special warmth to our annual visits to Rosings," he looked at Elizabeth who had looked up at him while he made his speech. She thought he had an extra smile for her as their eyes met.

There was a pause in the conversation and lest it be too awkward with Darcy beside her, Elizabeth felt the need to join in.

"You are to truly ship out so quickly? Do you know when you shall return home to England?"

"Yes, I am for Spain next week. And so long as Napoleon remains a problem I fear I will be on the Continent," it was more of a pained smile then.

She felt she needed to prove that Darcy's presence did not affect her so she turned to him, "what are you to do after you leave Kent, Mr. Darcy?"

"I am to go to London to spent time with friends," he remarked. They did not catch each other's eyes but looked out more at the rest of the company as they spoke.

"How exciting!" said Miss Lucas. "I should love to go to London—for the season no less!"

The talk turned to London and its delights and Elizabeth bent over her work letting the others carry on the conversation. Their end of the room was far quieter than the other but occasionally she or Mr. Darcy made some remark about the subject at hand.

"You are dutiful at your work," said he so near that she jumped a little. She could not help but turn to look at him.

"I have almost finished this one part," she answered indicating the section.

"May I see?" and he held out his hand. She was surprised by his request and still felt an acute embarrassment at any encounter with him after the previous evening. She dutifully handed her piece to him and he seemed absorbed in examining it, turning it this way and that as he looked at her work. "Very well done," he declared and gingerly deposited it on her lap.

She went to clasp it and noticed there was paper tucked beneath, at least two sheets that she could tell and rather than betray them both by looking boldly at him or pulling the letter out in the open—for that was what she guessed the paper must be—she tentatively slipped the missive into her pocket all the while staring forward at the others, not once turning to look at her partner on the sofa.

The gentlemen stayed long but finally rose to take their leave. Mr. Darcy shook hands with her then went to say goodbye to his hostess and then Colonel Fitzwilliam was there, leaning over her with her propped-up foot, and shaking her hand warmly with a great smile and some pretty words about their acquaintance and with hopes of meeting in the future though it might not be for a twelve month. His handshake was large and he ended by taking her small hand between both of his.

"Very glad to have met you, Miss Bennet," and he bowed.

"The pleasure has been mine," she replied with a nod, and when her hand came away she was the owner of a small square of folded paper which she hastily added to the ones from Mr. Darcy. One last curtsey from Mrs. Collins and Maria saw the men out of the door.

Maria proved to be in a bad temper with the leaving of the gentlemen and stomped around in an offended manner the rest of the day. Elizabeth dared not read her missives in public in the sitting room so had to wait until retiring that evening to set her eyes on the notes.

Mr. Darcy's letter covered two pages but Colonel Fitzwilliam's was a small single sheet and read.

Miss Bennet:

A gentleman always behaves as a gentleman whether or not a lady is present.

Yours, etc. Col. F.

Mr. Darcy's letter began with an assurance that it was not a renewal of his addresses but contained a justification for the reasoning of his proposal the previous evening. He detailed the situation of her mother's family but then went on to elaborate about the behavior and want of propriety displayed by her mother, her three younger sisters and even, on occasion, by her father. He did beg her pardon for any offense he might be giving to her by setting it down on paper by assuring her that both her and Jane's conduct had always been honorable and blameless.

It was of little consolation to Elizabeth—to read of what held truth about her family in terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, made her sense of shame severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly to deny; she had never been blind to the lack of propriety displayed by her family as he asserted though it still hurt to see it in print. The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt or unappreciated. It soothed her a small bit but could not entirely console her for the contempt she felt for the way her family was viewed if she admitted that truth. Elizabeth considered his points and the likelihood that Jane's disappointment with Mr. Bingley had been the work of their own family and she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before.

He then, before mentioning his cousin's part in the proposal, brought up the subject of Mr. Wickham.

"You mentioned last night, Mr. Wickham, and that if you ever received a proposal of marriage from him he would use 'sweet words.' May I warn you, as a friend, that Mr. Wickham is not the man he appears to be. He has profligate, scandalous ways and is a gambler, a trickster, and a seducer—pardon my frank words. He is not a man to be trusted. You may, perhaps, discount anything I would have to relate—I realize you well may wish to never converse with me again—but if you doubt my character may I ask you to turn to Colonel FitzWilliam. He is as familiar with Mr. Wickham's story as I am."

"To address the issue that caused you so much distress last night and for which I regret my turn of phrase. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I both value your friendship, your intellect, your wit and I believe it has been obvious we both hold you in high esteem. You are a remarkable woman, Miss Bennet. After that first evening at Rosings where you were so stalwart as to stay at the pianoforte and play for us without a break I shared with my cousin my hopes. Edward Fitzwilliam is like a brother to me. I am sure that your sisters might likewise confide in you in the same way. He told me you were a beautiful and admirable lady and was very encouraging of my suit. I fear I am better at writing than I am at speaking and I wished to ensure that my address to you was correct so I consulted my cousin. In the end I still did not succeed in my goal and spoke of matters that distressed and angered you and condemned me in your eyes. I apologize again as I mention the one subject which so greatly distressed you and for which I will never forgive myself. I mentioned that my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, admired you but never did we, as you put it, 'cut cards' for you or in any other way decide one of us had a more pressing need for you than the other. He has always been the gentleman. You have been in my heart and mind since my arrival here and it was ever my goal to declare myself to you though I found myself at a loss for the words to do so at so many opportunities. I still consider myself lucky to continue to have the friendship and support of my cousin. Yours, etc. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

7