It started raining while Elizabeth was dining with Mr. and Mrs. Smithers. She cursed to herself, to be sure, not a curse a sailor or soldier would recognize as such, but in her mind a curse all the same; she wished she could set fire to the rain, she would not be able to meet with Mr. Darcy in the garden as she had planned. She had thought that if she could show him that she had changed, that she no longer disliked him, that she was sorry for everything that she'd done, that if he'd just give her a chance, she'd honour and respect him like he deserved. After all, at the wedding, after she had jilted him, he had told the congregation that he would've been happy to marry her. She could make him happy if he'd just give her a chance. And if he was happy, she'd be happy, she would make it so – now, if only the rain would quit.

Elizabeth told Mr. and Mrs. Smithers that she knew Mr. Darcy and she would like to speak to him for 'news of home.' They agreed that she could have the use of the small parlour, as long as the door was open and her maid, Polly, sat in the hall beside the door. Mr. Smithers reminded her that she could tell Mr. Darcy she was companion to the Dowager Countess, but she could not tell Mr. Darcy any thing further about that grand lady.

Elizabeth paced in the parlour as she waited for Mr. Darcy; and as she paced, she wound her nerves tighter and tighter; this was her chance; maybe her only chance. Polly had gone to find him. What could they talk about? She didn't want to confess all with Polly in ear reach; she liked Polly but she didn't know how far she could trust her, not with such a juicy piece of gossip.

Elizabeth startled when the door opened, but it was just Mrs. Smithers bringing in a tea tray - "for you and your young man" – and when Elizabeth objected, she just laughed and said "he should be." When Mrs. Smithers left, she left the door open.

Not a minute later Polly announced Mr. Darcy and then left to take up her station just outside the door.

"Miss Ben … Carruthers" Mr. Darcy said as he bowed.

"Mr. Darcy" said Elizabeth as she curtsied. "Please take a chair," she gestured to one of two matching chairs in front of the fireplace, separated by a small table holding the tea things, as she sat in the other chair.

In the silence that followed Elizabeth prepared Mr. Darcy a cup of tea, no sugar or cream, with a slice of lemon, if they had it, which they did, and handed it him.

"Thank you" said Mr. Darcy, "just the way I like it." He raised an eyebrow at her – 'how had she known?'

Elizabeth almost overfilled her own cup with cream as she wondered the same thing – 'how had she known?' She did not, could not, answer that unspoken question; instead, she laughed, a small nervous laugh, dangerously close to a titter, and said "This is awkward. Should we speak of the weather? It appears to be raining."

"The Anglo-Saxon name for February was Sōlmōnath, which might have meant month of wet mud, although the Venerable Bede said it meant the month of cakes." Mr. Darcy said this with a perfectly straight face as he picked up a ginger biscuit from the plate on the tea tray, and after examining it, bit into it.

Elizabeth could only stare at him nonplussed and when he licked a biscuit crumb off his lower lip, she almost swooned.

Paying no attention to Elizabeth's reaction, or possibly, lack of a reaction, Mr. Darcy continued on. "They called March Hrēðmonath in honor of a fertility goddess named Hreða; most appropriate, don't you think, given what spring brings."

Elizabeth couldn't think, she could only react, was reacting in fact, if the flush spreading over her was any indication, especially as Mr. Darcy, having finished his biscuit, licked his lips checking for wayward crumbs. If he smiled, she would not be able to stop herself, she'd get up, lock the door and throw herself at – oh, he was starting to smile! Elizabeth turned away from him, she couldn't look, she had to get control of herself.

"Miss Carruthers, are you well?" Mr. Darcy asked.

Elizabeth could not answer, she took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to take another; she did not want to start breathing fast like her mother did when she had an attack of nerves.

"Miss Elizabeth – should I call your maid for assistance?"

Shaking her head Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Darcy. He was not smiling, he wore a look of puzzled concern, if there was such a thing. "No, please don't. I was just overcome for a moment, thinking of – thinking of home. Yes, home. Do you have any news?"

"Of?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"Longbourn. My family, the Bennets."

Now it was Mr. Darcy's turn to be nonplussed. He stared at Elizabeth and twice started to say something then stopped. Finally, he said "I have not been back to Longbourn since the - ah"

"Wedding" Elizabeth finished his sentence for him.

"Exactly" said Mr. Darcy as if that settled the subject. But it did not.

"And what have you heard of my family?" asked Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy elected to dissemble. "As you can appreciate, people are reluctant to mention the Bennet family to me. Besides, I am sure that your correspondents are keeping you fully abreast of news of your family."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm not in correspondence with any of my family or friends."

"Why on earth not?"

"I'm in disgrace; association with me might taint them."

"Says whom?"

"My father."

"Almost a year has passed; other events may have overtaken your supposed disgrace; maybe it is time for the prodigal daughter to go home."

Elizabeth sighed. "If only that was so."

"So, your father has cut you; I cannot imagine that your older sister has done so."

"Jane? No, she wouldn't have; she always has thought the best of everyone. But she hasn't written to me."

"Does she even know you are here? You should write to her."

"My father will intercept the letter."

"Then write to her in care of your uncle and aunt Gardiner. I am sure that they will be able to get it to her some way."

"I'll do that." Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Darcy. "Thank you for your advice. Now let's talk of something else. Why are you buying Quickentree Abbey?"

"I am not buying it. I am just here to see if it is worth buying at the asking price."

For the rest of the visit Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy discussed the estate. Given the lack of contact Elizabeth had with the tenants she could not answer all his questions but he seemed to appreciate her observations about the estate.

Before they parted for the evening, they agreed to meet the next morning in the garden – if it was not raining.