A/N: Hello, all! I'm sorry for the longer-than-usual wait for this chapter. I had to finish up some first-semester work. Enjoy!


Fitzwilliam Darcy made significant progress in the three weeks following his fateful conversation with the Fitzwilliams and Georgiana.

The first thing he did after their discussion in the drawing-room was write to Colonel Forster, warning him about Wickham. With his letter, he sent evidence of the aforementioned man's previous unpaid debts, as well personal testimonies from the Lambton shopkeepers who had barred Wickham from their stores after waiting almost nine months for payment to no avail. Not one week later, Darcy received a reply.

Upon receiving Darcy's letter, Colonel Forster launched an investigation which proved to be very enlightening. Wickham had, it seems, accrued quite a bit of debt, both amongst the shopkeepers of Meryton and his fellow officers. His gambling debts were by far the most significant, and the formerly-admired gentleman found himself growing increasingly disfavored and beleaguered, despite his excess of charm. One particular officer, irate at the loss of 50 pounds, told the Colonel that Wickham had been fornicating with the bar keeper's daughter quite regularly, having had their first dalliance when they were both too foxed to employ reason. When further questioning revealed the accusation to be true, Wickham earned himself a black eye from a furious father and, more substantially, a tarnished reputation amongst the Meryton populace. Shopkeepers refused to offer him credit, mothers and fathers forbade their daughters from going near him, and the other officers rebuffed his company, fearing for their own reputation within the small town. Beset on all sides by his newly-acquired detractors, Wickham was forced to seek a new assignment. There was talk of sending him to Newcastle, but Colonel Forster and Colonel Shaw - the officer heading the Newcastle regiment - thought it best to keep Wickam as far from Gretna Green as possible. Thus, after much debate, it was decided that he would be shipped to a regiment in Plymouth, and half of his already-meagre salary would be sent back to the people of Hertfordshire until all of his debts were fulfilled.

Colonel Forster thanked Darcy profusely for the warning and assured him that, in the future, he would take far more prodigious care in watching his men. This news brought no little pleasure to Darcy, who, in turn, thanked his sister for encouraging his interference. The rest of the family was, of course, overjoyed that Wickham would no longer be a threat to the people of Hertfordshire or, it seemed, those who crossed him in the Southwest. He was being too closely watched to cause further trouble, and any move he tried to make came at the risk of corporal punishment - a threat, Darcy knew, that would keep the dastardly man in check.

This development was the commencement of what the Fitzwilliams could only assume to be Darcy's healing process. Although there was still an air of melancholy about him, the realization that it was not too late for change, as well as the steadfast support of his family, engendered in him a bit of hope.

And a little hope can go a long way.

He began eating more regularly and started making a renewed effort with his appearance, shaving routinely and actually taking care with his clothes. He also resumed his daily rides and went on frequent walks with Baran, much to the canine's pleasure. While these little things brought much relief to his family, the most extraordinary change, they realized, was in the social aspect of his life.

Darcy was determined to act as if always under Elizabeth's scrutiny. When faced with the dubious task of socialization, he would imagine himself beside her, encouraged by her playful charm and easy manner to continue in congenial conversation. Thus, he often found himself taking great pains to speak with people, just as she would. This effort was not reserved for his family alone - it was also exerted upon the residents of Lambton and Kympton.

Kympton was, perhaps, the only place outside of Pemberley where Darcy felt truly at ease. The small village was home to both the current and former staff of Pemberley, and, as such, everyone within was well-acquainted. The general air of the town was one of friendliness and good cheer, and none who entered could help but like it. All of the inhabitants had, at some point in time, worked for the Darcy family, be it under Fitzwilliam or George. There were even a few remaining residents who had worked for Edwin Darcy, Fitzwilliam's grandfather. Of course, every villager held Fitzwilliam in the highest respect and knew him to be a kind and generous, if somewhat distant Master. However, they, too, had noticed the recent change - and it was certainly a welcome one.

Darcy had, for the past few weeks, gone out of his way to ask after them. Never before had he taken so eager an interest in their daily affairs. He could often be found walking about the village with his hound and sister, offering a small smile and a tip of his hat to anyone who passed by. When people did stop to speak with him, he did not seem the least bit impatient or ornery, and they always left the conversation holding the affable gentleman in higher regard. He would talk to the residents, be they shopkeepers or stable boys, as if they were on equal footing - as if the boundaries of wealth and station did not exist. Many of them asked Mrs. Reynolds, the current housekeeper of Pemberley and Darcy's most trusted staff member, what had incited such a change within the Master, but they were disappointed to discover that she knew very little.

At least, that's what she told them.

In truth, Dorothy Reynolds knew far more than she let on. She had colluded often with the Fitzwilliams when they first arrived at Pemberley, wishing to identify the source of her Master's sorrow. Having known Darcy since he was only four years old, his despondency upon returning from Kent had pained her almost as much as it pained them, and she was determined to do whatever necessary to alleviate it. However, no answers were revealed until the kairotic conversation with his family - after which, Georgiana, having gained her brother's permission, related to the housekeeper the salient points of the whole ordeal. She was quite shocked to learn that any woman would reject a man of such means - 10,000 pounds was nothing to sniff at.

Of course, as his long-time housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds knew that Darcy made far more than 10,000 pounds per year - that was what Pemberley alone brought in. He owned several other, smaller lucrative estates - some in England and others in Scotland - as well as much land in the latter country. Add to that a number of highly successful investments, and Darcy's income came to almost 30,000 pounds per annum.

None outside of his immediate family knew this. Even the ever-esteemed Lady Catherine was unaware of her nephew's immense earnings, so sure her brother was that she would use it to her own advantage. It certainly didn't hurt to allow the matrons of the Ton, Catherine included, to believe that Darcy made far less than what was true - should they ever discover his actual income, the poor man would likely never again have a moment's peace. After all, even with his reported 10,000 pounds per year, he was still very much sought after.

It was for this reason that the Fitzwilliams could not help but be quite impressed by Miss Elizabeth Bennet. No lady with even a modicum of self-respect would have accepted such a proposal, of course, but Penny was well-acquainted with ways of the Ton - she knew that many a lesser woman would have been more than happy to abandon their dignity for the promise of such a great fortune. Yet, here you had Miss Elizabeth - a modest country girl with a small dowry and an entailed estate - who refused to demean herself by accepting a wealthy man whom she did not respect and did not love.

And there was more still.

Not only did Miss Elizabeth reject him despite his fortune, but she also succeeded in doing what his family had failed to do - correcting Darcy's behavior. They could not pretend that the provocation of his recent change was all their doing - the credit, they knew, belonged chiefly to her. She had planted the seeds while they had merely watered what was already growing. It took a special kind of person to arouse such a shift within another, and they dearly wished to meet the rare creature who had worked such magic.

But therein laid the issue at hand.


Penelope Fitzwilliam stared pensively into the fire of the drawing-room at Pemberley. She was exceedingly proud of the progress her nephew had made thus far, but her concern would not be so easily-repealed. While Darcy's health was, thankfully, on the mend, his spirits were still very much the same. There was an emptiness about him that Penny feared only Miss Elizabeth could fill. It was not enough for her to see him healthy.

She wanted him to be happy.

So, how were they to reunite the young couple?

The obvious answer was for Darcy to return to Hertfordshire. However, he had no business there other than seeing Elizabeth. Andrew suggested convincing Bingley to return to Netherfield, both for Darcy's sake and his own, but Darcy was adamantly against the idea - he would not send Bingley back unless he was certain of a warm reception. He did not want to cause his dear friend any more pain, nor did he wish to further injure Miss Bennet by forcing her into the presence of a man she did not want to see. Thus, their options were severely limited, and no one could think of a reasonable plan.

Although his behavior had been deplorable, Penny was convinced that they could improve Miss Elizabeth's opinion of Fitzwilliam - just look at all the progress he'd made already! She would be faced with a very different Darcy, indeed...one she could not help but like. They just needed an opportunity to get them back together.

So deep was Penny in her contemplation of such an opportunity that she failed to hear the knock at the door. It was not until her husband called her name that she came back to herself.

"Are you quite well?" He asked concernedly, closing the door behind him.

"Yes," she smilingly reassured him. "I am only thinking of how we can help Fitzwilliam. I cannot stand all this sitting about. We must act."

"Ah, I must confess to pondering it as well. Though we can hardly act without a plan."

"And have you any ideas?" Penny asked hopefully, only to be disappointed by the gentle shake of his head.

It was then that she noticed the letter in her husband's hands. Andrew recognized the direction of his wife's gaze and handed her the missive.

"Forgive me, my love, I came to give you this. It is from Madeline." He said, moving to sit beside her on the sofa.

Penny's face lightened considerably at the news. The Gardiners were very dear friends of theirs, and it was always a joy to hear from them.

Andrew Fitzwilliam and Edward Gardiner had become business partners about six years ago, with Mr. Gardiner's warehouses being a certifiable goldmine and Andrew having the connections necessary to turn an excellent profit. Despite this mercenary beginning, the two men took to each other quite quickly and began spending time together purely for the pleasure of it. They both appreciated the other's unassuming nature and brotherly disposition, and they found in each other the sibling they had either lost too early in life or simply never received. Of course, neither was inclined to care for the difference in station, generous as it may be - it actually became something of a joke between them. What started as a business proposition soon developed into what would become a life-long friendship. Thankfully, their wives got on just as well, and the two couples found themselves spending a great deal of time in each other's company, enjoying every moment of it. Andrew was rarely seen at White's without Edward, and Penny and Madeline did a considerable amount of charity work together. The Earl and Countess also absolutely adored the four Gardiner children and would take every available opportunity to dote on them, dearly missing the days when their children were so young.

In the spring, Madeline had mentioned a possible two-month trip through Derbyshire, as both she and her husband wished to tour the Lakes. Andrew and Penny responded by saying that the Lakes really weren't all that grand - they had much better spend their two months at Craigspeak. This was, of course, suggested with good-humor and no real pressure to comply, much as the Earl and Countess longed to see their friends for more than a few days.

Therefore, it was with great excitement that Penny opened the letter, hoping that it bore good news.


June 29th, 1812

Penelope Fitzwilliam

Derbyshire

My dearest friend,

I hope you and Andrew are well. It has been far too long since we last saw you, and I must confess to missing you terribly. However, I cannot say I begrudge you your preference of the country. The weather down South is becoming much too hot for my tastes, and I find myself longing for the colder climate of my old home. Edward, too, has been craving the outdoors. I fear he will attempt to cast into the Thames if we do not leave the city soon. He still speaks of the 22-inch trout he caught at Craigspeak those two years ago - I do not believe there is a single man within his warehouses who has not heard the story.

Thus, we have decided to take you up on your offer, assuming it is no great imposition. Unfortunately, business calls my husband back sooner than expected, and we will only be able to stay one month. I wish we had more time, but it will be a joy to spend what little we do have with you. As of now, the plan is to arrive around the 16th of July, so please let us know if that is amenable.

I do have one favor to ask, however. Our niece, Lizzy, has been out of sorts as of late, and I think it would do her good to get out of Hertfordshire for a time. Do I ask too much in requesting that she accompany us? I have long wished for you to meet her, you know, and this would be the perfect opportunity.

Coincidentally, I believe she is already acquainted with some members of your family. She spent a good deal of the spring in Kent, where she made the acquaintance of your sister-in-law, Lady Catherine, as well as that of your youngest son. For reasons unknown to me, the topic seems to distress her, and she does not like to dwell on it for long. Therefore, I have not yet told her of our connection with you, as I fear it will serve only to unnerve her.

Truth be told, I am concerned. She has not been herself since she returned from Kent, and it pains me greatly to see her so dispirited. Worse still, I have no idea what caused this change in behavior, so I can do very little to help her. I recall you saying that your sister-in-law could be trying, but Lizzy has never been one to be cowed by those who think themselves superior. Of course, I know she has nothing to fear from you. It is my hope that your warmth and kindness, as well as the beauty of Derbyshire, will enliven her a bit. Perhaps she will even open up about the events of the spring when she sees that you and Andrew are not so fractious as your sister-in-law.

I hope that your children - though they are hardly children anymore, I know - will be home this summer. Edward and I have not seen them in many years, and I should like to know how they take after their parents.

I eagerly await your reply and hope to see you very soon.

Best wishes,

Madeline Gardiner


Penelope Fitzwilliam reread the letter once, twice, thrice - even then, she could not quite believe it. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she put the pieces together.

The Gardiner's favourite niece...was Elizabeth Bennet! She had to be! There were no other women staying with Catherine in the spring, and Madeline had said that the girl needed to get out of Hertfordshire. Lord, how had she forgotten? The Gardiners had five nieces! There were five Bennet sisters - and Madeline had mentioned a 'Dear Jane' before. Oh, and Edward's sister! He had said that she was worrisome and prone to hysterics - exactly as Fitzwilliam described Mrs. Bennet. It had to be the Bennets. Lizzy had to be Elizabeth.

Still, it seemed too good to be true.

"Penny?" Her husband questioned, bewildered by her silent astonishment and wild eyes. "Is everything alright? Has something happened with the Gardiners?"

Without offering anything in the way of a reply, Penelope shot up from her seat and raced to the door, calling for a servant. When a flustered young lady arrived, she asked that everyone in her family - save for Vincent and Juliana - be called to the drawing-room immediately. With a curtsy, the girl left, leaving the Countess alone with her husband.

Andrew approached her with trepidation, fearing the worst. It was only when his wife turned to him with a wide smile that his concern disappeared, being replaced by curiosity.

"I shall tell you all when the others arrive," his wife grinned, "but know that we now have the perfect opportunity to help Fitzwilliam!"

"I'm sorry?" He asked, utterly baffled by the statement. "That letter was from the Gardiners, yes? How are they to aid us?"

"You recall that we both recognized Miss Elizabeth's name but could not place it?" At her husband's nod, she continued, almost giggling with delight. "Miss Elizabeth is their niece! She is the Lizzy they speak so frequently about! And she is to come to Derbyshire with them!"

Andrew stared at her in amazement, mouth hanging open in an almost comical fashion. "Are you certain?" He finally asked, reaching for the letter.

However, before he could grab it, the door burst open, and in rushed Fitzwilliam, followed by his sister and cousins. All five of them looked troubled, and they did a once-over of the room as if trying to ascertain whether or not their anxiety was warranted.

"Is something the matter, Aunt?" Darcy questioned worriedly. "Miss Gibbs said you looked quite distressed."

"No!" She responded quickly. "No, I am not distressed...I am excited!"

"Excited, Mother?" Richard queried, perplexed by his mother's enthusiasm. She had been rather listless since learning of Darcy's failed proposal, and he could not account for this change of attitude. Unless...

"Fitzwilliam," she said, grabbing his hands with her free one. A small part of her believed that some preface to her news was needed, but the reflection was quickly drowned out by her eagerness to share it. "Miss Elizabeth is to come to Derbyshire!"

Darcy's heart stopped. "I...I beg your pardon?"

"She is coming to Derbyshire with her Aunt and Uncle!"

Darcy was silent. He blinked a few times, determined to awake himself from whatever cruel dream he'd slipped into. Surely, she could not be serious? Elizabeth was coming to Derbyshire? No, the odds were too low - they could never be so much in his favour. But, try as he might, he could not awaken himself. He was still standing in the drawing-room, being grinned at by his very animated Aunt. He needed to say something, he knew, but all he could utter was a quiet, "How?"

Penny waved the letter in front of him, amused by his disbelief. "We've just received a letter from the Gardiners, and th-"

"The Gardiners?" Lawrence interrupted. "Your friends from Town?"

"Yes!" His Aunt exclaimed. "Oh, you will never guess...they are Elizabeth's Aunt and Uncle!"

"Are you certain?" Richard questioned, echoing the earlier concerns of his father. They could not instill his cousin with false hope - the poor man would be crushed.

Penelope silently handed the letter to her nephew, and the room's occupants crowded around it, all wishing to see the news for themselves.

After a moment, Richard hesitantly remarked, "There were no other women with us in the Spring - only Mrs. Collins and her younger sister, but this could not possibly be referring to either of them."

Georgiana grabbed her brother's arm, almost shaking with excitement. "Do people call her Lizzy, Fitzwilliam?"

Darcy merely nodded, eyes remaining fixated on the writing before him. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman in question was Elizabeth - he had heard her people call her Lizzy several times, and, as Richard said, there were no other ladies with them at Rosings, save for Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas. It was terribly dangerous to hope, he knew, but the sentiment crawled up his chest all the same, taking root in his heart and head.

However, he found one part of the letter uniquely troubling. It said that his Elizabeth was dispirited - out of sorts. The report distressed him greatly. He truly could not imagine her thus, and he dearly wished to know what had caused it. Was it one of her sisters? Her mother? Was it...him? It said that the shift only occurred after she returned from Rosings. Did she regret her words as much as he regretted his? Oh, perish the thought - it was too good to be true!

But what if it was true? He could not stand the thought of her being downcast, much less at his expense, but if it meant that she had changed her mind about him…

No. No, he was being presumptuous. There could be any number of reasons for her somberness - it was ridiculous to attribute it to himself. In all likelihood, Elizabeth barely gave him a passing thought. Why would she? She had no reason to think better of him.

Yet, was that not the opportunity being presented to him? A chance to change her mind? Darcy let out a groan, rubbing his face in agitation. The battle between elation and trepidation was quickly becoming exhausting, and his mind was running in circles, attempting to sort its feelings on the matter.

His thoughts only ceased when his Aunt grabbed his face. She could see his warring emotions, and she sought to put an immediate end to the conflict. "Fitzwilliam," she said firmly, "I am sorry to spring this on you. I should have given you a warning. But I promise you - this is a good thing. This is the opportunity you need. You will have a month to change Miss Elizabeth's opinion of you, perhaps more if you convince Bingley to return to Netherfield. If she truly is a sensible girl, she cannot ignore the changes you've made."

Darcy hesitated. "But what if she does not kn-"

"No heart is impregnable, Fitzwilliam," his Uncle cut in, wishing to ease the dear boy's concerns. "And Madeline said that she has not been herself since returning from Kent. I very much doubt that it is a simple coincidence, much as you may try to convince yourself of the contrary."

"Use this time to befriend her," Penny implored. "Your father and mother were good friends before they started courting, as were Andrew and I. Just...get to know her. Ask her questions, show her the country. Show her you - abandon the mask you don in strange company and show her how you've changed."

His Uncle nodded in agreement, grabbing his wife's hand and smiling down at her. "Your father and I both married our dearest friends. That is what you must do. I know it may be agony to wait for her love, but it will be all the more puissant if you gain her friendship first."

Darcy watched his Aunt and Uncle yearningly. He wanted what they had. He wanted what his parents had when they were alive - and he wanted it with Elizabeth.

His mind was made up. He would seek to befriend her before anything else. It would certainly require little effort to evoke such feelings in himself. He already felt an infrangible connection to Elizabeth, and it would undoubtedly grow stronger as they spent more time together. In his mind, she was already a friend. The biggest obstacle, he knew, would be her own feelings. Although he was unsure of his current stance with her, Darcy couldn't deny the fact that he was much lower than he wished to be - perhaps too low to be considered anything more than an acquaintance. He needed to show her how similar they were - how much he enjoyed her company and how much she could enjoy his. He would not hide his feelings or contain his smiles this time.

He would be himself.

"I know it may sound scandalous," his Aunt commented, her own thoughts mirroring his, "but I must tell you - there is often little value in restraint, particularly in terms of love and passion. It will serve only to convince others of your indifference."

Penny knew her nephew to be a passionate man - whatever he felt, he felt strongly. If they were to succeed, Miss Elizabeth would need to be aware of that. She would need to be among the small group of people who saw Darcy without his reserve and accepted him as he was.

"I do not plan on concealing my feelings, Aunt. It served me ill in Hertfordshire and Kent, and I will not allow a repeat performance. Elizabeth must know how I feel before I voice anything she does not wish to hear. I cannot afford to take her by surprise again."

"That is good," Elinor supplied, "but you must keep in mind the discrepancy of your feelings. Miss Elizabeth will not feel as strongly at first, and you run the risk of frightening her if you move too quickly."

Darcy chuckled at that, saying, "I doubt very much I'm capable of frightening Elizabeth. As her Aunt said, she is not easily cowed." After a moment, he added, "Still, I see your point, Cousin. I intend to be honest and forthright, but I will move slowly. A firm friendship does not sprout overnight, and that is the present goal."

Georgiana latched onto her brother's arm and jumped in excitement. "What is the plan, then?"

"I will write back to Madeline and explain the situation," Penny debriefed, having gone over the scheme in her head dozens of times during the course of the conversation. "I trust her to handle the matter with discretion. I will request that she and Edward bring Elizabeth to Pemberley instead of Craigspeak. I cannot ask them to lie to their niece, but perhaps if there were a change of plans upon arriving in Derbyshire...It would only be a lie of omission."

The last part was admitted with some guilt. Penelope was not a naturally duplicitous woman, and she was generally opposed to any approach which employed the use of deceit - but she could not think of another option. Should they be completely honest with Miss Elizabeth, the poor girl might opt out of the trip altogether. They just needed to get her to Pemberley. If she saw that she was welcome, she would likely be willing to stay. How could she not when she saw how changed Fitzwilliam was? Surely, she would be curious, if nothing else.

Darcy hesitantly nodded. It was a suitable strategy, if a bit underhanded. Still, he would not be so laissez-faire in the consideration of his love's reaction. "We cannot discount the possibility of Elizabeth being unsettled here. Even if she does not...hate me, she may be discomfited at the prospect of staying in the home of a man she rejected."

"If that is the case," Andrew said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder, "we will invite her and the Gardiners back to Craigspeak. You would accompany us, of course, but she would likely be more at ease in the home of another, especially one her Aunt and Uncle have stayed at before. I think it would better serve our cause if she were to stay here, but I understand your concern - we will make little progress if she is uncomfortable. However, we must also keep in mind that, as of now, she does not know your feelings. She may very well believe that you resent her for her rejection and would not wish to impose upon you."

Darcy almost laughed at the notion - he could never resent Elizabeth. What did she say that he did not deserve? In particulars, she was, perhaps, a bit off, but her assessment of his character had been entirely veracious. And look what good had come from her admonishment! Were it not for her, he would have continued in pride and conceit, fatally unaware of his contemptible spirit.

Oh, it was dangerous, he knew, to hope that her heart could be swayed in his favour. Yet, he could not help it. There was a lightness in his chest at the thought of seeing her, and he found himself unable to contain his smile. For a moment, he forgot the others in the room - his mind was too full of her. She would see his home. She would meet his family! Would she like Derbyshire? Would she like Pemberley? Would she...want to stay? How desperately he wished it to be so! Darcy was determined to do everything in his power to make Elizabeth feel at home. Pemberley was his favourite place in the world, and he should like it to be hers, as well.

For the first time since hearing the news, Darcy was excited. He was still nervous, of course, but there was a fluttering in his stomach that made him feel quite silly - jittery, almost, with a sudden urge to run around. There was much to do! He would have to confer with Mrs. Reynolds - it was a matter of utmost importance that Elizabeth and her relatives received the finest care imaginable. He had no doubt his loyal housekeeper would do just that and more - oh, she would be so pleased to hear of this turn of events!

Now, what rooms should he have aired out? An irrational part of him wished to put Elizabeth in the family wing, but such a thing could easily perturb her if misconstrued. No, the guest wing would have to do for now, much as it pained him. Still, which room? The eau de nil one, perhaps? The colour scheme was similar to that of his own chamber, and it had a beautiful view of the informal garden. Or maybe the marshmallow room? It was not as beautiful as the former, but it was closer to the library. Oh, perhaps she would like the heliot-

Darcy was shaken from his admittedly frivolous musings by a sudden tap to his shoulder. He turned to find his sister deep in thought, looking down in consternation.

"Fitzwilliam?" She asked, looking at her now slightly discomposed brother. "The Bingleys and the Hursts are to arrive in two weeks' time, are they not?"

Oh.

Dammit.

With all the excitement, he'd quite forgotten about his other guests. Bingley, of course, he'd be delighted to see, and he was confident that the amiable man would have no scruples with Elizabeth's presence. If anything, it provided Darcy with the perfect opportunity to right another wrong. When Elizabeth was feeling more comfortable in his company, he could ask her if she believed her sister to still be attached to Bingley. If the answer was positive, he would inform his friend straight-away, and Bingley could return to Netherfield. This plan had the added bonus of earning Darcy more time with Elizabeth, as he would undoubtedly accompany his friend. Oh, that would be perfect - to truly get to know Elizabeth in her own home! He had squandered his chances of doing so last autumn, and he would have it done again.

Yes, Bingley, he decided, would be most welcome. Caroline, however, would likely pose a problem. The orange-bedizened harpy was fully set on becoming the next Mistress of Pemberley, unaware that both its Master and its staff disrelished her greatly. She had about as great a chance of fulfilling her ambition as the capon being plucked in Pemberley's kitchens - in fact, Darcy would prefer the junglefowl for a wife. Were it not for Bingley, he would have cut ties with her years ago.

Still, he could not do Charles such a great disservice - he tolerated the woman, if only for the sake of his friend. As might be expected, Darcy did everything he could dissuade Miss Bingley from pursuing her ridiculous design, though nothing worked. He had accused Elizabeth of deliberately misunderstanding him, but Caroline did so to an even greater degree. Every small sign of hospitality on his part was construed by her as a hint of attachment. Had he helped her into the carriage? Clearly, he thought her the best woman of his acquaintance! Had he pulled a chair out for her? Well, that was practically a proposal! The mental gymnastics she went through to reach such nonsensical conclusions remained an ever-vexing mystery to Darcy.

He would not let her malicious tongue and vitriolic temperament ruin his chances with Elizabeth.

Richard, sensing the turn of his cousin's mind, pronounced, "Ah, worry not, Darce. We shall ensure that Feathers does nothing to hinder your progress."

Andrew and Lawrence guffawed at Richard's statement while the ladies stifled a giggle. 'Feathers' had become Miss Bingley's not-so-endearing nickname amongst the family. The first time they invited the Bingleys to Craigspeak, eager to meet Darcy's new friend from Cambridge, Caroline had worn one of the most ostentatious, tasteless headdresses the Fitzwilliams had ever seen - which was quite a feat for a family so used the fashion of the Ton. It was a full turban made of bright orange velvet, ornamented with bead and lace trimmings, as well as a large cluster of ostrich feathers and a double plume of peacock feathers. Darcy had warned them, beforehand, that she was a woman of garish tastes, but they had still been wholly unprepared for the sight - she could barely alight from the carriage with all the feathers stacked on her head. The Fitzwilliams were struggling to keep their composure, and when Andrew quietly remarked, "She's going to fly away," the younger members of the family lost it completely. Thus, the nickname was born. They tried to keep it between themselves, of course, but they were unaware that both the staff of Pemberley and Craigspeak had adopted it, as well.

"It will not be difficult to distract her, Fitzwilliam," Penelope affirmed laughingly. "You know how she fawns over your Uncle and me. Should she become too troublesome, we need only engage her in conversation."

"Ah," Andrew bemoaned in jest, "the sacrifices we make for this family, my dear!"

Darcy chuckled at this, shaking his head, "I will make it up to you, Uncle. Perhaps I will miss a few times on our next hunting trip so that you may finally best me."

Andrew laughed jovially, grabbing his nephew's shoulders. "Careful, boy. Everyone knows I'm a far better shot than you." If he saw his wife shake her head, he said nothing - she could make up for it when they retired to their chambers.

"All you need to do," he continued earnestly, "is remain on your present path. There is no greater joy than a union of love and friendship. If Miss Elizabeth is the woman you believe you can have that with, we will do all we can to help you - even endure Miss Bingley's shallow plaudits."

Without thinking, Darcy embraced his Uncle, and the older man was all too happy to return the gesture. Penny smiled at the sight, relieved to see her nephew returned to some sense of normalcy.

The warmth in Darcy's chest threatened to overwhelm him. The band that had been constricting his heart for the past three months finally snapped, and it left him feeling more hopeful than he had since the death of his father. It was an odd feeling - freeing, almost. He felt himself unshackled from the despair that had long since grounded him, able to breathe freely and move unfettered towards his greatest desire.

His greatest desire, of course, being Elizabeth's hand and heart.

It would not be easy, he knew, but it no longer seemed impossible. His family would be there to guide him, and they seemed quite certain of his success. What had he done to deserve them? How was he ever to repay them? He supposed the best thing he could do was exactly what his Uncle said - marry his dearest friend. They wanted nothing but his happiness, and that is what he needed to achieve it.

So that is what he would do.

"Aunt?" He asked after a moment. "Are the Gardiners in trade?"

Penny sent her nephew a questioning glance. "Yes, Mr. Gardiner owns several warehouses. He's a very successful businessman."

Darcy grinned. "Do they live near Cheapside?"

"Yes," she answered, bemused by his line of questioning. "Edward wishes to stay close to his warehouses. They are quite well-off, though. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," Darcy laughed. "But Miss Bingley will be quite put-out."