Happy May Day everyone! Things are still very chaotic between school, packing and work! I'm heading toward a second Midterm in 2 weeks, and currently at T-minus 6 weeks and counting for the big move! I really appreciate everyone who reads and comments, it's a nice bright spot during a very stressful time!

Thanks to my betas, dreeem, priscillalts, noagnes, Karin E Lb, and Lily. They are very forgiving of my many errors!

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Chapter 10

All told, Lizzy spent a little more than a week as a dragon. It was not that she was unable to return to human form but that she chose to remain in her dragon form. She had driven herself to the ground in an effort to protect her sisters, but she was of no use to them if the slightest provocation forced her to change shape. It was hard to stay at home while her sisters went out, yet she trusted Mary and Jane to be sensible and to watch over Lydia and Kitty.

Lizzy used her time as a dragon wisely. She slept most of the day, and once it was dark, she left the little cottage to stretch her muscles before flight. She went to nearby leylines, soaking in the magical energy and refilling her reserves. In the excitement of everything else, she had not realized how low on magic she had become. With her stores replenished, she regained a sense of peace and well-being toward the world. She could face what challenges might come, with equilibrium. Towards dawn she would return to Longbourn. Most mornings she ate a sheep, replenishing her physical reserves as well.

It was a lonely week for her. Papa would sometimes wake her up for conversation, but it did not last long. She could speak with Charlotte if she wanted to know the happenings of the neighborhood, yet not being able to participate in the entertainments was its own trial. Mary and Jane did visit her, but not being able to speak back to them saddened her.

Of Mr. Darcy, she saw and heard nothing.

It was both a disappointment and a relief that the gentleman from Derbyshire was absent. A new conversation partner, especially one as intelligent and quick-witted as he, was extremely refreshing. Yet the time away from him also gave her a chance to examine what she felt when he was near.

She used to think herself of calm disposition, not shaken by minor disturbances. She considered herself the direct opposite of Mrs. Bennet, who could not observe the slightest change in plans without calling for her smelling salts. Of course, that was before Lizzy had met one—and now two—gentlemen which inspired such strong reactions in her.

That was not to say she had never taken an instant dislike to someone before. During her travels with her father, certain individuals had stood out to her. There was nothing she could pinpoint about them, save that her dragon had immediately bristled in their presence. There were even people whom her dragon detested in Meryton. She could never be easy in their presence and, as if sensing the predator's watchfulness within her, those same people instinctively avoided her. And yet, she had never experienced such a strong visceral reaction as she had in Meryton.

Lizzy remembered little of her meeting with the man, save for the terror and rage she had felt at that time. The man's name was lost to her and she had only a vague recollection of his features. He had been too overshadowed by her dragon's sudden emergence.

She had met with Mr. Darcy far more often and was able to make a better sketch of her reaction to him. Away from him, and sated on both meat and magic, he did not seem so fearsome. Yet she only had to think of talking directly to him to feel that same sense of alarm. Her heart would beat rapidly while her breath became short. Her stomach twisted while her feet or wings twitched with the urge to be away. It was not fear, not dread, not even excitement. It was simply alarm, a feeling of increased alertness, the need for higher vigilance.

Maybe it was something to do with how her dragon was low on magic, the way any person became more short-tempered and irritable when lacking food or sleep. The only thing she could resolve in the case of Mr. Darcy was that despite how she felt, he had been gentlemanly. He had given her no reason for her alarm therefore she would act with comportment around him.

Her first return to human form was for her Aunt Phillip's card party. Though several officers of the militia had been invited, it was a casual affair. Lizzy could attend it without much fear for Kitty and Lydia's behavior. Mary and Jane were very glad to see her once again human and helped her prepare for it. Lizzy took special care to praise Mary's looks in the hopes that a more relaxed setting might allow her to mingle with the officers and perhaps attract their attention.

Mary gave Lizzy a sad look, then hugged her.

"Please do not worry about me, Lizzy," Mary whispered in her ear. "I am well, I promise."

Lizzy could hear the despair in her sister's voice. She hugged Mary tightly and silently prayed that Mary would find someone to love her.

What surprised Lizzy about the card party was that the man she had met previously was attending as one of the officers. She did not remember much of him, but she knew he had not been in uniform then. Her reaction to him was the same as before. Her need to escape from him was only eclipsed by her need to stand between him and her family. She realized now that the panic she had felt upon her first meeting with him was not for herself, but rather the feeling that someone dangerous was too close to her family.

Unfortunately Lydia seemed rather taken with Mr. Wickham, as the man was called. Lizzy made sure to remain at the same card table as Lydia and Mr. Wickham, though she would have rather pulled her sister away from him completely. Objectively, he was a handsome man with pleasing manners, but her dragon's intense dislike of him prevented her from looking on him with any degree of favor. Her skin crawled to be near him and there was a constant, low growl in her head. It was all she could do not to bare her teeth at him.

Lydia was distracted more and more with the cards, which meant that Mr. Wickham turned his attention to Lizzy. He smiled at her; she reminded herself that she was not currently a dragon and therefore could not breathe fire on him, no matter how much she longed to.

"Miss Elizabeth, is it not?" he asked pleasantly. "We met briefly the other day, before you were taken ill. I trust that you are feeling better?"

Lizzy stiffened at being addressed, then realized she was allowing her reaction to him make her uncivil. She gave a small smile, hoping it did not appear too forced.

"Yes I am, thank you," she answered.

"I could not help but to notice that Mr. Darcy appeared to follow you. He did not importune you?"

Her usual discomfort at Mr. Darcy's mention was heightened by Mr. Wickham's presence. Her instinct was to avoid both of them, but she hated the idea of merely running away.

"He did not," she responded. Something told her it would be better to allow Mr. Wickham to guide the conversation.

He hesitated, then asked "Has he been in the county long?"

"About a month," she supplied and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "I understand he is the owner of a very large property in Derbyshire."

Mr. Wickham gave her an appraising look. "Yes, his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with anyone more capable of providing information on that topic than myself, for I have been connected with his family since I was very young."

Lizzy was startled. Was it possible that her reaction to both gentlemen had something to do with their connection?

Mr. Wickham smiled. "You seem surprised, Miss Elizabeth. Do you know Mr. Darcy well?"

There was something in the way he asked the question, a certain malice in his gaze that stirred her protective instincts, this time for Mr. Darcy. For all that he unsettled her, Mr. Darcy had always been a gentleman in her presence. She would not lightly throw him to the wolves. At the same time, she found herself wanting to know more of his past with Mr. Wickham, if only to solve her own mystery.

"Not well," she replied. "He is a proud man."

"I am sorry to say so, though I expected as much. He has ever been so, even as a young boy. His father, the late Mr. Darcy, God rest his soul, was my godfather and the truest friend I have ever had. The current Mr. Darcy and I were raised together as lads. When his father passed, the will expressed a wish that I be given a living when it should fall open. Two years ago, it did, just when I was at an age to receive it. Unfortunately, the son saw fit to give it elsewhere, despite his father's final wish."

Lizzy found the story to be improbable, for Mr. Wickham's indiscretion in relating it to her if for nothing else. However, she attempted to show sympathy in the hope of gaining further confidence.

"That must have been hard for you," she murmured, keeping her voice down to hide her doubt. Mr. Wickham leaned closer to her and her legs twitched with the urge to push his chair away. "Was there nothing you could do to dispute his actions?"

Mr. Wickham shook his head with an air of studied sorrow. "The will was worded in such a way as to make it open to interpretation. An honorable man could not have denied it, but Mr. Darcy chose to treat it as a conditional request and denied it to me on no grounds at all."

"I wonder that you do not announce it and reveal the sort of man that he is, for surely he would suffer from public disgrace." Her tone was a bit too hard, revealing her skepticism.

Mr. Wickham's eyes turned shrewd as he gazed on her.

"My love for the father is such that I could not endure bringing shame upon his name, little though the current bearer deserves such approbation," he said, then schooled his features into one of entreaty.

He tilted his head slightly, as if to ask, You do believe me, do you not?

Her instinct was to shout, No! She forced herself not to dismiss him out of hand. That some or many parts of his story were fabricated she had no doubt; the chore was to tease out what little truths remained. She could not consider her dragon's personal dislike of the man, for he had given her no real reason to disregard him like that. The strange warning instincts from her dragon had never been confirmed, which led her to doubt them.

Then he brushed his fingers along the skin of her arm.

Lizzy's reaction was a shudder down her spine and a clenching of her hand. The sudden pressure she put on the table caused it to creak and become unsteady. Thankfully the sound was too low for any but dragon ears to hear. She was deeply affronted that he dared to touch her on so slight an acquaintance. Her dragon was maddened by the need to remove his hand, from his arm, if need be. But the worst—far worse than anything else—was his magic.

His magic had nothing of the feel of Mr. Darcy's clean, crisp magic. It was slick and cloying, making her want to burn it away like the blight it was. She felt it pushing at her emotions, urging her to trust Wickham, that there was no artifice in him, that every word which came from his mouth was absolute fact. In short, he had a golden tongue: the ability to use magic to manipulate others, and clearly know well how to use it to his own advantage.

Lizzy was utterly disgusted by Wickham. She no longer used the title of Mister before his name, for in her mind he had lost all right to call himself a gentleman. To tell such an incredible story to begin with was questionable, but then to back it up by his use of magic on her was beyond the pale. With a twitch of her own power, she absorbed his. Thankfully when she took in magic that way, it was cleansed and made into pure energy without any taint of its former owner. She stood from the table.

"Come, Lydia, I fear the cards do not favor us at this table," Lizzy said coldly, staring hard at Wickham while reaching down to take her sister's arm.

"What? No, I do not want to go!" Lydia was oblivious to the tension around her.

Lizzy took Lydia under the elbows and picked her up, maneuvering her to another table with Kitty before she could protest. Lydia was so startled by Lizzy's uncharacteristic show of dragon strength that she did not give voice to her complaints, quickly becoming involved in the game again.

Lizzy remained on guard the rest of the evening, watching Wickham while staying as far from him as possible. Just because his magic did not work on her did not mean he could not use it on others. She was tempted to drain him of magic, but it was a temporary measure at best. Not only would his magic come back with time and rest, but doing so had as many legal and moral repercussions as his use of magic on her. Wickham's particular talent fell into a murky grey area in the use of magic. It could be put to good use, such as calming someone who was panicked while they were in danger. And it could be used—much as Wickham had this night—to influence others into actions they would not normally take.

Papa had taught Lizzy to always be careful with her magic, to never take so much from a person as to harm them. Though Mr. Bennet was a powerful spell mage who could easily cast his spells on unsuspecting people, there were restrictions against the use of harmful or unnaturally influencing magic on others. There was a special branch of the Bow Street Runners that dealt with rogue mages, and had ways of shutting down magic to contain criminal mages. She did not know if their methods would work on her particular brand of magic and she did not care to find out.

Lizzy did not know what to do about Wickham, save that it did not feel right to allow him to wander unchecked. She knew now that her instincts about him were correct. He was a weasel sniffing around the coop, cunning and treacherous, but also cowardly. So long as she was willing to stand up to him, he would back down. His actions were dubious at best, but he had not caused actual harm to her person or property. There was not enough to report him to the law enforcers that dealt with wayward magic. Her thoughts turned again to his wild story. Though she longed to dismiss it outright, there was one piece of information in his tale which could help her.

Who better than to expose Wickham's treachery than the maligned party?

The next day, Lizzy resolved to see Mr. Darcy as soon as may be. Even before breakfast she was outside and striding for Netherfield. She had been badly tempted throughout the night to reach out her mind to him. Propriety held her back, as well as the thought that this was a conversation best delivered to his face.

She crossed the dividing stream onto Netherfield's property at a running leap. She was in luck that within a few moments of being on the land, she encountered the very person she was in search of.

"Mr. Darcy!"

He looked up in surprise. "Miss Elizabeth," he greeted, his manner somewhat stilted. He could not have expected to encounter her this morning.

Lizzy quickly closed the distance between them. "I was hoping to find you this morning," she said.

He gave her a sharp look. "Indeed?"

"I lately made a new acquaintance," she began without preamble. "One Mr. Wickham."

The change that came over Mr. Darcy was instant. He paled with anger and his magic roiled. The air actually felt colder around him.

"Is that so?" he spat. "No doubt he spun you a pretty tale of the ills I have done him, and now you have sought me out to castigate me on his behalf. Save yourself the trouble, madam. Good day!" He spun on his heels and began to walk away.

Lizzy stared at his back in shock, which soon turned to hurt resentment that he had not bothered to even listen to her.

"Not at all, Mr. Darcy!" she snapped back at him. "I came to tell you that he is spreading lies about you!" To her humiliation tears sprang to her eyes. Now she was the one to turn back the way she had come.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and suddenly he was calling after her.

"Miss Elizabeth! Wait, please, Miss Elizabeth!"

Lizzy would have continued onward without looking back but for his sudden pained yelp. She faced him to see that in his haste to come after her, his cane had caught on the ground and his weight had come down on his bad leg. Now he swayed precariously, his balance wavering. Without thought she darted forward to slip under his arm.

He leaned on her heavily, but, just as previously at the assembly, she was strong enough to bear him up. His arm came around her shoulders in a lover's embrace. She was aware of his body pressed to hers, her own arm finding a place at his waist. He was cool and solid, his clothes soft and fine. It was a delightful contrast of hard muscle under fashionable cloth. There was something almost comforting about the contact, the living weight of another person. It was startling how well they fit together. She was surprised by how much smaller she was than him and that it did not bother her to be held so closely. He smelled like his magic: ice and earth. They were both too upset to control their respective powers. His magic washed over her like a cold plunge into a deep lake, while her own dragon magic greedily took his in. It was as pure as she remembered, nothing like the foulness of Wickham's magic.

Mr. Darcy's breath hissed through his teeth in pain, but he still forced himself to speak.

"Miss Elizabeth," he gritted out, "Please stay. I fear I have done you an injury and would like to make reparations."

She made no reply, too confused by her own reaction to his nearness, but there was no doubt in her mind that she would stay. As his weight on her lessened, he seemed almost reluctant to release her. Her heart was clamoring so loud he must have heard it, yet she could not say the sensation was unpleasant. Once he was steady on his feet again, she ducked down to return his cane to him. She was almost disappointed that he took it instead of leaning on her again.

Lizzy backed away several steps, not looking at Mr. Darcy. She had never touched… been touched, in that way by a man outside her family. She still felt the strange alarm at being near him, but she could not truly say that she had minded the way he had held her. She felt an extraordinary draw toward him, a yearning she had never experienced and could not name. Her life had never contained so much confusion before she had pulled him from the river!

Her cheeks felt warm when she dared to look at him and grew warmer still to meet his eyes. She looked away quickly, pointing to a nearby stand of trees.

"There are several fallen trees in there where we may sit and talk without being seen," she said, not adding that she had knocked down the trees several years back during one of her less spectacular landings. She had not been as experienced at flying then as she was now.

Mr. Darcy inclined his head toward her. Lizzy led the way to the gathering of trees, choosing an easy path for him to follow. She sat first so he would not feel obligated to stand in her presence. Secretly she watched him as he limped to a fallen log. Having felt his body, she felt a new appreciation of his form. She could admit to herself that he cut a very fine figure; his limp did not detract from him one bit. Others might find physical limitations to lessen his appeal, but not she. He caught her watching him. At first he looked startled, and then strangely pleased. She quickly tore her eyes away from him.

A moment of silence passed while Lizzy attempted to calm her racing heart. Really, what was with her reaction to him? Could she not conduct a civil conversation with him and not have her body thrum with awareness?

He cleared his throat and began speaking. "I believe you were telling me about your new acquaintance, Wickham." His face tightened with anger again, but he made a visible effort to set it aside. "I admit it surprises me that you are not on his side. He has a gift for drawing people to him."

"That is because he has the magical talent to make others believe him," she said tartly. "I, on the other hand, have the magical talent to be immune when others attempt to work magic on me."

His eyes widened and suddenly he grinned. "I doubt he has ever encountered your dragon magic before. I confess, I am grateful that you were not taken in by his manners."

"His manners can seem very charming," she admitted, "But if one looked closely, one would detect some artifice in them. After a very short time speaking with him, I felt I could not trust him. That was before he attempted to press his magic on me. After, I was very determined to have nothing to do with him. I would not be so impolitic as to ask for details, but he did cast you in a poor light in his story. I only wish to know if you have reason to think he cannot be trusted."

"He cannot," he said grimly. "Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain."

"Whereas your manners make you seem a proud man and distant from company," she said with great frankness. "If his habit is to make you seem disagreeable, you make his task easy for him."

He stiffened. "I have not the talent of conversing easily with people I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation or appear interested in their concerns."

"I cannot breathe fire as the wild dragons do," she responded tartly. "My fire does not have the same force or size as others I have seen. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault, because I will not take the trouble to practice. It is not that I do not believe myself as capable as wild dragons."

Mr. Darcy did not immediately respond to her, but smiled softly, watching her with an almost tender expression.

Her face flushed, certain that she had overstepped herself and said too much. He was a great man compared to her family of little means; he could not appreciate being upbraided by her.

"Please, do not be alarmed," he said upon observing her flustered reaction. "It is only that I have never heard of talking to strangers being compared to breathing fire, yet I think it must be the most apt description I have ever heard."

Her entire body grew warm with his statement and she knew not what to make of it. She sought to draw his attention back to the topic at hand.

"Concerning Mr. Wickham, is his only aim to discredit you, or does he have more vices to be wary of?"

Mr. Darcy's face darkened. Frost formed on the tree where he rested his hand. "He is very free with his funds, whether or not he has them. With his ability, he is often able to convince shopkeepers and others to extend him a line of credit which can run very dear, and which he has no means to repay."

"I shall seek to warn the merchants of Meryton to keep their wares close," she said. "I can counteract his magic when I see him using it, but I fear I cannot always be around."

"My cousin and I have discovered that a sudden, unpleasant shock, such as sharp pain or uncomfortable alarm, can also free them from his influence. That method also appears to give them some resistance to falling under his magic again."

"That is very well, but I cannot go around pinching people when I see him speaking with them."

He nodded, then looked as if he would say more but hesitated.

"If the merchants must watch over their wares, must they also beware of their daughters?"

Mr. Darcy colored, but nodded. "I did not know how to bring up such a delicate topic, but that would not be an unwise precaution."

"I thought as much." She shuddered, remembering the familiar way Wickham had touched her.

"He did not attempt—?" he asked sharply.

"No," she assured him. "He did touch my arm when he tried to use his magic on me, but I left his presence soon after. I shall not allow him near my person again, or my sisters."

"You take prodigious good care of them," he said.

"I take care of what is mine," she said fiercely. "Perhaps it is the dragon in me, but I cannot stand to allow harm to come to them. I am better able than most to protect them and I shall do so even if it requires me to be more dragon than human."

She expected her bold statement to make him look on her with disdain, but instead he seemed thoughtful.

"I think I shall return to my home now," she said. "I would like to relay Mr. Wickham's untrustworthiness to my father in the hope that he may help me in protecting Meryton."

Mr. Darcy stood with only a little lingering stiffness. "I would escort you, at least to the property line." He offered his arm to her.

Her heart gave a little lurch, yet she was not adverse to being in contact with him again. She rose and took his arm, muscles as firm under his sleeve as she had remembered.

With a little smile, he said, "I fear I cannot cross the stream to Longbourn's lands as you can, unless I freeze the stream to allow me to walk on it."

"Would not the ice be slippery?" she asked as they began walking.

"Ice is only slippery when I want it to be so," he responded. "I have never lost my balance on ice. It was quite frustrating to my cousin when we used to play on ponds that had frozen over in winter as boys. His magic is to create fire, thus he was far more likely to make a slick surface and cause himself to fall, than I who was always surefooted on the ice."

She looked up at his face, entranced with this vision of him as a boy. His grey eyes danced with amusement as he regarded her. She felt another jolt in her chest. He was quite a handsome man, she realized not for the first time. If he had not been aware of her dragon form, she thought she might have almost been in danger from him. As it was, there was no chance a man of his consequence would taint his name and home with someone under a curse.

They reached the stream where they would part.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy for your intelligence. You can be sure I will be discreet as to your being the source of my information regarding Mr. Wickham."

"I would not expect anything less," he responded. "Good day, Miss Elizabeth."

"Good bye, Mr. Darcy."

She took a running start to jump across the stream, then continued onward to Longbourn.

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Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth walk away, admiring her figure. She was all grace and fire, swift movements and confident stride. If she looked at him now, she would surely know how she was prying into his heart, and then he would be lost. She did not look, for which he was grateful. It could only raise false hope in her heart if she realized he admired her. As it was, he was determined only to think of her in his head and not his heart. He would do nothing to betray that he felt any inkling toward her at all.

Still, Darcy had to admit that when she had apparently taken ill at the sight of Wickham in Meryton, he had felt an uncommon amount of concern for her. He had been determined to follow her before she had reached out to him. After that, nothing could dissuade him from her side. It had been the first time he had seen her dragon form in broad daylight and she fairly took his breath away. She was larger than he remembered; it astonished him that a lady of such delicate proportions would become a dragon of such significance. Her colors gleamed in the sun, gaining depth and hue until he was nearly hypnotized by them.

Her wit remained the same. Every word she spoke into his head proclaimed her intelligence and curiosity. Then, when night had fallen, to see her fly again! He envied her ease of movement, the joyous freedom she found in flight. She seemed utterly ethereal when she flew, until she breathed that small gout of flame, and he was reminded that she was very much flesh and blood.

No, it had been no hardship at all to remain with her that day.

Indeed, it had been far harder for Darcy to remain away from her. Bingley called on Miss Bennet almost every day. It had strangled Darcy to not go with his friend, to not ask him to pass on his regards to Miss Elizabeth. At most, Darcy could listen for a mention of that lady, but there had been none in the week following the time he had spent with her. She was always absent when Bingley called and Darcy suspected the dower cottage was very much occupied.

He told himself it was for the best, to make a clean break of not seeing her again, to make sure that neither of their affections became further engaged than the precious friendship they now shared. After more than a week of telling himself such, he was nearly able to believe it. Of course, that was shattered when his morning walk had been disturbed by the sound of her voice.

The rush of warmth he had felt when he looked at her had told him he was in very great danger. She had approached him, apparently in a state of great excitement. Darcy's first reaction was pleasure and the hope that he was the cause of her enthusiasm. Then more rational thought intruded and he felt a weight sink in the pit of his stomach.

He could only think of two reasons for her to come out, unchaperoned, like this. Either she had detected his slight preference for her and had allowed herself to believe he felt more than he did—thus coming to rendezvous with him—or she had realized the undue attention he had paid her and therefore had come with mercenary intentions. Either way, he could not allow himself to fall to such paltry and obvious marriage schemes.

Darcy had allowed his greeting to her to be rather cool. When the first words out of her mouth had been about that miserable cur Wickham, he had lost his temper. That blackguard had already taken too much from him! Wickham's golden tongue had conned several thousand pounds from Pemberley's coffers and cost a dear sister's happiness. It was by the nearest of chances that Georgiana was still unsullied and Wickham was not his brother-in-law. More than one of Darcy's friends had been turned against him by Wickham's influence and for it to happen to the woman he admired—however so slightly and imprudently—was more than he could bear.

He should have known to trust Miss Elizabeth. Besides her dragonish immunity to magic, it was not in her behavior to either fawn over him or to fall prey to a pretty set of manners. She was both more intelligent and better read than most ladies he met. Furthermore, whether it was a result of her curse or her personality, she also lacked ambition. Not that she was not passionate in her pursuits, but she was one of the least mercenary of his acquaintance, surpassed only by Bingley.

Darcy shuddered to think he might have lost her good opinion due to his pride. If he had not stumbled, she would have easily left him behind. Thankfully her compassion in the face of his pain had been greater than her hurt and indignation. He had been able to make a semblance of an apology, which had somehow convinced her to stay. He would always be grateful to her for that. Hearing what she had to say about Wickham touched a wounded place in his soul. Darcy could never make up for the ills that Wickham had inflicted on Georgiana, but he liked to think he could repay that scoundrel a small part of what Darcy had suffered at his hands.

So it was that Darcy returned to Netherfield very much in high spirits. It was his great pleasure to meditate on the beauty of a pair of fine violet eyes. Bingley met him for breakfast. By contrast, the younger man lacked his usual good humor. He nodded coldly to Darcy and said nothing. Darcy was startled and attempted to entice some conversation out of his friend. Bingley answered tersely, until Darcy gave up. Whatever was bothering Bingley could not affect Darcy's jovial mood. Bingley would have to come out of it on his own.

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So what do you think of Lizzy's fire-breathing analogy? Was Wickham what you expected? Comments