Pemberley was a long beautiful building, with rows of windows and an imposing set of marble columns guarding the entrance. However, despite the structure's beauty, as Darcy led her up the long staircase to the entryway, Elizabeth looked longingly out at the park.

A nearby trail ran direct under a pretty set of woods, and she could see a stream burble along next to another path. In the distance was a pretty hill with a small temple atop it. Elizabeth could see hints of gazebos and statues and benches half hidden by the groves of trees.

She'd spent most of the past two days inside the carriage and desperately wished to stretch her legs and ramble freely for a good hour. The house was beautiful, but the lands around it were the prettiest she'd ever seen. None of the great houses in the vicinity of Meryton showed anything like the perfect combination of nature and taste displayed here.

The summer flowers were in full bloom, and their perfume wafted about; the trees were heavy with green, and bees buzzed amongst the vines and plants emplaced around the walls of the stairs. A motion caught Elizabeth's eyes. It was a deer. A gentleman in the neighborhood of Meryton kept a park where the deer were fed and would quite willingly accept the approach of people. Darcy had once mentioned something similar.

Darcy squeezed her arm to get her attention. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, you wish a long walk after our sojourn in the carriage."

"Will you think me terrible if I acknowledge it? For a preference for gardens and trees after a long carriage ride, instead of pretty rooms and a bath, is not refined. But I confess that preference, and confess it openly. Despise me if you dare."

"Will it shock you terribly if I confess the same preference? Though gentlemen are not supposed to long for pretty rooms, so I have the better of you." Darcy smiled. "I shall get up a party for such a walk."

The house had been built in the style of the previous century and with a massive entry hall. Ten foot tall paintings whose styles crossed a hundred years decorated the walls. The floor was a pattern of black and white marble squares, which gave off a hard sound when stepped upon. A huge gold chandelier hung from the roof. The banisters on the double staircase gleamed.

It made Elizabeth feel overwhelmed. Was she really to become mistress of all this? Was that merely a dream or delusion? She looked at Darcy. His eyes were warm, and he smiled at her. "I must admit it is ostentatious."

The approval in his eyes and the way he was glad to see her in his family house made Elizabeth feel safe and washed away her sense of smallness. "I love this room. I shall hear no attack on it. The decorations and furnishings are beautiful and exactly as they should be."

Darcy grinned at her. "Ah, but we do not disagree. It is exactly as it should be — the ballroom is behind those doors," Darcy pointed to the top of the staircase, and my great-grandfather wished to ensure he would not be shamed when a Duke should attend a dance. To create an entry hall worthy of a duke requires ostentation."

Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy said to everyone, "I know we all wish to rest from the journey — I'd thought a picnic on the grounds would be an excellent plan for lunch in two hours. Afterwards, we could tour the park or the house — those who are not Bingley will appreciate the chance to see everything. If any of you wish to join me, in ten minutes I plan to take a walk around the park to stretch my legs after all this time in the carriage."

Elizabeth immediately expressed her intention to be part of that group. Georgiana curtsied, but said it she wished to visit her room again. Jane and Bingley also chose to retire to their rooms for the next hour. Unfortunately for Elizabeth and Darcy, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner announced they would join them.

Darcy asked, "Are you certain you are not tired from your journey? And the rooms which have been provided are well appointed — please do not think I would take it as rude if you did not join me. I assure you, Miss Bennet shall the company enough."

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. "We shall not be terribly in your way, but you know I saw your park as a girl. I have longed to wander those woods again since our plans were made."

Butterflies played in Elizabeth's stomach. He'd wanted to get her alone. Might Darcy have asked her at last if not for her aunt and uncle? And even if he had no such plan, could she have convinced him to adopt it? She had wanted to kiss him for such a long time.

Elizabeth followed a maid to the room which had been assigned to her and rapidly readied herself to walk about on such a fine sunny day. If it did not happen naturally within the next few days, she'd contrive some plot to be alone with Darcy.

Less than ten minutes later, Elizabeth stood in the garden which had been appointed for their meeting. She wore tightly laced boots and a wide brimmed straw bonnet to keep the sun off. The garden was gorgeous, and Elizabeth looked every way attempting to identify exotic plants, many of which she had never seen, even during her visit to the Royal Gardens.

She'd been alone for less than two minutes when Darcy joined her. He stood several feet off and smiled at her. His light coat was thin enough to show the muscles in his shoulders, and the multicolored cravat set off the image perfectly.

The experience of being here at Pemberley with its master seemed pregnant. They looked at each other frankly, stepping closer but not speaking. Elizabeth felt the special meaning of the moment. "So beautiful," Darcy breathed out stepping closer to her, "prettier by far than the flowers."

Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on his, and a magnetic attraction between them drew her closer. Her aunt and uncle entered the square, and Darcy and Elizabeth blushed and looked away from each other.

Darcy bowed to his other guests and with admirable self-possession gave a friendly greeting, "Shall we set off?"

He immediately took Elizabeth's arm, but before they set off, Elizabeth pointed to a plant she had looked at and asked Darcy its name.

Darcy hmm'd and said, "I have no idea, it is exquisite." Taking his arm back from Elizabeth, Darcy pulled out a knife and carefully cut off a yellow and white blossom. "My mother loved to collect plants from exotic locations and see whether they could be made to thrive in our England climate. My gardeners know all there is to be said on each, but I never did memorize it all."

Holding the flower that he had cut by its stem, Darcy smiled at it and twirled it back and forth. Then he held Elizabeth's head and pushed the flower into her hair. Darcy brushed his fingers softly over her forehead before he stepped away. "Perfect."

Her stomach flipped at the proximity, and she near forgot the presence of her aunt and uncle. Mr. Gardiner stepped up and said approvingly, "That is a good look for you Lizzy." Then with a mischievous smile Mr. Gardiner took Elizabeth's arm and, gesturing at Mr. Darcy, he said, "Pray, which of these pathways shall we start upon first?"

The frustrated expression on Darcy's face made Elizabeth smile mischievously at him as he resigned himself and gallantly offered his arm to Mrs. Gardiner.

Darcy's mind was too full with Elizabeth's proximity to sleep well. While dressing him, his valet told Darcy that Mr. and Mrs. Bingley had woken more than an hour ago and were seated at breakfast. When Darcy arrived, not only were the Bingleys down, but also his sister and the Gardiners. It was unusual as most mornings Darcy awoke the first out of his party.

Bingley looked up from his meal when Darcy entered the breakfast room and said heartily, "I see you have woken at last — why, I've been awake these six hours at least."

Jane poked her husband's side. "We've not been awake nearly that long."

Bingley grinned. "It is most unlike you."

Bleary-eyed, Darcy grimaced at his friend. Georgiana poured him a cup of tea as he collected several rolls and pastries onto his plate. "Is Miss Bennet still abed?"

"Lizzy was asleep when I asked her maid a half hour ago," Jane replied.

Georgiana exclaimed to Jane, "When she comes down I wish to give a real, proper tour of the house. We had so much fun yesterday there was no time to look it over. I talked to Mrs. Reynolds — she knows even more of the history than I do — and she will be at our disposal for several hours."

"That sounds like a lovely plan." Jane smiled at Bingley. "I know you have seen the house in detail before. Will you and Darcy go out shooting this morning?"

"Certainly not," Darcy spoke before Bingley could, "what tour of the house can be complete without the master attending?" By no means would he lose an opportunity for Elizabeth's company.

Elizabeth knocked on the door and entered wearing a pretty light blue dress that left her arms bare. Darcy immediately stood and gave her a small bow.

She curtsied, turned mainly towards Darcy. "It was terribly decadent of me to not wake earlier — yet I was far too comfortable in the room you provided. I must argue that the blame should be shared."

Elizabeth showed him her challenging smile and set about collecting food onto her plate. Darcy replied, "Most mornings I am up by 7 o'clock — my rooms do not force one to sleep until nine."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled at each other, and Bingley exclaimed, "Pray, do not believe him — he was asleep this morning near as late as you."

Elizabeth dimpled as she sat down next to Darcy, her plate loaded with one of each type of pastry provided by his cook. "Shame on you Mr. Darcy."

"That does not affect my point. For it was not the rooms which kept me abed — and everyone else was awake much earlier. The cause must be particular — not general to the house."

"Perhaps you go too far, maybe it is the interaction of the house with a particular circumstance. Had this been Longbourn, I would've been walking about by 8 o'clock. I have found Pemberley's one flaw: it is too comfortable." Elizabeth's eyes were bright, and her smirk delightful as she finished, "Deny that if you can."

Darcy asked, "You hope to make me claim Pemberley to be uncomfortable?"

Elizabeth's mouth was full with a lemon tart, and she swallowed before delicately wiping her lips with her napkin. "That" — she tapped the remains of the pastry — "is delectable. Your cook is not a flaw of your house. I told you that you would be unable to deny it."

"I must confess defeat then. I do love my house dearly, so I can be forgiven for agreeing it is too perfect. Though, while its perfection may lead you to sleep late on occasion, its other perfections will prevent the growth of decadence." Darcy had Elizabeth's eye. "You shall see."

Elizabeth blushed and boldly keeping his eyes said, "I look forward to the discovery."

Mr. Gardiner spoke, "Lizzy, the plan is for us to be given a proper tour of the house this morning. "

"That is a fine plan, I shall never be happy until I have seen every nook and cranny of this beautiful building and know its story!"

Seeing her here, in the halls of his ancestors, in his home, was everything Darcy had hoped for it to be. She belonged here. And after one last, sadly necessary, trip to Longbourn she would live here. Her eyes had sparkled yesterday as they toured the park.

Soon as breakfast finished, Mrs. Reynolds joined to help guide the tour. Darcy enjoyed the clever questions Elizabeth asked his housekeeper and saw the beginning of mutual respect grow between them. Elizabeth's questions were detailed and sincerely interested, and both Darcy and Georgian enthusiastically retold all the old stories. As a result their progress was quite slow.

They had tramped up and down the halls for two hours when Bingley whispered with Jane and then shouted out, "We must finish this another day. Jane is a little fatigued, and she wishes to sit down."

Darcy felt a little shamed. He had been so intent on watching and speaking with Elizabeth that he had failed to attend to the rest of his guests. It was hardly the best behavior for a host. "What have you in mind?"

Bingley gave a small shrug, "For myself, I would like to begin our planned fishing expedition. Gardiner, you recall what I said about that spot by the stream — you do not wish to delay longer I am sure."

Darcy did not wish to be separated from Elizabeth, but he had promised Mr. Gardiner an opportunity to enjoy the excellent possibilities for fishing at Pemberley. It would be ungracious to delay unnecessarily.

In twenty minutes he was out with his friend and Mr. Gardiner. The branches of the trees extended over the stream and formed a shaded area that his father had found to produce excellent results while fishing. A small gazebo had been built to provide shelter when it rained, and they had a set of excellent lounge chairs.

The three men were mostly quiet, and Bingley and Mr. Gardiner appeared to concentrate on the task in front of them.

Darcy's mind was on Elizabeth. He wanted to leave them and look for her. But it would be rude (though he trusted both Bingley and Mr. Gardiner to take it in good humor). Besides, if he did so too quickly, she would tease him for it.

Darcy lasted more than an hour and caught several trout himself. However, when he glanced back towards the house, he detected movement. It was two women traveling from the house towards the orangery. He thought it was Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds, though the distance made certainty impossible.

Darcy had no ability to resist such a temptation, and he made an excuse to Bingley and Mr. Gardiner. He promised to return shortly, but if Elizabeth was in the orangery, he would define the terms of the promise quite liberally.

When Darcy reached the glass building, he saw Mrs. Reynolds and Elizabeth. Elizabeth sat on a bench and intently examined the roots of one of the citrus trees that flourished in the carefully controlled conditions. Darcy opened the door and stepped in.

Mrs. Reynolds curtsied while Elizabeth stood. She said with a bright smile, "Your fishing expedition cannot be very good if you abandoned it this soon — and after you praised Pemberley's ponds so high to my uncle. And you brought Bingley into the deception as well. Fie on you both."

Darcy smiled. He had known Elizabeth would tease him for leaving them. "I have regularly fished there since boyhood. My attention could hardly be so fixed upon it as your uncle's. I spied you walking towards the orangery, and it was impossible for me to not follow."

"Aha, I see. You think my company to be more tempting than that of the fish. Until now I believed you to be the perfect gentleman. But the gentlemanly pursuits of writing, fishing, and hunting are to be paramount. You should be ashamed, Mr. Darcy, ashamed."

"My dear Miss Bennet, you must blame yourself. If Pemberley is too comfortable, you are too tempting."

Elizabeth blushed, but her smile showed her delight at the compliment. Darcy said to Mrs. Reynolds, "You must have some task which might command your attention. I would not claim my knowledge to match yours, but I know enough of the orangery and the history of its plants to give Miss Bennet a creditable tour."

The servant looked between the two, and when Elizabeth smiled at her, she gave a curtsy and left. Darcy felt in his entire being that he was alone with Elizabeth for the first time since they arrived. A taut tension vibrated in the air between them.

Elizabeth broke it first, "How shall you entertain me? I just learned about those trees" — she pointed to the middle of the room — "and heard two delightful stories about you as a child. Shall you share your own childhood reminisces with me? Something horridly embarrassing I hope."

She smiled sweetly. She was far too tempting; he wanted to kiss that smiling face and hold her body tight against him forever. Darcy's heart hammered, and he stepped close to her.

He could tell she was affected too from how her lips trembled, and her eyes were fixed upon his face. She did not step back at his approach. He'd had a vague idea that he wished to wait and ask her in the last few days of the visit to Pemberley. That was an obviously foolish scheme.

Their faces were only a foot apart, and Darcy's stomach squirmed with unexpected anxiety. He said in a low voice, "Elizabeth —" he paused and swallowed unable to continue. Elizabeth nodded fractionally, her eyes not deviating from his. Darcy began again, "Elizabeth would you —"

The door to the orangery slammed open, and Jane ran in. She grabbed her startled sister in a tight embrace, crying out, "Oh, Lizzy, she's run off! She's run off."

A cold pre-sentiment froze Darcy's irritation as Elizabeth snappishly quizzed her sister, "Who ran off?"

Then Elizabeth went pale in realization, even before Jane replied, "Lydia, she's run off! With Wickham. She's run off with Wickham. Here, read." Elizabeth's lips trembled as she smoothed out the paper Jane thrust into her hand and began to read with wide eyes.

As Elizabeth read, Darcy sought details from Jane, "When did this happen? Are they married? Has Wickham made any demands?"

"Oh, I hardly know — Papa does not think they went past London, though Lydia expected them to go straight to Scotland. I cannot believe Wickham is so bad as to run off with Lydia if he had no intent to marry her." Darcy and Elizabeth shared a look. Neither had any trust in Wickham's good character. "Oh! Charles will tell you everything — I sent him to prepare our carriage, I must find my aunt. Poor Lydia!"

Darcy frowned and paced back and forth. The scent of the fruit laden citrus trees wafted about. Poor Lydia indeed! Was there any hope she could be retrieved without needing to marry that scoundrel? He must find Mrs. Younge. She was his easiest hope. Wickham did not have very many friends who might help him. Men had kept tabs on Mrs. Younge, and her address was filed both in his London house and here.

Having established a plan to hunt down Lydia, Darcy exited his preoccupation far enough to look at Elizabeth. She had finished the letter and stared at him. Tears had begun to leak from her eyes. Darcy desperately wanted to place arms about her and hold her tight until she felt warm and secure and happy again.

If only Jane had sought her aunt before her sister!

He could not finish his proposals while a family disaster loomed over them and Elizabeth wept so. He clenched his fists and turned his face aside, so he could not see Elizabeth. He must control his urge to embrace and kiss her. He did not yet have the right to hold her so intimately.

"What news does the letter contain?"

Elizabeth's voice was anguished, "There is no sign of the roads north of London! No sign. My father delayed his express until his first attempts to search for them had failed. We would have known yesterday. There is no sign. Oh, poor Lydia! To have her life ruined so. And to implicate us all in her shame."

Darcy looked back at Elizabeth. She wept, covering her eyes with one hand and holding the crumpled express in the other. He felt an intense tenderness. Her blotchy cheeks were beautiful. He took her hand and softly pulled the letter from it. "Please, is there anything I might do? A glass of wine? A handkerchief?"

Darcy forced his handkerchief into Elizabeth's other hand, and when she took it and blew into it, he said, "I promise, this shall somehow come out aright."

"Poor thoughtless Lydia!" Elizabeth burst out, tugging at her hand. "It cannot. Not when Wickham is the one who chose to take advantage of her stupidity. You know as well as I that he shall not marry her without a substantial sum. This disgrace must affect us all, even Jane and Bingley. Oh! I cannot wish enough to be paid, and Wickham will not be reasonable — I feel sure he does this in part for revenge."

Darcy dropped Elizabeth's hand and looked away unhappily. Yes, Wickham sought to gain revenge upon him by hurting Bingley and Elizabeth. This was his fault, had he managed Wickham better Elizabeth would not be in pain now.

Elizabeth added, "Yet, if they do not marry, Lydia's character will be ruined forever. Oh! Why did this need to happen? My family has now proved itself immoral. It shames me. I am ashamed, so ashamed."

"You have no reason for shame. You did all you could. You attempted to protect your sister. It — no shame lies on you. You could do nothing. Do not blame yourself."

Darcy paced again. His mind was full of the situation. "But must they be made to marry? Is there no other possibility? To be connected so to that man" — Darcy shook his head — "that would be terrible indeed."

Lydia was a thoughtless girl of fifteen; she did not deserve to suffer her entire life from such an irretrievable choice made now. The failure was her father's far more than her own.

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands and sobbed. It was a small choking sound, and she visibly struggled to keep from loudly weeping. Darcy watched her, his heart in his throat. Now, when Elizabeth was so distressed — in part due to his own failure — he realized more than ever before how much he cared for her.

Another minute and he would have embraced and kissed Elizabeth. Bingley burst into the conservatory. Red-faced and agitated, he shouted out, "Darcy, I must have your help. Have you any idea where that scoundrel Wickham may have gone to ground with my sister in London?"

Darcy opened his mouth to reply, but Bingley spoke over him, "Quickly man — I plan to ride within the half hour. I need your help. That scoundrel has run off with my sister, and Jane says he has no plan to marry her. I swear I'll shoot him if he doesn't."

Elizabeth made a distressed gasp. Darcy spoke, "Don't be a fool! That creature is not gentleman enough to be dueled. Of course I shall come with you."

Bingley's scowl lightened. "Of course you shall. I should have known. Of course you shall. Come now, it is a hurry. Lizzy, your aunt and Jane are in the drawing room with that view of the hedge maze in the gardens. Jane is distraught. Your presence may comfort her."

Could not Bingley see that Elizabeth was distraught as well? Lydia was her sister, also. Elizabeth nodded, though Bingley did not see it as he was already rushing out the door.

When Darcy did not immediately follow him, Bingley shouted back into the orangery, "Come, quickly."

"There is a hurry, but might I do anything for you before I leave?" Darcy looked worriedly at Elizabeth. Her cheeks were covered in tears. She shook her head without looking up at him.

Bingley's voice called from the hallway, "I've ordered one of your people to saddle your horse and prepare a bag. Hurry! A certain speed is essential. Mr. Bennet delayed too long before he called us to London."

Elizabeth at last looked at him with a forlorn smile and gestured towards the door. "Go. I shall be fine and must find my sister."

It was impossible to leave without a final gesture, Darcy seized Elizabeth's hand again and kissed it. She still clutched his handkerchief. "I swear, I shall make this well for your sister."

With Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley gone ahead, there was little reason for the ladies to rush. Still they packed and prepared quickly, and it was early in the afternoon when they set off for London.

What had Darcy meant? To be connected so to that man. That would be terrible indeed.

For a while, Elizabeth distracted herself with the rush of packing and muttering in a low voice about the dire probabilities of a good outcome with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. They had split the party so everyone would have be able to stretch out during the journey, and Elizabeth was in Mr. Bingley's carriage, with her aunt and uncle, while Jane rode with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley in the Darcy's carriage.

Elizabeth was too anxious to hold her part of the conversation. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner shifted between silence and repetition of speculations already well-worn. This could not keep Elizabeth's mind away from Mr. Darcy. His manner had been so odd, and Elizabeth could not settle for herself what it meant.

He had been about to ask her for her hand. She was sure of that. Then Jane interrupted them, for a second time. If Elizabeth was not miserable, she would laugh. Then he turned and paced while she read. That was simply his manner when absorbed in thought.

After Jane left, he looked at her, then he clenched his fists and stared away from her. What had been his meaning? She'd been crying. She should not distrust him, but it was then Elizabeth wondered if the behavior of her family had finally destroyed his regard.

She had begun to weep, and he immediately tried to comfort her. He had been so eager to hold her hand. He had assured her that this did not lower his estimation of her at all.

Some thought made him drop her hand. Then, without looking at her, as his footsteps took him back and forth between the orange trees, he said it: But must they be made to marry? To be connected so to that man. That would be terrible indeed.

Darcy hated Wickham. She did not know the real source of his dislike, but for a moment, Elizabeth was convinced that while the immorality of her family would not scare him off, he would refuse to connect himself to Wickham.

She had begun to weep again. Darcy had seized her hand again before Bingley dragged him off, but he tried to comfort her by swearing things would be well for her sister. Was that merely because he believed her distress was entirely due to Lydia?

Lydia's situation affected her not nearly so much as the fear that this at last would drive Darcy away. It was selfish to care mainly for herself in a time like this, but Elizabeth never claimed to be anything else. Any man but Darcy would certainly be driven away.

But Darcy was honorable. He cared for the substance of things and not appearances. He would care more for the joy they found together. He would remember the way she softened his mood and made him smile. Lydia's behavior, a connection to Wickham, could not end his desire to make her laugh and his hopes for a settled home.

Darcy would not hesitate at the scandal or unhappy connection. He was too wise to destroy their future happiness over such a thing.

She must trust him. She must believe that he expressed unhappiness for Lydia and fear of what her life would be once she married Mr. Wickham.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner asked if Darcy had told her anything about his plans. She had little to say, beyond that he had promised to make things well for Lydia. Elizabeth's heart beat uncomfortably the entire afternoon, and her stomach was too unsettled to allow her to eat that evening.

It was a miserable, quiet party at the inn that night. The next day Elizabeth and Mrs. Annesley switched places. Now it was Georgiana, Jane and Elizabeth in the Darcy carriage.

Jane had awoken in an optimistic frame of mind and, after they had been on the journey a while, said, "The situation no longer seems so poor to me. I know you think very ill of him, Lizzy, but Wickham cannot be wholly bereft of proper feeling. He would not have gone off with Lydia if he did not feel real affection for her, and so long as papa and my husband guarantee them enough to live upon, he should willingly marry her."

Elizabeth stared at Jane. Rather than goodness this was hopeless innocence.

"You are wrong. Entirely wrong." They both looked at Georgiana. "That worthless, vile man will never marry your sister. Not without a great sum of money. He has no proper feelings. He feels nothing but lust or greed for her."

Jane appeared shocked. Elizabeth now understood. The realization felt like a limb had been torn from her body. Darcy hated Wickham and would refuse to connect himself in any way to Wickham because he had terribly hurt Georgiana.

Jane blinked. "Surely he cannot be that bad. Those are very harsh terms."

"Do not doubt me. I know what I speak of!" Georgiana refused to let Elizabeth take her hand. "You may not wish to acknowledge me once you learn the truth. I was foolish, imprudent, and nearly immoral."

Elizabeth could see how distraught Georgiana was, and despite the chill she felt, she needed to comfort the girl. Jane and Elizabeth had sat on the seats facing opposite from Georgiana, and Elizabeth, holding her hand against the vibrating wall of the carriage to steady herself, jumped to the other side and pulled her arm around the shrinking girl.

"Georgie, you need not speak if you do not wish. I promise that nothing he may have done will change my affection for you."

Georgiana had started weeping, but allowed Elizabeth to hold her and Jane to squeeze her hand. "I must speak. You must hear what sort of man he was. Do not promise that this shall not affect your regard until you have heard. Wickham convinced me to elope with him last summer at Ramsgate. I would have done it. I thought I was in love with him. It was only the barest luck that my brother arrived the day before we were to execute the plans. I would not hide the scheme from him."

"It would have been imprudent," Jane said, "but not immoral. Wickham, perhaps, did hold you in some real affection. It had been very wrong for him to encourage you to marry without your families approval, but —"

"He did not. He said he hated me! I hid to overhear his conversation with Fitzwilliam, and he openly owned that he had only sought to attach me for my dowry and revenge against my brother."

Jane clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh! That is horrible. And to have overheard that, it must have hurt you so." She moved to the other side of the carriage, and Georgiana was tightly squeezed between the sisters.

Georgiana sobbed. "I don't deserve your friendship. I was a horrible girl and sister. You both are so good, and I know you would never act so foolishly."

Elizabeth would have told the story, in a manner to make Georgiana laugh, of how Wickham had deceived her, and how she gained her revenge on him, but it reminded her of Darcy. Of their argument, and of how he cared for her.

That would be terrible indeed.

Her breaths came fast. He would not connect Georgiana to the man who'd hurt her so. He wouldn't. But he had no choice. He had near enough promised to marry her that his honor was engaged. Even if he regretted it, he still must ask her.

Elizabeth saw years of Wickham able to bother Darcy and Georgiana because she had connected him to them. She could not do that. She had to let him go. She felt tense and numb, almost as though it was someone else's arm that held Georgiana.

"Lizzy, what is the matter?" Georgiana's voice seemed distant. The girl gasped. "You can't! You can't let me stop you marrying Fitzwilliam. He loves you. Don't hurt him that way because of me. I know you can't want me for a sister but send me off instead. I'll live with — I'll even live with Aunt Catherine."

Georgiana's anxious plea snapped Elizabeth out of her panic. She pulled in a deep breath. Then several more.

Georgian spoke again, "Promise me you'll marry him. We were all so happy, you can't let my immorality destroy it."

"Georgie, you did not behave immorally. Even if you had, it could not damage my affection for you. There is no one I would wish more than you to have as another sister. But — if Lydia marries Wickham, surely you would not wish him to be so closely connected to you and Mr. Darcy. Would not such a connection be terrible indeed?"

"How can you think I would care? It is a quite distant connection in any case, and I would never need to meet him. Even if I thought it would hurt me, you cannot think me so selfish as to wish you and Fitzwilliam to be unhappy over it."

"Yes, but — does your brother feel the same way? Good sense must rebel against becoming the brother of such a man as Wickham." Elizabeth added in a forlorn voice, "He must come to regret the connection."

Georgiana recoiled away from Elizabeth with an open mouth. "You cannot think that. My brother loves you, surely you understand that. He is not so disloyal."

"But he said — he said: 'But must they be made to marry? To be connected so to that man would be terrible indeed.'"

"He felt sorry for your sister. Obviously." Georgiana crossed her arms and tried to get as far away from Elizabeth as she could by squeezing against Jane. "How can you doubt Fitzwilliam?"

Georgiana's anger reassured Elizabeth. She knew her brother well. Elizabeth let out a long breath and slumped against the red cushions of the carriage. Much of her panic drained away, leaving a dull unpleasant residue in her stomach. She was mostly sure Georgiana was right, and she had promised to trust Darcy. She must trust him.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and the carriage was silent for several minutes. Elizabeth opened her eyes again, Georgiana still glared at her, and Jane's eyes were concerned.

Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana; her hand trembled as she touched the girls shoulder. "You are right, I must — I do — trust your brother. It is only that I am distraught. My emotions are unsettled. I have been tense and fear some disaster. I will not be happy until…" Elizabeth blushed. She would not be happy until Darcy smiled at her again and assured her that all was well.

Georgiana's anger immediately ended, and the girl now attempted to comfort her, hugging her again and saying, "Oh, Lizzy, this must be so hard for you. It will be well, I am sure of it. Fitzwilliam loves you."

Georgiana's words did comfort. Elizabeth knew Darcy loved her. But the chill did not disappear, and she still needed to offer to release him from any obligation he felt.

Darcy and Bingley had made good time on the road from Derbyshire to London, and they arrived at Darcy's house in town several hours before dusk the day after Mr. Bennet's express was received. They had gone by horseback the entire way and were sore, dirty, and smelly. They rode the previous day until it was quite dark and then set out before dawn in the morning. Darcy drooped with fatigue.

No express had been sent ahead, and it would have arrived only a few hours before them if they had. His housekeeper and butler were surprised to see the master and his friend arrive. Still, even though food, a bath, and a change of clothes were not immediately ready, the house — and its stuffed chairs and sofas — was a sight for sore bodies.

Darcy and Bingley both collapsed in one of the smaller rooms, leaving the dust covers draped over the sofas so they would not be stained with their clothing. Neither spoke for a good twenty minutes. They did not stir when the butler entered and left behind a tray of cheese, rolls, and sliced fruit with a decanter of wine.

On the road the two decided to see if Mr. Bennet had discovered anything further before Darcy sought out Mrs. Younge. They had no note from him when they arrived, and at last Bingley roused himself with an effort. "I suppose I must go by my uncle's place to see if a message is left from Mr. Bennet there."

Darcy grunted and forced himself to sit up. He had never ridden such a distance in such a short span of time. Once or twice before he had ridden between Pemberley and London. But it had been comparatively leisurely. "Refresh yourself first" — Darcy gestured at the tray left by his butler — "a few minutes more or less can make no difference."

Bingley nodded and pulled the tray close to himself. He took a thick wedge of cheese and several rolls and quickly ate them with little show of manners. Darcy immediately joined Bingley in stuffing the food into his mouth as quickly as he could eat. The two friends then shared a quick glass of wine before Bingley pushed himself up, holding a last roll, and said, "I am off, wish me success and good news."

Darcy waved his friend off but was too sore to stand. It was unlikely Mr. Bennet found anything, and he needed to search out Mrs. Younge's address. Ten minutes after Bingley left, Darcy stood and rang for the meal to be cleared.

His back and thighs throbbed with each step, and they would feel worse the next morning. Darcy slowly worked his way up the stairs like a much older man. All of the papers related to Wickham were kept in the safe, and Darcy pulled them out as a group.

That worthless creature. Darcy thumbed through the yellowed notes which described what had been laid out for Wickham's education each year. More than half that generous allowance had gone to disreputable women and gambling. On the bottom was a copy of the receipt for the three thousand pounds Mr. Wickham had been given in exchange for renouncing right to the Kympton living.

He had received so much and had so many opportunities, and yet he still was angry at his betters for not giving him limitless support. And now Wickham had to be dealt with again. And in a situation which would permanently connect Darcy to the man.

Darcy found Mrs. Younge's address. After Georgiana's near elopement Darcy had hired investigators to track her for several months. He wished to ensure she would attempt to tell no stories. Also the entirety of her prior connection with Mr. Wickham had been discovered. Darcy copied out the address and then stared at the paper, tired and unhappy.

Eventually the lack of sleep the previous night combined with the food and wine caused Darcy to nod off as he sat in his comfortable desk chair. Darcy shook himself awake and tried to plan how to approach Mrs. Younge. However his mind could not concentrate, and after a few minutes, he slid into sleep.

He was woken from a dream where he kissed Elizabeth while threatening Wickham with a gun.

Bingley shouted greeting from the door, "Sleeping at your desk? Fortunate for you. I wish you'd been the one to head out. The hackney cab I found had a terrible driver, all jolts and rough stops. Shook my sore muscles about horridly. No chance for sleep."

Darcy's neck hurt, and his body did not want to stand. He rubbed at his eyes and looked at his friend. "You do look beaten-down. Pray, did you find Mr. Bennet? Any news?"

"It is about what we expected." Bingley sighed. "I found my father. He has discovered no information about Lydia. He confirmed no sign of them is present on the roads north of London."

"No messages sent? No calls for a meeting?"

"No, I was thinking, if Wickham hopes to gain money, he would wait until I was positively identified as being in town. Mr. Bennet has rather little he can directly give."

Darcy nodded, rolling his head around to try to work the pain and stiffness out. "Go to bed. If Wickham has told Mrs. Younge where he is, I can bribe her for his location without you. I'd rather, in any case, for Wickham to know he must deal with me if any arrangement is to be made."

Bingley grunted. "Surely, he must expect I would call for your aid."

Darcy shrugged. "I doubt he knows how close friends we are. Most families would instinctively hide news of such an event for as long as possible."

"I'm coming with you. Lydia is my sister, not yours. Your help is appreciated — but the duty to deal with her… The duty is mine."

"No, Wickham's ability to act with any credit is in part my fault, and I wish to take a full part in resolving this."

"Do not be ridiculous. This is Lydia's fault — and Mr. Bennet's. And mine. I ought to have pushed Mr. Bennet not to let Lydia go to Brighton and offered an alternative. Jane and I knew full well it was not wise to let her go. Though, I held to Jane's counsel in the matter, and she never would have imagined her sister would elope in this manner."

He hoped to marry Elizabeth, and Bingley ought to have figured that out by now. If money must be given to Wickham, he would pay the lion's share. "Bingley, I do have a very strong interest in this matter."

"Oh yes. I thought so. But, ah, have you and Lizzy… Are you two just being sly?"

"I wished to allow her to see Pemberley before I spoke. Had your wife delayed another five minutes, I believe it would be well and settled." Darcy frowned. "Bingley, could you not see that Elizabeth was distraught? You sent her right after Jane. Lydia is just as much her sister."

Bingley rubbed a hand against the back of his head. "I suppose you are right. But — we held off telling everyone because we expected a different announcement." Bingley paused and then grinned as brightly as Darcy had ever seen him. "Jane is with child. I do not wish her to be bothered more than necessary at such time."

Darcy took his friend's hand and shook it heartily. "I am delighted to hear that. You shall make an excellent father." Darcy opened the bottle of whiskey he kept near his desk and poured a tumbler for both of them. "Here. We must drink to your child and your wife."

Soon the memory of the task before them returned. Darcy said, "Let us head off to Mrs. Younge. If you insist, have it your way and come along. Promise me this: If we encounter Wickham, allow me to speak most."

A small chaise which the Darcys kept at their London home had been brought out of storage and prepared for use while Bingley sought Mr. Bennet. It was near the high point of summer, so the day ended late, and the glimpses of the red glow of the setting sun Darcy received through the buildings were beautiful. Despite the scene it was a typical London evening in the summer: loud, horridly hot, and a truly awful stench exuded from the open cesspits.

By now, the exodus of the very rich triggered by the worsening smell and end of Parliament's session was mostly complete. Yet, that did little to lessen the crowding of the streets. Most of the teeming masses of London were not gentry and their servants, but workers, merchants, and apprentices. It was the greatest city in the world and had the greatest smell and greatest traffic.

Not that Paris, Berlin, or Vienna would be any more pleasant late on a summer evening. Most likely they would not be. The stories he had heard from acquaintances in the employ of the East India Company claimed the great trading cities of the Orient were worse. And there were slave pens in the East Indies. The world was a terrible place, filled with immoral sorts like Wickham and Mrs. Younge.

Bingley fell asleep a few minutes into their trip. As Darcy's house was in a very different part of London than Mrs. Younge's location, it took them almost an hour to travel across the city. When the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the soot covered three-story building with peeling paint, Darcy gently shook Bingley awake.

He stretched, winced, and clutched at his back. "It does not look like much," Bingley noted.

Darcy nodded and slammed the knocker hard against the dilapidated door.

The door was opened by an untidy middle-aged maid with thick arms and a red face. Her surprise at the presence of two richly dressed gentlemen outside this establishment was evident in her expression, and she made a poor caricature of a curtsy before asking their business.

"Is Mrs. Younge in? I must speak with her." Darcy handed her his card.

"What do you wish to talk to the mistress about?"

"That is my business," Darcy replied gravely. "Take us to her." The woman hesitated. Darcy had little patience; he hoped to have some positive news to comfort Elizabeth when she arrived the next day. Darcy pulled from the purse kept in the inner pocket of his coat a half crown and let the woman see it.

Her eyes widened at the amount of money, which was far more than he would usually offer as a bribe in a situation of this sort, and she gave another curtsy, equally awful but with more sincerity, once Darcy handed her the coin.

Mrs. Younge was a well-educated woman, who, despite her worsened circumstances, maintained an elegant manner and dress. A little like Mr. Wickham himself in fact. She went pale when she saw Mr. Darcy. "I have done nothing against you — nothing. I've spread no stories, neither true nor false, and have only sought to provide for myself by running this establishment. You have no cause to bring against me. None. I haven't said anything about your —"

"We are not here about that." Darcy cut her off sharply and glanced at Bingley, who looked a little curious. "Pray tell, has Mr. Wickham contacted you recently, my friend wishes to find him."

"Oh." She released a nervous laugh as she realized Darcy was not angry at her. She sat down heavily in one of the only rickety chairs in her small sitting room. Mrs. Younge chuckled and said to Bingley, "Run off with your sister did he?"

Bingley startled and replied, "How did you know?"

"Don't give her unnecessary information."

Bingley flushed, and Mrs. Younge chuckled again. "I've seen the girl, are you sure you want her back? She is the worst sort of rich child. No sense in her head, none at all. Completely believes in Wickham — thinks it will be a great joke to marry before most of her sisters."

"You've seen them." Bingley stepped forward eagerly. "Do you know where Mr. Wickham is? Please tell me."

"Pray, why should I betray the location of my friend? I've known Mr. Wickham for years — he's always been good to me. Except…" She scowled at Mr. Darcy, "No, I shall not tell you."

"How much?" Darcy wished the interview over so he could sleep before hunting Wickham down the next morning.

"Mr. Darcy! How dare you suggest I am anything but a respectable woman? How dare you suggest I would betray friendship for some small pittance?"

Darcy pinched his nose tightly between his fingers. He was tired and hated that he must play these games. "I understand madam. I should not have insulted you and will seek some other method to find your friend." He stiffly bowed. "Good day."

Bingley was shocked as Darcy walked towards the door. "But, you said she was our best opportunity to find Wickham easily! She knows where Lydia is. Time is of the essence, if we find them and make them marry quickly, the scandal will not be nearly so bad. You can't give up so quickly! Madam, it is no betrayal of your friend, for he will benefit as well. Can you not understand how, as a concerned husband, I must see my wife's sister safe, and her character restored? My friend is tired, and I apologize for his insult. We are desperate, and you are our only hope: Can you not find it in your heart to help us?"

Darcy stared at Bingley in amazement. Mrs. Younge caught the look between the two of them and laughed uproariously. "Ha, ha, ha — such a good joke. Such a joke. I'll tell this one for years."

"What is amusing?" Bingley asked.

Darcy rubbed his forehead. A headache was coming. Mrs. Younge said, "I am your only hope, Mr. Darcy. Ha, ha, ha! I'd known you really wanted my help but not that you were desperate for it."

Darcy did not reply, but Bingley at last realized what he had done, "You had no intention of leaving — did you? Damn! I have no skill at these things; you know that."

"Which is why I did not wish you present. At least stay silent when we speak with Mr. Wickham. Your amiability and good humor are not assets here."

Darcy's voice had been harsh, but Bingley took no offense. "I shall take your advice and speak not a word in his presence if you do not prompt me."

Mrs. Younge laughed again and said, "Mr. Bingley, how much is the reputation of your wife's beloved sister worth to you?" Bingley opened his mouth but stammered and said nothing. Mrs. Younge continued, "Do not be cheap — every minute that passes the story of her running off with our fine handsome friend spreads."

Before Bingley actually named a number, Darcy stopped him, "Do not say anything." Bingley flushed with embarrassment, and Darcy added, "If you ever should purchase that estate you must find somebody else to negotiate the price for you. You are perfectly unqualified for the task."

Darcy frowned and thought; Mrs. Younge knew they had no other options and would feel that she could demand very much. Yet, she also knew there were limits. He needed a number, high enough for her to take seriously — and which would put a leash around her hopes — but low enough to keep him from giving the foul woman more than he must.

Before Darcy spoke, Mrs. Younge said, "Come Mr. Bingley, helping your sister must be worth at least five hundred pounds to you. Surely, you cannot find such a sum excessive."

"Do not be ridiculous," Darcy replied immediately, cutting Bingley off. "My friend is not nearly so well-off as I am. He cannot afford such expenditures so easily."

"Can you not, Mr. Bingley?" She looked Bingley closely in the eye. "I think you can, and — you are a man who deeply loves his wife. You do not wish to tell her, when next you see her, that you would not help her sister because you were greedy."

"Well," Bingley stammered.

"Mrs. Bingley is with child. Bingley would not wish me to explain to her how he took a substantial amount of money away from their future children to give to a disreputable woman. Miss Lydia has already thoroughly ruined herself. Another day, or week, or even month would not make a stupendous difference. After enough time has passed that Lydia's reputation is irretrievable, Mr. Wickham will approach us himself. So you are not, in fact, our only hope. Find a nicer number — thirty pounds."

What followed was a half hour of circling negotiations that left Bingley one hundred and fifty pounds the poorer — Darcy planned to cover more than two thirds of whatever they gave to Wickham, but this expense would come out of Bingley's pocket — and one address the richer.

Once they left Mrs. Younge's quarters, the two decided they would return to Darcy's house and then attend on the wayward couple at 7 o'clock the next morning. It would be early enough for there to be no chance they had gone out already, yet late enough that even Wickham should have returned to his lodgings.

And they would gain the advantage that Wickham would be the dreadfully tired one.

It had long since turned dark when they exited Mrs. Younge's building. For the first minutes of the carriage ride the friends maintained a silence. It was annoyed on Darcy's side — had Bingley not been there fifty pounds at the absolute most would have been paid out — and thoughtful on Bingley's. At last Bingley said, "That was an education."

Darcy grunted.

Though he could not see it, as they had not lit the carriage lamp, Darcy heard the smile in Bingley's voice as he replied, "Nay, I know you are terribly annoyed at letting that woman get anything. Yet, the story alone was well worth a hundred fifty guineas. I am not unhappy."

Bingley was irrepressible. Darcy said, "Keep in mind, the sums of money Wickham shall try to gain will be far greater than the value of any anecdote." Bingley hummed in reply, and Darcy added, "I really should be the only one who negotiates with Wickham."

"I must be there, but I promise I will say nothing."

Darcy sighed. This was the best he could hope for. "Be sure that you do not."

AN: So the next post will finish the story.

A documentary recommendation for today is Hidden Killers of the Tudor Home. There is also at least to Victorian episodes, and I think several others. Lots of fun facts like how the Tudor elites made sugar confections shaped like other foods, and then died of tooth rotting teeth. Chimneys collapsing was the biggest killer during house fires, and the reason drowning was a major cause of death is not because people couldn't swim, but because when you fall into freezing water you instinctively swallow. Also wool clothes are really heavy when soaked.

The Victorian era episode was also really good, with the disturbingly familiar story of how green wallpaper dyed with arsenic was very popular and killed lots and lots of people, but stayed legal decades after the medical community knew it was killing people because of successful lobbying efforts by the companies that kept enough doubt in the mind of legislators.

Great series.