Author's Note: GASP! AN UPDATE! Sorry. Life gets in the way sometimes, doesn't it? I appreciate all of the feedback I've received, and honestly it encourages me to keep going. Every time I get an e-mail alert, I'm nudged closer to my keyboard. I hope to get more done this weekend, so hopefully you won't be waiting for another *cough*fivemonths*cough*.

It was not long before news of Mr. Bingley's engagement spread through the whole of Meryton. Netherfield's bevy of servants was released, save for a few placed on retainer to move into Mr. Bingley's London house, when the purchase was complete.

Elizabeth's dearest sister Jane, who herself had heard the news in town before Lizzie had the opportunity to break it to her gently, was pretending to be unaffected. Their ever-critical mother had taken to being completely vexed over the "ill-temper" and "unpleasant nose" of Mr. Bingley, most assuredly in an attempt to defend her eldest daughter. It was only Elizabeth, though, who seemed to notice a dip in the false smile Jane had learned to wear. Her posture was not nearly as tall, and the young woman's color was turning pale despite the warm summer sun.

The two ladies sat in the afternoon parlor of Longbourne house, idly stitching pale yellow ribbons into the lacy edges of three bonnets, one for each sister to be a bridesmaid to Lizzie. Mary had refused the occupation, insisting that being part of the congregation was far more useful for a woman baptized in the church. Jane, Kitty and Lydia had ignored her crowing.

When Jane pricked her finger on the needle she used, without the slightest flinch of pain crossing her features, Elizabeth felt she had had quite enough.

"You cannot pretend anymore, Jane," Lizzie's bonnet landed heavily in her own lap. "I refuse to watch you suffer in this manner."

Jane looked up, her usually-hollow eyes blinking with surprise. "I…I beg your pardon?"

The younger sister sighed, "You act as if Mr. Bingley's engagement is nothing at all to you, Jane. I know this is not true."

Looking back down at her hands, Jane seemed to take a trembling breath. "What other choice do I have?" She did not look up. "My…Mr. Bingley will marry whether I show my true feelings or continue…to hide them."

Lizzie noticed a small spot on her sister's soft blue gown that darkened with the wetness of Jane's quietly –falling tear. Another joined it soon after. She moved forward and knelt at Jane's feet.

"You have been wronged. It is only natural to feel sorrow. Let it out, Jane."

Instead of more tears, Jane laughed. It was not jovial, as per usual with the young woman. No, this laugh was bitter.

"Your situation is far more disturbing than mine, yet you pretend that your own heart is unbroken. Do not lecture me, Lizzie. I will not bear it. Least of all, from you." Jane stood without another word and left the room, placing the bonnet on a table as she left.

Elizabeth was stunned. She had never heard a cross word from Jane. Climbing from her knees, she looked at her writing desk.

Papa,

She wrote.

What can I do? The whole family is falling apart without you. I marry Mr. Collins in a fortnight, and Jane despises me. Mary is on the verge of becoming a bitter maid at seventeen., and Lydia and Kitty expose themselves to more ridicule for being relentless flirts! The worst is that their behavior is encouraged by a selfish, loathsome mother who sits above the stairs and whimpers of a loss she does not even feel strongly.

Jane's heart is so broken. I slighted Mr. Darcy, and now he engages his little sister to Jane's one true love. Could it be that this is all of my own doing?

Oh Papa, I miss your guidance. I miss your sense. What would you have me do to save our family?

With the heaviest of sighs, Lizzie folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket on her gown. She reached for Jane's unfinished bonnet to continue the tedious work.

Hooves pounded on gravel road as Darcy approached his estate at Pemberley. He dismounted well before the steed had come to a complete stop. He was removing his riding gloves as he approached the massive estate, his steward practically jogging alongside to keep up with the man's pace.

"Welcome home, Master Darcy. Can I take your things? The cook has prepared a small dinner for you…" he was cut off before being allowed to finish his details of the evening.

"I have no stomach for dinner. Please divide it amongst the staff. I require only solitude tonight. I will have no need for any of the staff this evening." His tone was resolute, but most definitely not unpleasant.

The steward nodded, understanding his master's tone and mood, having worked with him for so many years. Mr. Darcy was a gentle man with a seemingly stern exterior. He walked away to advise the staff to enjoy the dinner amongst themselves, then take the evening off to be with their families.

Darcy climbed the stairs two at a time as he ascended to his bed chambers, his jaw clenched tensely. The large doors closed behind him and he loosened his cravat. The bottle of brandy near his bed was calling to him. The deal had been made in London a week earlier, when he gave his sister's hand to his best friend. Both had seemed somewhat hesitant about the match, despite the fact that they were very good friends. With Georgiana so young and Bingley so attached to the Miss Bennet in Hertfordshire, neither looked forward to their nuptials.

It was for the best, was it not? Keeping his sister's fortune from the hands of fortune-seekers and keeping his best friend's interest in mind seemed to be the best thing he could do for himself and his family. The smooth brown liquor sloshed in the glass as he lifted it to his lips and took a long draw. It smelled sweet, but had a warm bite down the back of his throat.

Had it not been for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps things had been different. She was to marry that imbecile. How could she?

Darcy paced the room slowly, his thumb rubbing an intricate carving on the side of the glass. After a moment, he turned to his writing desk and sat. He gripped a quill and pulled out a piece of paper to begin his letter.