Darcy had retained a vague idea that he disliked the Elliot children;--at least as much as he disliked any children. They were a girl and boy of four and two. Both were handsome -- unsurprising, given their indisputably attractive progenitors -- unfortunately, they also seemed to have inherited their parents' less desirable traits. Walter, the younger, was a loud, ungovernable fellow, while Caroline was spoilt, petulant, and haughty, very like her half-sister Elizabeth. Their mother ignored them, their uncle and aunt indulged them, and Darcy fell half-unconsciously into the role of disciplinarian. For some reason -- he himself was not entirely certain of it -- the children responded to him as they did not the other adults, although they made no pretense of liking him.

Charles and Jenny had no fondness for their Elliot relations, and Darcy and Mrs Bingley were chiefly occupied in breaking up quarrels between the cousins. Walter, thankfully, spent most of his time away from the others; but Caroline more than made up for it. Lady Elliot, after several weeks, eventually noticed enough to complain to Darcy.

"Why don't you speak to your brother?" Darcy asked exasperatedly. "They are his children."

Lady Elliot sniffed. "I am not speaking about Charles and Jane. They are normal children."

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon," he said icily, "I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Lady Elliot."

She rolled her eyes, and he could not keep from reflecting that, despite her pretensions, there had always been that bit of vulgarity about her. It was not simply the impertinence -- occasionally even ill-bred impertinence -- of Lady Catherine, but a crassness more akin to -- to -- he tried to think of a comparison, but only Mrs Bennet and her three younger daughters sprang to mind. "Surely you have noticed that Anne is a trifle strange."

Darcy said nothing, and she mistakenly construed this as encouragement. She had never been a really clever woman.

"She does not play properly, and she does not talk. It was not really Caroline's fault."

Darcy did not feel it worth his time to explain that Anne not only talked but talked astonishingly well when she considered the company worth it. Nor could he fault his daughter's taste. "Anne is perfectly -- "

"It is only that we have no money," she confided. Darcy tried to think of a polite way to say that he could not be less interested. "It is so difficult to make her understand that we cannot afford what a baronet's daughter ought to have; and why Anne has so much more than she does, when she is only a gentleman's daughter."

Clearly Lady Elliot felt the loss of a few dresses and feathers as greater deprivation than Kellynch. Westhampton had once said that those who were not born to an estate could not understand its loss, and apparently he had been right; Bingley had only looked blank when Darcy admitted to a grudging sympathy for the family's straits. It was Mrs Bingley who immediately comprehended his meaning.

"You might explain that my family has had more money, for longer, than Sir Walter's," he offered acerbically. "Or that my lifestyle is less extravagant than -- his."

"I could hardly say that," Lady Elliot objected. "She is so sensitive."

"Indeed? I had quite failed to notice."

She forged on. "I'm sure you didn't need to frighten her."

"Lady Elliot," he leaned forward, eyes flashing -- "if your daughter strikes mine again, I will do more than frighten her. I suggest that if this causes either of you distress, you convince her of the unsuitability of her actions. Incidentally, Anne is not strange and I do not appreciate your suggestion of it. I have nothing more to say on the matter." He picked up a letter and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

As expected, Henry Crawford happened to arrange a lengthy visit to a neighbouring estate some three weeks into Lady Elliot's stay. Only a man as impudent as Crawford would attempt to seduce a woman -- even one so willing as Lady Elliot -- under her brother's roof. When he paid a visit to the Bingleys, he fooled no-one, but little could be done, and his charm slowly won the family over. The arrival of the Fitzwilliams, the colonel and his wife, was more than timely.

The brother and sister were, despite their manifold flaws, sincerely fond of one another. Crawford paused in his attendance upon Lady Elliot and Mrs Bingley, his eyes lifting up with a glad cry of "Mary!"

"Henry!"

After kissing one another, introductions to those still unacquainted were made, and Mrs Fitzwilliam gravitated to Darcy's side. Overcome by the instinct to flee, Darcy remembered Bingley's steady friendship, Mrs Bingley's upstanding character, and most of all his sweet god-daughter, and steadied his resolve.

"I understand from my husband that you would like to speak to me, Mr Darcy," she said softly. One of the most difficult things about Mrs Fitzwilliam was that she was never overt, and had only grown more subtle with time. Nevertheless her intense dark stare made the hairs on his neck prickle. He had very much hoped that it was only because there was something about him terribly objectionable, but a conference with his two similarly-affected cousins had relieved him of that delusion long ago.

"I would like -- to ask -- a favour," he said haltingly. Mrs Fitzwilliam smiled winningly and waited. He fidgeted -- this smacked of deceit -- of course he was being perfectly straightforward and -- but still -- it was not -- Darcy sighed. It was one of those moments wherein he wished for a more extensive repertoire of expletives.

"A favour? Of me? I am flattered, Mr Darcy," she said, as charming as ever. The attentions of such a woman were nearly enough to drive a man into marriage -- any marriage, so long as it rendered him inaccessible. Unfortunately, Mrs Fitzwilliam's morals were such that she disregarded such trivialities, as Edward could attest. She had already gained respectability and status through her marriage; it was apparently more personal qualities that attracted her. Darcy bit his lip and briefly wished he were five foot five with warts. Not really, of course, but it was all -- so awkward. Why could she not just find a charming rake like her brother? Of course, people would talk if she was seen with someone like that. Really, there was no escape.

"You probably won't be when I'm finished," he said bluntly. Mrs Fitzwilliam's eyebrows rose slightly. "Lady Elliot, Bingley's sister, is apparently quite delighted with your brother."

"Henry has great natural charm," Mrs Fitzwilliam said mildly, although her eyes were trained on her brother, her expression intense. "Women always fall a little infatuated with him; he can't help it, really." It was true enough that every woman Crawford spoke to seemed to moon after him. He was an unusual man in that he was simultaneously attractive and replusive; women loved him and most men longed to kick him. Darcy himself felt a certain twitching in his boot even as he began speaking to the man's sister.

"You know, of course, that Sir Walter, Lady Elliot's husband, and my father were cousins?"

Her lips pursed. "No, I did not." Her dark eyes went to Bingley's sister, and hardened slightly.

"Scandal, naturally, would be very unpleasant for the entire family. We are all a very respectable lot. The former Lady Elliot, my god-mother, would never have dreamed --"

"Yes, I see." Her expression had turned positively stormy. "Well, surely Henry can direct his attentions elsewhere. There are so many -- " She glanced up at him meaningfully, and he glanced away, flushing.

"He has no reason to do so. But even if he does, Lady Elliot seems not to realise the, er, obligations incumbent upon her situation. It would be dreadful for -- all of the family, really -- if there was any hint of scandal. You understand, Mrs Fitzwilliam, how one may pursue one's -- " Darcy raised his eyes and smiled rather unpleasantly -- "entertainments, without indiscretion or impropriety. Lady Elliot appears to be rather less enlightened."

The only expression that crossed her face was faint surprise, soon gone; she returned his gaze consideringly, then smiled. "You wish for me to -- enlighten her, then?"

"Yes." He weighed his chances, then continued levelly, "It would be dreadful, cousin, were the family name to be sullied in any way. Public opinion is so fickle. Of course, people are generally fickle -- not only women. Their ideas change so rapidly; character is the only constant. Do people ever really change, do you think? Can they?"

Mrs Fitzwilliam's gaze did not waver, and she laughed lightly. "I am not well-versed in matters of philosophy, sir; but I think not. Still, ideas and -- paradigms -- may shift. You have been married, Mr Darcy; sometimes people truly are happier ignorant. Do you not believe so?"

"I would not wish it for myself;" -- he glanced at the colonel, who was talking animatedly to Lady Elliot and Mrs Bingley -- "but perhaps, for some. I am not certain; I would have to give the matter more thought."

"I see." She looked from her brother, to the Bingley siblings, to her husband. "When I have spoken with Lady Elliot, perhaps you shall have come to a conclusion on the matter?"

"Perhaps. My ideas are never set in stone, however."

Mrs Fitzwilliam glanced up at him through her lowered lashes, and smiled demurely. "Ah. Let us hope your friend's sister is as accomodating in her thinking as you."

"Indeed."

"And, cousin -- we have been family these two years. Surely such formality in unnecessary?"

"Very well, Mary." He bowed, and left without making any reciprocal request. Crawford instantly joined him, his brows furrowed.

"That was a charming tête-à-tête I just observed, sir," he began. Darcy looked at him disdainfully and crossed his right foot behind his left, where it could cause no trouble. What a contemptible little man, he thought, as glad of his height as he had disliked it awhile before. He had not the slightest idea how Crawford could have fooled any woman, let alone the vast numbers rumoured.

"Oh, was it?" he replied, falling into his native languid drawl, as he invariably did when annoyed. "I rather thought you preoccupied with Sir Walter's wife."

"She is very beautiful, but I'm afraid the present company has me rather inured to such charms."

"Astonishing," said Darcy.

"I had not thought you particularly friendly with my sister," the man prodded. Insufferable creature.

"I am not." With a scathing look, Darcy said icily, "It was a family matter. I'm afraid I do not have leave to discuss it. Good day." He bowed and left the room with Bingley. They were well on their way to the study when it occurred to him that he was running away from the intolerable pair, and he laughed.

Bingley, his expression still faintly trapped, glanced over at him in surprise. "What is it?" He looked around them, then over his shoulder.

"I have an entirely new perspective on hunting," said Darcy.

---

meggie: No, I don't think you have. Thank you so much. I'm glad you've enjoyed my story; I certainly have. I had no idea simply not mentioning Elizabeth would cause so much angst!

Bubble Tea etc: sigh ... all in good time. I'm glad you enjoy my characterisation, especially Anne.

Teresa: That's okay ... sorry about the slow update! (Actually, the site wouldn't let me update for some reason, but still...) You're welcome. No, there was a struggle -- which is why she felt it necessary that he understood what her "acceptance" -- her choice to be his wife -- really meant. She is not a saint; she didn't intend that her love would be taken for granted. She was rebelling against everything she had ever been taught by attaching herself to him. In this day and age, I think it is easy for us to say, "Well, if she really loved him..." But the Fitzwilliams live in shades of grey. Cecily knew that her orphaned fiancé could not possibly comprehend her sacrifice unless she told him. Bluntly and straightforwardly. You couldn't do it in my lj? Odd... Well, that's fine.