A week had gone by since the gathering at Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth and Mary returned to Longbourn tired from fighting the blustery autumnal weather and hurrying to ready themselves for supper, when they learned the dreadful news that their mother had sent Jane to Netherfield on horseback, in the rain. Jane had received a note from the Bingley sisters asking for her company for supper, and Mrs. Bennet decided sending her on horseback would be just the thing, since rain seemed likely which might force Jane to stay overnight. The letter indicated the gentlemen were not even present, as they were dining with the officers.

It took just about all the discipline she had to resist the temptation to bellow. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, Jane was doing just fine with Mr. Bingley, and did not require any 'assistance'. A mother ensuring her offspring had opportunity to spend time with a gentleman was rational, and everyone did it. Sending a daughter to a visit on a horse in the rain when the man was not even home just showed desperation, a mercenary attitude, or a lack of common sense. Elizabeth thought that such an ill thought out scheme was certainly not likely to recommend a lady to a suitor who had his pick of attractive, well‑connected and well-dowered ladies.

After fretting late into the night, which for a few minutes at a time had at least the benefit of taking away her worries about Mr. Darcy learning her secrets, she arose irritable and feeling put out.

A note appeared at breakfast with the not very astonishing news that a lady soaked to the skin from riding in the rain had become ill. Who could have predicted it? Elizabeth thought the scheme did nothing but make her family look foolish. She railed at her mother for some time, but that had no effect whatsoever. She eventually, in a rare fit of temper, even complained to her father.

"Papa, you cannot possibly have approved of this scheme?"

Her father's response, made to both ladies, made Elizabeth nearly as angry as her mother's had.

"Well, my dear, if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness–if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."

Elizabeth would probably have considered Mrs. Bennet's response amusing in her earlier life, but at the time it just made her angry.

"Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage."

Elizabeth wanted to do something very improper in her frustration, but ladies did not scream or stamp their feet… at least decorous ladies did not. Were there no limits to how improper the Bennet family was to act?

Elizabeth comprehended perfectly well her mother's plan. If she could get the carriage, she would go to Netherfield, primarily to ensure that Jane stayed right there for a week or more. She would 'evaluate' Jane's illness, and no matter what she said in Longbourn, at Netherfield she would ensure that Jane appeared close to death's door. It was obvious to Elizabeth, as was the fact that Jane staying alone at Netherfield would be highly improper. The whole debacle was also such an obvious stratagem that Mr. Bingley would have to be very dull indeed to not recognize it, and even if Mr. Bingley remained oblivious, Mr. Darcy would not. Despite her ambivalence about the man, she did know he was smarter than that.

"Papa, Jane really should not be staying in a bachelor household. As Mama has clearly stated, she has but a trifling cold. Let us take the carriage and return her home where she belongs, before we gather even more ridicule."

Elizabeth braced for her mother's indignation and received it in the full measure.

"You will do no such thing, Miss Lizzy Bennet. Jane is right where she needs to be. How is she to fix the man if she is not in his company? It is none of your business anyway."

Quite frustrated, Elizabeth replied, with what her father was happy to see as some of her fire from before the summer.

"She is not in his company, Mama. She is upstairs in a bedroom; no doubt being interrogated by his haughty sisters as we speak. She could not be in his company in any house that practiced basic decorum until she is recovered enough to come downstairs. When she is well enough to do that, she will be well enough to ride home in a carriage. There is no way to satisfy your desire for Jane to be in his company and propriety at the same time."

"Oh, propriety, pish! You are becoming as tiresome as Mary with all your talk of propriety, Lizzy. I will not have it. Leave off now."

That conversation had left her in a bit of a quandary. Elizabeth had firmly decided to try her best to be entirely proper, yet she was thrust again and again into these situations. She had to grudgingly admit that her insistence that Jane being at Netherfield was indecorous was not necessarily correct. The rules of decorum were unwritten, vague and frequently contradictory. Since Mr. Bingley did in fact have his sister acting as hostess, it might be considered acceptable, but Elizabeth thought it was both ill‑mannered, and counterproductive. However, having raised her objection and been thwarted, basic parental respect indicated she would have to take her mother's clearly stated instructions. Perhaps all would be well, but she felt it was more likely to be a disaster for Jane to stay there all alone for days.

Her father settled the matter by replying, "It matters not anyway, Lizzy. It may have escaped your notice, but Jane rode one of the carriage horses to Netherfield yesterday, and it is still there. Now, perhaps you, clever girl that you are, might assert that we could use the spare horse, or even go to Netherfield and return it before dinnertime, but alas, I sent the second horse off with young Jacob Masterson to get some supplies just this morning. You will not have our carriage today."

"Let us ask Mr. Bingley to return her then. Truly, he must be wishing to be rid of her."

"Bite your tongue, young lady. I will have no such request, and no more of your impertinence. Jane is just where she needs to be, and I daresay, she is right where Mr. Bingley desires her to be."

Elizabeth was at this point desperate, even if it did turn out that her mother was right, but also feeling guilty that she had not had a single thought for poor Jane's feelings during the entire debate. Everything was about her secret. Jane was such an accommodating person that Elizabeth sometimes thought she had no opinions of her own, but also recognized that thought as uncharitable. Even if she no longer felt that Jane was her closest confidant, she was still her second‑closest, and at the very least, a woman worthy of respect. Before Ramsgate, Elizabeth would have done anything to help Jane, and now it was all about her, her, her, her, her. Her secret! Her manners! Her beliefs! When had she become so selfish?

With these feelings abounding, Elizabeth finally decided that she must leave off being selfish. She had to go to Netherfield, ask Jane's opinion on the matter, and then help her sister in whatever way she could. If Jane was not averse to underhanded tricks to be in Mr. Bingley's company, who was Elizabeth to impose her opinion. If Jane wanted to come home, she should not be thwarted by her mother's schemes. There was no carriage, or even a horse available, but Elizabeth felt a responsibility to try to see to Jane's comfort, even if nobody else was. Her only alternative was walking. She declared her resolution.

"How can you be so silly as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there."

"I shall be very fit to see Jane–which is all I want."

"Absolutely not. What are you thinking?"

"Papa?"

As head of the household, Mr. Bennet obviously had the last word, although he seldom took advantage of the privilege. He was finding the debate between mother and daughter diverting and was also satisfied that some bit of Elizabeth's lost fire seemed to be returning. He judged that thwarting her now would either remove what ground she had gained that morning, or it would rile her up enough to recover even more. Both seemed tempting, at least from an entertainment standpoint. In the end, he decided a father should see that all his offspring were at least healthy.

"All right, Lizzy. I think it might be a good idea to go ask Jane her opinion on the matter, since you and your mother seem to be at an impasse, and I have no strong opinion."

"Thank you, Papa. That is all I ask."

"Just so, Lizzy… but remember this. The matter is somewhat ambiguous. Things are neither as improper as you think, nor as innocuous and desirable as your mother thinks. Let us give Jane the chance to decide. She is a year past her majority and no longer a child. You have my permission to ask her about her desires and help her achieve them… but you are not there to fulfill your desires. Have I made myself clear?"

"Very clear, Papa."

Before Ramsgate, Elizabeth would have happily walked the three miles to Netherfield without a second thought. It was just over an hour's walk, and easily accomplished. Even in the mud, it would only be an hour and a half. That day however, she was faced with the real question of how far she was willing to go to accomplish her goal. Mary had left that morning, before Jane's note arrived, to visit with Maria Lucas, so she did not even know what had transpired. Even if Mary was available and aware though, Elizabeth did not want to drag her younger sister into the mess that she was certain was occurring. She also had the nagging feeling that she was overreacting, but she could do nothing about that, short of spending the next three or four days fretting.

On asking around, Elizabeth found that Lydia and Kitty wanted to go to Meryton to look for the officers. As little as Elizabeth liked the idea of her sisters hunting officers, she had to admit that it might not be so bad. The two youngest had been acting somewhat more decorously as of late, at least in the presence of their older sisters, and Elizabeth thought it might be a good chance for them to prove themselves. It was decided between them that all three would walk to Meryton together, and the distance from Meryton to Netherfield was short enough that Elizabeth felt that she could walk it alone.

Her sense of justice demanded she be honest enough with herself to admit that she was afraid to walk alone, even though there was really no danger to be had in Hertfordshire. It was only another mile to Netherfield from Meryton, a mere twenty minutes, and it was time for her to pluck up her courage just a bit, for she truly did not want to spend the rest of her life afraid of shadows.

Before they arrived in Meryton, Elizabeth started seeing signs of the militia just about everywhere she looked. She was not quite certain how she felt about the soldiers. She had heard and read reports of the occasional bad apple among the armed forces, but for the most part she was inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt. It somehow felt safer having them around, even though, objectively, having that many unknown men should make her nervous. She could not explain it, but she was inclined to be trusting within reason.

Kitty and Lydia were just about in raptures over all the red coats they saw, and Elizabeth had to remind them at least twice that their mission for the day was to act with proper decorum and not embarrass the family. She doubted the lesson would really stick after she left, but she had to make the effort anyway.

Just before the turnoff for Netherfield, they encountered Colonel Forster talking with one of his officers, so all three ladies stopped to greet them.

Colonel Forster was a genial man of around forty who reminded Elizabeth a bit of Sir William Lucas. She had teased him a bit the night she met him at Lucas Lodge, and enjoyed his responses.

Colonel Forster bowed to the ladies, and greeted them, "Ah, Miss Bennets. Forgive me if I cannot quite get your names in the correct order just yet."

Lydia and Kitty giggled, while Elizabeth tried to get them to show more decorum, and the officer just seemed amused. It was left to Elizabeth to answer.

"No forgiveness is required, Colonel. I cannot tell those two apart myself."

The colonel chuckled, and asked, "Miss Elizabeth, I am happy to have met you this morning. I wonder if I might impose on your kindness."

Elizabeth smiled at the man, and replied, "How may I be of service, Colonel?"

The Colonel returned the smile, nodded a few times and began, "I am somewhat recently married, and my wife will be joining me in a few days' time. I am wondering if you and your elder sister might be willing to introduce her to some of your acquaintances, perhaps with Miss Lucas' assistance?"

"We would be delighted, Colonel. If you would send a note with the particulars, Jane and I will see to everything."

"My thanks, Miss Elizabeth. My wife will be very happy. She is not quite accustomed to this life she has chosen, and I believe your kindness will be of immeasurable value."

"Think nothing of it, Colonel. We are quite happy to be of assistance."

Lydia, seemingly incapable of keeping a thought to herself laughed and replied, "Oh, Colonel. This sounds so romantic. I believe I shall marry an officer one day."

The Colonel looked a bit startled, and replied gravely, "I hope you are not serious, young lady."

Lydia just laughed, and said, "La, you are so serious, Colonel. They are so handsome in their red coats, how could I not?"

Elizabeth exclaimed, "Lydia!", but it had little effect on her sister.

Colonel Forster looked even more serious, and asked, "Miss Lydia, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Sir!"

Colonel Forster asked Lydia to turn her hand palm up, counted out 10 shillings, and dropped it in her hands.

"What do you think that is, Miss Lydia?"

She looked at it and said, "Well, that is enough to get new ribbons for my green bonnet."

Kitty interrupted with, "That is my bonnet, not yours."

"Well, it looks much better on me."

Before the two could degenerate into a fight, the Colonel held up his hands and asked, "Supposed you had to eat with that. How far would it go?"

All three sisters shook their heads in perplexity. Elizabeth had a good idea of how far it would go, but she wondered at the Colonel's point. The two youngest had no idea what he was talking about.

The Colonel continued, "That my dears, would be just enough to feed three people for a day… just barely, if you rarely had meat and never any puddings."

Lydia stomped her foot, and asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

The Colonel ignored her, and calmly continued, "That is the daily pay for a lieutenant - ten shillings. Two days to get £1. One month for £15. That's £180 per annum. Out of that, he must pay for his own clothing, his own food, his own horse and his own weapons. If he has a wife and children, those come out of that as well. That is less than a tenth of what your father probably clears at Longbourn. The wife of a lieutenant cannot afford servants and must cook and clean her own home, which might move frequently. She cannot afford nurses for her children, so must raise them alone, and sometimes with a dead husband. She can afford maybe one new dress per annum if she is very lucky. Ribbon and lace are completely out of the question. Are you beginning to comprehend me, ladies?"

Both ladies were staring at the Colonel with their mouths hanging open in dismay.

Elizabeth added, "That would mean you and any children would have to live on less than the Bennet sisters' combined pin money… quite a lot less. The only way to live reasonably well is to marry a Colonel or higher, and even for them, it is a hard life. Is a red coat worth that?"

Both sisters were still staring in a stupor, so Elizabeth thought she might give them a day or two to absorb the lesson.

"Colonel, I must go. Please let us know when your wife is to arrive. Kitty and Lydia, I shall see you later."

With that, Elizabeth left towards Netherfield, deep in thought. She had never had the slightest aspirations to attract officers like her sisters did, but she wondered what in the world would convince a man to risk life and limb for so little.

Fitzwilliam Darcy liked the paths along the front side of Netherfield, and into the grove beyond. In practice, that meant he found only a dozen things he would change if it were his estate, instead of the usual hundred. He was just returning from a good walk in the estate's woods.

The gentleman was walking more these days than he typically did, and he was afraid to examine the change in habits very carefully. There was a good chance it was just the Hertfordshire air. There was an equally good chance it was the season and the beauty of the woods around Netherfield. It could be something as simple as the fact that Miss Bingley disliked walking and could not be induced by any reward to go more than a hundred yards, and not even that far if there was mud involved. He had to sheepishly admit, that it was entirely possible he did it just because he know Elizabeth Bennet liked to walk extensively, or at least, she had before the accident that he was not supposed to know about.

It seemed an odd coincidence that both the woman who had captured his imagination and his own sister had behavior changing events during the summer holidays, but he did not linger on that thought. Life was full of coincidences, and this was just one more. It had not even occurred to him to ask Mr. Bennet where Miss Elizabeth had suffered her accident, but he made a mental note to ask next time he was in the gentleman's company.

The front door was almost coming into view when he looped around an oak tree to walk onto Netherfield's front drive, and nearly ran into the last person he expected to see.

"Miss Bennet!"

"Mr. Darcy"

He stared in some minor stupefaction at the apparition in front of him, and barely managed to execute a bow to go with her reflexive curtsy.

The lady seemed just about as mortified as he did, but recovered faster, asking, "I am come to enquire after my sister."

"On foot!"

"As you see!"

Darcy thought that while they were discussing feet, he may as well just stuff his in his mouth, as he was not making very good progress. He had, with Sir William's unwitting assistance, managed to extract a couple dozen words from the lady at Lucas Lodge, although to be honest, they mostly consisted of her trying to politely escape him. He wished to follow‑up that minor success.

Miss Bennet looked at him for a few more seconds, then finally said, "Would you be so kind as to take me to her?"

"Of course."

Darcy turned and started to offer his arm, but then decided he would take one more attempt to see if he could get the lady to talk to him just a little bit. The gentleman had to reflect that he truly did not understand himself. The more Miss Elizabeth ignored him, the more he wanted her attention. He liked to believe that he was not just desiring what he could not have. Whether he was or not, he thought he would never be quite satisfied until he got some type of real response from this fascinating lady. Perhaps a bit of boldness was called for.

"Miss Elizabeth, I shall be happy to take you to your sister directly, but before I do, I must offer another apology."

He did not know whether to feel satisfaction or chagrin when the lady just looked at him with her eyes crossed in confusion. He waited patiently for her to say something… anything.

Finally, after what seemed like quite a long wait, she replied, "An apology for what, Mr. Darcy?"

He sighed, and said, "I have recollected the last few moments of conversation, and I realize when I said, 'on foot', that it sounded quite condescending and arrogant. For that, I apologize."

He watched her carefully, as he always seemed to do these few times they were in company. He rarely met anyone whose motives and actions were not easily discernable. In idle moments he wondered whether that was because he was very clever or because he just did not trouble himself to entertain enough acquaintances. He feared it was the latter, which was not something he liked to readily admit. However, if he planned to try to rectify this deficiency, he should open himself to more gentlefolk. Elizabeth Bennet most definitely belonged in this category, so ergo, he should get to know Elizabeth Bennet. Simple really!

At any rate, the lady always seemed to be tense. Fitzwilliam Darcy was in fact a thoughtful man and had spent quite a bit of time in introspection, so he was aware that he could be misreading her, but there was something nervous about her countenance. Coupled with her first reaction to his name, he had to imagine something about him made her nervous. Perhaps a true gentleman would have admitted defeat and just taken himself from her presence or avoided her, but he did not like to have mysteries hanging about. If his family's or his own reputation was in doubt, he at least owed it his sister and his legacy to understand the problem and try to rectify it. If she was still angry about his abominable behavior at the assembly, he must be polite until she truly forgave him. Therefore, he must persist towards an understanding with Elizabeth Bennet.

Yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy was in fact a master of rationalization.

All these thoughts were swirling around his head, just as he noticed Miss Elizabeth was thinking overly long about his apology. She finally responded in a way that surprised him.

"Mr. Darcy… If it was your intent to be condescending or rude, I am afraid you missed the mark. I took those words to be nothing but concern for my safety. I apologize for misunderstanding you. I shall endeavor to be properly offended."

Looking at the young lady, he observed that she seemed to be vacillating between a sly smile, and an embarrassed frown. Darcy would have to guess that she had let out more than she intended, which made sense, since the previous weeks had been spent avoiding him altogether or saying the absolute minimum, although as he watched her in company, he had noticed she kept a wary eye on him quite often as well. His glimpses of her suggested that she was only displaying a tenth part of her normal wittiness, but she always held herself so guardedly around him that this was the first sign of any leakage. He occasionally overheard her conversations with ladies like Miss Lucas and they were very witty and intelligent, but Miss Bennet had not directed her cleverness towards him yet.

He wanted more, so he simply smiled broadly at her.

"Miss Elizabeth, I prostrate myself at your feet, and once again humbly beg your forgiveness."

"You are forgiven, Mr. Darcy."

Both remembered the last time those words had been spoken, and neither had any real idea what to do next. Elizabeth was still looking confused, and Darcy was looking for an opportunity to chip away at her reserve a bit.

Elizabeth thought with some chagrin that this was a man she really could like if she allowed herself to. What would that mean? Could she allow just a small glimmer of friendship to develop, or was that the way to ruin? Of only one thing was she certain. Meeting Miss Darcy again was something she absolutely could not countenance! Such an event would be bad for everyone. Mr. Darcy's sister was in the enviable position of being unsure of exactly what transpired in Ramsgate, and probably feeling safe and secure in her family. As far as she was concerned, G.W. was still alive and well; and Elizabeth wanted it to stay that way. Meeting her rescuer from Ramsgate would reopen the wounds, to nobody's benefit.

Elizabeth reckoned that Mr. Darcy was only in the neighborhood for a few more weeks at the most, and then he would leave. What was the exact amount of acquaintance she could permit the gentleman that would allow him to go back to wherever he came from and forget her? Too little cordiality and he might become fascinated and dig into the whys and wherefores of her dislike. Too much and he might wish her to become friends with his sister, even if he wanted nothing more from her. She had no idea how to walk the fine line, or even if she was being completely sensible.

Darcy was much less ambiguous in his thoughts. He was unequivocally convinced her friendship was worth the winning but was under no illusions that it would be easy. She was the first woman he could ever remember that had not the slightest interest in his person, his wealth, his estate or his position. He had been in company perhaps half a dozen times with Miss Elizabeth, and he knew for certain she had heard quite a bit about his situation from her mother, Miss Bingley and others. Every time she heard boasting of his estate or position, she either did not react in the least or grimaced in distaste. If he wanted her good opinion, he would have to earn it the hard way. The tools that brought most people to his attention were hindrances in her case.

"Miss Elizabeth, you will be reassured to know that the apothecary came by this morning and believes your sister suffers from naught but a bad cold. Unpleasant as it can be, he does not believe the danger to be acute. I can take you there directly."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

With that, he thought he had made enough progress for the day. The elder Miss Bennet was likely to be stuck at Netherfield for several days, and if he played his cards right, perhaps he could get Miss Elizabeth to stay to tend her. He once again offered his arm, and she took it with only slight reluctance.

The pair walked towards the house, with Elizabeth deep in thought. She eventually made a resolution about how she might be able to walk the narrow path with Mr. Darcy. If she asked for a favor, it would show that she did not absolutely hate him, without implying anything farther. It would also be a chance to mitigate some of her mother's improper behavior. Summoning her courage, she began.

"Mr. Darcy, I wonder if I could impose on you for a favor."

Darcy stopped abruptly in surprise, causing her to stop with him.

Continuing, Elizabeth said, "I know I have not been very nice to you, but I shall ask anyway."

Speaking carefully, he replied, "I must disagree, Miss Elizabeth. You have been perfectly amiable to me, and better than I deserve, but that is not the matter at hand, is it? How may I be of service?"

"It is about my sister, Sir. If I find as I expect that she is not deathly ill, could you quietly arrange for Mr. Bingley's carriage to take us back to Longbourn? I fear my father's carriage is unavailable today, and I would rather not ask Mr. Bingley publicly, as it might embarrass him."

This shocked the gentleman. The very idea of two young ladies voluntarily abandoning the field when there were not one but two single young gentlemen to be hunted was not in the least what he had come to expect from marriageable ladies. Perhaps he was spending his time with the wrong marriageable ladies?

Elizabeth, feeling she had failed to make her case, and wanting to be abundantly clear, continued.

"Mr. Darcy. You are a man of the world. You know it is improper for her to stay in a bachelor house without a compelling reason. If she can sit up in a bed, she can most likely sit in a coach for the half‑hour it takes to go three miles."

Darcy was gratified to have pulled so many words from the lady, even as the content surprised him. Her suggestion was quite sensible, and he knew he should just accede immediately, but his curiosity compelled him.

"Do you always try to do what is proper, Miss Elizabeth?"

Sighing, she replied, "I try, Sir. I do not always succeed, but I try."

He noticed she neglected to mention that other members of her family did not always try so diligently, but he would not expect her to and would be disappointed if she did. Miss Elizabeth would answer for her own actions, but would not cast aspersions of others, or so he believed.

Deciding to take one more risk, he replied, "Miss Elizabeth, I applaud you for that. I hate to sound like a malcontent, but I can assure you, that attitude is not universal."

The young lady looked at him in some sympathy, and for just the briefest of moments, he felt like she let her guard down. It was only a moment, but then she seemed right back to being guarded with him. He was not overly concerned. He could deal with perplexity, guardedness and any other forms of caution the young lady exhibited. He had time and he had patience.

What Darcy could not do was to use trickery or deceit of any kind to worm his way into her regard. Disguise was his abhorrence, partially because he was abysmally unskilled in the craft. He also strongly believed that there was a meanness in all the arts which gentlemen sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bore affinity to cunning was despicable. If he resorted to deceit, he would be little different from his former childhood friend, George Wickham. Darcy liked to believe that aside from his reticence and reserve, which were at least honest, he had never employed any trick to try to gain friendship from anyone.

As these thoughts were going around in his head, Miss Elizabeth replied, "I thank you, Mr. Darcy. Will you help me?"

He answered instantly, "Of course, Miss Elizabeth. I assure you that I am at your disposal. I have my own carriage here, but I believe the appearance of things would be better if the master of the house did the honors. If you desire it after you see your sister, I will quietly relay your request to Bingley. He will be reluctant to part with his guest, but I assure you that he would do nothing to cause you or Miss Bennet the slightest worry."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy thought this was probably the first unguarded thing she had ever said to him and was grateful for it. He thought to push his advantage a bit, since he had progressed much farther than he expected.

"Miss Elizabeth, there is another perfectly good way for propriety to be maintained. If you remained at Netherfield as a guest and chaperone for your sister, everyone's purpose would be well satisfied. Dare I also suggest, you might also receive less censure at home."

The last had been a bit much, and he saw that she had her guard back up in full force, so he thought he should try to undo the damage.

"I meant no offense, Miss Elizabeth."

She chuckled, but it was a grim sort of huff, more a lady-like substitute for a snort of displeasure.

"You need not apologize for speaking the truth, Mr. Darcy."

"True or not, some things should not be said, and I apologize. Will you consider it?"

Elizabeth was now in a quandary. She truly just wanted to take Jane home. She would a thousand times be willing to listen to her mother's chastisement than to spend more time worrying about how to guard herself from Mr. Darcy. The man had a way of worming his way into her confidence that disconcerted her. She had no sooner determined she would give him not an inch more than propriety demanded, as she had successfully done that first day in her father's study, than the man said something surprising and she found herself reacting all too much like the old Lizzy Bennet, and giving him a yard. She could not afford to let her guard down with this man, but she had such a difficult time maintaining it when he was so amiable.

Now, he had made a perfectly reasonable suggestion. As worrisome as the idea of being in his presence sounded, she knew it would be nothing more than a few minutes or hours here and there, nearly all of it spent in the company of Mr. Bingley and his sisters. It might be a perfect way to give the man enough 'friendship' to satisfy him and get him to leave her alone. The alternative was to invent a pretext to leave the county entirely for a few months, but it was difficult to think of a viable excuse to do so without raising even more attention. Even that would not be successful if Jane managed to tighten her connection with Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy was one of his closest friends, so in the longer term, she just needed a way to keep him at arm's length.

Elizabeth couldn't quite decide whether staying for a few days was good strategy or mere rationalization, but eventually decided she should accede to her own chastisement. She needed to talk to Jane and take her sister's desires into account. There was more to the world than Lizzy Bennet's wants and desires.

"I will, Mr. Darcy. May we go see my sister now."

"Of course."

With that, they finally did approach the house. Mr. Darcy asked a passing maid by name to kindly take Miss Elizabeth to her sister.

A/N: You'll notice I took a few lines from the 1995 BBC series. I generally plagiarize the book for my Jane-speak, but the scene in the woods was too perfect to pass up.