Wow. Unbelievable reviews. Really. It felt so good to check my email and, instead of having that awful spam mail about winning the international lottery and helping some Oogaboligan royal family escape from their country, I get an inbox full of wonderful reviews. Really. You don't realize how much this encourages me to keep writing. It feels so good that people can actually relate to the characters I've written. Sometimes, I feel as if Lizzy and Longbourne and Netherfield and Hertfordshire are all part of a little world. It's so nice to be able to write and escape. (I must confess, I write all over my notes for math and chemistry…so sometimes it can be hard transferring story stuff to the computer without getting trinomials and the periodic table and all that other great educational jazz mixed in : )

THE JANE AUSTEN SEASON STARTS SUNDAY NIGHT AT 8:00 on PBS! NEW ADAPTION OF PERSUASION!!! No, I am not obsessed. No, I have not been waiting for this since LAST JANUARY! No, I am not going to watch it when it comes on and record it on my VCR and cry when it is over. No way. WATCH IT!!!

I hope everyone has a great weekend!


Chapter 12

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Elizabeth did not return to Longbourne until supper, where she sat, wan and silent, in her chair at the dining table as Amelia exclaimed over her engagement. Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia, naturally, hung on to every word. They listened, enraptured, as she supplied the particulars.

"He proclaimed his love for me in the most touching manner," Amelia said, all a flush, "and went down upon his knee and asked me to do him the honor of becoming his wife."

"And what did you say?" asked Kitty breathlessly. For her trouble, she received a jab to the ribs by Lydia, who obviously thought the answer was obvious.

Amelia glanced down at her vegetables with a coy smile, her cheeks a becoming crimson. "Yes."

Mrs. Bennet was in ecstasies. "Ten thousand a year, my dear, to be sure and heir to Pemberley!" she repeated parrot-like, her hands clasped together and her eyes shining. By her expression, it appeared she had been the one proposed to.

"He cuts a very dashing figure, I'll give him that," Lydia said, inclined to be generous.

"He is frightfully handsome!" Kitty agreed.

Mary, finding herself compelled to be felicitous, said, "I hope you find happiness in the marital state.

"He is a good man," Jane said softly, her eyes upon Elizabeth. Beneath the table, she took her sister's hand and squeezed it. "A very good man."

Lizzy said nothing to either Amelia or Jane. She sat in stony silence, her eyes riveted to her untouched plate.

Amelia, not expecting any congratulations from that direction, merely nodded to each cousin in turn and inclined her head towards Mr. Bennet, expecting some form of approbation.

He sat at the head of the table, hands folded, eyes contemplative. "This is certainly a surprise, my dear," he said, at length.

"By surprise," she answered, "I suppose you mean it comes rather suddenly."

He nodded. "Indeed. I knew that Mr. Darcy held you in high regard, but I was not aware of how deeply…nor of his intentions to express it."

"Nor was I," Amelia said modestly. Elizabeth stiffened at this statement, which did not go unnoticed by her father.

"I must ask you, Amelia, have you fully considered his proposal?" he asked, watching her closely. "Are you willing to marry so young? Are you prepared to be a good and faithful wife, to devote yourself to Mr. Darcy and remain by him through hardship and challenge?"

"La, Father!" exclaimed Lydia, "as if Amelia would have to endure hardship with an income of 10,000 pounds a year!"

Mr. Bennet ignored such a remark, choosing instead to observe Amelia. He took in her ingenuous air, the manner in which she screwed up her face as though in concentration.

"I have thought long," she answered, after a few moments, "and I believe that Mr. Darcy and I were destined for one another."

"Then I hope, my dear," he said gravely, "that you should prove worthy of him." His eyes were not on Amelia as he said this but Lizzy, who sat, still and solemn, her eyes downcast and her head bowed. "He is a very good, very intelligent man. To have so earned his regard, you must work hard to keep it."

This remark sent Mrs. Bennet into exclamation marks. "Oh! As if Amelia were unworthy of Mr. Darcy! How dare you suggest it! Why, my dear Mr. Bennet, it is Mr. Darcy who is unworthy of her!"

Amelia was quick to contest, however. "I am sure that I am not deserving of the love of such a great man. My dear Aunt Fanny, as much as I appreciate your defense, I must agree with my uncle. Indeed," she said, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin, "I am very fortunate and must work very hard."

Mr. Bennet nodded, though he appeared to remain unsatisfied. Shortly after dinner was finished, he retired from the table to his library. Elizabeth, meanwhile, excused herself to her room, feigning exhaustion. It was enough of an excuse; she had been walking about the Hertfordshire countryside for a majority of the day, and Mrs. Bennet was too caught up with her niece's engagement to mind her absence in the sitting room.

She was not long alone. Upstairs came Jane, a look of such sweet, sisterly concern upon her face that Elizabeth was finally moved to tears. She wept bitterly into her sister's arms until the candle was spent and cried softly the remainder of the evening as Jane murmured reassurances and stroked her mussed and tangled curls.


Weeks passed, during which Elizabeth saw Darcy frequently but spoke to him rarely. He was always at Longbourne, paying homage to his Beloved, and Amelia kept him preoccupied to such an extent that he had only a passing smile for Lizzy.

Elizabeth herself exhausted hours taking long walks about Hertfordshire, a lone figure so altered in spirit that the locals had difficultly recognizing her. Protective measures began to be abandoned. Women no longer worried after pies left to cool on window-sills, the gentry were free to travel to London without fear of being held-up by masked highwaymen, and people felt safe to stroll about the streets of Meryton without being bombarded by mud balls. Indeed, the local police sergeant had such a surplus of leisure time upon his hands that he fell to knitting a scarf for his mother.

It seemed Elizabeth had abandoned her old ways. Instead of following her usual pursuits causing mischief and mayhem, she favored long walks. No one quite knew how far she walked, but she could be seen traversing the hills and dales and valleys and forges of Hertfordshire from sunrise until sunset, from dawn until dusk every single day.

While on these walks, she often stopped in at Haye-Park to pay call upon Lady Piedmont, who received her with great warmth. Many an afternoon was spent, in which they talked of books and geography and Sir Teddy. Their conversations ran the gamut of every conceivable subject, with one exception. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was never discussed.

Secretly, Lady Piedmont was distressed over her young friend's altered personality. Gone was the vivacious mischief-maker with the perennial twinkle in her eye that had become such a frequenter of Haye-Park. She had been replaced by a pale, emaciated girl with a detached, indifferent expression. Lady Piedmont had attempted all in her power to divert her young friend but found herself at something of a loss.

What she did find, however, was a more compliant girl. Elizabeth's willfulness and obstinacy had, for a time, been put aside, and Lady Piedmont took advantage of this lapse in general recalcitrance to inject some 'lady lessons' into their afternoon sojourns.

During tea one afternoon, for example, she subtly addressed Elizabeth on the art of delicate eating.

"Elizabeth, dear," she said, watching as Lizzy downed a tart in one bite, "you must take more measured bites. Eat slowly."

At which suggestion Elizabeth had turned her head and said, "What does it matter how fast or slowly I eat? Does it not all go to the same place?" She had, however, offered no other argument, and, as Lady Piedmont was pleased to note, made an effort to chew smaller morsels.

On another occasion, they had been reading before the fire, with Lady Piedmont positioned on a low settee and Elizabeth situated Indian-style on the carpet.

"Lizzy," Lady Piedmont had said, not raising her eyes from her book, "ladies never show their ankles."

"I am not a lady," Lizzy had answered. Five minutes later, however, she had removed to an armchair.

Such small progress was Lady Piedmont's only consolation in regard to her young protégée.

When she was left alone to her own thoughts, Lady Piedmont often wondered what was to be done about poor Lizzy. It would not do to see her so detached and pliable much longer, and Lady Piedmont was resolved something should be done to return her to her former spirits. Breaking the engagement, of course, was out of the question. Only Mr. Darcy and Amelia were capable of that feat. She could, however, force her young comrades to realize their love for one another. And there was only one conceivable method to do that…

Therefore, she resolutely dispatched a letter to Sir Arnold Piedmont, cordially inviting him and his ward Rupert Pettigrew, a most handsome, elusive, and eligible bachelor, to make Haye-Park their home for the remainder of the summer.

Desperate times, she thought, call for desperate measures.


"Disinherited!" Amelia cried, her rosebud lips forming a perfect 'o' of surprise. She was situated in the Longbourne sitting room with Mr. Darcy, who was paying his customary afternoon call upon her. "Why, my dear Fitzwilliam, whatever can you mean?"

Darcy starred grimly at the letter clenched in his hand. "Exactly that, I am afraid," he answered. "I wrote to my father requesting advice the evening before I proposed to you. A week later, I received a response prohibiting any such action." He sighed. "By then, however, it was too late. My love blinded me to practicality and discretion. Not that," he added quickly, observing her face, "I should ever have done otherwise. But I did act without my father's approval, and, when I wrote informing him of our betrothal, he responded with this letter."

"Let me see it!" she demanded with a sharp little cry. When he held the missive out towards her, she snatched it with a sudden vehemence that Darcy attributed to the shock and mortification such news would cause any delicate-natured young woman.

Darcy,

You are, henceforth, disinherited…

…she read disbelievingly.

Darcy nodded. "Read on."

She scanned the document hungrily, as though hoping for a morsel of hope.

"He demands you remove immediately from Netherfield!" she exclaimed.

Darcy drew a hand across his forehead.

"Why, how cruel it is of him!" she exclaimed, crumpling the letter in her hand. "How heartless! Why…"

"I must ask you to refrain from abusing my father in such a way," Darcy said coldly. "I cannot sanction it."

She was instantly at his feet, begging apology. "Do forgive the violence of my words," she said, "they reflect only the turbulent state of my feelings. Oh, my dear, how I hurt for you!"

He made her rise and reclaim her position upon the sofa. "I should not have spoke so harshly," he said. "After all, it is only right that you should feel anger towards my father. I must confess that I feel anger towards him. Anger and surprise and confusion. I have so many questions!"

"Indeed."

"I have never known my father to act so rashly," he said, "or to take such measures against me."

Amelia glanced at her fingers, which were knotted together in her lap. "What could he have heard of me to force him to take such drastic action? Have I not met him countless times before, during dinner parties and visits? Could he take me in such aversion?"

"Oh, Amelia, you mustn't think he has taken you into aversion!" Darcy exclaimed. "It is only a matter of your…"

"Please do not continue," she said, holding up a hand. "Nothing need be said on that score. I assure you I am acutely aware of my…circumstances."

He took her hand. "I hope you are not offended?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. I only ache for you. How shall you bear it?"

"I have you, do I not?" he asked quietly, squeezing her hand. "Together, we shall weather this storm and emerge all the better for it, I hope."

At this, she blushed becomingly and murmured praises of his forbearance.

"I am sure this is only a temporary set-back," he continued in the hopeful vein. "When I am allowed to address my father face-to-face, I shall make him see reason. He will understand, I am sure of it!"

Amelia nodded.

"And I am almost certain that he follows his letter to Netherfield. Why else should he ask me to move my belongings?"

Amelia, encouraged by her betrothed's cheery aspect, said, "Together we will make him see reason."

"Once he has become reacquainted with you, my dear, he will have no more qualms on the subject," Darcy assured her. "Then everything shall be restored. But are you sure you feel inclined to support me in my efforts? It is so much to ask…"

She was resolute, however. "Anything to restore you to your proper place, dearest," she answered quickly. "Surely supporting you in your efforts is the best thing I could do."

"This will be a true test of our love, will it not?" he asked seriously.

Her eyelashes fluttered downwards, obscuring her eyes for a fleeting instant. "Indeed… it shall.


Next: A ball is in the works…Arnold, Rupert, Mr. Darcy, and Joseph 'Joe' Lawrence arrive in town...things will get interesting!

Review of the week: )

Darcy,

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!!

From,
Your father

This made me laugh so hard, CafeAuLait! You don't know how much I wanted to include this letter in this chapter in lieu of the actual one you read above. : )