My dear readers, as I often do, I must open with an apology for the delay in posting! I am trying to be regular, so I am sorry this has been a while in coming. I have the plot outlined but have struggled to determine what Darcy and especially Elizabeth are feeling for each other and feeling about the possibility of being together! That's the sort of thing I need to know when I write chapters like this. Anyway, I am getting there with them. Also, as I said before, I am changing a few things that have come before and I know that might confuse these later chapters, but I will always flag those things in these author notes for you. Nothing new to report today! Thanks everyone for reading and encouraging me – I have really enjoyed the twists and turns this variation has taken us on and hearing your opinions and receiving your input – keep it coming! I hope everyone is doing well. Stay safe! If you are so inclined, you can find me on social media ( mselizabethsquireauthor) and some of my completed works on Amazon (pen name Elizabeth Squire)

Chapter 31

Elizabeth did not return home directly. She had too much to consider to even think about being among her family, pretending normalcy or being questioned because she could not. Instead, she took a path that led away from Netherfield, away from the fields of Longbourn and into the woods that surrounded the west side of the county. Though she had shared with Mr. Darcy several of her favorite haunts no one knew this one. No one save her sisters. She left the path about a half mile after entering the wood. When she had hopped over a small stream that swelled in spring and became a muddy track in the fall, she made her way up a hill. Once at the top, to the east she could see the irregularly shaped pond where she and her sisters learned to swim, where they still swam when the weather was warm enough. To the north she could just make out the steeple of the village church and could trace the treelined path to Meryton. But she was not here to cast her eyes on the sites of Meryton or even the woods. Today she needed the large sycamore that the Bennet girls, in their younger and more whimsical days, had dubbed their tower when they imagined princes coming to find and rescue them. Though she did not intend to climb too high today Elizabeth swung herself up on a sturdy low branch and easily made it to ten feet off the ground before she chose to settle against the trunk on a large branch, a favorite of hers among the lower limbs.

She sat, eyes closed, for several minutes trying to let the wind and the sounds of a nearby stream calm her racing heart and mind. Her walk had allowed her to replay the conversation with Mr. Darcy enough times that she was now intimately familiar with all of the parts that made her the angriest. However, as she sat in the stillness and let the breeze tickle the loose strands of her hair against her face what she seemed to be recalling were the other things he had said – the not offensive ones. At the time he had seemed to skip right over them and so so had she, but some of those words now danced around in her mind and they would not be silenced by the anger and confusion his others had caused.

Love . . . admiration . . . attachment . . .marriage

And the way he said her name, softer than anything around it.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked about, trying to clear her head of these thoughts. They were not useful and though they were pleasant in their own way, in the end such remembrances could only bring her pain. Even if the sweet words of sincere admiration . . . love, had not been accompanied by the others, the words of offense, arrogance and condescension, and she could not forget that they had been, these words would still not be enough to erase the truth of Longbourn, of her family responsibilities, the truth of the path she had chosen. And unless and until she could determine that the entail could be broken, she would continue down that path. Soon, even the muddle of Mr. Darcy's proposal and her angry response were lost as she turned her gaze to the south and saw the fields of Longbourn. They were almost all low and bare-looking from the harvest. The color provided by the posies, columbine and thrift had long since gone, gone too were the light reds of the apples and the soft orange of the apricots. Though some leaves held on, their bright and vivid colors were mostly a memory or a promise. All that was left were the brown, nearly barren trees, green fields ready to be plowed under for winter and pasture fields spotted with white and black sheep. Elizabeth noticed all of this but her attention skitted past it and focused on the wheat fields having yielded less crop than last year, the sheep which should have been in a different pasture and the barn which she could not see but which the fields called to mind and which certainly needed to be repaired this winter. Though in the past these invading thoughts might have been unwelcome, today Elizabeth was thankful for the distraction her singular concentration on Longbourn, its farms and tenants provided. She laid her head against the beloved tree trunk and worked out which farmhands could stay on and assist with the barn repair and how she might utilize the others so as to be able to keep them on until planting in the spring.

About an hour later she climbed down the tree feeling considerably better. This was not saying much as she had been in a frantic state of misery when she ascended. She arrived home to find the Meryton party as well as Kitty had returned, and they were not alone. Charlotte and Maria Lucas had apparently joined them in the village and had returned with them to take tea. Sir William was revealed to be in the study with Mr. Bennet.

They related all the little details of their errand that had entertained them and were sure to delight their absent sisters – Mrs. Norris's cat sneaking into the butcher shop, the ribbons and bonnets at the milners (Jane and Mary had each made a purchase) and the new gentleman Mr. Denny had introduced them to.

"He was the most handsome and charming man I have ever seen," Lydia declared. Elizabeth looked to her other sisters for their opinions.

"Mr. Wickham is very handsome and displayed considerable charm during our brief conversation," Mary offered, and Jane's nod signaled her agreement.

"I expect he will join the other officers if they come to call this week. He seems fond of company." Jane added. "Were you able to accomplish all of your tasks, Lizzy?"

Mr. Collins, as was his custom, had positioned himself by Elizabeth's side and was seeking to make himself agreeable to her – asking after her time during their separation, her comfort at the present moment and plans for the rest of the day. She tried to be comforted by the contrast of his easy and accommodating nature and that of another gentleman. However, in truth she found his eagerness and constant chatter grating and though she could not exactly fault him for it, Elizabeth knew if it continued into their, possibly, married lives it would not promote her happiness and in turn, she doubted would contribute to his.

"In a manner of speaking," she turned to Jane in answer to her question. "I ended up at the sycamore."

At these words all of her sisters looked at her. It might not have been noticeable. Conversations did not cease nor did they ask her further questions. But within a quarter of an hour of this statement Lydia had maneuvered the Lucas sisters to the door and Mary's suggestion of a rest to Mr. Collins was met with grateful approval.

Jane poured tea and they seated themselves in a circle amongst the chairs and sofas patiently, and impatiently depending on the sister, waiting for Elizabeth to speak.

"I saw Mr. Darcy this morning," she began.

"Was that why you did not want to go into Meryton with us?" Lydia asked eagerly. "You had a rendezvous planned?"

"Certainly not," Elizabeth answered, with some indignation. Though she balked at the term, it was fairly close to the truth.

"What happened?" Jane asked.

"He proposed," she admitted after a long pause. Having half-expected some giggling or squeals of excitement from her youngest sisters and perhaps even exclamations of some kind from the others Elizabeth was somewhat taken aback by the absolute silence that greeted her declaration. Jane looked at her other sisters before offering her response.

"You refused him."

"I did."

"Elizabeth!" Lydia and Mary both exclaimed.

"I imagine there is a great deal more to this story," Mary offered.

"Indeed," Elizabeth conceded. Although she did not want to tell them anything regarding her plans to attempt to break the entail for fear of raising their hopes, she decided to tell them everything else concerning the proposal and so she did, emphasizing, perhaps, more the words of rudeness than love without really meaning to. When she finished she was again met with silence. This time it was Kitty who spoke first.

"You are not making this up?" She asked with marked incredulity. "While he proposed marriage, he really said all of those insulting things – he really called you inferior, called us beneath him?"

"It is not all that surprising," Lydia said, "Mr. Darcy has always been proud and though he has, at times, tried to fit in here he has never really wanted to be accepted by us because we are not worthy of him."

Completely against her will Elizabeth found herself defending Mr. Darcy.

"I do not think that is entirely true, Lydia. He is not particularly comfortable with those outside of his intimate acquaintances and he has tried to get to know the people here in his own way. When you do not know him, he might seem proud, but I believe it is often merely his shyness."

"There seemed to be a fair amount of pride in that proposal," Kitty challenged.

"That is true," Elizabeth conceded. She knew well the insults contained in the proposal, though it had only happened a few hours ago she felt as though she had been reliving it over and over for some time.

"Was there no declaration of love? Did he offer no explanation as to why he would offer for you at all if he thought you so beneath him?" Jane asked.

And here was the part she did not want to dwell on because she refused to focus on any of his pretty words when they had been accompanied by so many ugly ones and . . . she was afraid she would in the end because she very much wanted to even if it would change nothing. Being loved by Mr. Darcy was . . . something. But in the end it was something that changed nothing.

"He did attempt to make me understand that there were feelings that helped him overcome these myriad of objections . . ."

"You mean he told you he loves you," Lydia interrupted.

"Whose side are you on?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Yours." Lydia answered with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Elizabeth, if you want us to march to Netherfield and tar and feather Mr. Darcy we will." Though Jane looked somewhat skeptical, they all nodded. "However, I think we would first like to fully understand the nature of your feelings for the man we are condemning."

"If you are willing to share with us." Kitty put in.

"Of course, she wants to tell us, otherwise she would not have told us about being at the sycamore," Mary pointed out logically.

"No, you are right of course," Elizabeth conceded. "The truth is though I spent over an hour on one of our favorite limbs I think in order to find clarity I require my sisters more than our tree."

"You are reconsidering your answer?" Kitty asked.

"No, not at all."

"Then what?" Lydia wanted to know.

"I don't know!" Elizabeth exclaimed in frustration. Before she could articulate the questions or concerns with which she needed help from her sisters the clock struck the hour. "I had not realized what time it was. I am to meet our uncle at two o'clock."

With that Elizabeth excused herself to change her clothes. When she returned Jane, of course, offered to walk with her into Meryton, but as she had only just returned Elizabeth declined though Jane was only dissuaded when Kitty put herself forward as an alternative. The sisters set off together at half past one.

"You did not need to accompany me. You may take the path to the Johnsons and I will not tell," Elizabeth indicated the forthcoming divide in the road. She knew this particular family had a sick child and that Kitty could rarely resist the opportunity to be useful to their tenants. Instead, Kitty linked her arm with her sister's and silently continued on with her. After a few minutes Elizabeth spoke.

"Do you blame me for refusing him?"

"Why would I blame you when you did it, at least in part, because you believe you must for us, for Longbourn, for father?"

"I know, but in a way, it feels hypocritical," Elizabeth confessed. "How often have I preached to all of you the value of a match based on love, respect and affection and when presented with an opportunity for this myself I rejected it . . . most vehemently."

"While I would love to hear more about this vehement rejection," Kitty said with a small smile, "my more pressing question is to whose love, respect and affection you refer – yours or Mr. Darcy's?"

Elizabeth was closest to Jane and Mary and spent the most time with Lydia these days – largely because she had taken on certain aspects of her youngest sister's education. It was because Kitty was generally soft spoken and required so little of those around her that Elizabeth often forgot how quietly insightful, she could be. Perhaps because the question was posed with genuine curiosity and real concern Elizabeth chose to answer – though her answer really wasn't one.

"I don't know for certain."

"Please don't give up." Was all Kitty said. They walked the rest of the way in a heavy, though not uncomfortable silence. When they reached the small square building that housed their uncle Phillip's office, Kitty kissed Elizabeth's cheek and bounced off down the street saying something about books and the bakery. Elizabeth greeted the clerks copying documents on the first floor, bent over their desks, before hurrying up the stairs to find her uncle. When she burst through his door, which stuck and generally required a fair bit of force to convince it to give way, she was surprised to find the chair in front of his desk occupied. More surprised still to discover who the occupant was.

"Mr. Darcy."

He scrambled to his feet.

"Miss Elizabeth." He looked composed, but somber.

"Where is my uncle?" It was not at all what she had wanted to say, but it was a pressing enough matter. Mr. Darcy seemed surprised that this was the question she chose to ask, but he answered rather than posing a question of his own – he clearly at least one poised on his lips before thinking better of it.

"It seems his meeting has run late. His clerk, a Mr. Abernathy, allowed me to wait for him here."

"I did not expect to see you, Sir," Elizabeth told him frankly.

"I told you I would assist you."

"That was before . . ." she did not know how to finish that particular sentence and so instead she said. "I had not imagined that after this morning you would have any interest in helping me."

"Then you misunderstand both my character and my feelings for you." This was said not in angry accusation or even resigned sadness, but in a voice so devoid of emotion Elizabeth really looked at him for the first time. After ascertaining that it was truly him upon entering, her eyes had intentionally and scrupulously rested on anything but Mr. Darcy. Now she examined his face closely. He looked away. But not before she saw in his eyes what he was clearly trying to conceal. Unhappiness or perhaps sorrow, but she would not allow even her mind to name it as such.

"And what explanation do you plan to give my uncle regarding your presence?"

"I had not thought of . . ." Mr. Darcy composure slipped. He looked uncertain, embarrassed even.

"You said that I could leave that matter to you," she pointed out. Again, this was not the matter that seemed most important between them. There was so much that needed to be said, or unsaid, but this had to be decided, and quickly, so she pressed on. "You cannot be here without some explanation . . . when we spoke you implied or I inferred that you had a reasonable explanation to offer my uncle otherwise . . ."

"I do apologize." The composure had not exactly returned, but his tone was entirely formal, and he refused to meet her eye. "When I spoke, I had . . . I imagined I would be here in a different capacity . . . with some right to interference that would not seem at all out of place." He looked down when he finished speaking.

Elizabeth realized what he was saying just as looked up again. Their eyes met. Again, she did not see what she expected, which was mortification or perhaps anger at having just referenced the disastrous proposal, his anticipation in her acceptance and the allusion to her refusal. Instead, she saw again that unhappiness or sorrow that she now had to name as the latter. Before Elizabeth could respond or either of them could begin to consider alternative ideas to present to her uncle as to his presence that gentlemen entered and as it turned out their concern had been in vain, he drew his own conclusion almost immediately upon seeing together and was not shy about implying, fairly obviously, that conclusion. This embarrassed Elizabeth, but she could hardly focus on this emotion as she was thoroughly confused by Mr. Darcy's response which she would almost describe as smug. Mr. Phillips clearly believed Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth had a romantic attachment and all that stood in their way was Elizabeth's commitment to Longbourn and by implication the entail. A few minutes of conversation was all it took to reveal this truth. Before Elizabeth could correct this erroneous assumption, her uncle said something that made her suddenly unwilling to do so.

"I have never wanted to lay the truth of it all of the circumstances surrounding the creation of the entail before you, Lizzy," he said gravely. "However, this," here he motioned between herself and Mr. Darcy, who were seated in front of him, "is the one consideration that would prompt me to do so."