There was no way he could ask. Whatever had happened at Longbourn was, so far as good manners and propriety were concerned, none of his business. Without an invitation, he could not even call; for She at least would realise his motive for visiting and he would not have her ascribe it to mere curiosity. That afternoon and the following morning, he rode out, hoping to meet her on one of her walks. He did not and the anxiety was crushing.

As he returned for a late breakfast, he determined to confide in Bingley and get him to call; surely, whatever it was would not be hidden from him at least. As it turned out, he did not have to make the request, as he ascended the stairs to change, he saw Bingley was in the hall, a letter in his hand, his expression shocked and dismayed.

Darcy grabbed him by the arm and led him into the library, before he said anything indiscreet before the servants or, even worse, Caroline Bingley. His host went willingly, apparently stunned.

As soon as the door closed, he turned to Darcy. "It's Jane," he said. "She's releasing me from our engagement. Damn that wretched girl!"

"Who? Jane?" Darcy asked, although he had had his suspicions since yesterday.

"What? Oh no. Lydia. The stupid girl is with child. Someone unsuitable. Jane thinks I will want to get out of our marriage." Bingley sat down heavily and looked up at his friend. "How could she think that of me, Darcy? She knows I love her."

Darcy handed him a small glass of brandy and watched him down it. "There are plenty of men who would want to be released. You know that."

"But not me."

"No, not you." Bingley was, he recognised, a better man than he himself had been, just a very few months ago. "She is doubtless shocked and upset. I rather think women feel this sort of thing more than we do. She merely needs your reassurance."

"She begs me not to go and see her." Bingley waved the letter dejectedly.

"Then go and see her father. Make him understand that you have every intention of fulfilling your obligations, offer to help with the problem. I have no doubt that Miss Bennet harbours feelings quite as strong as your own, her offer to release you must be making her feel wretched."

Bingley got to his feet. "You are right, Darcy. I'll got straight away." He smiled. "You're a good friend, thank you for not trying to persuade me out of the marriage."

"I wouldn't try to persuade you away from happiness. Oh and Bingley. Don't tell Caroline. This might still all be hushed up." He had little hope of that, Mrs Bennet was not a woman to keep her family troubles to herself, but still, the fewer people who knew the better. Bingley wrung his hand and went to change. He struggled with his conscience for a moment, he could hardly intrude on the family now, but he was so desperate for sight of her that he resolved to ride with his friend as far as the gates of Longbourn. Just in case.

And for once luck was with him. As they arrived, he saw a set of familiar burgundy-coloured ribbons leaving the path and striking into the woods. He shook hands with his friend and set him off into the house and, dismounting and leading his horse, followed her through the trees.

He had to walk for some way, for she knew where she was going and he did not, but eventually, he found her in a small clearing, sitting on a fallen tree, looking utterly dejected, her bonnet on the ground beside her.

He removed his hat and approached. She rose hurriedly, drying her cheeks on the back of her hand. "Mr Darcy, I did not expect to see you here."

He had no wish to equivocate. "I know everything," he said. "I was with Bingley when he received your sister's letter. I have just left him going in to speak to your father. If Bingley has any say in the matter, the marriage will go ahead."

She sat down so suddenly her teeth clicked together audibly. "I told Jane not to worry, but still, we none of us could help it," she whispered. He handed her his handkerchief and she dried her eyes. "I have been thinking and thinking what was best to do, and nothing I can devise will do."

"What has been decided about the poor child?"

"We have to decide what to do with Lydia first."

"I am sorry, I meant Miss Lydia. She is of an age with my own sister, and I am afraid I still think of her as a child."

She looked up at him and he could not read her expression. "She will have to go away somewhere but where? We cannot burden my uncle Gardiner with the disgrace and we know of nowhere suitable, although somewhere will have to be found."

He could not sit next to her, it felt more intimate than he could aspire to, nor could he kneel, for that held other connotations, so he stood at a little distance, aching to take her in his arms. "I have a property not far from my home in Derbyshire, a couple act as caretakers but it is otherwise empty. I could ask my own nurse, who has been complaining of lack of activity in her retirement, to go there and look after Miss Lydia." He smiled wryly. "She is a kind-hearted woman but not one who is easily persuaded. Miss Lydia would be well looked after, even loved, but not indulged. Once her confinement arrives, her family could join her."

She rose to look him at him face to face. "Mr Darcy, that is most generous of you but I cannot ask you to take our troubles upon yourself."

He could not help himself. "Miss Elizabeth, do you not know? I long to take your troubles upon myself. Not because I wish to place you under any obligation to me but because your pain distresses me greatly."

She put out a hand and he took in in his. Her expression was wondering. "Still?" she said.

"Still and always, my love." He bent and kissed her hand and felt her start and shiver beneath his lips. "I swore to myself I would not importune you but I cannot stand by while you are anxious and unhappy. Let me take care of you." She looked up into his face, searching for something and it seemed to him that they stood like that for an age. Then she made a soft sound, and laid her head on his chest.

He put his arms about her, pressing her to his heart. Suddenly, the world seemed full of light and splendour, the sun on the leaves more bright, the song of the birds more jubilant. His heart was huge in his chest and he felt close to tears. She was crying softly and he held her, not caring why she had consented, knowing only that she was his and he was hers.

He had a sudden vision of her at Longbourn, racking her brains for some solution to a problem that was none of her making and not hers to solve, knowing herself to be the only person with the wit and humanity to come to a proper and generous resolution. He knew that not the least of what he could give her was power, power and choices, the ability to do what needed to be done, not just for herself but for others who were dear to her.

She was speaking and he had to hold her away from him slightly so that he could hear. "I was so afraid," she said. "I thought that you would go, just when I had come to know you better."

"I am not that easily got rid of," he said gently, longing to kiss her but wondering whether it were too early. "I will always be here, as long as God spares me." She rested her head on his chest again and he kissed her hair and rested his cheek on it. Her arms crept round his waist and he thought his heart would burst. He had to fight not to crush her to him, his tiny, valiant love.

To hell with caution. "Elizabeth?"

She raised her head. "Yes?"

"May I kiss you?"

She smiled shyly and he could not but smile back. "I think I would like that." She looked around and then marched over to the fallen tree. Lifting up her skirts daintily, she stood upon it and beckoned him over. "I fear we are going to spend a lifetime of sore necks, you are so very tall, sir."

"I shall arrange for a selection of footstools in every room," he said as he put his arms round her and bent his head. She was laughing as their lips met.

The poets were right. It was like lightning, a sudden shock that gripped his entire body. She was soft and welcoming and it felt as though his entire being were concentrated in his lips. She was shy and, he realised with a leaping heart, untutored but she held nothing back until the moment his tongue slipped between her parted lips.

"Oh!" She drew back and looked at him, a hand to her lips. "The books never mentioned tongues. Is that usual?"

He could not help it. He gave a great shout of laughter and whirled her around off her feet before setting her back on her tree trunk. "Quite usual, I assure you. Why? Did you not like it?"

She looked at his for a moment, her head on one side. "I am not sure. I think further experience is called for." They kissed for long, slow minutes until it was more than either of them could bear and they released one another.

"I must return home. My mother is distracted and if I am not there to prevent it, I fear she will go into town and share the news with my aunt Phillips and thus half the county." She shook her head angrily. "I do not understand why she cannot be brought to behave more reasonably." She laid a hand on his arm. "I regret I cannot bring you connections more to be esteemed."

"I cannot deny that there was a time, we both know there was a time, when such things mattered to me. But I have learned better, you taught me better, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. I have tried my utmost to change, to become a man more worthy of you."

"I fear you grant me more than I deserve, Mr Darcy."

He gathered her hands in his and pressed them to his heart. "No, I don't. I have not your generosity, your kindness, nor your interest in other people. But I have learned and I will continue to learn from you. As for your mother." He shrugged. "She is afraid, and that fear has made her unwise. Once you and Jane are settled, and her own future less precarious, perhaps she may have less cause for nervous 'alarms and excursions'."

"And Derbyshire is such a very long way away." That was his Elizabeth. Generous but not foolishly so.

He smiled and kissed the hands he still held, then he unhitched his horse and together they walked back to Longbourn.