Prior Arrangement

by elliotbennet

Our story begins 2 years before the original P&P. Elizabeth has grown up loving and caring for Longbourn, knowing it would one day pass to a complete stranger whom her father despises, but then that man dies and his son visits. Would she consider marriage to save Longbourn? A prolonged arrangement in place, what happens when a certain gentleman comes to the area years later?

1. Chapter 1

Dear reader, this story has been altered and so I have published chapters 1-32 here in old chapter 1's spot (that chapter didn't really change) so that if you are reading the older version you can still do that for a time, but if you are opening this for the first time you can just dive in to the more finalized version. Once you've finished this you can skip ahead to chapter 33 and go from there. I hope that makes sense. The perils of a work in progress and an author who gets fixated on the legalities of a codicil to an entail and the motivations of an old man (I swear its more interesting than it sounds when it's just sitting here in an intro sentence). I hope you enjoy – appreciate any feedback!

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a family of only daughters must be in want of a son. This truth is so well fixed in the minds of the parents of a family lacking in sons that they may, in the end, elevate one daughter to roles and responsibilities traditionally reserved for the male sex. This certainly seemed to be the case with the Bennet family. Their second daughter, Elizabeth, grew up and into the role of caretaker to their estate of Longbourn alongside, and increasingly in place of, her father.

June 1809

"Another rousing morning excursion?" Mr. Bennet asked his daughter as she entered the breakfast room smiling and looking windswept.

"Yes, "Elizabeth confirmed cheerfully. After a quick kiss to her father's head, she went to the sideboard to fill her plate then took a seat beside him. The pair sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as Mr. Bennet resumed his perusal of the Farmer's Journal. Eventually when Elizabeth finished her food, she began her inquiries.

"Will we be able to tour the Hudson's field today?"

"Are they still determined to press the issue?" Mr. Bennet asked, carefully folding the paper and quirking a brow.

"Do not look at me that way." Was the unsympathetic rejoinder. "The stone wall has been in a state of disrepair for weeks and now the livestock are at issue. We must assess it and find a resolution."

"Very well," he sighed. "However, if I accompany you to the Hudson farm, I expect to be left to myself for the remainder of the week. I imagine you can manage things well enough without me."

Elizabeth nodded her assent. This grudging involvement was so much more than she had gotten years earlier and so she reminded herself to be thankful.

"Please allow me my morning and we shall make our way this afternoon. I have reason to believe our evening will not be a peaceful one so I must get my reading in while I can."

"Shall I ask you to explain yourself, Sir, or let you have your fun?" She asked. Even as she said this her three younger sisters made their loud and boisterous entrance into the room. It was some minutes before they were all settled at the table with plates and even longer before some argument or other between the two youngest was resolved enough for anyone else at the table to be heard.

"If you find that you can be still and, dare I ask, quiet for more than a minute I have some news to share that I believe you will all want to hear," Mr. Bennet said.

"Oh, do tell us!" Lydia, the youngest at just thirteen, exclaimed. "Nothing new or interesting ever happens here."

Her father paused for a moment and Elizabeth thought if he had been aiming that look of derision at her she would have been quelled, but Lydia either did not understand or chose not to see. She simply chattered with Kitty, the next youngest and her elder by two years, about what the news might be.

"Well, my dear, Lizzy," he said when Kitty had finally taken the hint and convinced Lydia to quiet, "I hope you have ordered a good dinner today because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."

"Whoever do you mean?" Asked Lizzy. "I know of no one that is coming, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call, and I know our dinners are good enough for her – she is does not expect us to put on a show."

"No indeed, it is not Miss Lucas. In fact, the person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger."

One look at her youngest sisters and Elizabeth knew they were considering all of the eligible gentlemen in the neighbourhood – though they were only fourteen and fifteen respectively matchmaking had already become a favorite pastime. They knew the sooner she, the only daughter of age in the house, was married off the sooner they might be considered. She knew the former list was short and the latter empty. If the mystery guest were an eligible gentleman it would be better if Elizabeth's elder sister Jane, the far sweeter and prettier sister, who was residing with their aunt and uncle in London for a few months were home to be won. Elizabeth had neither the desire, nor frankly the ability, to attract suitors.

"Mr. Langley!" Kitty guessed with an eager smile. The nearly forty-year-old tenant of Purvis Lodge was a particular favourite of the local matrons as his main requirement in a second wife was someone who could care for his four young children. Elizabeth imagined Kitty had heard him mentioned as a possibility for herself since she was not allowed to be picky due to her headstrong, tomboyish-bluestocking ways.

"It is not Mr. Langley," said their father; "It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life."

This caused a great commotion and Elizabeth saw that her father greatly enjoyed the enthusiastic questioning from all the occupants of the breakfast room that ensued. Finally, when he had had enough, he explained:

"About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."

Although she was just as surprised as her sisters who now exclaimed at this news, Elizabeth found herself distracted by her father's insistence on treating the entail as a source of humour. It was a matter which, understandably caused considerable anxiety in their home and she wished he would not sport with them about it.

"It is strange of him to write to you when you have chosen to be estranged from one another for so long. What can he mean by it?" Mary observed.

"Ahh I see your confusion," Mr. Bennet said with an indulgent smile. "The Mr. Collins who chose to correspond with me and who will be our guest in a matter of hours is the son of the Mr. Collins whom I knew and . . . disliked so strongly. You will remember, my dear, that I did say I had not seen this gentleman in all of my life."

"Why did the son choose to write you?" Elizabeth asked.

"Perhaps I could enlighten you all by reading the letter?"

Everyone agreed to this.

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 7th May

Dear Sir,

"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father –

Here there was a general interruption.

"His father has passed away?" Elizabeth asked. "Had you been told?"

"Indeed, I had," Mr. Bennet confirmed. "A mutual acquaintance informed me that he died last month."

The ladies all exclaimed at not being informed and Mr. Bennet's responses and explanations of it having no immediate or practical impact on their lives were insufficient to satisfy their indignation. It was some time before he returned to the letter.

". . . always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have wished to heal the breach. My mind is now made up on the subject for having received ordination last Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish. As a clergyman, I feel it is my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures will be acceptable and that the circumstances of my being next in the entail will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends – but of this hereafter. If you do not object, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday June 5th by four o'clock and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight following. I am respectfully yours and pass along my compliments to your lady and daughters.

William Collins

Chapter 2

"At four o'clock we may expect this peace-making gentleman," said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter.

Although he was affecting his usual casual posture and speech Elizabeth detected some real emotion in her father. She wondered if meeting the son so soon after the death of the father, a cousin with whom he shared such acrimony, was distressing him. What she wanted to do was scold him for giving her no notice of their guest until the morning of his visit, but having learned to pick her battles she left that one and chose to ask other questions.

"I do wonder in what way he can mean to offer the atonement he thinks our due?" she asked. To herself she wondered what type of man he was. His letter was an odd mix of apology and arrogance.

To the youngest Miss Bennets the conversation had long since become uninteresting. The nature of the entail, the disagreement between their father and a distant cousin, another visiting cousin, none of this seemed to promise any great mischief or adventure. Mary Bennet, however sat quietly trying to think of something both interesting and important to say. By the time she had done so the family were rising to quit the room. Such was too often the case with her attempts at joining the conversation – attempting to find her place between the wit of her father and Elizabeth, the constant chatter of Lydia and Kitty, the kind insight of Jane, when she was present.

Elizabeth presented herself at the door of her father's study at precisely half past one. She knew he would have taken the morning to read his latest book, eaten his midday meal, had a brief nap and not yet had time to become irritated with the accounts.

"I see I have not escaped you," he said from his chair.

"No, you have not. Now let us be off as we must be sure to return to greet our guest."

It was with only a few more protests countered by words of persuasion that the father and daughter set off, on their favourite mounts, for the farm of their tenant to resolve the issue of the border fence. As the Hudson's farm was on the outskirts of the estate, Mr. Bennet suggested a race. It was a favorite pastime in which they had not indulged in quite some time. It did both horses and riders some good. Since recovering from a severe fever last fall Mr. Bennet had only slowly returned to some of his favourite activities, riding being the last among them. Sailing across the beloved fields of Longbourn Elizabeth felt that familiar sense of happiness that the activity normally brought, along with a surge of hope that it evidenced the last piece of her father's return to wellness.

"You seemed satisfied with the solutions we reached," Mr. Bennet said to his daughter as they made their way back at a more sedate pace several hours later. "As you should be, you were the architect."

"Indeed, I am, but you give me too much credit. Although Mr. Hudson and I came up with the idea to trade labour on the wall for sheep so that Mr. Hudson's son can add livestock to his growing farm, you persuaded Mr. Galston to the wisdom of the scheme."

"A father will do a great deal for his children, so I suppose I simply took advantage."

"You did no such thing," Elizabeth protested. Having just spent an hour watching her father exert himself on behalf of Longbourn in a way that she remembered occasionally from her childhood but had become rare until recently she did not want to let the moment pass without marking its importance. "Thanks to your intervention those families resolved a serious dilemma. We also gave the next generation a new opportunity that will benefit them and Longbourn in the long run. You reminded me of Grandfather Bennet."

She knew that particular commendation might have the opposite effect to the one she intended, but it was true none the less. Her grandfather had loved Longbourn and worked hard for its prosperity, often with a little Elizabeth on his knee, by his side. When her father did not say anything, she thought he was just going to ignore her comment, but he chose to respond in his own way, reminding her of what her beloved grandfather had done.

"Well, I hope the heir appreciates it," Mr. Bennet said sourly. "Perhaps we could mention the potential for increased revenues at young Hudson's farm."

"Papa, let us not worry about the benefit Mr. Collins might one day reap," Elizabeth offered, trying to recover the congenial mood they had found earlier, "instead let us consider how many more ribbons Kitty and Lydia will be able to purchase over the course of your very long life."

Mr. Bennet's laughter took them the rest of the way home. Elizabeth, Mary and Mr. Bennet were awaiting their guest by half past three while Lydia and Kitty stayed above stairs ostensibly at their lessons to be called to tea at a later time.

At precisely four o'clock Mr. Collins was received at Longbourn by his hosts. Mr. Bennet said but little and Elizabeth sensed he was tracing a resemblance in the son to the father who had caused so much pain so long ago.

Mr. Collins was a tall heavy looking young man of five-and-twenty with short curly brown hair that appeared to already be receding slightly. His air was stately, and his manners were formal. Once everyone had seated themselves in the drawing room, he began what would quickly become a pattern of compliments – on the size of the room, on the furnishings, on the aspect from the window. The most effusive admiration was reserved for Elizabeth. He praised her beauty almost immediately upon their introduction. He seemed to find nothing wanting. He declared Mary quite lovely as well. Nothing did not please Mr. Collins. The youngest girls were summoned, declared delightful, and the entire afternoon spent in complimentary conversation.

It was during a stroll about the grounds, which were also excessively complimented by their guest, that Elizabeth learned more about the means by which Mr. Collins intended to make amends to her daughters. She was not disappointed.

Mr. Bennet had taken himself to his study and suggested the rest of the party show Mr. Collins the pretty wilderness surrounding Longbourn. Since their mother's death five years earlier Elizabeth had taken on the role of mistress, though she had been but fourteen at the time. Her father's . . . grief, anger and melancholy made it necessary. Jane became a mother to their younger sisters, the youngest of whom was only nine at the time, but because she was not Mr. Bennet's ward it fell to Elizabeth to run the household, officially, Jane did plenty in the background. However, this long practice had perhaps made him, made them all, slightly negligent when it came to certain standards of propriety, such as allowing your seventeen year old daughter to act as the guardian, hostess and her own chaperone to a guest who was an eligible gentleman.

As a result, the four ladies and one gentleman strolled about the gardens with Lydia, who loved all things flora and fauna, pointing out various flowers and shrubs as she skipped ahead of their honoured guest. The younger girls then fell behind, becoming engrossed in their own conversation. Mary with Elizabeth were left with Mr. Collins.

"I hope in due time you will be able to see all of my fair cousins well-disposed in marriage. Indeed, I have no doubt of such an eventuality," Mr. Collins offered as their discussion had turned once again to the young Bennet ladies.

"You are very kind I am sure," Mary responded, not really knowing what to say. She knew this gentleman meant well. He had been nothing but kind and complimentary since entering their home, but conversation with those outside her intimate circle, and sometimes with those within it, never came easily to her. Then she thought of the entail, that thing they rarely, if ever spoke about, but seemed to govern their entire lives.

"It is a source of considerable anxiety within our home. Things are settled so oddly." Elizabeth looked at her sharply. Though she spoke her mind to her elder sisters on occasion it was beyond unusual for her to speak so boldly in company. But what did Elizabeth expect – did she imagine she was not setting some sort of example with her own behavior?

"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate," Mr. Collins responded in a way that indicated he was neither offended or surprised. "I am very sensible, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and could say more on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure you that I came prepared to admire them and I was not disappointed. At present I will not say more, but perhaps in a few days' time I will have a discussion with Mr. Bennet that will greatly relieve all of your minds."

This auspicious conversation did take place. Elizabeth did not hear or even know exactly when it happened, but its effect, that she felt. It surprised as much as it displeased her.

What no one could help but glean from the dinner conversation was Mr. Collins's very great admiration for his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Some observation of Mr. Bennet's about his good fortune of having made such a connection at the very start of his career as a clergyman was all his cousin needed to begin a subject upon which they quickly learned he did not tire. The Bennet family was soon to understand that her ladyship was a great personage, an ideal mix of affability and condescension. A minute description of their interactions followed, including but not limited to the interview that led to his appointment, the two dinners he had taken at her very grand home, Rosings Park, the modifications which she had planned for the parsonage which he now called home, the comments she offered on the several sermons which she had heard him deliver and more. By the end of the meal, the discourse, which had been carried on primarily between Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins, had demonstrated to Elizabeth that while he was neither extremely stupid nor entirely devoid of merit, their cousin was also not intelligent or full of qualities that would recommend him to others. She was happy for the reconciliation of the family and also that his visit was not to be a long one. She would be unhappy once she discovered the substance of the conversation he had with her father immediately following the meal.

As Elizabeth penned a letter to Jane that evening at her desk after she thought the rest of the house had retired, she was surprised when her father, normally the first to retire, entered.

"Lizzy, I am glad you are still awake," Mr. Bennet said as he quietly made his way into the room.

"Indeed, I meant to go to bed before now, but found I had some things to add to my letter to Jane before I posted it tomorrow."

"Of course. Has she met any suitors," Mr. Bennet asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Elizabeth chose not to reply. She knew he was teasing her, but she also knew he did hope she would meet a gentleman, this was the reason he had sent her. Not only because marriage was the best for all of them, but for Jane meeting someone away from Hertfordshire, away from the hints of scandal around her birth that remained almost twenty years later, was her best hope. Jane's reasons for going and the Gardiner's reasons for receiving one of their favourite nieces were quite different. Elizabeth knew that while Jane had been on several outings that involved eligible men and had received callers whom her mother would be ecstatic to have as potential beaus, her sister's heart had not been touched. This was a requirement Jane had long ago decided was necessary to induce her into matrimony. Elizabeth had not definitively determined her own position, but she was fairly certain her elder sister had the right of it.

"Little one," Mr. Bennet sighed. Elizabeth wondered at this rare use of her old nickname. "Mr. Collins has offered us a opportunity to save our beloved Longbourn."

Chapter 3

"Father, what do you mean?"

"His desire to reconcile our families will take the form of an offer of marriage and you will be the one to receive this offer."

"Father . . ." Elizabeth began to object. She did understand the importance of remaining in Mr. Collins's good graces, when their father died, they would essentially be at his mercy. He could give them shelter or force them from the only home they had ever known. They had only their mother's small portion to live on and their even smaller dowries to entice husbands and if, God forbid, their father passed any time soon it would be years yet before her younger sisters would be ready to marry. And really Elizabeth did not relish the idea of any of them being forced to marry only to secure their comfort. Then there was the matter of Longbourn – what would Mr. Collins do with it? Would he know how to care for it? Could Elizabeth bear to be parted from it? It was not as if she had never considered these questions before, but because she knew she had no control over the disposition of the estate she had chosen not to dwell on what would happen in the future beyond her father's lifetime.

Elizabeth had taken too long considering the situation. When she focused once again on her father, he was regarding her cautiously.

"I would never ask you to do something you do not want to do, Lizzy, but Longbourn means everything to you and this is the way you can save it and your sister . . . it should not fall to you. I'm afraid both your grandfather and I have failed you. I ask only that you give him a chance. See if you could come to care for him."

Elizabeth heard the words and to some extent they reached her. She was not exactly pleased about what her father was asking her to do, but those were not the sentiments that most bothered her. At that moment what she most longed for was someone who understood and considered the responsibility, burden and honour it was to care for an estate such as Longbourn. Her father had changed a great deal in the past two years, had helped her more, been a shoulder to lean on, but he had never loved Longbourn the way she did. It occurred to her that perhaps Mr. Collins could be that. Perhaps he could come to love Longbourn as she did. It would be best for everyone involved if he could. After all, the well-being of her family and all those who depended on Longbourn would one day depend on him. It would be an ideal situation if she could learn to find him agreeable. Elizabeth resolved to not be as stubborn as her mother incessantly accused her of being. For the sake of her sisters and Longbourn she would consider him as a potential suitor, but not right away. She recognized that she was too young for such a thing and that being forced, prematurely, into a match was not a recipe for a happy marriage.

Time was of significant importance to Elizabeth. Regardless of the suitor, she knew she was not ready to marry and although she was sincere in her willingness to consider her cousin she was in no rush and would not allow herself to be moved. She told her father she would give Mr. Collins a chance.

Chapter 4

True to her word, the next morning Elizabeth attempted to engage Mr. Collins in conversation as the family sat in the drawing room. Although he spoke of his patroness more than she would have preferred she was able to draw out of him some stories of his recent time at Oxford, though it seemed he had done little beyond the required courses. Later that afternoon when Charlotte Lucas came to visit Elizabeth was happy to have her friend carry some of the conversational burden. Charlotte had a great deal more patience than herself. Dinners were likewise easier than one-on-one discussions as her sisters and father helped engage him. Though whether their inquiries showed him to advantage was an open question. Three days into his visit Elizabeth invited Mr. Collins to tour the estate with herself and her father. Because Mr. Collins did not ride, Mr. Bennet offered to take him in the cart. Elizabeth rode beside them and attempted to convey to Mr. Collins not only the details of what they were trying to do in the fields and tenant farms but also the importance of each family and the future she envisioned for the estate. Hours later Mr. Bennet insisted Elizabeth ride home with Mr. Collins while he walked, leading her horse. Elizabeth knew he must be desperate to escape her cousin if he was willing to walk all the way from the last farm they had visited, though it was less than a mile it was still no small task.

During the journey back to Longbourn Elizabeth sought to engage Mr. Collins in a discussion on what they had seen. His impressions of Longbourn, its tenants, crops, flocks and fields were of vital importance to her in her forming an impression of him.

"I appreciate you attempting to understand things that are well outside your sphere, cousin, and please know that when. . . . that once a certain happy event takes place you would no longer be required to do so. I assure you I would see to it that this sort of activity would not be required of you."

With a deep breath and a prayer for patience she responded:

"It is not required of me now, Mr. Collins. I assist my father because I want to, he wants me to and believe I offer something of value."

"Of course, of course," he responded quickly. "Please, my dear Cousin, I meant no offense. I am sure you do the best you can and bring a particular set of skills to the task. What I meant to suggest was that perhaps someday you would be permitted to focus on other things . . . allow others to bear these burdens, which must in some way at least be odious to you as they are not, you will permit me to say, the natural inclination of your sex."

Elizabeth told herself he meant well.

"I do not take offense," Elizabeth said with sincerity, many of her friends and neighbours questioned her active involvement in Longbourn's management, not to mention the tenants and staff she had to win over. She was no stranger to his way of thinking. "But you will find that when I am permitted to focus on other things my mind and attention inevitably wander back to crop rotations, herd counts, rent day or drainage. I am afraid my interests are quite fixed."

He looked at her for a moment and Elizabeth felt the import. His response would dictate hers, not simply in the conversation but in their nascent friendship and perhaps in what would was to come between them in the future. She would not tolerate a man who could not respect her dedication to her home.

"I see I have much to learn from you," he said simply and urging the horse onward proceeded to demonstrate his eagerness to do so with all manner of questions. Elizabeth had never been in more danger of liking a gentleman as none so close in age to herself had ever listened with such enthusiastic attention to her information, ideas and hopes for Longbourn. If Mr. Collins had had any inherent charm or good looks, she may have accepted him by the end of his visit as his interest in the estate and her knowledge did not wane. However, Mr. Collins was without these natural gifts as well as a good deal of sense so Elizabeth, though pleased, was not nearly certain.

On the very day their guest was due to leave Elizabeth was called into her father's study. Mr. Bennet signaled for her to take a seat.

"Lizzy, as you know Mr. Collins will be departing within the hour," he began.

"I know, I have already said my farewells," she responded.

"Yes, well," Mr. Bennet continued, looking slightly uncomfortable "Mr. Collins has requested a courtship."

"He said nothing to me."

"He thought the request might be better received if you and I spoke first," he told her looking . "You know my desire for you child. I wish to see you happily settled. I want to be able to provide for your sisters. I want you to be able to stay at your beloved home. None of these things seem to be within my power." He hung his head and Elizabeth's heart squeezed at the weary hopelessness she heard in his voice.

"What are you asking me?"

"Are willing to consider your cousin?" he asked, his voice small.

Elizabeth heard in his question, in the sound and weight of his voice the pain he felt for not being able to protect her, Longbourn, her sisters. She felt sympathy for him, but she also remembered the years where he had made very little effort. The years where the weight fell almost entirely on her young shoulders and that time still left a scar, despite the nearly two years he had been working toward something different. There was more she could indict him with, but she had rarely dared speak it.

"It seems I must consider it," she said quietly. She wanted to offer him some small consolation in that moment but found herself unequal to it. All her strength went to accepting her fate. As such she might be forgiven for speaking her next words aloud. "If you had laid down your pride and gone to your cousin while he yet lived, he might have agreed to end the entail. You could not bring yourself to do it. So now we are here."

She had not raised her voice, but she knew the words would cut deep. Words she had held in for two years. Since the day she learned from her Uncle Phillips exactly how entails worked, and about the chance that existed to break the one that kept Longbourn from its daughters.

"This is wonderful," a naïve and hopeful Elizabeth had exclaimed to her uncle that day. "If there is a possibility that the entail can be broken my father must seek out his cousin and attempt to persuade him. Papa has often said how miserly he is and how poorly he lives now. We may be able to offer him some immediate pecuniary advantage that will appeal to him more than the hope that he will someday inherit an estate he will not even know what to do with. I am certain he could be worked on if my father would be willing to at least appear penitent and let his cousin begin the negotiations and set the terms."

"Elizabeth, my dear niece," Mr. Phillips replied with fondness, "you are smarter than both of my clerks and most of my peers. Your plan is a good one."

If this was so Elizabeth at first wondered why her uncle looked sad and not hopeful. Then she wondered if this was so why her father had not already sought out his cousin. If, as her uncle said, all that was needed to break the entail was for the current master and the heir to agree and write as such why had her father not attempted it? Dread began to form as quickly as an answer.

"But Papa will not humble himself to his cousin," she sank into a seat opposite her uncle's crowded desk.

"No, he will not, Lizzy. I am sorry. I have tried for years to persuade him."

"Do you know what caused the breach between the two?" She asked, still hoping to find a way to persuade her unconcerned father to act.

"I am sorry, child, I do not. It happened before I married your aunt and so I am afraid I was not privy to the goings on of your family and your father has refused to speak to me about it."

"But you knew his cousin? He lived here until shortly after my parents married did he not?" It was one of the few things Elizabeth knew about the mysterious heir of Longbourn. His branch of the family, descended from a sister of her father's grandfather, had lived in a cottage on the estate until Mr. Collins and his wife moved away almost years previously. Her father's hatred of Mr. Collins was so great that it still stood empty.

"I did not know him well, only by reputation really." When he said no more Elizabeth, as could be expected, inquired after the reputation of her father's cousin.

"Not good." Was the response. The subject was closed with as much gentleness as could be expected from her kind and indulgent uncle. If he had more to offer his niece he certainly would have, but he did not, and he knew further discussion would only upset her further.

"Can you deny it?" Elizabeth, sitting now with her father, persisted.

Before her father, who looked quite shocked and possibly saddened by his favourite daughter's rebuke, could respond Elizabeth's line of questioning was forestalled by a most unexpected source.

"That is quite enough, Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet said firmly.

"Very well," Elizabeth said, though she wanted to press the matter now that it was finally out in the open. She recognized that the issue of Mr. Collins was of more immediate importance.

"I believe Mr. Collins is worth knowing better." "However, I am not ready to consider matrimony at this time. I will agree to consider Mr. Collins when I reach my majority if you and he agree to allow me that time."

Mr. Bennet nodded looking deep in thought. Elizabeth sighed with relief. Theless than four years' time she had between that moment and when she must again consider marriage to her cousin felt like a reprieve from a harsh punishment. She did not pause to consider the implications of this sensation.

Chapter 5

If later that week Jane was surprised to receive a letter that was twice the length of her usual correspondence from Elizabeth, she said nothing in her return letter. Though Elizabeth dearly wished her elder sister were home to advise and comfort her, there was a certain catharsis in writing down what had occurred during the week of Mr. Collins's visit. She concluded the long tale with:

While I will not begrudge you any time with our dear aunt and uncle and our sweet little cousins, I must confess I anticipate with a good deal of eagerness your return next month. After reading all of the above you cannot be ignorant as to why. Oh, how I long for your guidance, given while you smile your sweet smile at me, and we take a long walk together through the quiet woods around our home. I will bore you with talk of tenant disputes, planting techniques and flock growth while you wait patiently for me to come around to the true source of all my anxiety. Then after some of your gentle prodding I will confess that I am still unsure of everything. I know that you are determined that nothing but the deepest love will move you to marry, but I am not confident I feel the same or at least that it will be the love of a gentleman that will move me. Would it be so terrible if it were my love of Longbourn, my love for you and our sisters that moved me? I cannot say for certain what I will do, only that I would not agree to any kind of courtship but also that I did agree to correspond with our cousin with the intention of getting to know him better and allowing him to get to know me. He will visit again for Christmas and then you will meet him and be able to advise me so I will not worry overmuch in the meantime.

All my love to our dear family. Include a description of your trip to the museum in your next letter.

Your loving (and favourite) sister,

Elizabeth

At the appointed time Jane returned home and Elizabeth found all the consolation she had hoped for from her sister's steady presence and kind advice. She did not, however; find any further clarity on the subject of Mr. Collins. Though the topic was canvassed regularly between the two sisters, Elizabeth felt no closer to a resolution even weeks after Jane's homecoming. However, as it was not in her nature to increase her vexations by dwelling on them Elizabeth soon put the idea of resolving anything from her mind and when a letter arrived for her from her cousin, she simply treated it as she would any other correspondence. Her answering letters were shorter, less frequent and certainly contained fewer references to condescending neighbours who gave unerring advice, but Mr. Collins seemed to find no fault. His letters were filled not only with words of praise for his patroness but also compliments for his cousin. Elizabeth, unused to being complimented, was alternatively flattered and uncomfortable by his words of admiration and approval. Mr. Collins corresponded with other members of the family as well. Mary wrote to him of her interest in scripture and sought his opinions on passages she read. Mr. Bennet even wrote occasionally, asking questions whose answers he thought would provide him with amusement.

Spring turned to summer to fall. For Elizabeth much of this was tied to planting and sheering and harvesting and other rhythms of the estate, but though she dedicated time to its management it was by no means the only thing she did. There were card parties and teas, morning visits and assemblies. The most enjoyable parts of her days and weeks outside of her work on the estate were her solitary walks and her rides, usually with Jane. Though sometimes she would go alone and occasionally her father joined her.

The orchards at Longbourn which had been planted in the spring of Elizabeth's thirteenth year were harvested to real effect that fall and the resulting crop and revenue were a vindication to Elizabeth who had encouraged her father to delegate appropriate attention and funds to their maintenance so that they would yield their fruit in time.

"I must confess, Lizzy I never imagined these little trees we planted on a lark all those years ago would produce such a boon," Mr. Bennet said as he closed the ledger book where he recorded the not insignificant sum he had received for the final shipment of apples. He was half in jest as of course the trees had been planted with the intention of making use of a large field that had been unused for years, but had Elizabeth not pressed him over the ensuing years to tend the trees faithfully as instructed by the books and journals she poured over it is likely Mr. Bennet would have simply let the trees on their own to see how they fared or perhaps forgotten about them all together.

"I am happy they did so well in the first year we have harvested," Elizabeth responded.

"I suppose you think I must listen to all your ideas now that this one has paid off so spectacularly."

"Indeed, I do, sir," Elizabeth smiled in return, enjoying their familiar banter. "I next suggest you begin to keep an entire fleet of hunting dogs in the manner of a true gentleman of leisure."

"Hunting dogs! Can you imagine the whine of a litter of dogs added to the din of this house? I think not. Off with you child while I count my riches."

In November Mary turned sixteen and was reluctantly brought out into Meryton society. She had spent the summer and fall studying some of those womanly accomplishments which would be necessary for this little event. A dancing master stayed at Longbourn for the month of July. Lydia talked her sisters into allowing she and Kitty to sit in on the lessons which they enjoyed a great deal more than their older sister. Needlework and drawing were focused on as acceptable drawing room activities Mary might excel at. She did not. The only accomplishment she enjoyed and demonstrated any capacity for was the pianoforte. Her lessons, which had been conducted piecemeal over the past several years, were now given some real attention thanks to weekly visits from a local widow who had been something of a master in her day. Mary knew that her father might not long allow her this type of regimented instruction but took advantage of the opportunity while she had it.

Elizabeth and Jane did their best to make Mary's transition as smooth as possible, but the middle Bennet daughter did not enjoy socializing. As she was forced to spend more time in society she turned with even more enthusiasm to her theological studies and her piano.

"I am tempted to hide Fordcye's Sermons," Elizabeth said one morning as she and Jane hung herbs in the stillroom several weeks before Christmas. "It was a full half hour this time."

"It could not have been quite that long," Jane responded without much force. "I thought she had several good insights."

"Jane!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "You do not, you are simply too kind to say what you really think."

A sigh may have indicated Jane's agreement.

"However," Elizabeth continued, "it is not actually a kindness to ignore Mary's incessant moralizing nor her pedantic way of speaking to people."

"But it is essentially harmless," Jane protested weakly.

"You must have noticed how Mrs. Long's nieces were laughing at her behind their hands. Mary was trying so hard to befriend them. I can hardly blame them for not being receptive to her overtures. It seemed more like a theology lesson than a conversation."

"You did not seem so forgiving of them during their visit," Jane observed with a smile.

"Well even if I did understand the source of their derision that did not mean I was going to stand for their rudeness to our sister."

"I am not certain they fully understood all of your quips at their expense, but I think enough of your disapproval was effectively communicated that they will not be returning."

"Good," Elizabeth said, "Mary is too good for them and you and I certainly have no interest in a friendship with such insipid young girls. However, I think we must do something beyond drawing room defensive tactics to assist her."

"I agree," Jane replied. "I assume you have some ideas."

"I do. You as well?" Elizabeth smiled. Despite their very different temperaments she and Jane often thought similarly when it came to their family.

"I thought perhaps if she spent more time with you and I it would be helpful."

"Yes, exactly." Elizabeth agreed.

So it was that Mary Bennet began spending three afternoons a week with her elder sisters under a plan devised by the sisters and approved by their father. Sometimes they brought her on their tenant visits and sometimes she sat in the extra chair in their father's study and observed as he and Elizabeth went over the account ledgers. Jane taught her about making remedies in the stillroom. She and Elizabeth reviewed books and articles on crop rotation and seed catalogues to determine plans for spring planting. They also developed a reading list that included books beyond Fordyce's Sermons. The sisters would discuss the books together each week on a night when the family had no fixed engagements. Eventually Mary did not need to be cajoled into this activity and contributed not only with enthusiasm but with an insight and intelligence that was acknowledged and encouraged by her sisters and even occasionally her father.

Mr. Collins came for his appointed visit and Elizabeth once more made every effort to find him agreeable. It was at times a difficult task, but there were instances when he was a pleasant companion. The assembly the family attended on the last night of his stay was not one of them. Mr. Collins was not a gifted dancer and Elizabeth dearly loved to dance. As he was trying to show himself to advantage it would have served him to attempt to partner with Elizabeth only the once, but he was not entirely aware of his own shortcomings and so thought the best course was to seek her hand for a second set. She had not the heart to refuse him but would not accept him a third time both for the sake of her toes and what her acceptance might imply to the gentleman himself and those in attendance. Charlotte Lucas was once again indispensable and herself danced twice with Mr. Collins.

The new year came, and Mr. Collins went home to Hunsford and the illustrious Lady Catherine. Mary flourished under Jane and Elizabeth's attention and the three eldest Bennets grew closer. Longbourn's fields were fruitful and its tenants prospered even as Mr. Bennet's interest and activity in regard to his estate remained mild and intermittent at best. Kitty and Lydia continued on much the same as always, arguing with their sisters over any attempt to superintendent their educations and begging to be allowed out at fifteen – a birthday fast approaching for Kitty. They were able to fend off this request with the reluctant support of their father, though he had become a more active landlord it was still a trial to get him to play a robust parental role. The lesson they learned in seeing the deficiency in Mary's education – her in ability to socialize – caused Elizabeth and Jane to be more pre-emptive with their youngest sisters as well. The lackadaisical style of the educations were soon corrected – Kitty was brought into the circle of the elder sisters and Lydia given a more regimented curriculum to follow for her own lessons.

The next year the yield of the orchards was even greater and the farm and the sisters continued to thrive. Mr. Collins came to visit in the spring and Lizzy brought him along to the fields to observe the planting, to the tenant farms for family visits and once again was subjected to his dancing at a local assembly. The letters between the two continued between visits and as a consequence there was a degree of intimacy when they met in person that allowed them to pick up as if in the middle of a conversation when he came to Longbourn twice each year. Elizabeth could not say she was any closer to coming to a decision regarding a courtship with Mr. Collins, but she had come to appreciate his good qualities and had become more adept at overlooking his shortcomings.

Kitty turned fifteen in October. Elizabeth suggested that Longbourn begin to host more neighborhood parties to allow her to begin to allow her to practice the socializing that would come with her come out next year. In addition, Kitty followed the same routine as Mary, as per the instruction of her otherwise indolent father, and spent several afternoons a week with her older sisters learning about the various responsibilities, they each undertook on behalf of Longbourn. From Jane she learned remedies, from Mary a course of literature and from Elizabeth the maintenance of the account ledgers. These were the activities her sisters chose for her to learn initially. They also took her along as they visited Longbourn's tenants and after several months this became the activity Kitty enjoyed the most and her elder sisters soon left her in charge of maintaining the logs of visits made and anticipated as well as what was needed among the families of Longbourn's farms.

One result of this work was the start of a school for the sons and daughters of the tenants and farmers in the area. The idea was Mary's, but each Bennet sister took to it in their own way. Lydia and Jane became the primary ambassadors for raising funds and community support. Lydia's natural confidence and Jane's sweetness made a rather effective combination and they soon persuaded all of the principal families to lend their support in some form or another. The church donated the space, and the funds were soon had to pay a salary for a teacher. Kitty and Elizabeth took charge of recruiting students. Here Elizabeth and Kitty demonstrated their effectiveness. As they served the tenants of Longbourn most closely they were able to speak with understanding to these families. However, they also were able to address concerns of the tenants of nearby estates and even some independent farmers as their issues were similar to those they handled with their own people. Mary supervised all of this – her sisters deferred to her in everything. They all enjoyed seeing their shyest sister boss people, even them, around. Mary also took the lead, alongside Mr. Cawley, the vicar, in finding a teacher.

Though most parents were eager to send their children to school Kitty and Elizabeth found some reluctant.

"What use is reading and writing to young girls who will grow up to keep house?" One of Netherfield's tenant's asked when Kitty and Elizabeth stopped by to try and enroll his three daughters, aged eight to twelve, in the school. Charles Dawson was the most prosperous farmer in the area. He leased a large section of fields for crops and had in the last decade cleared two fields for livestock. His two older sons had also acquired leases of their own in the past few years with his help, one at Longbourn and one in a neighbouring county. Elizabeth knew him to be a diligent worker and a fair man, but he, having achieved his success with very little education, did not see the value in it.

"My sisters and I have found that our ability to do sums has allowed us to keep a better eye on household accounts," Kitty offered gently. Then with a little smile she added, "Some in Meryton may not be so pleased as we also know how to negotiate for a better price with the butcher and the Millner, but our father has no complaints."

The older man smiled. Elizabeth was tempted to share the many ways her education aided the prosperity of Longbourn but knew that would likely deter and not encourage this farmer from sending his daughters to a school she championed. She only added:

"And reading has been an excellent way to keep us and our family entertained on a long winter night."

"I suppose if it does not interfere with their chores," he mused. "Of course, they would be needed during harvest."

"Of course," Elizabeth agreed, "Almost all of our children are in the same position. The school will work around the planting and harvest seasons."

In addition to soliciting funds to support the salary for the school's teacher and the upkeep and maintenance of the building the sisters also encouraged their friends and neighbours to donate books. They intended to create a small library within the school for the students. They sought books for children of all ages and their requests were met with considerable generosity. Their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner sent some books their own children had outgrown and even purchased a reading primer at a London bookstore especially for the school. The Bennets dug out all of their old books from their nursery to be part of the new collection as did the Lucases and several other of their neighbours.

One afternoon in late November Elizabeth set out in their cart with Jane and Mary at her side and Lydia and Kitty in the back with several boxes of books. They were headed to the school to unload their bounty. That day and several others were spent cleaning and unpacking, preparing the space for teacher and students. The former of whom would arrive the next day. The latter would enter the schoolhouse, a converted cottage that had once served as the parsonage, later the ladies spent several mornings and afternoons, with help from Charlotte and Maria Lucas on occasion, cleaning and preparing the cottage for its new purpose.

"Mary," Elizabeth said as they left on the final day, having completed their work. "I am so proud of you."

"Mary?" Lydia said with marked incredulity. "We have all worked quite hard!"

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth agreed. "However, this entire endeavor was Mary's idea and so I think she should get the lion's share of the praise."

"Very well," Lydia responded with a pout as she and Kitty climbed into the back of the cart. "I suppose she must, but it should be noted that without the funds Jane and I helped raise the school could not move forward as it would be without a teacher and this very handsome building would still be practically falling down. The men did very nice work. But it is true that Mary started it all and so I say bravo to you, big sister. It is going to be a wonderful school."

Mary blushed and Elizabeth laughed. Lydia had come a long way in the last year and a half, but she was still Lydia and really Elizabeth had come to appreciate her brashness as it was now tempered with some degree of restraint.

Charlotte Lucas was at Longbourn to join the Bennet family to welcome Mr. Bates, the new schoolteacher, to Hertfordshire the following day.

"We are so pleased you were able to accept the position at our new school," Elizabeth said, after the introductions were made and the party had settled in the drawing room. "I do hope you will find you like our little village."

"I am sure I will," the young man said with a smile. Though he had come directly from London to Longbourn he did not seem tired nor did he seem wary of being the centre of attention of so many ladies. He appeared quite at ease. Mr. Bates was a well-looking man of two and twenty who belonged to one of the universities and had determined to dedicate himself to the education of the poor after his ordination. The ladies knew little of him beyond his qualifications and that he came from a respectable family. They looked forward to getting to know him. Mr. Cawley would also host the young man at the parsonage as he would also serve as the older man's curate, taking on some duties of the parish to help supplement his salary and occupy his time when the school was in recess.

"In our correspondence Mr. Cawley spoke so highly of the area, the families and the school I find myself quite eager to begin my work and to begin to get to know the society," Mr. Bates said.

"Your eagerness does you credit," Jane said.

The visit lasted one half hour, ending when Mr. Bennet emerged from his library and offered to escort the young man to the parsonage. This offer was gratefully accepted after the expression of sincere thanks to the Bennet daughters whom he knew were responsible for the establishment of the school and consequently his position, which he was so eager to fulfil.

That winter seventeen students began at the Hertfordshire Village school. Mr. Bates turned out to be an excellent teacher and, more importantly to some of the ladies of the neighbourhood, an excellent dancer and conversationalist as well. Both the school and its master were considering great successes.

During his visit in March of the following year Mr. Collins, for the first time since his initial visit, pressed Elizabeth on the issue of their courtship.

Chapter 6

"Father is looking for you, Lizzy," Mary told her sister when she found her in the garden.

"I am sure he is," Elizabeth replied with a degree of petulance that was quite out of character.

"What is wrong?" Mary asked with concern.

"Mr. Collins is insisting we formalize an arrangement, and I am quite certain that after I told him I still needed more time he went to father, seeking an ally."

"But, Elizabeth, it has been nearly two years since he first made his intentions known. Is it so extraordinary that he should want some assurance from you that his sentiments are returned?"

"Mary, must you be so reasonable at this particular moment when I want so very much to throw a little temper tantrum or at the very least wallow for a time?"

"Shall I fetch Jane for you then?" Mary asked.

"I regret very much teaching you the art of teasing. And yes, please do bring Jane to me this instant!"

"You do not regret it and what is more you know that what you need right now is not Jane's kindness or even Kitty's humour. As much as I know our sisters are in general superior to me, in this moment, I feel I am the right one to offer perspective."

"Mary, you sell yourself short," Elizabeth said, inviting her sister to sit beside her on the bench. "At times I think you embody the best of all of us. You have Jane's kindness, Kitty's humour and apparently excel at teasing as well which I had thought was my purview."

"What about Lydia?" Mary asked with a smile, though she blushed at the compliments. "Do I possess any of her good qualities?"

"I am not certain, but that may be more a testament to my inability to name Lydia's merits than your having or not having them," Elizabeth answered.

"Elizabeth, that is not nice."

"No, it is not," she agreed. "It is not entirely true either. Though she hides it behind a great deal of self-indulgence, frivolousness and idleness our youngest sister is actually quite brave and loyal. And you, dear Mary are also both of those things."

"This is not the subject of our current discourse, but I do believe we should take Lydia into our circle sooner rather than later. If she is left to linger too long under Mother's sole supervision, I am afraid her lesser qualities may take over her better."

"There is the loyalty," Elizabeth declared. "And I do not disagree. It would be a mistake to wait until she is nearly sixteen. We may as well begin now. I will trust you to establish a plan and give us all our assignments. It will take some of that bravery to go to father and Lydia once you have determined the best course of action. He will not want to exert himself to make her comply and you know she will not want to comply, at least not at first. Although in fairness, he has been more involved of late."

"Indeed," Mary agreed. "I hope since seeing what a difference it has made for Kitty; Lydia may be more willing."

"Let us hope so."

"Now, we may return to the matter at hand. Tell me of your conversation with Mr. Collins," Mary asked gently.

"There is not much more to tell," Elizabeth told her sister. "We were speaking of my plans for the orchard and he was, as is his custom, offering some thoughts from Lady Catherine de Bourgh and he remarked on her impatience to see him married. It is something he has begun to mention in his letters and in one or two conversations previously. I tend to pay it no mind. However, this time he persisted."

"How so?"

"He does not like to go against the advice of his patroness, and he stressed this point."

"You are aware of how much deference he pays her," Mary pointed out. "How did you address his concern?"

"I am afraid without much compassion," Elizabeth confessed. "Had he pressed me with his own feelings or because he was in want of reassurance, I may have been more understanding. However, I will not be moved by the whims of one Lady Catherine de Bourgh. A year and half ago, Mr. Collins agreed to wait until I reached my majority, and the impatience of his patroness is not a good enough reason to change our arrangement."

"You still need time to determine if you two suit?" Mary asked.

"It is only . . . we agreed to wait until I was one and twenty," Elizabeth persisted.

"I understand that," Mary responded with an air of saintly patience. "What I am asking is do you believe you and Mr. Collins have a chance at being happy together should you accept him?"

"Now I really do want Jane," Elizabeth complained. "Such blunt questioning!"

"I do not mean to upset you. I simply want your happiness," Mary rushed to explain.

Elizabeth laid a hand on top of her sister's.

"No, Mary, I value your insight. I am merely being unreasonable. Yours is a home question and I must consider it, I suppose. It is simply that in getting to know Mr. Collins I had hoped my feelings would change. My love for my home and you, my family, compels me to accept him. In the end I know this is what I must do, but I had hoped that I would come to feel more for him, but I have not. I think I must admit that this is unlikely to change. It is not that he is an unkind man, an intemperate man or an immoral man. He is not a drunkard or a spendthrift. Charlotte would say, has said, that his disposition is such that we should have no quarrels should we marry. Father insists I could lead him quite easily if I but put my mind to it. Mary, what I put my mind to was finding a way to like this man enough to marry him for the sake of my family and my home and now that I am at the point where I must commit to him I find myself questioning whether I can and then in the next instance I am angry at myself for being so selfish. There is no other way, Mary. Is it wrong that I simply want to wait until the last possible moment to commit to the course that I set for myself?

"Oh, Elizabeth of course not." Mary embraced her sister and the two stayed that way for several minutes. Elizabeth silently weeping and Mary holding her.

Chapter 7

Due primarily to the intervention of Jane Elizabeth managed to get through the rest of Mr. Collins's visit without becoming engaged. However, she knew her reprieve would last only until his next visit in the fall. Not one to focus on those things that she could not alter and did not bring her happiness, Elizabeth threw herself into tasks where she knew could change things for the better.

As per her conversation with Mary, Lydia's education was soon brought under the purview of her older sisters. After she showed a particular aptitude for drawing Elizabeth talked their father into allowing her to go to London to stay with the Gardiners for a month to study under a master. Her eye for beauty was also put to use in Longbourn's flower gardens which Lydia was given charge of once her talent and proclivity were discovered. In the years to come Longbourn would become famous for its hybrid roses, particularly fragrant lilacs and beautiful peonies. Indeed, each Bennet bride's bouquet, picked from Lydia's gardens as they came to be known, were the envy of all who saw them. But that would come much later. Lydia's diligence at her drawing and gardening worked a miraculous transformation not only on her canvasses and flower beds but also on her character. It seemed all her vibrant and restless disposition needed to thrive was to be shown she could succeed and contribute like her sisters, but in her own way. Even her contributions to the sister's weekly book discussions grew in substance over time as did her willingness to participate in their charitable work throughout the parish – the work overseen primarily by Mary.

Chapter 8

"The south field is ready to be harvested as well as the first of the apple trees," Elizabeth told her father. They were at the end of what Elizabeth called their sacred time. She was sure Mr. Collins would not approve. Once Mr. Bennet began to give himself over to estate work once again, Elizabeth had successfully cornered her father with increasing frequency and for longer periods of times to discuss estate matters and get his advice or approval to resolve disputes she or her sisters discovered as they visited tenants or attended to other matters which came under their respective purviews. Finally, Mr. Bennet grew tired of being ambushed by his most persistent daughter. He decreed that she could discuss the estate with him, in his study, only on afternoons from three to four, excepting Sundays and Thursdays. Sundays, a suddenly religious Mr. Bennet claimed, must be reserved for the Lord and Thursdays he and several gentlemen of the neighbourhood had a standing arrangement to meet at the local inn for cards. Elizabeth agreed to this scheme with an alacrity that should have alarmed the idle Mr. Bennet. Very soon she had filled every moment he had allocated with the business of the estate. In truth, he came to look forward to the time. He marveled at the capabilities of his daughter and while still thankful that everything was done with little trouble to himself, he had begun to feel more invested than ever before.

"The time of year dictates these things, my dear. Why are you bringing it to my attention?" He asked. Elizabeth was always very economical with the time he allotted her and, he knew, solved a myriad of problems and made many decisions on her own without ever talking to him about them at all. It perhaps should have bothered him. At first, he allowed it because it was easier, now he did so because her decisions were sound and her actions a constant source of pride. She had transformed Longbourn and he was grateful it had happened soon enough for him to mend his own ways. He now spent time with each daughter at least once a week to superintend their education and direct it as needed. He was surprised Jane had wanted to participate in this particular attention, but she was most eager to be guided and he delighted in recommending books and tasks that suited her. Thanks to the increased revenue and household economies over the past few years Jane, Elizabeth and Mary had modest dowries, invested and increasing in value, and he hoped to be able to do the same for his other girls as they came of age. Some of the extra funds were spent on masters. His daughters alerted him to the need or desire to be schooled in a certain subject or activity and he would see to it. This also he came to appreciate and even enjoy as his daughters learned French and German (though only Elizabeth and Mary truly excelled at them), drawing (at this Lydia was superior to her sisters and Elizabeth's skill was essentially non-existent) and music (each sister chose an instrument to learn and had voice lessons besides).

"Because we the yield is far greater than in years past due to the additional trees being ready and the acquisition of the adjoining land which nearly doubled the size of the south and west fields," she explained. "Therefore, we need extra hands."

"This I am used to, being applied to for extra funds for spending," her father teased.

"Yes, but I am not interested in a new bonnet or a length of muslin," she rejoined. "I would like you to approve the expenditure for five new hands for the harvest season not only for the orchards and these fields but throughout. I also believe we could use the help in the spring for planting. However, in order to prevent the young men from seeking work elsewhere I believe we would need to keep them on in the meantime."

"The curse of the factories," Mr. Bennet said. "This is quite an expenditure. Though I do understand your reasoning. I imagine we could make do with three hands?"

"It will be more work for everyone, but I suppose we could."

"I will leave it to you to speak with Carson," he said referring to the farm manager who had run the fields and orchards for the past two years.

"Thank you, father," Elizabeth with a smile and quick kiss to his forehead. She rose to leave.

"Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said just as she opened the door. She turned.

"You only ever wanted three extra hands did you not?"

"Perhaps," was the mischievous reply.

Before Elizabeth could step out of the study, they heard the voice of Mrs. Phillips.

"Thank you, Hill. I have come to see my brother, Mr. Bennet! I have such news, such incredible news to share with him."

"You can have five hands if you tell her I am with Carson in the fields," Mr. Bennet pleaded.

"You were right," she responded with a fond smile and a sly wink. "Three is sufficient." Then turning, she called down the hallway, "Aunt so good to see you. I am afraid I am wanted elsewhere but my father is in his study awaiting your news."

Moments later Mrs. Phillips entered the room. Elizabeth stepped back to allow her in and then followed. Although her aunt often deemed things news that hardly deserved the title, she was curious enough to listen for a moment at least to decide.

"Well, Mrs. Phillips you have come all this way. What news have you to tell us?"

"Netherfield Park is let at last. Mrs. Long just told me." After a moment of silence, she impatiently added, "do you want to know who has taken it?"

"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

"Why, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of the week."

"What is his name?"

"Bingley."

"Is he married or single?"

Elizabeth laughed. Of course, he was single. Mrs. Phillips would not be this excited, would not have come to Longbourn to share the news about a married man coming into the neighbourhood.

"Oh single, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls." Though she was more obsessed with marrying them off than Elizabeth would have liked, she knew her aunt loved herself and her sisters as if they were her own and moreover, she saw this particular task, finding suitors, as one her sister, their departed mother, would have relished and so felt she must fill the gap. These reminders helped keep Elizabeth from being entirely exasperated with her aunt's preoccupation with marrying her sisters off – she saw Elizabeth as happily settled ever since Mr. Collins came to Hertfordshire years ago.

"I see you mean for him to marry one of them," Mr. Bennet observed with an indulgent smile.

"Yes, indeed," replied his siter-in-law, pleased he did not sport with her by failing to come to the point directly. "I think it very likely he will fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."

Having become much more attentive to his duties as a landlord, father and neighbour over the last few years

Mr. Bennet intended to do so even before she mentioned it, but that did not mean that he could not amuse himself at her expense for a few moments. He was not entirely reformed after all.

"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or better yet send them by themselves, which perhaps will be better still, for you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you best of the party."

Mrs. Phillips blushed.

"I thank you for the compliment, Sir, but I will carry my point," she said with firmness.

"I will visit Mr. Bingley as soon as he comes," Mr. Bennet agreed, a sudden, sad smile marring his features.

It was some weeks later when Mr. Bennet left Longbourn for the purpose of accomplishing the task set before him by his Lady. His entire family awaited his return. When he walked into the room he was thus accosted:

"Is he handsome, father?" This was Lydia.

"I do not think I am at all qualified to answer that."

"How old is he?" Kitty.

"We did not discuss our respective ages specifically, but I would venture to guess he is between the ages of twenty and forty."

"Did you notice an instrument?" Mary.

"We met in a parlour, but I will confess that I was curious enough to peak though the open doors when he greeted me in the foyer. I did not; however, see a pianoforte anywhere."

"What was he like?" Jane.

"He was quite agreeable."

"Does he really have five thousand a year?" Lydia.

"It may shock you all to know but I did not ask him to produce proof of his income so as to access his merits as a potential suitor for my, as yet unknown to him, daughters."

They all laughed at this. None were surprised at his evasive answers, but some more gentle questioning did produce results. Mr. Bennet confessed he thought they would find him quite handsome and went so far as to offer some description – brown hair and eyes, tall, but not too tall with a broad smile that he employed quite often and was likely about five and twenty years old. That although he saw not instrument Mr. Bingley had mentioned that both of his sisters, who would be joining him soon, played he imagined there was one to be found in the home. That he enjoyed their conversation, inconsequential though it was, and therefore assumed the gentleman was likely going to be a good neighbour whom they would all enjoy meeting. Though he had to confess he actually did have no idea as to his actual income he saved his best piece of news for last.

"I informed him of next month's assembly, and he assured me he would be in attendance."

This was, of course, met with universal approval. Even Lydia, who would be unable to attend as she was not yet out, shared in her sisters' excitement. Shortly thereafter Lydia and Kitty set off for Lucas Lodge to share the news with their friend Maria. Afterwards Mary and Jane excused themselves as they had an appointment with the vicar and Mr. Bates on some matter that had arisen with regard to the school.

When they were alone Mr. Bennet told Lizzy:

"I am afraid I may have bored Mr. Bingley with my talk of Longbourn."

"That is not like you," Lizzy observed. "To be either boring or too focused on our home."

The latter was not entirely true of late but had been true for so much of her life Elizabeth might be forgiven an instinctive response.

"Exactly, but there I was waxing poetic about orchards, flocks and fields. I told him of the changes we made to the four-field crop rotation system and even shared a little about our latest plough. I gave you all the credit of course."

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled with surprised pleasure. Her father's evident interest in Longbourn and his pride in her were clear in his short recitation regarding his visit and she could not help but be pleased with both.

Chapter 9

Several days later Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit and was ushered directly into that gentleman's study without delay, upon arrival. Although always eager to further all of his acquaintances, Mr. Bingley was slightly disappointed at this bit of efficiency as he had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the Bennet ladies of whose beauty he had heard much. In this his desires aligned quite closely with these very ladies and as a result when he was escorted from the study the rarely used front parlour, through which the gentlemen were required to traverse was full.

Much to their delight both Mrs. Phillips and Lady Lucas were visiting at the time of this eagerly anticipated neighbor's visit. Through their machinations Mr. Bingley did not go away without meeting at least some of the famed Bennet beauties.

"Mr. Bennet, we did not realize you had company," Lady Lucas exclaimed, as the gentleman entered.

"Of course, you did not." Was the sardonic reply

"Mr. Bingley, may I present my daughters my neighbor Lady Lucas. I believe her husband Sir William has called on you. This is Mrs. Phillips, the sister of my late wife and these," he swept his hands toward the sofa," are my daughters. Miss Mary Bennet and Miss Catherine Bennet. Elizabeth, my eldest, is also from home. And this is Miss Jane Bennet, my ward, the daughter of a distant cousin, but who is as a daughter to me and sister to my girls."

"I am so pleased to meet all of you," Mr. Bingley said with a broad smile for all of them and a long look for Jane in particular. "I look forward to meeting the rest of your family. I have heard much of Miss Elizabeth in particular." With this he looked to Mr. Bennet.

"I am afraid I bored Mr. Bingley during our first meeting with talk of our latest drainage project," he explained to his wife. "That is actually where our Lizzy is right now. Supervising the installation of the drainage system in our west fields – the ones that border your newly leased land."

"Wonderful," Bingley responded before Mrs. Bennet cut in.

"Mr. Bennet, how you do go on. I am certain Mr. Bingley is not interested in drainage or Lizzy's . . . unorthodox interest in it." Her sharp look at her brother-in-law was lost on their guest who assured her that he was quite delighted to hear all about Longbourn's fields and all of its daughters.

"I was thankful Mr. Bennet was willing to answer my, likely, ignorant questions. I hope to learn more about what is involved in owning an estate and I would be grateful for any guidance he can offer." Mr. Bennet assured Mr. Bingley of his willingness to be of service. "Excellent. I have a great friend who has graciously offered his assistance as well. I look forward to introducing you. I am off to London to fetch him and my family imminently."

Mrs. Phillips and Lady Lucas, who each had hoped to invite Mr. Bingley to dinner in the next day or so was disappointed to learn of this trip. However, this loss was mitigated by his plan to return in time for the upcoming assembly. After some discussion of his sisters and friend, who would return with him from London, the matrons deftly brought the conversation back to a topic of far greater interest to them.

"I would be delighted to attend," he assured all those present, regarding the upcoming assembly. "In fact, if I might be so bold, Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of dancing the second with me?"

"I would be happy to, Mr. Bingley," Jane agreed with a shy smile.

Mr. Bingley then secured sets from both Mary and Kitty. His visit ended shortly thereafter with promises of being open to any and all invitations once he was settled.

That evening at dinner the rest of the family shared the details of the visit with Lydia and Lizzy who were both sorry to have missed it. The family diner also included, as it often did, the Phillips and so in Mr. Phillips the ladies had another, not quite as eager, but still very interested, listener to the tales regarding their guest.

"I have never regretted my lessons," Lydia said with a laugh. "But if he is as handsome as you say I should almost be sorry I was there and not here."

'You know we do not believe you. You went on for a full quarter of an hour about all you learned about shading before we could get in a word about Mr. Bingley. We all know your lessons with Mrs. Benoit are your favourite part of the week – you even agreed to a reduction in your pin money to increase your time with her," Kitty pointed out.

"I did not know that," Elizabeth said with a nod of support. "That is a very mature decision."

Lydia beamed at her sister's approval.

"Yes, yes, we are all quite proud of Lydia," Mrs. Phillips said, clearly eager to return to the discussion of Mr. Bingley.

"We are quite proud of all you girls, you each of you are quite remarkable." Mr. Phillips added before the conversation could turn back to Mr. Bingley, as he knew it would. Mr. Bennet nodded his agreement and the girls all smiled. Though used to their uncle's kind words, they each still held each pronouncement close to their hearts.

"We must not waste any one of you. Mr. Bingley is a unique opportunity. I do think he showed a particular interest in you, Jane." Mrs. Phillips broke the spell.

The girls laughed – this was the usual way for their aunt and uncle. One sentimental and one practical.

"Aunt," Jane said, "We merely exchanged pleasantries and spoke briefly of his family. I hardly think a preference is possible at this point. Let us simply enjoy having a new family in the neighbourhood and get to know the Netherfield party without any expectations."

"Of course, you are right, Jane. I will not presume anything, but I may, of course, harbour my own little hopes."

"Hope away, Annie," Mr. Bennet said with an indulgent smile. "I for one think Mr. Bingley would make our Jane an ideal husband."

"Father!" Jane objected.

Elizabeth chose that moment to tell the others about something that happened on the orchards that morning. It involved a stray dog two farmhands and Elizabeth up a tree. It was an amusing tale and she was a gifted storyteller. That led to Mrs. Phillips telling them of a time she and their mother ate so many apples they were sick for days. Mr. Bennet followed this with a story of himself falling from a roof- he may have used an apple tree to get there and finally Lydia brought forth a picture she had been working on – Longbourn's orchards a sunset. It was unfinished but they all could see how beautiful it would be. There was barely time for the party to express their enthusiasm for the work and its potential before the carriage was announced. As she did every time the Phillips' dined with them Elizabeth had ordered Longbourn's conveyance to be made ready and brought round at eight o-clock to be sure her uncle had time for his port and reading routine before falling asleep at nine. She knew he needed this early bedtime as he always rose by six.

"Is our father correct?" Elizabeth asked. She and her sisters sat on the two beds in the bedroom she shared with Jane.

"Correct about what?" Kitty asked.

"Is our new neighbour to be Jane's husband?"

"This is a conspiracy!" Jane lamented while tossing a pillow at Elizabeth.

Though the projectile hit its target it did not accomplish its task. The younger Miss Bennets reported all the details of the visit which supported the premise of Jane's imminent attachment. It was after much laughter and several more pillows employed as weapons that they separated for bed.

Chapter 10

The teasing of the Bennet sisters was born out when upon entering the assembly rooms Mr. Bingley brought his party almost immediately to the Bennet family and Phillips families who were gathered by the musicians.

"Mr. Bingley, you do us great honour, sir," Mrs. Phillips, said once he had greeted her and her husband and expressed his wish introducing all of them to his party. "I am afraid Mr. Bennet is at Longbourn with Miss Lydia, and once again Miss Elizabeth is not here. I believe she is somewhere about the room with her good friend Charlotte Lucas. I promise to make that introduction as soon as may be. You will find out soon enough Elizabeth is quite hard to pin down."

"I can imagine," he responded with affability. "I hope to make her acquaintance over the course of the evening, but in the meantime please allow me to introduce the rest of my party. May I present my sister and her husband Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, my sister, Miss Bingley, and my good friend, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire."

Curtsies and bows were exchanged and very soon Mr. Bingley excused himself and Miss Bennet for their dance as the strains of the strings preparing for the next set could be heard over the din of the crowded room. Though Mr. and Mrs. Phillips then tried to engage Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley in some conversation about their initial impressions of Hertfordshire they were hardly amendable and soon drifted away with their husband and friend.

Elizabeth had danced the first with her good friend John Lucas who was the younger brother of her other good friend Charlotte with whom she now sat. Due to the scarcity of gentlemen both ladies were obliged to sit out this second set, but neither minded as their respective obligations had kept them so busy the previous week that they had not seen each other at all. As a consequence, they had much to say.

"Lizzy, you really must make yourself more available," Charlotte berated her friend, half in earnest, half in jest. "These past few years from harvest season though to Twelfth Night I hardly see you at all."

"That is an exaggeration," Elizabeth protested, but then admitted, "there does always seem to be so much to do. Once the harvest is through, we begin preparing the fields for the winter, putting up the fodder, fixing and updating the buildings and barns for the winter and of course there are the tenant gifts and baskets for St Nicholas Day and . . . I suppose I see what you mean. But this year we have hired more help and Papa continues to involve himself more and more. It may be that I will have more time for socializing than in years' past."

They laughed and observed the dancers in silence for a few moments. Charlotte then excused herself to attend her younger sister who had begun to enjoy herself a little too loudly.

A short distance away two other friends began a conversation of a different kind.

Bingley had come from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend to join it.

"Come, Darcy, I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

Darcy regarded his friend with curiosity and exasperation.

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."

"I would not be so fastidious as you are," Bingley rejoined, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening, and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," Mr. Darcy insisted, with a glance at Miss Bennet who had moved to speak with Elizabeth.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there with her now is another young lady who is very pretty, and I dare say, very agreeable. Do let my partner introduce you."

"Which do you mean?" Turning around he looked and saw Elizabeth. After catching her eye, he quickly looked away and coldly responded to his friend, "she is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles; however, if you could persuade Miss Bennet, when you have finished the dance, to introduce me to her sister, Miss Elizabeth, I would be much obliged."

"Indeed, I know it is your wish to meet that young lady," Bingley replied, "you have spoken of little else since I mentioned her to you. I am only sorry I have yet to meet her or I could make the introduction myself. I have no doubt of her being at least one young lady you might approve of hereabouts."

"As I am here to assist you in learning how to run your own estate and we have been told by more than one neighbour that Miss Elizabeth has the most recent and most intimate knowledge of your tenants and the adjoining fields she seems a necessary acquaintance. And I confess I do wish to determine whether she deserves the praise that has been lavished on her by her father and the other gentlemen you spoke with. It is quite unusual for a lady to be so involved in the maintenance of an estate, especially one who is so young and even more for others to approve of such an activity. It is likely the praise has exaggerated her knowledge and abilities, but I will judge for myself." This was said with such an air of haughty curiosity that not even Mr. Bingley who had enjoyed an intimate friendship with Mr. Darcy for several years could decide if his friend wanted to meet the young lady to commend or censure her. However, it was a ball and so he chose to leave his friend to his musings and took himself off to once again claim his bewitching partner.

As it happened the subject of the gentlemen's discourse heard it in its entirety. Elizabeth had been amused at Mr. Bingley's attempt to persuade his friend to dance and then embarrassed when she found herself an object of the conversation. As it turned out this range of emotion was far from the last or greatest, she experienced as their discussion progressed. She was indignant at Mr. Darcy's rude dismissal of her both her looks and her prospects – did he not understand how scarce gentlemen were at this particular ball? Her offended dignity gave way to reluctant amusement as she heard him request an introduction to the very woman he had just scorned. She could not help but feel flattered that a stranger would desire her acquaintance based upon a general report of her worthiness. Then his assessment of the value of her neighbours' opinions and the remote possibility that she was in fact what she was reported to be sunk him to the lowest depths he had yet enjoyed in her own estimation. With a smile of grim delight Elizabeth rose, walked directly past a frowning Mr. Darcy, and sought out her aunt for a task she knew that lady would relish.

After the next set Mrs. Phillips found the still frowning man and performed the introduction her niece had requested. It had been somewhat of a surprise that Elizabeth wanted to meet the gentleman, but never one to question an opportunity, she agreed with eagerness and without inquiry.

"Mr. Darcy, may I present to you my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth dropped a very proper curtsy and wore a very innocent smile. She enjoyed the look of confusion on her companion's face, he clearly recognized her as the woman not handsome enough to tempt nor worthy enough to lend consequence.

"Miss Elizabeth."

"I hope you are in a humour to enjoy the evening and that you do not find yourself slighted in any way because you are a newcomer," she said, not bothering to hide the delight she felt at nearly calling him out.

His gasp of surprise at hearing his words echoed back to him as he realized he had been overheard gave Elizabeth a small thrill of satisfaction. She nodded her head and excused herself as her next dance partner came to claim her.

"John, I have never been so thankful to see you in my life," she laughed as Charlotte's brother led her to join the other couples lining up on the dance floor.

"I am at once flattered and insulted," he responded as they began the steps that parted them. When next they met, he inquired, "does your relief at my timely arrival have to do with the dour gentleman to whom you had just been introduced?"

"Indeed. Mr. Darcy and I have just met, but have already decided we find each other wanting," Elizabeth told him. She then explained what she had overheard and how she had tacitly reprimanded him. John was not at all surprised, having grown up with Elizabeth, he was quite familiar with her disposition. They had been best friends, he was only one year older, until their mothers decided it not quite right for a young lady and gentleman to spend so much time together. John was thankful that since returning last year from school, the independence they both enjoyed in their respective homes allowed them to return to some of their former intimacy.

When the movements of the dance next brought them together John revealed to Elizabeth that though initially pronounced a fine figure of a man and admired by the whole assembly the general tide of opinion had shifted against Mr. Darcy as he was discovered to be proud, above his company and above being pleased.

"Well, our neighbors can be quite perceptive," she laughed. "I still have not met the rest of the party. What is general impression of them?" Elizabeth had seen Jane dance with Mr. Bingley and watched them both smile their way through. He seemed to be as agreeable as her father had told them and he was quite handsome. She had seen little of his sisters or Mr. Hurst who she understood was husband to one of them.

"The taller one is Miss Bingley; she is to keep house for her brother. The other is married to the gentleman you have yet to insult, a Mr. Hurst. After the obligatory dances with the ladies, he took himself off to the card room where he promptly fell asleep on a sofa. It appears like your Mr. Darcy, the sisters are also too important for our little assembly," John told her. "They have declined to be introduced to anyone and so have danced with none beyond their party, except of course my father who they could not avoid. I do not think we have been found worthy of them."

"Please do not call him my Mr. Darcy," she protested, "and do not be so downcast, John, they are to be here for some time I am sure you will have an opportunity to make your case to Miss Bingley."

"I beg your pardon."

"She is a handsome woman who I have no doubt possesses a handsome dowry," Elizabeth teased as he escorted her to the side of the room. "Are you not now of an age when you must consider these things?"

"Are we not both of an age where we are meant to be considering such things," he countered.

Before Elizabeth could respond someone interrupted.

"Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?" Mr. Darcy stood before her, his face and voice betraying no emotion.

Elizabeth looked to Mr. Lucas, sure her friend would rescue her. No one present would think it odd if they stood up together again. It was not uncommon for them to partner for several sets. He did not; however, inform their new neighbour that he had already claimed the very dance he was seeking and when Elizabeth opened her mouth to do just that he smiled at her knowingly and said, "I am glad you have tempted someone Lizzy as you know I have promised this dance to Mary."

Knowing he had done no such thing Elizabeth scowled at her friend before turning back to Mr. Darcy, left with little choice, she said, "very well."

Even as she answered, the music resumed, indicating the set was beginning. Mr. Darcy held out his hand. Elizabeth placed hers in it and allowed herself to be led onto the floor, throwing one final glare at Mr. Lucas who was now openly laughing and, it should be noted, not seeking out Mary Bennet.

Chapter 11

If Elizabeth had formed some idea that Mr. Darcy asked her to dance in order to apologize, a quarter of an hour of silence thoroughly disabused her of this notion. As they formed lines for the second set, she vacillated between allowing the silence to continue or speaking so as to provoke her partner. In the end that latter impulse won out.

"Mr. Darcy, I believe we must have some conversation."

"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?" he asked.

"I do not normally require a rule to spark conversation, but perhaps in this case it would be best," she responded with an arch smile. "The weather was remarkably fine today, was it not?"

"Indeed, I found it so."

When no additional remark or question was forthcoming, she persisted.

"Now that I have commented on the weather you are to remark on something equally innocuous, Mr. Darcy."

"The rules, yes. Is it too substantive to compliment you on your dancing?"

"A compliment, Mr. Darcy? I am afraid that does violate the established rules of our brief but meaningful acquaintance, for though we have hardly known each other an hour it is clear we are not destined to be the complimenting kind of acquaintances."

"You refer to the conversation you overheard between myself and Mr. Bingley?"

Elizabeth heard in this response his emphasis on the word overheard and was fairly certain he was trying to be polite when what he wanted to say was that she had eavesdropped on their conversation. She could not remember ever taking so thorough a dislike to someone so quickly in all her nineteen years.

"I refer only to the fact that my inadvertent," here she employed her own emphasis and in a way that left no room for doubt about her intention, "knowledge of both your aversion to my person and doubts as to my prospects as well as your apparent desire to become acquainted with me due to my reputation outside of a ballroom. Pray tell, what am I to do with this ill-gotten information?"

The dance ended, but Mr. Darcy seemed determined to answer Elizabeth's question as he escorted her not back to Mr. Lucas, who waited expectantly, nor to her sister who stood with Mr. Bingley by the refreshments, but to the opposite side of the room. When they arrived in a sparsely populated corner, he turned to her.

"I am pleased you have acknowledged that your information was acquired in a less than acceptable manner," he began and though Elizabeth made to interrupt him after this entirely inaccurate statement he pressed on, "still it was ungentlemanly of me to speak so of a lady."

Later when Elizabeth told the story of their dance to Jane, she swore that if she had heard an ounce of actual contrition in Mr. Darcy's voice she would not have reacted as she did. She did not, however, hear any kind of remorse and so she responded accordingly.

"I thank you for that small admission, sir, and I will venture to say in return that you need not concern yourself that I will anticipate any gentlemanly behaviour in the future. I believe I understand you and have adjusted my expectations accordingly."

She enjoyed the look of confusion and anger on her companion's face for but a moment before turning and leaving him alone with whatever thoughts her words may have incited.

"You look entirely too pleased with yourself," John Lucas said when she joined him.

"I suppose I am," Elizabeth conceded, but still annoyed with him for leaving her with Mr. Darcy in the first place she did not enlighten him as to the cause. "How was your dance with Mary?"

"I could not seem to find her," he said with a smile and absolutely no shame. "Instead, I enjoyed watching your dance with the illustrious Mr. Darcy. I believe you exchanged ten words?"

"If we did it was ten too many."

"Oh no, as bad as all that?" He teased.

"Worse," she insisted. They were soon joined by Jane and Kitty.

"John you must go ask a young lady to dance," Kitty said, taking a seat. There is a scarcity of gentlemen and you must do your duty.

"As we know Mr. Darcy will not," Elizabeth put in.

"Elizabeth, that is unkind," Jane admonished. "He has partnered with the only ladies with whom he is well acquainted and you. Perhaps he is shy and not comfortable asking those he does not know well."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth grudgingly conceded. John went in search of a partner for the next set and Jane and Elizabeth took seats on either side of Kitty.

"You know if you invited your betrothed to Longbourn more often we would have another gentleman to help even out our numbers," Kitty said to Elizabeth with no hint of humour.

"First, he is not my betrothed and you know that. Second, I do not think the ladies of Hertfordshire would thank me for introducing such an inept dancer into our midst as Mr. Collins. Do not argue, Jane," Elizabeth said, as she saw her sister about to interject some kindness about their cousin.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Bingley stood before them. The ladies stood. "I apologize for interrupting, but I have just learned that this lovely lady is your elusive sister, and I came with my friend to request an introduction. Mr. Darcy stood behind Mr. Bingley looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Jane greeted Mr. Bingley with a warm smile and performed the introductions.

"Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy may I present my sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Two bows and one curtsey later Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy with a tilted head and a small smile.

"Jane, Mr. Bingley did you not see Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy danced the last together?" Kitty asked. Of course, Jane had known, she had been partnered with a neighbour during the dance Elizabeth shared with Darcy, but she thought there was no harm in performing an introduction when neither party seemed eager to claim the prior acquaintance.

"Splendid," Mr. Bingley said. "Darcy has been most eager to meet you. I imagine you two will never run out of things to talk about. We already knew about your involvement in the running of your father's estate, but Miss Bennet also tells me you are a great reader. Darcy reads more than anyone I know." He smiled between them as if anticipating a congenial conversation or in-depth discussion at that very moment.

Mr. Bingley seemed so genuinely pleased and eager Elizabeth was inclined to let matters rest with Mr. Darcy until she saw that gentleman's face – a mix of haughty disdain and disinterest.

"I admire your optimism, Mr. Bingley," she said cheerily. "However, I do believe that, after learning Mr. Darcy's true opinion of me before we even met, it is unlikely we will be fast friends."

When Mr. Bingley looked confused Kitty rushed to explain.

"I am afraid Lizzy overheard your conversation about her with Mr. Darcy."

"How do you know that?" Elizabeth asked, momentarily forgetting the two gentlemen.

"Oh, John Lucas has been having great fun telling the story," Kitty explained, much to Elizabeth's horror. She had not intended for the entirety of the assembly to learn of what she heard, but she should have known better. John was as much of a gossip as his father and unless she specifically told him to keep something in confidence, he would be eager to share it with any and everyone.

Darcy seemed to be about to contribute something when Bingley laughed. This was not at all the reaction Elizabeth had been expecting.

"Miss Elizabeth, of course you were not meant to hear that exchange and both Darcy and I owe you our humblest apologies," at the words humble and apology Elizabeth raised a brow at Mr. Darcy as if to ask if he would be participating in this forthcoming display of remorse and humility. His eyes, which she found already resting on herself, darted away. "I can understand how you would have been offended, but please know Darcy meant not a word of it."

"I am afraid I don't understand," Elizabeth said.

"You see I tend to make quite a nuisance of myself at balls, soirees, dinners – anywhere Darcy and I find ourselves among strangers or new acquaintances. I am always eager for him to meet new people and he is always eager not to. It has become something of a game. He has found that I will not desist in harassing him until he relents, which he rarely does, or he says something so offensive that I must quit the field."

Kitty laughed while Jane seemed torn between relief at having an explanation for the insult to her sister and horror at such a game between friends.

"In the end, it is no excuse. We should not speak so even if we mean nothing by it. I apologize for the offense you must justifiably be feeling," Bingley said with a sincerity Elizabeth did not doubt. Jane beamed an approving smile at him and as his eyes seemed to continually stray back to her, he caught it before she looked away. Bingley then looked to his friend clearly expecting a similar recitation. Elizabeth looked at him trying to suppress a smile of triumphant expectation.

"Indeed, I once again offer my apologies," Mr. Darcy said with a formal bow. It was likely only Elizabeth who heard that the emphasis was placed not on the word apologies but the word again. Mr. Darcy resented being called to publicly repent for an action she suspected he did not regret at all.

"He may not sound it, but I assure you he is sincere," Bingley said with a smile. Then extending a hand to Kitty said, "Miss Catherine I believe we are engaged for the next set?"

"Indeed, Mr. Bingley."

Although Mr. Darcy looked like he meant to say something to one or both of the remaining Bennet sisters he did not get the chance.

"Lizzy, Jane, which one of you will delight me for the next half an hour by taking the floor with me?" he asked, then turning said, "Mr. Darcy, my apologies I did not see you there."

It was a fairly unbelievable statement. Between Mr. Darcy's imposing height, his status as a newcomer and general proximity it was unlikely he had gone unnoticed.

"I would be happy to," Jane agreed with alacrity and the two absconded before Elizabeth could protest. She had no intention of being in the company of Mr. Darcy once again.

"You will excuse me," with a nod and a curtsy she too was gone, leaving Mr. Darcy the way he seemed to like best, alone.

Chapter 12

Two weeks later Mr. Darcy still wanted to reconcile the Elizabeth Bennet he had been told of and the one who insulted and then pointedly ignored him upon their first meeting. Elizabeth still wanted to have nothing at all to do with the arrogant newcomer. She was able to avoid him at the Watson's dinner, which took place the week of the assembly. The Netherfield party was present, but other than Mr. Bingley, seemed disinterested in mingling among the guests and kept almost entirely to themselves. This suited Elizabeth as she intended to have as little to do with Mr. Darcy as possible. Although she did notice him standing nearby several times throughout the evening when she was conversing with friends and neighbours. She watched his friend's obvious preference for Jane with pleasure which continued at their next meeting – a card party at Haye Park. Elizabeth was able to spend an entire evening in the same room as the haughty Mr. Darcy without having to converse beyond a frosty greeting. Here again though he seemed to be hovering about each circle of friends she joined. Charlotte even remarked on it.

As she sat in Mrs. Long's drawing room sipping watered down tea and counting the minutes until she could politely excuse herself so that she could return to the orchard where Longbourn's newest workers laboured, Elizabeth's Darcy related luck seemed to run out. This was certainly connected to the antics of John Lucas who had been absent from the previous two engagements.

"I simply do not believe you," Elizabeth told her friend. "You would not have done such a thing."

"I assure you I did," John rejoined with a smile. "That is to say I was part of a very large group that took part in the scheme."

"Simply scandalous," she declared. "Your letters to Charlotte contained not a hint of such aberrant behaviour. They were quite boring at times. How very entertained we would have been had you told us you were engaging in pranks with your fellow students that could landed you in Newgate."

"I hardly think publishing a few letters in a school newspaper warrants such a harsh punishment."

"Letters that were of a private nature," Elizabeth admonished, then in a lowered voice added, "that were not from his wife."

John laughed at both her whispered words and her cautious amusement at his semi-scandalous story.

"I assure you that particular adventure was mild compared to others . . ." here he paused when he saw Elizabeth's shocked expression," committed by friends of mine."

"Friends of yours of course," she smiled knowingly.

"Mr. Darcy you must assist me," John raised his voice slightly to address the gentleman hovering just behind Elizabeth.

Looking for a moment like a man caught, Darcy quickly recovered himself and stepped closer to Elizabeth and John.

"How may I be of service, Mr. Lucas?" he asked formally.

"You must explain to Lizzy, Miss Elizabeth, that pranks and all sorts of mischief are commonplace at University, and I was not so very bad for partaking on occasion."

Darcy looked between the two, curiosity evident, before replying, "it is true that many students take part in troublemaking with varying amounts of consequences. I cannot say whether Mr. Lucas should be judged for his participation. However, in my view, the pervasiveness of such activities does not have a bearing on their morality."

"Come now, Mr. Darcy, I sought an ally and you come as judge and jury," John complained.

"If you wanted absolution for your mischief-making you chose the wrong confederate," Elizabeth told him sternly. "I do not imagine Mr. Darcy took part in such larks during his time at University."

"You know me so well, Miss Elizabeth?" he challenged.

"I have seen and heard enough to form a general impression."

"That impression has led you to assume I did not participate in pranks or the like as a student?" he asked.

"It has," she confirmed. "Am I wrong?" Her tone and smile indicated she had full confidence in the veracity of her assertion.

"You are not. Unfortunately, I observed too often the adverse consequences of some of these activities and therefore not only chose not to take part but to attempt to quell them at times. I suppose that makes me less interesting."

"Not necessarily," Elizabeth conceded.

"No, indeed, Darcy," John said. "I agree that, at times, some fellows could get out of hand. I hope I was never one of those. My pranks were never cruel."

The two men shared a look that Elizabeth did not fully understand. Then changing the subject entirely, John said:

"I understand you and Lizzy have something in common, Mr. Darcy."

"I cannot imagine what," Elizabeth said.

"You both are keen observers of character."

Elizabeth shot a look of rebuke at her friend before remarking, "I am not certain this is an accurate description of myself. Whether or not it describes Mr. Darcy I, of course, cannot say."

"Lizzy, come now. You are known throughout the neighbourhood for your character sketches," John said. "Although I did love my sister's letters for their own sake, I must confess that when she included your depictions of our friends and acquaintances, I was always truly delighted."

"Indeed, we would often make a game of it," Elizabeth told him with a smile. "She would record my observations about a particular lady or gentleman and then tell me when you responded if you were able to guess their identity."

"And I always got it right," his smile was smug. "As I said you are a keen observer of character."

"Not always," she responded, then turning to Darcy, "and yourself? Is Mr. Lucas correct, are you one who observes and sketches the character of those around you?"

"He has certainly been observing you closely since his arrival," John said with a look of innocence that Elizabeth knew was entirely feigned.

"John, that is enough," she said, noting the blush that swept up Mr. Darcy's cheeks even as a look of haughty affront descended on his face. "Go impose yourself on my younger sisters." When John opened his mouth to voice what she was sure would be either an objection or another mischievous comment she added, "now or I will tell Sir William who really left the gate open the day your cows went missing."

Although still looking like he intended to argue, John took one look at Elizabeth's stern expression and excused himself with a bow and a solemn, "please forgive me if I was impertinent, Mr. Darcy, I intended no harm."

Once he was gone, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy, wondering how she could at once apologize for her friend's rudeness, seek an answer for the behaviour which he had referencedand extricate herself from any conversation as quickly as possible.

"Although I wish Mr. Lucas exercised more circumspection in his address, he did raise a point I have been curious about," she said.

"And that is?"

"Why you could be found quite nearby many of my conversations during the most recent engagements we have both attended. What did you mean by it?"

She noted that her companion seemed neither surprised nor offended by her question. Though she reasoned he was likely very practiced at concealing emotions.

"Though I cannot speak to his accuracy regarding yourself, Mr. Lucas was somewhat correct about my own tendencies. In this case I was indeed attempting to make out your character. Attempting to reconcile my own observations with the varying accounts I have heard."

"And what is your success, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, affecting an indifferent air, but finding she was truly interested. Though she had no reason to alter her impression of his arrogance and disdain for the society of Herefordshire, to these impressions she had added some others including that Mr. Darcy was intelligent, a good friend to Mr. Bingley and perhaps most interestingly, a very reluctant object of Miss Bingley's admiration. All of this combined to cause Elizabeth to consider that her initial ideas about Mr. Darcy, though not mistaken, were at least not complete. She found that despite her fairly unaltered opinions she did not want him thinking ill of her.

"I believe I have come to understand you a little," he looked at her for a long moment and she was struck by the seriousness of his dark eyes, "and to wish to offer once again my apologies for my words that first evening."

Although tempted to point out that his apologies were never really sincerely offered in the first place, Elizabeth reminded herself to be gracious. In addition, she was not certain what it was he had come to understand but was not quite comfortable enough to pose the question. It might invite either criticism or possibly praise and she did not welcome either from this gentleman, so she chose to leave it be.

"I accept, Mr. Darcy. Let us speak no more of it."

"If I might be so bold, now that there seems to be some form of peace between us, would you consider assisting me?" Although there was nothing that could be called humility in this request, it was accompanied by a smile, something she had not seen from this particular gentleman before. She noted it was not obvious, showing no teeth and barely lifting his lips. It mostly showed in the light it brought to his blue-green eyes. Which upon closer observation were quite striking.

And that was how two days later, Elizabeth found herself standing in Netherfield's north field with a bailiff, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and Jane.

Chapter 13

"You would advise turning this and the western home field to pasture?" Mr. Darcy asked as the fivesome stood on a hill overlooking much of Netherfield's land.

"I would," Elizabeth answered with confidence. Mr. Dawson stood with she and Darcy while Jane and Bingley were, quite contentedly, some distance away.

"Do you agree, Mr. Dawson?" Darcy asked the bailiff, who had been almost entirely silent during the hour long walk about the perimeter of the estate.

"I'm sure I dun know, sir," the older man responded, lifting his eyes to the other gentleman for the first time that morning. "I just collect the rents and tend my own piece of land."

Elizabeth did not resent Darcy asking Mr. Dawson's judgment in the matter of the field. It was wise to seek more than one knowledgeable opinion when making decisions about estate management, or likely anything, but Elizabeth knew little of anything beyond the borders of Longbourn and cared for little beyond its well-being. She was surprised, pleasantly so, that he would ask the opinion of someone so far below him on the social ladder.

"Mr. Dawson, you know this is not so," Elizabeth chided gently. "Your farm is large and prosperous, indicating you know what has worked and not worked on your own land, and as bailiff you interact with all of Netherfield's tenants, so you know as well what has worked and not worked throughout the estate. This information is valuable when determining whether the new master should continue to attempt to plant and plough the fields in question or should turn them over to pastureland."

Mr. Darcy was looking at her with that curious expression he often wore when in her presence, but Elizabeth chose to ignore him and focus on the man to whom she was speaking.

"Well, I thank you for the compliment, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Dawson said with a slight bow of his head. "I am in agreement with your plan for the fields. Master Gibson cared little for farming and would not listen to any new ideas. The north field has been oats and the west wheat since my father held our tenancy."

"And so the soil is depleted." Mr. Darcy said.

"I imagine so, sir. As you can see this crop will not yield a harvest at all."

The three of them gazed out on the wheat field. Stalks that should have been at least two feet tall and ready to be harvested barely peaked out from the ground.

"I thank you for the insight, Mr. Dawson."

"You're welcome, Mr. Darcy. Though I confess I do not think my knowledge is really needed, Miss Elizabeth here knows of what she speaks. I never would a thought a woman, and a lady at that, would work so hard at farming and become good at it what's more. It's one of the reasons I let ya talk me into sending my girls to yer school – wouldn't be so bad if they turned out like you. Not that I think they could be ladies. . .I mean . . . that is of course not"

"Mr. Dawson," Elizabeth quickly interrupted. "Mr. Bates speaks very highly of your daughters and I am honoured that you would think to link me to them in any way. If you are amenable, I would love to take tea with them next week when I drop off a book I have been meaning to lend to Frannie."

"Of course." He agreed after a moment's hesitation.

Mr. Dawson was a proud man of few words. Twice widowed, he resisted any aid and though he was not in need of material assistance, the Bennet ladies had often tried to offer assistance of another kind – companionship and the presence of a woman, or women, for his daughters who lost their mother when the youngest was only five. Elizabeth had pressed her advantage in front of Mr. Darcy as she thought Mr. Dawson was less likely to argue with her, but she could not regret it. After exchanging a few more words regarding the history of the fields with Mr. Darcy he excused himself to return home.

"Now, as you have the opinion of both me and Mr. Dawson, are you satisfied?" she asked Mr. Darcy.

"For the most part," he answered, glancing at Jane and Bingley and Elizabeth imagined he wished his friend was paying more attention to the conversation regarding the fields, farms and plans for Netherfield and less to her sister. Though she didn't know which bothered him more – his lack of interest in the one or his apparent interest in the other.

"Is there a reason you think it better to convert the fields rather than letting them lie fallow for a season before attempting to plant again – instituting rotation techniques among other things of course?" Darcy asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth explained her reasoning, Darcy questioned her more closely. It seemed their opinions did not align. The conversation became a little heated as each of them felt their position the right one. Soon the attention of Bingley and Jane, which heretofore had been quite exclusively on one another, was captured by the conversation.

"Darcy, what is this?" Bingley asked, coming alongside his friend. "Are you arguing with a lady?"

Darcy looked chagrined. Elizabeth did not exactly relish arguments (her family might disagree) but when she felt strongly about something, she was not shy about expressing it. Nor did she mind when others did the same. It had not occurred to her to be bothered by the passion with which Darcy expressed his judgment regarding the use of the fields. Indeed, if she were to think about their conversation later that evening (and she would never admit to doing so) what would bother her would be the way he shut down after the interruption as if debating her was beneath him. Before that he had been speaking to her as if. . . as if her opinions needed reasoned, passionate and at times loud arguments to contradict them. This, to her, was a sign of respect. But of course, she thought nothing of it after she and Jane followed the gentlemen back to Netherfield. Well, she thought of it only a little.

After the party were divested of their outwear Mr. Bingley led them into a formal parlour where Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst greeted them. Mr. Hurst was also present, though he slumbered on a sofa and so his greeting would have to wait.

"Goodness, Miss Eliza, you must have fallen into a puddle or two," Miss Bingley observed, with apparent good humour. "It seems to rest of the party were somehow able to avoid your fate."

Elizabeth looked down at her petticoat and gown and then at the others. It was true. Jane, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy looked as if they had spent the morning here in this room conversing and taking tea, or some other equally sedate and clean activity. Meanwhile her petticoats were covered by at least three inches of mud in some places and though she had let down her gown to cover them when they came in the house it seemed really all that had done was allow it to share in the dirt and grime.

"I suppose you are right," she agreed, feeling mildly embarrassed.

"Not quite," Darcy offered. He took a hand and shook one pant leg. Dirt fell down onto the carpet below. "It seems darker fabrics conceal, whereas the lighter colours favoured by ladies reveal all. Though the fields we traversed benefited from the recent rain, Miss Elizabeth and I did not."

"I suppose my lack of mud and dirt is as much an indictment as anything that I was not as focused as I should have been during our sojourn," Bingley said as he shook his own pant leg and sounded only mildly contrite.

"Indeed," Darcy agreed. "However, all is not lost. You and I can discuss what I learned, and I have no doubt you will take to your duties soon enough.

Elizabeth nearly laughed at how Mr. Bingley seemed to glow under this prediction.

"I do promise to apply myself, Darcy. You are doing me a great favour by giving of your time and expertise and I don't mean to let you waste it."

"See that you do not, Charles," Miss Bingley admonished.

"What will you advise regarding the north and west home fields?" Elizabeth asked, a hint of mischief in her tone.

"I am not certain."

Elizabeth took that as a victory.

Chapter 14

"Are you certain this is an appropriate activity for me?" Lydia asked as she and her sisters settled into their carriage. "I am missing my lessons and being exposed to mixed company. Sisters, really this is too much."

"You will not get out of this that easily, little one," Lizzy said with a laugh. "You may make up your lessons tomorrow and there will be no mixed company. Miss Bingley told Jane the gentlemen were to dine with the officers.

Lydia huffed in response, but there was no real annoyance in it. Her sisters knew she was delighted to be joining them. Although Miss Bingley's invitation to dine had included only Jane, the eldest Miss Bennet had sent back a response that made clear she wanted no part in friendships or outings that excluded her family. Of course, the wording was terribly kind and also made clear she assumed the oversight had simply been due to an assumption of a lack of availability of the rest of the Bennet sisters. The return note graciously invited all of the sisters to dine.

Dinner at Netherfield was a grand affair. The food, if not exactly delicious, was extravagant and there was an abundance of it. Initially the conversation was pleasant, if not exactly stimulating. But like the food there was an abundance of it. After all, with seven ladies at the table there were plenty of willing participants and topics to canvas. During the third course the Bingley sisters seemed to move the discussion from the general to the specific.

They began with Jane whose kindness they must have mistaken for simple-mindedness and Mary whose quietness they may have assumed masked a lack of intelligence. Of course, even though they had shunned the company of almost everyone in the neighborhood they would have heard enough information to glean some mystery, and perhaps some impropriety was involved. It was why Elizabeth insisted Jane not dine with them alone. Not because her sister could not handle herself, she could, but because she should not have to. The Bingley sisters likely thought they, expert London gossips, could extract all of the details from their naïve new friend with no trouble at all. They were in for a surprise.

"Do tell us about your parents, dearest, Jane," Mrs. Hurst began, all kindness and curiousity.

"I am afraid I have no memories from before I came to Longbourn." Jane replied, her clear blue eyes demonstrating not only her honesty but also her lack of guile.

"She was barely two years old," Mary explained.

"Then she became a big sister not six months later," Elizabeth said, smiling at Jane.

"Well, not truly a sister," Mrs. Hurst pointed out.

"Jane is our sister in every way that matters," Mary said, taking her Jane's hand under the table. "We know that she was born far away. Likely you have heard the gossip but in case you are missing any information - they were our relatives, they loved her and could not care for her. They passed and though that is tragic we are thankful every day she came to us because she is the best of all of us." All the Bennet ladies were smiling now. Some at Mary for her sweet and bold defense of their sister and some at Jane to likewise show their support.

The Bingley sisters looked at their guests then at one another. They must have realized they would not be getting any intelligence on this particular topic for they moved on, attempting to elicit information about the size and income of their father's estate, the quality of the family's connections and the potential marital prospects of all the ladies. On this last matter only, they may have gleaned some valuable intelligence from Kitty who was among her sisters the one with the least amount of guile. Mr. Collins was mentioned by her and just as quickly dismissed by Mary. In fairness to the second youngest Miss Bennet her sisters did not prepare her for the type of inquisition to which they all were subjected. They were used to defending off inquiries regarding jane and had a script ready for that eventuality but beyond that . . . So though she watched them deflect and demur with smiles and wit she was not entirely sure what was happening until they discussed it later, in the privacy of their chambers.

After dinner as the party made their way to the parlour Mrs. Hurst, perhaps believing she had found the real weak link in the youngest of the family pressed a new question.

"Miss Lydia, Jane has told me that you and your sisters have never had a governess. You must enjoy the freedom that allows you."

Elizabeth seemed about to answer on her sister's behalf but a look from Jane stopped her.

"I suppose I did for a time, Mrs. Hurst," Lydia said in a tone some might mistake for innocence, but in which her sister's heard mischief. "However; last spring I came under the tutelage of not one but four very wise teachers and find that I prefer their strict regimen to any idleness I may have enjoyed previously."

The Bennet sisters laughed, the Bingley sisters did not.

"Four teachers?" Miss Bingley asked.

"Lydia is teasing," Lizzy explained. "It is a tradition in our family for the elder sisters to take on the role of teacher for the younger and so Lydia, poor dear, suffered from an abundance of tutors standing at the ready to offer what we felt sure was worldly wisdom, a wealth of knowledge and heaps of practical advice when she left the nursery. What we lack in training we certainly make up for in in enthusiasm."

"I see," Mrs. Hurst said when it seemed perhaps, she did not, "but still no formal education for any of you? The older ones who teach the younger have also had no governess either?"

"No, Mrs. Hurst, however we have all had access to a wonderful library, can read whatever we choose, masters come and go from Longbourn at different times and seasons depending on what we wish to study, and we have each other to spur on our learning – that may be our most valuable asset," Mary answered with a subtle edge to her voice that her sisters had seen her develop over the past few years.

An uncomfortable silence seemed to follow this speech, but then Jane asked Miss Bingley about some aspect of her wardrobe and this subject carried the ladies until the unexpected arrival of the gentlemen a half an hour later.

"Caroline, I had no idea you had invited guests to dine with you," Mr. Bingley declared as he and Mr. Darcy entered the room. "I am glad Colonel Foster insisted we return early before the rains made the roads more difficult. Otherwise, we might never have encountered our delightful neighbours. Ladies, it is wonderful to see you." He bowed to each of the Bennets as he said this, ending with Jane for whom he reserved his brightest smile.

"Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy," Jane greeted the gentlemen as she and her sisters rose. Mr. Darcy bowed to the ladies and took a seat by the window. "Where is Mr. Hurst?"

"He was fatigued by this evening's activities and chose to retire," Mr. Darcy answered after Bingley took a moment too long. Mrs. Hurst looked upset, Miss Bingley embarrassed.

"Please tell him he was missed," Jane said.

"Of course," was Mrs. Hurst's terse reply before she excused herself to check on her husband.

"How was your evening with the officers, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked the gentleman who sat some distance away, not her brother, who has taken the seat opposite her, the nearest seat to Jane Bennet which was empty.

"It was very pleasant," Bingley answered. "I quite enjoyed myself and my friend there, though usually not one for company, did as well I daresay. Darcy can never resist talking to military men about the war, even if they seem more inclined to talk of ladies and balls."

"Has Colonel Foster determined to host a ball at last?" Kitty asked. "We have all been trying to persuade him."

"I do believe he would like nothing better," Bingley answered with a broad smile. "He indicated as soon as he has settled properly in his lodgings it will be his first priority."

Lydia and Kitty exclaimed at this news. The elder Bennet ladies were also excited but expressed themselves with slightly less enthusiasm.

"This is wonderful news," Elizabeth said. "But I am curious about what the military men had to say about military matters. Do tell, Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy turned toward Elizabeth, looking at her with the kind of concerned scrutiny she had become used to.

"Do you really wish to know?" he asked.

Elizabeth regarded him for a moment. Executing her own silent examination. She did wish to know. Although she was no expert on any of the events currently unfolding on the continent, she was always curious to hear more about them. Her lack of knowledge was due mostly to the fact that very few people in Hertfordshire had any inclination toward current events and her father did not subscribe to a newspaper. Therefore, any of her information and understanding came from the occasional visitor, her Uncle Gardiner who was a keen follower of both parliamentary matters and military ones, and the newspaper of Sir William Lucas which she would borrow from Charlotte after her father had finished. She was interested to learn what Mr. Darcy, Colonel Foster and any other of the officers might have discussed, but less certain about entering into a conversation with her erstwhile adversary when she was clearly the one more deficient in knowledge and information. In the end her curiosity and honesty won out.

"I do."

"A Captain Carter has an uncle in the Royal Navy who was involved in the transportation of troops to the peninsula last year," he began. He proceeded to share what the Captain had learned from his uncle about the troops on the continent and the rumours of battles to come.

"It seems strange that some not-so-great distance away battles rage, men fight and die, and the fates of nations are being decided and yet our lives go on as always," Elizabeth mused.

"I have often felt the same," Darcy responded, "my cousin is in the regulars and though he does not like to speak of his time on the battlefield whenever he comes home, I feel keenly the difference in our situations."

"Is he home now?" Elizabeth inquired.

"No, we expect, we hope he will return soon but he has been in Portugal for some time," Darcy answered, sounding both proud and worried.

"I will pray for his safe return," Elizabeth said earnestly, holding Mr. Darcy's gaze for a moment before Miss Bingley chose to offer her promised prayers as well at which time Elizabeth turned to her sofa companion, Mary, and began a conversation about book donations for the school they were hoping to secure.

Sometime later Bingley was summoned from the room by Netherfield's housekeeper and during his absence Mary reminded Jane of the hour.

"Indeed, we should be leaving," Jane said. "Miss Bingley, thank you so much for your hospitality and please tell Mrs. Hurst . . ."

What Mrs. Hurst was to be told was lost for the moment as Mr. Bingley re-entered the room in a state of some agitation.

"Miss Bennet, ladies," he began, "I am afraid I have some bad tidings, although I hope we can resolve the matter quickly and to everyone's satisfaction."

"What is it, brother?" Miss Bingley asked. "Your words are ominous, but you seem quite delighted." It was true, Mr. Bingley was smiling and looking about as if quite pleased.

"Nothing too dire, but Mrs. Cogsley has indicated that the road between Longbourn and Netherfield is flooded, and it would be unwise to attempt your journey home tonight. It seems a bridge has been affected."

Jane and her sisters, quite familiar with the pitfalls and perils of their local roads were not entirely surprised.

"We would hate to impose on you, but when that part of the road floods and the bridge is compromised, carriage travel is not safe. If it were daylight we would gladly walk home."

"Some less gladly than others," Lydia teased, but only Elizabeth seemed to hear, and her response was merely an indulgent smile. She well knew Lydia's aversion to walking. The two fought occasionally about it, with the elder always trying to get the younger to see the merits and advantages and the younger insisting walks were necessary only to get one somewhere interesting and should be avoided by using other modes of travel whenever possible.

"We must insist that you all spend the night and tomorrow we can assess the state of the roads and make a decision at that time about how to get you home safely."

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley," Mary said, "we appreciate your hospitality. In truth the roads of our village are notorious. We have, on more than one occasion, been stranded at a neighbouring home or had guests stranded with us."

"Wonderful, then we won't lament the inconvenience but be thankful for the company," Bingley declared. "I shall have cook send up some sweets. In addition, I will have rooms prepared for all of you." The ladies indicated one or two chambers would be sufficient as they were quite used to sharing.

After stepping out to accomplish these tasks Bingley returned and claimed the seat next to Jane that had just then been vacated by Kitty, who chose to move to the other side of the room to sit by Elizabeth and Mary who were still discussing the school and their efforts to procure books for its pupils. Lydia was included in Jane's conversation with Mr. Bingley which left Miss Bingley free to make her way to where Mr. Darcy sat gazing out the window into the darkness.

"Shall we play some cards?" Bingley asked after the sweets had been delivered and consumed. "We could make up two tables for whist or Piquet perhaps?"

The Bennet sisters practically groaned at this suggestion. Jane quickly apologized for their reaction and Mary hastened to explain.

"We are not averse to cards, Mr. Bingley. With regard to Piquet – we have an ongoing . . . tournament of sorts among ourselves. Keeping track of wins and awarding prizes and such."

"It is a way we reward ourselves after a long day at our tasks or lessons, "Jane continued. "It is only that lately . . ." she paused and looked at her youngest sisters.

"Lately," Elizabeth picked up the story, having no compunction about the accusation contained within the explanation. "We have begun to suspect certain of our sisters of cheating. And so, we have chosen to refrain from play until the issue can be resolved."

"You simply cannot fathom how Kitty and I consistently best the rest of you," Lydia complained. "We are not the simpletons you take us for."

Elizabeth was taken aback. It was true that there was a time when she did not credit her youngest sisters with much sense. Indeed, with regard to Lydia this time was not so far in the past, but she had thought over the course of these past months they had both come to understand one another better. It seemed she still had work to do.

"That is not true, Lydia," Jane insisted.

"It certainly feels true," Lydia countered, 'if the only way you think we can beat the three of you would be to cheat."

"You know that is not the only reason," Elizabeth countered, then, indicating those in the room who were not in fact members of her family or participants in this quarrel said, "but this is an issue we will resolve at a later date."

"How would you resolve such a disagreement?" Miss Bingley asked, appearing nothing but delighted at the turn of the conversation even though her guests seemed increasingly uncomfortable.

"You can imagine that with five sisters we have developed methods for settling disputes and affecting rapprochements," Elizabeth said, "I'm sure you do as well in your family?"

"We have had no need for any such methods," Miss Bingley haughtily declared, "we do not argue." As if this idea was so atrocious, she actually shook her head and held out her hands.

"That is not entirely true," Bingley said with a smile, "I have no doubt we could benefit from whatever it is your family does to deal with squabbles and such. Please enlighten us."

Bingley's interest was clearly sincere even if his sister seemed intent on either discomfiting or antagonizing her guests. Still the sisters hesitated. Then Bingley turned to Jane, "please do not feel obligated. I only hoped to gain insight into your rather remarkable family."

Elizabeth knew then that their story would now be told. Jane, it appeared, could not resist that earnest speech, heartfelt gaze and winning smile.

"It is really quite simple," Jane answered. "Whenever there is a disagreement that cannot be resolved immediately, or the parties cannot simply make allowances for a difference of opinion, they are invited to state their case to the jury of sisters not directly involved who then render a verdict."

"A sisters court," Bingley laughed with delight. "Brilliant."

"It has worked quite well for us." Elizabeth said. Though she did not plan to discuss this with the present company, she was not opposed to it. The Bennet sisters resolution court, as they called it, was well known within the neighbourhood.

"Are the verdicts always respected?" Mr. Darcy asked with what appeared to be sincere curiosity.

"They are," Mary and Kitty confirmed.

"Could you give us a demonstration?" Bingley asked eagerly. "I would love to see how it is done. Perhaps the situation with Piquet – is that what you meant when you spoke of resolving the issue? In your sisters court?"

"It is the next item on our docket," Elizabeth confirmed with a smile. "However, as much as I would like to indulge you, as you are graciously hosting us this evening and have gone to great lengths to see to our comfort, we decided years ago that our proceedings would always remain between us and us alone."

"Of course," Bingley responded, clearly not offended, but still curious. "It must be an interesting sight. Perhaps when you take husbands they will be admitted to the privilege."

"Yes, perhaps," Elizabeth agreed, trying very hard not to raise her laughing eyes to Jane who she was certain was blushing furiously. Though not furious there was a decided pinkness that crept over Miss Bennet's features. Fortunately for her, Mr. Bingley seemed as disinclined as she to make eye contact in that moment.

"Oh yes will Mr. Collins soon become a participant?" Miss Bingley asked with a laugh that might have seemed genuine if not for the furtive way her eyes examined each of the Bennet sisters in turn as if seeking a weakness to exploit.

"Mr. Collins?" Darcy asked before he could stop himself.

"Oh yes, did you not know?" Miss Bingley responded, turning to fully face Mr. Darcy, "There is a gentleman connected . . . oh do remind me how." Miss Bingley was all ardent interest and sincere curiosity.

"Mr. Collins is our father's cousin and a clergyman," Jane said gently, her eyes watching Elizabeth.

Elizabeth heard Lydia shift in her seat and somehow knew that her youngest sister intended to say something to their hostess and that it would be neither restrained nor measured. Although all of the Bennets knew what Miss Bingley was trying to do, save perhaps Kitty, only Lydia was bold enough to say something direct about the indelicacy of it. However, before she could speak herself and prevent the set down she felt sure Lydia had planned, Jane enthusiastically suggested Whist at this point and tables and cards were quickly brought out. Somehow, and she was fairly certain it was Mr. Bingley's doing, Elizabeth ended up partnered with Mr. Darcy at a table with Kitty and Mary. Though each a skilled player these particular sisters made terrible partners, their strategies were entirely divergent. Elizabeth enjoyed playing and winning. This was not surprising. What was, was the varied and pleasant conversation at the table and how much Mr. Darcy was responsible for it.

"You are quite good," he told her as the tables were breaking up.

"Thank you, I believe my partner deserves some credit."

"I am glad you think so; however, I doubt my skill had much to do with it."

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Miss Bingley asked, coming over to where Elizabeth and Darcy stood, slightly apart from the group. As she was clearly speaking to Mr. Darcy and not Elizabeth that lady felt free to excuse herself and join the others.

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said, as she walked away. She turned back to face him. "I thank you for the game. I have not enjoyed myself like that at cards in a while. I would not object to partnering you again."

Though the words were delivered without any indication of emotion Elizabeth felt they were sincere and as he tended to be a man of few words, she took these few to heart and reluctantly admitted, to herself, that he was slowly becoming less obnoxious to her.

"That is very amiable of you, Mr. Darcy," she said with a smile.

"I am rarely accused of amiability," he responded with a smile of his own.

Still unused to seeing this expression on the handsome gentleman's face Elizabeth paused for a moment. It was a good look for him, she decided. Without menaing to she added it to the small catalog of his smiles in her mind. This one turned up both corners of his lips, still no teeth, mischief, just a little, in his eyes. Perhaps they stayed that way, regrading one another, for a moment too long as Miss Bingley repeated her question to Mr. Darcy and punctuated it by turning her back to Elizabeth and sliding between she and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth offered a smile and raised brow to that gentleman before joining her sisters and Mr. Bingley. Shortly thereafter, the Bennets indicated their wish to retire. Miss Bingley kindly offered to accompany them to show them their rooms. This may have been due to the fact that Mr. Darcy had, just moments earlier, indicated he himself intended to retire. Several of the Bennet ladies chose to ascribe to Miss Bingley; however, the graciousness of a good hostess and kindness of a new friend.

Chapter 15

After preparing for bed the Bennet sisters gathered in the room assigned to Jane and Elizabeth.

"Jane, your future home is delightful," Lydia teased.

"I am sure the suites of the more exalted guests are even more spacious and well appointed," Elizabeth added with a wink.

"I have no doubt," Kitty agreed. "You should perhaps ask for a tour before you make any life-altering decisions."

"Will you desist, sisters," Jane admonished, though she was laughing with them. "I think you all know the house; its furnishings and rooms will not enter into any decision I make regarding anything and that is all I have to say regarding that."

Though they all looked like they wished to continue they held their tongues. Kitty then asked an unrelated question.

"Why did you not want me to say anything at all regarding Mr. Collins?"

"Oh Kitty, you are so naïve!" Lydia exclaimed with an exaggerated sigh. "The only reason Miss Bingley could even ask her question, which was really her digging for information, was because you spoke of Mr. Collins when she said – what was it?," here Lydia broke out into an admirable impression of Miss Bingley's nasally voice, "five daughters and not one of you spoken for, how singular!"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Kitty," Jane rushed to assure her, with an admonishing look at Lydia. "I understand why you wanted to contradict her in that moment. It is only that . . . Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would like to . . . they are . . ."

"They are looking for anything they can use against us! You saw how they jumped on Jane's parentage," Lydia finished when Jane seemed unable or unwilling. "You giving them Mr. Collins was a huge mistake. It is obvious Miss Bingley is quite jealous of the attention Mr. Darcy pays Lizzy. Mark my words, she will find a way to use this to her advantage."

"Lydia, that is unkind," Jane admonished. Elizabeth, though surprised at Lydia's words and tempted to argue the point concerning Darcy, was about to agree with Jane on principle when another sister added her own thoughts.

"Perhaps she stated her thoughts with slightly more vehemence than necessary," Mary conceded with a reproachful glance at their youngest sister, "but she is correct none the less."

"Correct about what?" Elizabeth asked.

"About Miss Bingley's sinister nature, I suppose," Mary answered and Elizabeth began to nod in agreement before she added, "also about her jealousy owing to Mr. Darcy's demonstrable interest in you."

"Lizzy, you are blushing," Kitty teased with a laugh.

"I am not," Elizabeth protested even as she felt her cheeks grow hot, hotter?

The rest of the Bennet ladies insisted, quite rightly, she was and much teasing and pillow throwing ensued. Finally, and unsurprisingly, it was Mary who called them back to their conversation.

"I think we can all agree that, Lizzy, you were blushing quite furiously and, Kitty, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst believe themselves our superiors and will constantly be looking for confirmation of this. Our strategy must be to provide them with nothing but the information that is generally known. Understood?"

"Yes," Kitty responded with enthusiasm. "She will get no further material from me. I am sorry, Lizzy, if her knowing about Mr. Collins will make things difficult for you."

"I am certain Lizzy can handle Miss Bingley," Jane said with a smile. "Besides, you merely mentioned his name in connection with a potential engagement, no more was said this evening other than our familial tie and his profession; she will have to dig for further intelligence."

"Jane, that was almost an admission that your future sister is a scheming shrew!" Lydia exclaimed.

"Hardly!" Jane protested.

Though glad her sisters were able to make Kitty understand Miss Bingley's nature and how they must act accordingly Elizabeth dearly wanted to question them further on their perception of Mr. Darcy and herself. Did he pay her special attention? She knew asking about it now would invite more teasing. This she could stand. What would follow the teasing was what she was not sure she was ready for – the questions. So, she did not inquire. As it turned out, her sisters intended to see to her discomfort regardless.

"Lizzy, though much of our conversations this evening were either insipid or impertinent there was something that got me thinking," Lydia said.

"Do tell," Mary demanded with a smile of intrigue.

"We should hold a sister's court, I like Mr. Bingley's name, regarding Mr. Collins."

"Mr. Collins?" Kitty asked, clearly confused at how they had come back to that gentleman.

"Yes, I propose that we present his case to Lizzy. Two of us argue for and two against and then you, dear sister, must make a decision."

"That is an excellent idea," Mary offered.

"I insist on being on the side that urges she not marry that officious, foolish man," Kitty said.

"Of course, I must be on that side as well. I already have dozens of good points to make," Lydia responded.

"It is less important who is on what side and more important that we establish the parameters of the case itself," Mary told them, warming to the idea immediately. "It would be different than our normal disputes so we would first have to agree on procedures."

Jane, ever the peacemaker and Elizabeth's staunchest ally, could see this made her sister uneasy and so intervened before plans went any farther, insisting they postpone the discussion to a later date. Shortly thereafter the younger sisters repaired to their chambers and the eldest were left to themselves. Jane's gentle nature prevented her from pressing Elizabeth on either her potential aversion to resolving the issue of Mr. Collins through their traditional methods or inquiring into the issue of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was grateful. She was not averse, however, to a lengthy discussion regarding Mr. Bingley. Neither was Jane.

Elizabeth decided to let Jane sleep the next morning. She slipped out of their room after a hurried toilette and strolled about the gardens for a half an hour before heading to the library to read for a while. At nine o-clock she made her way back to their room. Surprised to find her sister still asleep, Elizabeth, with a fond smile, crept back out and went in search of breakfast on her own. She did not expect their other sisters to rise for a little while yet and was curious who else in the house might be up and about with her.

Mr. Darcy rose to his feet when Elizabeth entered the breakfast parlour. Previously, she might have assumed the look on his face indicated displeasure but with her sisters' words still in her head she allowed this might not be the case. Perhaps it was simply surprise she saw there.

"Good morning, Miss Elizabeth," he greeted her. She gave him credit for a degree of friendliness in his tone.

"Good morning, sir. Please feel free to resume your seat, I may take a few minutes to fill my plate."

Darcy sat back down, and Elizabeth went to examine the array of food arranged on the sideboard. After selecting some toast and meat she took a seat across from Mr. Darcy who laid aside his paper.

"You need not forgo your reading for my sake," she assured him, uncertain if she hoped he would take up his paper once more or choose to converse with her instead.

"It is no hardship," he said simply. "Did you and your sisters sleep well?"

"I can speak only for myself, as I believe all of my sisters are still abed, though that may indeed indicate their answer, but I did in fact sleep quite well, thank you."

"Are you generally the first to rise?"

"I am," she smiled, "I would normally be up and out of the house by now attending to something or other. If you could contrive to keep us at Netherfield for a few more days I might finish this charming novel that much faster."

"I see what you are about, you were not attempting to please me or even be polite when you suggested I read my paper. You hoped to return to your own reading," he inclined his head to the book which she had placed next to her plate.

"That may or may not be true, Mr. Darcy," she smiled at him and he smiled in return the act bringing a lightness to his eyes she had not seen before. It certainly enhanced his features which, truth be told, were not in need of much enhancement.

"I will draw my own conclusions," he told her with an air of teasing mystery which was as novel as his smile - though it was one already in her catalog – eyes bright and teeth slightly bared.

"Very well," she replied, pleased she sounded just as arch as she intended when in reality, she was just a little bit discomposed by this slightly, very slightly, pleasing and flirtatious Mr. Darcy. Telling herself it was only her sisters' silly remarks from the night before which put such unlikely thoughts in her head Elizabeth determined to think no more of it and entered into a very safe and non-flirtatious conversation with her breakfast partner about the price of wheat.

Somehow when her sisters arrived fifteen minutes later this sedate and relatively uninteresting conversation had turned into a debate about a particular text regarding the rights of women and more specifically how the life of its author should or should not influence how the principles therein are valued. The two combatants barely paused in their discussion when Mary, Lydia and Kitty entered, though Darcy did rise and offer them a polite greeting. After they were seated and had acclimated themselves to what was being debated Lydia interrupted.

"Mr. Darcy, if I might offer you some advice." The fact that she paused and waited for him to accede to this offer demonstrated how far she had come in the past few months under the tutelage of her elder sisters.

"By all means," he said, taking his eyes off of Elizabeth and turning to her with an expression of curiosity.

"Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to persuade my sister to anything with regard to Miss Wollstonecraft. Many have tried. I do not mean to disparage your intelligence or abilities, but merely to warn you. It will not go well for you."

Mr. Darcy looked between Lydia and Elizabeth for a moment, appearing to consider her words.

"Is your sister correct," he asked, "is your position intractable?"

"I would not say intractable, merely correct." Though her tone was serious she offered a soft smile to show she was teasing.

"Very well, I shall not concede, merely withdraw to consider my position."

Elizabeth nodded with an exaggerated graciousness, clearly considering herself the victor. The discussion shifted to how soon their carriage could be made ready and whether the roads would be sufficiently dry and clear for them to travel. Though Mr. Darcy rarely took part, he did not at any point take up his paper. Elizabeth noted this and once again credited him, at least, with this act of civility. Just as the ladies rose to leave, Mr. Bingley, the Hursts and Miss Bingley entered. Good mornings were exchanged in and amongst the groups even as Miss Bingley moved to take a seat next to Mr. Darcy.

"Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth said. He still stood speaking with her sisters even while his family had taken their seats and begun their breakfasts. "If it is no trouble, would it be possible to have our carriage readied for us to depart in a few hours?"

The truly stricken look on her host's face was both amusing and endearing to Elizabeth as was his clear desire to keep Jane in his home being the inspiration for it.

"Truly I do not think that wise," he protested, "I doubt the roads, having only so recently been devasted by the storm, could support it. And what about the bridge?"

"We will go around the bridge, and the roads, generally, are well enough after a storm. If we allow the day, which appears sunny enough, a little time to dry them out," Mary answered.

This answer did not seem to please Mr. Bingley, but he had no chance to respond as a maid entered with a note for Elizabeth, it was in Jane's hand. Elizabeth excused herself and her sisters to the others and stepped out to read it.

It seemed Jane was feeling unwell and suspected she had a fever.

Chapter 16

Jane, of course, was more sorry to be giving so much trouble than she was to be sick. Her sisters had immediately determined that though not life-threatening her condition was in fact serious. After seeing to her comfort, they moved into the hallway to listen as Elizabeth gave them their tasks.

"Mary, would you please send a note home and to the Phillips explaining the situation. I do not want our family to become alarmed. Father will have guessed we stayed the night due to the roads but they will all be concerned when they hear Mr. Jones has been dispatched to us. Which is to be your second note. Please ask him to come as soon as he is able. He should be at home, but please have the messenger seek him out if he is not. His servant will know where to find him."

"Yes of course," Mary agreed with alacrity, eager to be of use. "I believe I saw some stationary in the sitting room we used last evening."

Before she could turn to go Elizabeth stopped her.

"Perhaps you could go with Lydia who will be seeking out Miss Bingley to apprise her of the situation and asking if she will allow us to trespass on her kindness at least until Mr. Jones renders his opinion regarding Jane's condition and the advisability of travel. She could direct you to the materials you need and the best servant to take the notes."

The two sisters moved down the hall arm in arm and Elizabeth was thankful for each of their strengths. Lydia's confidence meant she would not be intimidated by their condescending hostess and Mary was efficient and logical, she could accomplish important practical tasks even when she was worried and anxious.

"Kitty, would you sit with Jane and see to her needs?"

"I will," she seemed unsure, then added, "of course I will, but I had assumed you would do that as you and she rely one each other so much. I am not certain I am what she needs most."

"We do rely on each other, Jane and I," Elizabeth confirmed, taking Kitty's hands in hers. "But we all rely on one another do we not? I believe Jane would benefit from your gentleness right now. You are a far more patient nurse than I. Us middle children sometimes are not given the credit we deserve for our gifts and abilities. I hope you will learn to see clearly what a treasure you are. Few possess your quiet purpose and calm spirit."

Kitty smiled and blushed at this praise.

"What will you do?" She asked Elizabeth.

"I must get some herbs from Longbourn's stillroom. Jane is much better at that sort of thing than I, but the many hours I spent at her side chattering away while she worked, have taught me some things. There is a tisane for fever I can make for her tea and possibly something to help her rest if she must stay on here."

"Now who is not seeing themselves clearly? You are quite capable with remedies, nearly as good as Jane. While I appreciate your attempt to make me feel better you needn't dim your light so mine shines brighter. I heard what you said."

"Thank you, Kitty. I hear you as well. It was a silly tactic, and I won't use it again. You are too smart!"

The sisters embraced and Elizabeth advised Kitty that she had no doubt Mr. Bingley would soon send all manner of staff to look in on her so she would be well taken care of until the others returned from their tasks. Moments after the door closed a familiar voice rang out in the quiet hallway.

"How will you get to Longbourn?"

Elizabeth nearly jumped in surprise. Laying a hand on her pounding heart she turned around.

"Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Elizabeth, I apologize for startling you." When she nodded her acceptance, he repeated his question. "How do you plan to travel to Longbourn?"

"Were you eavesdropping, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, not entirely ocnfortable, imagainig him overhearing the private exgancgine beteen her and Kitty.

"Not intentionally, I assure you," he said, all seriousness. "I had come to offer my assistance, having assumed something was amiss. I arrived only in time to say you needed to go to Longbourn and intended to make my presence known at that moment, but then it seemed . . . I did not want to make Miss Catherine uncomfortable."

"I understand," Elizabeth said. And she did. An interruption at in the middle of that rapidly flowing personal conversation might have discomposed Kitty. She wondered if he really had discerned that much and it seemed he was giving her credit for being able to withstand the personal invasion with equanimity. If so he was coming to know her.

"Very well and in answer to your question - I suppose I will take our carriage, although I am not certain the roads will be entirely passable for a few hours yet. Truth be told I had not thought that part through," she confessed, worrying her bottom lip.

"Let us ride then," he suggested.

"Does Mr. Bingley have a lady's mount in his stable?" Although Miss Bingley and her sister were quick to claim many accomplishments last night at dinner, Elizabeth did not remember either of them discussing riding.

"He does. Though Miss Bingley is not overly fond of riding she insisted, several years ago, her brother obtain a mount for her and maintain it wherever they find themselves. Truth be told, Hera gets little exercise and would be glad of the activity."

Elizabeth knew riding would get her home, back and ministering to Jane that much faster, but asking anymore favours of Miss Bingley rankled her pride. Of course, Jane was worth it.

"Thank you for that information, Mr. Darcy, I will seek out Miss Bingley to see if I can persuade her to allow me the use of her horse this morning."

"No need," Mr. Darcy responded. "She mentioned just now that she was willing to do anything to help ensure your stay was . . . not unduly lengthened. I think we can agree your getting the ingredients you need will work toward that end."

"Very diplomatically put, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said biting back a smile. He really could be quite charming when he was not arrogant, condescending and dismissive, which seemed to be happening more and more. A little more conversation between the two and it was settled. To her surprise Elizabeth found that not only was Mr. Darcy endeavouring to see to all the necessary details but planning to accompany her.

She returned to her room to check on Jane and tell her sisters her plan. Lydia and Mary had not returned. Kitty reported that though Jane was now asleep she had been restless, and her fever appeared to be worse. While they spoke, a maid knocked on the door and delivered a riding habit. Elizabeth could see right away that it was little used and must have come from Mrs. Hurst who was much closer to her more diminutive height than her sister. After quickly changing she made her way to the stables, encountering only staff along the way.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Miles greeted her. Mr. Miles, Netherfield's stablemaster, was known to her not only because his son went to the school, but because he and his family had lived in Hertfordshire since before she was born. "Hera has been saddled and readied for you. She is a beauty."

"Thank you," she stroked the mare and fed her the apple she had taken from the kitchen. "Mr. Miles, I was so pleased when we heard Mr. Bingley had retained your services. There is no one better in all of Hertfordshire with horses."

"Thank you, Miss. I am glad for the work."

"Miss Elizabeth, my apologies if I have delayed you." Mr. Darcy sounded as if he had rushed from the house down the hill to arrive before them outside the stables where a groom was just then leading a brilliant black stallion to them. "Thank you, John." The groom dipped his head in acknowledgement before returning to the stables.

"Not at all, Mr. Darcy. I am only now ready to depart. Thank you for seeing that I had appropriate attire as well," Elizabeth said as she followed Mr. Miles to a mounting block and climbed atop her horse.

"Of course. Mrs. Hurst was more than happy to lend you her riding habit as she rarely has a chance to wear it."

"Having recently become acquainted with your more mischievous nature I am tempted to ask if Mrs. Hurst in fact has any knowledge of the favour she has done me at all."

Elizabeth urged her horse forward toward the lane that would lead them through town and then onto Longbourn. As Darcy came beside her, he smiled an enigmatic almost smile that Elizabeth found both charming and frustrating. They rode in silence for nearly a quarter of an hour.

"Mr. Darcy, I believe we must have some conversation," Elizabeth said at last. "I cannot believe you accompanied me to ride silently by my side for the duration of our journey."

"My purpose was less to entertain than to escort you for the sake of protection and propriety," he answered with more of the hauteur she had been used to hearing from him previously, then with just a hint of mischief he added, "but if I can add to your enjoyment while I am here, by all means advise me as to what you would have me say."

"That reply will do for present. Perhaps I may observe that what I require most is protection from the mud that even now is having its way with the hems of this borrowed frock. What is propriety if not saving a fair maiden from the perils of the weather?"

When Darcy looked uncertain as to how to respond Elizabeth continued, "It does seem to be a theme with us."

"What is that?"

"Mud," she answered with a smile.

"I suppose so," he conceded with a nod, after a moment of apparent careful consideration. "Please allow me to apologize for not being able to protect you from its effects once again."

"Very well, Mr. Darcy, another reply that will do. Allow me to say in return that despite the bits of mud being tossed up on the hem of my habit your plan to ride was in fact a good one as this road would certainly not support a carriage, at least not without getting stuck multiple times. In addition, Hera is a beauty so while I would never wish this illness on my sister, I am thankful for the rare opportunity to ride such an elegant and spirited mount."

"Does your own horse compare unfavourably?" he asked.

"I do not mean to disparage my dear Daisy, but she is more for utility than show. We do not have the means, nor do I really have the inclination, to keep two types of horses so they all must serve a purpose in addition to carrying me around."

"I can understand that" Darcy replied thoughtfully. "Zeus is a fine stallion, but he pulls his weight. I prefer to travel on horseback whenever possible. I have no use for show animals either."

"Zeus and Hera?" Elizabeth asked with a smile as they turned down the lane that would lead them to Longbourn's gate. "I can only imagine who came first."

"I am certain you can." He returned her smile with one of his own. As had happened each time he engaged in the activity, each time she added a new one to her catalog or he broke out a favorite, she found herself almost transfixed by the effect it had on his face. His eyes lit with warmth and everything about him seemed so inviting, a stark contrast to his usual mien. She did not have long to contemplate her own reaction as they then found themselves at her front door.

Chapter 17

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were divested of their outerwear by Mrs. Hill who was quickly apprised of their errand. She informed them that Mr. Bennet was in his study.

"Perhaps we may escape undetected," Elizabeth told him as she led them through the entry and down a narrow passageway toward the stillroom.

"It would be no hardship to pay my respects to your father." Was the formal reply.

"Here we are," Elizabeth told him as she opened the large wooden door and stepped down into Longbourn's stillroom. Dried flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling and pestles and mortars of different sizes and colours were arrayed on two wooden shelves on one wall. The other three walls were hardly walls at all, but were taken up mostly by large windows that let in copious amounts of sunlight that clearly did the large number of potted plants strewn about the room some good as many were nearly Mr. Darcy's height.

"I will only take a moment to gather what I need," Elizabeth told him. She moved to take some of the containers from the shelves and placed them on the large square table at the centre of the room.

"You needn't rush on my account. Can I be of any assistance?"

"You could hand me that blue pestle and mortar behind you," she told him as she opened the small wooden containers to assess the state of their contents. Mr. Darcy placed the requested items on the table, and she measured out what she needed and then ground it together. When she had finished, setting it aside, she found another pestle and mortar in front of her. She murmured a thank you as she began measuring out more ingredients. Mr. Darcy also seemed to have discovered their store of travel pouches and out of the corner of her eye she watched him carefully shake out the fever tisane she had mixed into the small leather sack he had taken from the side table. When she reached up to get a handful from the flowers drying above her head and found she could not reach, Mr. Darcy was there.

"Allow me," he said, breaking a small amount from the camomile bundle and placing it in her hand.

Elizabeth felt the familiar dry pieces land on her open hand, knew to drop them into the waiting mortar and even picked up the pestle to begin to crush it together with the other ingredients. However, her mind was not truly focused on any of this. Mr. Darcy's proximity, the slight tingling on her palm where his fingers had touched hers, the scent of mint and citrus, the way his eyes seemed to be looking at her in some surprise – all of these things vied for prominence in her increasingly confused consciousness. The silence lengthened until footsteps could be heard in the hall. Elizabeth turned away and began to press the dry components together, focusing entirely on the familiar rhythm. Mr. Darcy had stepped away to retrieve another pouch which he placed by her before moving to stand by the door. When she felt she could trust her voice again Elizabeth spoke.

"My tasks are complete, Mr. Darcy, we may go," she told him, then added, "if you do not mind, I would like to stop in and see my father to ensure he has received word of Jane's condition and the current state of things at Netherfield."

"Of course," he nodded. "Would you like me to accompany you or would you prefer I await you outside?"

It was on the tip of Elizabeth's tongue to accuse him of preferring the latter, but she stopped herself with a reminder that she had determined to be less hasty in her judgments of him. Perhaps he sincerely intended only to have her state her preference that he might defer to it. The problem, which seemed to keep presenting itself when it came to this gentleman, was that she was not sure what she preferred.

"You may consult your own feelings on this matter, Mr. Darcy," she said with a smile. He took the pouches from her and she preceded him out of the room. When they arrived where they had begun, Longbourn's small entryway, Elizabeth turned toward the front parlour through which she would pass to reach her father's study. She imagined Mr. Darcy would either follow her or request his things from Hill who, ever efficient, had emerged from the front hall almost as soon as they had come through.

"Will you be leaving now, Miss?" she asked.

"I am to see Papa first, Hill. Mr. Darcy will . . ."

"Be joining Miss Elizabeth," he finished for her.

"Very good," Hill replied and turned to ply her efficiency elsewhere.

Elizabeth knocked lightly on the door to the study. Hearing a muffled reply, she pushed open the door and moved into the familiar space. Though once a retreat where Mr. Bennet fled from his family, and some would even say his responsibility, over the past few years his study bore witness to that gentleman's transformation. Strewn over his desk along with a well-worn copy of the Iliad, which he was attempting to translate from the Greek, were letters dealing with the sale of Longbourn's crops, some regarding his investment interests and of course one from Mr. Collins. Most of these he even responded to promptly. In addition, while there had always been one comfortable chair, Elizabeth's favourite place in the house growing up, it now had several compatriots so that three of his daughters at a time could enjoy a quiet place to read, discuss their education with one another and even occasionally with their father or simply escape the inevitable chaos created by a household with seven family members, five servants and an array of visitors. Elizabeth had even managed to stake out an area for herself. She now had her own small desk in the corner from which she reviewed account books, answered correspondence that her father found either too tedious or otherwise deferred to her and superintended, along with Jane, the education of her sisters.

"Papa," she greeted the man behind the desk. His eyes rose to her in a warm welcome and then shifted to amused curiosity when he saw that not only was she not alone, but the aloof Mr. Darcy was by her side. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Papa, Jane is unwell." As she knew they would her words instantly transformed him from indolent onlooker to concerned parent. "You likely guessed that we stayed last night due to the roads. This morning she was still abed when I woke and when I returned after breakfast, I found her feverish. Kitty is with her now. Mary has sent for Mr. Jones and I should imagine, that note," she tapped a sealed letter on the edge of his desk, "is from her also, telling you all this."

Mr. Bennet looked chagrined but nodded for her to continue.

"Mr. Darcy has accompanied me to retrieve supplies to make Jane some remedies to see to her comfort and hopefully reduce the fever. We mean to return presently."

"Very well, very well," he said. "I see you have it all in hand. I should have expected nothing less. I suppose you require nothing of me?"

Elizabeth heard the slight note of petulance in her father's voice and moved to soothe him but was forestalled.

"Indeed, your daughter is quite capable. I imagine she learned a great deal of that from you," Mr. Darcy spoke for the first time.

"Perhaps," Mr. Bennet replied after eyeing the other gentleman for a long moment. Turning to Elizabeth he said, "thank you for letting your old father feel he was at least important enough to warrant an update in person. Now off with you before your aunt or Mrs. Lucas or another nosy neighbor come calling, though I suppose you need not worry about their machinations. You are safe. We can thank Mr. Collins for that at least."

Elizabeth sighed. His need to interject Mr. Collins into so many of their conversations was an intermittent source of tension between father and daughter. In order to avoid an argument in front of Mr. Darcy Elizabeth chose to ignore his remarks for the present.

"I will tell him as much in my next letter," she said simply, kissing his forehead and turning to leave.

"Sir," Mr. Darcy bowed to Mr. Bennet and followed Elizabeth out of the room. The pair made their way to the front of the house where, to no one's surprise, Hill appeared with their outerwear.

"Thank you, Hill."

"Yes, Miss. Please tell Miss Bennet we will be praying for her," she handed Elizabeth a basket. "I packed some of cook's strawberry scones for all of you."

"Thank you, Hill. You are a treasure! They will be so delighted – you always think of everything."

Hill blushed at this and seemed to want to brush off the praise. Instead, she said, "be sure your sisters get them, young lady. I will be asking."

Elizabeth assured the stern looking housekeeper she would share the scones, her very favourite treat. Though as she and Darcy left the house and he took the basket from her she said, "I did not promise how many scones would make it to Netherfield. Shall we?"

She opened one end of the basket and pealed back the cloth covering the treasures inside.

"I am afraid we have a serious predicament," she said gravely.

"Did your housekeeper substitute radishes for your beloved scones?" He asked with a shudder.

"Mr. Darcy, were this situation not so dire we would have to stop here and discuss your heretofore undiscovered propensity for teasing. However, we must now confront this considerable dilemma."

"Which is?" he asked, looking down at her with that smile that seemed to transform him so completely and so distractedly that Elizabeth lost the thread of what she had been about to say. For a moment. Recovering, she offered a smile of her own before explaining:

"These scones are warm." She said this as if it were the most serious thing in the world. Mr. Darcy seemed to require more explanation and so she continued, "although Mrs. Woodley's scones are delicious regardless, they are best enjoyed while fresh."

"I see, and I assume you have a proposed solution?"

"Is it not obvious? We must eat some now."

"Of course," he agreed with an eager look that led Elizbeth to believe he might be as interested in the contents of the basket as she. Did Mr. Darcy have a sweet tooth? "however, I would not want to consume that which was meant for your sisters."

"I promise there will be enough. Mrs. Woodley is nothing if not generous." She pulled the cloth back further to reveal the large quantity of scones within.

"Very well then, I impatiently await this treat that has you so excited."

Elizabeth handed him a scone, then took one for herself before replacing the cloth and closing the basket. Darcy inched the basket up his arm and the two of them ate as they strode toward the horses.

As they were riding back Mr. Darcy confirmed for Elizabeth that the scones were the best he had ever had, even going so far as suggesting he would like the recipe to pass along to his cook at Pemberley. They arrived at Netherfield just as Mr. Jones pulled up in his gig. Mr. Darcy helped Elizabeth dismount in front of the house so that she could proceed inside with the apothecary, assuring her he was quite capable of seeing the horses to the stables, when he noticed her hesitation, he smiled a -becoming less rare smile - and added, "I will see to the basket as well."

Chapter 18

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," Elizabeth said as the apothecary gathered his things and prepared to leave. "My mind is at ease now."

"Happy to be of service, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia." The ladies had gathered near to door to see the gentleman out. "As I said, Miss Bennet is of a strong constitution so if you allow her to rest and keep administering the tisanes, I expect her to be herself in just a few days."

Elizabeth was relieved that Mr. Jones confirmed her belief that, though serious, Jane's condition was not dire. What was not a relief was his admonishment, it was actually more of an order, that Jane remain at Netherfield for the time being. Her sister's health would always be her priority and so Jane would stay. However, she was not entirely pleased at the prospect if it involved herself also remaining. Though she had to admit, only to herself, that some people, or person, was no longer the source of her uneasiness at continuing on as a guest. Her sisters would make more of it than it was, but Elizabeth now considered Mr. Darcy on his way to becoming a friend. This, of course, was all that could ever be between them as she was on the verge of an engagement.

The sisters discussed the news from Mr. Jones. Each expressing relief at his faith in Jane's full and fairly swift recovery. They had varying reactions to the prospect of her staying at Netherfield. Jane roused and they went to sit around her as they continued their conversation. After fussing over until Jane insisted they leave her be and simply continue talking.

"How did Miss Bingley respond to your news that we would not be immediately making ourselves scarce?" Elizabeth asked Lydia.

"She looked as though she had caught the scent of something really terrible," Lydia laughingly told them. "Truly, if Mr. Bingley had not walked in a moment later I am convinced she would have insisted we leave regardless."

"I am certain that is not true, Lydia," Jane said, her voice weak, but her conviction clear.

"She was not entirely pleased," Mary offered, "but I do not think it ever occurred to her to send us away." Jane smiled in gratitude. Mary had become an unexpected ally, at times, when Jane pressed her sisters to consider the more positive side of things. Jane believed this was due in part to her work at the school and the natural joy children introduced. Elizabeth had noticed this about Mary as well but had another theory. Mary was simply logical and occasionally this led her to Jane's way of thinking. In reality it was not logical that Miss Bingley would turn away her neighbour's family while one was ill under her roof – as much as she might have wished to. Therefore, Mary expressed this. Jane invariably expected the best out of every situation and person. Lydia, like Elizabeth and their father, enjoyed the foibles of others. In the youngest Bennet this often led to her acerbic wit being turned on the subjects of her observation with cynicism and judgment. While she agreed with Lydia more often than not (she really was a keen observer with a humorous way of relating her insights) because of Jane's delicate heart and kind spirit Elizabeth tried to either remain silent or support her cheerful sister's perspective without being dishonest.

"Of course, Miss Bingley would never do such a thing," before Lydia could offer her further thoughts on that, Elizabeth continued, "to do so would show her to be less than an ideal hostess and if nothing else Miss Bingley prides herself on being a hostess to admire and emulate."

"If you ask me, she is auditioning for the role of mistress of Pemberley," Lydia told her sisters.

"Regardless of the reason we are to be grateful she is graciously hosting us since I have gone and made a terrible nuisance of myself," Jane said.

The other Bennet ladies vehemently protested this characterization and when it was clear even this small amount of conversation and relatively minor conflict was too much for their sister, they insisted she rest.

"I will warm up your tea," Kitty said taking the cup and saucer from beside the bed. Turning to the others she added, "she was not equal to drinking it all earlier and so I imagine did not get much of the tisane. It was the second cup with it she has taken, but the first was finished hours ago."

"Thank you, Kitty." Jane offered a smile.

"The rest of us will take our bickering to the other room," Elizabeth told Jane as they all followed Kitty out.

"Do not bicker." This admonishment, uttered in a weak voice, could be heard just as Elizabeth closed the door. She peaked back in and stuck her tongue out at Jane.

"You rest up and recover quickly or you never know what we will get up to."

What they got up to was sitting in Lydia, Mary and Kitty's room to discuss Jane's impending stay at Netherfield. They waited until Kitty returned from her errand to return to this subject.

"As you seem quite capable of handling our hostess I will ask that you again communicate with Miss Bingley the situation," Elizabeth said to Lydia.

"Certainly," Lydia said with a smile. "Although she will not be pleased to have Jane under her roof for reasons connected to her hopes for her brother, I think it is the matter of who will stay to attend her that might be more of concern to her. What shall I tell her?"

"I think Kitty should stay." Elizabeth, anxious to avoid another discussion regarding the intentions or interest of Mr. Darcy, did not state this as an instruction but a suggestion, inviting her sisters' thoughts.

"I would be pleased to," Kitty agreed. Elizabeth could see that she was truly pleased. In a house such as theirs it was easy to get lost and Kitty was still finding her way, her place among her sisters. Elizabeth reminded herself to do better by her shy and reticent sister.

"Kitty is an excellent choice," Mary agreed, "but perhaps two of us should stay to allow us to share nursing duties. We already have a room so I do not imagine the inconvenience would be too great."

"Would you like to volunteer?" Elizabeth asked. If at all possible, she was determined to be one of the party who returned to Longbourn. Of course, if Jane preferred that she stay . . . time would tell.

"I could stay," Mary agreed. "I know Lydia would prefer to return home so that she might resume her lessons."

Not so long ago this would have been a jest, such a statement would have been so opposite Lydia's personality. Now, however, it was true as Lydia enthusiastically confirmed – she would indeed like to return home.

"Papa promised we would discuss Rosseau today and if I acquit myself well enough, he will allow me another day with Madam Thibeault."

"He knows how to motivate," Elizabeth observed. She and their father had spoken of this added expense last week and agreed they could afford it and that the benefit to Lydia would be worth it. She herself had written Madam Thibeualt to confirm her availability and willingness. Little did she know Mr. Bennet used this already established reward to ensure Lydia focused on her studies outside of her artwork.

"So Mary and I will stay?" Kitty confirmed. "Shall we inform Miss Bingley?"

Before they could do just that a servant knocked on the door with a note from Longbourn. Its contents would alter the plans the ladies had just made.

Chapter 19

"Why must he continually make such a nuisance of himself," Lydia moaned, throwing herself on one of the beds. "He cannot think we enjoy entertaining him twice a year and now a third visit? It is too much."

"Lydia, he is our cousin and moreover he hopes to create an even closer connection. It is only natural he would want to visit more often," Mary was ostensibly answering Lydia's complaint, but her eyes stayed on Elizabeth.

"But I don't understand why father, with news of the visit, also told us he thought you best suited to tend Jane. These things seem unrelated, but it is Papa. I am guessing they are not?

Elizabeth was almost proud of Kitty for her skepticism and insight. Almost, because her nascent curiosity meant Elizabeth had to answer her. She looked at her sisters and considered what to say. Although they had always been close and as the younger girls grew up they had begun to share more over the past few years, Elizabeth was always fairly self-contained. In addition, she hoped to protect them from some of the unpleasantness she was exposed to and allow them to continue in blissful ignorance about others.

"Papa would like me to accept Mr. Collins now, rather than wait until I am twenty-one." All three sisters looked as if this was a surprise to them and Elizabeth wondered if it was a mistake to take them into her confidence. Thankful that her father had been circumspect in this at least, she decided they would learn some but not all of the story with regard to Mr. Collins, a few chapters perhaps. "He merely wants to finalize the arrangement. He knows Mr. Collins has been keen to formalize our plans and make plans for a wedding." That was true enough. "Therefore, I think perhaps this was his way of suggesting I come home, knowing I might wish to avoid Mr. Collins."

Kitty nodded thoughtfully while Mary and Lydia seemed to be considering a response to Elizabeth's revelation.

"And do you?" Mary asked.

"Do I?"

"Do you wish to avoid Mr. Collins?"

Three sets of eyes regarded Elizabeth. She knew that each of her sisters were interested in the state of her relationship with Mr. Collins. She also knew their desire to know more was not simply curiosity but a concern for her well-being. This knowledge made her more forthcoming that she might have wanted to be.

"I do," she confessed. "I know that I will not be able to avoid him entirely, nor do I truly wish to, however, I would, in all honesty, like to put off our reunion for a time."

Mary, Lydia and Kitty nodded.

"Then you should stay," Kitty offered. "I will return with Lydia and you and Mary can stay and nurse Jane."

"Are you certain, Kitty?" Elizabeth asked. "You seemed eager to stay earlier."

"I was happy to be of use, that is true," she agreed. "However, I do wish to be able to visit the Wilsons tomorrow morning. You know their daughters as well as Mrs. Wilson's mother have been ill, and I wish to determine what their needs are."

"Kitty, you are a dear," Elizabeth rose from her chair and pulled Kitty from her own seat on the bed into her embrace. "We could all learn from your goodness and devotion to the people of Longbourn."

Although she blushed at this and claimed she deserved no such praise, her sisters could see Kitty was happy to be recognized.

"Not to interrupt this wonderful moment," Lydia said, "but I am certain Mr. Collins will be more desirous of your company than ours. Will he not think it strange when you choose to stay away?"

"Actually, I doubt it will be an issue," Elizabeth sighed. Once again Elizabeth thought about how much to tell her sisters. Once again, she settled on some but not all. "As I said, I imagine this unplanned visit is intended to formalize our engagement. In order to do that Mr. Collins will want Father's attention not mine."

At this Kitty and Lydia laughed, but Mary looked thoughtful. They all knew how foolish such an approach was. Not only would such a plan be ill-advised in winning Elizabeth's regard, but even if he desired the match, Mr. Bennet would never force his daughter's hand. In the two years he had been acquainted with their family Mr. Collins had yet to glean this important and rather obvious dynamic.

"In addition," Elizabeth continued, "Mr. Collins knows how close Jane and I are." At this declaration she did feel some guilt. She had been willing to leave Jane in the care of their other sisters only an hour earlier in order to avoid . . . because she thought it best for other reasons. In truth she would have stayed if Jane desired it. Although she recognized both choices were born of cowardice, a trait she despised when she recognized it in herself, there was too much at stake for her to quarrel with herself.

"Then it is settled," Lydia declared. And it was. She appointed herself the emissary and went to inform their hosts. The others went back to Jane's room to sit with her and determine her needs. Elizabeth wrote out a list of ingredients she would need from the stillroom and they discussed what other items and clothes would be sent back to Netherfield.

"I will do my best to keep our aunt away," Kitty said with a smile as the sisters made their way to Netherfield's entryway. As Mrs. Phillips came to Longbourn nearly every day, had since her sister passed, she would soon learn that several of her nieces were residing at Netherfield for a time. She would likely have some ideas on how to make the most of that particular situation.

They made their way to the Bennet carriage that awaited them outside.

"She may come if she wishes," Elizabeth answered with a hint of mischief. "I am certain our hosts would enjoy hearing her opinions on any matches to be made."

"Elizabeth," Mary said in a tone of reprimand. Before she could issue whatever admonishment, she contemplated they were joined by Mr. and Miss Bingley.

"Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia we are certainly sorry to see you go," Mr. Bingley told the young ladies. Miss Bingley looked sorry as well, but Elizabeth suspected it had more to do with that fact that three Bennets were staying than that two were leaving.

Goodbyes were said, several curtsies were executed, and one bow repeated in response. Elizabeth and Mary walked out to wave their sisters off. They walked back inside, arm in arm and found their hosts about to go their separate ways into different parts of the house. Before doing so Mr. Bingley assured them that whatever they needed would be provided. Miss Bingley, to her credit, agreed with her brother. Although in her own particular way.

"I realize you are likely not used to having so many servants available to see to your needs." Her smile was all that was pleasant. "Please do not hesitate to ask for whatever your sister or you yourselves require. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to be of service."

"Thank you, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth responded with a smile that might, in a certain light, be deemed pleasant.

Miss Bingley also advised them that their things would be sent to their room as soon as they arrived, and that dinner would be at half past six. There may have been some comment about there not being a need to worry about having fashionable attire – of course the Netherfield party would understand their wardrobes were not the latest London designs.

Mr. Bingley had already left when his sister assured them that if they preferred to dine with Jane in their rooms everyone would perfectly understand.

Elizabeth thanked Miss Bingley through slightly clenched teeth and Mary guided them into a room right off of the entryway, gently closing the door behind them. Elizabeth raised a questioning brow at her sister.

"I thought it wise to prevent you from following Miss Bingley. You looked as if you wanted to explain some things to her."

"I may have," Elizabeth admitted. "Even you, in all your patience, must have had a thought or two about Miss Bingley's manners during our conversation."

"I may have," Mary conceded with a smile.

"Do you think this is the library?" Elizabeth asked, taking in the oversized room. It had a large window taking up one wall while the other three were lined with shelves. Though only sparsely populated with books, it was clear if one was so inclined this room had space for many volumes. Several chairs sat in front of a stately mahogany desk by the window while others were situated in front of the shelves at intervals throughout the room.

"I imagine so. This would be the perfect place to hold the sisters' court you promised – were it actually necessary." Mary said as she ran her hand long the empty desk.

"Is it not necessary?" Elizabeth asked.

"I had not thought so. Perhaps I am wrong,"

"Mary, sometimes you are too observant. No, you are not wrong."

"You will accept Mr. Collins." This was said with such a mixture of sympathy and understanding that Elizabeth felt perilously close to tears.

After a deep sigh and a brief thought that speaking it aloud might make it more true, Elizabeth resigned herself. "How did you know?"

"You have never avoided him before."

"Too insightful as well," Elizabeth pouted. "You are correct as always. I know it is not particularly mature or brave of me, but if I must accept our cousin once and for all, I think I am entitled to a small act of irresponsibility and cowardice."

"You are neither irresponsible nor cowardly." Mary defended her sister. Then asked, "must you accept him?"

"Mary with all of your observation and insight I imagine you know better than anyone why I must."

"I know why you think you must, but Elizabeth please do not give up any chance of happiness simply because you believe it the best way to ensure we might find it. Should it not be love that moves you to matrimony, not duty?"

Elizabeth very much wanted to throw herself into her younger sister's arms. Somewhere over the last year all of her sister's had grown taller than her. Sometimes she liked this – feeling as though, if she chose, she could be surrounded, be small, in one of their embraces. It might make her burden seem less. Though to be fair, her burdens were less, each of her sisters had taken on some part of the care and concern which had been solely hers not long ago. The ones that remained solely hers, however; could never be borne by the others because she would not allow it.

"Mary, I appreciate you so much for wanting me to have everything we have always spoken of," Elizabeth thought of all the late-night talks, the questions and dreams the sisters had shared. She turned and stared out the large window which overlooked Netherfield's neglected, wild gardens. "You know that it is love that moves me, love for you and Jane, and Kitty and Lydia. Love for the people of Longbourn and Longbourn itself. I know it is not quite the same, but truly even though I have tried to put off formalizing our arrangement I have always known I would accept Mr. Collins. This love compels me and before I did not truly question if it was enough."

"Before?" Mary asked.

"I simply meant before I would have to make the arrangement official." Elizabeth stammered, having said what she had not intended to say in front of the one sister who might not only understand, but also press her on it.

"That is not what you meant."

"Is it not?" Elizabeth said lightly.

"You meant before Mr. Darcy."

"Too insightful indeed." Was the only response Mary got before Elizabeth insisted they needed to check on Jane before changing for dinner.

What neither sister saw, nor did he intend that they would, was the figure who arose from the large overstuffed chair in the far corner of the room the moment they departed. Mr. Darcy had not heard Elizabeth and Mary enter the library. He had been uncharacteristically asleep in the middle of the day. We must blame a restless night and a boring letter for such an unusual state. By the time he was aware of their presence he realized they were very much not aware of his, as they were having what seemed to be a private conversation. Though he sincerely intended to present himself, lest they reveal things not meant for his ears, he did not. Perhaps this was unforgivable as it was the mention of Elizabeth marrying a Mr. Collins that prevented him, and such a subject was clearly not one they would wish him to hear. He was too curious, perhaps more than curious, to do anything but listen, however. He learned many things about Elizabeth he had not known, but in reality, the overheard conversation, raised more questions than it answered – why was Elizabeth marrying someone she did not love, what did it have to do with Longbourn and her sisters and, most importantly to Mr. Darcy himself, what did this have to do with him? As he sat and listened to Elizabeth declare she would marry someone, someone else, Darcy's mind had screamed "no," his heart had demanded he acknowledge how wrong that would be while his palms grew sweaty and his head pounded. Being unfamiliar with love or even infatuation Darcy could not quite name the symptoms he was experiencing but he was certain he needed to do something – surely at the very least Elizabeth had become a friend and she was distressed. Perhaps he could help. This calmed him. His distress abated, his heartrate slowed and his head, mostly, ceased its pulsation. Feeling this was a vindication, Darcy moved to the door, determined the hallway was empty, and proceeded to his room to dress for dinner.

Chapter 20

That night at dinner Mr. Darcy had several allies in his quest to discover more of what lay between Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth. It happened during the second course.

"Miss Eliza, I thought I understood from your sister, Kitty, that congratulations are in order," Mrs. Hurst said with an innocent smile. "The Mr. Collins that was mentioned last night. He is your intended?"

"He is a cousin and I believe, a parson somewhere correct?" Miss Bingley put in helpfully.

Though Darcy wanted to understand the meaning behind what he heard in the library he could immediately tell Elizabeth was uncomfortable with these questions. His curiosity was not worth her distress, but he could not quickly come up with a way to redirect the conversation.

Elizabeth was only somewhat surprised by the question. The Bingley sisters had been sitting with Jane when Mary and Elizabeth returned to her room and all four ladies remained and enjoyed a half hour of conversation together before separating to dress for dinner. So it seemed logical that if there was genuine interest about Mr. Collins that would have been a more appropriate time to express it. Of course, there was no genuine interest. Exposure was the aim. It seemed Mr. Collins was only brought up in mixed company.

"His father was my father's cousin, he is a clergyman, and I am not engaged," Elizabeth responded, feeling no need to elaborate. She tried very hard to not look at Mr. Darcy. Why did she feel compelled to do so in any case? In this she failed almost immediately and was chagrined to find his eyes, full of concern, resting on her.

"Would you like me to ride to Longbourn tomorrow to procure more ingredients for the remedies you need for Miss Bennet?" he asked.

"Do you believe you were sufficiently observant to procure the proper ingredients without my presence?" She asked with a grateful smile.

"Likely not," he admitted.

"Then you must go as well, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley insisted. "You may take Hera, Caroline's horse. She insists we take her with us wherever we go though I don't know why, she never rides. Hera could use the exercise."

Head bowed, ostensibly focused on her chicken, Elizabeth tried not to smile. She could not help it when her eyes once again sought Mr. Darcy's. He was not smiling, but his eyes sparkled with a slight hint of mischief when they met hers.

When Miss Bingley did not immediately offer her assent, Mary spoke up. "We would not wish to inconvenience you, Miss Bingley. Kitty has a list of ingredients and can be relied upon to bring them tomorrow afternoon."

"Not in the morning?" Darcy asked.

"No, she has plans to visit one of our tenant families in the morning and I confess I thought what I brought back would last longer and so did not see a need to ask her to delay her visit. The family has been ill, and she is anxious to be of use," Elizabeth explained.

"I had not realized the supply was so low," Mary said to Elizabeth.

"I am sure whatever it is, our kitchens have what is required. They are certainly more extensive than those of Longbourn."

"Not so well stocked that they can produce a decent ragout," Mr. Hurst declared. It was his first comment of the evening.

"I am certain they are well stocked, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth conceded, "However, the ingredients for the tisanes that provide Jane with some relief in her current state are quite specific. I do not imagine they can be found in most houses that do not specifically cultivate them."

"Let us send a note then. I am sure that is preferable to a long ride," Caroline offered.

"A long ride? I believe it is less than three miles to Longbourn is it not, Miss Elizabeth?"

"That is correct, Mr. Bingley."

"Then if you wish it you and Darcy can ride out in the morning. I have a sneaking suspicion you are like my friend here and you will both be up and out before the rest of us are even below stairs."

Before Elizabeth could respond Miss Bingley had other ideas to put forward.

"I am certain Elizabeth would prefer to stay here and tend to her sister. Mr. Darcy and I could retrieve whatever is needed and free you to be with dear Jane."

"Caroline that is ridiculous," Bingley said. "You would not even know what was needed never mind the awkwardness of two near-strangers showing up at Longbourn's door and asking to be shown into the stillroom. Sometimes I do wonder about you."

"I was only thinking of what is best for dear Jane."

"Of course, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth said. "I do appreciate your consideration. In truth I do not mind walking if it is an inconvenience to use your horse. Please think nothing of it."

"It is not an inconvenience," Bingley insisted, with a sharp look at his sister. "Walking there and back would take you an age."

"I could return on Daisy, my own horse, and so the time, though not insignificant, would be less," turning to Miss Bingley she said, "truly I do not wish to impose on you."

Miss Bingley was quick to disclaim this was the cause of her concern.

"Of course, it is no imposition. I only wish to make things as easy as possible during your stay. I merely thought my solution would allow you the convenience of tending your sister and procuring whatever it is you think necessary from your home to make your potions," Miss Bingley responded.

Elizabeth was frustrated by this conversation which seemed to be less about how to help Jane and more about how Miss Bingley could either spend time with or show herself to advantage to Mr. Darcy. She turned to include Mr. Bingley.

"I will travel however seems most convenient to you," she told them. "It is my priority to obtain the ingredients as early as I can so that Jane may take the fever tea when she awakens in the morning. I will leave it to you to determine my mode of transport. Please keep in mind I am quite used to walking." With that she and Mary rose and begged to be excused from the rest of the evening that they might tend to Jane.

As soon as they were gone the other ladies had much to say about them and none of it was complimentary. After a few general comments on the family, the ladies' attire and their lack of formal educations they moved on to more specific concerns.

"Really, scampering about to fetch ingredients to concoct remedies best left to servants and that apothecary, who seemed nearly competent," Mrs. Hurst exclaimed. "Can they imagine their little potions actually make a difference?"

"Such notions," Miss Bingley agreed before her brother could voice whatever opinion he seemed to have ready. "It really makes one feel as if instead of being a mere three hours from London we have travelled back in time. Do they not understand modern medicine?"

"Do you?" Bingley mocked, clearly exasperated.

Mr. Darcy was mostly quiet, but not unusually so. One might have supposed he heard barely one word in ten that was said. The party adjourned to the drawing room where the sisters entertained the gentlemen with duets and concertos until everyone retired for the evening.

When Elizabeth descended the stairs the next morning, she was surprised to find Mr. Darcy, book in hand, sitting in a chair by the door.

"Miss Elizabeth." He rose to greet her. "I had thought you would be prepared to be on your way early."

"You were correct, as you see," she smiled at him and tried to ignore the way in which his answering smile caused a cascade of reactions within her, it really was disconcerting.

"Shall we be off then?"

"You mean to accompany me?" she asked. "You do know I intend to walk?"

"I can see that," he answered. "Although I, along with Bingley, support the idea of taking Hera regardless of Miss Bingley's . . . opinions, I suspected you would prefer to simply avoid any further discussion and would just walk out this morning."

"And so assigned yourself to be my escort?" When Darcy looked uncertain in response to her tease, she instinctively reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. "My apologies, I did not intend to truly reprimand you. I would be happy for the company."

Darcy's answering smile was one of relief and something else. He took her hand which rested on his arm and placed it inside his elbow and escorted her outside where his carriage awaited them.

"Mr. Darcy, what is this?"

"While I know neither you nor I are averse to a long walk, this method is more expeditious."

"You are very thoughtful," she said simply, as he helped her into the carriage.

On the short ride through Meryton, up the road toward Longbourn and down its drive Darcy and Elizabeth spoke but little. There were the expected inquiries regarding Jane's health (she slept poorly, and her fever persisted), how each had slept (well, the beds at Netherfield were quite comfortable) and their respective plans for the day (Elizabeth planned to spend the day at Jane's side, though she did hope to retrieve some letters from Longbourn that required answers, Darcy intended to attend to his correspondence and possibly go shooting with Bingley and Hurst).

The reasons for their relative quiet were distinct. Elizabeth was preoccupied with varying and unrelated thoughts and ideas. Jane's restless night, the state of the repairs on the barn, Mr. Collins's persistent suit, the price of seed, Mr. Darcy's . . . well Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy was similarly preoccupied but his preoccupation was singularly focused. He wanted to understand what he heard last night, and he knew the best source of information sat before him, but he also knew he not only had no right to the knowledge he already possessed never mind answers to the questions that knowledge raised.

When they arrived at Longbourn it was barely past eight o'clock. Elizabeth told him that her family would likely not be below stairs. Her prediction proved true and they proceeded to the stillroom without seeing anyone. Hill found them there, Elizabeth combining ingredients and Darcy looking on.

"Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, forgive me for not being at the door to see you in," she said from the doorway. "I saw the carriage out front and sought you out."

"Hill, please do not distress yourself," Elizabeth said, pausing in her task to regard her beloved housekeeper. "Mr. Darcy and I stole in like thieves and you are not to be blamed. I unexpectedly ran out of what I needed for Jane and he was kind enough to bring me over earlier than most anyone is up and about so that we might administer the remedies to Jane as soon as she arises."

"That is very good of you, Mr. Darcy," Hill said, briefly looking at that gentleman. "I will pack a basket of the breakfast I have laid out."

"Please do not go to any extra trouble. If Mr. Darcy has no objection we can simply eat what is available before we depart." Turning to Darcy she asked, "Would this be acceptable? We could take a few minutes. In truth I am a little hungry."

"I am entirely at your disposal."

Hill looked between the two. It seemed clear to Elizabeth something was bothering her. Whatever it might be, likely she was reluctant to talk about it in front of their guest.

"Mr. Darcy would you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Of course," he bowed to her and made himself busy transferring the powders she had just finished to the pouches he procured from the shelves.

Elizabeth joined Hill in the hallway, and they moved toward the main part of the house. Hill wasted no time in confiding her news.

"I wasn't certain if you were aware, but Mr. Collins is here."

"Oh my . . . I had thought he would arrive later this afternoon."

"Yes, I suspected your father might not have been clear. He arrived yesterday, in the early evening."

"That is a conversation we will be having, Papa and I. I know he likes his little jokes but to conceal Mr. Collins's impending visits from all of us . . ."

"Thank you, Hill. I do appreciate your letting me know. Although I do not expect Mr. Darcy and I will see him as he customarily does not rise before mid-morning on his visits. I will be ready to greet him should he appear while we partake of a quick breakfast."

And they did partake. Chocolate, apples and toast. Conversation about crops, politics and their families. It was pleasant and distracted them both from that which had occupied their thoughts in the carriage. They did not linger, however; and were ready to be off within half an hour. After Elizabeth ducked into the study to retrieve some letters, she found Darcy already in his greatcoat and Hill at the ready with her bonnet and pelisse in the foyer. Just as Hill reached to open the door for them a noise was heard on the stairs.

"Miss Elizabeth," a breathless, raspy voice called out. She turned and saw the gentleman descending the stairs, a toothy smile on his rotund face as he beheld her in the doorway attempting to make good her escape.

"Mr. Collins."

Chapter 21

"Miss Elizabeth, I understood from your father that you were from home and that to see you I would have to ride all the way to Netherfield. I was delighted when I heard your voice."

"Good morning, sir. Mr. Collins, might I present Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins is my father's cousin and has recently arrived for a visit with our family."

Elizabeth had barely finished when Mr. Collins eagerly stepped past her toward Mr. Darcy drawing a deep breathe.

"Mr. Darcy, it is a pleasure to see you." Turning to Elizabeth he explained. "I am acquainted with Mr. Darcy. He is the nephew of Lady Catherine De Bourgh and I have had the pleasure of meeting him several times when he makes his annual pilgrimage to his aunt's home, Rosings Park. I can report to you, sir, that both your aunt and cousin were in excellent health when I saw them three days ago."

"I thank you for that intelligence, Mr. Collins," Mr. Darcy responded.

"You are very welcome, sir," Mr. Collins said with a bow. "Might I inquire how you are acquainted with my cousin's family?"

"I am staying with a friend who is leasing a neighbouring estate," Mr. Darcy said, his tone not discourteous but Elizabeth heard the distinction between it and the more relaxed and informal way he spoke to her and the Netherfield party. She wondered briefly when he had stopped using his formal Darcy voice with her.

"A happy circumstance. I hope to see you again during your stay, but I can see that you mean to be on your way. Please do not let me detain you."

It had taken Elizabeth the length of this conversation to recover from the shock of this unexpected connection. Now that she had, she was silently thankful that though Mr. Collins's esteem for his patroness had not waned over the years he had learned some circumspection in its expression. She was never more grateful for that than in this moment. She did not like to imagine the genuflecting and sycophantic displays she might have witnessed during Mr. Collins's early visits.

"Thank you, Mr. Collins," she and Darcy said at nearly the same moment.

Turning to Elizabeth Collins took her hand gave it a brief kiss, relinquished it with apparent reluctance and said, "I understand you are tending Jane at Netherfield. I give you all the credit in the world for staying by her side and only lament the loss of your company here at Longbourn for the sake of your family and of course . . . myself. Although I enjoy our time together traipsing about the estate, I will submit myself to your father's teaching regarding Longbourn and endeavour to improve myself in order to prove worthy of you. Please give Jane my best and I will pray for her swift recovery for her own sake and so that you may return to my side as swiftly as possible." At the end of this little speech he executing a bow as if he expected some sort of recognition or applause.

"I will. Thank you," she tried not show her discomfort. It was not precisely his presence which caused uneasiness. She had grown used to him, his nearness, his occasional attempts at flirtation even. Perhaps it was that it was occurring in proximity to Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Elizabeth, shall we be off?" Mr. Darcy said after a moment's hesitation on her part.

"Yes, of course."

Bows and curtsies, steps and doors wheels and horses – they were quickly on their way.

Though it seemed Darcy had some answers he had lacked when sitting in this very carriage only an hour earlier, he also had more questions. When the short plump man claimed an acquaintance, he almost upbraided him for correcting Elizabeth, but then he mentioned Lady Catherine. Darcy then realized he had met the clergymen, possibly two or three times in his aunt's drawing room. He was a nice enough fellow who had grown less obsequious than he had seemed upon their first meeting. This he mostly inferred from the fact that he now recalled her ladyship complaining about his becoming too independent and thoughtful for her liking. Darcy could not help but think these were important qualities for a clergyman, but he knew Lady Catherine was far from agreeing with him. None of this foreknowledge nor his brief encounter, however, led him to imagine the man to be an agreeable match for the witty and vivacious Elizabeth Bennet. If anyone were asking him. Which they were not.

"Did Mr. Collins grow up near Longbourn?" Mr. Darcy asked. It was not the question he wanted to ask, but he did not have a right to ask that question.

"Briefly, his family moved away when he was a boy. We've only recently become acquainted," she paused, as if measuring what to say next. "He began to visit after the death of his father who was not on good terms with my own father, shortly after he took orders and was preferred to Lady Catherine."

"I believe I met him about the same time." Now Darcy recalled their first meeting. Lady Catherine had been essentially dictating a sermon to Mr. Collins when Darcy and Georgiana had arrived earlier than expected. Her Ladyship had introduced them and shared a few pieces of information about her new clergyman. Another piece of the overheard conversation fell into place.

"He is the heir to Longbourn?"

"Yes." Elizabeth had been staring out the window during this short conversation, but now turned and looked at him. He could not discern the meaning of her expression nor could he name the feelings that it evoked in him. He wanted to believe that there was nothing of love or wistfulness as they spoke of Mr. Collins, but he had been studying her eyes for some time and there was a tenderness in them now.

"I remember hearing something to that effect upon our first meeting at Rosings Park," he told her. "I had, of course, not realized the connection to your home until now. My aunt is quite fond of Mr. Collins."

The flash of anger in Elizabeth's eyes at these words was as confusing as it was unmistakable.

"I have never met her ladyship, but her benevolent interference is felt I assure you."

"You use the word benevolent, but I hear your emphasis on the word interference," he responded with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "I assure you that though Lady Catherine is my aunt, or perhaps because she is, I am aware of her tendency to attempt to arrange things as she feels best despite the opinions and desires of other parties. I hope she has not interfered in a way that has caused harm to you or your family?"

"Nothing so dire, Mr. Darcy, though I appreciate your concern," Elizabeth watched him for a long moment before continuing, "your aunt has been encouraging Mr. Collins to bring home a wife with all due haste. Some time ago he and I came to an arrangement and it was agreed that we would come to know each other until I reached my majority at which time, I would answer the question he put to me on his first visit."

"His first visit two years ago?"

"You sound like Mary!"

"Your sister also asks questions?"

"My sister also asks questions that are actually statements." Was her mildly angry sounding retort.

"It is not my place to make statements," he said simply.

"So you ask questions that are not questions," she challenged.

"I suppose I do," he conceded, then carefully asked, "will you answer?"

"Yes, his first visit two years ago."

"How old are you?" Never had a lady's age seemed so important. He watched her, eyes steadily watching the passing landscape, hands clasped in her lap, not still though, they rarely were. She turned to him before answering.

"Nineteen." She sighed. "However, I do not believe it matters at this point. The combination of your aunt's advice, my father's desires and the inevitable nature of the arrangement are conspiring to make the delay untenable."

"You desire the engagement but would like more time to become used to the idea?"

"No," she paused and though he felt she intended to say more he found himself unable to wait.

"No you do not desire the engagement or no you do not need time?"

"This conversation is entirely inappropriate, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth pointed out.

"You are correct of course," he conceded. "I apologize if my questions made you uncomfortable."

They had almost reached Netherfield. Though he knew he could not press her further he felt an uncharacteristic desire to do so.

"Please do not make yourself uneasy, Mr. Darcy, I am uncomfortable due to the answers, not the questions," she admitted with a self-deprecating smile. Darcy nodded his acceptance of her answer and they spent the last few minutes of the ride in silence. When they arrived, Mary greeted Elizabeth with the news that Jane had rested well, the sisters requested tea be sent up at once as she was now awake.

It was encouraging that not only was Jane able to take a cup of tea with the tisane but also some cake and fruit. The sisters were visited by the ladies of the house for an hour or so while the gentlemen were shooting. Elizabeth was reminded that when they chose to be, the Bingley sisters could be very pleasant companions, their conversation intelligent and varied. Jane's second cup of tea contained more of Elizabeth's remedy and she was glad when her sister drank the entire cup she poured for her. When Jane's energy seemed to have waned the others insisted she return to bed and excused themselves – Elizabeth and Mary to their room and Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley to other parts of the house.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in solitary pursuits by the entire party – reading, letter writing, dozing on a couch, walking in the garden. Soon enough they were all assembled once again for dinner, giving reports to one another about their hours spent apart. It very different from a Bennet family dinner. Very rarely did anyone speak over anyone else, the conversation could not be called enthusiastic at any point and no one laughed. Although at times Elizabeth lamented the loudness and excitement which characterized her family whenever they were together en masse she could not help but feel, as she sat through an hour and a half of insipid conversation sandwiched between the nearly comatose Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley who ignored entirely in favour of Mr. Darcy, that volume and enthusiasm were not so very bad in comparison.

After the gentlemen rejoined the ladies Miss Bingley, as was her custom, firmly attached herself to Mr. Darcy almost as soon as he had entered the room. Mr. Bingley sat himself near Mary and Elizabeth and at once reiterated his concerns, already stated at dinner, regarding Jane's health. Elizabeth assured him, as she had at dinner, that Jane was resting comfortably. Here she had new intelligence to report as she had snuck away to check on her immediately following the meal.

"I am encouraged," she continued. "I added a powder to aid with sleep to the fever tisane she took this afternoon and so flatter myself that this rest is the result of my skill and will be particularly restorative."

"It is a blessing that Miss Bennet has you, and of course Miss Mary, to care for her," Mr. Bingley declared with feeling.

"Did I hear you say you added something different to the powders you prepared for Miss Bennet?" Mr Darcy, with a reluctant looking Miss Bingley on his arm, had made his way to their part of the room.

"Indeed, you did, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth responded, looking up at him.

"I had thought your preparations differed this time," he told her with a smile.

Although they were appearing with more frequency, Elizabeth still found his smiles quite unsettling. She thought there were a number of explanations for this. It transformed his normally dour and serious visage quite remarkably. It rendered an already handsome face more handsome certainly. But, reluctantly, she was coming to believe that his smiles showed more truly his character than the more foreboding appearance. Perhaps this was simply wishful thinking.

"You are most observant," she answered, hoping her inner thoughts had not delayed her response notably. She needn't have worried overmuch. Mary and Mr. Bingley were occupied in their own discussion, Mr. Hurst was asleep on the couch and Mrs. Hurst engrossed at the piano. Only Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley had the opportunity to observe any possible lapse in concentration and each for their own reasons paid no mind to it.

"You will find that when the subject matter is of interest, I pay very careful attention and learn quickly," he responded.

"And herbal remedies and tisanes are of great interest to you?" she asked skeptically.

"No, they are not."

Before Elizabeth could form a sufficient rejoinder, Miss Bingley had a matter of pressing importance to discuss with him that she felt required their removal to the other side of the room. Though she had a book on her lap Elizabeth turned not a page for the remainder of the evening. What she did turn over were those four words of Mr. Darcy's. Over and over. What did he mean by them? What had he intended her to take from them?

Chapter 22

It was a short time later that Mr. Hurst finally prevailed upon his family to set up a card game, one of the few indoor pastimes he enjoyed. As they set up the table, placing chairs and dealing cards, Mr. Bingley inquired of the Bennet sisters:

"You will join us will you not?"

"Yes, please do," Miss Bingley seconded the request. "It is not Piquet after all and your younger sisters are not here to employ any nefarious schemes, so we are all quite safe."

"I would not wish to have our previous conversation misunderstood," Mary said earnestly. "We do not know Kitty and Lydia have done anything wrong. It would be unjust to besmirch their names when there has been no adjudication on their offense."

Elizabeth was proud of her younger sister. One year ago, she may have prejudged someone based on less evidence and cared little about how her words of judgment might have affected them or their reputations. Now she was bravely challenging someone older and better situated in society because she had gained new insight and grown in compassion.

"Well said, Miss Mary. I must say I appreciate seeing such loyalty in a sister," Mr. Bingley said, casting an inquiring glare at both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst who seemed to either not understand or be concerned with his meaning.

"Indeed," Miss Bingley seemed to concede, before adding, "although I don't know if loyalty without basis is an admirable quality and certainly young ladies must be careful about whom they give their devotion to. It can, easily, be given to those undeserving."

"I think loyalty is an admirable quality for anyone," Elizabeth was quick to point out.

"Perhaps, but young ladies must be careful what virtues they cultivate."

"I am not certain I understand your meaning," Elizabeth responded.

"Young ladies must be mindful of pursuing those accomplishments which will place them in good stead in the eyes of society and placing too much value on those traits which can be viewed as too . . . strident, too. . . . earnest may endanger this pursuit."

"Are you saying one cannot be loyal and accomplished?" Mary asked.

"I am saying that perhaps those who focus too much on certain character traits and activities fail to pay attention to the acquisition of accomplishments which should be considered important for all young ladies," Miss Bingley answered.

It was at this point that she achieved her true objective. Shortly after she had managed to separate Mr. Darcy from Miss Elizabeth Bennet he had declared his intention of writing a letter to his sister and none of her conversational volleys had thus far managed to engage him. After several attempts she decided to change tactics. As the card table was being set up and her brother invited the Bennets to play, she noted his raised head, but he did not completely desist in his activity. More direct action was needed and having noticed their spirited conversations Miss Bingley decided to try and draw him out in a like manner, with Miss Eliza as a sort of bait. She could not like the look in his eye as he lifted his head from his letter to give his attention to Eliza as she defended her sister, but Miss Bingley was determined to make the most of it.

"You place a great deal of importance on being accomplished," Elizabeth observed.

"Do not all ladies strive to be accomplished?" Mrs. Hurst asked with marked incredulity.

"I suppose that would depend on your notion of an accomplished lady?" Elizabeth re-joined.

Perhaps sensing the tension between the ladies and disliking anything that seemed like an argument Mr. Bingley offered his own very congenial opinion.

"It amazes me how young ladies find the time and patience to be so very accomplished – as they all are."

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles what do you mean?"

"Yes, all of them, I think. They paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all of this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy in response, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a screen. But I am far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished."

"Nor I, I am sure," Miss Bingley quickly agreed.

"That is very good of you to say, Mr. Bingley," Mary said. "Even if the others are correct, I think it a fine accomplishment to be able to look upon others with such cheer and willingness to see what is worthy and praise it."

"Do you agree, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked.

"That it is good to praise what is worthy?"

"That Mr. Bingley's list of accomplishments are praiseworthy?"

"I am sure that Charles' list is merely what is most commonly considered as accomplished for most young ladies," Miss Bingley offered with well concealed, but not quite imperceptible, eagerness. "No one can really be deemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing and the modern languages to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice. Her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved."

"Well, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy prodded.

"Am I to respond to Mr. Bingley's list or Miss Bingley's?"

"As you like," his answering smile was as disconcerting as always, but for the first time she had the notion that he knew this and intended it to be so. Determined not to show any distraction, she considered her answer.

"I do believe anytime a lady, or gentleman, seeks to improve themselves, that endeavour is praiseworthy."

"How very diplomatic," he said, sounding almost disappointed.

"Well, it is true, but that does not mean that some endeavours, or accomplishments, do not have more value than others and therefore might be considered more worthy of pursuit."

"Such as?" Darcy asked.

"I think we could all agree that fluency in Italian has more value than netting a purse? Or at the very least it takes more dedication to achieve. Therefore, it seems we should value it more."

"Exactly, thank you, Miss Eliza," Miss Bingley exclaimed. "There is an important distinction between common accomplishments and those of a truly accomplished woman."

"I do agree, but I would add or perhaps modify your list, Miss Bingley," Mary said. "Elizabeth is my idea of a truly accomplished woman. Though she lacks a number of items from both your list and Mr. Bingley's she has many others that I would deem of much greater importance."

"Mary," Elizabeth attempted to argue, but she was forestalled by Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, who both encouraged her sister to continue.

"Well," she resumed, "Elizabeth can neither net a purse nor cover a screen. Strictly speaking she has painted tables, but not quite in the decorative sense we are likely considering. Her playing and singing are lovely, though in truth she should practice more. She is an excellent dancer. She cannot draw a straight line, although she sits with the masters every time our father brings them to Longbourn – determined to improve herself. I think only so she can paint her passion for our home onto the canvass."

"And languages?" Darcy asked.

"I speak English so eloquently I think that is enough for me and everyone else." Elizabeth did not enjoy being the centre of attention in this manner. "I fear we are interrupting your card game with all of this talk of accomplishments."

"I am not playing and would love to hear more from Miss Mary about your accomplishments." That smile again. After aiming it at her, Elizabeth noted that Mary was now subjected to it and she was far from immune. Elizabeth could not blame her, it really was something to behold. Watching Mary stumble on her response produced an uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling in Elizabeth. "What are the accomplishments Miss Elizabeth possesses that are not on our list?"

"Mr. Darcy!' she protested, at the same time Mary began to answer.

"Her ability to balance our household accounts as well as those of the estate, her compassion and wisdom in dealing with our tenants, her proficiency with herbal remedies, her industry and her deep and abiding love of our family and home which provokes her, at times, to possibly unnecessary sacrificial . . ."

"Thank you, Mary. I think you have given our friends quite a glimpse of sisterly affection and partiality."

"Are you saying your sister did not tell us the truth?" Darcy asked.

"I would never fault Mary for always seeing the best in her sisters, myself most especially for whatever reason," she looked affectionately at her sister. "I could make a similar argument regarding her accomplishments." She looked innocently at Mary who began to object. Elizabeth turned a mischievous smile to Mr. Darcy and spoke over Mary's attempted protest.

"Mary meets the definitions set forth of a truly accomplished woman by all parties," she began. "She can net purses and cover screens and also paint tables. She does not enjoy any of these tasks, but she practically mastered them the summer before Jane came out and our Aunt Phillips and some other of the neighborhood ladies took it upon themselves to teach us. I don't think she has done any of these things in years, but that summer she was a master. Mary draws beautifully, is a lovely dancer and can play and sing like few others in the area. She practices much more regularly than I do. In addition, she speaks both French and Italian fluently and is currently learning ancient Greek from our father. I am told she is already proficient. In addition, she is quite capable with the account books, an able organizer on behalf of charitable causes – most especially our neighbourhood school. I could go on, but I fear Mary is already a quite unnatural shade of red."

"What say you, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked, drawing his attention. "Whose list do you think best describes a truly accomplished woman?"

Darcy seemed to consider this for a moment then said, "I think each of you has named certain accomplishments that I too value. A truly accomplished lady would add to all this something more substantial and intangible – loyalty."

With a raised brow at Elizabeth that seemed to challenge her to misunderstand him, Darcy regarded her evenly. She held his gaze for a moment before turning to the rest of the room to offer her response.

"I am no longer surprised at Mr. Darcy's knowing only six accomplished women," turning to him with a conspiratorial smile, she added, "I rather wonder at you knowing any."

"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?" Mrs. Hurst asked.

"That is not to say it is impossible. As I have just said, Mary is, I believe just such a woman, but I do believe it is hard to expect to see such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance and practicality united regularly among young ladies."

There was much indignant incredulity at this statement from the Bingley sisters, decrying the injustice of her doubt. They claimed to know many women who fit the descriptions. Very shortly thereafter Mr. Hurst had had enough of their inattention to the game and required their focus forthwith.

When Mary excused herself to check on Jane Mr. Darcy moved away from the desk and took the empty seat next to Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth, I would like to apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Darcy. You have already offered your remorse, doing so a second time is entirely unnecessary I assure you."

"While I appreciate your gracious acceptance of my apology this morning it is not that behaviour for which I am now apologizing."

"Then for what?"

"If it is not too great an imposition I would like to ask why."

"So you are apologizing not for past behaviour, but future?" She observed.

"I am afraid so." He looked sheepish yet determined.

"And you would like to know why I chose this particular gown this evening?"

"Miss Elizabeth," he began and then paused, seeming to consider his words carefully. "I truly would not wish to importune you, but with regard to your arrangement with Mr. Collins I confess to being . . . "

"Curious?" She filled in for him.

"Interested." He countered.

Elizabeth was certain Mr. Darcy could not mean what his statement implied, and she sat slightly dumbstruck and uncertain how to respond. She knew nothing good could come of this conversation and yet she longed to confide in him, thinking his wisdom and perspective could be valuable in settling her mind with her choice. However, such a conversation would be inappropriate and potentially confusing. She was more concerned with the latter than the former. She was not willing to take such a risk.

"Be that as it may," she responded, keeping her tone firm and her eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder, "this is not a topic I am willing to discuss with you."

"I understand, Miss Elizabeth," he responded in a tone which seemed to hold some meaning beyond a comprehension of her admonishment and boundary setting words.

Although she expected him to decamp from her presence after their exchange instead, he settled in for what turned out to be a long conversation about books and eventually family and their respective estates. If she revealed a great deal of her love for Longbourn and just what she might be willing to do to preserve and protect her home and family Elizabeth did not realize it.

When Elizabeth returned to Jane's room later in the evening, she found Mary asleep in a chair by their sister's bed. Jane was sleeping peacefully and a gentle hand to her forehead revealed her fever had not yet abated but was by no means worse. After rousing Mary she sent her to their room assuring her that she would spend the evening at Jane's side to keep the high fever at bay.

"I will send for some tea before the servants retire and hopefully will be able to get her to take some with the tisane shortly to ensure she sleeps through the night."

Shortly after midnight Jane took the medicinally laced tea and it worked its wonders. Several hours later, after resting intermittently in the chair which was wonderful for sitting and less so for sleeping, Elizabeth retired to her room.

Chapter 23

"You look significantly better this morning," Mary observed, as she and Elizabeth settled themselves into Jane's room. They had arrived shortly after eight o'clock and were pleased to find their sister awake and comfortably reading in her bed.

"I feel better. Elizabeth, your remedies are nearly miraculous," Jane said with a smile.

"I will happily take all the credit, however; you are still too pale, and I will not feel entirely at ease until you have eaten at least two solid meals without complaint."

"Very well, I am content to rest here until something can be sent up, but do you think, if I continue to improve, I could hope to join the rest of the party after dinner this evening?"

"Anxious to be in company with your Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth teased.

Jane blushed but did not deny the truth of it.

"Perhaps Jane would like to hear the latest with regard to your romantic life, Elizabeth?" Mary offered.

No longer surprised at her younger sister's propensity and ability to tease Elizabeth did her best to redirect the conversation several times without success before giving in to the inevitable.

"I am merely suggesting that Mr. Darcy's presence is providential."

"I agree completely," Jane said with as much enthusiasm as her poor health would allow.

Elizabeth had her own ideas about the presence of Mr. Darcy, but in the interest of shortening the conversation she did not share them. She merely nodded, pasted a, hopefully, conciliatory smile on her face and began mentally calculating the difference in rents this quarter with the reduction Kitty had offered the Wilsons due to the ongoing illness in their family. It would not be a heavy burden, but the true challenge would be finding enough hands to ensure that their crop was harvested in time . . .

"She is definitely not listening."

"I imagine she is solving one of the many problems presented to her in the letters she retrieved from home yesterday."

"When did you have time to review letters?" Jane asked.

"This morning before either of you arose. There was has been an interesting development with the transportation company Uncle Gardiner suggested we invest. . . ."

"Yes, yes that is all very interesting and you will tell us more when we meet this week to review our accounts and investments, but could we trouble you to pay some attention to this conversation that involves you and your future." Jane's voice was sweet but firm.

"My apologies," she said sincerely. "I did not mean to . . . what were you saying?"

"That it is clear you like Mr. Darcy a great deal," Mary told her, "why would you not take the time to consider what that might mean rather than rush to accept Mr. Collins, who we know you do not regard, but for his status as heir to Longbourn."

"Two years is hardly rushing," Elizabeth protested. "And I have tried to get to know Mr. Collins as more than simply the heir and you know that."

"Mary did not mean it as an accusation. We know you have gone to great lengths to see our cousin's best qualities and teach him about Longbourn and all of the other things that matter to you. It is admirable and done with the best of intentions, attempting to do right by everyone, except perhaps . . . yourself?"

Elizabeth looked between her sisters, knew they meant well, but their words, their kind-almost pitying smiles were not helping. Why could they not see she needed to take this one path so that they had the choice of many others, so that their home could continue to thrive and support the families that depended on it, so that their father could have the peace of mind that the idea of Mr. Collins had introduced years ago, so that she could have a life of use and meaning. It was not the love they spoke of in their childish daydreams and girlhood fantasies, but Elizabeth had come to see that her love for them, for Longbourn and for the purpose she had found was just as worthy a love to seek and sacrifice for and, disappointingly, she could not have both.

Half measures had not made her sisters understand. Protecting them only seemed to be hurting them, as much as they loved her, they imagined some way Elizabeth could find all the happiness they were still able to seek for themselves. Just as she determined to be thorough and entirely honest in her explanation this time, the Bingley sisters could be heard at the door. The next hour was spent in polite and not entirely uninteresting conversation. When Jane showed signs of fatigue the ladies left her to rest.

In the breakfast parlour they found the gentlemen having just arrived, filling their plates and speaking, animatedly, of the morning's sport. After inquiring after Jane's health, to which they were able to give a reasonably favourable report, the party settled at the table.

"It was a successful outing for you gentlemen?" Elizabeth asked Mr. Bingley, who had seemed especially pleased with himself when they walked in.

"It was indeed. I am finding the country quite exceeding my expectations. A few of our neighbours joined the expedition and I was delighted by the company. Your father among them. Were it not for your sister's illness I would be entirely content."

"I see," Elizabeth smiled at him. "It is not so much the sport that you are interested in, Mr. Bingley, but the company. I honour you for that. I am glad to have you in the neighbourhood and have no doubt I am not alone in that sentiment."

Mr. Bingley fairly blushed under this hardly lavish praise, but Elizabeth had already guessed that with sisters such as his he was likely not used to having his finer qualities named and had determined to do so at every opportunity. The approving smile she glimpsed from Mr. Darcy was a nice confirmation of the worthiness of her intentions.

Soon after the meal had been consumed and the party adjourned visitors were announced. They were ushered into the drawing room.

"May I present our cousin Mr. Collins?" Elizabeth performed the introductions, hiding her surprise and discomfort at the identity of this particular visitor. "Mr. Collins, may I present Miss Caroline Bingley, her brother Mr. Charles Bingley, her sister Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Hurst. And you know Mr. Darcy."

Bows and curtsies were exchanged with all the politeness and courtesy to be expected but Elizabeth did not miss the surprise of the Bingley sisters when she named the prior knowledge her cousin and Mr. Darcy had of one another.

"We apologize if this is an imposition, Miss Bingley," Kitty said after all the acknowledgements were through and the parties had taken their seats. "We had hoped to visit with Jane and our cousin could not resist the opportunity to meet our neighbours. We realize it is a little early for callers and that you already have guests."

The smile on his face as he beheld the room indicated that Mr. Collins did not hear the slight rebuke in his cousin's voice.

"It is not an imposition at all, Miss Kitty. It can hardly be supposed that Mr. Collins could be kept away when such a connection is so near." Turning to Mr. Collins she smiled at him and then turned to look between him and Elizabeth, "you can hardly be expected to have stayed away a moment longer with a temptation so close at hand." Miss Bingley's smile very closely resembled a sneer but only Mr. Collins was looking at her. Everyone else's eyes seemed to dart between that gentleman, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy (except for the Hursts, one of whom had already fallen asleep and one of whom smiled and nodded in agreement with her sister, looking happily at Mr. Collins). Elizabeth, though looking at the ground, was definitely growing red with either anger or embarrassment. Mr. Darcy's gazed was fixed on Elizabeth and he was fairly certain which emotion was winning, but not at all certain how to alleviate her suffering.

"Miss Bingley, would you be so kind as to take us to see Jane?" Lydia asked, rising abruptly and moving to the door as she spoke as if the answer was a forgone conclusion.

"Why, I would be . . ." Miss Bingley surveyed the room and seemed to determine there were enough safeguards between Eliza and Mr. Darcy to allow her to do her duty. "Of course, Miss Lydia." She, Lydia and Kitty swept from the room, Lydia casting one meaningful look at Mary before closing the door behind her.

Miss Bingley would soon learn not to underestimate the Bennet sisters.

"Mr. Bingley, would it be possible for you to show Mr. Collins the stables here at Netherfield? I do not mean to impose, but he has been learning so much about estate management over the years, he is the heir to Longbourn as you may know. One area he has always shown interest in, one where I am afraid Longbourn may fall short, is horses and horse breeding. I understand you have a number of impressive mounts."

Mr. Bingley possessed no guile whatsoever. Whenever he could bring pleasure he would do so. Therefore, his answer was as predictable as it was welcome.

"I would be delighted," he exclaimed fairly jumping from his seat. "Mr. Collins if you would like a tour of our stables let us begin right away."

"That would be wonderful, thank you Mr. Bingley. Cousin Elizabeth, I am certain, would also like to join us. She has a particular affinity for horses even if she is disinclined to spend to acquire more mounts and those of more refined breeding and pedigree. A lack we will no doubt remedy when a happy event . . ."

"Mr. Collins, I am sure you do not wish to detain Mr. Bingley," Mary interrupted, adding, "and while I have no doubt Elizabeth would love to join you, she is the only one who can turn the ingredients from Longbourn into the tisanes for Jane's fever. I am certain you understand."

Though looking as if he did not want to understand at all, after a moment's consideration, Mr. Collins expressed his admiration for Elizabeth's devotion to her sister, willingness to forgo an outing she undoubtedly would enjoy and promised to come back with stories aplenty. This goodbye took quite a while, but in the end the gentlemen left for the stables.

"Mrs. Hurst, did you recently express an interest in seeing how our remedies are made?" Mary asked the older woman who sat on the couch beside her sleeping husband.

Mrs. Hurst, who could not remember ever expressing any such interest, indeed who had no such interest at all, looked like a woman caught.

"I might be mistaken," Mary conceding with incredible graciousness. "They can take quite a while to produce and some are very labour intensive." She paused here as if waiting for an indication of interest. "I would not wish to keep you from visiting with my sisters, however; if that is your preference at this time."

The relief on Mrs. Hurst's face was evident, "Yes, exactly. I am afraid I may never be the kind of lady who is useful in a stillroom," the disdain for such ladies was perhaps discernible in her tone, "but I would very much like to entertain Jane and become better acquainted with your sisters if I may."

"That sounds lovely," Mary said, and Elizabeth thought she looked rather pleased with herself. Mrs. Hurst rose and Mary did likewise.

"Would you like me to show you and your sister a room where you may mix your potions?"

"That is not necessary. I am sure Mr. Darcy can show Elizabeth whatever she may need. I intend to accompany you to Jane's room."

Mrs. Hurst looked at Mary in surprise, opened her mouth, clearly intending to raise an objection, but what could she say? She surveyed the rooms only remaining occupants – Mr. Darcy, Miss Eliza and her sleeping husband. The knowledge that her sister would not be pleased did not give her grounds to alter an arrangement she seemed to have agreed to just moments earlier.

"Very well," she huffed. Though she could not object, she could pout.

"Shall I escort you to the kitchens to mix some additional tisanes for Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy asked once the other ladies were gone. He sounded willing, but skeptical.

"No thank you, Mr. Darcy even if Jane had need of more remedies, which she does not, I have no ingredients from which to create them."

"But you sister just said . . ."

"I think you will find, if you review the precise words Mary used, that she did not say there were any ingredients or any need, only that I am able to make the remedies, some remedies are difficult to make and you would be able to show me to place to make them. All of these things are true, and I have no doubt she intended certain conclusions to be drawn, but she did not, strictly speaking, utter any falsehoods."

A smile bloomed on Mr. Darcy's face as he seemed to draw his own conclusions from Elizabeth's words and she feared they were not only correct but could lead to more complications for her.

"To what end?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, trying to think of how to avoid this conversation entirely.

"It seems your very honest sister employed a level of subterfuge, perhaps aided by your other sister now that I consider it, that is likely unusual for her and I am left wondering what her goal was."

"Mary almost always achieves her ends, as does Lydia, so I suppose we must assume their goal was to remove the room's occupants. Perhaps I should go join them and see how Jane is doing." She rose.

"By all means if that is your desire," Mr. Darcy had risen as well. "However, your sisters went to great lengths to leave you here with . . . Mr. Hurst. It would seem a shame to thwart their very determined efforts. Unless you delight in overthrowing such schemes and would consent to a stroll in the gardens with me?"

There was that smile again. It was mischief mixed with vulnerability and not a small amount of interest and Elizabeth was certain he was intentionally letting her see all three in order to entice her to accept his offer.

"You are perceptive, Mr. Darcy, I do delight in overthrowing schemes." Though this time she could not bring herself to. "I would enjoy a walk."

She took his arm and told herself a walk was simply a walk. Normally she was fairly persuasive but at the moment she had a hard time convincing herself.

Chapter 24

They walked down a long hallway and arrived at the side door which led them to the east gardens. Although Mr. Bingley has not been in residence long he had already had workers tending to the paths. Where once they had been filled with the debris and brush of years of neglect, they were now open and clear. The trees and bushes had been trimmed and Elizabeth looked forward to spring when flowers and fountains might be added to the picturesque.

Given the nature of the subterfuge that initiated their sojourn and Mr. Darcy's increasing boldness in addressing personal matters that were generally not canvassed between acquaintances, Elizabeth half expected him to begin to interrogate her regarding Mr. Collins as soon as they were clear of the house.

He did not.

Apropos of the events that led them outside in an entirely different way Mr. Darcy began by inquiring about the nature of each of her sisters. Were they all prone to make trouble? She balked at the term, but he insisted on an answer. Which was - all but Jane of course! Who was most likely to get away with it? Lydia – both because of her intelligence and natural charm. Who were the most common collaborators in these acts of mischief? This one she had to give some thought. Alliances shifted and it had been years since there had been any real, or deep, antagonism among the sisters.

"I suppose Kitty and Lydia often ally as their ends are generally aligned and Mary and I will often work in concert, but I like to think we are not so much making mischief as accomplishing important work," she laughed as she said this because while this was true it was also true that neither she nor any of her sisters, even Jane, were opposed to mischief as long it was not at the expense of another – they often entertained each other with their practical jokes and such.

"Yes, and now please tell me – what is the most trouble you and your sisters have gotten into together?"

"Did I not just say we work together to accomplish tasks and also for the betterment of ourselves and those around us," she protested.

"It is not important work or any kind of betterment that is coming to mind now," he challenged. "Something far less serious and far more entertaining is putting that light in your eyes."

Elizabeth blushed and looked down, but not before taking in his smile – the full, bright and definitely provoking smile that he used but rarely. How could she resist? Though she kept their most scandalous tales to herself she did share a favourite story involving Sir William Lucas, a former tenant of Netherfield and a barrel full of rotten apples. If she had any hesitancy about revealing the culpability of the Bennet sisters in this erstwhile Hertfordshire mystery to Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth felt herself well compensated by the rich, heretofore unheard, sound of Mr. Darcy's laughter at hearing the tale. Elizabeth felt a shift as it turned to a sigh of amusement, knew where their congenial afternoon was headed.

"Tell me about your arrangement with Mr. Collins." His tone was gentle, but his gaze gave her no quarter.

Before she could form her answer, her non-answer, she was saved by . . . Mr. Collins. Not a phrase she ever thought would come to her mind.

Elizabeth and Darcy had reached a bend in the garden path which also had only low bushes on one side. That side was exposed to the stables where Mr. Collins and Mr. Bingley stood outside talking to Mr. Miles. When Mr. Collins noticed Elizabeth, he waved enthusiastically calling to her. He then led Mr. Bingley with him to the edge of the gardens to greet her and Mr. Darcy as though their separation had been weeks or months instead of minutes or an hour. She was then acquainted with Mr. Collins's plan to tour the stables and his enthusiasm for Mr. Miles's expertise and willingness to accommodate his questions and eagerness. By the time he had begun to expound on his desires for the futures of the stables at Longbourn they were met from another walk by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. It was reported that Jane had been well enough to visit with her sisters for a time but was once again resting. Subtly and effectively the Bingley sisters managed to maneuver themselves onto either side of Mr. Darcy by the end of the initial conversation among the party. Elizabeth saw what they were about but did not attempt to stop them, despite the pleading look she pretended not to notice from Mr. Darcy.

It was decided that the entire party would visit Netherfield's four-legged residents and their environs to admire the Bingley's mounts as well as the improvements Mr. Miles had already instituted throughout the stable and yard.

During the tour Mr. Collins seemed torn as to who was most deserving of his attention. There were a number of candidates. Mr. Darcy, of course, the nephew of his illustrious patroness. Mr. Bingley, his affable and gracious host. And always, always, Miss Elizabeth, his cousin and aspirational bride. Fortunately for Mr. Collins, and perhaps unfortunately for the others involved, one of his several, but not many, skills was flattery and he applied himself that afternoon. He was not quite obsequious, but also not quite sensible and in his efforts to flatter – the stable, the horses, her dress, Mr. Darcy's fine saddle, the indulgence in allowing him to linger, her shoes, Mr. Bingley's fine saddle, and so and so forth – he not only failed to achieve any actual conversation but prevented it among the group as well, since his compliments flitted so quickly between his three chosen targets.

Mr. Darcy observed how Elizabeth received the attention of Mr. Collins. Closely. He could detect no hint of peculiar regard, nor had he expected to. She did seem to intentionally remain at his side. What pained him was when he saw why. How she would smooth over his more effusive and awkward statements, almost always compliments, often with an eye toward himself or Bingley's sisters. Since he had become acquainted with her Elizabeth had always been confident, almost bold, but with Mr. Collins she became quiet and nearly apologetic in her attempts to make him seem, or even be, more palatable. Mr. Collins seemed like an ordinary man, if a little overly eager to please, but Mr. Darcy was quite used to those who did nothing but work to please him. In addition, unlike Elizabeth, he seemed more than pleased at the prospect of their union. A prospect he constantly alluded to and which allusions caused Elizabeth to constantly introduce new topics, exclaim at some new site (at one point it was a stack of hay) or redirect his attention. The half an hour spent in the stables with Bingley, his sisters, Elizabeth and Mr. Collins provided him with much to consider, but still left him with plenty of questions.

When the party emerged from the stables with the intention of taking a path along the fields to see several horses, Elizabeth decided to return to the house.

"If you will excuse me, I will go relieve Mary and see my other sisters off." With a smile she nodded to the assembled group and retreated down the path toward Netherfield. It was a short walk, no more than a quarter of an hour between departing from the group and arriving in Jane's room. Not enough time to reach any conclusions about the events, people and feelings evoked from the morning's activities. Though to be fair she did not put her mind to it for the entirety of that time. The contrast between Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy was obvious and painful. However, she reminded herself that she would not be presented with it outside of the occasional outing on this visit. Mr. Darcy lived far away in the north of England. Then she remembered Mr. Bingley and Jane and Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley and the potential and hoped for entanglements in that quarter and imagined welcoming, as Mrs. Collins, a married Mr. Darcy into her home alongside Jane and Bingley. After that she turned her mind to crop rotation and barn renovations.

Elizabeth found Jane awake, eating and feeling better when she arrived at her room. Her sisters related some of their conversation with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst with Jane attempting to smooth over mentions of rudeness or hints at the Bingley sisters attempts to root out more gossip regarding Mr. Collins or other general information which would prove the Bennets' inferiority. It seems the Bingley sisters were still eager to find ways to disparage their guests, but subtle enough that the ladies were left with no recourse but evading their impertinent questions.

"And now shall we discuss your impertinent behaviour?" Elizabeth asked – directing herself to the room in general, suspecting even Jane had played a hand in the morning's antics.

"Whatever do you mean, Elizabeth?" Lydia batted her eyes in exaggerated innocence. Elizabeth folded her arms and eyed each of her sisters with an expectant raised brow.

"We simply wanted you to have the freedom from Mr. Collins you had earlier sought and perhaps decide on our own that some time with Mr. Darcy might give you the clarity we believe you need." Jane told her, confirming her role in the conspiracy.

With a sigh of resignation Elizabeth regarded her sisters one by one. They were each equal parts endearing and exasperating. Even Jane. Her goodness and hope often caused her to take firm and surprisingly uncompromising stands – like now. But what they all wanted was her happiness as much as she wanted theirs and so she needed to be honest with them and stop their attempts to prevent the inevitable and help them accept things as they were, help them see her happiness would be achieved in her marriage to Mr. Collins, just not in the way they hoped.

If Elizabeth imagined that finally explaining all of her reasons for her planned acceptance of Mr. Collins would result in some sort of reluctant tearful acquiescence on the part of each of her sisters she found herself disappointed only minutes into her planned speech.

"That is absurd," Lydia interrupted. "You are essentially saying that Longbourn will fall apart without you and so you must marry someone you do not love, and now abandon someone else you might love, to continue to be mistress over our home. It is simply absurd. Run Pemberley if you must run something."

It was not the most important point that Elizabeth chose to address first, "I do not love anyone at all, Lydia," but she quickly moved on to that which most angered and upset her, "and I am certain you are intentionally misunderstanding my reasons. I do not think I am the only one who can successfully manage our home. Indeed, even now I only do so with the help of all of you. Do not imagine I am unaware of that. However, Mr. Collins and whoever he might choose instead of me do not have the same love, do not feel the same sense of obligation to our home, our land and our people. Despite my years of effort he still views Longbourn as a source of entertainment and income and I believe he learned this at the feet of his beloved patroness, it is not an uncommon view among the gentry and nobility, and so I do not think it can be unlearned given his reverence for her ladyship. He has even begun to talk of selling off land to support his dreams of larger stables and more horses. Longbourn would not be safe. And what of the Bennet family – what would become of us?"

Before Mary, Kitty or Lydia could counter her, Jane broke in again.

"You are more resolved than ever?" Jane asked in that quiet way of hers. "Mr. Darcy makes no difference?"

"Oh you all and Mr. Darcy!" she cried in exasperation. "He is a kind and handsome, intelligent man to be sure. But you can also be sure he is no suitor. I am beneath him in every way. Our family is . . . forgive me, Jane, it is not just that . . . we are unimportant, insignificant. Even without any hint of scandal I would not be someone he would consider. He would not have me even if I would have him. All meeting Mr. Darcy has done, all your schemes to place me in his company have done is demonstrate to me some of his very fine qualities in contrast to the man I must marry. So excuse me if I do not thank you for that."

Feeling the very unfamiliar sting of tears behind her eyes Elizabeth hastily quit the room.

Chapter 25

When she fled from their room Elizabeth was intent on escaping the thoughts of Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy her sisters insisted on pursuing with increasing frequency and ferocity. This plan was almost immediately thwarted. As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in the presence of one of these very gentlemen.

"Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Elizabeth," he greeted her, injecting a question in the way he said her name. They stood for a moment and though she lifted her eyes to his only briefly she felt his assessing stare and wondered what impertinent questions she would now be subject to. "I was just on my way to the library to finish a letter I must send in the morning. Would you care to join me? I know Bingley's selection is not . . . robust, however; you seem to have a mind that can find amusement or engagement in almost anything and so I have no doubt that there is something there that might entertain or engross you."

When she hesitated for a moment, he added, without any emphasis or special intonation at all, "Mr. Collins is in the drawing room with Mr. Bingley and his sisters."

Of course, that decided her.

"I will admit to the truth of your supposition about myself and books," she said to soften the blow of her choice, "I have no doubt I could find something either educational or amusing in the sparsest of libraries. However, I will have to postpone that exercise for another time. I will go to Mr. Collins, as he came to Netherfield with the intention of seeing me, I should not like to have him leave without spending some time in his company."

Without allowing herself another glance at Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth curtsied and made her way to the drawing room. Though she expected to be distracted by thoughts of Mr. Darcy during her visit with Mr. Collins and the Bingleys, she was not. It was, Elizabeth discovered, one benefit of having to work to thwart the near constant attempts of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to reveal personal, private and potentially unfavorable intelligence. Mr. Collins, suspecting nothing, was more than willing to answer even their most insolent questions. It took all of Elizabeth's focus, attention, wit and good humor to deflect the inquiries and connivances with a smile, a vague answer or a question of her own. A tense half an hour after she had arrived Lydia swept into the room to bid the residents of Netherfield farewell. Bingley inquired minutely regarding Jane's current state of health before he would allow them to depart. He was elated to learn that she continued to improve and hoped to join the party after dinner that evening. Elizabeth elected to walk her sisters and Mr. Collins to their carriage. Miss Bingley indicated it was already awaiting them – she had summoned it when they returned from their walk assuming the Longbourn party would wish to depart imminently.

Not much of substance could be said with Mr. Collins hovering, closely, by her side but Elizabeth attempted a rapprochement none the less.

"I know you always mean well," she said looking between her two youngest sisters. "I should not have spoken as I did."

"Miss Elizabeth, your words have been nothing but exemplary I assure you. You are always so well spoken, that it may be that others, not as well read as you or I, do not at times perceive your meaning," Mr. Collins replied earnestly. "Do not trouble yourself on that score."

"I thank you Mr. Collins," she said with a smile, not taking her eyes off of her sisters, "but sometimes we must assume the burden of making sure our meaning is entirely clear and while recently I may regret my manner of expressing it, I did mean what I said and hope my intent and purpose will be considered."

While Kitty nodded and even looked slightly chastised Lydia stepped closer to Elizabeth, delivering her response in whisper even as Mr. Collins helped Kitty into the carriage.

"I understand your meaning, Elizabeth, and I cannot quarrel with it, cannot quarrel with you and all your good intentions and selfless plans. But you just so you understand ours as well – we do not mean to allow you to sacrifice yourself for us or our home if there are any means by which we can prevent it."

With an innocent smile that completely belied the steely promise she just made, Lydia bounced into the carriage unaided, declining Mr. Collins's proffered hand.

"I bid you good day, Miss Elizabeth," he said with a formal bow. "I hope we will meet at Longbourn very soon."

Elizabeth stood there and watched the carriage make its ways down Netherfield's curved driveway, through its ornate gates, watched it turn to take the road through Meryton and stayed rooted to the spot when there was nothing left to watch – a question rumbling in her mind as the rumbling of the carriage wheels passed out of hearing.

Was there another way? Since she learned of the entail and how her father had refused to even meet with the elder Mr. Collins to discuss breaking it, she had never thought that the possibility remained. To her this would be the only path. If there was a way to break the entail, then her marriage would no longer be necessary. It was a heady thought. However, the only way to break the entail, as she understood it, was for her father and the heir to agree to do so. Mr. Collins was not technically the heir, only the heir presumptive, but he could, as his father could have, agree to waive his rights in that capacity – for certain remuneration. Mr. Collins had come to Longbourn so eager for a bride and Elizabeth had been convinced she could find in him a partner in running the estate, and had hoped in all things, that she had not thought to consider alternatives even as her hopes seemed less and less likely to come to fruition. She and Mr. Collins would not be a happy pair, but she refused to reexamine her choices or look for other options because she assumed there were none. What if? Maybe her refusal to dwell on that which did not bring joy had caused her to overlook certain possibilities. She set this course for herself, determined to make it work with Mr. Collins, but never revisited the idea of breaking the entail or some other legal redress. Paths she had begged her father to consider for years before the elder Collins died.

It did no good to dwell. She would have to wait until she returned home and could review the entail documents herself. She dared not discuss her ideas with her father, knowing his thoughts regarding her potential marriage to Mr. Collins, or Jane, knowing her sister's tender and hopeful heart. As was her custom, Elizabeth would need to keep her own counsel. Unless . . .

As she had hoped, he was still in the library.

"Mr. Darcy, am I interrupting you?" she asked from the doorway.

He looked up from his letter writing and smiled. It was a small, barely perceptible thing, but affected Elizabeth not only because of its contrast with his normal mien but because it seemed to be an expression he wore just for her.

"No, not at all. Have you come for that entertaining and engrossing book we discussed?"

"No," she said, moving into the room. "I have come to speak with you."

At these words she garnered his full attention. He put down his pen, turned to face her and seemed to eagerly await her next words. Elizabeth moved to sit in the seat closest to his desk.

"I find myself in want of some advice and it occurred to me that you, as an uninterested party," even as she said this word, she remembered how he had declared himself precisely the opposite only a day or two previously, still she pressed on, "and someone who might be familiar with the nature of the problem itself could be an ideal person to offer impartial and informed counsel."

"I would be happy to be of use to you, Miss Elizabeth," he responded sincerely.

Elizabeth thanked him and then found herself uncertain as to how to begin. She stuttered a few opening lines before laughing at herself and giving up for a moment.

"While I am eager to offer advice or assistance, I do not think I can make sense of any of that," he teased.

"And I do not think I can make sense of a teasing and smiling Mr. Darcy." Was her honest, if not particularly circumspect, response. Blushing at her own outburst, Elizabeth looked away, but not before catching the surprised look on her companion's face. "I apologize," she offered quickly.

"Please, do not," he said with a wide smile, one she had rarely seen, "I am pleased to know I can discompose the unflappable Elizabeth Bennet, though I wonder why a joke and a smile are able to accomplish such a feat?"

"Do you truly wonder?" she asked, finally raising her eyes to meet his once again. "The Mr. Darcy I first met was not prone to smiles and he certainly would not have been suspected of having a teasing nature."

"And your first impressions are implacable?"

"Not necessarily, however, they are certainly a guide to future interactions and perceptions. I find I am generally not surprised after gaining an initial sense of a new acquittance. They may be slightly more or less what I first believed them to be, but rarely are they entirely different."

"Am I entirely different?" He sounded almost insulted.

"You would not think this characterization an offensive one if you understood my first impression," she laughed.

"I can well believe it," he assured her, then in a more serious tone added, "I was not at my best at the assembly and there were reasons for my foul temper that had nothing to do with you or any of the other guests. However, that is no excuse. My behavior was unpardonable, and you have long deserved an apology. I offer it now."

He was such an odd mix of haughty and humble, self-assured and vulnerable, aloof and approachable. Elizabeth was not certain her first impression, that of a proud man who did not see the need to make himself agreeable to those beyond his circle, was entirely wrong. Only, there was certainly more to Mr. Darcy than she initially allowed.

"I do, of course, accept your apology Mr. Darcy, but I must tell you I find it unnecessary. I know you have long regretted your behavior from that night without your saying anything."

"How did you know?"

"You have been cultivating the good opinion of the neighborhood quite effectively over the past month. Perhaps, you do it solely on your friend's behalf, but it is clear your recognized that your actions at the assembly were not well received and you modified your behavior accordingly. That, more than words, indicates that you have repented."

"I do not do it solely for Mr. Bingley," he told her.

She nodded, accepting this. Then somehow, they spoke of a dozen other things until it was time to dress for dinner. None of them were Longbourn, the entail or Mr. Collins. Elizabeth did not realize how long she had been there until the dressing bell rang.

"I am sorry we did not return to the matter which brought you here in the first place," Darcy said as they rose and made their way into the hall.

"It was not entirely your fault," she told him. "I enjoyed our conversation."

That small smile again. It felt like a secret between them. But a secret she did not know yet.

"I did as well, but when you arrived you seemed somewhat distressed and if there is something I can do to alleviate your suffering I would like to be given an opportunity to do so."

When he put it like that, as if her seeking his advice was doing him some sort of favour, it was easy to agree.

"Very well, I would appreciate that. Shall we speak after dinner?" It seemed a good time. She would attend Jane down to the join the party and she imagined her sister's attention would be taken up by Mr. Bingley, but even if Jane required anything Mary would be able to see to her during the time it took Elizabeth to converse with Mr. Darcy.

"That might not be an ideal time for private conversation." Mr. Darcy seemed vaguely uncomfortable at this pronouncement. When Elizabeth looked to him to continue, assuming there was some sort of explanation to be had, he blushed slightly as he told her, "Miss Bingley does not seem to like to allow . . . she tends to prefer my company to be . . . I do not imagine we would have much time . . ."

"I see, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth stopped him with a laugh. "I quite understand."

He looked relieved. They had ascended the stairs and reached the point in the hallway where they needed to part to reach their respective rooms.

"I would not wish to intrude on the time you so kindly set aside to spend with our hostess each evening as it clearly means so much to you." With a mischievous smile Elizabeth turned to leave him.

"Indeed, I will not even dignify that with a response," he told her back as she continued down the hall," however I will ask you to walk out with me in the morning to allow us to continue or rather begin our conversation."

Elizabeth had reached the door to the room she shared with Mary. She turned. Mr. Darcy stood where she had left him. She smiled at him and wondered what affect her smiles had on him. Then she nodded and went into her room, thinking this might not be such a good idea after all.

Chapter 26

When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth and Mary left to get Jane and seeing her well guarded from the cold, attended her into the drawing room; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure. Elizabeth and Mary shared several glances which communicated well enough their amusement at the way in which their hostesses could, when it suited them, be so very agreeable. Their powers of conversation were considerable and while they were glad the sisters roused themselves on Jane's behalf they were not naïve enough to imagine sincerity lay beneath their efforts. As if to affirm this, as soon as the gentlemen entered Jane was all but forgotten. Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy and she had something to say to him almost before he had cleared the doorway. That gentleman, after a glance at Elizabeth seeming to ask for her commiseration for such attention, addressed himself to Miss Bennet with a polite congratulations on her progress toward recovery. Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;" but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation.

"Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you up and about. Please let me escort you to a seat closer to the fire. I would not wish for you to catch a chill on your first foray outside your room." The two moved to the sofa next to the fireplace which just so happened to be slightly secluded. Elizabeth and Mary shared a knowing glance. When she looked away, Elizabeth saw Darcy watching the couple as well. He looked . . . contemplative.

After Mr. Hurst unsuccessfully reminded his sister-in-law of the card table, she seemed to know Darcy had no intentions of playing and so tersely declined, the occupants settled into their respective activities. Without cards to entertain him Mr. Hurst fell asleep on the sofa. His wife chose a seat far from him and close to Miss Bennet and her brother where she proceeded to play with her bracelets and occasionally offer comments on their conversation. Miss Bingley found a seat next to Mr. Darcy and Mary and Elizabeth sat together on a sofa opposite them. Mary had brought her needlework while the others had their books.

It seems that though she professed great interest in her book, which was the second volume of Mr. Darcy's, Miss Bingley could not go more than a minute or two without making some comment to him or looking at his page. At length she gave up the endeavor and closed her book, gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! – When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."

After exchanging a small smile with Elizabeth at the mild absurdity of this, Mary made to answer, "A wise sentiment, Miss Bingley," she said. "An excellent library is something every house should hope to have and to share."

Miss Bingley paid no attention to this civil response. Instead, when hearing her brother mention a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said:

"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," Bingley responded," he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins – but as for the ball, it is quite as settled thing, as I told Miss Lydia earlier when she asked. I meant it. As soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards."

Before Miss Bingley could further her argument, whatever that might have been, Mr. Darcy had something to say in his own defense.

"If it is all the same to you, Bingley, I think I should like to attend rather than sulk in my room," smiling at Elizabeth he added, "it would allow me to show some, who might not believe it, that I do know how to conduct myself as a gentleman when dancing is the order of the day."

"Mr. Darcy how could anyone doubt your gentlemanly conduct?" Miss Bingley sounded truly scandalized.

Though still smiling at Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy answered this question, in a very serious tone, "I assure you, Miss Bingley, there are some who have had cause to question it."

"I agree with Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, this seems highly unlikely," Elizabeth said with a smile of her own directed at Mr. Darcy. "Are you not always the perfect gentleman?"

"Well of course he is," Miss Bingley answered for him.

"You of all people know this is not true," he answered. Despite Miss Bingley's interjections Mr. Darcy had yet to look away from Elizabeth, she broke their eye contact.

"I am not certain I do," she said, her tone light. "What do you think, Miss Bingley, your friend seems to believe he has acted less than the gentleman at times. Intimate as you are you must be able to tell us of his faults?"

"Upon my honour, I am not able. My intimacy has not shown me that. I have seen only gentlemanly behavior, I assure you, at balls, soirees, teas and any other venue where we happen to find ourselves."

"Well then, Mr. Darcy, it is settled. You are a gentleman, a gentleman without fault, it seems. That is an uncommon occurrence, and uncommon I hope it will continue. For it would be a great loss to have many such acquittances. Perfect people can be very tiresome and provide very little to laugh at and as you may know I dearly love a laugh."

"I would like you to remember I have made no such claims for myself," Mr. Darcy said.

"I will remember," she conceded, but then quickly added, "but I do not hear you offering up any flaws for my inspection in contradiction of Miss Bingley's claim."

"Do you think I am the best judge of my own character?" he asked.

"Perhaps not, but of those present who is better?"

Mr. Darcy looked about the room. Miss Bingley seemed at once eager and worried that she might be chosen for such a task.

"Bingley is one of my closest friends. Other than my cousins he likely knows me best. Bingley," Darcy raised his voice as that gentleman and Miss Bennet were involved in their own conversation and clearly uninterested in what was going on around them. When his friend looked up, Darcy continued, "Miss Elizabeth would like a list of my faults, if you don't mind. Miss Elizabeth, should he provide them to you alphabetically, chronologically or in order of importance?"

Though she had seen hints of a teasing and self-deprecating nature, this was simply too much. This Mr. Darcy was entirely too pleasant, too pleasing. . . too too many things. Elizabeth looked at him in wonder. He continued to regard Mr. Bingley, clearly awaiting an answer. Bingley had let out a great laugh at Darcy's words, but then seemed to give the mater some serious thought.

"Well, I am afraid now that you have expressed your willingness to dance, I have no objections at all," Bingley said with his typical smile.

"You are no help," Elizabeth said to Mr. Bingley. "Everyone is insisting on your perfection, Mr. Darcy. I fear I may have to believe it and discount the possibility of a friendship with you as a consequence unless you tell me yourself what amusing foibles I might have to look forward to from you."

"You would mock someone who has tried to avoid fault and folly in pursuit of your own amusement, Miss Eliza?" Miss Bingley challenged.

"Of course not, Miss Bingley. You are right. I will concede the point." Elizabeth said with an indulgent smile at her hostess. It seemed that with his admirer present, even good-natured teasing of Mr. Darcy would not be permitted, and so Elizabeth gave up and returned to her book. She did not see the look of disappointment on Mr. Darcy's face before he too resumed reading. Instead of taking up her book Miss Bingley returned to the task of soliciting Mr. Darcy's opinion, thoughts and feelings on various ideas that occurred to her, seemingly every few moments. At length Darcy, with little or no evidence of exasperation, requested she indulge them with some music. Moving to the piano-forte with alacrity Miss Bingley asked her sister if she minded waking Mr. Hurst only a moment before her fingers landed on the keys.

After a few notes Mary put her work down and told Elizabeth she thought Jane needed to return to her room. After some conversation with their eldest sister this was determined to be the wisest course though two of the room's occupants looked decidedly dejected at this turn of events. Mary assured Elizabeth she could see Jane settled, including mixing her tea and that she might return if it seemed prudent.

Mrs. Hurst joined her sister at the instrument for several more songs. When the ladies were through Mr. Hurst, newly rested and unusually belligerent, insisted a card table be established. Bingley was typically compliant, and Mrs. Hurst felt compelled to indulge her husband. The only question was - who would be the fourth. Miss Bingley had a definite plan for that. It answered all her desires for the remainder of the evening.

"Miss Eliza I would not dream of depriving you of the pleasure of a game," she said sweetly.

Realizing she was cornered; Elizabeth closed her book and approached the table. The players needed a fourth and it would be rude to decline. She did not particularly wish to play at present, but neither did she mind. Cards could be an enjoyable pastime.

"I thank you for your consideration. . ." before she could finish Mr. Bingley interjected with his own idea. "I apologize for interrupting, Miss Elizabeth, but your sister did mention you are not particularly fond of cards, though you play often for their benefit. I would not have you sacrifice here when you are our guest. Caroline will be our fourth."

With that he nodded to Louisa who, though she looked troubled at this turn of events, followed what seemed to be her brother's unspoken command and began to deal the cards. After a moment's hesitation Elizabeth moved away from the table and resumed her seat. Once the card game had begun Darcy, who had remained silent, seated and seemingly absorbed in his book for the past half an hour, rose and came to in front of her.

"May I?" he asked, indicating the seat beside her. Elizabeth nodded her assent and Mr. Darcy sat down.

"Have you come to confess your faults?" she asked in hushed tones.

"I think I have decided you must discover them yourself."

Elizabeth laughed lightly at this. It was clever and implied that she would have time with him that would allow such discovery. She chose not to point this out, afraid of what he would do with such an observation. Instead, she began a discourse on the book she had begun reading. It was a fairly dense account of the life of Oliver Cromwell. Not the best she had read, but it was a topic that interested her and certainly one that could keep them busy for the hour and a half the others played cards.

When he noticed the card game breaking up Darcy interrupted Elizabeth's speech about Cromwell and the Irish.

"Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth," he said softly, looking toward Miss Bingley who was even then rising from her chair. There could be no doubt as to her destination, "I simply want to confirm our morning."

"Yes, thank you," she replied, remembering her desire to seek his advice. "Would eight o-clock be convenient?"

He nodded and then his attention was required elsewhere.

Chapter 27

Elizabeth had spent a peaceful night beside Mary in their shared room and woke up quite well rested. The previous evening when she had checked on Jane prior to returning to her own chamber she was pleased to see her sister sleeping and imagined that that might portend a return to Longbourn by the following afternoon.

"Where are you hurrying off to?" Mary asked from her seat by the window. She had taken up her needlework after checking on Jane when the sisters had first risen. "That is your favorite dress, and your hair looks quite becoming." There was an air of teasing in her sister's tone that told Elizabeth Mary knew very well who she was going to meet, though she could not imagine how.

"I am not hurrying anywhere and while I want to thank you for the compliments, they seem laced with something so I will simply bid you good morning," Elizabeth rose, grabbing her bonnet and gloves from the table by the door. "I do plan on having some tea sent up to Jane in about an hour and coming to check on her before I go in to breakfast. Will you still be here?"

"Likely. We can go down together. You are certain you do not mind my leaving this morning?" Mary asked.

"There is no reason for you to miss your appointment with Mr. Cawley and Mr. Bates. I can see Jane home."

"Very well, enjoy your, I'm sure entirely solitary, walk and I will see you shortly."

Elizabeth smiled indulgently at her sister, but refrained from answering her unasked question, kissed her on the forehead and went on her way. She was met by Mr. Darcy at the end of the hallway.

"Good morning, sir."

"Miss Elizabeth, what a pleasant surprise," he said with a smile. "Would you care to walk out with me? It is unseasonably warm this morning and there are several pleasant paths around the house."

"What a nice idea. I would love to."

It was a warm and sunny morning and the two walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. When a bend took them out of view of the house Darcy spoke:

"Given our history with interrupted conversations perhaps it would be wise to begin with what was on your mind yesterday. I am eager to be of service to you if I may."

With that invitation Elizabeth began to explain to Mr. Darcy the broad and fine details of the entail of Longbourn. He listened attentively, asking questions and encouraging her to convey as much information as she could. By the time she finished he was nodding and making sounds which seemed to indicate to her that he was considering her words and reaching some sort of conclusion. When he did not immediately speak, she grew impatient.

"Well? What do you think?"

"I imagine presently my thoughts are not that different from your own. If your father had approached the elder Mr. Collins it is possible he might have been amenable, but it is also possible that you could have found yourself in the same situation you are now."

"Because the elder Mr. Collins could not sign away his son's rights as a potential heir," she finished for him. "Yes, I had only recently worked that bit out and I did not like how it removed a little, just a little, bit of my right to my anger at my father."

"I wouldn't say that," Darcy said with a scowl reminiscent of the night they met – all his expressions looked fierce and forbidding that evening. "Your father has not taken seriously enough his duties to you, your estate and your family . . . too much has been left to you and now you feel no choice but to . . ."

Realizing that Mr. Darcy's conclusions were likely gleaned not simply from their conversations, but from speaking to others in the neighborhood Elizabeth thought for a moment before responding.

"Mr. Darcy, I have chosen to be what I am, to do what I do and while I know it might seem unconventional I have found meaning and purpose in running the estate, in managing our tenants and expanding our farms in ways I had not in needlework, or drawing or visiting or whatever else I was told I was allowed to do. Longbourn has thrived under my care and I will not have you belittle my . . ."

"I did not mean to offend," he offered quickly.

"Your intentions and their effect seem to have little relation to one another at times."

"So I have learned," he mumbled. But she heard him. "What I should have said was you deserve credit, but even though it is perhaps an unwelcome sentiment I cannot help but feel you also deserve more support from your father."

Though her first instinct, always, was to defend her father to others Elizabeth bit back her initial response and allowed herself to feel the compliment and support in his words. However, she still felt she needed to justify her father, somewhat.

"I understand how it appears and I will not deny I came to my role out of necessity at first. However, in the past few years my father has come to regret his neglect and make what amends are available to him."

It was as much explanation as she could offer someone so wholly unconnected to her family even if he had become a new friend to her. Though he now knew some details of the entail this did not mean she was willing to share the financial situation of Longbourn, the old and new state of she and her sister's dowries, the property added to the estate, free of the entail, or other ways her father had exerted himself to improve their situation.

"I will take your word for it." His tone suggested he would not.

"Simply because the role the originated in necessity does not mean the need continues to exist. My father recognizes both my desire and my abilities. Can you not accept that?" she did nothing to hide the anger or challenge in from her voice.

"Of course," he nodded, and she felt he was conceding her point, a little, and decided to leave it at that and return to the matter at hand. "Do you have any thoughts pertaining to the entail?"

"Other than the solution you are quite obviously considering?"

"Mr. Darcy, you are coming perilously close to a subject I believe I have made clear is not one I am willing to discuss with you," her voice was firm, and she held his gaze, allowing him to see her resolve before continuing, "if you are unwilling or unable to help me, I accept that but please do not mistake my seeking your assistance for my willingness to discuss . . . certain other matters."

"My apologies." Again, she sensed a half-truth in his words. In this case she imagined he was sorry for having offended her but not sorry for actually trying to speak of something he wanted to know more about from her. "Again, my thoughts likely align with your own. Would the current Mr. Collins be amenable to some kind of financial remuneration in exchange for repudiating his claim? If he were, would you not then have the same problem with any potential children of his, should he have any sons?"

"Yes exactly," she responded, somewhat listlessly, before continuing, "I would need to examine the entail itself to determine if there is any way to sever the entail entirely and to ensure any documents were drawn up in such a way as to ensure they could not be disputed later."

"If your father would permit me, I would be happy to bring the entail document to my man in London who could render us an opinion."

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said gratefully. "However, I am afraid that would not be possible. I do not wish my father to know I am attempting any of this."

"And why is that?" When she hesitated, he pressed, "would answering that bring us perilously close, once again, to a forbidden topic?"

Elizabeth glared at him and considered her answer. Mr. Darcy already had a poor enough opinion of her father and she was certain his opinion of Mr. Collins was considerably worse. If he believed Mr. Bennet was forcing his daughter into a marriage of convenience to save his estate, there would be no redemption for him at all in Mr. Darcy's eyes. She could not allow that. Not stopping to consider why it mattered so much that Mr. Darcy think well of her father she said:

"My father cares for my happiness and that of my sisters. He is also responsible to see to our security and that of Longbourn. He believes all of this can be achieved through my marriage. Any indication . . . "

Mr. Darcy looked at her for a long moment, seeming to take in her words very carefully.

"Very well, but how do you suggest we gain a better understanding of the entail without examining the document?"

"I believe I can rely on the discretion of my uncle Phillips. He is a solicitor in Meryton. It may be that the document is already in his possession. If not I will ask him to request the document from my father under some pretext."

"I have met your Uncle on several occasions, Miss Elizabeth," he said with some exasperation, "and I do not approve of deception."

"I do not require your approval, Mr. Darcy," she said without rancor. "As I was saying, once he is in certain possession of the document, I will meet and discuss this idea with him. If he believes it possible, we may have need of your London man. May I seek you out if that is the case?"

"Of course," he replied almost dismissively, "but I would prefer to be part of that meeting with your uncle."

"Why?"

"Three heads are better than two?"

It wasn't the most persuasive or comprehensive argument, but Elizabeth was grateful he wanted to help and imagined he would have insight and perspective that she and her uncle might not. Further, she knew there was more to the creation of the entail than her uncle had told her (which was certainly more than the nothing her father had told her but was still not much) or than he knew himself so, perhaps, the intimidating and interested presence of Mr. Darcy would encourage disclosures where previously little had been offered to her. Of course, it was just as likely the presence of a stranger would cause her uncle to be more circumspect, but he could not tell her less than he already had so she deemed it worth the risk.

"Very well."

His smiling response seemed out of proportion to the concession, but Elizabeth had little time to contemplate this as they had reached the house once again. Almost as soon as they crossed the threshold, they were met by an eager and, possibly, irate Miss Bingley.

Chapter 28

Over the course of the morning and afternoon it became apparent that Miss Bingley had learned her lesson. Prior to their departure Elizabeth was never again left alone with Mr. Darcy. Her commitment was absolute, but fortunately for her, was not called upon for long as the Bennet sisters deemed Jane ready to depart for home shortly after noon. Though Jane would have liked to spend more time in Mr. Bingley's company she would not impose on her neighbors when her health allowed her to return to Longbourn.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Bingley," Jane said as her sisters attended her outside to their awaiting carriage. "My apologies that we had to trespass on your kindness for so long."

Now that the Bennets were mere moments away from departing Miss Bingley was her most gracious self.

"Think nothing of it," she replied with a smile. "It allowed us all a chance to get to know one another and I for one am grateful for that. I look forward to many more occasions when the ladies of Netherfield may host those of Longbourn."

"You are too kind, Miss Bingley," Jane said sincerely, before turning to that lady's brother with a bright smile, which was returned in equal measure. No words were exchanged, but this should not be understood to mean that nothing was communicated. After a reminder from his sister to do so, Mr. Bingley handed Miss Bennet and then Miss Mary into the carriage. Before he could perform the same office for Miss Elizabeth Mr. Darcy stepped forward.

"Miss Elizabeth, I shall miss our conversations." His back was to the others. While his voice was devoid of emotion Darcy's eyes were soft and held the smile that his lips refused to show.

"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Darcy," she answered, then lowering her voice she added, "though I am sure you will not lack for companions." With a glance at Miss Bingley, she climbed into the carriage on a laugh. When she slid into the window seat, she saw Mr. Darcy looking at her shaking his head, Miss Bingley, having already attached herself to his arm was, by all appearances, chattering away quite happily.

The Bennet ladies were welcomed home enthusiastically by their father, Mr. Collins and their sisters. Jane was duly fussed over by Hill and Kitty who insisted she retire to her room despite her protests of being all but recovered. The family spent the remainder of the day quietly at home together. Mr. Collins delighted in Elizabeth's company and as she attempted to enjoy his she was reminded of all the ways her cousin could make himself agreeable when he chose.

The next morning the entire family went to services together. Charlotte and John Lucas greeted them afterward with a congratulations to Jane on her recovery.

"I am so happy to see you well," John said with a jaunty smile and exaggerated bow.

"Thank you, John," Jane replied with a bright smile. Charlotte took her friend's arm and they began to speak in low voices of some private matter.

"It is a pleasure to see you once again, Miss Lucas," Mr. Collins said from Elizabeth's side, a post he had not left since the family arrived for services an hour earlier. At points this vigilance proved trying. While his singing voice was not terrible, Elizabeth could have done without his constant commentary on their vicar's sermon. Elizabeth always found Mr. Cawley's words inspiring and even took notes when something in particular struck her. This practice was made all the more difficult when her seatmate could not let more than a minute or two go without some observation, criticism or analysis.

They exchanged pleasantries as Mr. Collins inquired after the Lucas family, who were not at service that morning, no private conversations were now possible. When Miss Lucas asked after Lady Catherine and Miss De Bourgh, as was only polite, Mr. Collins's answer was as long as it was enthusiastic. Though Elizabeth was alert, looking for an opportunity to escape a conversation which included information she was familiar with and platitudes she had heard ad nauseum, every time she turned to remove herself Mr. Collins would pose a question to her or look at her for confirmation of something. And that is how Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley found her, Charlotte and Mr. Collins still speaking, of Rosings and her ladyship, long after the service had ended and most of the other families had left for home.

"Mr. Collins," Miss Bingley said in greeting, "it is good to see you again. Miss Lucas, Miss Eliza."

What followed was more of the same, except Mr. Collins had an accomplice. The praise for Lady Catherine was not quite as verbose and fervent as it had been when he first came to Longbourn, but it was close. Miss Bingley seemed quite eager to keep that gentleman talking about her ladyship, Rosings Park and most especially his readiness to bring home a bride to his parsonage, whose grounds, he was happy to share, bordered his humble garden and which could be seen from that very place through a break in the trees. Were it not for the prospect of one day having to call Mr. Collins husband and become mistress of the very place they were discussing Elizabeth might have found his enthusiasm endearing and the whole situation amusing. John, who had initially encouraged Mr. Collins's ridiculousness as well, noticed Elizabeth's discomfort and ceased. He could not find a polite way to stop him, however. Were it not for Mr. Darcy's discerning gaze, Miss Bingley's condescending one and Charlotte's sympathetic squeeze of her arm Elizabeth might have been able to find a witty way to redirect the conversation. As it was, she found herself unusually silent and wishing one of her sisters would notice her distress and come tell her she was needed elsewhere.

Elizabeth's wish was granted. Mary came to claim her sister, insisting she was needed to help see Jane home as the rest of the family had already left while Jane had stayed to speak with Mr. Bingley and the Hursts.

"Of course, Mary. I will join you presently." Elizabeth turned to the group and excused herself quickly, lest her cousin decide his duty to her exceeded his duty to finish his tale of her ladyship's goodness.

Mary and Elizabeth joined the others and in observing her sister's happiness Elizabeth forgot her own troubles for a time. Jane and Bingley were so clearly enamored of one another it was a delight, for anyone who loved them, to simply be part of a mundane conversation with them. Watching Mrs. Hurst's small smile as she silently looked between Jane and Mr. Bingley Elizabeth thought perhaps she had misunderstood the eldest Bingley. After letting the conversation go on for some time Mary and Elizabeth exchanged a look and, after waiting for the right moment, made to interrupt the very amiable dialogue.

"Jane, I believe we must leave for home," Elizabeth said. "We do not want to exhaust you on your first day out of doors and amongst company."

"Of course," Bingley agreed, quickly. "Please forgive me for not considering your health in my eagerness to . . . I apologize for keeping you. Allow us to see you home in our carriage."

Elizabeth and Mary once again exchanged a look. This time it was one of amusement and it was all each of them could do not to laugh out loud at this obvious display of concern and affection.

"Mr. Bingley, please, we meant no criticism," Mary assured him. "Jane is generally able to let us know when she requires rest, but when the company is particularly good, she occasionally requires a reminder."

While a blushing Jane attempted to decline the offer of the carriage her sisters urged her to accept, though they declared themselves equal to the walk – not wanting to overcrowd Mr. Bingley's conveyance. By this time Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins had joined them.

"It is no trouble for Darcy and I to walk," Bingley insisted.

"That is not necessary, Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth answered, eager to secure Jane more time with him. "Mary and I are quite used to the short distance.

"And truthfully, Elizabeth is not quite herself until she has traveled a few miles on foot," Mary said with a smile. "We are grateful for your willingness to see Jane home."

The entire party moved toward the Bingley carriage and, beginning with the Bingley sisters, they said their goodbyes and alighted. After Mr. Hurst settled beside his wife, Darcy offered the final open seat to Mr. Collins.

"You would be doing me a favour, sir," he assured the gentleman. "I am inclined to walk, and this will provide me the perfect excuse."

Faced with the prospect of being of service to Mr. Darcy and avoiding a two mile walk Mr. Collins happily complied. Not everyone inside the carriage was pleased with the final occupant but as the door closed behind him and Bingley tapped on the roof to signal their readiness to travel – off they went in the direction of Longbourn. Mr. Darcy turned to the remaining Bennet sisters.

"Shall we?"

The path admitted three and so they walked together and enjoyed a conversation about a variety of topics such as is possible between those who know each other well and those eager to know each other better. Elizabeth and Mary pointed out several places along the way that led to favorite vistas or local sites that they enjoyed.

"Though we all enjoy the many lovely paths and trails all around us and have traversed them and been rewarded with the best views and even ruins our county has to offer, it is Elizabeth who would be able to best direct you to the ones most worthy of your limited time," Mary said as they discussed local places for the Netherfield party to visit.

"You are reputed to be an excellent walker," Mr. Darcy said, turning to Elizabeth. "Has this turned you into a noted tour guide as well?"

"It simply means that I have, likely, encountered most of what our little piece of England has to offer because I am always walking about. I have stumbled upon views and sites that have perhaps gone undiscovered for some time and I do delight in sharing them. Though I confess of late I have found myself less able to walk for pure enjoyment."

"Because your tasks at Longbourn prevent you?" He asked.

"At times, but it is more that I cannot seem to walk without leaving the mindset of mistress of Longbourn behind. When I notice the slope of the land it brings to mind drainage or I find myself wondering, when I see a stone wall, if I have adequately inspected all of Longbourn's recently. The sounds of my favorite brooks bring to mind irrigation and the site of animals, consideration of their utility and use of resources."

Mr. Darcy nodded, seemingly in understanding though he did press her to name the places she visited most often, the paths she frequented regularly. She told him of these. No one commented when he continued with them toward Longbourn when they reached the crossroads which required a divergent path to travel to Netherfield. A little less than an hour later they arrived at the Bennet's home to find the Bingley carriage in the drive and the party in the drawing room with the youngest ladies of the house.

"Caroline insisted we wait for you," Bingley told Darcy as the newcomers entered. "She was sure you would escort the ladies home and did not want you to have to walk all the way to Netherfield after what she imagined would be a taxing walk from church."

"How thoughtful," Elizabeth said, looking at Mr. Darcy with laughter in her eyes, turning back to Miss Bingley she added, "Mr. Darcy did seem to tire significantly during the latter half of our sojourn, even going so far as to threaten withdrawing his arm, which I of course was pretending to require for support."

"Mr. Darcy, I must apologize for my part in necessitating your journey . . ."

"Miss Elizabeth is only teasing, Mr. Collins," Darcy said in an attempt to reassure the suddenly nervous gentleman. "I enjoyed the walk quite thoroughly and can promise you that it was only the company, well the company apart from Miss Mary, that could be described as taxing."

"How very ungentlemanly," Miss Elizabeth declared as she prepared two cups of tea. Mr. Collins looked entirely uncertain about what to do with this exchange, but seeing that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth seemed perfectly content, smiling at one another as they spoke, he chose not to inquire further.

After she handed him his teacup Mr. Darcy followed Elizabeth to a sofa on the far end of the room and the two took seats together, one pretending not to and one really not noticing that Miss Bingley has risen upon their entry, clearly ready to leave. This seemed a satisfactory arrangement to nearly everyone else. Mrs. Hurst was speaking of fashion to Kitty and Lydia who were eager listeners, peppering her with questions about all of the latest London trends. Mr. Hurst had found a very comfortable chair and footstool which allowed him to slip into a comfortable sleep after he had enjoyed several delicious cakes. Of course, Jane and Bingley could not have been more delighted to continue in one another's company, but they did not require solitude and invited Mary to join them. Mr. Collins seemed uncertain as to what to do with himself and though his preference might have been to sit by Elizabeth there was no seat near her that served this purpose and so he chose to remain where he was, beside Miss Bingley. Though the rest of the groupings appeared quite satisfactory theirs was perhaps less so, to both parties.

Chapter 29

Though the majority of the party was arranged to everyone's satisfaction, it came to pass that the one very unsatisfied party dictated an early end to the pleasant afternoon. Miss Bingley reminded Jane of her recent convalescence; she was so concerned. She seemed to remember Elizabeth had recently professed a desire to review her correspondence, hadn't she been expecting to hear from a particular friend? Elizabeth barely had time to be surprised at Miss Bingley having heard anything she had said the previous day before that lady was telling Mr. Darcy that they should return soon or he would not be able to exercise Zeus, who had in fact been confined for two straight days had he not?

It was very neatly done and those who most wanted to object were left with no real objections. In victory Miss Bingley was quite gracious, paying her compliments on the hospitality of Longbourn, wishing Jane a swift recovery and once again expressing her desire for many more visits between the houses. Short ones, Elizabeth amended in her mind . . . and possibly without the gentlemen of Netherfield.

The remainder of the day was spent as Miss Bingley directed. Jane resting, Elizabeth at her letters and Mr. Darcy riding. Perhaps she had not thought that last one through as she did not see the gentleman until dinner. However, she made the most of it. As she always did.

"How pleasant it is to have one's house to one's self again," she declared as soon as they had all seated themselves around the table.

"While I will not deny that I greatly enjoy the present company," Bingley answered, "I confess I miss our guests. They added much to the conversation."

This was not how Miss Bingley intended the dinner discussion to proceed and so she promptly took it back in hand canvassing topics sure to please the one guest she hoped most to impress and the one guest whose mind was most fully three miles away.

Mr. Darcy tried very hard to participate in the dinner repartee as much as he ever did. Which thankfully was not a high bar. However, reflecting on it later that evening he admitted to himself that he may have even failed at this. Had he only Miss Bingley's disappointed looks he would not be able to tell for certain, she often looked disappointed in his presence as he was rarely able to muster the enthusiasm she desired for . . . almost anything. No, it was the fact that he had almost no recollection of anything discussed at all that told him he had been a poor guest. Mr. Darcy prided himself on displaying proper etiquette at all times, in all things and so this realization bothered him a great deal. Though, truth be told, not as much as his inability, despite considering it all through dinner, to come to any decisions regarding one Elizabeth Bennet.

Long since having admitted to himself that he now considered her the most handsome, amiable and intelligent woman of his acquaintance Darcy had only recently begun to realize that these considerations were not factual calculations, but conclusions very much connected to his affection for her. Affection he had not intended to feel. Affection he could now not remember not feeling. When had he begun to fall in love with Elizabeth Bennet and was he now too far down that path to turn back? Because the logical side of him acknowledged that despite her manifest charms and admirable qualities she was not the lady, not the kind of lady, he had been raised to marry, he had always expected to marry. With these thoughts came others. Before Elizabeth, he had often thought of marriage. As the master of a large estate this was unavoidable. However, he had never pictured a wife precisely. He imagined children who would carry on his name, a mistress, faceless and silent, who would run his home and a reprieve from the incessant demands on him to do his duty. When he thought of Elizabeth he did think of children, but their continuing the Darcy-line played no part in this fantasy. No, he pictured a dark-haired girl, eyes sparkling with mischief or a son holding his mother's hand as she shows him her favorite pathways around Pemberley. One of the first things that drew him to Elizabeth was her competence as mistress of her home, her knowledge regarding estate matters and her concern and compassion for the people of Longbourn. But when he imagined her as mistress, and he did, it was not tenant visits and staffing decisions he pictured, but her making his house a home again, having someone to consult on anything and everything, hosting balls again – balls? It was here he questioned his sanity. It was the idea of duty that still brought him up short. Ever before, thinking of marriage was thinking of duty. By marrying Elizabeth would he not in fact be shirking that duty in some ways? Duty he had been raised to shoulder, to embrace as his birthright. Duty that he had accepted fully since that awful fall morning more than six years ago. When he imagined marrying Elizabeth Bennet duty didn't enter into it at all. Not simply because he feared he was not fulfilling his, but because marrying her was a desire, a want, almost a need He had never experienced those feelings with regard to matrimony before. No closer to a resolution Darcy courted sleep but as the hours moved forward, he was as successful at this as he had been at attempting to find peace and clarity with regard to one Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Monday at Longbourn saw the family returning, for the most part, to their routines. Elizabeth rode out early to inspect some fencing and so that she could be on hand to take delivery of a new threshing machine. Jane, though almost fully recovered, spent the day quietly at home and was entertained by her family and several visitors from the neighborhood. Mary was from home in the afternoon, as was her custom on Mondays. Each Bennet sister took a day of the week to volunteer at the school. They taught as they were needed, as they were able. It being harvest season Mr. Bates held classes early in the morning and late in the afternoon so that the children who were needed in the fields could attend and did not fall behind. Lydia had lessons in the morning and Kitty, as she often did, joined her youngest sister as she enjoyed both the learning and companionship the time offered. Mr. Bennet checked in on each of his daughters over the course of the day ending with Elizabeth whom he met in their study to review some accounting matters and so that she could exclaim over the threshing machine to the one person in the family who might listen with any measure of enthusiasm.

Though she had attended to some correspondence the previous day, Miss Bingley had been prescient in her concern over Elizabeth's letters, Elizabeth had not sent the note she had been contemplating since her conversation with Mr. Darcy at Netherfield. This she did on Monday morning before setting off for the fields. Her uncle replied promptly and by that afternoon it was established that the two would meet at his office the following day at two o'clock.

Tuesday morning the family decided they desired some variation in their activity and a trip to Meryton was decided upon. Everyone agreed to join except Kitty who was engaged at the school that morning and Elizabeth who asked to be excused. Though she may have implied that she had some tasks to attend that prevented her from joining her family she never outright said so. This distinction allowed her to feel only a small amount of guilt when she set off a half an hour after they left. Her path was one of her favorites. One that she had named for Mr. Darcy the previously when he had asked about her habits of walking. It was not long after she had turned down the trail that would take her alongside a brook that she noticed a figure coming toward her on the opposite side.

"Mr. Darcy." She did not hide the smile his presence caused.

"Miss Elizabeth," Neither did he.

Chapter 30

Darcy and Elizabeth stood smiling at one another for several moments before she broke the silence.

"I am afraid that either the beauty of the day or some distraction or other will cause me to forget myself so let me tell you before I betray my errant mind – my uncle has made time for me this afternoon at two o'clock. I hope to find answers but if I do not I will do as I mentioned and ask him to obtain the entail document that I might examine it."

"You will allow me to join you?"

This they had already essentially agreed on, but she appreciated his asking once again.

"I would welcome any assistance you can offer, but I am not certain how to explain your presence to my uncle."

"Leave that to me." He sounded so confident that Elizabeth, who had no idea what explanation might satisfy her curious, private and protective uncle, decided she would do just that as she had enough unanswered questions that required her attention.

With that matter settled they set off on the path Darcy had come from, along the brook. After several minutes without speaking, the sounds of the water tumbling over rocks and the tweeting birds filling in the silence, Elizabeth decided to tease her companion.

"How remarkable, Mr. Darcy, that I should find you on this path at the very same time I myself have chosen to traverse it."

"Not so very remarkable," he replied. "I believe quite recently you mentioned this was one of your favorite walks and that you were particularly fond of morning rambles."

"That is true," she conceded. "However, the morning is several hours in duration and this path several miles long. Therefore, I maintain this meeting is somewhat remarkable."

"You would be correct, the odds appear to be against us, but . . ." Here Mr. Darcy hesitated before continuing. "I have been walking this path for some time in the hopes of meeting you."

Elizabeth was flattered at these words - they seemed to state unequivocally what Mr. Darcy had only hinted at previously, his preference for her company. Her heart began to beat a little faster, unsure what he might intend. If only her hand were free. In this moment her heart was telling her very clearly what she hoped for.

"In vain I have struggled. I am certain you understand how I feel about you. Indeed, I have been less circumspect than I should have been prior to making a decision. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

The hint of emotion Elizabeth felt at Mr. Darcy's initial words intensified at this clear declaration. Though she had allowed herself some fanciful daydreams, in the secret confines of her heart, her surprise at his avowal was absolute, having never really thought it possible she would earn the affection of such a man or that if she had, he would ever overcome his pride enough to declare it. In that moment she was not immune to thoughts of what making a life with him might look like. For just that moment she imagined a life so different than the one she had chosen for herself, one with a kind, handsome, intelligent husband by her side, helping her run Longbourn, seeking her help running Pemberley. It was a nice dream.

What would she have done if presented with flowery words of love and passion? When he began to recite her virtues she was distracted by the warmth his compliments incited. As he shifted into an explanation, still sounding quite rational and unlover-like, of the feelings her qualities, both her person and her character, evoked, Elizabeth knew she had to stop him. But truth be told, she did not want to. She knew someday soon Mr. Collins would offer his own proposal. She also knew that, though Mr. Darcy's was nearly devoid of emotional language it was also sweet, genuine and based on real feelings. It flew in the face of the most practical reasons people wed – she was not his equal, they would have to overcome many practical obstacles both geographical and societal to achieve marital happiness and yet still he desired her. Could she be forgiven for wanting an extra moment of that proposal knowing her next one would be full of earnest but empty language, heartfelt but unreciprocated feelings and, she had no doubt, a great deal of Lady Catherine's advice?

She counted it as a blessing that Mr. Darcy was a practical and not a romantic man. Although she wanted to be certain that in the end she would not be deterred from the course she had set from herself it was hard enough to resist him hearing his dispassionate explanation of how he overcame his initial aversion to her technically objectionable situation to feel a deep and genuine regard for her. Hard at first, but she began to feel he spent a bit to much time on the subject. When he had dealt with the inferiority of her family in general and the peculiarity of her running Longbourn nearly on her own in particular, something he was quite willing to look past, he had a specific objection to discuss:

"You understand of course that I have no objection to Miss Bennet herself, but her situation is difficult, and it gives rises to gossip, even here where she is known and beloved. Amongst others, less kind and more sophisticated she would not be so easily forgiven her . . .past."

Nothing could have been so calculated to pull Elizabeth out of something that had begun to feel very much like regret – regret at having to refuse such a man, regret at having begun to feel for him some sort of regard that went beyond the friendship she claimed was all she could offer. His callous mention of Jane, as if she were some sort of factor in a decision, even as he explained she was weighed in the balance and Elizabeth still came out on what he saw as the victorious side, served to not only stop Elizabeth's regret but to incite her anger.

This, added to her other considerations, had the added benefit of adding a measure of anger to her remorse.

Why did he insist on insulting Jane who was the soul of goodness?

Why had he made her feel like an equal only to turn out to be like everyone else?

Why had he, who knew as well as anyone of her prior arrangement with her cousin, pushed matters with a proposal when he had to know that it would not only result in a refusal but in the end cause all manner of awkwardness between them and strain an otherwise cordial friendship.

As Mr. Darcy progressed in his avowals, plans had begun to pepper his speech and Elizabeth felt the time had come to stop him.

"Mr. Darcy, you forget I have made no answer. Let me do so now." Having secured his silence Elizabeth paused a moment. "I am not insensible to the compliment you are paying me. I thank you. Your good opinion is important to me and though . . " here she stopped herself, not trusting she could explain without returning his offense and giving away her own feelings. Choosing instead to simply say, "I am sorry to have caused you any pain and I hope it will be of short duration. However, you are aware of my . . . my near understanding with my cousin. To consider your proposal is impossible."

Uncertain how to end this now very awkward encounter Elizabeth dropped a very awkward curtsy and turned to leave.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy called after she had taken several steps. "Is this all the reply you intend to give me? To finally articulate, almost articulate, an almost arrangement. How could I be aware? You refused to speak of it until now – if that would even be considered speaking of it at all. Is Mr. Collins truly an impediment for us? Are you honestly considering marrying that man?"

She turned to answer him. Hearing the control he was exerting on his temper allowed her to maintain the tenuous hold she had on her own. For the moment anyway.

"Would you allow that it might be best for both of us to take some time to consider your words before saying things we might come to regret."

"I do to need to consider my words. Indeed, I believe I have made clear that I have already done so," he said, his exasperation was evident in the enunciation he placed on each word, the deep breath he took before continuing, the way he closed his eyes before looking at her once again. All these spoke to an exercise in patience. "Are you telling me you would like to consider my proposal and will give me an answer at a later time?"

He did not sound hopeful at this, more incredulous. As if her needing time to consider marriage to him was equally as preposterous as a refusal. That, oddly enough, was what broke her hold on her anger.

"No, Mr. Darcy, I do not need time to consider anything. What I had hoped was that you would be gentleman enough to accept my refusal and allow me to leave without requiring that I articulate the myriad of reasons I have for refusing you, but since that is not the case if you are insisting," here she paused and looked at him for confirmation and though he looked slightly taken aback, a combination of shocked and confused, he nodded slightly and so she continued, "then I will tell you. Though you mentioned affection you also mentioned degradation. Though you spoke of love you also spoke of inferiority. Though you know important Longbourn is to me you speak of it as though it is a liability. Though you know, you cannot deny you know, of my prior arrangement, you still chose to speak to me of marriage, insulting both myself, my cousin and our friendship. You know the reasons I must marry him I cannot imagine what you seek to accomplish with this . . . exercise except to satisfy your own vanity. I have no wish to be the source of pain to you but you know I am only being reasonable when I refuse you. Now if I have satisfied your curiosity, I beg you leave to bid you good day, sir."

"Curiosity!" He nearly yelled, more angry than she had yet seen, running his hands though his hair and turning from her. "Curiosity. I love you, Elizabeth, my question was not idle curiosity, and your characterizations are cruel and unfair."

"Cruel and unfair!" her temper and tone matched his. She knew they were both now so angry, so emotional that further conversation was unwise, but that same anger and emotion made the reasonable decision to table their discussion until they could speak reasonably impossible. "You accuse me of cruelty moments after you explain to me that I am inferior to you, tell me the reasons you should not love me – reasons that include some of the very best parts of me, and then make a proposal you know I must refuse" she tripped slightly on the word love, even in the midst of her fury it was amazing to her that he should love her or think he did, "tell me truly, sir, did you think this speech would recommend you to me or were you in fact hoping I would reject you and then you could feel you did all you could to save your lowly friend from her truly humble existence before you left this backwards village and married some more worthy woman of the first circles?"

"If this is what you think of me, of love, then you know nothing of either," he bit out before taking a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. He had, in truth, not doubted his reception and adjusting to this conversation, this reality, was unsettling to say the least. "It was not my intention to insult you, Elizabeth. It was my intention to demonstrate to you how serious I was and how strong my attachment is to have overcome such, you must allow, reasonable objections – objections that spoke of how society might object and make our journey difficult, not of what I value or do not value in you and your family. I was offering you assurances that my attachment was not a whim, not a flight of fancy nor the work of an hour or a day's time. I had imagined you would be able to understand my position."

"What of my position, Mr. Darcy? You want me to consider yours, had expected me to even in the midst of your insults and offense, but you did not stop to consider mine, beyond how far beneath you it was."

"I do not understand." Now he sounded genuinely confused and very interested. "What position do you speak of?"

"Did you not consider how I would receive such, what did you call them - assurances? Assurances based on your willingness to overcome your basic revulsion with the mere thought of any connection with me and those I love most. You wonder at my not receiving those assurances with gratitude and joy?"

For the first time Mr. Darcy looked slightly chastened, but Elizabeth was not entirely certain if it was her words or the fact that he had actually been rejected was now fully setting in and he was simply regretting the entire conversation.

"I will now return to Longbourn." Elizabeth said, leaving no room for opposition this time. She turned and was a few steps down the path before she turned back to say, "Mr. Darcy, I am truly sorry to have wounded your pride and for any feelings I have hurt. I hope I have not lost your good opinion and that we can put this behind us quickly."

She turned once again and hurried away, feeling the sting of tears. Before she had gone too far, she heard Mr. Darcy quietly say, "You have not lost my good opinion, Elizabeth."

It was the third time he had dropped the miss from her name and Elizabeth wondered why that was what occupied her thoughts and stirred her feelings as she walked home.

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 she had not wanted to dwell on them, they were too much, too likely to penetrate her carefully erected walls and longstanding plans 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 passed 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, John 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.

"Oh absolutely," John agreed. "He will cut a handsome figure at the next assembly no doubt. And handsome men are always excellent dancers so you can look forward to be whirled about the floor expertly."

Elizabeth knew John was trying to draw her out, to engage with her in their usual banter, but she was unequal to the task.

"I expect he will join the other officers if they come to call this week. He seems fond of company." Jane said after a moment when Elizabeth did not argue with John, as they all probably expected her to. "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 family 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, and she could not explain the insulting nature of his proposal without causing Jane to feel, once again, that her very existence was somehow harming her family. This Elizabeth would not allow. "I have determined to accept Mr. Collins, you all know this, therefore I cannot consider Mr. Darcy."

This was true enough. Even if it skirted past the specifics.

"I am somewhat surprised," said Lydia with a laugh, "I had not thought the proud Mr. Darcy would get to the point so precipitously."

Elizabeth glared at Lydia but said nothing.

"Was there no declaration of love? Will you tell us no details?" Lydia asked. Though she was the only one who dared voice it, the others apparently also wanted to hear too as they looked at her with eager expectation. Though Jane laid a gentle hand over Elizabeth's, silently telling her she needn't reveal anything she didn't want to.

In truth she did not want to dwell on this because she refused to focus on what his proposal meant – a path she could not take 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 led him to make the proposal," she said simply.

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

"Fine, he did, but he had no right. I am practically engaged to Mr. Collins and he knows this."

"Does he?" Mary challenged with a calm rationality.

"Whose side are you on?" Elizabeth demanded with less calmness and rationality.

"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 very much like 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's 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 he 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 them 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."

Chapter 32

As it turned out, Mr. Phillips implied more than he told, but even that caused Elizabeth's head to spin, her heart to ache and her cheeks to blush. She could fill in the blanks he was so careful to leave wide open. An hour after he sat down at his desk across from herself and Mr. Darcy, she found herself holding that gentleman's arm on the relatively busy street in front of her uncle's office.

"You had no idea?" Mr. Darcy asked gently. Elizabeth shook her head, noting that when they reached the crossroad, he chose the path away from, rather than toward, the village.

"You obviously know the rumours. They played at least some part in your judgment of my family." Elizabeth looked up at him. Their friends and neighbors loved and accepted the Bennets, but they also loved gossip and even twenty years later it was one of the best stories they had in their repertories. Especially given the mystery that still surrounded it. In a way she could not blame him for his judgment. Though few looked askance at them here, where they were known and their decades of respectability and good standing stood against the rest, elsewhere, if certain stories were told or if certain implications proved true . . . . none of that would matter, "You know nearly as much as I do then."

He looked surprised at this, and she could not blame him. How could she explain the way her family handled the insinuation and gossip was by not talking about it, not acknowledging it, even among themselves? Beyond one ill-fated inquiry as a precocious six-year-old that left her in no doubt about her father's unwillingness to enlighten her about the stories she overheard at the dress shop, Elizabeth had not attempted to solve the mystery. Mr. Bennet's vehemence, his uncharacteristic anger at a question, questions were something he usually encouraged, told the perceptive young Lizzy that perhaps she did not want to know the answer and so she took that lesson to heart because, truth be told, she had not asked a single question of anyone about the mystery surrounding Jane's birth in the thirteen years since. When she was old enough to understand what alternatives were available for her sister's parentage, she decided she did not want to know and unless Jane herself decided to inquire and sought her help she would leave well enough alone. As it turns out it was not well enough at all but was, in fact, at the heart of all of Elizabeth's difficulties.

"It is generally known and accepted that Miss Bennet is your mother's daughter?" Mr. Darcy persisted.

"Known and accepted in the ways these things are," blushing a little Elizabeth added, "my mother left the area for a few months when she was seventeen. She married my father a year after she returned. I was born a year later. Two year old Jane was brought home to us as my father's ward some months later. My uncle, the previous heir to Longbourn had died in the meantime, I had not realized the connection to . . . I did not know."

They walked on in silence for a few moments.

"However," she felt the need to add, "my father has never treated Jane any differently than the rest of us. She is our sister. I never considered that the name she bore was anything other than my father's way of demonstrating his love and her place in our family."

They regarded one another for a long moment before Mr. Darcy nodded, seeming to accept this. Elizabeth expelled the breath she did not realize she had been holding.

"The rest of what your uncle shared, that was . . . you had not known any of that." It was a statement not a question, so Elizabeth did not answer, he went on. "I know you are an intelligent woman and so some of what he did not say . . . you, I am certain, inferred."

"You mean in addition to who Jane's father is and who knows who Jane's father is?" This was the heart of the matter and she had no desire to be missish about it. Why her uncle Phillips felt the need to not say the one thing that was so glaringly obvious, as if by not doing so somehow her mother's honor, Jane's honor, her family's honor could be preserved.

"Yes."

"I am not a simpleton, Mr. Darcy, so yes I was able to glean his meaning. My mother, in her foolish youth, she was but sixteen when Jane was born, must have imagined herself in love with him, my uncle indicated as much. Fanny Gardiner was said to have been the most beautiful girl in the county – I never knew my uncle Bennet but I have heard enough stories to know he was . . . not good. I ca imagine the scene once the consequences of their actions became clear to her." Elizabeth heard the bitterness creeping into her voice. Her recitation had begun with detached disinterest, but it did not end that way. Her mother's capriciousness and a young man's reckless disregard for her and the rules of society were now wreaking havoc in her life. This anger could not last long however, she remembered just in time to avoid becoming truly bitter, what the final result of their youthful behavior wrought – Jane. Elizabeth wished she had known something of this take while her mother yet lived – she felt a sympathy for the youthful and naïve Fanny Gardiner that she like dot thin would have softened her regard for her shallow and vain mother whom she could never understand and truthfully did not try to in the end.

"Your grandfather never learned the identity of Miss Bennet's father?" It would seem that her grandfather created an entail to retaliate against the wrong son. A son who he assumed was shouldering the burden on some unknown man's natural child. He was so angry at him for marrying a woman who bore another man's child he would rather the estate go to his distant relatives – the Collins, who though simple folk were well respected enough, than the children of his son. It was, of course more complicated than that as her uncle explained, but this was the source of the acrimony and if only the two men had spoken, had aired the grievances, her life would not be in turmoil.

"It would seem he did not," Elizabeth answered. "He died when I was but a child, but I do remember he and my parents did not get on at all. I imagine neither of them was willing to share this with him and never knowing, until he passed, how he had settled the estate they would not have known there was a very pressing reason to do so."

"And now, because your father was willing to let you shoulder all of the responsibility for the estate for years, to offer your self in marriage for its preservation and the preservation of your sister's honor, it may pass to a distant relative and all of your hard work, your family's legacy . . . "

"Yes, so it seems," Elizabeth interrupted, unwilling to let him continue but unable to contradict him.

"Unless you can meet the conditions of the codicil," he said as if it were that simple.

"That and convince Mr. Collins, who would then not be inheriting an estate he has expected to inherit for much of the past two years, not to share his knowledge of Jane's parentage."

"He would also not be marrying a woman he expected to marry for much of these past two years. Do you not imagine this will be an even greater disappointment?"

Elizabeth knew that, in his own way Mr. Collins did care for her, but she also knew that his expectation of becoming a landed gentleman, horses, a life of leisure – these were the things he aspired to more than he sought her affection or happiness. However, they were, in his mind, so tied together she doubted he understood that he in fact held no real love for her.

"It is complicated." She answered, not willing to elaborate, instead turning her mind to the rest of what they had learned from her uncle.

It was hard to say which shock was greater, finding out that her long deceased Uncle Bennet was Jane's natural father or finding out that her own grandfather had, just months prior to his death, added a codicil to the entail that made it possible, under certain conditions, for she herself to inherit.

"Your grandfather was a hard man, Elizabeth, you may remember," her uncle had said. Elizabeth heard both respect and judgment in his voice. Still reeling from all she had learned so far, she barely managed a nod, acknowledging that she did indeed remember her grandfather's hardness, though she also remembered tenderness - fishing excursions to the pond, stealing candies from his pocket while he pretended not to notice, long walks about the estate, visits to tenants, learning to ride, falling asleep on his lap. He had passed when she was ten and her mother was much occupied with the birth and care of her younger sisters during those years, her father seemed to live in his library – her grandfather had been the adult most present in her life. She had been visited her aunt and uncle Gardiner when he died in a fall while helping the workers repair the barn roof. It took Elizabeth a long time to recover. He had been a vital presence at Longbourn.

"After you were born; however, he began to bend a little." Her uncle said, and then he explained the alternative conditions her grandfather had placed on the devolvement of Longbourn that explicitly allowed Elizabeth herself to inherit. When Elizabeth demanded to know why she had never been told of the codicil her uncle sheepishly explained that her father had insisted and that he himself had thought she was satisfied in her arrangement with Mr. Collins, until Mr. Darcy arrived and he noticed her fondness for that gentleman. At that point Elizabeth quickly changed the subject, this was only partially due to her embarrassment. She wanted to understand her father's position and her uncle seemed as amendable as he had ever been to revelations.

"But why, uncle?" she asked, trying to keep the desperation and frustration out of her voice. "why has my father, who in almost every other way seems determined to secure my happiness, pushed this match even when it has become clear it will very likely cause me a lifetime of misery?"

Mr. Phillips regarded Elizabeth thoughtfully for a moment before titling his head to one side in a movement she had come to understand preceded a measured, diplomatic response, a not uncommon practice for the kind solicitor.

"Your father does desire your happiness, Lizzy, never doubt that," he began. "However, just before your grandfather died he extracted a promise from your father that I believe he woefully misinterpreted but none the less took to heart. He already had so much guilt over the accident and never quite getting over his sense of inadequacy when he became the heir in the first place . . . I think he was so pleased when you agreed to give Mr. Collins a chance that he has not allowed himself to see your unhappiness.

This sounded quite like her father who rarely saw what he did not want to see, but still she did not fully understand.

"What promise?"

"Of course I was not there, but I tried to get your father to tell me the precise words so I could help him understand your grandfather's intent and not merely what Edward thought it meant. Apparently, your grandfather asked that his plans for Longbourn be honored, telling your father that the estate was meant for someone who loved it as he did and would dedicate themselves to it as he and his ancestors had, he asked your father to promise not to let sentiment or outside forces, here we believe he meant your mother, influence the way the estate would devolve and to, again, let it pass down as he had planned."

Elizabeth tried to absorb this along with the knowledge that her beloved grandfather, whom she had resented all these years for attempting to take away their beloved home, had actually made a way for her to stay, to continue to be mistress as they had spoken of so often despite her age, immaturity and naivety. She wanted to take the time now, but could not, to revisit those conversations, long since put away, filled with advice, plans and camaraderie – the entail had taken them from her and made her feel alone in ways she only began to understand when her father, slowly, started to show an interest in the estate and gave her some of that sense of companionship back.

"I believe what your grandfather alluded to had everything to do with who you married. Although the codicil required her death, which I still maintain was a cruel condition, he always feared, and not without some cause," he conceded, "Fanny's influence over Edward who valued his peace above all else. She knew and, I will admit, exploited this to her advantage. However, your father is determined to believe that to honour these last wishes means to ensure Mr. Collins inherits. He was conflicted when the elder Mr. Collins

"All this time, there has been a way out that did not involve . . ." Elizabeth voiced her disbelief as she and Mr. Darcy made their way onto the road that would lead them to Longbourn. Longbourn, Elizabeth's home, her legacy and responsibility which she had planned to preserve through a loveless marriage to a man she had tried for years to find affection for.

"Does this mean we may finally speak of Mr. Collins?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"It seems we have been speaking of nothing but the Collins's for the past hour without actually saying their names, so yes, Mr. Darcy, I suppose we may," she granted. It was a hard concession. Elizabeth was not fond of having conversations where she could not manage all of the particulars, was not certain of the outcome because it was she herself who controlled the details. Here, with Mr. Darcy, there were too many possibilities she could not foresee, not dictate.

"If I had made my proposal in a way that was . . . more palatable, would you have accepted me?"

This was not at all what she had thought he would say and therein lay that problem of unpredictability. Still, even though two hours ago Elizabeth was certain Mr. Darcy's proposal was the last thing in the world she would deign to discuss with him now, it was a welcome distraction. She gave him an honest answer.

"No."

"I suppose that is a relief."

"How so?" She asked with a laugh. This was indeed a strange and unexpected conversation.

"I . . ." he seemed to consider this for a moment. He stopped their forward movement, and she could feel him looking down at her and so she met his eyes. They were filled with a kind of chagrin and a fair bit of vulnerability, then he smiled. The one that didn't show any teeth but pulled up one side of his mouth and gave him a slightly boyish look. She found his different smiles endlessly fascinating and that was not at all helpful. "I am used to frank discussions, but not about this particular topic and not with . . ."

"Me?" she guessed.

"Well yes, but also more generally I am unused to frank conversations with ladies. As you know, my mother passed when I was fairly young, Georgiana is more than ten years my junior and my aunt Catherine does not invite conversation so much as she requires an audience. I have no other women in my circle of intimates . . . until you. Our friendship has allowed me to see many things from a new perspective, but it has also been a source of considerable confusion for me. You and I have enjoyed a degree of familiarity and this . . .

"Are you saying that because you are unused to friendship with a woman you mistook ours for feelings of affection and love?" She asked, not sure if she was entitled to the hurt this possibility triggered.

"Elizabeth," he said in exasperation. "I cannot tell if you are intentionally misunderstanding me every time I speak, or you genuinely do not know me at all. I confess neither possibility thrills me."

Not sure what to do with the relief these words caused, Elizabeth rushed to defend herself.

"I am not trying to anger you, to provoke an argument. I simply . . . I do not know. I find all of this overwhelming," she finally confessed.

"Of course," Mr. Darcy nodded. "Let us continue on."

They resumed walking.

"Better?" he asked after several minutes of silence. His voice startled Elizabeth. She had almost forgotten his presence. They had set a brisk pace and the exercise and fresh air had combined to focus her mind.

"Better?" She asked, not sure what he meant.

"I have noticed you seem to think better when you are moving," he said simply.

It was true, had been true of her as long as she could remember. His knowledge of this truth, however; was a little disconcerting or perhaps comforting, she could not be sure so she simply nodded.

"To return to the matter at hand, I am relieved to know that my ungentlemanly behavior did not lead you to refuse me, but in the spirit of the frankness to which I believe we have committed ourselves – may I ask what did?"

"That may be more frankness than I agreed to," Elizabeth said with a nervous laugh. "I thought we would be speaking frankly about the things my uncle revealed – Jane's parentage, my family's situation, the entail. That would be hard enough but this . . . ." Another nervous laugh.

"We will, of course, but I am afraid in order to divine a solution we must speak of the present Mr. Collins, your preposterous plan to marry him and your father's support of the idea. In order to fully understand that I need to understand what happened between us this morning. I confess I want to believe that you are madly in love with me and, though it pained you to the depth of your tender soul, felt you had to refuse me due to your outrageous, yet selfless, plan to marry your cousin to secure your family's home and your sisters' future. However, I am, I hope, astute enough to realize there was more to your refusal than that. Or should I say less. I see now how badly I misread so many things between us. I would like to understand."

This short speech, though pronounced with a sort of self-deprecating smile and sly tone, held more. Mr. Darcy was not the only one who had been paying attention. She heard something in his voice– though she could not quite identify it. It sounded a little like anger, a little like mortification and a lot like determination. Though she wanted to reassure him that he had not completely misread her, or them, that was not what this conversation needed – emotion and the confusion they brought.

"Very well," Elizabeth said, aiming for the same detached tone. She may have had about as much success as him in achieving it.

"You do not wish to marry Mr. Collins," when Elizabeth began to answer, Mr. Darcy clarified, "you harbor no romantic affection for Mr. Collins?"

"I do not," she answered with an exasperated sigh. Knowing they had to traverse this ground did not make Elizabeth any more amendable to discussing her cousin with Mr. Darcy.

"You also do not wish to marry me?" The tone was all business once again.

"No," she answered in the same tone. Some of the reasons for her refusal were as true now as they had been hours earlier. Some obstacles now seemed surmountable, however; new ones had also materialized.

"You harbor no romantic affection for me?" The tone was still very matter of fact and so it took Elizabeth a moment to understand the question. She stopped walking and turned to her companion, face red whether in anger or embarrassment she could not say.

"Mr. Darcy!"

"It was a simple enough matter with regard to your cousin," he pointed out, the indifferent tone remained.

She tried to force the same – I do not- past her lips. It was a simple enough phrase. But here she stood looking up into the curious blue-green eyes of a man she did in fact harbor some kind of affection for. Affection she had hardly allowed herself to dwell on in the privacy of her own thoughts. Affection she had never owned to her loving and prying sisters and now he expected her to simply confess it to him?

"If you are afraid of wounding my pride . . ."

"I hardly think I can be accused of that after this morning," she laughed, marveling at the array of emotions this day was evoking in her.

"Very well," a small smile escaped his lips before he schooled his features. He seemed to be waiting, seemed willing to stand there until she answered, whether it took a moment or an hour and so she did, honestly, but quietly, dropping her eyes before speaking her one-word answer.

"No."

He hung his head just as she lifted her gaze back up to meet his. She realized at once that he had misunderstood her and was tempted to let it go. It was certainly the easier – less awkward route, but Elizabeth Bennet was no coward.

"What I meant was no, I do not harbor no romantic affection for you," It was very awkward phrasing and she shuddered to think what some of the smattering of tutors she had had over the years would think of her use of a double negative. However, she could not bring herself to utter the phrase, which meant entirely the same thing, without the cloak of their confusion.

"You can be confusing," he accused, half serious, half in jest. He was looking at her now and she felt as though with his gaze he was at once trying to read her and communicate with her. "Are you telling me you do hold me in affection?"

"I am trying to answer your questions honestly."

"Then answer that one."

"Yes." She looked away, stepped away, turned away.

"Yes, you will answer my question or yes is your answer to my question?"

How could she feel so embarrassed, annoyed, amused, frustrated and excited by one human being in the course of five minutes? Her novels never described love like this. Her parents had never spoken to each other like this, nor had any other couple she had seen. How could she know what this was without some frame of reference? She looked back at him, those blue-green eyes regarded her earnestly, waiting for her answer. So patient.

"Yes is my answer to your question."

When Mr. Darcy smiled, that rare tempting one that showed his teeth and lit his eyes and moved to take her hands Elizabeth took a step backward. The smile faded and his brows wrinkled in confusion.

"I had the same feelings for you this morning that I do now," she warned. "That did not change my answer."

Mr. Darcy nodded in understanding.

"But it could change your answer now?"