A/N: My best curtsey to Wyndwhyspyr, who caught the 100th review! Thank you!

Darcy is indeed planning on getting some breathing room . . . but that isn't happening *quite* yet.

I'd apologize for the extensive flashback in this chapter . . . but I like flashbacks so . . . sorry/not sorry?


Chapter Five

"Lizzy, calm down!" Jane called from her seat at the breakfast table.

Elizabeth was piling shirred eggs on her plate at the sideboard the morning after the Hastings' party. It had to be said, however, that her inner agitation was making her hands shake as she did so. "I am doing my best," she ground out.

Mrs. Bennet burst into the parlor at that point, holding a lace handkerchief. "Oh, Jane! We must have Mr. Bingley over for a family dinner. You cannot deny he is a man worth having! Such manners! Did you see his carriage?"

Mary eyed her mother with disdain and ignored her gushing opportunism. "Papa, I wish to visit the attic to see if there is another bench for the pianoforte, so that Miss Darcy and I might have a bit more room to practice together."

Mr. Bennet met his youngest's eyes. "Of course, Mary. Hill can send one of the grooms up to check for you." His eyes twinkled with humor. "Your gowns will not tolerate the attics, I daresay."

After plucking two pieces of toast from another plate, Elizabeth sat at the table next to her father, who sat at its head. She contrived to be as far from her mother as was feasible. She was so angry with her. So. Very. Angry. Even though her father had reminded her, correctly, that she herself had not been wronged, she was angry with her mother and she didn't know how to work through it.

Her emotions had been churning since she'd touched Mr. Darcy's hand, skin to skin, the night before. As soon as the Bennet family returned to Longbourn, she had pulled her father aside.

"Papa, I must speak to you."

He patted her arm. "Of course, my Lizzy. You have been acting skittish since we played that ridiculous game." He peered into her eyes, his own sharp and concerned. "Shortly after that fellow, Sir Merwin, sat next to you. Did he importune you, Lizzy?" With a frown, he drew her arm through his and escorted her to his library, shutting the door behind them.

The fire, laid in advance by servants Elizabeth made a mental note to thank, crackled in welcome as she took her favorite chair before it, just has her father took his.

"Who is Sir Merwin Hawkins?" she asked, trying to settle herself while self-consciously rubbing the arm with her Soulmark. "It's odd. I feel as if we'd been introduced and he wasn't greeted as a newcomer by anyone, but . . . I can't remember seeing him before. Have you?"

Her father leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. "No, my dear. But I agree, he felt both new and familiar. Did he say something untoward? Do I need to call him out?"

Elizabeth managed to smile. "No, Papa. The worst thing he did was to make an error in the game and require Mr. Darcy to give up his chair."

Mr. Bennet cocked one gray brow. "And losing Mr. Darcy put you thus out of sorts?"

"No, Papa!" she insisted, feeling her cheeks heat with her blush. "Not at all, but . . . I must ask you. How did it feel when you first touched my mother's ungloved hand?"

All humor fled from his eyes, then. It was as if he'd closed every door usually open to her in their private conversations. "Lizzy. What makes you ask this?"

"Papa! You know I also have a Soulmark. What happens when I meet my soulmate? You said Merlin was behind it all . . . how could he make sure his choices were known?"

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. "You do need to know, so I'll tell you. The first time there is a touching of an ungloved hand, there is a burning sensation. At least, that is what I have been told."

A burning sensation! Just what had happened to her that evening! Impulsively, she covered her right hand with her left and hoped her father hadn't noticed.

She had burned! And Mr. Darcy had appeared quite startled as well; she could only imagine he had felt the same. Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded within her. She was grateful that the room had only the fire to light it. Well, she barely knew the man . . . but he wasn't in London and she had vowed to wed in the country . . . and . . .

With a flick of her wrist, she settled back into her chair, though with a firm grip on each of the armrests. The old, golden upholstery was familiar and worn there, and she drew comfort from it.

Her father rose to his feet and crossed the room to where he kept his not-at-all hidden bottle of brandy. It seemed as if he needed liquid reinforcement. She half-wished to ask for a small sip of her own, but that would be unseemly so she did not.

Determined to hear all of it, she asked, "You then, did not burn." He lifted the brandy bottle in silent agreement and she continued. "So you married my mother even though you were not soulmates? Was that hard? You must have loved her very much?"

She didn't think he did, at this time of his life, for he rarely seemed to spend time in her company. It was not something she had ever seen without regret.

Her father poured his drink and returned to his chair with an expression both severe and penitent. "That is the story I keep for others, my Lizzy. But you, as one chosen of Merlin the Everliving, should know the truth. Just in case."

"The truth?" she'd whispered.

"Yes. Your mother deceived me."

"Deceived you, Papa? How?"

"She had her servants talk to my servants and paid off enough of them, I imagine, to learn that I had a Soulmark. What it was and where it was were also shared with her, I learned later. I do not want to tell you how much she and her family spent to have it duplicated with some kind of dye on her wrist, but so it happened."

Elizabeth found herself falling from her chair to sit at her father's feet as she had when she'd been very young. "I'm so sorry."

He patted her head with his free hand. "Yes, well. We certainly had spoken often, and danced at the assemblies, but always with our gloves on, as was proper." He waited until she nodded her comprehension, then continued. "At length, I was invited to dine with the family, and I accepted. I had planned only to marry my soulmate, Lizzy. You need to know that. I felt my duty keenly, then, and as a young man heir to an entailed estate, I deemed it wise to seek my soulmate out to bring a son to the line and break the entail."

"Of course, Papa." Lizzy's heart was thumping nervously, though she knew—somewhere, somehow, she knew—what he would reveal.

"We did not, of course, wear our gloves at dinner. And she was seated next to her me by her mother, who was forwarding our match, even though I had not entered into any formal arrangement. I was just the new, single gentleman in the neighborhood, who had current ownership of Longbourn."

Much like Charles Bingley, Elizabeth mused to herself, thinking with subdued nausea as to what her mother might even that evening have been plotting. "Was there dancing?"

"No, but she contrived to drop her handkerchief and when I—being a gentleman—retrieved it for her, she pressed my hand in hers and I felt it, Lizzy. I felt heat in her hand and mine and believed that she was my soulmate."

Lizzy's stomach clenched as her father swallowed back the entire rest of his drink at that juncture. "But how . . .?"

"Let me finish and then we can put this behind us, all right?"

"Of course." She tried to smile encouragingly, but he didn't seem to see her. He was staring at the fire.

"Though I hadn't felt any strong passion or anything for Miss Gardiner at that time, I made it my business to pursue her ardently. The banns were posted and we were wed within two months. I had, once we were properly engaged, asked to see her Soulmark and she acted as if it were a great intimacy, so I indulged her and only took a peek, as she did at mine." He grimaced and finally looked at Elizabeth again. "She played her role well, my girl. Your mother was determined. She has great strength of will."

"Oh, Papa." She had no words.

He sighed. "Well, as you and your sisters have seen, Fanny doesn't have a Soulmark. She never did. The drawing on her arm that matched mine faded just weeks after we returned from our honeymoon tour. But by then, of course, your elder sister was on the way and there was no crying off, was there? She was to have been a boy . . ."

"But your wife was not your soulmate," Elizabeth whispered. "And you did not love her." She felt broken to say it.

"No, but I am not the first man to be foolish enough to marry a pretty woman only to be disappointed later. I shan't be the last. My dear, calm yourself. Return to your seat."

"I'm angry, Papa."

He nodded and set his empty glass aside. "I understand that, but she is your mother. She did not wrong you, my dear. She was trying to do her best to make the best match she could."

"But she deceived you!"

He rose to his feet and helped her to hers. "Well, I persevered, but we never had a son and so, my Lizzy, I have invested for your dowries like a proper father and hope that you will find men worthy of you. Which brings me back to tonight. The only man I believe you touched this evening was Mr. Darcy. Did you . . . feel anything?"

"I did."

He patted her hand and kissed the top of her head. "Well, you are not obligated to acknowledge it, my girl. But if you do, I will want to see his Soulmark with my own eyes."

"I don't blame you in the least, Papa. But I don't imagine it will be necessary."

That morning over breakfast, she all but attacked her toast with the butter knife. Jane, who sat next to her, tapped her arm. "Lizzy. Perhaps if you are that hungry, you might try your eggs first?"

Elizabeth only then noticed the aggressive manner of her buttering and had to laugh a little. "You are as wise as always, Jane."

"Well, if Elizabeth had only spent time talking to the gentlemen, last night, she wouldn't be in such a state this morning!" Mrs. Bennet cried from her end of the table.

It took a great deal of restraint, but Elizabeth managed to answer her mother with civility. "Indeed, Mama, I conversed with Mr. Darcy and Sir Merwin Hawkins as well as Sir William Lucas."

"Sir William! A married man! Sir Merwin is elderly and I know nothing about him. Hill? Hill?"

"Now you've done it," Mary pronounced from across the table. Her smile was wry. "Perhaps I should take my aunt up on her invitation to London sooner rather than wait until after Christmas."

By virtue of ignoring her mother's speculation regarding the eligibility of Sir Merwin Hawkins—whom no one could remember anything about, yet everyone seemed to feel belonged to their small society—Elizabeth got through breakfast and decided to take a walk afterward.

"I am quite unsettled in mind, Jane," she told her sister. "Maybe a mile or two under my boots will help."

Jane only smiled. "I hope so. And if you see our Netherfield neighbors? Do give them my regards."

"How very forward of you, Jane!" Lizzy teased.

"I learn by watching you, Elizabeth!"

After donning a spencer and hat, as well as her gloves, Lizzy set out to a walk in the crisp, autumn air. The leaves beneath her sturdy boots crunched soothingly, reminding her of where she lived, of who she was, with or without her Soulmark. She was just returning to the house, finally calm and determined to only act in the way which would see to her personal happiness without regard to any mark of Merlin, when she heard a deep voice call her name.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

She started and had to take a breath to regain her equilibrium. "Mr. Darcy! Mr. Bingley. It is an unexpected pleasure," she managed to say.

Mr. Bingley's smile was bright as he seemed to look behind her. "Are you all alone, Miss Elizabeth? Did, do neither of your sisters walk with you?"

She smiled at him, happy to see an interest that could have nothing to do with Soulmarks. "No, Mr. Bingley. I am the avid walker in our family. But my sisters are at home, if you were wishing to call."

"Well," Mr. Bingley said after an awkward pause and look at his friend, "Darcy, here, was saying he wished to call on your father and I thought to accompany him."

Trepidation swept through Elizabeth, settling in her stomach. "To call on my father, Mr. Darcy?" Did it have to do with what had happened the night before? The Soulmark? He could not be thinking of approaching her father, could he?

Mr. Darcy's cheeks seemed to darken with a blush. "Er, yes, Miss Elizabeth. On a matter regarding my sister," he added with emphasis. He kept his focus on her face. "I must go to London for two or three days on business, and wished to speak to your father before I did so."

Her relief was total and she smiled at him, perhaps more broadly than she might have intended. "Well, I am sure he will be happy to receive you. Shall we go together?"

The walk back to Longbourn was less fraught than it might have been, and Elizabeth credited Mr. Bingley entirely. His open, easy manners made light conversation simple and before too long, they were at her home and she ushered them inside.

Mr. Bingley was happy to be met by Jane and Mary, who were in the parlor by the fire.

"I'll go find Papa," Lizzy told Mr. Darcy, who stood only barely inside the small room with its cheerful blaze. Bingley was happy to take a chair and converse with the young women, seemingly oblivious that it was rather too early for a proper morning call.

Lizzy hurried to the library, where her father was at his desk with a ledger. "Papa? Mr. Darcy is here and wished to speak with you."

His gaze sharpened behind his spectacles and he set aside his pen. "Does he indeed?"

"About his sister, he said," Lizzy assured him. "If there was anything else, he did not mention it to me."

"Very well, send him in."


E/N: Some of you might already have an idea about where the coming conversation might go, beyond Darcy's stated intention...