Author's note: hey everyone, sorry for the delay. I've had a migraine for the last several days. And we've got some family stuff next week, so it's going a little slower. I'm SO SORRY! I'm not doing it on purpose!

Plus, this is the part of the book where I always get the worst writer's block. I love coming up with the unique backstories, but when it comes time for ODC to get together and have the story get resolved, my brain just goes blank.

But here's this chapter - we're all going to Kent! Let's find out what happened to Mr. Collins, shall we?

FYI, the numbers in Georgiana's letter about Darcy house come from Chatsworth's history, which is what most people believe Jane Austen based Pemberley on (she had toured it just before writing P&P)

Chapter 26

Elizabeth trudged up the path from the barn to Longbourn. It was now the first week of March, and she was relieved to see signs of spring for the first time in almost two years. While it was still much colder than a typical March, the snowstorms had come less frequently, and there were even patches of bare ground as the snow melted.

Things had radically changed in the four weeks since Darcy had broken her heart. Her father's words did much to ease the personal feelings of rejection, but she still felt the intense sting of loneliness.

To add to her sorrows, the new of Mrs. Hurst's death had greatly impacted their home. Mrs. Gardiner had immediately offered to assist with the baby, having raised four children herself. Charlotte had gratefully accepted the older woman's help, and as a result, Mrs. Gardiner visited Netherfield almost daily to give counsel and support — provided the weather held, of course. Mrs. Gardiner's regular presence also instilled an air of credibility for Charlotte's reputation; although she was acting as a nanny, she was still treated as an equal by everyone at Netherfield, including Miss Bingley.

There had been a few snow storms in throughout the month of February, but none more than an inch or two. Bingley had told Jane he would throw a dinner party for Valentine's Day if the weather held, but that was before he went into mourning.

Elizabeth kicked at a clump of snow in vexation. She found it hypocritical that Mary's young man could only now begin to pay her his attentions due to her mourning, but Bingley was allowed to call on Jane — on the pretense of doing business with Mr. Bennet — and no one thought anything wrong with it, in spite of his much more recent loss. While Miss Bingley was forced to dye some of her clothes and order an entire wardrobe of black for her mourning, Bingley — as he had asked them all to call him — only had to wear a simple black armband.

Jane often accompanied her aunt to Netherfield under the pretext of providing support to Miss Bingley, but it was an open secret that she spent much time sitting with Bingley and comforting him — in respectable ways, of course. Anyone who knew Jane could not suppose otherwise.

Just the day before, Bingley had finally left Netherfield to come to Longbourn to speak to Mr. Bennet. The resulting engagement was met with cries of joy, most especially from Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth knew that there would be several months of wedding planning ahead, and she did not look forward to it.

The wedding date was set for early June, when the weather would be warmer and all of the fields would be planted. This would allow time for Darcy to return and stand up with his friend.

Elizabeth's stomach clenched at the thought of Darcy's name. When she first heard that the Darcys had rapidly left Netherfield, Elizabeth was disconcerted. She thought perhaps that Darcy so desperately wished to escape her that he had abandoned his friend. She was relieved when she heard from Jane — who had heard it from Bingley — that there was an emergency with Darcy's aunt, and he was required immediately somewhere in the north.

Georgiana's letter was another thing that gave her a large amount of comfort. When her father first saw the letter in the stack of mail, he had called her into his study to give it to her in private. She had hesitated in taking it from him, afraid of what her friend — former friend, perhaps — would have to say. Noticing her trepidation, Mr. Bennet offered to read it first, and she had gratefully accepted.

Mr. Bennet had opened the letter, nodding thoughtfully as his eyes skimmed over the words. Every now and again he would make a faint noise, but with his impassive face, she was unable to get any idea of its contents from his reactions.

Finally he had folded the letter and handed it to her, saying, "She says much of what you and I discussed, only in even more explicit terms. I think you should read it, Lizzy. It may not heal the loneliness, but it can help you further understand that his decision was never really about you as you are."

Elizabet had taken the letter and went to her room to read it in privacy. With Jane at Netherfield for the day, she had known she would have several hours of solitude if she wished it.

The letter was everything warm and friendly. Georgiana had apologized profusely for not being able to take leave of her friend:

"In the midst of dear Louisa's tragic passing, my brother had completely forgotten about his unopened express. When his valet reminded him of it two weeks later, and the note was finally read, we knew we had to leave immediately. Our aunt is very ill, and her only daughter — our cousin, Anne — has all but been abandoned by tenants and servants. Anne has always been of an extremely delicate constitute, and we know she is unequal to the task of caring for things herself. Due to the long delay between her sending the letter and my brother's reading of it, we knew there was no time to waste."

The profound relief that Elizabeth felt at knowing she hadn't been the cause of Bingley's friend leaving was intense. Although she wished to never see Darcy again, she knew that wasn't feasible.

My brother told me of the last conversation you had. I cannot begin to apologize for how stupid he was. Please know that everything he said was said in the worst possible way. I can only imagine how it must have sounded coming from his mouth. I don't know how he ended up cursed with such poor speaking skills, but I certainly hope I haven't inherited them as well.

Elizabeth had laughed in spite of herself. The fact that Darcy had confessed to his sister what he said gave her some insight into the truth of her father's words. Very few men confided in the women in their lives, even their sisters. He must have been truly troubled by what he said — or rather, how he said it — to reveal it to his sister.

For what it's worth, my brother has had to shoulder an incredible amount of responsibility throughout his lifetime. I'd like to tell you more about Pemberley, our estate — not to boast of my brother's wealth, but so you can understand the nature of his duties. The park around Pemberley is just over one thousand acres. The manor house has 126 rooms, with servants. Across the property, there are dozens of tenants farms and a little over 450 houses and cottages.

Elizabeth gasped in shock. While she knew Longbourn was considered well-off by some, especially when compared to the working class, she had no idea of the magnitude of Darcy's home. She couldn't even begin to contemplate just how large a building would have to be to house that many rooms.

These numbers to not include the small estates scattered throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland, nor the Darcy House in London. While my brother is not as familiar with the servants and tenants at each of these places, he makes great efforts to at least be familiar with the tenants and the upper servant.

The idea that Darcy could own several "smaller" estates, in addition to what he already owned, was beyond her comprehension. She'd had to put down the letter for several moments to regain her composure. Certainly, Mr. Darcy was far wealthier than anyone could believe.

"As you can imagine, these last eighteen months of terrible weather have caused a great strain on my brother's resources. I am not sure if your father told you, but my brother has completely forgiven the rents owed by the tenants at each estate. He is also planning to give the Russian wheat to them in exchange for their work, as well as providing food for them now. Scotland and Ireland have been hit even harder by this wretched, never-ending winter, and he has sent tremendous amounts of money, food, and resources to them — all at his own expense."

Tears came to Elizabeth's eyes as she thought of the poor souls who would most likely have perished if it weren't for Darcy's generosity and charity. She knew of no other gentleman who would care for their tenants the way he was. The majority would have agreed to defer rents, but those rents would still have to be paid at a future time.

In all, my brother has hundreds, if not thousands, of people for whom he is directly responsible. He takes that burden very seriously, and he does all he can to encourage his peers to do the same. I often hear him in discussions with our neighbors about how to make the burden easier on their tenants. He recognizes that not only does he owe his lifestyle to their hard work, but without him being a fair landlord and master, they would suffer.

On a daily basis, our father would repeat that he mustn't allow Pemberley to fall into ruin when it was his turn to be master. He would say, "Our ancestors and future generations depend entirely on you. You mustn't disgrace them by being less than exemplary. Your duty to your heritage comes before every other consideration. You cannot forget what you owe to your family."

Elizabeth's eyebrows raised at reading these eerily familiar words that had been spoken so coldly to her six weeks prior.

As I stated before, I am not sharing this information with you to boast — Caroline Bingley hasn't rubbed off on me quite that much yet! But I wanted you know that were the weather and the circumstances not so dreadful, my brother would have been free to love you with all his heart. He did not intend to lead you on. Between you and me, I don't think he has ever felt this way before and couldn't recognize love for what it was until he was in the middle of it.

Her heart clenched at the idea that Darcy truly was in love with her.

I want to apologize again on behalf of my brother. I have never seen him so distraught and defeated as he was the the evening after he spoke to you last. If I could, I would willingly give him my entire dowry so he could marry you. Alas, my father's will makes that entirely impossible. It cannot even be released to my husband; only the interest is to be used, either to maintain Pemberley or myself, depending on my circumstances. If I thought it would help, I would vow to never marry, so my brother could continue using the interest and then be able to marry you. But he needs much more than my interest can provide.

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears at this generous offer from her friend. It warmed her to know that Georgiana thought highly enough of Elizabeth to wish her as a sister.

And so I close this letter, my dear friend, with the hope that we will always be friends, even if we can't be sisters. Please write to me as soon as you can.

Elizabeth's ruminations ended, and she reached down and touched the well-worn letter in her pocket. She kept it with her and had read it so frequently, it was beginning to tear along the creases.

While her heart was still extremely tender over the entire experience, she was getting a little bit stronger each day. Her spirits were beginning to recover, and she was able to find joy again in things.

As much as she desperately wished things could be different, Darcy's reasons only caused her to respect him more. She still felt hurt and some amount of anger at how he had allowed them to grow so close when he knew nothing could come of it, but she also knew that she couldn't allow herself to continue feeling that way. She was actively working on forgiveness, and she was finally feeling like she might be able to reach that point someday.

Perhaps when we meet again, it will be as merely indifferent acquaintances.

She finally reached Longbourn and entered the house, grateful for the opportunity to finally remove her boots. The snow that melted slightly during the day would freeze again at night, putting layers of ice over and under the slush. Walking was much more difficult than it had been with just snow.

She shook out her skirts as best she could in the small room near the servants' entrance. It had been turned into a sort of mudroom so snow and dirt wouldn't track through the house and cause a mess that would need to be cleaned up.

Once she had changed into the simple dress she had placed in there, she went upstairs to let her father know that the tenants she visited were doing well and already making plans for that year's planting.

As she passed the drawing room, she heard giggling from inside. She peered through the crack in the open door and saw Mary sitting with Mr. Goulding. The young man had come a few weeks prior to officially request Mr. Bennet's permission to court Mary, which was given with only minimal amounts of teasing.

"He is so somber, I dare not be too jovial or give him too hard a time. I wouldn't wish risk scaring him away — not when it would break my girl's heart!" he had teased Mary, who had both blushed and rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips were sitting across the room, giving the young couple knowing looks while the gossiped about the latest news Mr. Phillips had brought from Meryton.

Elizabeth smiled at the group, which Mary responded to with a small wave. Elizabeth hadn't confided in her sisters yet about Darcy's non-proposal — she just wasn't ready to have it known to anyone. She didn't want to be watched and monitored for her emotions by her well-meaning sisters. Instead, she had merely said she was saddened by Mrs. Hurst's death and the departure of the Darcy siblings.

She walked passed the door and headed towards her father's study. From above, she could hear Lydia laughing and stomping along with several smaller stomps and childish giggles. Elizabeth was amazed at how well Lydia had taken to caring for the Gardiners, especially with Mrs. Gardiner going to Netherfield so frequently. Her youngest sister would be a wonderful mother someday.

Finally reaching her father's bookroom, Elizabeth knocked on the door and entered when she heard his command.

"Hello, Papa," she said. "How has your day been?"

Instead of his customary sarcastic remark or good-natured joke, he looked up and her and said without preamble, "Lizzy, come read this letter."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed at the severe look on her father's face. "What is the matter?"

"I received a missive this morning from someone I have never heard of or met in my entire life. I want to know what you think of it."

She crossed the room and took a paper from his extended hand. Scanning it, she saw the handwriting was delicate and feminine.

"It's from a woman? Whom you've never met?" she asked in surprise.

"Just read it," he said somewhat impatiently.

She raised an eyebrow at his tone but obediently turned her attention to the letter and began to read.

To Mr. Bennet of Longbourn:

Please forgive me for writing to you without having been introduced, but the circumstances warrant it.

My name is Anne de Bourgh, and my mother is Lady Catherine of Rosings Park. Last year, she hired a new rector name Mr. William Collins, who told her that he was heir to your estate upon your passing.

Last October, my mother was informed that he is only heir because your estate is entailed away from the female line. I am the heir to my father's estate, which my mother is running until certain conditions of my father's will are met. The idea that a woman and her daughters would be homeless on the event of a man's death was insupportable. She insisted Mr. Collins visit you as soon as may be, with the idea of taking one of your daughters to wife.

My mother is just like others of her station who refuse to acknowledge when acts of Providence do not go their way. She told Mr. Collins that as his cause was righteous, God would protect him as he journeyed. I attempted to reason with both her and him, but it was useless.

Since then, the snows have come here in Kent with such regularity that we did not receive mail for weeks at a time. We have also had several matters of the estate that have been occupying our attention.

It was only recently that we realized that not only had Mr. Collins not returned, but we had not received any word from him about remaining away longer than he had planned. I had no way of knowing exactly where your estate was located, and it took some time to find an investigator who would be able to discover what happened.

The investigator returned yesterday to inform that after he searched the parsonage where Mr. Collins lived — and discovered your estate to be in Hertfordshire —- he stopped at every coaching inn along the way from Kent to you. It wasn't until he reached Middlesex that he finally had success.

Apparently, your cousin arrived at an inn just a storm was beginning to come. He had hired a coach, and the driver was refusing to go any further until the storm passed. Your cousin became incensed and demanded to be driven for his patroness was my mother. He made such a scene about it that the innkeeper had a clear recollection of the details. When the still driver refused to continue on, claiming the dangers of the cold and snow from the incoming storm, Mr. Collins purchased a horse and buggy from local man who was drinking ale in the tavern next door. That was the last anyone had seen of him.

When the following inn had no record of your cousin's arrival, he carefully searched the road between the two stops. At one area of road, where there was a particularly sharp curve, he noticed that several branches and trees appeared to be damaged. He followed the damage and discovered your cousin's body about fifty yards away, mostly buried under snow and branches. Had the inspector not specifically been looking for him, he probably would have remained there until everything had completely melted and thawed.

Every indication is that Mr. Collins had been traveling too swiftly for such dangerous conditions and had failed to make the turn. The horse appears to have been killed instantly, and Mr. Collins suffered a severely broken leg and other injuries. I will not go into more details unless you wish to hear them, but it is evident that Mr. Collins attempted to remain warm and build a fire, but was unsuccessful and eventually froze to death.

I am writing to you not only because your heir is now dead — and you will need to make proper arrangements — but also because I need to know what to do with the possessions Mr. Collins left in the Parsonage. There is a locked safe, which I imagine contains a will and other important legal documents, but we have not made the attempt to open it.

I do not know your present circumstances, but I hope that you are able to come as soon as possible upon reading this letter. You may stay in the Parsonage until you have completed your business, as we will not be replacing him for several months. If circumstances do not permit you to come, please write to me. His things can be boxed and stored here at Rosings until such time as you are able to travel.

Because of the nature of his demise, as well as having been left out to the elements, the state of his body was quite disturbing. I took the liberty of having him buried here at the cemetery in Hunsford. You are, of course, free to make changes to his current resting place when you arrive if sentiment drives you to do so.

Please send a letter as soon as you can to inform me of your plans.

Miss Anne de Bourgh

Elizabeth stared at the letter in shock. "Good heavens," she managed to say.

"Yes, the heavens are good to us indeed," said Mr. Bennet in a wry tone.

She stared blankly at him for a moment. "That is not what I meant," she sputtered in laughing protest.

"I will have to ask my brother Phillips what happens now. Is the entail broken? Can one of my daughters inherit? Will we have to find a new heir? I'm not even sure there is one. Or will the estate revert to the Crown?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened as he spoke. "This changes everything," she whispered.

He nodded grimly. "And that may not be for the best."

They sat quietly for a minute, then she asked, "Will you go to Kent, then?"

"I suppose I must," he said. "Sooner rather than later would be preferable. It is not a very long journey — only fifty miles, I believe — and it shouldn't take more than a few weeks to resolve. I would be able to return before the planting begins."

"You could stop to rest at my uncle's home in London," she suggested.

He shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. "No, I think we had best avoid the city for now. Gardiner wrote to his wife last week that there are still riots and protests due to the extreme lack of food and poor living conditions. The streets are also flooded with returning soldiers, and there is not enough for everyone. He doesn't want Madeline and the children to return until everything is much safer."

"Then it will take a little longer to go around London," she pointed out. "You hate traveling."

"That I do," he agreed, and then he added casually, "but I daresay it will be much nicer with you and Lydia with me."

"What?" she asked in astonishment.

He grinned at having caught her by surprise. "I thought I would take you and Lydia along. I do not wish to travel alone, and Jane and Mary would not like to leave their suitors."

"Who will watch the Gardiner children and visit tenants?" she asked.

"Jane and Mary can't always be with their suitors and leave you two to do their work. Besides, your mother has raised five children to adulthood without killing any of them; I'm certain she can manage four children with the help of Mrs. Phillips."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, then, let us go to Kent!"