Darcy's fantasies had changed. He used to imagine Elizabeth naked in his bed, his body pressed against hers. Now he felt guilty if he did so. She was too much a friend, too much a person, too much someone important to him to imagine her that way without her willingness.

He wanted to share the pleasures of the bedroom with her. He wanted her to be there, smiling and happy. But he couldn't imagine her naked until she chose to let him see her that way.

Instead he remembered how she clutched his hand in sympathy for his father's death.

Nothing had ever felt like this before. Darcy had felt tenderness for a woman before. It was why he could never keep more than one mistress at a time, like his uncle would. He would feel guilty. But it was so much more now that he felt. If she were wealthy and had decent connections, he would flee, because he would fall in love with her and want to marry her.

The inequality kept him safe. She was too beneath him, he would be the benefactor, and she would be someone he cared for.

Something changed that night when they examined her father's books together in Elizabeth's childhood haunt. Until then he had not believed that she would accept an offer of protection from him. But something in her words. He believed she had divined his desires, or maybe had formed her own. There was a new undertone of intimacy and meaning.

She was still hesitant though. He must let her become accustomed to the idea and to him.

Whenever Darcy had a free moment, sitting by the window in his room, or next to the fireplace in the library, he thought about Elizabeth. He imagined them together. Darcy planned to install her in a pretty two story stone cottage on the outskirts of the estate. They could have so many conversations and walks together. If Lord Matlock could introduce Georgiana to his mistress, he could introduce his sister to Elizabeth. They would be friends.

He so looked forward to having her so close always.

One day early in November, Darcy spent the morning shooting with Bingley. Early in the afternoon he took a long walk around Netherfield. That evening Bingley's party was to dine with a family who lived on the opposite side of Netherfield from Meryton, and Darcy was not looking forward to it. They were to miss a party where he could have seen Elizabeth. Halfway through his walk, he saw two women walking arm and arm in the distance and realized one of them was Elizabeth, and the other was heavy with child.

"Hallo, Miss Elizabeth. What do you do so far out from Meryton?"

Though she was taller than Elizabeth, Darcy realized the other woman looked surprisingly young for a mother. She had a tilt in her eyes and a grin that was similar to Elizabeth's. Elizabeth blushed, and her face was turned a little away from both of them.

As he hurried up, Darcy bowed and said, "Would you introduce your friend to me?"

Even before she spoke, Darcy realized this was the sister who had famously married a blacksmith. Elizabeth shrugged and with a red face said, "Mr. Darcy, this is my sister, Mrs. Lydia Brown. Lydia, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire."

The girl giggled as she curtsied awkwardly. "My, you are even taller up close. I am quite near the tallest girl I know, but you tower above me as well. My Tom is not nearly so tall as you, but he is brawnier."

Darcy quirked an eyebrow. He glanced at Elizabeth expecting her to meet his look, but instead she studied the ground.

Of course. He hated it when friends met Lady Catherine, and this must be worse.

Instinctively, Darcy stepped between the women and took an arm from each of them. He flashed Lydia his strongest smile. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Brown. I consider your sister a dear friend, and hope we might be friends as well."

Darcy meant it too.

Social distinctions must be maintained; he was her superior and would not forget it. But friendship didn't mean equality. It meant good will and a sincere concern for the other's welfare. She was Elizabeth's sister and Darcy was prepared to think well of Lydia.

Lydia giggled. "That is a pretty smile, Mr. Darcy. Very pretty."

Pretty was not his preferred word. But at least Elizabeth's sister approved of him. Darcy smiled at Lydia again. "I have put great effort into that smile. It is an accomplishment I am excessively proud of."

Elizabeth giggled as Lydia replied, "You did! I thought only woman practiced their smiles."

"You ought" — Elizabeth's giggles stopped her from speaking — "you ought to tell her the story of how you perfected it."

Darcy grinned, pleased that Elizabeth's embarrassment had faded. "Nay. And you shall not share it either — I told you that tale in the strictest confidence."

"La! You need not tell me. I'm sure you used a mirror."

"He did not — the real story is more delightful by far."

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and she impishly grinned back. "I am at liberty to reveal what the story was not."

"You make it sound like a great joke. I promise you, Mr. Darcy, I won't go and tell everyone, it will be ever so much more fun to hint about it like Lizzy is."

"I thank you kindly for the promise, but I fear as the tale involves another gentleman—"

"Oh! You practiced with your brother like I did with Kitty."

Darcy blushed. "My cousin — I have no brother."

Lydia's eyes lit up with an unholy eagerness. "Did you also practice kissing together? Me and Kitty did."

Darcy choked and a little squeak emitted from his throat. Which part should he be more shocked by?

Lydia's voice was a little hollow when she said. "I suppose not. Oh, well."

Darcy glanced to the other side. Elizabeth stared open mouthed at her sister. Darcy jostled her with his elbow and as soon as she glanced at him her face went rose red. "I…I had no…idea."

Recovering his equilibrium Darcy said urbanely, "From your surprise I take it you and Miss Jane never…"

The image popped into Darcy's mind and he found it weirdly arousing. Definitely something to not think about.

Elizabeth sharply looked at him. And while she blushed as hard as before, she looked less uncomfortable. "Shocking! Shocking, horrid suggestion." She pushed Darcy hard in the arm.

"La! You and Jane never did? Does that mean you also never—"

Elizabeth spoke fast to interrupt Lydia. "I now understand why everyone thought you were a poor influence on Kitty."

The other girl laughed. "You are so prudish. Have I shocked you, Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, but it does not surprise me that curiosity would cause you to experiment. I shall never think of girls' schools the same again. You and Miss Kitty can hardly be the only ones."

Elizabeth's voice was high. "What! Surely they don't—"

"Miss Elizabeth. You are well read and have a vivid imagination."

Elizabeth blushed even redder. Darcy grinned at her.

Lydia said, "I was determined not to like you, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy has said you're a friend, but I do not approve of quality. People like you and my uncle always expect everyone to bow and scrape all the time. Well, even if you have a nice smile I will not. We have some pride. I may not be rich and fancy like Mr. Phillips or you, but we keep a maid and a neat house."

Darcy stared at her. Being compared to Mr. Phillips shocked him almost as much as the suggestion he may have practiced kissing with Richard. "I am nothing like your uncle."

Lydia was somewhat taken aback by his sharp tone, and Elizabeth started laughing and laughing.

"Mr. Darcy — hahahaha — he, he doesn't, hahahaha, he thinks himself far too lordly to take a comparison to a country attorney kindly."

"He ain't a Lord. He's just a Mister. I know that. I'd respect him if he were a Lord."

Elizabeth kept laughing. Tears were actually forming on the edge of her eyes. He grinned, unable to resist Elizabeth's amusement, even if it was at his own expense. He had teased her just a minute before anyways.

"My uncle and cousin are Lords."

Lydia's eyes widened. "Oh. That's nearly Lord. Is this the cousin you practiced that pretty smile of yours with?"

"In a manner. Lord Derwent had me smile at his brother while he studied the effect and gave advice."

Lydia giggled.

They had walked up to a house in the village a quarter-mile from Netherfield, and Lydia pulled open the door. "Mr. Darcy, will you come in and take tea with me and Lizzy?"

Darcy bowed. "I would be delighted."

The house was a solidly built timber-framed structure. It was a clean, thoroughly aired house. There was a coal stove and pipe chimney in the front room. Lydia led them through one of the doors to a tiny parlor with a flower-patterned wallpaper and several old but clean sofas and solid wooden chairs. The pregnant girl began to heavily bend down to light the fire, but Elizabeth stopped Lydia with a hand on her shoulder and did it herself, her hands moving in quick efficient gestures to strike the match and stir the coals.

Lydia shouted from the door. "Lucy!"

A maid with a smudged face who looked to be almost as young as the mistress entered the room. Her cotton apron was dirty, and her hair askew. Lydia ordered her to bring out the china set. Once the girl left Lydia set the water on the stove to heat.

Smithing was a skilled trade, and it was often a profitable occupation. While she was no longer a member of the gentry, it did not look like Lydia's situation was very bad. Darcy had often visited the house of tenants and craftsmen on his lands, and this house looked prosperous. At a guess, Mr. Brown's income was far over a hundred pounds per annum. By the standards of the lower classes, it was a tidy sum.

The table was quickly set, with Elizabeth helping her sister. It was an old set that Darcy was quite sure had been purchased, likely by Mr. Brown's father, second hand. There were a few chips in the cups.

Lydia sat down as they waited for the water. "Lizzy, you should visit more. We have such fine country dances, I am too far along to really follow them anymore, but they are such fun. Two nights ago the miller got so drunk he tried climbing the steeple of the parish church, but he didn't get far before he fell and banged his head. But he was fine, just a big bruise, and we all laughed, and it was great fun. I am such good friends with everyone, and things are just so much more fun than being respectable and rich. You should marry like I did. I could help you find a good husband."

"I thank you for the offer, but I…" Elizabeth blushed and glanced at Darcy. "I am quite happy as I am."

"You are not. You cannot possibly be happy living with Uncle Phillips. Now, I know you want someone learned and readerly like you. But most of the better sort in the village can read. And the blacksmith two villages over spends half his spare money on books. He is unmarried, perhaps you would like him. He isn't as handsome as my Tom, but…"

Darcy smiled at the way Elizabeth's face screwed up. "Thank you very much. But I need no such introduction."

Lydia shook her head. "Is it so important you always look respectable? You can't be having any fun. Not at all. Mr. Phillips is a tyrant; a tyrant I say. Forget about keeping up appearances. You don't want to marry someone like him. And besides you are getting quite old. I'd be dreadfully embarrassed if I'd reached Jane's age and not married."

"Lydia, I do have fun. And…I am still, partly, respectable, and I shall stay that way."

Darcy still asked quickly, "Does it really matter so much to you? Being respectable?"

"I don't wish to be a blacksmith's wife, even if it would be fun…" she trailed off as Darcy stared at her. "Well, no…it is not so important."

Darcy smiled at her, and she smiled back, and then in a new nervous gesture he'd seen several times recently rubbed her hand over her neck and then over the top of her collarbones. It drew his eyes towards her bosom. He wanted to brush his hands over her skin.

The maid brought the hot water and poured it into a tea pot. She glanced curiously at Darcy and blushed.

Elizabeth said, "You do not think I should look for a strapping blacksmith to marry."

"You should act in a way that will make you happy. You should pay attention to the future. But you shouldn't care what other people think of you."

"Oh, well in that case I should marry a strapping blacksmith."

Lydia said, "You should. And not in jest."

At the same moment Darcy replied, "I do not mean that."

Lydia laughed tapping the tea pot in the middle of the table. "Just another minute. Ha, so you don't approve of gentlewomen marrying blacksmiths. I knew there was a little disdain in you."

"My uncle is a Lord. You can hardly expect otherwise. I will strive to be polite in my disdain."

"No need for that." Lydia laughed. "You talk to me, though of course it is only because you like Lizzy so much, I haven't spoken to any of my family or friends except Lizzy and Kitty since marrying. La! Mama always told me to marry, and then when I did she dropped me completely!"

Elizabeth said, "I do not believe she meant for you to be three months with child and for the husband to be a blacksmith."

Lydia poured the tea into Darcy's cup, followed by milk and sugar. From how her hands moved, Lydia had been only half taught how to do the ceremony. He sniffed the fragrant brew, and then took a cautious sip.

Lydia said, as she poured Elizabeth's tea and her own, "Mama only disliked that my husband is a blacksmith. She explained that everything the church says about never having any fun between men and women, that only is important if you have money."

Darcy's eyes cut to Elizabeth. She was staring at her sister again.

Lydia said, in a slightly defensive tone, "What, did she never explain that to you and Jane? No wonder neither of you are married yet. I imagine you just bat your eyes at men, and hope they will ask you. That is not the way to go about it at all. And Lord. You are twenty! I can't imagine being that old and never having a man…well it is very, very fun. Especially when you have such a man as I do."

"Do not say such things! Not in front of Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth's face was red, and she looked away from him.

Darcy tapped his fingers against the edge of the cup. What should he say?

Elizabeth bit her lip, and suddenly she sat up and looked directly at him with something wild in her dark eyes. "Mama advised me so recently. She did say such matters only matter if you have money."

Despite Lydia's presence, he felt as though Elizabeth was telling him something important. His heart suddenly beating faster Darcy said with his stomach clenched, "And do you plan to follow your mother's sage advice?"

He then looked away from Elizabeth. He'd tried to keep his voice casual and teasing, but didn't think he had.

Lydia laughed. "Lizzy never listens to Mama, even when she is right. What about you, Mr. Darcy, have you always been respectable? It would be a terrible shame if you have. A man as good looking as you are."

Elizabeth was now looking at him again, her face very red, but full of curiosity also.

"I… It is not quite respectable to be respectable in my circles. You have heard of how depraved high society is, I am sure."

Elizabeth kicked him under the table. "Mr. Darcy, that was no answer. If you insist I should not care about being respectable, you'll satisfy my curiosity."

He looked back at her. Her face was red, but she leaned forward eagerly biting her lip. What had gotten into Elizabeth? There was something in her eyes. Darcy felt a rush of lust.

"Do tell me."

Darcy looked down. He felt uncomfortable. "I have…not been respectable." He looked at Elizabeth again. Something of the glee that was present in her a moment earlier was gone.

She mouthed, "Oh."

"I think there was nothing wrong in the doing."

"No?"

"Truly I do not. It, is not a wrong thing. I…"

Lydia exclaimed, "La, do not become missish of a sudden, Lizzy. Of course your dear Mr. Darcy has had his way with women. His cousins didn't help him practice looking charming so that he could just smile at us."

"Of course not." Elizabeth's voice was flat.

Darcy worried. She'd seemed so promising a minute earlier. Maybe he should have lied? But that would have been absurd, and he would not lie to Elizabeth. What was she thinking? He couldn't try to explain himself or ask Elizabeth what really bothered her. Maybe it simply was that she liked him very much and disliked the thought other women had been with him.

It was not fair but he enjoyed the thought of being Elizabeth's first and, perhaps, only lover.

Lydia giggled. "Lizzy is quite prudish. Lizzy, you should go off with a man." She winked at Darcy. "It will make you so much happier."

"Do not say such things about me! I am not so uncontrolled as to lose my head. I am still a gentlewoman, just because I…I'll not throw all that I've been taught away. I'm not like you."

Elizabeth blanched and looked apologetically at Lydia.

Darcy felt a kick in his stomach. She must be saying that to him as well. Surely Elizabeth must realize what he hoped.

Lydia shrugged. "I know you think the worst of me, but I am happily married and you are not. I shall have a child soon, and I don't live with Mr. Phillips anymore."

Elizabeth exclaimed, "No! I do not think so ill of you."

Lydia ignored her and smiled at Darcy. "Mr. Darcy, what do you think of Uncle Phillips and my Mama? I do not understand how Lizzy stands them. It cannot last forever, and then she will need to escape like I did. Lizzy, you'd best find a good man to care for you while you are still young and pretty."

Elizabeth said, "Lydie, it isn't my place to judge you. Such matters are between you and providence. I did not mean to say it that way. I just wish to make my own choices."

"Lizzy does not like to talk about how much she dislikes Mama and Mr. Phillips, but you can tell me what you really think. I do not care."

"Lydia, please." Elizabeth's voice was pleading.

Lydia looked at her. "What I did was quite contrary to what the rich people claim girls should do. I do not care. Besides, they hate me more for marrying a blacksmith than for, what is the term that writer you adore used? The one in the play with the black man?" Lydia giggled. "The beast with two backs. I made the beast with two backs without some parson telling me I could, and I am glad I did. I know you don't hate me for it, and you can be as prudish as you wish otherwise. It is your mistake."

"It isn't a joke. She should be angry at you." Darcy was surprised by how sharply he spoke. "You hurt your sisters by marrying so low. It isn't only your own happiness that matters."

"What are you talking about?"

"You made it far harder for them to marry."

"No. I could introduce Lizzy to one of Tom's friends. Lizzy, I really can get you a husband, if you aren't obsessed with being so respectable."

"Mrs. Brown, gentlewomen are supposed to marry gentlemen. Substantial persons will not marry the sister-in-law of a blacksmith. Elizabeth told me a suitor of Jane's left when news of your marriage arrived."

"He clearly didn't love Jane very much. Lord, even if she is absurdly old, Jane is better off without such a person. If the rich fops don't want to marry my sisters because of Tom, such men are useless anyways."

"People had best marry within their own sphere."

"Not if you are marrying quality. They are no fun. I wouldn't marry quality no matter what."

"It isn't your right to make that choice for your sisters."

Lydia shot Darcy a shrewd look. "What, would you have married Lizzy if only she didn't have a blacksmith as a brother? Is that why you are angry?"

"No. My grandfather was an earl." As he spoke Darcy's attention was pulled by the scraping sound of Elizabeth pushing her chair further away from him. Her face was white. "My name goes back centuries. I shall marry into an entirely higher sphere, into my own sphere."

"La. You won't have much fun. You like Lizzy far more than whatever rich Miss you will marry."

Elizabeth said, "Enough. Lydia, nothing more on this topic. Nothing more. Forgive my sister, Mr. Darcy, for…for suggesting such things."

Darcy began to wish he'd not met her with Lydia. Elizabeth could not have hoped he would marry her, but him saying it in such a blunt way must feel like a slap.

Darcy shook his head. "No. Forgive me."

"Lydia, since it has been said, I know you did not think about us, about how your liaison would affect us. You should have, but…in the matter of marriage a person should follow their own counsel. It is not a matter of what your family wishes. And if a man will not marry Jane over such a cause, we are best off without him."

The table fell silent. Darcy sipped at the tea, and then Miss Lydia refilled his cup. He thought it tasted strong and flavorful. He knew there were people who were convinced it was very important to drink only the most expensive tea, but Darcy could not consistently tell the difference.

What was Elizabeth thinking? Darcy was committed to never making a fool of himself over a woman, but Bingley wasn't. His friend had told him that he wouldn't mind at all marrying a girl with no dowry. But Darcy knew he wouldn't marry a blacksmith's sister.

"Mr. Darcy," Lydia spoke again, "I really do wish to hear what you think of my family. Jane of course is excessively pretty, everyone thinks that. But what about Mama and my Aunt and Uncle."

"They do not like you."

"Hahahaha. Good. I do not like Mr. Phillips at all. And everyone knows Mama is a fool. She spent six thousand pounds in just a few years. I cannot even imagine spending so much money. Even if you eat meat every day and keep two domestics, how is it possible?"

Darcy said, "You can hardly expect an outsider to insult your family." But then the anger that had been in him since the card party where Mr. Phillips attacked Elizabeth again and again burst out. "I despise him. Mr. Phillips and Mrs. Bennet do not treat your sister as she deserves. They do not. Elizabeth, you deserve better. You should find any way to get away, even if it is not respectable. Not marrying a blacksmith but…you must not stay in that house, with that awful man and your mother who blames you for everything which goes amiss. If…if there ever is a way to leave…you must take it."

Elizabeth exclaimed, "There isn't! But I am not trapped; I tell you, and I've told you, I am not unhappy. I am not. I could never go where Jane could not follow me."

Lydia said, "You are worth at least three of Jane. I'd never suggest she marry one of my friends. She would never be able to do any work or have any fun. She is too pretty to have fun or do work."

"Jane is perfect. I shall hear no words against her."

"La! She is not."

The front door was rattled open, and the most thickly muscled man Darcy had ever seen stuck his head into the parlor. He was shirtless, and Elizabeth squeaked and hid her face, while Lydia openly ogled her husband. The blacksmith had massive arms that were as thick as many men's legs and a hairy chest. The skin was red from the heat of the forge, and he had a friendly face.

Seeing them he bowed his head. "Pardon me, sir. Pardon me, Miss Lizzy. Did not expect guests." He backed away and entered one of the backrooms, presumably to get a shirt.

Lydia grinned widely at him and when the door closed behind her husband, she exclaimed, "See! Isn't he so handsome? I told you he is brawnier than you, Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth's face was completely red again. Darcy felt a twinge of jealousy, because she'd been looking at the shirtless muscled back. Darcy had a lean figure, from fencing, horse riding, and occasional bouts of pugilism. But he'd never felt small and inadequate in this way. He was a gentleman, but that did not change that he would never be so massively built.

After a minute the blacksmith reentered the room. He wore a linen shirt and the sort of coat richer workers tended to own for funerals and special occasions, but it bulged uncomfortably around his arms. The coat had been clearly made for someone a little smaller about the chest and shoulders than its present wearer.

Elizabeth stood, though her cheeks were still red and said, "Mr. Darcy, may I introduce you to Tom Brown, Lydia's husband?"

"Of course."

Darcy slightly inclined his head and shook Mr. Brown's hand. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Brown. You have a fine house, and Miss Elizabeth is a dear friend of mine."

"No Mister. No Mister. No pretense, I'm just a blacksmith, the best blacksmith around for five miles. Tom, just call me Tom."

"I believe you are the best, I saw the work you did repairing the broken piece on Bingley's carriage, very fine work."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you. It is an honor. A great honor for you to be in our house."

Darcy smiled.

Lydia stood next to her husband and kissed his cheek. "He is nearly a lord. Did you know that? Mr. Darcy's uncle is a Lord."

Mr. Brown replied, "I did. It is a very great honor for you to be here."

"You did!" Lydia exclaimed. "Why did you never tell me?"

Darcy said, "I am glad for your hospitality."

Lydia flirted flagrantly with her husband, who was too awkward with Darcy present to reply properly. Likely he'd not been planning on conversation when he returned home for an afternoon break from the forge. Mr. Brown uncomfortably pulled at his coat, and tried to stretch without tearing the fabric.

Just a few minutes after Mr. Brown arrived, Darcy left with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's brother-in-law was definitely a blacksmith.

They walked out of the village a little way. He now was alone with her. He should try to make a case, make things right with her, apologize for…for not being willing to marry her. Beg her to come with him anyways. Explain that they could hide it from Jane. He had a perfect plan.

The sky was reddish as the sun was setting. There were clouds in the distance; it would likely rain tonight or tomorrow. There was a cold wind that cut through Darcy's heavy overcoat. Elizabeth shivered.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I must run to return to Meryton quickly."

"I shall call Netherfield's carriage for you."

"No, by no means." Elizabeth shook a finger in Darcy's face. "It would hardly look respectable to return in such a way."

They looked at each other; her smile faded.

"Forgive me, Elizabeth, forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive. Not that I can think. I thank you for being so kind to Tom and Lydia. So you do see now? She may be thoughtless, and a little selfish, but there isn't an ounce of cruelty in Lydia, and I love her still."

"I was wrong to say anything."

Elizabeth took his hand. "There is nothing to forgive. But it is my place to decide whether I am angry at Lydia, and I am not. Oh, you shall leave so soon. It is in December, I believe?"

"Near the start."

She looked depressed, her eyebrows drawn together, creating a creased line along her forehead, and her lips turned down into a frown. She squeezed his hand. "I shall miss you. I wish I could… I wish we did not need to part. You've slipped. You've become less…superficial these past weeks."

She was still holding his hand. Darcy spoke, "Elizabeth. It...it is not necessary that…" He choked with anxiety. She was so devoted to Jane and her friends. She was so innocent.

When Darcy froze, Elizabeth pulled her hand away and held it against her cheek looking towards Meryton. "I must hurry. My aunt has one of her card parties tonight, and I shall have barely time enough to dress."

She turned back to Darcy, bit her lip, and in a sudden gesture threw her arms around him and embraced him. Then Elizabeth half ran off, the back of her cape flapping in the wind. Darcy watched her leave but the brief feel of her body pressed against his stayed with him.

Blast. Would he always flinch away at the point of asking her?