As soon as they entered Meryton, however, they were bombarded by the attentions of their erstwhile chaperone, along with less good-natured well-wishers. Darcy put up with it very well, although he instantly reverted to his usual grave composure, his face blank of any emotion to all but those who knew him well. He endured the inevitable impertinences better than Elizabeth had expected, responding quietly and civilly when addressed, and wincing but rarely. Only the grip of his hands and a tightness around the eyes betrayed his discomfort. Jane and Bingley, naturally, were as blissfully unaware as ever and entered into conversation with Mrs Long and her three nieces.

The friendly ambush was of a piece with their lives for what seemed the next eternity. Little if any time was spent alone. Elizabeth, although she had never been particularly fond of the gossiping ladies of Meryton and their insipid offspring, was at first only displeased for Darcy's sake. She did her best to protect him from the worst of it, but only so much could be done. Later however, the trying company, particularly the incessant questions of the ladies, put such a strain on her, that she wished for nothing so much as to be free of it all. Some days she wondered how she had ever endured them for so long; and the promise of Pemberley was never so enticing as at the present.

She marvelled at her good fortune, as she watched Darcy struggling through a conversation with Sir William Lucas. She caught the words "brightest jewel," a gesture in her direction, followed by "St James," and sighed. Darcy maintained his composure admirably, but - Elizabeth stifled a giggle - shrugged his shoulders dismissively when the pretentious knight turned his back.

At least he waited. Not only had she found an honourable man of decidedly comfortable means, but one more than clever, and peculiar enough in himself to provide her with an endless source of amusement - every earthly blessing tied up in one neat, handsome package.

"I wrote to Charlotte about your engagement, Miss Eliza," Lady Lucas said. "I am sure she will congratulate you on such a fine catch."

Elizabeth cringed, for once glad that her intended was distant from her. "Thank you, Lady Lucas," she replied graciously. She glanced briefly at the other side of the room where Darcy and Mr Bennet stood. Over the last few days, as, it seemed, every corner of the house was invaded, the latter had grown quite disgruntled. For his daughter's sake (and also out of sheer desperation for even somewhat sensible conversation), he had approached his reserved son-to-be, and was astonished to find a kindred spirit in him. Equally unsociable, the two men had formed an alliance of like minds over fine sherry, philosophy, and rare books.

"Ah, Lizzy, there is little worthy of mockery in him," said Mr Bennet, "which is his greatest failing, I fear." He did not quite comprehend the nature of their attachment, for Darcy scarcely spoke of Elizabeth, and then with - as far as Mr Bennet could tell - no great feeling, while Elizabeth could and did wax eloquent on the subject of her beloved. Nevertheless, Darcy's actions spoke louder than his words, and Mr Bennet was glad to accept him.

"I am content with my choice," Elizabeth said mildly, but Mr Bennet caught the defensiveness in her look, and raised his eyebrows.

"You are very serious, my dear. Is he rubbing off on you, or has the company of your mother's friends overwhelmed your delicate sensibilities? Ah - I see, I have struck near the mark. Come, Lizzy, enjoy the absurdity while you still may. You will be free of it soon enough."

"Twenty-two days!" she said dismally.

Mr Bennet laughed. "Lizzy, my love, these weeks will be over before you know it."

"I am young and callow, Papa," said Elizabeth, smiling. "Three weeks of this is a lifetime."

Mr Bennet conceded that the latter was undoubtedly true. "Your intended certainly seems to think so."

Elizabeth smiled. "He does try, for my sake, but he really detests all of it. You and he seem to be getting on well, though." She raised her eyebrows and waited.

"He is rising every hour in my esteem," Mr Bennet assured her. "I admire all my three sons-in-law highly. Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane's."

Elizabeth's thoughts were in a whirl. She thought of Darcy's frown when he had looked at Jane, of the "Lady Ravenshaw" Bingley had mentioned, of the peculiar uncertainty in his manner to her, so unlike him; and then, brushing her lips with her hand, she shut her eyes and remembered the tentative, gentle first kiss, then, his fair hair smooth against her fingers as she drew him in for another, and finally, later - Elizabeth's lips curved into a slow smile.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth started violently, eyes flying open. "Jane!" she exclaimed, flushing deeply. "I did not hear you."

"I was not very quiet - you looked rather strange, Lizzy, just now."

Elizabeth laughed. "I daresay I did." For a brief moment, she tried to imagine a similar scene between her sister and brother-to-be. Perhaps, in a moment of thoughtless passion, Mr Bingley had lost himself and allowed his teeth to scrape against Jane's pale throat. She suppressed a giggle and a blush, the former in incredulity at the very idea, and the latter in reminiscence of exactly that. Jane would never, she was certain, behave as shamelessly as Elizabeth did. She smiled again. Darcy would never behave as shamelessly as she did.

"Lizzy? Lizzy!"

"Oh! I am sorry. I have so much to think on these days - but I am very glad to have you to share it with, Jane." She looked affectionately at her sister.

Jane clasped her hand, then smiled. "Oh Lizzy, I could not be any happier."

Elizabeth gazed at her, wondering not for the first time at how different they were. Jane's happiness was undoubtedly full and complete; but it was not what she would wish. She wanted - joy, and laughter, and passion, along with the gentle, mild, sweet affection that subsisted between Jane and her betrothed.

"I am glad for you, Jane," she said, after a moment's silence.

"And you, Lizzy?"

She blinked a little. "I?"

"Are you happy?" Jane pressed. Elizabeth's eyebrows flew up.

"Oh yes." She smiled ruefully. "I will be happier when I am away from all this, at Pemberley, with my husband." Her eyes softened, and she gazed towards the window, a little dreamily, before snapping back to the conversation. "I think you and Papa are all that I shall miss, Jane. Otherwise, these shall be the longest three weeks I have ever lived." Except, she thought, after I left Pemberley and thought I should never see him again.

Jane looked politely bewildered.

"Oh, well - all the ladies, they do not like me, you know - and it is so difficult for Darcy." She sighed. "He is not at his best, you know, in these situations. With strangers, and always being watched and judged and - it exhausts me, and I am not anywhere so retiring as he is."

"Yes, it is difficult," Jane agreed. Cautiously, she added, "I was so glad to go to London, when - that dreadful business happened last year, simply to be away from all the . . ."

"Prying eyes?" Elizabeth suggested.

Jane flushed. "Well, yes. They meant well, I am sure of it, but it can be so trying when one is not accustomed to it."

Elizabeth smiled a little sadly. "Yes, I think so. But I am happy, and when we are together - just us, or with you and Bingley - I have never been happier in my life, and I feel every day as if I could never be so happy again. Except, I am, more so every day. He is - he is so - I would never have dreamt it, that it would be like this." She laughed. "I am terribly silly over him - I tell him that it is all his fault, he has made me so silly, so unlike myself."

"You could never be silly, Lizzy."

"If I told you half the things that pass through my mind, you would not be able to say so," she replied, flinging herself back on her bed. "I am ridiculously happy, just knowing that he is there - somewhere - and that every day I shall be able to look at him, and tease him, and touch him, as much as I please."

Jane gasped. Elizabeth sat up straight. "Did I say that aloud? All of it?"

Her sister nodded, and Elizabeth covered her mouth, dissolving into giggles. "Oh, I am so sorry - I did not mean to embarrass you - but, dearest Jane, surely you have - " She stopped and considered what might constitute a romantic interlude for Jane and Bingley. A few stolen bird-like pecks; holding hands when certain no one would see - agreeing on every conceivable subject - no, somehow she did not think Jane's experience was quite the same as hers, for all that it was longer in duration. "Well," Elizabeth conceded, "perhaps not."

"Lizzy, what have you done?" a scandalised Jane protested. Elizabeth could not keep herself from laughing wickedly, falling back again. She flung one hand against her forehead, with a melodramatic sigh, then looked sideways at Jane.

"You must prepare yourself for something very awful, dear sister."

Jane bit back a smile. "Lizzy, please be serious. What if someone had seen you?"

"Oh, I made certain that could not happen. You see, he is so - careful, with me, that I was beginning to be afraid I should not be kissed until the day of the wedding, and I would really rather have more time to -" She coughed. "So I took him to the Mount and kissed him instead."

Jane's mouth dropped open. "Why, Lizzy - what did he say?"

Elizabeth smiled mischievously. "Very little, as I recall."

"He must have been very surprised."

"Not really." Elizabeth giggled into her pillow. "He knows me fairly well by now, I think."

"And - " Jane hesitated - "is that all?"

Turning her head to the side, and blushing a little - "No. I just said I loved him - very absently, not really thinking. I had not realised that he did not know." She frowned a little, recalling how he had looked. Radiantly happy, but also - he had been so very surprised. She briefly chewed her lip.

"He did not know?" Jane said in bewilderment. "But, wh - oh."

Elizabeth looked up. "What do you mean, 'oh?' "

Jane dropped her eyes. "I should not say. I do not want you to feel - of course you were right, but still, he cannot help but be - if it is anything like what I feel, then . . . oh, I am sorry." She took a deep breath, and turned Elizabeth's hand over, looking up at her anxiously. "After all those months of believing Bingley did not care for me, that he never had, sometimes it is difficult to really believe that - well, that he does care. Of course, he always did, and I know that, but I do not always feel it, if that makes sense."

"Yes," said Elizabeth, very soberly, "yes, it does."

"It helps," she added blushingly, "that he is so affectionate, but I must confess, Lizzy, after being unsure for so long, feeling so desolate, it is always rather astonishing. And - " She looked deeply uncomfortable - "I know that he really loved me all along, so it is not quite the same."

At Elizabeth's stricken expression, she earnestly said, "I do not blame you, I am certain he does not blame you, and he would not want you to make yourself unhappy over it - I am sure you were right; really, believing what you did about him, it would have been wrong to accept him, it is just, I know what it is like, loving someone so much, and yet - " tears actually rose to Jane's eyes, and she turned her head away. "Well, all I mean is that it can be very difficult sometimes."

"Oh, Jane." Elizabeth put her arms around her sister, who gasped a little, and allowed herself the luxury of crying one last time. "Jane, I am so sorry. I did not mean to remind you."

"I am well, truly, and so happy," Jane said; "it is only sometimes that one cannot help but - I am so glad I have had you with me. I do not know what I would have done without you, dearest sister. Only - you will write to me, when you are at Pemberley?"

Elizabeth pressed a kiss against Jane's dark hair. "I certainly shall. Oh!" She suddenly remembered Darcy's cryptic response to her questions about his peculiar behaviour around Jane. "Jane, Mr Darcy would like to speak to you tomorrow, if that is acceptable to you."

"Well, of course," Jane said in bewilderment, "he may speak to me whenever he wishes."

"No, not with the others. Alone." Elizabeth remembered his preoccupied, somehow guilty, expression, and restrained her impatience. "Perhaps on the way to Meryton, I shall walk with Mr Bingley and tell him stories about what an ill-behaved child you were."

Jane smiled absently. "Oh yes, that would be delightful."

"You must tell me, if it is not a great secret, for I am quite overwhelmed by curiosity," Elizabeth said. "He started to explain why, but Mrs Long interrupted us, so, you see, I do not know either."

"I will tell you all," Jane promised. "What could he have to say, that he could not mention before any of the others?"

The next day dawned bright and clear. As it was still earlier than Bingley or Darcy were usually expected, Elizabeth joined her father in the library, and after their normal conversation, Mr Bennet remarked casually, "I hope Mr Darcy's letter did not contain bad news."

Elizabeth stared. "What letter? Did he write? Is something wrong?"

Mr Bennet chuckled. "I would not be young again for all the world. No, I meant the letter that Mr Darcy received last evening. Did he not mention it to you?"

"No, I did not know - " she frowned. "I did not even see a letter."

"Undoubtedly because he ripped it up and threw it in the fireplace before he had read five lines," said Mr Bennet dryly. "Are you certain he did not mention it to you? He certainly intended to."

"No, he - " Elizabeth remembered, when the gentlemen had rejoined them, Darcy had seemed tense and preoccupied, more than usual, but she had attributed that to a particularly close press of neighbours. He disliked being close to other people. There had been a moment of brief respite - he had looked rather more intense than usual, had said, "Elizabeth, I - " but they had been interrupted again, and she had not guessed that it was anything of import. "I think, he meant to, but there were so many people . . ."

"Ah, that explains it."

"Did he say who it was from?" Elizabeth tried to think of any acquaintance who had the power and inclination to so disturb Darcy, and soon found herself at the inevitable answer, even as Mr Bennet replied, with great amusement,

"His aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. He wrote and sent the reply immediately."

"I wond - " Elizabeth stopped as the sound of a carriage arriving could be heard, and raced to the window. "Oh, it is only the Lucases," she said, disappointed. Mr Bennet laughed.

"Lizzy, they are never here before breakfast."

"I know, but - " Elizabeth shut her eyes, shook her head, and looked again. "Papa? Did you invite Mr Collins to the wedding?"

Mr Bennet considered his response to Mr Collins' diatribe. "No," he decided. "Why on earth do you ask?"

"Because, unless my eyes deceive me, he is walking up the drive this very moment. And Charlotte! Charlotte is here!"

A breathless Elizabeth flew into the parlour, just in time to greet her friend.

"I am so pleased for you, Eliza," Charlotte said, with a warm smile. "I always said he was partial to you, did I not?"

"Yes," laughed Elizabeth, "yes, you were positively prescient, Charlotte. And how are you? Is your chicken laying well? Oh! Mr Collins. It is lovely to see you too."

"Cousin Elizabeth," Mr Collins returned, bowing ponderously. "I, too, offer my congratulations on a most advantageous connection, despite the distress - the very great distress - inevitably caused to my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bour - "

"I'm sure Eliza knows all about her ladyship's objections," Lady Lucas interjected with a braying laugh. Elizabeth sighed, then smiled at her friend. At least there was one person whose company she could enjoy - though she was not certain it quite compensated for the sight of Darcy and Mr Collins in one room, the latter having evidently taken her father's advice as far as he was able.

The younger generation all opted to walk to Meryton, Charlotte and Elizabeth trying to cover as many matters as possible in a brief amount of time, Bingley being his usual agreeable self as he endured Mr Collins, while Jane and Darcy lagged behind, speaking softly and earnestly to one another.

Exhausting as the previous days had been, this one was only more so, and Elizabeth gratefully retired to her room for the night, having parted from her betrothed with nothing more than a decorous kiss on her hand. Before she could so much as sit on her bed, however, she was joined by Jane, who had been far quieter than usual since her discussion with Darcy. Her dark hair was loose and tangled enough that it was evident she had been running her fingers through it in agitation - she was clearly in a state of what passed for high dudgeon with her.

"What is it, Jane?" Elizabeth's mind went back to the conversation with Darcy, and she stepped forward, alarmed. "Jane, what did he say to you?"

"What did who say to me, Lizzy?" Jane asked, looking away.

"Mr Darcy, of course!"

"Oh, that he convinced Bingley I did not care for him, and knew I was in London, and never mentioned it." Jane waved her hand at this, her expression closed. "He apologised for that, and I asked him to use my Christian name." In a faintly wondering tone, she added, "He really felt very badly about his part in it."

Elizabeth sat down. "He told you? But why - "

Jane lifted up her head, perfectly still except for the fingers clenching and unclenching her shift. "Because, he said, I am to be his sister." There was no trace of accusation in her tone, even as she added, "He did not think it right, you see, to conceal such a thing from me, when we are to be so closely related."

Elizabeth stared at her. "Jane?"

"Elizabeth," said Jane, her dark eyes bright, "I can understand why Mr Darcy did what he did, and I understand why Bingley did what he did; but could you please - " she briefly chewed her lip - "could you please explain why, if you have known since April that Bingley truly cared for me, you never breathed a word of it?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Jane, Bingley was already gone by the time I found out. Telling you the entire tale would do no good - it could only add to your regret. It was Bingley's place to tell you what had happened."

Jane turned her head away. "I was right, then," she said softly.

"I beg your pardon?"

Jane lifted her chin. "I supposed," she said, "that you did not tell me, because you truly believed it best, because you could not possibly understand that - that - " she clasped her hands - "that I would have given the world to know that he had felt something, anything, for me."

"Jane - "

"That is why he understood," she continued reflectively; "Mr Darcy, that is - and I suppose it is why he feels so badly about it still. I tried to thank him for Lydia, you know. He said he did not deserve my gratitude - just laughed rather queerly and called it a penance for his sins."

Elizabeth did not entirely understand Jane's meaning, but she accepted that her silence had hurt her beloved sister, and apologised. Jane smiled wearily.

"It is quite all right," she said. "It is all over now, and I hope we have all learnt something from it. Lizzy - " there was a moment's hesitation - "take care."

Elizabeth lifted up her eyes. "Why, what do you mean?"

Earnestly, Jane said, "I know you only meant it for the best, but . . . but if you keep things from Mr Darcy, I think he will be far more distressed than I am. I only want you to be careful, Lizzy."

"I shall," Elizabeth promised.