After the harsh words Elizabeth spewed at her mother she spent an hour in tears and self-recrimination thoroughly ashamed at herself. Her unhappiness was now mixed with guilt for she really shouldn't have visited her anger on her mother for it was much too late for that. Lydia was lost to her family and it was doubtful that her father would ever allow her to return to Longbourn. It served no purpose to continually berate her mother whose lack of understanding made any attempt to reason with her simply a waste of breath. She had known all her life that her mother was incapable of rational thought but that was no excuse. It was her own misery that had caused her to lash out and it was inexcusable. She had given her heart away to a man who might have feelings for her...might even love her...but there were too many impediments to a happy outcome. She was a nobody with no money and no title, but that paled in comparison with Lydia's renunciation of respectability. There was no way Darcy could ignore this egregious fall from grace and she felt her heart break knowing this was a truth that she would have to live with.

By the time her tears had dried she was exhausted and horrified at her reflection in the mirror. She had allowed her temper to get away from her not once but twice. First she had directed such savage remarks at Lydia and now to her mother. She no longer recognized herself...she had become an unrecognizable virago...sullen and ugly. In her despair she told herself that Darcy would not likely be calling on her in the near future if ever again and that was for the best for nothing good could come of it. Besides, if he saw her in this condition he'd surely run for his life. He didn't need another grim and glum female in his life. One Caroline Bingley in his life was enough. This thought might have given her a laugh a few weeks ago but not now...not after seeing Miss Bingley the night before. The thought of him married to such a woman only filled her with more sorrow. Caroline Bingley would never make him happy and she did want him to be happy because she, Elizabeth Olivia Bennet, did love him so. Once more she dissolved into bitter tears.

When she heard the laughter coming from the garden below she looked down and recognized Mr. Bingley and Mr. Postlewaite sitting with Jane and Charlotte. There was no sign of Mr. Darcy. He was no doubt back at Netherfield ruing his friendly overtures the night before. So be it! She'd been wallowing in self pity long enough. It was time to stop this nonsense. She would stop mooning after Mr. Darcy and get on with her life. After splashing cold water on her face in a vain attempt to repair the damage her tears had caused she decided that she had two options open to her. She could crawl into bed and sleep away her grief...which might be accomplished in no more than a few months... or head for Oakham Mt. and seek comfort with her old friend, a giant oak which had been witness to the human condition for more than two centuries.

She picked up a small volume of sonnets and slipped down the stairs quietly and opened the door. The bright morning nearly blinded her and she stood for a moment trying to adjust her swollen eyes to the glare of light. When a tall shadow invaded the light she couldn't make out who it was until she heard his voice murmur her name so softly it seemed more like a prayer. She had been suffering so many highs and lows since she had first laid eyes on this man that she felt dizzy and could hardly believe her senses. When he offered her his arm she took it automatically though she could not comprehend what was happening.

She kept her head lowered not wishing to look into his eyes nor for him to see the havoc the last twelve hours had wrought. As they left Longbourn behind, Elizabeth said not a word but held tight to Darcy's arm so he too remained silent and did not press her to speak but was content to lend her comfort with his presence. At length she steered Darcy off the main road and they began to make their way up a gentle slope still not speaking. When they reached the stile he helped her up then jumped down and started to reach for her hand but changed his mind. For the first time since leaving Longbourn he found himself staring into those magnificent eyes as she regarded him with such sadness he felt his heart would break for her.

His hands slid around her waist and lifted her before gently lowering her so that she faced him just inches away. He watched her carefully waiting for a sign of anger at his audacious move but there was none that he could see. She moved away from him and continued up the slope but not before he saw her mouth twitch in amusement. Once they gained a small plateau Elizabeth walked to the large oak tree then leaned back against the trunk and still not looking at him directly spoke softly, "Will you tell me about George Wickham?"

Darcy had fully expected to bring up the subject of George Wickham eventually but the suddenness of the query caught him off guard. He did what he usually did when he was uneasy or was about to lie. He was a terrible liar and refrained from the practice as much as possible but in this case he felt that he had to tell her about George Wickham without divulging the sorry truth. He began to twist his pinky ring. "I fear, Miss Bennet," he managed at last, "that the news might not be what you'd like to hear. There's a good chance that he's left the country."

Into the silence that greeted this statement Elizabeth regarded Darcy in shock, "Why would you think that, Mr. Darcy?"

"He's been talking about doing just that for years, Miss Bennet. He was born on the Darcy estate as the son of our much respected steward and being so close in age as myself had many advantages denied the other young men living at Pemberley. My father was very fond of him and we became good friends." Darcy hesitated for a moment feeling that familiar sadness wash over him. "There came a time when he understood the vast chasm that separated us; I was destined to become the master of Pemberley...and he would always be the son of Pemberley's steward. By then he was being educated at Cambridge but it didn't seem to matter to him. His low station gnawed at him and made him resentful; in his own mind he could never rise above his low birth."

"But my uncle Gardiner was born low and he has become prosperous. With all the advantages Mr. Wickham got from his education and connection with your family he could have done very well."

Darcy shrugged, "Mr. Bingley's father did the same. As stringent as our English law is, hard work can overcome low birth. But Wickham grew resentful and spoke of emigrating to the Americas where he would be treated as an equal. Mr. Bingley who is one of my closest friends, is the son of a tradesman. When he came to Cambridge he really felt he didn't belong. For centuries it's been drilled into what society labeled the lower classes, that they should never try to rise above their station. Bingley was very conscious of these rules until he began to rub shoulders with men who came from all walks of life who cared nothing about his station but only if he was smart enough to join their study groups."

Elizabeth laughed, "and was he?"

"Top ten percent of his class. In his last year the president of the chess club."

"And now a gentleman farmer."

Darcy nodded, "Charles is everything Wickham could have been."

But why do you think that Mr. Wickham would choose this particular time to leave? And do you think he took my sister with him?"

"Let me be clear, Miss Bennet, it's all supposition on my part. I have no idea where George Wickham is. But it occurred to me that if he doesn't want to be found, surely leaving the country would serve that purpose. If he's followed his usual patterns, he's probably run up all kinds of debt including here in Meryton and he must know that your sister is not without friends."

She felt like telling Darcy just how wrong he was regarding Lydia's friends. Her father had cut her off and she had not heard Lydia's name mentioned by her remaining sisters for several days. Elizabeth found her despicable and as for her mother, she had proved to be a terrible friend of her youngest daughter.

Elizabeth regarded Darcy with interest. He was obviously ill at ease but she couldn't quite make out what was causing his disquiet. She didn't believe for a moment that Wickham had stolen Lydia away in the dark of night and she found it impossible to believe that Darcy thought so either. So why this story? To offer her comfort? "Where would he get the money for passage?" she asked at last.

Darcy hoped he wasn't sweating for he had grown distinctly uncomfortable. This woman he loved had a way of looking at him that pierced his soul. What on earth had made him think that he could offer a simple explanation of why she would never again see Wickham and that would be the end of it. Besides, she wasn't interested in Wickham; she wanted to know where her sister was.

"I gave him three thousand pounds in lieu of a living my father had promised him. That would give him a good start."

Elizabeth was about to ask him why, if Wickham had three thousand pounds, Lydia had arrived at the Gardiners half-starved and wearing a filthy muslin dress but after a moment's consideration, changed her mind. It really didn't matter whether Wickham had the money for passage to the new world. She could not believe that Lydia was any part of Wickham's plans and if that was true, where was Lydia? The answer came quickly for it had been on her mind from the moment her youngest sister had fled in the night. Her worst fears were being realized for she was now certain that Lydia had entered the underbelly of London society and Darcy knew it or at least suspected it.

She composed herself with resignation. This was not a topic she could discuss with Fitzwilliam Darcy. Moving any closer to the subject could only bring mortification to both of them. She groped for a change of subject. "I understand that your sister and cousin will be joining you at Netherfield. I look forward to seeing them again. They both wrote to me after I left Rosing's Park."

Darcy ran his hands through his curls once more, this time in relief now that he was done with his lies. "Miss Bennet, you have a most distracting way of changing subjects."

"And you, Mr. Darcy, have a distracting way of examining the floor when at a dance."

Oh, she was quick! "Richard and Charles have advised me that I also find sconces on walls have a particular fascination for me."

Elizabeth smiled at their exchange, "and how is Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

"Richard is walking on air though he insists his feet are planted firmly on earth. He is to be married."

Elizabeth's smile faded thinking of Anne, "who's the lucky lady?"

"Miss Anne de Bourgh"

For the first time since he had arrived in Hertfordshire Darcy finally saw what he had so sorely missed. Elizabeth's smile broke bright and clear in a genuine smile, "oh, I'm so glad for Anne. She loves him so very much. Oh, I'm so happy for her! Finally some good news."

"Has it been hard for you?"

She threw him a wry smile "I have been in better spirits and it shows. If I remember correctly, the last time I enjoyed myself, I was about to win an argument concerning the merits of poetry."

"You were dressed in the color of sunbeams and you would not have won the argument. Translating poetry into prose is pure blasphemy."

She supposed it was time to lower her eyes in the accepted manner of a blushing maiden but she could not.. She continued to regard him with a soft smile playing on her lips. "Dressed in sunbeams, Mr. Darcy? How very poetical."

He took a step toward her, "are you teasing me, Miss Bennet?"

"I believe I am, Mr. Darcy. Just a little. Do you mind terribly?"

"My shoulders are broad. But may I ask why you are carrying a book of sonnets, Miss Bennet?"

"A lapse in good judgment, perhaps?"

He took another step towards her watching her closely waiting for a sign of withdrawal. She too watched him nearing her and felt her heart quicken. He leaned towards her and placed his hands against the tree on either side of her. When she remained steadfastly silent but continued to look into his eyes he slowly leaned closer to her until his forehead rested again her, "Lizzie," he sighed.

She felt all the rules of propriety slip away as she reached her hand up and laid it lightly against the side of face, "yes William?"

He laid his hand over hers and held it tight. With his other hand he raised her face so he could look into those mesmerizing eyes that so enchanted him. His kiss was as soft and gentle as he could make it, not wanting to frighten her with his boldness. When he felt her hand move up and around his neck his hold on her tightened and his kiss deepened. Her response to him was instant. He could feel her desire meet his in a passion so intense he knew it was on the brink of getting completely out of control. With all the strength he could muster he pulled his mouth from hers still holding her tight. His breath was ragged as was hers. Once more he leaned his forehead against hers and sighed her name, "you have undone me," he added, before kissing her once more. Their second kiss was as intense as the first. Elizabeth felt that she had slipped into another worldly plane where rational thought was unknown. All she knew was him, the other part of her she'd been waiting for all her life. She wanted to invade his body and soul and stay there for the rest of her life. When he finally released her mouth she felt bereft and she cried out in protest. He held her tightly, hushing her with gentle kisses less passionate and more playful as they nipped and nibbled at each other mostly in silence, at other moments murmuring each other's name. There was no other world beyond their world and the touch and taste of each other.

It was the distant sound of the church bells tolling out the time that brought them both to their senses. They pulled apart still unable to take their eyes off each other, "I must go," she said.

"I know, but I don't want you to go."

"You can't have everything you want, Mr. Darcy," she managed. The reward she received for this pert remark was a smile so sweet and a look so dark she felt her face grow hot, "you must not look at me that way, Mr. Darcy. I will not have it."

"Miss Bennet, you cannot order me around until we are married...or at least until we are engaged."

Tears lying so close to the surface had been her constant companion since leaving Rosing's Park and now threatened to rise again but not in what should have been joy. "Have you forgotten about my sister? I would not have my family bring disgrace on yours."

"Which family is that, Elizabeth? Richard or Anne? Georgie? You should have seen Lady Catherine defend you against your cousin, the pernicious pastor."

Despite herself she couldn't help smiling, "tell me."

"I honestly don't remember all his words, but when she was finished with him his knees buckled and he ended up kneeling on the floor. If my family hadn't been so concerned over you..." Darcy looked at her pointedly..."we would have laughed at the spectacle...especially when Lady Catherine berated him for praying in the breakfast room. She also instructed him to spend at least fifteen minutes each day in rational thought. So you see my love, there is no impediment to our marriage." He marked his words with a kiss that left her shaking. "You will marry me Lizzie. I knew I loved you while we were still at Rosing's Park...maybe even at the theatre where I first saw you. I will not go back to Pemberley without you."

"I first saw you at the theatre. You came in with Georgiana and I thought you the handsomest man I had ever seen."

Darcy's eyes widened in surprise, then once more tightened his grip on her, "did you think I didn't notice the young lady dressed in lilac who was leering at me behind her fan?", he whispered, then stopped her protestations with a deep impassioned kiss. They would be married and he knew he had been blessed.

Elizabeth left Darcy at the lip of the plateau as she skipped down the slope. At the stile she climbed the three steps to the top then turned and looked back at him. He stood tall and rock solid staring down at her and she felt an aching desire to throw caution to the wind and return to his embrace. She now belonged to him body and soul and her separation from him was so painful she could not yet feel the elation that comes with loving and being loved. It was all so new, this need for another human being, that her heart felt bereft without being able to reach out and touch him. How she would survive until she next saw him and felt his arms holding her tight against his body feeling his desire rise to meet her own threatened her sanity. She turned and leaped off the stile and hurried along refusing to look back for fear she would never reach Longbourn if she looked upon him once more. She had promised to meet him on Oakham Mt. shortly after dawn on the morrow if he assured her that he would behave in a gentlemanly fashion and helped her to behave as a properly brought up young woman should. She grinned at the thought. They should have a lot of fun trying not to crack and shatter all the rules of propriety. Oh, how she loved him! "William," her heart cried, "William."

When she rounded the bend in the path she slowed to a walk and tried to compose herself for the questions that were sure to follow her belated return to Longbourn. They had agreed that their understanding would be kept to themselves at least for a few days, until they could present themselves with a semblance of decorum. It would not do to throw themselves at each other in company. What would the neighbors think? Elizabeth let out a shout of pure joy. She was beyond caring what the the neighbors thought. He loved her and her life was changed forever.

When she entered the dining room fifteen minutes late for lunch her mother immediately began her examination, "so what happened?"

"Happened where?"

"With Mr. Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes!," Mrs. Bennet cried, impatiently. I saw you two leave the garden together. I want to know what happened."

Elizabeth adopted a thoughtful gaze aimed at the ceiling, "He said it was a beautiful day and I agreed before I left him at the turn-off to Oakham Mt. Then, I suppose, he continued on to wherever he was going."

Mrs. Bennet face reflected her anger and disappointment. "And did you not encourage him to walk to Oakham with you?"

"Why on earth would I do that? Besides, have you looked at me lately? I look like death warmed over. I didn't want to frighten the poor man."

"But I thought...I thought..."

"You think too much, Mother. And now if you'll forgive me, I'm going to my room and catch up on sleep." Elizabeth loaded her plate with meat, cheese, rolls and fruit. She planned to sit at her window and stare in the direction of Netherfield and eat to her heart's content. She couldn't imagine a more pleasant way to spend a lazy afternoon than to eat and think of the future with the man she loved.

When Darcy arrived back at Netherfield he was starving and happier than he had been in years. He had won his bride and planned to live happily ever after. He suspected that he must be wearing a silly smile on his face because he felt silly with happiness, something he had long ago given up ever feeling. He had found the perfect woman; clever, witty and not at all shy of him. And the way she had of teasing him made his heart soar with joy to know he had finally met his match. The thought of spending hours in her company engaged in intelligent conversation...he couldn't wait to introduce her to the Pemberley library, to the great cities of Europe...the first would be Paris...to the Grecian Isles where she she could at last walk barefoot along the sea. He loped up the steps of Netherfield feeling like a love-sick child and not at all ashamed of his giddy dreams. "Elizabeth" his heart shouted, "Elizabeth!" When the butler addressed him he stared at him blankly until the information that the gentlemen were still in the dining room had to be repeated.

He tried valiantly to compose himself when he entered the dining room and met the curious looks of his friends, "not a word out of one of you," he growled.

Richard and Bingley who knew Darcy better than most, exchanged a look "This isn't fair," mumbled Bingley.

"What's new, Cousin," Richard asked with a smirk.

Darcy attempted a glare but failed miserably. "I have nothing to say."

"You were sorely missed at Longbourn," Peter dared.

"And," added Hurst, "your hostess missed you too, Darcy. I might say that she was inconsolable and left the table much disturbed."

"I will not be teased," replied Darcy." The minute the words left his mouth he couldn't contain a broad grin belying his sentiment remembering Lizzie and her sweet teasing.

Bingley regarded his friend with a gloomy stare, "this isn't fair," he repeated. "First a scalawag, now a confirmed bachelor. What is the world coming to?"

Darcy felt his face flush as the room exploded in amusement at his expense.

In Caroline Bingley's room there was no laughter, only anger and tears as Louisa tried to console her sister. "Please, Carrie, you'll only make yourself sick."

"Her sister is nothing but a whore!" Caroline raged.

"Dear heavens, Carrie! Lower your voice! You know no such thing."

Caroline continued to pace, "have you heard the latest gossip? They say that the local prostitute disappeared the same night Miss Lydia Bennet did. You can't tell me that they're not together. I must tell Darcy before it's too late. He will thank me for it."

Louisa's heart sank. Her sister was bent on destroying herself. "I would suggest you get drunk and forget talking to Darcy about anything. We don't know yet what went on between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet but if she is his choice, he will never forgive you if you tell him his future sister-in-law is a whore. And our brother will never forgive you either."

Caroline stopped her pacing, deep in thought, then turned to Louisa, "yes, I forgot about Charles. Perhaps you're right, Sister."

Louisa eyed her sister with suspicion. It had been too easy to rein in Caroline's anger. She was up to something. Louisa wondered if it was time to destroy Caroline and all her delusions. Or...let her self destruct. She was so tired of handling Caroline; so tired of keeping secrets from her husband; just plain tired. And so was her husband. Hurst had the patience of a saint...as unsaintly as he could be...but one day he was going to blow. Despite the fact that both families occupied two different residences, Caroline spent as much time at the Hurst home as she did in her own and insisted that Louisa join her on her frequent shopping expeditions and her morning visits to the few friends she had. Hurst's complaints had lately become more frequent and volatile. She knew a time was coming when she'd have to sever relations with her sister and she wasn't sure she was up to it. They went back a long way. She had been more mother than sister to Caroline after their mother's death, continuing the delusional words of comfort their mother had been filling Caroline's head for years. Now, Louisa's guilt ran deep offering as her only excuse their youth. Louisa was eleven years old and Caroline barely eight when their mother had died so tragically.

She remembered the whispered fairy tales their mother had spun in the darkness of night. Caroline's real father was a nobleman who would one day take her to live in his castle and dress her in silks and satins. She would be rich beyond her wildest dreams and one day a handsome prince would marry her and they would live happily after. The story would never vary and it wasn't long before Louisa could recite the oft-told tale. Though she never forgot the anger and tears, the terrible accusations, the shunning by the other villagers and the abrupt move to Ellesmere it took many years before Louisa understood the ways of man and woman and how it was possible for a woman to give birth to a child who's father was unknown to her other children.

Of course she had no proof of her suspicions, only surmise. Their father had treated Caroline fairly in his will; both daughters had received twenty thousand pounds. The bulk of his estate went to his son, Charles, with a stipulation that each daughter receive an allowance until their marriages. There was no set amount set forth in the will, but Charles was generous to a fault and Louisa loved and respected her brother for his goodness. She was determined that Charles would find his happiness and if it meant destroying Caroline, she would do it. There might not be proof of her unnatural birth but one whisper in Town would be enough to break Caroline.

The following morning Elizabth bolted out of her bed and dressed quickly. By the time she reached the turn-off to Oakham Mt. she was out of breath and had to stop for a moment before she started up the slope and didn't look up for the the next few minutes. When she did, she saw Darcy leaning against the stile watching her. She stopped again waiting for him to come to her but he remained as he was, simply watching her. She tilted her head in question but he still didn't respond.

She continued trudging up the slope until she was near enough that he could reach out and take both her hands in his. He pulled her gently towards him and placed her hands around his neck and kissed her roughly, "you kept me waiting," he growled.

"You might have come down to help me," she protested.

"And deprive me of the pleasure of looking at you? No, my love. I have few foibles but you will be on the top of the list. I love looking at you knowing that you belong to me."

"And do you belong to me?"

"For the rest of our lives, Lizzie, and beyond."

At his quick response she finally felt that surge of happiness that she'd been waiting for. Since the day before she had seemed to be floating on a different plane where she couldn't tell the difference between a dream state and reality. His words and kiss ended the demons which had haunted her since he had first declared himself. "I love you so," she whispered. His kiss left her in no doubt that he loved too.

Later that afternoon Lady Catherine arrived with her daughter Anne and niece, Georgiana Darcy. She was in a wonderful mood having spent a delightful time spending money and reacquainting herself with old friends. She felt renewed and deliriously happy for Anne. It seemed after all the years of unhappiness life had changed for both of them in ways she could hardly have contemplated a year before. There had been a time when to see her daughter jump from the carriage and literally throw herself at her intended would have given her a spell of the vapors but seeing the joy on Richard's face as he swung Anne around brought tears to her eyes. Oh, life was good!

Georgie stepped down quickly laughing merrily still watching her cousins cavorting unashamedly where all could see their joy. Darcy hugged her, "and how is my favorite sister?"

"Very well, Brother. Very well, indeed."

Darcy took Lady Catherine's hand and helped her descend the carriage with a little more decorum, "welcome to Netherfield, Aunt."

Bingley greeted Georgie with a broad smile and waited patiently to be introduced to the formidable Lady Catherine of whom he had heard so much, none of it good. Lady Catherine sensed his disquiet and immediately put him at ease, "thank you so much for your kind invitation, Mr. Bingley. I've heard so much about you from my nephew and niece. I'm delighted to meet you at last.

Bingley relaxed and lapsed into his usual affable self. "I'm delighted to meet you at long last, Lady Catherine. Do allow me to escort you," he said and offered his arm. As they began to walk up the steps to Netherfield Lady Catherine looked up to see a tall, dark woman dressed in finery more suited for a ball. She could hardly credit her eyes. The woman was dressed in heavy silk topped with a plumed hat of crushed velvet. She had once heard Darcy refer to Bingley's sister as the orange ogre. So this had to be be Miss Caroline Bingley. Whether an ogre, Lady Catherine did not know, but orange, she certainly was. Long years of learning to contain her laughter at the ridiculous helped her not to break out in giggles...lately she had been spending a lot of time with Georgie...but she was hard-pressed. Caroline's dress was positively preposterous on a sunny afternoon in June. To make the situation more comical...at least to Lady Catherine's distorted sense of humor...Caroline held herself as regally as a queen. Worse was to come.

"Welcome to Netherfield, Lady Catherine. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to receive you. Absolutely enchanted to meet dear Mr. Darcy's aunt at long last."

Lady Catherine was mesmerized by the apparition confronting her, but her pronunciation was so stilted and artificial sounding she thought perhaps that Caroline had some kind of speech impediment.

"The pleasure is all mine," Lady Catherine responded. And indeed it was. Getting out of the summer stink of London for a few a weeks would be a wonderful change, but having such a hostess would certainly add to her entertainment and she was perfectly happy in her expectations.