Happy Easter, everyone!

Suggestions for the title of chapter 36 were:

"Choices" or "Finicky Finn" by Deanna27,

"survival (or vegetate) in suspense" or "helplessness" by nessy22,

"Tales from the dead" by Dizzy-Lizzy,

"In God's hand", "Elizabeth's choice", "To be or not to be... a vampire ?" by Laure Saint-Yves

I decided to go with "Things that go bump in the night", suggested by phyloxena for Chapter 28.

Chapter 37

Spring turned to summer. The bees buzzed, crops ripened, and travel in an open carriage was a delight. The Gardiners journeyed northwards on their first holiday since their honeymoon, leaving their children at Longbourn in the care of the younger Bennets. They thought the experience would do the clearly bored younger sisters good: distract Mary from her proselytising—much increased since Lydia's return—and make Lydia and Kitty think of someone other than themselves.

With the Gardiners travelled the elder Bennet sisters, Jane and Elizabeth. The ostensible reason for taking Elizabeth on their journey was to complete her recovery. Mr Gardiner declared he wished to put the roses back in her cheeks. Mrs Gardiner thought there could not be a better place for it than the wilds of her native Derbyshire. Their itinerary was to be open-ended. Mrs Gardiner hoped to visit the village of Lambton where many of her childhood friends still lived. She had even talked of going as far as The Lakes. But Mr Gardiner and his wife were playing a very deep game*.

Of course, Elizabeth would not travel without her dear Jane who had been tireless in nursing her sister back to health. So the tourists* set off, taking the journey in easy stages. Elizabeth did not think the slow pace necessary. She felt in much better health than during the journey back from Kent but she did not complain.

After an uncomfortable fortnight at Rosings following Mr Gardiner's return there—a fortnight made awkward for the visitors by the conflict that had preoccupied their hosts—Dr Grantley had declared Elizabeth sufficiently recovered to travel back to London. In truth, the good doctor was keen to return to his own domicile. He was not enjoying the atmosphere at Rosings either. The Earl of Matlock had arrived, a man who reminded Mr Gardiner forcibly of Henry the Eighth. Not that they got to see much of him, but they were continually reminded of his presence by the reverberations of his raised voice in the woodwork, a bass that seemed to shake their very bones. Charlotte had given them an inkling of what was going forward before she and her husband had been banished by Lady Catherine to the parsonage at Failford a week after the upset—Miss de Bourgh had fallen in love with her cousin who happened to be the earl's second son, none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mariah had been sufficiently recovered by the time of Charlotte's departure to return to Meryton with her father. There was certainly no room for them in Failford's tiny parsonage.

During their final week at Rosings, the Gardiners and their nieces had felt almost under siege in The Green Room. Since the earl's arrival, they had ceased to be invited to the dining room—a snub Mr Gardiner could only be thankful for. Their meals arrived on trays and they ate on a Pembroke table in Elizabeth's room. After Elizabeth's fever broke, both the ladies slept in the Green Room, taking turns to tend her coughing fits during the night. Mr Darcy occasionally poked his nose in and apologised for everything—the sudden change in the weather, the cold collations*, Miss de Bourgh's absence and his own preoccupation with the rebuilding of the parsonage—everything, in short, but the actual conflict. During these visits, Mr Gardiner invariably saw Mr Darcy's eyes flick to Elizabeth, whether she was in the bed, or sitting by the window stroking her kitten, or eating at the table with them. His niece seemed not to notice Mr Darcy, her thoughts always turned inward in his presence. Knowing of Mr Darcy's failed proposal, the situation had vexed Mr Gardiner. He hoped for a resolution between them that never came. If Elizabeth had not been so ill, Mr Gardiner would have been tempted to have words with her. Finally Dr Grantley had given them his blessing to leave Rosings.

After an unplanned stay of another week in London following a slight setback with Elizabeth's health, they had travelled onto Hertfordshire, where it was hoped that she would benefit from the country air. They found Mr Bennet very glad to see his favourite daughter but still not on speaking terms with his youngest. Mr Gardiner hoped that Elizabeth's influence would help to heal the breach. He had enlisted her aid soon after assessing the lack of progress in family relations at Longbourn. Mr Bennet had been taking his meals alone in the study. In the end, Elizabeth's presence was enough. Mr Bennet returned to the table for his visitors and stayed there for his elder daughters after the Gardiners returned to London.

It was then, on their first night back in residence at Cheapside, that Mr Gardiner finally divulged Mr Darcy's proposal to Elizabeth to his wife. Mrs Gardiner had been simultaneously astonished and gratified—a member of the Ton interested in her niece! She was convinced Elizabeth would make Mr Darcy a wonderful wife. He was terribly handsome, though a little pale. All he needed was a little 'lightening up' and Elizabeth—once she was restored to her former gaiety and wit—was just the lady to do it! It did not take Mrs Gardiner long to think of the Derbyshire scheme.

Mr Gardiner had been relieved to find upon returning to his business that the young man who he had taken under his wing not a year ago had proved remarkably adept at keeping the fort with minimal supervision, even finding new customers. Fortunately there had been a gap in the arrivals of his ships. When Mrs Gardiner suggested they journey north, Mr Gardiner immediately saw the wisdom of it. Better connections opened doors and could potentially advance his business in ways that his years of hard work could not. After the arrival of his next ship there would likely be another gap which he might take advantage of.

Elizabeth had been writing to her aunt of the progress with her health every week. There had been some fear raised by the Bennet's own physician that Elizabeth might be developing a consumptive habit*. The offer was made, cast chiefly for the Gardiners' own benefit as a type of second honeymoon. It was not hard to win over Elizabeth with talk of the Peak District—its rugged beauty and its caves. Elizabeth accepted with the proviso that Jane came too. The only rub* had been the Gardiner's aged nanny, who had been Mrs Gardiner's nanny as a child. Poor Nanny Ingleside had been severely fatigued by her sole guardianship of the children during the Gardiner's absence in Kent and hinted darkly that she feared a second stint might exacerbate her dropsy*. The scheme to leave the children at Longbourn was hatched and nanny was told she could put her feet up in Gracechurch St and knit instead. In a matter of weeks it was settled and plans were made.

Thus the tourists had arrived by easy stages at Lambton. Mrs Gardiner's talk of going as far as The Lakes had been merely to ensure Elizabeth got no wind of the Gardiners' true intentions. Their knowledge of Mr Darcy's proposal had not been mentioned. They had merely gone so far as to establish that Elizabeth was not averse to her erstwhile suitor. In her letters, she had deemed him a kind man who had gone beyond the call of duty in helping Lydia but said nothing more.

The first few days in Lambton were spent innocently enough, visiting friends and making new acquaintances. Lizzy and Jane both declared themselves charmed by the little village. Lizzy was enchanted by the antiquity of the old inn where there were staying. Tuesday came, bright and sunny, and Mr and Mrs Gardiner deemed it a lovely day for a drive. A beautiful open barouche had been hired for the day and the ladies stepped into it in their best bonnets. It was only after they set out, as they were crossing the river Wye on a magnificent 14th-century stone-arched bridge, that Mrs Gardiner slyly announced they were to take advantage of a public day at a local estate.

"I don't know if I ever mentioned how close Lambton is to Mr Darcy's estate, Elizabeth, but I thought you might like to see it. Especially after meeting him in Kent. I know I would. In all the years I lived here, I never once attended a public day. Just when I got old enough to be interested, old Mr Darcy stopped holding them for several years after his wife's death."

"You are not talking of Pemberley?" asked Elizabeth in consternation.

"Yes. Did I not mention it is only five miles from Lambton?" asked Mrs Gardiner, "—though it is not an easy walk, being uphill most of the way."

"I am not sure that I am up to much walking today," suggested Lizzy. "Perhaps we could go instead for a drive? The countryside around here is very beautiful."

"Oh! I would like to see Pemberley also!" enthused Jane. "Mr Bingley said such delightful things of it! And Caroline too!"

"I am a little worried about the weather," continued Lizzy doggedly. "Mrs Carruthers thought it would rain today. Her rheumatism was bothering her."

"It is a perfectly fine day!" laughed Mr Gardiner. "And since when did a little rain bother you, Lizzy? We can always put the top up!"

"Please, Lizzy?" begged Jane.

Lizzy knew better than to persist against such determined opposition. She settled back into her seat and tried to enjoy the passing countryside, all the while feeling that, having rejected Mr Darcy's suit, she had no right to be visiting Pemberley at all. She could only hope that he was not in residence, as many families were not on public days.

When they turned in at the gatehouse, the ribbons tied to the hat of the gatekeeper left them in no doubt that they had arrived at the right place and the public day was going forward as expected, whatever Mrs Carruthers thought of the weather. The gatekeeper bid them good day, tipped his hat at the coachman whom he obviously knew, and advised them to put the top up if they were fearful of heights, for the road down to the manor house was a steep one. Once the occupants of the barouche all agreed they would rather enjoy the view, the coachman flicked his reins and set off at a cautious pace, his hand resting on the brake as they reached the crest of the hill.

"Oh!" cried Mrs Gardiner and Jane as the valley opened up before them and the manor house came into view—a graceful and magnificent building in the neoclassical style, reflected in the calm waters of a decorative lake.

"It is a palace," breathed Jane.

"Is it not beautiful?" smiled Mrs Gardiner, catching Lizzy's eye.

Lizzy could only agree with a nod. A lump had formed in her throat. She was overcome with the sight of Pemberley. It quite put Longbourn, and indeed Netherfield, in the shade. But there seemed to be something humiliating about having to endure visiting this place, of which she might have been mistress, as a tourist.

Of course she had known Mr Darcy was rich and of an ancient family but she had been quite determined that such material considerations would not sway her when she thought him rude and disreputable in Hertfordshire. It was somewhat ironic that she had only begun to truly understand Mr Darcy after rejecting his suit. But now that she knew that he was a far better 'man' than she had ever given him credit for, she was still unsure if she could ever contemplate marrying a vampire.

They arrived in the carriage sweep and descended in front of the house from whence their coachman was directed to park on a grassed area with many other vehicles. A footman gave them a ticket to enter the house on the next tour, which did not begin for almost an hour. He suggested they walk freely in the gardens in the meantime, handing them a map and pointing out several features of interest including a folly.

"Is this the River Wye?" asked Mr Gardiner, pointing to the map.

"The Derwent, sir," replied the footman.

"Well, there you are ladies!" jested Mr Gardiner. "Mr Darcy has an excellent river running through his estate. Has he ever spoken to you of fishing?"

Jane and Lizzy shook their heads.

"Now, now, Edward," returned Mrs Gardiner, playing along. "Is it a topic a gentleman would typically broach to gain a lady's attention?"

"Do the ladies know Mr Darcy?" asked the footman politely.

"Yes," replied Mr Gardiner jovially. "They met him in Hertfordshire, when he was staying with Mr Bingley at Netherfield. It is only a matter of miles from their father's estate. Is that not so, Jane?"

"Three miles," agreed Jane.

"Is Mr Darcy in residence?" asked Mr Gardiner casually.

"Yes, sir. Though I do not know where he is at the moment, sir. He generally keeps out of the way on public days. If you give me your name I can pass it on to the housekeeper," said the footman, withdrawing a pencil from his waistcoat.

"Ah! Best write, Bennet," said Mr Gardiner, "Jane and Elizabeth."

"I'll see if I can have the information passed on to Mr Darcy, sir," said the footman, scrawling the names on the back of the pile of maps.

"Thank you!" said Mr Gardiner. "I'm sure the ladies would be very happy to see him again. He rescued Elizabeth from a fire!"

The footman looked astonished. Elizabeth was embarrassed. On hearing that Mr Darcy was indeed in residence, she had hoped to pass the day without his notice. Now she felt her uncle was forcing a familiarity she had lost all claim to.

Mrs Gardiner squeezed her husband's arm, feeling that he had perhaps gone too far. With a polite 'good day to you' to the footman, she led him off in the direction of the garden. Elizabeth looked suspiciously after her aunt and uncle.

The party walked in the direction of the river but soon diverted to some garden beds, when Mrs Gardiner pointed out that the round trip to the river might be too much for Elizabeth to execute in less than an hour. Mrs Gardiner had not failed to notice that her niece looked unhappy and attributed it to exertion. As the sun disappeared behind a cloud they found a gardener who was more than happy to enlighten Mr Gardiner on the name of a plant he did not recognise. While the gardener went on to explain a little of the garden's design, Elizabeth wandered off, convinced of a conspiracy and in no mood for company.

Mrs Gardiner occasionally glanced anxiously in Elizabeth's direction while Jane and Mr Gardiner listened to the groundsman attentively. Her niece was only a matter of two hundred yards away, heading for a statue at the end of an avenue when the wind whipped up, making Mrs Gardiner clutch her bonnet.

"Ach! Look at that!" said the gardener, eyeing the sky balefully. "My wife thought there would be a storm this afternoon! You'd best be getting back to the house! Some of these Derbyshire storms can be wild ones!"

At that very moment several gusts hit them in quick succession, making Mrs Gardiner stumble. A door on a nearby garden shed slammed shut with a loud bang and the man ran quickly to secure it. Some potted plants toppled over in a wheelbarrow.

"Elizabeth!" yelled Mrs Gardiner, clutching her skirts.

Elizabeth meanwhile was taking stock of her surroundings. Having reached the statue, she saw the massive stone folly not far away, built like a Temple of Apollo. Mr Darcy seemed to like doing things on a grand scale. On hearing her aunt's cry, she pointed in its direction, for she could see the only shelter near her relatives was the tiny garden shed.

"Here!" she yelled to summon them, but her voice was swept away with the wind.

The rain began to fall in fat droplets. Picking up her skirts, Lizzy motioned for her relatives to follow her and ran off. She arrived at the folly only slightly damp, just as the rain began to come down in earnest. In her unfit condition, it had not taken her long to be completely puffed. Pausing at the top of the steps to catch her breath, she was dismayed to see on turning around no sign of her relatives. She could only conclude they had taken shelter in the tiny shed with the groundsman.

At first Lizzy congratulated herself on finding better shelter than her relatives but she soon saw her mistake as the storm grew in vehemence—the rain slanted in and the high portico afforded her little protection. She drew herself as close as she could against the inner wall but it was no good—her boots and the hem of her gown were soon soaked and she could see that due to the wicking of the fabric, her gown was becoming wetter by the moment. She looked about the portico for some better shelter; considered climbing into one of the niches beside the goddess or nymph that resided there. But as Lizzy viewed the direction of the rain beating down on her, she thought it would be slanting less inwards further round the structure. She moved round the portico towards the river, seeking respite. That was when she saw the door that led to the interior of the folly. She tried it. It was not fast and Elizabeth slipped thankfully inside.

The interior was cold and dim but not completely dark—the room lit by some small high windows. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Elizabeth looked about her. It was only when she saw the caskets topped with leaden images of praying knights that she realised that the folly was in fact a tomb. Elizabeth supposed the caskets had been moved there from some older site—a church or chapel long gone. She walked towards the knights to better appreciate their long, bearded faces clad in chainmail. The effigies on the caskets were very fine mediaeval ones, attesting to the nobility of the Darcy heritage. She supposed they must be from the time of the crusades; there was certainly something oriental about how their features were rendered.

Lizzy took off her right glove and was just stretching out her hand to touch the cheek of the nearest knight when she heard a sound behind her. Turning, her heart stopped with a thump, for before her was Mr Darcy.

A stab of pure terror gripped her momentarily. She was alone in a tomb with a vampire. Her hand flew instinctively to her throat and she took a step backwards.

"Forgive me," said Darcy softly. "I did not mean to startle you. I thought at first I was dreaming."

"Please forgive my trespass," said Elizabeth nervously, backing away and trying to determine the expression in his hooded eyes; whether there was any of the wild gleam she had seen in them before he had attacked her at Hunsford. In the gloom it was impossible to tell. "You must wonder what I am doing here. I was touring the estate with my relatives when the storm broke and sought shelter," said Elizabeth, gesturing to the outside to disguise another step taken backwards.

Darcy took a step closer. "You seem to have got separated from them."

"I am very sorry to disturb you," Elizabeth continued hurriedly. "We must have run in opposite directions. I believe they have taken shelter in a gardener's shed. I think the rain is easing. I will join them directly. Good day."

And without further ado, she dived for the door.

Darcy was quicker. Elizabeth's right hand had barely grasped the handle when he caught her gloved left hand.

"You cannot go out there. It is pouring. You will catch your death. Please stay. Let me apologise profusely for what happened at Hunsford. I promise nothing like it will ever happen again. You are safe from me. I had written a letter to apologise but had no chance to deliver it before the Parsonage caught fire. The few times when I was alone with you afterwards, you were too ill to converse. I considered giving my letter to your sister to deliver to you once you had recovered sufficiently. But after what happened with Lydia, the terrible way my relatives ignored you once Anne and Richard were discovered... Have you fully recovered?"

Elizabeth relaxed. She could see his eyes now and knew him to be sincere. "Thank you. Yes, I have recovered—not completely, but I get a little stronger every day. I heard the full story of how you saved me and Mariah; Charlotte told me. I thank you with all my heart. As to Lydia, we were only glad to have her returned to us unharmed. She told us herself she had gone willingly with Lieutenant Wickham. We were all fooled by his charm. Did your valet survive?"

Darcy had the grace to blush. He longed to tell the truth but it seemed a gulf now separated them again. "Yes. It was bad, but he survived and has made a complete recovery. It sounds like you have lost much of your memory of events."

"It is all a muddle in my head," confided Elizabeth. "I remember waking at the parsonage with the room filled with smoke, then waking again at Rosings. But the time when I had the fever is largely lost to me. I had weird dreams..." She blushed.

Darcy dearly wanted to ask her what type of dreams; whether he had inhabited any of them, but it seemed impertinent.

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. "I beg your pardon for intruding. It was never my intention to trespass on your domain. My aunt and uncle had talked of going as far as The Lakes—the Gardiners, you remember them?—but my uncle's business curtailed the time available and they chose to come to Derbyshire instead. My aunt grew up in Lambton. She was very eager to show us Pemberley when she discovered there was to be a public day," Elizabeth said, repeating what she now realised was likely an elaborate fiction after her uncle's transparent conversation with the footman. How much did her aunt and uncle know? Had she talked in her delirium during her illness? "I am very sorry."

"Do not be," said Darcy, thinking it would be too forward to say he was very glad to see her again. "I have only been back here a matter of weeks. I did not visit last year. I stayed in London for the summer for the first time in my life after my return from the Continent.

"For a while I was unsure if I would ever visit Pemberley again. The servants here knew me very well, you see, particularly my housekeeper, from before I was changed. Mrs Reynolds used to even scold me when I came home from university during the summer for sleeping in—I got used to town ways. What was she going to say about me sleeping all morning and not wanting to go out during the day? But Netherfield helped. If the Bingleys could believe that I suffered terrible migraines because of the light, I could not see why the same ruse would not work here. I've always loved Derbyshire—the wildness of it. It was good to see some other places—London, Cambridge and Vienna; they have their charms. But my heart will always be here. I decided that if I must be a monster, I would return to the wilds of Derbyshire and be a monster here."

Elizabeth bit her lip, realising he must have registered her fear upon encountering him. It seemed a poor way to treat him after he had rescued her—a reversion to her earlier thoughts about him.

"You were lucky to find me here today, though," continued Darcy, attempting to drag himself from the maudlin tendency of his thoughts. "Georgie went to my aunt at Matlock, to stay overnight. I was tempted to go with her. Only my housekeeper's reproving looks kept me here. My parents were always very actively involved in public days. I am dreading having to take tea with some of the visitors this afternoon."

Having made their explanations, they stared at each other for a moment, unsure what to say next.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Darcy finally ventured.

"Tea?" asked Elizabeth in bewilderment, looking about.

Darcy chuckled. "I suppose it is a bit gothic out here with the old caskets. Come into the next room. I have a coal stove there. At the very least it is warmer."

She followed him through a door into a crypt of more modern design with vaults let into the wall, some empty and others capped by sandstone memorials. Once she had stepped fully inside, Lizzy could see that two of the occupied crypts had fresh vases of flowers in front of them. She peered into the yawning mouths of the empty ones as she passed them, wondering if she would see a pillow or perhaps a blanket. An armchair and some other evidence of habitation stood in a corner near a stained glass window with religious and heraldic motifs. It was partly covered with a makeshift curtain.

"Do you live here?" asked Lizzy as politely as she could.

"Live here?" repeated Darcy with some incredulity and then, remembering all the fables that surrounded the habits of vampires, realised her mistake.

"I live in the main house, and I sleep in a bed not in a mausoleum. I came to visit my mother and father privately while the circus went on."

"The circus?"

"The public day," he explained sheepishly. "Please take a seat," he said, indicating the armchair. He shifted some books from a small table that Lizzy belatedly realised was a milking stool and folded his long legs to sit down upon it. He looked slightly ridiculous sitting with his knees much higher than his hips and Lizzy wished she'd had the foresight to suggest they swap places before ensconcing herself in the huge chair while he sat, looking uncomfortable, at her feet.

"Excuse the crude furnishings," Darcy continued. Reaching out, he fetched a teapot—a very elegant teapot for a crypt—then poured some water into it from a kettle. "I have carried a few things down here over the years to make it a little more comfortable, but it is not set up for entertaining."

"I thought you were dreading having to take tea?" suggested Elizabeth impishly.

"It depends on the company," Darcy smiled. "There is no milk, I am afraid."

"Thank you, I can take it without."

He poured and passed a cup and saucer to her, a pretty old-fashioned toile pattern with a gold edge. When she took it, he poured another for himself into a cup with a broken handle.

"This is a pretty pattern," Elizabeth observed, turning the saucer over. "My God! It is Sèvres!" she exclaimed and then blushed, for she recalled disdaining her cousin Mr Collins looking at the hallmarks on the china at Longbourn during his visit.

Darcy laughed. "It was a favourite of mine when I was small. I rescued it when Mrs Reynolds tried to throw it out."

"Throw it out?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Whatever for?

In answer, Darcy only turned the broken handle of his cup towards her and pretended to toast her.

"Oh!" said Elizabeth. "Not a full set anymore?"

"I'm afraid not," said Darcy. "It was my grandmother's. So how long are you in Derbyshire?" he asked, a flicker of hope beginning to burn in his breast.

"Not too many more days," said Elizabeth, and she immediately saw his face fall. "We have already visited The Peaks. Lambton was our last stop. My uncle is expecting a ship in. When it returns, they will message him. His men know enough to get the ship quickly unloaded and the goods stowed, but the distribution is complicated and my uncle supervises that himself."

"That is a shame. I have invited the Bingleys and was hoping to introduce you to my sister."

"The Bingleys?" said Elizabeth.

Darcy could not help but detect that the information was not pleasing to her. "You remember the Bingleys?"

"Yes, of course," said Elizabeth, wondering if she should say more. "It is just that Jane is travelling with me and I am worried if she could cope with seeing Mr Bingley again. After he left Netherfield so abruptly, she was quite heartbroken."

Darcy remembered hearing Jane's sigh when he had shifted her in the Green Room. Seeing his chances of Elizabeth accepting his invitation slipping away, he decided to make a full confession. "I can tell you that Mr Bingley returned her feelings. Perhaps it is fate they have met again."

"You do not understand," said Elizabeth. "His sisters do not approve of the match. Jane tried to visit them in London and they repulsed her."

"I do not know anything of what occurred in London," said Darcy, "but Bingley is his own man. I know he has been pining for your sister since he left Hertfordshire. He was under the impression that your sister was being courted by another gentleman. Did that come to nothing?"

"That is an utter falsehood! Who told you that?"

Darcy pursed his lips. "Perhaps I should say no more, but Bingley still mentions Jane. He has not forgotten her."

Elizabeth fumed silently for a moment before gulping her tea.

"Perhaps, I am also a little at fault," admitted Darcy. "I did not wish any heartbreak upon your sister but there was a time when I hoped Bingley might marry my sister Georgiana."

"People should marry for love, not for their family's notion of a good match," returned Elizabeth hotly.

"I beg your pardon, but though the Bingley sisters would have thought it a good match, my aunt and uncle did not think so. Perhaps I erred in dropping some hints to Caroline; I was driven by expediency not ambition."

He paused for a moment, biting his lip, then looked up. "I know I can rely on you never to repeat this to anyone, but what George Wickham did to your sister, he also did to mine. If Georgie was with child, I needed to find her a husband quickly, and one who would treat the child as his own. I would not have disdained Bingley as a brother-in-law. In the end it proved unnecessary and I hoped Bingley would follow his heart. I was surprised he did not return to Netherfield. Perhaps he feels awkward about the amount of time that has elapsed since the Netherfield ball."

Lizzy was very angry on behalf of her sister's heart but the news of Lieutenant Wickham's additional perfidy quite took the wind out of her sails. "I am glad things worked out for your sister," she said more softly. "If you think Mr Bingley can be trusted to not break my sister's heart again, I would be very glad to see him if he should arrive before we leave."

There was an uncomfortable silence during which Darcy hoped Elizabeth might say something more—of Lydia. There had been an intonation in the 'I am glad things worked out for your sister' that suggested that Lydia had not been so lucky. He was a little hurt that Elizabeth had chosen not to confide in him, particularly after he had let her into his inner circle by speaking of his own sister's shame. But what could he expect? He was a vampire. She had rejected him. He regretted letting down his guard.

Elizabeth sensed Darcy's discomfort, wondered what she had done to upset him and tried to make amends. "Pemberley is very beautiful," she observed.

Darcy was affronted. She had gone back to speaking to him like a stranger, a tourist. "What were you expecting?" he said, jumping up and folding his arms. "A castle with bats?"

Elizabeth set down her cup and stood up also. "I am sorry," she said, touching his arm lightly. "It was meant as a compliment. Please know that you have always interested me, from the time I discovered your interest in chemistry. I had some mistaken impressions of you and you took me by surprise with your declaration. Please know that it was never my intention to marry; so you were starting from a difficult position regardless of anything else. I had plenty of time to think about you when I was recuperating. It is rather ironic, but the thing that really came out in your favour was what Lieutenant Wickham said of you."

"Lieutenant Wickham?" repeated Darcy, confused. When had Wickham ever said anything good about him?

"He used to speak quite a lot about you," continued Elizabeth, "whenever he visited Longbourn. He was quite obsessed with you. At the time I wondered how much of it was true because there were inconsistencies... and Miss King. Then, after Lydia, I had to revise my whole opinion. He was much blacker than I had supposed, and you had shown your gallantry in rescuing both me and Lydia. In short, I spent my time unravelling his stories, like a tangled ball of wool. You are someone I admire immensely."

Her eyes were shining up at him and Darcy felt his heart swell. "Are you saying you could contemplate marrying me after all?"

Elizabeth took a step away and let her hand fall. "Ah! Well... as to that... I am not sure how you manage your condition but I can see that you try to exercise restraint. I realised you were initially trying to keep away from me for my own good. Perhaps my proximity at Rosings... Do you really think it is a good idea?"

Having had similar misgivings, Darcy understood her hesitation completely. His need for her—more than just her blood, her companionship—warred again with his better sense of judgement.

"Would you be willing to put it to the test?" he asked at last.

"What do you mean?"

"I would like to invite you and your relatives to stay with me here at Pemberley for the duration of your stay in Derbyshire. Would you be willing to give me a chance to court you properly?"

Elizabeth hesitated "I don't know. Did you tell my uncle of your proposal? I'm very suspicious of their reasons for coming here."

"I'm afraid I did," replied Darcy. "Only as a way of explaining my interference with Lydia's retrieval."

"But don't you see? It's not fair. My aunt and uncle will likely put a lot of pressure on me to accept. I can hardly tell them of my real reasons for hesitating."

"Please, Elizabeth, I can be discreet. I will merely treat you as a friend when in company. Besides, once Bingley turns up, all eyes will likely be on him and Jane. He is very demonstrative."

Elizabeth laughed. If nothing else, she felt she owed it to Jane to give her relationship with Bingley another chance.

"Very well," she said.

Footnotes

tourists*—1772, "one who makes a journey for pleasure, stopping here and there" (originally especially a travel-writer), from tour (n.)

A deep game*—a reference to cards where someone's true intentions are not obvious.

cold collations*—a light informal meal, similar to a ploughman's lunch or platter

A consumptive habit—tuberculosis

Rub—problem

Dropsy—an archaic term for oedema