The principles that governed a young woman's life in England were the rules of propriety. Certain behavior was considered unacceptable if one wished to be regarded as a lady. This standard was considered to be inviolate though some of the rules seemed absurd to Elizabeth. She hated any rule that deprived her of innocent pleasure and for the life of her she could not imagine what harm could come from the touch of a man's hand. When the assembly came to an end and Darcy helped her into the carriage she wanted to feel the touch of his warm flesh so much she ached. She had instead to settle for the warmth of his dark eyes. This too made her feel sick as she knew she wanted him to take her home. Not to Longbourn, and cetainly not to Netherfield where Caroline Bingley held court. No. She wanted to go to Pemberley and lock herself away with him forever. She was ashamed to think how she had condemned Lydia. Was this how Lydia had felt about Wickham? She shuddered to think so. As the carriage began to move, she couldn't take her eyes off him as he raised his hand to bid her good night. Then her mother began to speak in her high-pitched screech and the magical moment dissolved into despair.

Mrs. Bennet's joy could not be voiced with more animation nor in louder tones. She always knew that Jane could not be so beautiful without a good reason and now she knew that reason was to marry the sweet-natured and very rich Mr. Bingley. Lydia and Wickham were all forgotten and now Jane had taken Lydia's place as the favorite child. And was not Mr. Bingley's sister the finest lady anyone could see? Orange had to be all the rage in London...she must write to her sister Gardiner and have her send her new patterns and plumes...lots of plumes.

Then she turned her attention to Elizabeth and her exaltation turned venomous. Elizabeth was an ungrateful daughter...had she not refused Mr. Collins...who did she think she was? And now with the richest man in Derbyshire showing interest in her, what did she do? She stared at him and refused to utter one word of encouragement which might secure the happiness of the entire family. By the time her mother ran out of words Elizabeth felt her misery complete. But the evening's ordeal was not yet over.

At Longbourn Elizabeth had to endure Jane's company for a full half- hour before her sister ran out of words to describe what a lovely evening it had been. With a determined smile on her face she listened to Jane rhapsodizing on Charles Bingley's considerable merits; how clever, sweet, intelligent, what a wonderful dancer and how happy he was to be so readily accepted in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth stifled several yawns which Jane was perfectly oblivious of, so caught up in her happiness was she. Feeling rather churlish about her lack of enthusiasm, Elizabeth went on automatic and did her best to smile and nod at the appropriate places but fervently hoped that Jane would eventually tire of enumerating all the attributes of her lover. The rest of the house had grown silent before Jane finally wore down and bid her sister sweet dreams and retired to her own room.

Elizabeth dropped down on the edge of the bed and sat quietly, not yet ready to attempt sleep, wondering what Darcy was doing at that very moment. She wanted to believe that he was thinking about her but common sense said he was probably fast asleep. She was still a country girl with little to recommend her except for a pert and sassy disposition for which her mother had berated her on the way back from the assembly. Her confidence had been completely undermined by the time she reached her room. She thought that the evening had been wonderful but now she wasn't sure. What on earth had prompted her to be so open with a man she hardly even knew? What must he think of her? Why hadn't her mother kept her thoughts to herself? Why couldn't her mother allow her to enjoy the memories of that night? What if he never wanted to see her again? Was she in the process go going mad? It was a distinct possibility.

At length, she stood and absently began to divest herself of her dress and petticoat, throwing them on a nearby chair. After a moment's consideration she did what would convince Mrs. Bennet that her least favorite daughter was the spawn of the devil. She approached the full-length mirror, then slid the straps of her camisole off her shoulders letting it fall to the floor. She kicked the garment away and stood regarding her naked body in the dim light. What she saw did not please her. She had seen enough paintings and statuaries to understand what a man found to be the ideal of the female body. Rubenesque, she was not. She carried no extra weight on her despite knowing that plumpness was a sign of being rich and healthy. She saw a young woman with full breasts and hips with a narrow waist and flat stomach...everything a man would find undesirable in a womanly figure. Pleasingly plump, she was not, and her heart sank even further. Her mother had been haranguing her for years to eat more so she could develop a body which would be sexually pleasing to a man. Even her legs did not conform to beauty's criterion...much too thin and well defined no doubt due to her love of the outdoors and her long walks. She had once heard her mother and aunt Phillips snickering about the kind of legs a man wanted gripping him. Elizabeth wasn't sure what that meant but feared that her legs were all wrong as well as the rest of her body. The only thing she could find remotely attractive about herself were her eyes. She had been blessed with large double-lashed eyes that could flash in annoyance or good humor but it was doubtful that her eyes would be of any use in the marriage bed. With a heavy heart she put her nightgown on and went to bed where she lay until the sun began to rise before she found comfort in sleep.

In the morning Elizabeth was further disheartened when she looked in the mirror and saw the dark shadows under her eyes. Her only redeeming feature now reminded her of two large pools of mud and just as attractive. Naturally, her mother commented on her appearance the moment she entered the breakfast room. Silence was preferable to hanging for matricide so Elizabeth ignored her and contented herself with a slice of hot bread slathered with some strawberry preserves which she washed down with a large cup of coffee. From boredom she had been taking notes on the eating habits of her family and neighbors for years and had determined that an excess of butter, creams and gravies seemed to go hand in hand with obesity so she indulged herself with rich foods only on occasion. Probably why she didn't conform with the accepted standards of beauty not that it mattered anymore. She had determined that she would no longer think of Mr. Darcy except as a common and indifferent acquaintance, one way to retain her sanity.

Shortly after Mr. Bennet retired to his study Charlotte Lucas arrived much to Elizabeth's delight. That Charlotte and the Misses Bennet should meet after an assembly was absolutely necessary to hear and communicate.

"You began and ended the evening very well, Charlotte" Mrs. Bennet managed with civility. "Though I must admit I thought it rather unseemly the way you threw yourself at a much younger man."

"Mother!" Elizabeth cried.

Charlotte glanced at Elizabeth, "she's right, Lizzie. I'm at least a year older then Mr. Postlewaite. He would be much better suited for Kitty."

"There, you see Lizzie?" Mrs. Bennet cried in triumph, "Charlotte understands perfectly. "She would be better off with a much older man and I dare say there are plenty of them around."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her mother's stupidity and Kitty giggled much like an hysterical goose. "Wonderful idea," Elizabeth drawled, "Kitty could giggle him to death." As usual, irony was lost on her mother. How on earth had she been born to such a family? The more she thought of it, the more she knew that she would be mortified to have Darcy witness such ignorance. Her mother and sister had not a modicum of sense between the two of them.

When Jane suggested that they go out into the garden Elizabeth and Charlotte rose with alacrity, however, Mrs. Bennet had a few words for her recalcitrant daughter. "Lizzie, stay a while. I would speak to you on a matter of great importance."

Once they were alone, Elizabeth preempted Mrs. Bennet's further instructions on how to use her arts and allurements. "Mother, I will not listen to another word on how I should comport myself with a man. You're the last person on earth I would take advice from. I've not forgotten how you insisted that I marry Mr. Collins though you knew how repulsive I found him. That you would sentence me to a life of misery with a man I despised was not good advice." Elizabeth took a ragged breath, "And last night after I pleaded with you not to mention Lydia's name, almost the first thing you told Mr. Darcy, was that your fifteen year old daughter had married Mr. Wickham. Did you know that Wickham grew up on the Darcy estate? That he was the son of Mr. Darcy's steward? The master of Pemberley will never connect himself to a family who's daughter ran off with his servant's son, so you will do well not to spread one of your unfounded rumors. You will only make yourself look ridiculous. And as far as your new friend Miss Bingley is concerned, I have it on good authority that she is a first rate snob. I seriously doubt she will be pleased with any rumors connecting her brother with this family."

Mrs. Bennet had turned white and for the first time in Elizabeth's memory did not mention her nerves or call for her smelling salts. "How dare you speak to me like that? I've always done my best for you girls"

"Do you still believe you did your best when you encouraged Lydia to run after every man in long pants?"

"She's married isn't she? I think Lydia did very well for herself."

"Then you are a fool, Mother. I don't believe for a minute that Lydia is married. Mr. Wickham is nearly twice Lydia's age and he is still a lowly lieutenant...that smacks of indolence. And surely you haven't forgotten that he left debts to half the tradesmen in Meryton. Do you still say you did your best for your girls? I think not!"

Mrs. Bennet waved off Elizabeth's words dismissively, "you think you know it all! Just because you always have your nose in a book doesn't make you an expert on everything. Wait till you have five girls to marry off...that is if any man will connect himself with you."

Elizabeth regarded her mother with deep sadness, "I know I'm your least favorite daughter. How could I not? You never tire of telling anyone who will listen just how selfish and thoughtless I am. I'm sorry that I've been such a disappointment to you. But disappointment works both ways, mother." She turned and ran up to her room feeling the tears coursing down her face. She hadn't said anything she hadn't been thinking but hearing the words out loud made her acknowledge the truth. Darcy would never consider her as a wife and she had to face it.

At Netherfield Darcy was still half awake having a cup of coffee at the small table set near his bedroom window when he saw a lone rider approaching the park . He recognized the carriage of the man on his mount before he recognized the man. Rumor had it that Richard had been born in the saddle as he seemed to be part of the animal when he rode whether into war or on a pleasant jaunt. Darcy had expected him to arrive later that afternoon with Lady Catherine, Anne and Georgiana. What he was doing in Hertfordshire and at such an early hour was a puzzle but he felt no alarm; Richard was a restless soul. It was just like him to take off at dawn and ride twenty-five miles.

Darcy gave orders for Richard to be directed to his room along with another pot of coffee and some sweet rolls, then waited patiently for his cousin to appear. When Richard finally made his entrance, Darcy relaxed immediately. Richard was grinning broadly and obviously in good spirits. "Coffee and sweet rolls! Well done, Cousin. Now for a soft cushion for my aching bottom." He grabbed a pillow from Darcy's bed and threw it on his chair before gingerly lowering himself. "Ah, that's better," he sighed. "I've got a boil the size of an egg where I never allow the sun to shine if I can help it."

"Ill have Miss Bingley lance it for you. I'm sure she'd be happy to accommodate a dear cousin of mine. So, where are the ladies?"

"Still another day doing girlie things. I swear, Darcy, I love them to death but when they start spending money their excitement can be absolutely terrifying to a poor soldier. Anne and Georgie can't possibly wear all the frocks they've ordered, and my mother and Lady Catherine have bought enough furniture to fill a palace."

"How is Lady Catherine? Still behaving herself?"

Richard laughed lightly, "I don't recognize the dragon. She and my mother are as thick as thieves, giggling together like a couple of schoolgirls. What's more remarkable is that our aunt seems almost pretty at times. Is it possible that happiness can alter the face of a plain woman?"

"According to Voltaire, Beauty pleases the eye but sweetness of disposition charms the soul."

"Speaking of a sweet disposition, how is our dear hostess? Has she charmed your soul?"

Darcy couldn't contain a sigh, "I honestly don't know what to make of her.. She seems to be determined to hate everything and everyone. She seemed happy enough when we left for the assembly last night, but within twenty minutes her mood had soured."

"Did you dance with her?"

"Richard, I have tried everything within the rules of propriety to show her that she is not the woman for me. Hurst has warned me that if I even say hello, her expectations rise. I simply won't dance with her again."

"Fair enough. Did Miss Elizabeth attend?"

Darcy nodded, "and before you ask, of course I danced with her."

"And is that when Caroline's mood soured?"

"No. I was on the way to introducing Miss Elizabeth when Caroline suddenly left the assembly dragging the Hursts with her. She was obviously in high dudgeon...but that's her usual state so I gave it little notice."

"Enough of Caroline. Tell me about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. How is she? If I remember correctly, that lady possesses both beauty and sweetness of disposition"

"She's quite well. She had an astounding story to tell...one I'm sure you will find of interest."

"A story? Wonderful! I love a good story."

"It concerns George Wickham who came in the middle of the night and stole Miss Lydia Bennet away from her family."

Richard sat up straight, "huh?" The sudden movement brought a wince of pain from him and he groaned.

"Succinct as always, Cousin, but to be fair, that is precisely what I thought when Miss Elizabeth related this fascinating tale."

"Darcy, what the hell are you taking about?"

"About a week ago, Miss Lydia Bennet left her home at Longbourn sometime after dark, leaving behind a note saying that George Wickham had come for her and they were not to be followed as they planned to be married and this time they would not be found."

To Darcy's relief, Richard neither looked shocked nor puzzled, but threw his head back and laughed hardily. "That Miss Lydia," he managed between guffaws, "is a piece of work. No wonder Wickham found her interesting for five minutes. Trust me, Cousin, Wickham is long dead and no doubt smoldering in a pauper's grave as we speak."

Darcy winced, "that's a pretty picture you've painted, but why would she write such a letter to her family?"

"Darcy, think on it. We are the only two who are privy to the real facts. I hate to assail the character of a gentleman's daughter...particularly a sister of the lovely Miss Elizabeth...but after a week in the company of Wickham I'm sure she found Hertfordshire much too tame. She probably ran off to find Wickham or to make her way in the world...no doubt in a brothel."

"Richard!"

"Sorry, old man, but in case you've forgotten, I'm the one who took the lady in question kicking and screaming from that roach filled hovel. She was half naked and painted like a harlot. She took to that life like a duck to water. She showed absolutely no remorse for the pain she had caused to her family. There was not a doubt in my mind that she was lost forever." Richard poured another cup of coffee, "so, I know that disguise is your abhorrence, but I trust that you'll use some circumspection when you next speak to Miss Elizabeth."

Darcy nodded. "I've already come up with a story."

"Good! Now that's clear, I would like to talk about my favorite subject. Me!"

Despite himself, Darcy couldn't help laughing. "With such an unfathomable subject, that could take hours. Could you cut to the last week?"

"Remember I told you that I'd turned in my resignation? Well, I did. But that wasn't the entire story. My general refused to submit it to London. He decided to hold it for three months in case I changed my mind."

"And have you?"

Richard hesitated for a moment and reached for another sweet roll. "We did," he said.

"You and the General?"

Richard had the grace to blush, "Anne and I."

Darcy sat stunned, "Anne and you?"

Richard rolled his eye, "yes, Cousin. Anne and I. I decided that as my wife, Anne should have a say in our future."

"Good grief!"

"If that's your way of congratulating me, I thank you."

For a moment Darcy was incapable of speech. "You're to marry Anne? How did this come about?"

Richard shrugged, "she was playing the pianoforte."

Darcy waited for Richard to continue. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to, Darcy spoke impatiently, "surely you don't propose to every woman who plays the pianoforte."

"Certainly not," Richard replied, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I can't explain it myself. I was looking at her and I thought that if I loved her...and I do...there was not much sense in waiting any longer. And with the general giving me time, I thought why not ask her? So I did."

"So, she was playing the pianoforte and you grabbed her and said, 'what say we get married kiddo?'"

"Certainly not! Where did you get such an idea?"

"From your own mouth, Cousin."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that wasn't one of my better ideas. No, I simply sat down with her and one thing led to another. She seemed pleased with my offer and that was that."

"Sounds very romantic."

Richard grinned, "as a matter of fact, it was."

"And are you happy, Richard?"

"I think I am. One minute I wonder what on earth I've done and the next minute I think how wonderful it will be to have someone to help me through life. That's all marriage is, after all. And I confess that I'm looking forward to it."

"And when will this ceremony take place?"

"In a few weeks, I suppose."

"But...but, what about the courtship? That will take at least six months."

Richard exploded with glee, "why you damned fool. According to Anne, we've been courting for ten years. She says that's time enough. We will be wed before autumn."

When Darcy and Richard made their way into the breakfast room they found Bingley and Peter enjoying a hardy repast. Richard was introduced to Peter and Darcy was amused to watch the two men taking the measure of each other before shaking hands and exchanging civilities. "Delighted, etc.," Richard said.

"Etc. to you too, Colonel Fitzwilliams" Peter returned.

Richard obviously liked what he saw and settled down for his own hardy repast. "So, what's on the menu today?"

Bingley answered, "I thought we might visit Longbourn. It's such a beautiful day, perhaps we can all take a walk in the countryside."

"Wonderful idea," Richard responded. "I'm sure that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet will be delighted to show us Hertfordshire."

Peter laughed out loud but Bingley ignored both of them, "I thought we could ride into Meryton, then walk to Longbourn."

"Riding is out of the question for me. I've got a thing on my thing. I'd be better off soaking in a hot tub."

"A thing on your thing?"

"And where," asked Peter, "is the thing, Colonel Fitzwilliam? I trust it isn't catching?"

Bingley set down his coffee cup, "Catching?"

Darcy shook his head at the clueless expression on Bingley's face, "Not where you think, Mr. Postlewaite, but apparently just as painful. For the past half-hour he's been applying hot compresses and using words that would make a sailor blush."

"Perhaps it should be lanced," Peter suggested.

"Darcy suggested that, but he knows very well that Miss Caroline doesn't like me."

Peter's eyes widened at the implication but didn't dare laugh out loud with Miss Bingley's brother sitting next to him.

"Poor Caroline," mumbled Bingley, "she never has any fun." The table erupted with unrestrained laughter while Bingley continued to shovel food into his mouth.

Once they had settled down Darcy spoke directly to Bingley, "Charles, I have news to import to you concerning my cousin that will amaze and astound you." He was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud as he watched Bingley's eyes go wide. "Are you up to this?" Darcy spared a quick glance at Peter who looked on with interest and with a smile playing on his lips. "Richard" he paused dramatically, "is getting married."

The silence that greeted this announcement was deafening. Bingley blinked several times trying to process this information, "that reprobate is getting married?"

"Please, Bingley," Richard protested "if you must call me names I prefer scalawag or studmuffin."

"Scalawag or studmuffin," Bingley shouted, "how dare you get married before we do? Darcy and I have been scouring the country for six years looking for our brides and now you say you will be married? And who on earth would have you? It must be an escapee from some insane asylum."

Richard grinned broadly, "thank you for your kind wishes, Bingley. Much appreciated."

Bingley sighed heavily, "just don't sire too many studmuffins. One's quite enough. So, who's the lucky lady?"

"Miss Anne de Bourgh."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes. She been stalking me for years. I finally allowed her to catch me."

"What's a studmuffin?" Peter asked.

The table once more erupted in laughter.

Darcy left Richard steaming in a bath with a promise that they would go shooting that afternoon. As the three remaining men rode into Meryton each prayed to meet with a charming lady whom they hoped to thank for a most charming evening spent in their company. Alas, it was not to be. Meryton was abustle with men going about their business but there were few women to be seen.

The road to Longbourn was tree-lined on one side with open fields on the other. The sun was bright upon the earth and it was good to be alive on such a beautiful summer's day. There was little conversation between the three men as they walked along for each seemed to be deep in thought. When Darcy finally broke the silence his companions turned startled looks at him. "Richard says that the reason to marry is to have a companion to help you through life. I never thought of it that way."

"I think," said Peter, "that your cousin has the right of it. It certainly isn't for sex...or shouldn't be...as some of my school friends have found to their dismay. Two of them married pretty faces, then discovered that they were unable to have a sensible conversation that didn't involve the latest fashions. One of them has taken a mistress. How the other manages to keep his sanity is anyone's guess. He never speaks of it, but I know after five minutes in her company I start yawning."

"I would never take a mistress," Bingley avowed.

"Don't be too sure," Peter replied. "No one knows how they will react to unhappiness."

Bingley turned to Darcy, "you would never take a mistress, would you?"

Darcy looked at his old friend, so wide-eyed and innocent, "I'd hate to think I would ever break my marriage vows, Bingley, but Peter has a point. Every choice we make has to be looked at with a thought to the future. Think of all the times you've been enamored of a young lady whom you found boring within a week."

"But I didn't marry her," Bingley replied defensively.

"And have you had any regrets?"

"No! Never."

"Then you made the right decision. All I'm saying is that life is full of choices and marriage is the toughest choice we'll ever make. It has no room for error."

"And has Richard made the right choice?"

"Anne loves Richard for all his imperfections and not despite them. Yes, they will be very happy together."

"You sound almost envious," Peter said.

"Yes, I believe I am, just a little," was all Darcy replied as they had approached Longbourn and could hear laughter beyond the gates. Darcy's heart had quickened in expectation of seeing Elizabeth again. His disappointment was keenly felt when she was nowhere to be seen. Bingley and Peter, however, were delighted to see both Jane and Charlotte seated side by side on a nearby stone bench and they made a beeline toward the ladies where they made themselves immediately agreeable.

Left alone Darcy searched the large garden, then stared at the house willing Elizabeth to appear. It took a good five minutes before she heard his heart calling, but at last she walked out into the sun and saw him. She stopped and stared at him in silence. He was shocked at her appearance. Her beautiful eyes already so dark were heavily shadowed and red-rimmed. Her distress was unendurable, "Lizzie", he murmured. His use of her name in such a familiar way shocked him and he was grateful that she hadn't seemed to notice it or if she had, did not mention it. He offered his arm and she took it, "will you show me your world, Miss Elizabeth?" At her nod, they walked slowly back through the gates of Longbourn heedless of the two couples who regarded them curiously, nor of the woman at the window who was clapping her hands with a gleeful smile on her chubby face.

When Peter entered the dining room he found Bingley and his sister sitting at opposite ends of the table, the tension between them palpable. "Now what?" he wondered. He took a seat near Bingley thinking that his friend had the patience of a saint. He had yet to spend any time in the company of Caroline when she wasn't in a foul mood. He had never seen two siblings who were more unalike. Bingley so blond and affable, Caroline so dark and lacking in warmth. Even the blond Louisa Hurst who he didn't know very well exhibited a warmth towards her brother and after hearing the Hursts laughing in the privacy of their rooms, Peter suspected that Louisa enjoyed the marriage bed. He had a hard time trying to envision Caroline enjoying anything. How had she come to be part of this family? Was there a bar sinister hidden in their coat of arms? The thought brought a smile to his lips.

Having had a late night, the Hursts had opted for some rolls and coffee to break their fast and did not descend the stairs until the lunch bell rang out. The moment they entered the dining room they felt the tension in the air. Hurst eyed his sister-in-law with curiosity. He didn't have to wonder if she had looked in the mirror that morning; by Louisa's reckoning, she spent at least two hours a day doing just that. But had she taken a long look as Louisa had directed her? And if she had, what had she seen? Tall, thin, and if he wanted to be fair, not an unhandsome woman. It was only her surly disposition which made her appear so ugly at times. His eyes moved to his wife and wondered what other men thought of her. Once more, to be fair, he supposed that Louisa was no ravishing creature; her features were pleasant, eyes kind. It was only when she was laughing that her true beauty showed through. Unfortunately, having Caroline around most of the time gave Louisa few chances to show this side of herself; it was only in the bedroom that Hurst truly knew his wife. It was a shame that the course Caroline had set for herself would never lead to the marriage bed. She would never know the great pleasure she could bestow on a man nor the ecstasy of submitting to his body. Poor Caroline. What a waste.

Richard was so used to the cold air that permeated any room that Caroline inhabited he paid little attention to the silence of the room as he took his seat for he was in an excellent mood. The cause of his discomfort had been alleviated; he would soon be renamed General Fitzwilliam...how nice that sounded...and he was a man deep in love, would soon be married and saw nothing but happiness ahead of him. "Where's Darcy?" he asked.

"I am not your cousin's keeper!" Bingley responded, grimly.

Richard blinked in surprise and glanced at Peter who returned his look with an arched brow but remained silent. "My dear Mr. Bingley, I left you and Mr. Postlewaite in charge of my beloved cousin. Have you gone and lost him?"

All eyes turned to Bingley waiting for his response. After a moment's hesitation, Bingley replied, "I believe your cousin is indeed lost, but have no fear, Colonel Fitzwilliam, for he was in the company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and from what I saw, she will take very good care of him."

The stem of Caroline's wine glass snapped, blood red staining the bodice of her orange silk. It looked to her guests as if she had been stabbed in the heart. Her face ashen she stood and fled the room. After a moment, Louisa followed her sister. The rest of the guests settled down to enjoy their excellent lunch.