Most often, Elizabeth came in with a glow on her cheeks after her daily walks. She would divest herself of her outer garments before seeking the company of Mrs. Collins, refreshed and rejuvenated by her time out of doors. If John-Soqedziel was fortunate enough to carry in the tea tray, he caught snippets of conversation, and so learned that she regularly met both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy when out on her rambles through Rosings park.

But one day, Soqedziel answered the door to allow Elizabeth entrance, but instead of looking for Charlotte, she ran up to her room and shut herself behind the chamber door. Miss Bennet did not call for tea. Mrs. Collins—always occupied with household duties—did not notice her friend's absence, or by extension, her distress.

By the evening, when a notice was sent to Mrs. Collins that Miss Bennet had a headache, Elizabeth also indicated that she would be unable to go to Rosings to drink tea with everyone else. While Charlotte could perceive that Elizabeth really was unwell, Soqedziel heard his Master stuttering and blustering that Lady Catherine would be rather displeased if Elizabeth stayed home. Charlotte Collins did her best to shelter Elizabeth from her husband's rantings before the party of three left the parsonage (Mr. and Mrs. Collins and Maria) and left Elizabeth behind.

John-Soqedziel saw her settled comfortably in the parlor with tea. Elizabeth appeared thoughtful and concerned, even a little unsettled. She was polite when Soqedziel indicated that he hoped she was feeling better, but she only nodded vaguely to his kind words.

The angel had settled with his own tea (the cook had provided a nice plate) when the sound of the doorbell roused him. They had so few visitors that he could not imagine who would be calling in the evening. The colonel had once called late in the day, but the angel was surprised and immediately intrigued by the sight of Mr. Darcy on the parsonage doorstep.

"G'evening," murmured the gentleman who immediately stepped past John-Soqedziel. "Is Miss Bennet available?" Darcy headed towards the parlor with assurance, and yet the angel thought there was agitation to the gentleman's manner as well. Soqedziel opened the parlor door for Darcy, but as with that visit before, he left the door open. He stood just on the other side, waiting for a summons for the tea tray, or perhaps for Elizabeth to ask Mr. Darcy to leave because she was in poor health.

The angel was shocked by what he overheard. After it was over, he was happy that no other servant had come by to catch him listening at keyholes.

He first heard a brief, cold greeting which was followed by silence. Then Mr. Darcy surprised both Soqedziel (and he assumed Elizabeth), by declaring his feelings. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

As far as declarations of love go, it was a good one, thought the angel. But then the man's Pride took over. While he spoke about his feelings of the heart, Mr. Darcy felt the need to discuss those related to his Pride. How he felt Elizabeth was inferior to him, how his family would object to any alliance with her. Soqedziel thought such details greatly wounded his suit.

The angel wished he could see the expressions of both, but living among humans in their form meant having the limitations of their bodies. He was not gifted with special hearing or the ability to be invisible and pass through walls to observe.

The gentleman swain used classic words as he concluded his speech that he was 'in suspense' as he waited for her answer—as though the anxiety would truly plague him until she agreed to marry him. But Mr. Darcy seemed confident that she would say yes.

Soqedziel was sure that she would say no.

And Elizabeth did. She explained that while she understood she ought to express some Gratitude for his sentiments, Elizabeth could not. She had never desired his good opinion. She hoped that those other feelings which Mr. Darcy had expressed (and which had kept him from declaring his regard) would help him overcome any pain he felt with her rejection of his suit.

A long pause hung thickly between all three of them, and the angel wondered again for the twentieth time that evening what the faces of the two in the parlor looked like.

"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting! I might wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected," said the man.

"I might as well inquire why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?" said the woman.

Pride, thought Soqedziel. They are both bristling with it.

Elizabeth explained that had her feelings not been set against Mr. Darcy (or even had they been favorable) she could never accept a man who had ruined her sister's happiness. It seemed Mr. Darcy had been the principal party behind separating Jane and Mr. Bingley. Back in November, he had encouraged his friend to leave Netherfield and Hertfordshire—and Jane—behind.

"Can you deny that you have done it?" commanded Elizabeth in a remarkably unruffled and tranquil voice, Mr. Darcy acknowledged that he had done everything in his power to separate the couple.

She then mentioned what she believed to be her trump card: Mr. Wickham. Bringing up a rival had to ruffle the feathers of one so Proudful.

"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns," were the first words out of Darcy's mouth.

Elizabeth rounded on him, accusing him of bringing Mr. Wickham great misfortune, and reducing him to comparative poverty by denying him his rights. She threw out an accusation of contempt and ridicule at the end of her speech.

"And this is your opinion of me!" John-Soqedziel, the spying servant, heard the gentleman call out. Mr. Darcy's tone sounded as though Elizabeth's contempt hit him hard. He had been put on the spot instead of finding a woman who gladly accepted his suit, instead, Mr. Darcy had come to offer marriage, believing the outcome to be a certainty. Now he was now leery of the conversation, defensive, and yet still full of Pride.

Darcy asserted in return that Elizabeth would have thought differently about his offer if he had not been honest about his 'struggles' with the inferiority of her connections or her relations. He asserted it was natural and just to declare how he felt.

She spoke with composure, though Soqedziel could hear the tinge of anger in her voice when Elizabeth firmly replied that his mode of speaking merely spared her any concern had Darcy acted 'like a gentleman.'

"You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it." Her final words were chilling as she pointed out his arrogance, conceit, and disregard for anyone else's feelings but his own.

It did chill the man as Darcy's voice was cold, "you have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been." He said farewell, and Soqedziel heard him moving quickly towards the parlor door. The angel barely had enough time to dive into Mr. Collins' study before Mr. Darcy walked hastily to the front door and let himself out.

As soon as the sound of the front door shutting resounded in the hall, Soqedziel heard a cry, and then a moan as tears racked Elizabeth Bennet. She wept for longer than he thought a young woman in her situation might possibly be able to weep. The angel wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. Elizabeth never called for tea, so he would have no way of finding out. Soqedziel returned to his own.

Lady Catherine's carriage returned with the other parsonage residents. He heard Elizabeth run up to her room before she was confronted by her friend, Charlotte Collins, about her evening visitor.


All night, Soqedziel's thoughts concerned Elizabeth Bennet. He did not sleep (not that he needed to), but he doubted that she had. Shortly after breakfast, Elizabeth stated an intention of seeking air and exercise. No one else at the parsonage said anything, either to protest her walking out or to note her drawn face.

Not much time later, Mr. Darcy came to take his leave. It seemed that Lady Catherine's two nephews were leaving Kent. While the gentleman was agitated (obviously he had been affected by the events of the evening before), Darcy remained composed as John-Soqedziel let him into the parsonage. Mr. Darcy only stayed for about fifteen minutes; tea was not even ordered. When he left, Soqedziel though his composure was broken somewhat. Colonel Fitzwilliam called a while later. He sat with the ladies taking tea for over an hour, but he too eventually got up to go, looking disappointed as he made his way out the door.

"I am sorry not to be able to see Miss Bennet," he said to Mrs. Collins, as John's mistress had followed the Colonel to the front door.

"I wonder that she has been walking so long this morning," remarked Charlotte.

"It is a perfect spring day outside," replied the Colonel. "If I were not called to do more leave-taking elsewhere, I would walk the park to see if I could discover her."

Elizabeth was still almost another hour in returning home. When Soqedziel opened the door for her, his first thought was how fatigued she appeared. But there was something else; strong emotions plagued her, though she sought to control them. Elizabeth appeared to be tormented with pain and disgrace, even sorrow, though he thought they were all directed inwards. She had a letter clutched in her hand which she ran upstairs to first deposit in her chambers before she sought the company of Charlotte and Maria.


Elizabeth continued to walk every day. Soqedziel noticed she had a determined look when she set out most mornings. Twice he saw her transferring a letter from her garment pocket to her pelisse's pocket. His curiosity was piqued, though he would not snoop in her room to read the letter's contents. The angel could only speculate that Mr. Darcy had written her a letter. After all, the Colonel had been sitting in the parlor with Mrs. Collins and Maria when Elizabeth had been out walking for so long that last morning. Perhaps that was why Mr. Darcy had called? To pass on the letter?

It must be some postscript to that disastrous proposal and argument that the two young people had had that evening. Darcy must have felt the need to justify himself to her. But how did Elizabeth feel about Darcy's explanations? There was so much Soqedziel wished to know. But Darcy was gone, and Elizabeth and Maria Lucas were slated to return to Meryton in less than a week's time. The angel had much to do and to discover.

Soqedziel thought that whatever was in that letter had not been shared with Mrs. Collins; Elizabeth kept the subject matter to herself. She was quiet and introspective whenever the angel came across her, often entirely lost in thought. Some issue plagued her as Elizabeth had a faraway look whenever she came back from a walk or she was the last to walk through the door whenever the party came back from an evening at Rosings. He even saw her sitting idle with her embroidery in her lap if the angel was called into the room. When the discussion of her return to Meryton was brought up, her mind was elsewhere—her thoughts were not on her family and home.

Elizabeth and Maria left on a Saturday, but Soqedziel found he was having a harder time getting the parsonage's real servant, John, to return from his visit to his sister. There would be no riding postilion on the carriage for the return home. The angel had to wait until Monday when the man-servant made his appearance before Soqedziel was freed from his parsonage duties.

Somewhere between Kent and Hertfordshire, a man turned into a woman—Miss Harriet Harrington—returning from Essex and a failed visit to a friend to secure a husband. Harriet-Soqedziel discovered, however, that she had arrived in Meryton before Elizabeth as she and Maria had traveled to London first and were spending a few days of pleasure there. They were due home sometime in the afternoon on Thursday.


It was the second week of May, and the weather was unparalleled. Penelope-Peliel welcomed her sister angel home with great affection as did Mrs. Harrington. There had been a long conversation for their mother's benefit about Harriet's trip to her friend, Miss Mead in Essex, with details about one or two gentlemen.

But when the angels were alone with only their embroidery and time, Harriet-Soqedziel shared details about all of the adventures and scenarios which had unfolded around her while acting as man-servant to the Collinses.

"What can be the meaning of that letter?" asked Soqedziel, who had still not satisfied her curiosity.

"Are you convinced it came from Mr. Darcy?" challenged Peliel, always the one to hold things in check.

"Yes. The more I've thought about it, the more I am convinced of it. His Pride must surely have been affronted by her accusations, and he wrote Elizabeth a letter—to explain."

"What do you suppose he is defending himself from?" asked Peliel.

"Despite his proposal being so offensive and off-putting, I do not believe that is what Elizabeth truly objected to nor what he would take offense to. I believe he felt inclined to say something about her attacks about her sister and Mr. Wickham," announced Soqedziel.

"Do you believe he has a defense?"

"Most likely," suggested Soqedziel. "I am sure Darcy has a logical explanation as to why he interfered in the growing romance between Mr. Bingley and Jane, but I do not know if Mr. Darcy's explanation will satisfy Elizabeth. And we have long suspected Mr. Wickham of double-dealing."

"Will it make her change her mind about him?" asked Peliel.

"Will her accusations be enough to change his behavior?" countered Soqedziel.

"Oh! How did I not see such an angle? How many years have we been paired together, attempting to find the good in humans, and yet I—like the human beings themselves—sometimes fall short," mourned Peliel.

"You are not as wily a creature as me," suggested Soqedziel. "You want Elizabeth to see good in Mr. Darcy. You want to find the best. I understand that there are trials these beings must go through in order to change. Do not fret."

"How must both think of the other in the case of Mr. Wickham," sighed Peliel.

"I am sure Mr. Darcy was quite enraged to believe Mr. Wickham was seen not just as a rival, but that Elizabeth favored Wickham more highly than she did him," said Soqedziel. Perhaps there was a bit of a wicked smile there on her lips. It did not work as well on a female face as it did on a male one.

"But what explanation could Mr. Darcy give that would change Elizabeth's mind?" Peliel frowned. "Darcy and Wickham knew each other as boys, and there was that inheritance that Wickham spoke of being cheated out of. I believe Mr. Darcy must have another explanation for that," concluded Peliel.

"Which must put Wickham in a wicked light," smirked Soqedziel. "You are most likely correct, dear sister." Harriet-Soqedziel put down her embroidery in frustration.

"I wonder that after hundreds of years of practice you remain so inept at it," sighed Penelope-Peliel.

"It is a pointless practice to force young ladies to pass the time with. I am one formed for action, not repose," snapped the angel.

"Mamma shall comment over your work and make you unpick it," said Peliel.

"Do you suppose Mr. Darcy shall ever recover from Elizabeth's suggestion that he didn't act like a gentleman?" asked Soqedziel.

Penelope-Peliel put down her needlework. She was so accomplished that it put Harriet's work to shame. It was an unfair comparison, and yet Mrs. Harrington did compare.

"I think that we might use that as a measure of victory," said Peliel. "Should Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy ever meet again, and he is actually civil to her, gentleman-like. Shall you concede that Pride can turn the cheek and be Humble even for a short period of time? I believe Mr. Darcy is a man who will always be Proud, but I believe he can show he has Humility as well."

"I may need to think more about it. And speaking of victories, I believe you need to concede Gluttony to me."

"Collins," murmured Peliel who took up her frame and began to run neat stitches through her work.

"Yes. We have discussed this back and forth. I wrote to you three times about his descriptions of the table at Rosings, and many more about having to wait on him at the parsonage. You have seen him eat and drink."

"But we never tried to reform him," argued Peliel who still kept her head down.

"Sometimes," said Soqedziel, who picked up her own embroidery. "We acknowledge a human as inevitable in their progress towards a Vice."

"It is a failing on our part if we are not able to properly test each of our candidates," muttered Peliel. She put down her work and looked at her sister angel. "But I will concede Gluttony."

"Shall we increase our bet another notch?" asked Soqedziel.

"Yes," agreed Peliel, who went back to work with swift fingers.


Peliel had news to share. Some of it was significant, others bits were just small stories of little outings and events in which she had participated while Harriet had been away. The most significant news was that almost every single young woman in town under the age of thirty was distraught—for the militia regiment was to leave in a fortnight.

"Where are they going?" asked Soqedziel.

"They are to camp near Brighton," answered Penelope. Mrs. Harrington sighed, as she was taking tea with them.

"I remember how much I loved the figure of a man in a uniform," remarked their mother whose eyes glazed over at the idea. The two angels looked at each other: perhaps some women never matured when it came to men in red coats with dashing smiles?

"I think half the young women here wish they could follow them. Brighton has many delights to offer, you know," said Penelope-Peliel.

"I do not think many families hereabouts can afford such a venture," remarked Harriet-Soqedziel. The Harringtons certainly could not, though angels purses were unlimited when it came to activities relating to their task.

"But a whole campful of soldiers," declared their mother, who still had her mind on men in uniform.

Peliel looked at Mrs. Harrington and decided to change the subject. "I have news about a certain person we have often discussed."

"Oh yes?" prompted Soqedziel.

"It is about Wickham. He is not to marry Miss King. She is gone to stay with her uncle at Liverpool," explained Peliel.

"She is a great fool for going away if she liked him," said Mrs. Harrington. If gossip was involved, their mother was all ears.

"I am not convinced there was much attachment on his side," asserted Soqedziel.

"How could he like such a nasty freckled thing?" declared Peliel. The angels' comments were the sort that their mother would expect of the two. They had to continue to act like vapid, jealous girls.

"But Colonel Forster's new wife has been making herself quite well known, and made ever so many friends," continued Penelope-Peliel. "She has parties or dinners practically every day and has made her house the center of activity since you went away. She is quite young, just eighteen. Imagine being married so young! But she and Lydia have become fast friends."

"I thought Lydia Bennet was not yet sixteen," commented Soqedziel.

" 'Tis true. Perhaps Mrs. Forster likes to have someone younger to order around? But most days we have been visiting there, rather than at Mrs. Philips house."

"She has indeed been a prolific hostess," agreed Mrs. Harrington. "I believe, Mrs. Forster is attempting to best any of the other married ladies in Meryton on their abilities to host a party or a dance or a pleasant evening—or simply just laying out a fine tea."

"She is such fun!" squealed Peliel. "There was one afternoon when I went for tea, and she promised us a dance in the evening (and you know, there would be officers aplenty to dance with, Mrs. Forster ensured that!). But what do you think we did? We dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes, on purpose to pass for a lady!"

"Fun, you had fun?" asked Harriet-Soqedziel, who looked at her fellow angel with wide eyes.

"Lydia was there and took the lead in this adventure with Catherine Bennet following along a little reluctantly," explained Peliel. "Lydia ran to the Philips' house to borrow a gown from her aunt, and Chamberlayne was remarkably willing. When the officers came in, the Bennet sisters succeeded in passing him off as a visiting lady for several minutes until the snickers and laughter gave them away."

"Fun?" Spqedziel pressed again, uncertain that she had heard the virtuous angel correctly. She was considering that perhaps they should spend more time apart. It might be good to stretch Peliel's wings.

Mrs. Harrington was laughing. "It was the funniest story when Penelope related it the first time, and I must say it does not lose its luster with the retelling."


Soqedziel was anxious to move about the parlors of Meryton to see how everything and everyone fared, but especially to see how her pet, Elizabeth Bennet, managed now that she had been returned to the bosom of her family. Peliel was correct, all of the young ladies were beside themselves at the prospect of losing the militia regiment, and nothing else was talked about. It seemed only Elizabeth and Jane Bennet were able to maintain any employment and could eat, drink, and sleep just the same as they had ever done.

Perhaps that was a bit of a lie as Jane, who had always been so sweet and bland, seemed a little guarded, and if the angels observed her intently: sorrowful. After all, they had at least a millennium of human observation to call upon and might very well claim to be experts. Jane Bennet was not happy because she was in love. But the object of that love had flown away, and no one had any idea when, or if, Mr. Bingley would return.

Whether he would come down for the summer was debated between various neighbors, especially Mrs. Bennet and anyone willing to discuss the matter with her. But no one likely to know had any information of a positive kind to give. It seemed Mr. Bingley did not choose to live at Netherfield Hall even if he had the lease of it.

So Jane was unhappy, and Elizabeth? The angels noticed she was less cheerful, less teasing in her manner than she had been before. Elizabeth was more contemplative. There must be a great deal on her mind as she eyed both her oldest and her youngest sisters whenever they were all in company together. Her family was what occupied Elizabeth Bennet, but Soqedziel and Peliel wanted to know if her own issues plagued her as well? Did she think about Mr. Darcy? What had truly been in that letter, and did Elizabeth think of Darcy in a different light now?

It seemed that she considered Mr. Wickham differently as she was cool in her interactions with Wickham, and often avoided him, though Elizabeth was subtle about it. They observed her suddenly standing to seek the company of a friend if she saw him making his way towards her, or taking the last seat at a card table, so she was ensured of not being saddled with his company during an evening. Elizabeth no longer sought out Mr. Wickham's company: that was telling.


One young lady's gloom was cleared away about the militia moving on. Lydia Bennet received an invitation from Mrs. Forster to accompany her to Brighton. Word of Lydia's good fortune spread quickly to her friends in Meryton. Envy was in the hearts of most of the young women who did not receive such a favored gift as an invitation to Brighton as the select friend of the wife of the colonel.

When Lydia came to share the news with her dear, dear friends, Penelope and Harriet, she was motivated entirely by her own feelings of happiness and spared not a minute for how her two friends might feel. She had a restless ecstasy about her as she related her good fortune to the two angels and asked for—almost demanded—their congratulations. Catherine had come with her, though Kitty was not to go to Brighton.

"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia, though I am not her particular friend. I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older," Catherine Bennet declared almost as soon as she sat down.

Penelope-Peliel was sympathetic and said so. "I felt just the same when Harriet went to visit Miss Mead and left me behind. At least you have your other sisters." That point was no consolation to poor Catherine.

Lydia did not seem to notice the exchange at all but was detailing her vision of what her trip to Brighton would entail. Surely it comprised every possibly earthly happiness. She painted a picture of the bathing-place full of officers with herself at the center; the object of attention to tens, nay to scores of them. Lydia spoke of all the glories of the camp: its tents stretched forth with an elegant uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the merry, and dazzling with scarlet.

Once their energetic and morose guests left, the two angels stared at each other in silence for many minutes.

"Another one is flying away from us," declared Peliel finally. She seemed as troubled as Catherine Bennet had been. Soqedziel thought her fellow angel was identifying with Kitty, just then, in feeling left behind. That was a human sentiment.

"I believe we were correct to identify Miss Lydia Bennet as Lust though," maintained Soqedziel. "Consider that creature at a watering hole where there are so many soldiers! I wonder that you do not concede her over to me as a Vice with this move."

Peliel was silent for a long time.

Soqedziel continued when her companion angel seemed not inclined to speak. "The temptations in Brighton must be greater than at home, and Mrs. Forster is very young and not likely the best chaperone for such a determined flirt as Lydia Bennet. At least in Meryton, she has her older sisters to hold her in check, perhaps even her father's occasional influence, though Mrs. Bennet strongly encourages her outrageous nature."

"I should think she is too poor to truly attract much attention. And despite what Lydia asserted—that she would be the center of at least six officers' notice—I think she will find there will be competition," asserted Peliel.

"You are considering marriage and honorable outcomes," Soqedziel pointed out, "but do not forget that we are considering Lust. Lydia has a volatile character with only youth and an empty mind and wildness as characteristics to make her a target for a man with Lustful intentions."

Peliel squeaked, looking at Soqedziel with wide eyes. "I fear you are correct, dear. I want to follow Lydia now, to protect her! Poor, poor Lydia. This is not to end well for her; is it?"

"But will you concede?" asked Soqedziel.

"I cannot," and that other-worldly light flashed out of Peliel. "That is not in my nature, my form, to give up. I can; I must hope for the best for her."