Charles Bingley was besotted. There was no doubt about it. Darcy had often seen the man falling in love. But Darcy wondered if this was different. It had been some weeks now, and Bingley had continued to expound Miss Bennet's many graces and beauty and gentility. Darcy worried this sustained infatuation was only because there were no other heads to turn his interest. While in town, Bingley was apt to enjoy a woman's company, tout her as a beauty to be beheld by all, and dance the eve away with a pretty face. He would praise them all, but he easily moved on to the next ball, ready to find the next bell. But another possibility was that this was Bingley in love; not falling in love. Darcy had seen some new signs in Bingley that showcased his feelings as perhaps different this time. His boundless energy was wound up in a nervous pitch which Darcy had never seen before. Bingley was always effortless ease and charm - but now Darcy would find him at times alone and puzzling. Darcy would surprise him out of his thoughts, and Bingley would stutter some nonsensical excuse for his distraction. Still, Darcy felt the situations in environment could account for this difference. Or perhaps Bingley's nervous musings were over the changes he would face becoming a land owner. Bingley had known responsibilities before, but this was indeed a big change.

Darcy was a well read man, and had enjoyed many poems on love. But he had never truly dissected it, considered it for himself. He more often than not believed that the poets wrote of passion, infatuation, or lust. Love seemed a higher calling, a deeper truth he had yet to find in a person so wholly unrelated to him. He loved his home - he honored Pemberley as the pinnacle of love. Generations before him had put their blood and goodwill into that home, and he was determined to continue that tradition. The estate had sustained not only the Darcy family, but the tenants, community, and county in times of trouble and prosperity. The place restored his soul, and in return he would care for it, truly love it, in all sense of the word.

He loved Georgiana, and his cousin, Richard. Though he loved them both for themselves, he also understood that they each represented something else to him - a truth and a goodness in the world he was famished to find. Georgiana was that which needed protection. She gave him purpose in a way nothing else had. To be her guardian was a weighty responsibility, but to be her brother, her beloved brother, was perhaps the larger calling. Darcy truly saw her as the innocence of the world, and he treasured her simple kindness and trusting nature. Thinking on her made his heart wretch, knowing that which she had endured at the hands of that scoundrel.

Richard was a cousin, but more a brother to him. He represented brotherhood, and the duty and respect found in a truly good man. The affable, honorable, giving soldier, in the truest sense of the words. He loved the trust and comfort he found in Richard, and he loved the trust Colonel Fitzwilliam extended to any man worthy of it.

Pemberley, Georgie, Richard - these were all easy to love. The strife, the longing, the pain which the poets wrote of - was it love? Did Hamlet love Ophelia, in his dark dour way? He was more inclined to believe Hamlet in love than Romeo - that foolish passion was certainly lust. But if the Bard did write of love, how could Hamlet be so selfish and so utterly mean. Was love difficult, maddening, impassioned?

Darcy froze as the image and essence of Elizabeth Bennet filled his mind and senses. Yes, the feelings he had for that woman were difficult, maddening, impassioned. But was that feeling love? He stared at the ceiling in the darkness of his room. It was before dawn, and he lie awake, tortured by dreams and nightmares swirled together into something heady, frightening and bittersweet. Darcy cursed his ignorance. He had never felt something like this for any woman. Was it infatuation; lust? Or was it the very lifeblood of existence - a truth of the world - that he was made for her?


Darcy tried to clear his head of the unwanted, unfamiliar doubts which cursed his mind. A hard ride once the sun peeked over the horizon did little to soothe his soul, a cup of dark black coffee did little to clear his mind, and a day full of visiting tenants did little to distract him. They were a sorry sight, Darcy and Bingley, sitting somberly at the table of Mr. And Mrs. Harrison, taking tea and feigning interest in their wheat crop history.

"That was dreadful!" Bingley complained after they left the home and began trotting across the estate. "What is wrong with us, Darce? I am not surprised at my own absent-mindedness, but you! I've never seen you so preoccupied." He laughed softly but did not wait for Darcy to share his thoughts. "We must be done with work today, else these people call us both dullards. Come - let us return home. I will invite Charles Lucas, that will make four! We will drink and play cards poorly and lose our money to Hurst. That sounds a much better way to spend this dreadful day."

Darcy wished for anyone but Charles Lucas to join them, but he would not put up a fight. Nursing a drink did sound better than dealing with estate business. They might agree to some awful agreement in their disinterested manner.

Hurst was more than happy to down more of his brother's finest brandy, and was hopeful that in Bingley's agitated state he could walk away with some extra cash. As long as he wasn't paired with him! Hurst pushed them to play Vingt-et-un until Mr. Lucas joined them, and was happy to begin reaping his rewards.

Bingley drank perhaps too quickly for his own good, and was soon in much better cheer, if not improved attention. He lost enough games that he insisted on quitting and chuckled as he convinced the pair to play piquet until Lucas arrived. He needed some funds to gamble once their guest joined them. He stood and paced back and forth from Hurst to Darcy as they played, making telling faces which Hurst badgered him about. Soon he was good-heartedly thrown from the room, as Hurst insisted on a fair game with Mr. Darcy. Bingley left to await Mr. Lucas, as he suddenly was filled with a compelling urge to to question Charlie Lucas again. Perhaps Lucas would indulge some encouragement about Miss Bennet.

When Charlie Lucas did arrive, he was greeted with an overly active handshake, which Bingley noticed too late. With a sheepish smile, he bid Lucas to follow him up to the game. But, as he approached the room, he looked back at his friend, and decided to lead him astray to his study.

"Lucas, please - indulge me in a short conversation before we meet Darcy and Hurst. I am sure Hurst would like the extra time to try and set Darcy up. Darcy is exceedingly sharp - even now when he's been distracted, he has managed to trounce Hurst!"

Charlie Lucas smiled, somewhat confused at Bingley's words, but did not bother to try and follow the conversation. "Of course, Bingley." He civilly agreed, while accepting a tumbler of brandy. Bingley bid them to sit at a pair of armchairs near the fire, which held Bingley's attention for a full minute before turning to Charlie.

"Mr. Lucas -"

Charlie interrupted the man, saying "Come now, Mr. Bingley - I thought we were friends …" Charlie kept a straight face, but it was easy to see the smile in his clever eyes.

"Yes, yes! Of course! Lucas…." Bingley still struggled to finish his sentence. How was he to clandestinely bring up Miss Jane Bennet to her closest neighbor.

Noting the man's struggle, Charlie Lucas filled the empty room with words, hoping to put the man at ease. He noted how very young Bingley seemed at that moment, slightly too deep in his cups. "Bingley - it is so pleasant for this home to be filled again. You have brought much joy to the neighborhood. I hope you are enjoying your time here at Netherfield."

"Yes … Yes I am most pleased with the place. My neighbors are exceedingly charming and I do consider myself very lucky to have found the place."

Charlie continued, bringing up Bingley's intended discussion point for him: "Yes, the Bennets are a very spirited family. As I said before, they are rich in love for each other, and are happy to share their goodness with their fellow man."

Bingley turned his gaze from Lucas to the fire, and he fiddled with the arms on the chair, while a foot impatiently tapped on the floor. Charlie Lucas still felt he could not overstep and encourage him too far, but instead noted: "Yes, I had the pleasure of seeing them just the other morning. Miss Jane Bennet is looking much improved from her illness, thanks to you and your excellent care. The family was saying how very much they wished to thank you and your sisters."

"Oh - really the honor was mine. Miss Bennet was a model patient and houseguest."

"I can believe it. She does not strive to be an ideal lady, yet she often is."

Hearing her praise upon his lips, Bingley was suddenly struck with an attack of fear. He jumped from his seat and scuttled behind the chair, and his hands gripped the back of the seat until his knuckles turned white. With big eyes, he looked upon Mr. Lucas and quietly asked, "Do you think so?"

Charlie, taking a sip of brandy, allowed Bingley to panic for a moment, considering it good for Jane. "Well - who would not?" He quipped with a slight smile. After a beat of a moment, he continued: "But I admit, over all these years, we have never become close. Not like Lizzy - ah - Miss Elizabeth and myself. Miss Jane Bennet will make some man very happy with her goodness and devotion, that I do not question."

Charlie contained a chuckle as he watched the young man fully digest the words and slowly relax. After a moment, he nodded, and agreed: "Yes! She is the epitome of a worthy woman."

"The younger Bennet ladies were questioning if you would really host a ball. They were most convinced that you would. Netherfield has not been open to the neighborhood for quite a few years, probably five now," Charles mused softly, taking another sip of the fine brandy.

Bingley almost lunged back into his chair at this advancement. His nervous energy had transformed from worry to excitement. "Yes! We had considered that. You believe the neighborhood would be amenable to a ball?"

"Certainly." Charlie civilly noted.

"Well - I shall task my sister to start preparations. Yes … Oh to dance the night away with her again is just what I need!" Bingley pinked slightly when he understood what he had shared. Charlie merely smiled softly and asked Bingley if he believed Mr. Hurst had had enough of losing to Mr. Darcy. With a roar of laughter, Bingley agreed and the pair joined the card party and chuckled to see Mr. Darcy held all the winnings Hurst had taken earlier from Bingley.


After two hours of games, Bingley happily left them to find his sister, and announce to her his excellent plan to host a ball. He wanted her to begin right away, now that he had lost his cash to Lucas and Darcy. The pair of them made a smashing team at whist. He wouldn't play the fool again for another game.

Hurst grumbled about his losses and relinquished himself to nap upon a settee. That left Darcy and Lucas to congratulate the other and split their winnings. "Mr. Darcy - I hate to be so forward, but I am obliged to ask you about a Mr. Wickham."

Darcy froze mid-count, frowning at Lucas. "Are you acquainted?" His question sounded more like an icy accusation.

"I have been introduced, but I know more of him from the impressions he has given others in Meryton." Charlie awaiting some sort of response, but Mr. Darcy kept his silence and took a long drought from his tumbler of brandy. "I felt you should be made aware … He seems to gather sympathy from young ladies by abusing your character. You must know the general impression of you will only degrade further if he is unchecked."

"How do you know this?" Darcy seethed. "Did Mr. Wickham try and ingratiate himself to you, along with these foolish women?"

"No. Miss Elizabeth Bennet came to me and shared his wretched tale. She was shocked by your apparent cruelty."

"What!?" Darcy barked, as he quickly stood from the card table. He turned from Mr. Lucas and paced the floor, as was his want. Mr. Hurst had the wherewithal to feign sleep. After a moment, he stopped and turned sharply to Mr. Lucas. "My cruelty. Hah! The blackguard lives in the muck and breathes lies."

Charlie continued to sit; although he was worried at raising Mr. Darcy's ire, he sustained a calm persona. "Mr. Darcy - please know I've shared this with you because I do not believe the man. But my discernment does not dictate the opinion of the neighborhood. And he is a charming, genial man." Mr. Lucas did not say that Mr. Darcy had been just the opposite to the locals, but he hoped it was subtly implied. "You obviously have some history; I thought it the just action to notify you of his besmirching, and provide you an opportunity to ... persuade him to alter his behavior."

Darcy continued to slowly comprehend the information from Mr. Lucas. Miss Elizabeth believed Wickham! He should have let Richard run the man through. How could she!? Was she not as clever as he believed her? She could read about farm techniques but could not see through the vile scum that was Wickham? "Fools." he muttered, thinking poorly of those taken in by his smile.

"Mr. Darcy … If you know what he is, should you not warn the gentleman of the neighborhood? I am tempted myself to tell my father, from just a few days observation." Charlie hated to overstep propriety, but he feared the ruination this Mr. Wickham might leave in his wake.

Darcy's face was still red, and he cursed under his breath. "Am I to be forever shackled to the man?" He bitterly complained. With a stiff jaw and a curt sigh, he became fully aware of his responsibility. Yes - his duty. His father had indulged the man and released him to world. The Darcy family should curtail the monster they had helped create. In a cold tone, he announced, "Yes. You are right Mr. Lucas. Leave it to me." His eyes drifted to the fire, where he watched the logs burn. His mind tormented him - an image of Elizabeth listening to that man with compassion and righteousness blazing in her eyes. He felt as if he were kicked in the gut. Damn that Wickham.

Charlie spent the rest of the evening deftly balancing Mr. Darcy's dark mood and Mr. Bingley's effervescence. Luckily he was spared Mr. Hurst's belligerence, as that man maintained his position upon the settee.