Author's Notes: Hi Again! Happy Spring, Happy Easter and Passover and all of the things!

Thank you for the tremendous out pouring of support after writing such an intense chapter. I am so glad that it was so well received, and that the reunion between the sisters felt as real and poignant to you as I had hoped to portray. You guys really continue to blow me away with your support.

I loved reading all your speculation about what Mr. Collins motives might have been in attacking his heir, as well as your curiosity AND constructive criticism over the slippers. I think it was fair to wonder why they would be important, as they could be considered more tangential evidence than anything else. This may be an area I dive into when I eventually revise the story, but for now it's a plot device thats working for me, and I'm going to roll with it. Hopefully I'll be able to write it in away that makes it make sense. I really appreciate your feedback, as much as all authors want their stories to be beloved, constructive criticism is what fuels us to better writing.

TW: there is a brief conversation regarding fertility issues in this chapter. It begins in the italicized dialogue text in the second half of the chapter. You can skip over this line of dialogue and still understand the rest of the scene.

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In the small hours of the morning, Netherfield lay still and silent, save for the vibrant crack of que smacking target that rang out from the frequently visited Billiard Room. Of all the richly furnished, garishly dressed rooms of Netherfield's drafty halls, the Billiard Room was the one which the current master of the house enjoyed the most. Bingley, an energetic young man, typically enjoyed physical pursuits the most, but as far as indoor occupation went…he had something of an instinct for the billiard table. Newly trying his hand at country living, Bingley was also well pleased he was in possession of such a fine gaming room in his estate to entertain the unexpected influx of guests he currently found himself hosting. Reverend Collins was of course too ill to be considered, and his brother Hurst had long since retired for the evening, but all the other gentleman residing in Netherfield were gathered around the slate.

The tension in the room was palpable. Colonel Fitzwilliam, son of an Earl and a leader in his own right, had bristled to be dismissed from the sick room when Miss Bernard had fainted during the recitation of her story. Mere moments after the door had closed behind the Colonel, his host, and the Constable, the military man had turned to his companions and darkly muttered, "I have witnessed Adelaide Bernard faint from my seat in the Matlock at the same time every evening, for days, then weeks in a row." Raised with the best manners, the Colonel had been able to school his displeasure when the trio rejoined Miss Bingley and her sister in the Drawing room but had spent many hours since quitting their company brooding on the matter in Netherfield's gentlemanly retreat.

Since he could not be present for the interview, the Colonel had insisted on waiting up for a firsthand account of the telling directly from his cousin and his Bow Street runner. Darcy and Gantry had promised they would rejoin the other men when the interview was completed. The Colonel was determined that he would be satisfied that very evening, in spite of his own exhaustion from a muddy day of riding and the heavy meal that rested in his gut. Being the consummate host, Bingley was determined to wait with his guest, and attempted to pull the Colonel from his ill humor as best he could. In circumstances such as these, a high-quality billiard table became a host's most prized possession. In truth, throwing himself into the game and urging to the Colonel to do the same by pestering the older man with cheerful taunts, was as much for Bingley's distraction as the Colonel's. He was prodigiously proud of himself for leasing a house with such a useful entertainment.

Bingley had been frustrated to be dismissed as well. He was more interested in hearing Elizabeth's story for its own intrigue than he cared to admit to…but it was all so fantastical that it was difficult not to be intrigued. A gentleman's daughter turned a runaway, claiming she needed to live in hiding for protection! A child who became a model and a muse, and then the toast of the Town, a well-known figure in the gossip rags and scandal sheets! His own friend, Darcy, the epitome of everything proper, serious, and steady – wildly in love with her! When Charles allowed himself to think of the little pieces of the story he had so far, it read like the drivel of one of Caroline's novels. However, the fascination that Elizabeth's story held for Bingley was nothing compared to the deep, aching longing with which he wished to know her sister's.

Only two days had passed since Charles had held Jane Bennet in that very room, two days since she had silently slipped in the door and answered the anguished question he had asked of the dying fire. Two days since her honey blond braid had caressed her neck and the length of her back as they had joined together on the very sofa that now acted as storage for Constable Gantry's writing desk. Bingley's eyes drifted to the wiry Londoner, who was currently sitting at that very desk, leaning against it with his left forearm, bent down almost dangerously close to the paper, while his right flew across it, writing notes in swift and violent strokes of his pen.

He shook his sandy head slightly from his spot by the table and reached for his glass of brandy. Now was not the time to think of all that he and his guest, Mrs. Jane Collins, had shared in this room together. Though many events had occurred since then, significant ones, exciting ones, Charles's thoughts remained consumed with Jane. Every moment revealed another facet of the unhappy life that she had led, and with each confession came a new swell of love for her inside his heart. Before they had confessed their feelings and come together, Charles had lived in torment at the idea of their committing adultery together…of him becoming a rake, rather than a gentleman. Yet their union, once made, had filled Charles with a sense of rightness so profound, that hearing accounts of Janes' husbands' cruelty made a righteous anger swirl in his breast, all his own guilt forgotten.

For a moment, Bingley found himself staring into his glass, quickly lost in contemplation of Jane. Wondering how she must be feeling at that very moment…wanting to hold her through it, questioning why she would not meet his gaze when he had left her…. what could it have meant? Thankfully before he became completely lost in his worries, the sharp strike of cue meeting ball jolted him to his senses. The Colonel stood across the table, his brow lowered severely, his typically laughing eyes glaring down at the plays before him. He knew he ought to say something humorous at the disastrous play, but his wits were dulled by his preoccupation with Jane. Bingley smirked slightly as he finished the drink, acknowledging the futility of attempting to dismiss those thoughts, if only to himself. He was a man who had recently fallen hopelessly in love with the wife of another, and to pretend such self-knowledge did not occupy almost all his waking thoughts was a fool's errand.

Famed congeniality falling short, Bingley looked about the room, hoping that the others might provide him with some line of opening to begin a new conversation after the last one had trickled off. If Bingley was lost in his own thoughts, surely all his guests were equally preoccupied, and it could do none of them any good in this moment, especially at such an hour. His eyes moved toward the hearth, knowing who to expect there.

Darcy stood facing the flames, both hands clasped behind his back tightly. Bingley rarely felt himself small in a group of men, but when Darcy stood erect as he did now, he felt himself shrink in the man's shadow. It was a proud posture, broad shoulder, chin upturned and held with an air of nobility and self-assurance. His quiet friend had not always stood so tall in a room of men as he did now. Bingley loved Darcy as a brother, was closer to him than nearly any one now save Jane, but he also realized he had the awe and respect with which a younger brother might perhaps idealize his elder, as well. The man facing the flames was something more than Darcy, his friend and companion of several months, he knew, from Darcy's bearing alone, that the Master of Pemberley was deep in thought. He felt almost shy to approach the man in such a moment – but the repressive silence of the room had to be broken to bring about an end to everyone's evening. He looked at his friends back, lips poised to posed a question when –

"Blast!"

Unsurprisingly, the outburst came from the far end of the room, which was occupied by Constable Gantry, several candles, and an array of papers and books splayed about in system which could only make sense to the runner himself. Gantry and Darcy had rejoined their party perhaps thirty minutes prior to the Constable's curse and had yet to divulge much of what had been discussed. The Colonel had demanded an accounting from them immediately, but Gantry flatly denied him, settling into his notes without sparing the Fitzwilliam spare a second glance. Shocked, he turned toward his cousin, who simply said, "I will not speak now and interfere with Constable Gantry's investigation. We both know that I cannot be counted on to be wholly impartial in my retelling. That is why Constable Gantry is with us."

The colonel had clearly been agitated by his cousin's reticence but could hardly argue with the truth of his logic. Constable Gantry was here to serve in a professional capacity, and they were well pleased with what he had managed to ascertain from this situation so far. However, after waiting in reluctant silence for nearly the better part of an hour the tired, sluggish Colonel finally had enough.

With the Constable's swear, Richard spun on his heel turning towards the Bow Street Runner. "What is it? By God, I can bare this suspense no longer." His head swiveled toward his cousin's back. "I demand to know at once what sort of scandal you have entangled our family in, Darcy."

There was an electric pause – all eyes were on the Master of Pemberley's back as he squared his shoulders. He turned toward his cousin slowly, his voice was low, even. He spoke with a calm and quiet delivery, that made all listening lean toward him despite themselves... "Please cousin. Remember why it was that you were drawn from your bed in order join myself and Miss Bernard on this expedition. Was it I that sent the summons? Or did such a note come from your Father's hand?" He gave his cousin a pointed look, but continued on in the same patient manner saying, "Once I called on Adelaide and she confirmed her connection to the Bennet family of Hertfordshire, I knew there would be a great deal more scandal attached to her than to the life of a typical actress. I also knew that we had knowledge of the Bennet family affairs before any other souls in the country, and it might yet be in my power to see justice served in a quiet manner that does not harm the reputations of the Bennet sisters. "

Richard rolled his shoulders back, attempting to meet his cousin's unspoken challenge, but failed to intimidate. He was a bit red in the face, and clearly flustered, stopping and starting his speech a few times in attempt to find an argument. Darcy walked toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come cousin," he said with some dry humor, "nearly three decades I've walked this Earth, have you ever seen me make an important decision for our family based on impulse? Have you not taunted me since boyhood for my careful, fastidious nature? I have not drawn you into a scandal…you have been brought here to see that no such scandal ever exists. I realized that I was out of my depth in attempting to out smart the rumor mills of the ton, so when I was in London, I enlisted the best help I could think of…your mother's. I need you to trust my judgement, Richard."

With Darcy's words, the Colonel could not help but allow a small smile to crack through his glower. The besotted fool was correct of course. Even in the throes of senseless passion, Darcy remained Darcy. In fact, from what had been recounted to him of Darcy's first failed proposal to Miss Bernard, he remained so himself, even in love, that it served to his detriment. Richard's smile quickly transformed into a rueful chuckle. "You're right, I'll admit it. I'm here at the behest of my family to work as your agent, and I haven't been taking to my orders as a good soldier ought." He clasped the hand on his shoulder and Darcy lowered it, offering it to shake. Richard took it in his firmly, adding, "Consider me advised, cousin. The reasoning for your decisions may be beyond my comprehension, but I will stop questioning if they are being made from a lucid state of mind. Perhaps a military life had made me more cynical than I care to be, but I quite like stories with happy endings. If you truly believe it is possible that this sorry tale could have one, I am pleased to assist you in making it so."

Darcy smiled at him fondly. "Constable Gantry and I…we believe it could be possible." He looked toward the Londoner with a hopeful expression, but Gantry was bent over his notes again.

"Constable" Darcy asked, "I believe we are all eager to retire. We need not dissect all the details of Miss Bennet's testimonial this evening. Perhaps we might just illustrate the principle matters that were discussed so that all parties may retire informed?"

Gantry looked up from his notes, his chocolate brown eyes blinking owlishly. "Pardon me, Sirs" He said, dipping head in a general nod to the room. "I had several things that I needed to clarify while our discussion with Miss Bernard was quite fresh in my mind, but while dictating those notes my mind soon took on several different theories that I needed to explore, and I quite lost myself to examining the puzzle."

"No apologies are needed, Gantry." Darcy replied with respect. "Do you feel prepared now to provide us all with a summary of what we have learned this evening?"

He nodded to his employer. "Absolutely. Mr. Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam when you quit the room Miss Bernard had been asked by Mrs. Collins to share the reason why she decided to leave Longborn, which prompted Miss Bennet to faint."

"When Miss Bennet was recovered, we resumed our interview. Miss Bennet proceeded to recount an incident that occurred in Sep 04 between herself and her guardian. Miss Bennet claimed on this day she was dismissed from her lessons early and proceeded to overhear a conversation between her guardian, Mr. Collins and unknown person, most likely an adult male in the laboring class by Miss Bennet's description. She claims that the conversation she heard was an argument regarding a crime the two men had committed together, and that Mr. Collins was being extorted by this gentleman in order to stay quiet. During the conversation, she ascertains that the crime being discussed was in fact the murder of her father, the previous master of Longborn estate. She realizes too late that Mr. Collins and his guest are moving from the stables and coming in her direction, faints, and is discovered by the men. Collins brings Elizabeth inside, and proceeds to punish Mrs. Collins for Elizabeth's actions in order to frighten Elizabeth into silence. However, Elizabeth believes that Collins is not satisfied by this display and will seek out a private opportunity to question her, threaten her, or worse. When she goes to bed that evening, she sets up a series of traps in her bedroom utilizing broken glass and pin needles. She claims that Collins entered her room that evening but was unable to speak to her regarding the incident because he cut his foot on glass. Mrs. Collins recounts her husband cutting his foot, but he blames it on a garden tool left out overnight and fires a gardener. The wound becomes infected, and Collins is waylaid for nearly two weeks while Elizabeth makes plans to run away from home."

"By God!" Bingley cried, his heart swelling with thoughts of Jane's horror and anguish. Her husband was a brute, but a murderer? A murderer who had taken the life of a beloved father, stolen an estate that should not yet have been his, and took the most beautiful of his daughters for a wife because no one had the power to stop him. How could one so kind and gentle as Jane possibly live with the knowledge of such an evil in men? In the very man she had been bound to by the Lord and law?

"I am afraid that is not the worst of it Mr. Bingley." The Constable said with a frown. Reaching onto the top of his piles he pulled a letter that was clearly several years old. "Miss Bennet intercepted a letter between the saboteurs which indicated that her own life was in jeopardy thanks to what she had discovered. She stole this letter and left Longborn that night." He handed it to Bingley, for the Colonel was looking on somewhat slack jawed, evident his thoughts were racing.

Bingley crossed the length of the table so that he and the Colonel could read the letter together, as Darcy claimed he did not care to hear the vile contents spoken aloud again. After reading the missive, Bingley could hardly blame him. The thought of two grown men plotting the best way to kill a thirteen-year-old girl…his stomach rolled as his mind turned over the contents. Everything seemed to fall into place now…of course Elizabeth would have runaway from home if she believed herself in danger from her guardian.

"The is an outrage." Said the Colonel, recovering from his shock faster than the more sensitive Charles. "I cannot believe Miss Bernard could invent a narrative as awful as this – what purpose could it possibly serve her to invent such a story of anguish?" The gears of his military mind turned rapidly to strategy. "What do you know of Mr. Bennet's death?" He asked Gantry with eagerness.

"It was a carriage accident approximately 50 miles outside of Hertfordshire, Mr. Bennet was on a journey to Kent, reportedly to sell some of his rarer edition books to a private buyer in the county. They encountered a bad stretch of weather on tough roads and hit a rut that threw the carriage to its side. Mr. Bennet broke his arm and bumped his head, but the severity of his injury was not recognized until the next day. He lingered for two days before passing, cared for by the town apothecary."

"This letter!" The Colonel said, shaking the missive slightly in emphasis, "It tells us a great deal. What town was Mr. Bennet in when he died, who was the apothecary, was he treated in this inn…" He glanced at the paper, "The Hare & The Hound? A line of inquiry must be put to investigate the manner of Mr. Bennet's death immediately."

"It is being done." The Constable replied steadily. "I have considered the ways such a note can impact this case at length, I assure you. I have hopes that an inquiry into Mr. Bennet's passing may yield some results of use, but nearly a decade has gone by since his death. We cannot pin our hopes in that direction. There is no denial amongst us that Mr. Collins has participated in a grievous deal of crimes against his family, but this letter…and if, Miss Mary is able to retrieve them, Mr. Collins ripped slippers, are the only physical pieces of evidence that exist which can hold together Miss Bennet's accusation against him. It is far too sensational a story for a judge to believe without definitive proof. It will be the words of a runaway actress against a gentleman."

"Miss Mary is to retrieve slippers? From Longborn?" Bingley shot out, alarmed. "I think it was made quite clear to us that Longborn would not be a safe place for her at present!"

"She will not be dissuaded, Mr. Bingley." Came the wiry Londoner's reply, "She believes that she can utilize the servant stairs to enter the attic undetected by her guardian while he is suitably distracted."

"How can Miss Bennet know when he will be so? She cannot be certain how the man will arrange his days with no family at home."

"Simple, Mr. Bingley," Gantry laughingly replied, "For you and I shall call on the gentleman to pay our respects and update him on the condition of his son's health, keeping him occupied while Miss Bennet conducts her search. After all, holding one of the principal seats in the area, and with your estates separated by only three miles, would it not be in your best interest to make amends? Universally known as an amiable, generous man, will it not draw unwanted attention to the family, should you be forced to cut Mr. Collins publicly? Nothing good will come of your quarrel with Mr. Collins," here Gantry paused, and his voice dropped slightly as he held Bingley's gaze. "for anyone." He added.

Bingley's eyes stayed on Gantry even as the others began to ask questions of their plan for the morrow. He had looked at Charles in such a sad, knowing manner that it had made his blood run cold. The Constable was right. The accusations made against Mr. Collins were damning, but the evidence of his crimes, regrettably slim. Reverend Collins had turned a corner that afternoon, and Dr. Barringer now had sincere hopes for the man's recovery. If the parson lived, then the magistrate could not charge his father with a manslaughter, as had been discussed amongst them. In truth, the matter of charging Mr. Collins' of any crime at all would be the right of the victim, no matter how much proof Gantry could gather showing the man's ill intent toward his son. Should young Collins refuse to implicate his father in his assault, the best chance they had at seeing the villain punished by the arms of the law would be lost. With the parsons beating dropped, the only case they could bring before the magistrate would be the testimony of an actress against a landed gentleman regarding an alleged crime committed years in the past. Without evidence…unquestionable evidence of what had occurred all those years ago…it would be likely that the villain would emerge through these trials unscathed. He gulped as the reality of that truth landed on him…despite everything, Mr. Collins might yet remain free, and Mrs. Collins might very well have to return to him and Longborn.

The righteous indignation Charles had proudly carried in his breast for the past two days sank like lead to his gut. Had he made an enemy of the one person who held real power over his beloved? Jane had spoken to him of the vile letter he had sent her, accusing her of adultery, warning her of spies amongst his staff. She had spoken to him of her husband's orders to compromise Miss Bingley by locking her in the sickroom with his terribly ill son or forcing an engagement between himself and Miss Mary. They had laughed at his audacity and marveled at the mechanics of his mind which imagined anyone would believe a man capable of compromising a woman while he lay on death's door. He had been proud of himself for ejecting Collins from his home when he acted badly, had felt himself emboldened to rise to the challenge of facing the intimidating man…but the bravado of the previous day was gone…replaced by the real anxiety that his brash actions could make life infinitely worse for Mrs. Collins and her sisters.

He had evicted Mr. Collins from his home, while keeping women legally under Collins' protection under his roof. He had no right to any of the Bennet daughters, Collins did. Everything he knew of Collins spoke to the cruelty of his nature, his proud, conceited sense of self-importance. He cursed his impulsiveness; his fool hardy endeavor to play the chivalrous knight to a fair maiden in distress. Rather than protecting Jane and her family, Bingley realized his act of gallantry would only increase the severity of any punishment the Master of Longborn would eventually give to his wife and ward when they returned to Longborn.

He had delayed the unhappy reunion, yes. He hoped the Bennet girls found some satisfaction in the reprieve. As he thought of the pair of sisters in his protection, an epiphany occurred. He realized suddenly that when he had ejected Collins from Netherfield and refused to allow Miss Mary to leave with her guardian, he had never once consulted the feelings or wishes of the girl he had been trying to protect. He hoped Miss Mary was pleased with his intervention…but perhaps she thought the attention officious and the protection clumsy.

Blasted impulse.

He raked a hand through sandy curls. Loathe as he was to do it, as insincere as any apology could be, Gantry was right…he would have to apologize to Mr. Collins. Holding onto a grudge would be to no one's benefit, except perhaps Collins himself. The man would love any excuse to stop his household from associating with Bingley's, and he would have to tread carefully in order to heal the breach, lest he create a greater rift between their families. Charles could not bear the idea that Jane might be forbidden from his society if he could not appease her husband…and he worried that any kindness he now showed the family might be perceived as insult by the Master. The care and comfort of so many were Mr. Collins purview as master of a working estate. A Collins who had been insulted, ejected from another man's home, a proud man whose ward had chosen a stranger's household for protection over his own in company…that would be an angry man, an embittered man...quite possibly a violent man. If Mr. Collins treated his wife dishonorably, beat his own son hard enough to damn near kill the man…how then did he treat his tenants, his servants? How many vulnerable people truly were subject to that man's power…and just how angry had Bingley's actions made him?

Charles blanched. There was nothing for it. He had as much need as Miss Bennet to travel to Longborn on the morrow. For the sake of dear Jane, and all those who lived under the protection of the master of Longborn, Bingley would have to humble himself before that odious man. He turned his gaze to the clock and winced at the hour. Surely it was better to face Mr. Collins' ire with some sleep, was it not?

Oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Billiard balls carried through the drafty halls of Netherfield, but the soft, sweet whispers of sisters talking long into the night traveled no further than the foot of the bed where the two eldest Bennets lay, before they dissipated into the quiet. The three young women had stayed in the little sitting room for an hour or more after the gentleman had quit them for the evening, their conversation moving erratically from one subject to another as they tried to fill Elizabeth's mind with seven years of an entire town's history while questioning her of details of her life in London. They laughed together as often as they cried, but as the hour drew on Mary could see that both her sisters grew wearier by the moment. It had been a joyous day, but a truly exhausting one, and they would need their strength and wits for whatever trials lay ahead. Ever the practical Bennet, Mary had ordered her sisters to bed, encouraging them to share Elizabeth's suite if they did not wish to be parted. After all, Jane's presence in Netherfield as a nurse gave her a license to roam the halls which would not be afforded to guest in mourning. So long as she was not witnessed entering or exiting the room itself, no one would question why Jane carried back and forth through the halls. They had asked her to come with them, but she had demurred, knowing that there was much Jane and Elizabeth still needed to say to each other, and that not all of it was meant for Mary's ears.

She was correct, of course. Jane and her dear Lizzy curled together under the blankets and spoke together long after their candles had burnt out. At some points, silence did reign between them – a separation of such length and the intensity of the emotion entailed meant that some awkwardness could not, even should not, be avoided. Afterall, neither sister was the girl she had been the September Lizzy left Longborn. Both their girlhoods had been cut short, and though their lives had traveled vastly different paths, each had learnt how to survive in an adult's world alone. They each had their own custom set of armor, perfectly fitted to the tragedies of their own heart.

Yet for all their hesitancies, their trepidation to be truly vulnerable before the other…both girls wanted the intimacy of their childhood bond restored and an uncomfortable feeling was hardly going to stop either gentlewoman from achieving her goal. Jane was guarded, but she was still Jane, and between her sweet nature and Elizabeth's determined one, they canvassed topics of delight such as their younger sisters –

"It is not the most prestigious seminary for them – but it is respectable, and both Kitty and Lydia do quite well in their studies. Kitty plays the harp beautifully, and no girl has a finer stitch in the county. Lydia is mad about painting and would forgo most her other lessons for the easel, but Mr. Collins has been very clear in his expectations of what he expects of our sisters for his investment in their education, and she does not slack despite her disinterest."

To whispered confessions which had brought tears to their eyes, "In truth Lizzy, I am glad now that I can not carry a child. For a short while, I longed for a baby of my own to love in a household which offered so little of it. But when Mr. Jones finally declared me barren, I realized I had been blessed. The Lord knew that my home was not a happy one, and that my child could have been used as a weapon against me. That having Mr. Collins' baby would tie me to him in a way beyond even our marriage vows had, and that he was the last man who I wanted to share such an important connection with. My barrenness…it freed me."

There were countless important things to be shared, felt, understood, and reflected upon between them. But there was one subject which had been occupying the forefront of Jane Collins mind since she had first heard mention of it only earlier that evening. That subject was love – more importantly, the love between her sister and illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley. They had spoken of many things, but they had yet to speak of the handsome, taciturn gentleman from Derbyshire and in a lull in the conversation, Jane felt the weight of curiosity pressing against her lips.

"Lizzy love?" She whispered into the darkness.

Chestnut curls rustled. "Hmm?"

Jane smiled softly in the dark. "Is it true that Mr. Darcy insulted you before he was introduced to you, within your hearing?"

Tired eyes snapped open as a quiet laugh escaped her throat. "Did Darcy tell you that himself?" She asked with warm amusement.

Jane giggled girlishly in reply. "That he did Lizzy, he had much to say of his acquaintance with you in London."

Jane could not see the pink of her sister's cheeks, but the heat of her blushes warmed the blankets.

"He was not always so open as he is now," Lizzy replied, sounding almost bashful. "You must have made quite an impression on him to be so forthcoming. At the beginning of our acquaintance, I was sure he disliked and disapproved of me. When he began calling on me with Colonel Fitzwilliam, I thought he merely went to oblige his cousin, or perhaps because he was bored and had nothing better to do, he spoke so little."

"I do not think it is I who have made an impression on him, Lizzy." Jane interjected, pointedly. Then with another giggle in her voice she continued saying, "But Lizzy! Will you not tell me what he said? Poor Mr. Darcy was so embarrassed when he confessed it."

"Oh yes! Of course, if you insistent upon it." She smiled slightly, recalling the scene in her memory. "I first encountered Mr. Darcy at Duke _' residence when the Venus series was first presented to the public. Signore Forelli was of course, a guest of honor, and as the primary subject of the portraits I was included in the invitation. I was still quite young…sixteen, in fact! This event was among my first where I was "out" to company, and Signore kept me quite heavily chaperoned. It had just been announced in the papers that I would be taking the role of Ophelia in Hamlet three days before the Duke's event. My new manager, Thompson, had planned it that way purposefully. I spent the evening in constant demand, with purported well wishers extending their congratulations…but I believe most the Ton wanted to catch a glimpse of so-called Venus in the flesh and take stock of their newest plaything. I know that there are several wagers regarding my person amongst the so called 'gentleman" of the aristocracy." Elizabeth paused, and Jane could almost hear the roll of her sister's eyes that followed her pronouncement.

"It was a Crush. One of the most attended events of the Season." Elizabeth sought the shadows for her sister's eyes. "I know you have only been acquainted with Mr. Darcy a few weeks, but if the intimacy of this week in the same house has taught you anything of his character…you must realize he is a man who truly detests a crowd. It was the last possible place he should have been. Of course, I certainly did not know that at the time…and his being uncomfortable was no excuse to behave in such a poor manner. He is capable of pleasing when he wishes to please."

The sisters laughed together for a moment, and Elizabeth continued the story with a smile saying, "At one point in the evening, I had stepped away from my party in the pretext of mending my skirt, but instead stepped outside for a breath of air. I hardly had a moment to breathe when a gentleman I had only spoken to once when we had been introduced earlier that evening, approached me, and attempted to introduce me to Mr. Darcy. We were both mortified, but he was positively affronted. He offered me nothing more than his bow and saved all his addresses for the gentleman. He broke company from us almost immediately and turned to another gentleman he knew, where he began critiquing the art and said some rather unflattering things about Forelli's choice of muse for the goddess of love. I don't believe he had any idea whom he had been introduced to and was unaware of how prodigiously rude he was being when he spoke so in my presence."

Jane laughed, but not with out dismay. "Oh Lizzy, I wish I could say your story shocks me. Your Mr. Darcy certainly did not delight Meryton at first acquaintance. His manners are always proper, but hardly more so- at first. However, he took an interest in Mary from the very first assembly. They did not dance, but they sat near one another and had a conversation at length. I thought there might be an attraction there, at first, but soon dismissed the idea. Though he did look at her a great deal.…I confess I felt the luck of having two single men of good fortune move into the neighborhood just as strongly as our dear mother would have, God rest her soul."

Lizzy laughed with delight at Jane's comparison to her mother. She had been a forgetful, flighty woman, but she had mostly been an affectionate and cheerful mother who doted on her bevy of pretty daughters, even as she bemoaned that none of them were sons. Due to the entail of Longborn estate, Mrs. Bennet had devoted her life's effort to birthing a son, and ultimately gave her life in her quest for a Bennet heir.

"Oh Jane, he is not my Mr. Darcy" Elizabeth said with a self-pitying sort of sigh.

"Is he not?" Came the sharp rebuttal. "Elizabeth, you spoke of your love for Mr. Darcy to him before me this very night, and even after hearing your whole story – he remains devoted to you. Whatever can you mean when you say that he is not yours? You should accept that which he's so generously offered."

"Jane." The younger sister's tone grew a bit firm as she spoke. "To marry Mr. Darcy is an impossibility – the Master of Pemberley can not marry an actress. What is more …. I do not wish to marry at all."

"If you believe yourself in love with Mr. Darcy, why should you not wish to marry him? Do you believe you are undeserving of such happiness in life?"

With her sisters words, Lizzy bolted upright in the bed, the blankets pulling from her sister with the rapidity of her motion. "Not undeserving, no. We are all deserving of love, save perhaps a few dark souls on this Earth. But Jane, surely you can see how complicated an alliance between Darcy and myself would be…as well as why a young lady might wish to remain single indefinitely."

Jane rose as well, propping her head against her arm. "I see nothing so very complicated in Mr. Darcy marrying Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of Thomas Bennet of Longborn."

Lizzy huffed. "I suppose there is not, although we both know there would be many among his circle who would expect Fitzwilliam Darcy to make a better alliance than the daughter of a middling country squire… however it would be an unequal match, hardly an outlandish one."

"Any member of the Ton sensible enough to be worth knowing would eventually allow themselves to be charmed by you Lizzy. I always admired your friendliness, your lively disposition when we were young. You are sure to make friends anywhere you might find yourself. A display of snobbishness from people you would not care to know otherwise would hardly be a detriment to forming a love match, I should think."

"No indeed!" Lizzy asserted with a touch of pride in her voice. "I have mixed enough in the Ton to have no fear of barbed words and antiquated beliefs. There are some who will never deem me worthy of their notice, regardless of what I might do – why should I worry about such intractable characters? If they are so determined to dislike me, I assume I would find myself in company with them but rarely. I would never allow myself to be intimidated from perusing my own happiness by the opinions of people so wholly unconnected to myself!"

The blonde sister smirked. "So, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, might I question why exactly you have deemed Mr. Darcy's proposal as impossible to accept?"

Hazel eyes flashed in the light of the glowing embers. "Because, Mrs. Collins, the Ton does not know me as Elizabeth Bennet of Longborn, they know me as Adelaide Bernard – actress, muse, and the future mistress of his Lordship So-and-So."

Jane paused, momentarily rebuked. She looked toward her sister in the darkness of the bedchamber, her blue eyes tracing the silhouette of her sister's long, thin nose and pouting lips. "I wonder…" She said thoughtfully, "How well do they know Adelaide Bernard, truly?"

Lizzy turned toward her, confusion written across her famous visage.

"From what I understand in the papers, the actress Adelaide Bernard is to spend the Season in the country, in mourning for her protector Signore Forelli. She has a final performance in the new year and then she will stay away from London for a year. Lizzy, if you do not want to live as Adelaide anymore, there is no reason why you might not allow her to retire from the stage in that year. What if Adelaide Bernard simply never returned to London? How long would the Ton remain interested in her should she leave their sight? A few weeks, perhaps months at most."

Understanding sparkled in Elizabeth's eyes. "Do you really believe they would forget my countenance so easily? How many of them have a copy of my likeness in their homes?"

Jane placed her hand on Elizabeth's cheek, stroking it with a gentle affection. "Dear Lizzy," she spoke, her bemusement evident in her voice. "I have not seen these paintings myself, but I have witnessed enough young ladies grow up, including myself, to know that you look much more alike between ten and five-and-ten, than you do between fifteen and twenty. Lizzy, you were still a girl when Signore Forelli painted you – now you have the face and figure of a woman fully grown. I do not believe the likeness would give your identity away…and as you age it will become even more simple to deny any connection. If you wish to marry Mr. Darcy without the scandal of his marrying an actress, you need only reclaim the name Elizabeth Bennet fully – and allow Adelaide Bernard to fade into memory."

Before Elizabeth could protest, Jane continued, her practical mind drifting toward the logistics of how such a subterfuge against London could be conducted. "As for the rest…the fashions will change, and have you not learned enough of costuming to use fashion as a disguise? Was that not the very reason you chose such a dramatic mourning veil for you bonnet? Wearing different clothes and sporting a different hair style would do all the rest. In a few years' time, any number of young women with dark curly hair and mischievous eyes might be mistaken for Venus."

Elizabeth frowned. "There is some merit to your idea, but as Mrs. Darcy I would be expected to move with this society. I may be able to fool many, but I did have some closer acquaintances amongst the Ton, and intimates amongst my own class…I could not possibly hope to fool Thompson, or the other actors of my troupe."

Jane chucked lightly at her sisters worries. "Why would your manager, Mr. Thompson, ever have access to Mrs. Darcy of Derbyshire? Do you think he would dare approach such an illustrious lady? You greatly underestimate the influence you could exert as the wife of so powerful a man as Mr. Darcy. Thompson would not dare to cross so great a lady, no matter how strongly he suspected. No indeed, his livelihood is quite dependent upon the patronage of ones such as yourself, Lizzy. I tell you, Elizabeth…I really do believe it possible. Let Adelaide spend her year of mourning in the country. Announce her retirement from the stage at the end of the twelfth month. In the meantime, Mr. Darcy can announce his engagement to a country nobody from Hertfordshire, marry her, and take her on an extended honeymoon. Any number of excuses could be concocted to keep Mr. Darcy and his bride away from London for two or three years…and by the time you are presented to the Ton as Mrs. Darcy, Adelaide Bernard would be so forgotten hardly anyone would note even the vaguest resemblance."

"Oh Jane! You make it all sound so simple, so easy…but what of my accusations against your husband? Mr. Darcy might marry Elizabeth Bennet, but she comes with her own special brand of scandal attached."

Jane's amusement with her sister faded, and the mood grew somber. "Should word spread of the accusations you have made against my husband, scandal will follow the Bennet family, but it does not necessitate that the resolution of this story must be carried out in a public manner. I do not yet know how the unhappy truth can be concealed, but if I believe anyone may be capable of preventing a scandal, I will believe it of your Mr. Darcy."

Lizzy's frowned deepened, and her expression was thoughtful. "What I would give for your optimism Jane – to believe that I may see justice for my father without sullying his name in the process, leave the life I had built for myself and achieve wedded bliss while remaining one step ahead of the scandal that threatens me…could such a happy ending be possible?"

"Of course." Came the fierce reply. "Of course, a happy ending is possible, Lizzy. I do not understand this defeatist attitude you have adopted whatsoever. You had enough courage to brave London on your own – why is it that your courage now falters in the idea of braving a life together with the man who loves you?"

"I confess, I am afraid." Elizabeth whispered hotly. "The prospect of becoming a wife frightens me, even to a man so good as him. I long for his companionship, but I fear relinquishing my independence to any person. You know full well what the bonds of marriage mean, and after escaping one guardian, I am loathed to put myself in the control of another. I know that Darcy is honorable and kind, I know it in my head as well as my heart, but I am frightened to belong to him all the same. I have a little of my own money, and Forelli left me an inheritance which will allow me to establish a respectable home for myself. It had always been my wish to challenge Collins for the guardianship of my sisters – to give all my sisters the same freedom and independence I had achieved in London."

Jane laughed again, but the sound was wooden and hollow. "Elizabeth, if you truly wish to challenge Mr. Collins for the guardianship of our sisters, do you not realize how much better positioned you will be to do so as Mrs. Darcy, rather than Miss Bennet?"

The younger sister released a scoff of annoyance, knowing her sister had cornered her on the subject. She loved a man who wished to marry her, and her clever sister had laid out a path for her to do so. But was Elizabeth brave enough to follow it?

'Indeed, I do Jane – as well as better positioned to have our entire family indebted to Darcy forever. It is too much to be borne. He loves me now, but he will come to resent me for the burden of care taking that is placed upon him in marrying the Bennets. And the scandal of our family history would always haunt the marriage."

Jane rose from the bed with her words, rubbing tired cornflower eyes. "I should leave you now…we must get some rest this evening." She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her sister's brow. "You have the same stubborn nature I remember. I will not attempt to force you to change your opinion on the subject. But Lizzy…I beg you, please think about what you are sacrificing in rejecting Mr. Darcy's suit. A partnership based on love and mutual respect…is there anything so precious on this Earth? Were we not built to love, and be loved in return? You have formed a rare, powerful connection with a wonderful man who wishes to share his life with you…to make you his helpmeet through all life's trials and tribulations and be yours in return. That is no small thing, Elizabeth…no small thing indeed."

The door closed gently, and Jane Collins slipped into Netherfield's drafty halls unnoticed, leaving her sister wrapped in blankets, head swirling with all the possibilities of what her future could be.

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Author's Notes: I know many of you were hoping for action - but there were still a few hours left to explore in this tumultuous night in Netherfield. I know you've been half frustrated and half admiring Elizabeth's resolution to turn down Darcy despite her feelings...what do you think of Jane's plan...could Lizzy simply walk away from her double life? Can Mr. Collins be held accountable for his crimes without bringing the Bennet family into the public eye?