The next day the spring sunshine shone brightly, though there was a crisp coldness in the air due to a rather wicked breeze. Pulling her shawl tightly about her shoulders Elizabeth left the parsonage and headed out on her usual walk. She hoped she would not meet Mr Darcy again today; she had told him expressly which were her preferred routes when out walking, yet still she came upon him regularly. She would not have minded half so much if the gentleman spoke, but most of the time he seemed more than content with silence. He left her feeling very puzzled indeed.

As she rounded the corner into the shelter of the tree lined avenue, she pulled Jane's latest letter from her pocket. She began to read; it was clear Jane had not written in good spirits. She raised her head upon hearing the crunch of grass underfoot ahead. Instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the letter immediately and forcing a smile she called out, "I did not know before that you ever walked this way."

"I have been out walking enjoying my own excellent company, Richard smiled, "but I intended to close my walk with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?"

"No, I should have turned in a moment." And accordingly Elizabeth did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together. "Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" she asked.

"Yes, if Darcy does not put it off for reasons out with my control. But I am at his disposal as always. He arranges his business just as he pleases. He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But so we all do, when we are able. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly and far too freely I apologise". He smiled in an attempt to reassure Elizabeth that his words were made merely in jest. "A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence."

"In my opinion," said Elizabeth, "the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

"These are home questions and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. I will not bore you Miss Bennet with the true hardships which I endure, simply trust me that they are great indeed and the effect felt most deeply." He fell silent and Elizabeth thought to the previous evenings conversation before dinner; no she would not press the Colonel further, even though her curiosity was piqued.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Elizabeth began to wonder if in actual fact awkward moments of silence was perhaps a family trait. Speaking of family, thought Elizabeth, she wondered what kept Darcy engaged at present, for he had not appeared thus far. The last three days she had met him almost at the exact same time and although she found his presence irksome, she was oddly disappointed by his sudden lack of consistency.

"I imagine," said Elizabeth in an attempt at breaking the silence, "your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having someone at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind."

"A most convenient arrangement for him indeed," replied Richard.

"But," continued Elizabeth, "perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her."

"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."

"Are you indeed," said Elizabeth with some surprise. "Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way." As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth. She directly replied: "You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them."

"I know them a little, replied Richard relieved to move the topic away from Georgiana. "Their brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man, he is a great friend of Darcy's."

"Oh! yes," said Elizabeth drily; "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Yes, I really believe Darcy DOES take care of him. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him.

"What is it you mean?" Elizabeth asked trying to keep her tone neutral.

"It is a circumstance which Darcy could not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."

"Did Mr Darcy give you reasons for this interference?"

"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady. He only told me what I have now told you."

Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.

"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?"

"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious," enquired Richard with curiosity.

"I do not see what right Mr Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgement alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy. But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case."

"That is not an unnatural surmise," Fitzwilliam laughed, "but it is a lessening of the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly."

This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent matters until they reached the Parsonage.

Upon reaching the Parsonage, Richard stayed only for a short duration. He enquired after Mrs Collinses health and was all that was civil and pleasant. She noted that both he and Elizabeth had returned from their walk in low spirits and when the gentleman took his leave, her friend then took to her room.

As Richard emerged from the warmth of the Parsonage, back into the crisp April air, he pulled his collar up against the chill of the breeze. He knew he was best to cut across the orchard and follow the drive to the house, for this would be not only the quickest but also the most sheltered of routes. Yet he found himself walking down the lane to the back of the Parsonage and heading through the woodland towards the eastern side of the lake. He told himself the extended walk would do his stiff knee good by the much needed exercise; the fact that he would have full view of the pavilion was entirely coincidental.

Anne stood at the edge of the woodland path and watched as Darcy paced back and forth across the faded timber boards of the lakeside pavilion. His face was set in a determined frown; Anne was certain this was not going to be the most pleasant of exchanges. She thought back to their last private discussion, the Christmas before she left for Scotland. It had been an unpleasant exchange, but Anne had simply said what both of them knew to be the truth. Darcy's deep rooted moral compass, his incessant need to do what he thought right; Anne could not let him throw away his chance of future happiness. She was quite certain his future happiness would not include her as his wife.

She swallowed hard, for she felt nervous. Anne distinctly disliked any form of confrontation. Her mother loved confrontation, thrived on it even, but Anne hated situations like these. She began to walk towards Darcy and on his notice of her arrival he stopped, stood stock still, until she approached and stopped directly before him.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. You cannot be so indifferent as to not understand the nature of our much needed exchange." He stood tall, overly stiff. Anne disliked Darcy when he behaved like this; shutting away any hint of his true nature, leaving only the proud, unapproachable Mr Darcy – the Master of Pemberley in his stead.

"Anne," he said taking her hand in his, "the time has come, you and I cannot ignore our duties any longer. Regardless of what was spoken of before, you must as I understand it..." He hesitated, unsure how to continue, "three years and no other offer, my dear Anne duty aside, you must wish for a home and household of your own. I can give you both these things. I have long believed the convenience of our happy acquaintance and my deepest regard for you cousin, well this can only act as a positive foundation when entering the contract of marriage. I am sure many others are not so fortunate."

He stood awaiting her reply, his palms sweating profusely inside his soft leather gloves. Surely she would not reject his offer a second time. He thought back to his visit to Rosings Park the Christmas of 1809. It had been a dismal celebration. He had just lost his own excellent father and felt the effects of such a loss keenly; to add insult to injury Richard had been held overseas and his promise of seeing Darcy for the holidays could not be upheld. Darcy regarded Richard as the brother which he was denied; although his temperament at times was far too full of merriment, he had a sharp mind and sound rational. After the sudden loss of his dear father Darcy could not express how much he needed to see Richard and seek his counsel. As Darcy worried over his newfound responsibility as Master of Pemberley and guardian to his young sister, Georgiana; he should have been surrounded by Richard and his family at their ancestral home in Yorkshire. Instead he had spent a dismal, lonely month with a silent Georgiana, an over zealous aunt and a cousin who would not leave her room. All in all it had been a horrendous festive season.

Christmas 1809

Having been at Rosings Park for over a week, Darcy had still not seen his young cousin. Each morning he enquired as to her condition, but was met with the same reply, she remained confined to her bedchamber and did not wish to see anyone. This puzzled Darcy exceedingly for he regarded his young cousin as a robust, lively girl and could not imagine her as a woman inclined to take extended periods of bed rest unless it were truly required. Their first meeting distressed Darcy greatly when he was finally allowed to visit Anne in her rooms to take tea during his second week in Kent. He had tried to visit his cousin from the moment of his arrival, but Lady Catherine had refused him, insisting his little cousin needed her rest. Upon seeing Anne, the term 'little cousin' was truly just that. With grey hollow eyes and a complexion of pure white, she had sat fragile and frail while she sipped tea, refusing any other form of refreshment. Where once she had been softly plump and buxom, she now looked entirely insipid, with her cheek bones prominent and the skin on the back of her small hands stretched over bony knuckles. To Darcy's already aching heart this only added to his current state of anxiety.

The following week Lady Catherine, greatly encouraged by Darcy's obvious concern for his poorly cousin, decided to allow him a short visit to Anne each morning, just before luncheon.

Although her weak body gave Darcy great concern, it was Anne's utter lack of spirit which gave him most discomfort. Her spirit seemed broken; her whole demure came across as someone in deep pain and Darcy was almost certain it was much more than just the physical which pained his poor cousin. Although clearly unwell and low in spirits, visiting Anne with her kind smiles and gentle manner gave Darcy great comfort. Growing up he and Anne, along with Richard, had spent a great deal of time together. This familiar sense of intimacy with his cousin offered Darcy the first real solace since the recent loss of his father. For that brief hour Darcy could relax, pushing all thoughts of Pemberley and duty from his mind. If only he could sit and converse with Anne always.

After a week of happy visits with sweet dear Anne, Darcy suddenly knew what best to be done.

"Anne," he spoke gently taking her tea cup from her and placing her frail hand in his. "Come with me to Pemberley, let me care for you. I cannot with a sound conscious leave you here. As intended we shall marry and I shall care for you - you will want for nothing I assure you."

He hesitated awaiting her reply, but she simply looked at him blankly, devoid of all expression.

"Anne, come now say something, you shall be happy at Pemberley. You shall get well; the house is large and in need of a mistress. I cannot be expected to run a household of such size and care for Georgiana on my own, she is still but a child! It will be the most convenient outcome for all, I simply cannot leave you alone at Rosings. I do not wish to return to Pemberley without you."

"Are you out of your mind," Anne spoke quietly. "Fitz you cannot be sensible surely?"

"Anne, I am indeed entirely serious. I do not intend to return to Pemberley without you."

"What you mean," replied Anne, "is that you do not intend to return to Pemberley on your OWN."

Darcy's eyes widened as she continued; "you simply do not want to return alone to the role of master of the house. Darcy, I would offer very little comfort in the daunting task of running Pemberley I assure you. You shall be fine - it will just take time for you to adjust. Your father was an excellent man and given time you will also excel in the role."

"But Anne, can you not see it would be a most convenient arrangement for all? It is what our mothers have intended from birth, it is what is expected." He stood placing his hands behind his back before continuing; "At this moment the convenience of such an arrangement cannot be lost on you - no one has made you another offer."

"No indeed," replied Anne coolly, "on that point you are most correct. No one feels that fact more than I."

"Then let me ease the burden," replied Darcy solemnly, "for the duty is mine alone to uphold."

Anne sat for a moment, as anger built within her. How dare he, she thought and with all the spirit left within her, she retorted; "As you are quick to call being married to me a duty, then sir, you cannot hand on heart want it. Darcy you insult as both if you think that you and I would ever result in a happy marriage. You are merely feeling sorry for yourself; hoping I would help ease your worried mind and bolster your ego. I could never give you what it is you believe you need, and I am positive that you would forever live to regret such a decision, as would I.

"But Anne, I merely meant..."

"Please leave," Anne cried her pale face flushing. "Please leave before you insult our friendship further. Never did I think you would be so foolish as to cave into family expectations where the prospect of our future happiness was concerned... Darcy you do not love me," Anne spoke softly as tears filled her eyes, "and I do not love you. I thought it was impossible for my heart to break further, but your harsh reminder that all I can ever hope to be is duty bond to you; to be simply a marriage of convenience! It shall not be. Darcy let me assure you now and forever I shall never marry, YOU or otherwise." She starred up at him, his face a mix of confusion and anger. She let out a sigh as the sudden burst of anger began to fade.

"Darcy, I wish you all the happiness in the world, but you will not find it being duty bound to me." She turned her face from him signalling the end of their discussion.

Darcy stood a moment confused by her outburst. It was not her rejection of marriage that upset him, but her refusal to come to his aid when he needed her support and companionship most. Surely she could see he was lost without his father's excellent guidance; how was he meant to uphold the Darcy name on his own? He turned and left the room without another word.

Darcy left Rosings Park for Pemberley with Georgiana the very next day. It did not take him long to realise the rashness and foolishness of his behaviour. Anne was right, although he cared for his cousin, he did not love her. Neither would make the other happy. Darcy had simply wanted someone to be with him to help him in his new role as master. The thought of taking over from his father was terrifying; he was not sure he was ready, would ever be ready - would he rise to the challenge? The fear of disappointing those around him was almost overwhelming.

On his return to Pemberley he spent several days drafting a letter of apology to Anne. He tried his best to explain his actions and talk through his state of mind following the sudden loss of his father. He did not wish to be alone, that was true, having Anne with him had simply seemed a logical solution to his short term distress. He could see how foolish a solution this would be long term for all involved; Anne knew him better than he knew himself and he could only ask her to forgive him and remain his dear friend.

The letter written, he sent for it to be taken to the post. As the following days passed he gave the altercation little thought, for he was certain once Anne read his letter all would be well. Anne was far too accommodating and sensible a girl to be offended by something as trivial as a mere marriage proposal. A reply from Anne came but a fortnight later, it was short and to the point. She thanked him for his correspondence, repeated her deepest of sympathy for the loss of his father and promised Darcy that all would be well for she had most faith in him. She closed the letter saying she would be visiting a relation in Scotland and hoped that the change of air and scenery would do her health much good. How odd, Darcy thought as he considered this. His aunt rarely left Rosings Park and he was almost certain that Lady Catherine showed little interest in the late Sir Lewis's family. How odd the situation was he would later find out when it came to light that Anne had left for Scotland on her own, leaving an exceedingly vexed Lady Catherine behind.

The Present

He stood awaiting her reply, his palms still sweating profusely in his gloves. The lakeside pavilion offered little shelter from the harsh April breeze. Surely she would not reject him again. It was in both their best interests to marry, not to mentioned it was his aunt's deepest desire. Desire, he thought, desire was something he could not trust, desire consisted of dark eyes and the face of a pretty woman. A woman who would simply not do. Darcy had never known the over whelming sensation of infatuation before; for surely that was what Miss Elizabeth Bennet was, a passing infatuation. He did not love Anne, of that he was certain, but she would make him the most respectable and suitable wife. Once married he would be able to put thoughts of Elizabeth out of his head, he was certain of it.

Anne looked up at Darcy as he stood before her.

"Darcy," she began softly, "whatever has happened for you to be so foolish as to ask me to marry you again?" She smiled up at his shocked expression. "Come now Fitz," she continued, "I am no fool so please do not treat me as such." She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Darcy you do not wish to marry me, I am not your safe port in a storm. You cannot ask me to marry you each time you are thrown by life's unexpected twists and turns." She looked up at him and smiled. "Men are such awful creatures when it comes to dealing with emotions, let me assure you, you have no duty to fulfil with me."

"But Anne," Darcy replied, "it is what is to be expected. You and I; Pemberley and Rosings Park, not to mention your mother's ever thinning patience. What will people say?"

She squeezed his arm and looked at him before asking; "do you love her?"

The shocked expression on Darcy's face quickly gave way as he realised he should have known Anne would be the one person to notice his preference towards Elizabeth. Looking down at her he simply nodded. "In vain I have struggled, Anne I cannot think of anything but Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Then what on earth are you doing making silly conversation with me? Fitz you are allowed to be happy with whomever you wish. Ignore my mother, ignore everyone, people will always talk but what should it matter? Do not let your chance at happiness pass you by because you were not brave enough to grasp it. For what it's worth I like her very much."

Darcy stood unsure what more to say, he shivered slightly as the cold wind sent a chill down his spine. "Shall we return to the house?"

"I think that a most excellent idea," Anne replied, "especially as I called at the parsonage this morning and invited the Collinses, Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet to dine at Rosings this evening."

"That," laughed Darcy leaning forward and giving Anne a gentle kiss on the forehead, "is very fortunate indeed. Thank you." Darcy held out his arm and Anne, relieved to find some shelter from the wind, tucked herself close to his side as they began the short walk towards the house.

Across the lake Richard watched as Darcy leaned forward and placed a kiss upon Anne's head. A sharp pain exploded in his chest as he watched Anne press herself against Darcy and head off in the direction of the house.