Author's Note: I would like to thank Patagonian for beta-reading this fic and Carlanime and Sandra for the encouragement. The characters and situations in this story were originally invented by Jane Austen. I'm merely playing with them.

She was wrong. Darcy had had enough time to compile a list of topics, and was determined to make the conversation take off. Gone were the days when he was tongue-tied in her presence.

When she came back, he was standing by the window.

"I hope it is not raining as badly in Derbyshire, or my peaches will be ruined," he said.

She said nothing.

"I think I understood from Mrs. Gardiner that you had visited Pemberley," he persisted.

She blushed.

"I hope you liked it."

"Yes, I did," she finally said. "It is beautiful place."

"I'm glad to hear it."

But she had taken up her needlework again, and did not even look up.

For a moment, Darcy was at a loss to say something without boasting about his estate.

"I hope Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner will come to visit me for a few weeks in the summer," he finally said.

She looked up in surprise.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner! At Pemberley?"

"Yes. Mrs. Gardiner has some acquaintances in the neighbourhood and Mr. Gardiner can fish in the park. If he can take time away from his business, it will be delightful."

"I was not aware you had more than a passing acquaintance with my uncle and aunt," she said.

Darcy knew where her confusion came from. He had amends to make, and he had better make them as soon as possible. He set out to praise the Gardiners as warmly as he could, confident that it was no less than they deserved. The more he said, the more she blushed. But she looked pleased, and he was soon persuaded by her manner that she was not unwilling to forgive his old insults.

From that point, conversation became easier. They canvassed many subjects, from the housekeeper at Pemberley to the difference between Mr. Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh as managers of Rosings Park, and Mrs. Johnson's success in the ton. Darcy had never felt so happy to be considered more entertaining than needlework.

He had just started telling her about Mr. Bingley's younger sister's nonsensical elopement with a Mr. Rushworth, and how Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst had chased them from London to Scotland and back to Northamptonshire, where they had found the couple married and living on their estate, and the new Mrs. Rushworth in a dispute with her mother-in-law, when a carriage was heard. Miss Bennet recognized it as belonging to the Gouldings.

"They are having a large party for dinner, tomorrow," she said by way of explanation.

A Miss Anna Goulding was introduced. She looked no older than eighteen and was carrying what appeared to be half the contents of her wardrobe.

"Oh, Miss Bennet!" she said, rushing towards her, "I begged Papa to lend me the carriage, you must advise me! I don't know what to wear for tomorrow, and you know that…"

She saw Darcy and gave him an apprehensive glance. She then whispered something in Miss Bennet's ear.

"Well," she answered, "in that case we must have you look as smart as possible. Anna, this is Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh, a family friend. Mr. Darcy, this is Miss Anna Goulding."

The two ladies were soon deep in discussion about muslin and gloves. Darcy, not wishing to intrude on such feminine conversation, hid behind the newspaper, savouring his title of family friend while feigning interest in the horse-races.

Miss Goulding did not leave until four and without a promise from Miss Bennet that she would do something or other to the gown that had been decided on for the next day. She had many squeals of gratitude and adoration to make before she left.

When she was gone, it was time to get ready for dinner. Miss Bennet showed Darcy to his room. She was oddly blushing when she opened the door for him.

It was comfortable, not big, but with a good bed and a fire which seemed all the warmer for sound of the rain clattering against the windows. It was obviously a young woman's room. There was an old bonnet on top of the closet, and a few framed embroideries on the wall. One of them gave the game away – the name "Jane" in cross-stitch point pronounced it to be Mrs. Johnson's old room.

The Bennets had always been a very feminine family, he remembered as he contemplated the relics of Mrs. Johnson's previous life. There were five daughters, and the name of the youngest came back to him – Lydia. She had been very young, he recalled, and prone to chasing officers. So she was the scandal, wasn't she? He hoped for her sake that she was in a farm-house somewhere, and not come upon the town. Those young women always looked so pitiable, and made him wish that human nature was different.

Dinner was served in the breakfast parlour. Mr. Bennet apologized for this.

"Lizzy and I eat all our meals here, since it's just the two of us. When my other daughters left the house, it seemed absurd to leave all those rooms open for nothing."

Miss Bennet mentioned Anna Goulding's visit to her father.

"And so she needed help with her dress because Mr. Lefroy dines at Haye-Park tomorrow?" he asked.

He then turned to Darcy.

"You should be here the week before a ball, Mr. Darcy. We get invaded by all the young ladies in the country. They all wish my daughter's advice on what to wear."

"Papa, you are exaggerating…"

"I dare say Miss Goulding's efforts were unnecessary," remarked Darcy. "If Mr. Lefroy really likes her, it won't matter what she is wearing."

"But Mr. Darcy, you have a sister," replied Miss Bennet with a smile, "Surely you must know that half the pleasure in Mr. Lefroy's visit is in deciding what to wear!"

Darcy had to confess that, whatever Georgiana's sartorial preoccupations were, she had never shared them with him.

Mr. Bennet's mind soon went back to steam engines. His nap had clearly restored him, and he had many questions to ask Darcy – many more than Darcy could answer. This seemed to surprise his host, who had taken him for an authority on the matter. Miss Bennet remarked that it was not to be imagined that all Mr. Johnson's friends should be as fascinated as he was with steam engines. After all, Mr. Johnson had many other pursuits.

Mr. Johnson's interest in politics and in banking were now canvassed, his friendships with several members of the House of Lords and the House of Commons, and his trade with the West Indies. Darcy had the distinct impression that he was being questioned about his acquaintance with him, and possibly made fun of. But he could hardly reveal that what interested him most about Mr. Johnson was his sister-in-law, and so he feigned an interest in politics beyond what he had ever felt, gave a hint about considering a run for Parliament, and remained silent on some of the topics on which he most disagreed with his hosts' relation.

Formalities were observed as well as they could, and after dinner Miss Bennet retired to the library.

"Let us not make her wait too long," said Mr. Bennet as he helped Darcy to brandy.

"It must be a great comfort for you to have your daughter live with you," observed Darcy.

"You mean to say it is very selfish of me, and I dare say you are partly right – no, no, don't deny it, I have had too many a remonstrance from Mr. Johnson not to know my faults. But I flatter myself that I know Elizabeth's disposition as well as anybody else, and that she is happier single than badly married. Besides, she will have a few thousand pounds upon my death (whatever I am able to save), and she has some true friends who will be happy to assist her in anything. Of course I would have been happier if the right man had asked for her hand, but that never happened, and it is unlikely to happen now. She is not getting any younger, after all."

Darcy said nothing. It had often given him goose bumps to think against what kind of future she had refused his hand, and how much honesty, even towards a man she thought the most worthless of villains, was worth to her. He was glad to find her situation improved. He had often wished a handsome, sensible and agreeable baronet to come her way, only to become jealous of such an imaginary character, and to berate himself for his own selfishness.

Staring at the dreary countryside, he dwelt on the expression Mr. Bennet had used, badly married. Who better than himself had proved to be a bad husband, who had proposed to one woman in such a disgraceful manner, and helped another to her ruin by marrying her? How could anybody suppose that Miss Bennet would accept him now, or that her father would give his consent to the match?

He was shaken from his reverie by his host, who proposed that they should take their drinks to the library, where Miss Bennet was undoubtedly waiting for them.

The evening passed quietly away. Darcy offered to read to Mr. Bennet, observing that Miss Bennet was needed with Miss Goulding's gown, with which he would be no help at all. This earned him a smile, and he pressed his luck.

"I hope you will reward me with some music later," he said. "I remember listening to you with much pleasure at Lucas Lodge and Rosings Park."

She turned absolutely scarlet and buried herself in her work.

She recovered enough, however, and her performance was just as he remembered it to be – playful, unaffected and charming. Her technique had improved over the years, and Darcy could well imagine that in her hours of boredom, in the afternoon, practising the instrument was a welcome distraction. He requested more, praised her performance (much to her embarrassment and the satisfaction of her father), and engaged her in conversation about the latest music from London. He was not surprised to find her more partial to Mozart than Beethoven or Schubert.

It ended too soon. Supper was served early, and after a few games of backgammon with Mr. Bennet and his daughter working on the gown nearby, they retired to bed. There was good hope that the weather would improve by the morning, and an early breakfast was ordered to allow Mr. Darcy to reach Pemberley by nightfall.

Darcy could not help noticing that Miss Bennet had frequently glanced at him during the evening. He wished he could read anything in it other than curiosity. She had not met him with composure, but after what had passed between them, even after so many years, it was not a great surprise. If he had been in her place, he would not have dropped his resentment so soon. She had not looked at him with the veiled contempt she had been used to, and that, to his detriment, he had failed to notice until it was too late. The situation, therefore, was not hopeless, and another look of hers was all the encouragement he needed.

It seemed almost unreal that after so many years of estrangement, he was suddenly sleeping under the same roof as her. He felt rather restless at the thought, and sleep was elusive. He wondered if she was thinking about this. Had his proposal, and his subsequent letter, ever had the same significance for her as it had for him? Or had she just dismissed it as an unpleasant incident caused by a badly-behaved suitor? She had not forgotten it, of that he was sure. But he longed to know if her embarrassment came just from the memory of what had happened in Kent, or from a memory – even unfriendly – of him.

The next day, the sky had cleared up and it promised to be a beautiful day. Miss Bennet joined Darcy at breakfast.

"My father will probably not come down before you leave," she said. "He sleeps very badly, and I let him sleep as much as possible."

He assured her that he did not mind in the least.

"Do you have any plans to be in town next winter?" he asked.

"No, none at all. I never leave Longbourn unless Mrs. Johnson can come to take my place and Mr. Johnson can never spare her in the winter. She can usually come in October, though. I will probably go to stay with my uncle and aunt for a month, then."

"In October! I may cross town on my way from Pemberley to Rosings, then. Maybe…" he hesitated. "I will travel from Pemberley to town in July. Would you allow me – or maybe I ask too much – to call on Longbourn then?"

Miss Bennet looked surprised at the request.

"Of course! I am sure I – we – my father will be happy with your company."

"Thank you."

And on this happy note, he drove off to Pemberley.