A/N: Apologies - over the weekend I posted Chapter 21 as Chapter 20 overnight, which was confusing. It's fixed now. You should have Chapter 20 between Mary and Elizabeth, and 21 between Lizzy and the Colonel.

Fun Fact – this is the second time I expanded a one‑shot into a novel. The first was Seven Brandies, which had no math at all, but was quite possibly the most absurd and crazy book I ever wrote. At any rate, the start of the previous chapter was the spot where this one got bigger than SB, so if I have a problem with scope creep, it appears to be getting worse.

I know in the last chapter I suggested this was the one, but the windup ended up bigger than I planned, so this is the one before the one. I promise the one by Wednesday.

Wade


When they were gone, Elizabeth accepted a light meal from Hannah, and then retired to the parlor to read and think.

The reading consisted of rereading Jane's last letters. She was happy to see that Jane and Mr. Jameson seemed to be coming together nicely, if in fits and starts. They were both such private people that they had difficulty communicating, but Elizabeth was happy she was not in London. If she were readily available, there was a chance Jane might enlist her help, and Elizabeth was of the firm opinion that Jane needed to start managing her own life. Mr. Jameson did not seem to be going anywhere, and they had plenty of time.

The thinking part of her evening consisted of trying to sort in her mind exactly what she thought about the ever-perplexing Mr. Darcy. Her anger with the Colonel had cooled, and she felt it was time to look at things objectively.

The only thing that was new was the knowledge that the Colonel believed, most likely correctly, that Mr. Darcy had some effect on the departure of Mr. Bingley, and that he told his closest cousin about it in a vague and nonspecific way. Mr. Darcy had not divulged the name of the parties to the Colonel, so that man's gossip was at least half speculation. It was probably accurate speculation, but it was still speculation. That meant that, whatever his other faults, Mr. Darcy was not trying to sink the Bennet family's reputation.

With some effort, Elizabeth decided that to be both charitable and rational, she would need to disregard the gossip aspects of the story altogether and take the Colonel's assertion that Mr. Darcy helped in the separation as an unproven, but likely true, fact.

That left what she already knew, along with the supposition that Mr. Darcy may well have advised Mr. Bingley against an alliance. What did that mean in terms of Mr. Darcy? Mr. Bingley was a lost cause, and the Colonel she was thoroughly indifferent to after her ire cooled, but she was still trying to sketch the Derbyshire gentleman's character and wondered if this might be a stain on it or not.

To assist her thinking, and hopefully remove excess emotion, she decided to try a scenario that replaced certain characters with others. It was a useful trick she had used before with her sisters to try to filter out bias. She had to choose between using well-known people or strangers and decided on the course of using those she knew.

She sat down in a comfortable chair, closed her eyes, and sent her memory back to the Netherfield ball, which seemed to be the event all others were orbiting around. The entire relationship between all parties changed dramatically the very next day, so that seemed a good place to start.

Elizabeth tried to imagine Jane as a wealthy heiress and Mr. Bingley a nearly penniless fifth son. She then made Mrs. Bennet the mother of the penniless gentleman, and ran her mother's exact words through her mind, replacing 'Mr. Bingley' with 'Miss Bennet', and 'Jane' with 'Mr. DownOnHisLuck'.

Much as Jane had implied before, had Elizabeth, as an objective observer, been listening to the exchange she would have been absolutely appalled. Mrs. DownOnHisLuck would have gone on and on about how her son had captured the elusive Miss Bennet, and how their alliance would certainly throw her other four sons into the path of other rich heiresses. Hearing the words thus transposed, Elizabeth actually started feeling nauseous.

For the coup de grâce, she imagined Charlotte Lucas sitting at the table listening to the whole thing, while Mr. DownOnHisLuck's brother hissed repeatedly at his mother to be silent, and hearing this response quite clearly:

"What is Miss Lucas to me, pray, that I should be afraid of her? I am sure we owe her no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing she may not like to hear."

Elizabeth was certain, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that Charlotte would have dragged Jane from the ball by force and locked her in her room until the fortune hunter went away. When she looked at it from that angle, she could well see Mr. Darcy's point, especially if Mr. DownOnHisLuck was someone who kept his emotions close to the vest and could not be observed to be showing particular attention to Miss Bennet. Charlotte would at the very least suggest the couple think things through carefully, and much to her chagrin, she thought that if Jane abandoned the relationship, she would rejoice in her success.

Then she imagined Charlotte making a trip a few months later with Louisa Goulding. Would Charlotte scruple in telling her good friend about the incident, at least in general terms. She found that she could not. Louisa might have more sense than the Colonel, but could she be certain? She had heard enough gossip from all the Meryton ladies of her age to doubt the premise.

All of that thinking meant, that if she could remove her family's attachment from the equation, she could find no real fault with Mr. Darcy. Oh, she was perfectly happy to dislike Mr. Bingley until the end days, but was it Mr. Darcy's responsibility to make his friend take his leave? Was it his responsibility to explain his friend's absence? Was it his responsibility to make up for his friend's either fickle or sensible nature (depending on her mood)? Did Elizabeth even know what he suggested to Mr. Bingley? For all she knew, Mr. Darcy simply advised caution and Mr. Bingley followed his sister's advice. Or maybe he suggested taking his leave and Mr. Bingley, lacking fortitude, delegated the task to his sisters.

In the end, it was hard for Elizabeth to assign any real blame to Mr. Darcy. It was true that they had enjoyed several conversations of a more intimate nature than usual between unmarried people, but she could not see any reasonable place where either of them could have brought up the Bingleys or what happened at Netherfield. How would one even start the conversation, and more importantly, why? All of that meant that she could not even fault the gentleman for acting as if the whole thing never happened. Was that not what she did? Absent the slip of the tongue, she never would have brought up the name to the Colonel or anyone else.

All this thinking, followed by an almost verbatim recall of Jane's rage based setdown of her parents, led her to an inescapable conclusion. Based on all she knew, Mr. Darcy was probably a good man, though a bit rough around the edges. Being quite of similar temperament herself, Elizabeth did not see where she could criticize him for that. In the matter of Mr. Bingley, aside from the minor breach of propriety in failing to take his leave, Mr. Darcy was faultless. He had advised a good friend to the best of his ability, and could more be demanded of any man?

Once that was done, she worked her way back to the first assembly step by step, thinking about every meeting. As in her previous discussion with Marry, she really was not ready to find enough fault to hang him with. The man had a bad night and said some unfortunate things. She did that on a regular basis, and her father made a sport of the practice.

Once Elizabeth thought about all Mr. Darcy had actually done, while rejecting everything she assumed he had done, along with Mr. Wickham's probable lies, she really had nothing to fault Mr. Darcy with. For certain his manners were not as engaging as some, and he was nervous and unapproachable in crowds, but those did not seem to be terrible offenses by any stretch of the imagination.

All in all, Elizabeth thought she was prepared for whatever the morrow would bring with regards to Mr. Darcy. She was finally satisfied that she understood the man. He was a good and admirable man, who probably held her in some affection, which he would never act on. If he did by some wild chance act upon it, he had asserted himself that he never did anything precipitously, so she would have plenty of time to work out how to respond. Should he ask to call on her or court her, then she felt well enough about him to most likely allow it. He seemed worth knowing better, and there was some chance she could help him with some of his more awkward behaviors.

Elizabeth sat back in the sofa in satisfaction. Lightning was very unlikely to strike, but on the off chance that it did, Mary and the Colonel had left her in a good position to respond appropriately.

Elizabeth's mind was made up. She did not love the man, or even necessarily esteem him, but she liked him well enough to give him serious consideration, in the unlikely event it became necessary.

The lady's mind fully satisfied, she sighed in satisfaction at a difficult decision properly made.


Elizabeth got up to make a cup of tea from the pot Mary kept on the fireplace, only to be surprised by a ring of the doorbell. Wondering who it could possibly be, she met Hannah, the maid of all work at the front door.

Outside, they found a carter of around forty years, with a young assistant of perhaps twenty.

"Delivery for Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Elizabeth smiled, and identified herself.

The two went back to their cart and brought an enormous pasteboard box. Quite amused and curious, Elizabeth directed them to the parlor, and worked with Hannah to clear out a space in the middle for the box. Then she took some coins from her reticle for the carter's trouble, sent everyone from the room, and set out to discover what was what.

The box was so wide it had barely fit through the door, at around four feet square and two feet tall. The outside was green pasteboard with a lovely park scene stenciled on it. She wondered if that had any meaning beyond decoration, but thought she was unlikely to find out if she did not get on with it.

With anxious fingers, Elizabeth untied the twine that was holding the top on in two directions and lifted the top off. The box was constructed much like a giant hatbox, so the top came off quite easily.

Elizabeth anxiously peered inside, only to be perplexed by a second box, of red pasteboard with its own lid. It was a couple inches smaller on each side and appeared to be wedged in place with spacers near the bottom.

With even more excitement, Elizabeth opened the second box, and much to her delight, found yet a third box inside.

Elizabeth continued through the fourth and fifth boxes, only to find the final box contained a beautiful and intricately carved dollhouse.

The gable of the roof had a small handle on it, with a note attached. She opened the note with trembling hands, and it read simply, 'Lift me'.

With a delighted giggle, Elizabeth carefully lifted the handle to find that the entire roof came off as one big assembly.

She looked at the construction of the roof, which was very fine indeed. It was made of lacquered wood of very light color, and beautifully crafted.

Finally, she got down on her knees to look carefully into the house itself and gasped in surprise. The house had properly constructed interior walls like any high-quality dollhouse, but they were constructed in such a way as to form an intricate maze.

On one corner of the dollhouse she saw a tall blond doll in a beautiful dress, and in the other corner, she saw a tall, bearded gentleman in elegant evening clothes.

In the center of the maze, she found a short doll with brown hair and a dress that looked suspiciously like hers, holding a roll of paper.

With trembling fingers, she unrolled the tiny parchment, and saw the oldest mathematical equation in the world.

1 Woman + 1 Man = 1 Family

With a scream, she jumped up and danced around the room in absolute delight. She thought she might even emulate her mother, screaming, 'Two sisters married', although that seemed a bit much even for her. She was so so so so very happy and wondered when she would be able to welcome her sister, Jane Jameson.

Elizabeth danced around the room one more time, then climbed back on her knees to examine the very fine construction of the dollhouse. She would write Jane immediately but thought to spend a few minutes just admiring the construction and thinking about her sister's happiness first.