Darcy had always imagined that love was something ethereal, bright and sunny, but he was finding the emotion less cheerful. If death was the worst thing that could happen to men, surely love came in a close second. Hardly ten minutes had elapsed since he'd bid her farewell at Longbourn and already his sense of loss was acute. He felt only a gnawing pain to complete himself. He needed to make a public commitment to her. He desired Elizabeth's presence in his life so much that he ached when he couldn't see and touch her. His carnal desire for her had not waned, for he wanted her in his bed to give and take pleasure that only true lovers can fulfill but his desires had altered into something much more complex and more the source of his pain. Now his mind was filled with images of Elizabeth sharing a meal with him, of sitting close to her as they read together, of long walks through the myriads of paths that criss-crossed the forests surrounding Pemberley. He imagined that he could hear her laughter echoing through the halls of their home beckoning him to come to her much like the sirens of the sea who lured their prey with songs of enchantment. His stomach was in a constant roil and his mind seemed to be flitting from one subject to another and never making any sense. Being in love was proving more difficult than he had ever imagined. He had never felt more alive but sincerely hoped he might survive the experience with some of his dignity intact.

During the slow passing through Meryton he made what he thought was an inspired decision. He would make a quick trip to Town and start the process of obtaining a special license. Anne and Georgie wanted to reacquaint themselves with Elizabeth and it would much easier without an ardent lover hovering in the background. He knew that Elizabeth would probably want to marry in the Meryton church but being a man who liked to be prepared for any contingency, a special license would allow his marriage to take place in any shire and at any time without banns needing to be published. He saw no reason to delay their marriage longer than propriety demanded. In his fevered brain that meant no more than four weeks. He knew full well that Mrs. Bennet would probably have a conniption fit when they announced their wedding to take place so soon but he didn't care and he knew that Elizabeth didn't care either. She was as anxious to start their lives together as he was. Never having been in love before, his passion for her threatened to overwhelm both of them and he could not...would not betray her trust in him. They must be married! The thought of wasting four or five months listening to Mrs. Bennet talking about satin and laces was too awful to contemplate and he would not have it.

Then he would have to speak to his solicitor. His property was so extensive that just gathering all the necessary papers and completing the marriage settlement might take a month at least.

And last, and far from least, there was the matter of an engagement gift. He wanted something special and had settled on a ring. Amethyst, the color of his true love's eyes, was what he wanted. His first gift to her would not come from the Darcy vaults but from his own heart and would be the beginning of their own history together. He wanted Elizabeth to know that she meant the world to him.

When they finally reached Netherfield he called for his carriage to be readied then immediately changed his mind. "No, ready my horse. No wait a minute! Ready my carriage. No, let me think for a minute."

Lady Catherine had never seen Darcy in love and it was a stunning revelation. He'd always appeared to her as a man devoid of deep emotion. At Kent he hadn't been able to tear his eyes from Elizabeth though he had successfully hidden his thoughts. To the unobservant he might have been a detached observer studying an insect...Mr. Collins came to mind. With long-suffering patience she stood by waiting for her nephew to make up his mind. Once he settled on the carriage in case Bingley or Peter were interested in a quick overnight trip to Town, she allowed, "I think perhaps you've been too long in the company of Mr. Bingley, Nephew."

"Pardon?"

She took his arm, "I just hope you remember where your house is."

"My house?"

Lady Catherine sighed, "Oh, never mind, just get me up those steps."

With great patience he did just that before he was free to chase through the house looking for his host.

He found Georgie and Bingley at a game of chess in the library with Peter as an amused observer. As a one time president of the chess club at Cambridge, Bingley wasn't doing too well. A quick glance at the board showed a loss of a queen, two rooks and a knight. Georgie was missing a couple of pawns and a rook. Darcy watched in disbelief as Bingley's next move put his bishop in harm's way.

Georgie giggled and took the the bishop, "checkmate! I must say, Mr. Bingley," she added with a straight face, " that your lessons have improved my game considerably."

When he didn't respond but continued to stare at the board, Peter leaned down, "Charles, the game is over. You lost."

"Did I? Well, good. Good!"

Georgie shook her head and stood to embrace Darcy, "how did it go?," she whispered.

"My aunt is an angel. She does not object," he whispered back. "And Mrs. Bennet wasn't too silly." The joy on his sister's face added to his happiness. "I'm off to Town for a quick trip. Elizabeth expects you and Anne to accompany her on a long walk tomorrow."

"Oh brother, I'm so happy for you. Will you think me too ridiculous when I tell you how I keep thinking of Christmas at Pemberley? We'll be a real family again."

"Think all you want about St. Nicholas. I prefer to think of St. Michaelmas. I've always wanted to be married in September."

Georgie threw her head back and laughed in pure joy, "really? I never knew."

Bingley jumped at the idea of a trip to town, "just what I need," he muttered. "Perhaps I can find a book on the use of nightshade."

Darcy glanced at Peter who shrugged, "I'll stay here and keep company with Richard when Miss De Bourgh is otherwise engaged. It will give you two a chance to have a nice talk," he added with a wry smile.

Within a half-hour of arriving back at Netherfield their carriage had moved through Meryton and had gained the road to London. Darcy immediately settled back and allowed his mind to drift back to Elizabeth and how soon they could be married, unaware of the smug smile on his face.

Bingley took it for ten minutes before he exploded, "would you please do me the honor of wiping that smirk off your face?"

Startled, Darcy eyed his friend with amusement, "gentlemen don't smirk."

"Then you are no gentleman!"

Darcy laughed hardily, "you see before you a very happy man, Bingley, and I'll smirk all I want."

"So you are to be married." It was a statement.

Darcy nodded, "I am to be married. And you? By the way you embarrassed yourself at the game board I assume you are in love too. How does your courtship go? I must say I'm surprised that you've left the field to Peter." He expected Bingley to protest loudly at his teasing remark but there was no response. "What is it, Charles? Have you been thinking again?"

"Trying to but my thoughts are as muddled as one of my letters."

"Without the ink blots, I hope."

Bingley shook his head, ignoring the sally, "I have no idea what's rolling around in my head. For that matter, I begin to doubt there's anything in my head. Darce, I swear I'm losing my mind."

"Come now, Charles, two months ago you thought you were dying, now you think you're losing your mind. I swear I can't keep up with you. If you love Miss Bennet, marry her and be done with it."

Bingley stared at his friend in disbelief, "didn't you hear anything Caroline said to your aunt last night? She referred to the inhabitants as barbarians! And she came dangerously close to talking about Miss Lydia Bennet with Georgie sitting at the table."

"I heard. I also heard you make your thoughts very clear to her last night. She could not misunderstand your meaning."

"Oh really? You think I put her in her place, do you?"

Darcy dismissed the sarcasm . "I thought you handled her very well. It would greatly surprise me if she stays at Netherfield much longer. She has to know that there is nothing here for her unless she turns her attention to Peter and I suspect she'd get short shrift from your friend."

"Forgive me, Darce, but you don't know what you're talking about. You've never had to deal with Caroline. When she gets into one of her moods you can just walk away. I, on the other hand, end up with indigestion before I've had my first slice of toast. You always have your life under complete control. You always set a course and nothing stands in your way. All I ever do is fumble and stumble and now I'm in such a mess I don't know what I'm going to do. How can I possibly ask Jane Bennet to marry me when my own sister refers to Jane's younger sister as that little whore?"

The words and the pained expression on his old friend's face shocked Darcy into momentary silence. "When did she say this?" he asked quietly.

"This morning. She asked me if I was going to visit the sister of that little..."

"No need to repeat the word, Charles. I understand perfectly."

"The situation is intolerable. She's my sister and I love her...at least I thought I did. Now I'm beginning to think that my affection is just a habit from childhood. How can I love a woman who is so cruel and heartless. What does it say about me?"

"It says you are a decent man, and my good friend. But you have to speak plainly to her or, to paraphrase Blake, you'll surely water your anger with fears, night and morning with your tears."

Bingley rolled his eyes, "oh for heaven's sake, Darcy. Speak prose. You know I'm like a thick plank when it comes to poetry."

Darcy laughed despite himself, thinking of how Elizabeth liked to tease him about his habit of spouting poetry. She'd gone so far as to suggest that he should have married her sister, Mary. Between Mary's homilies and his poetry, they would be the most sought after couple in London society. "It means, don't let your anger fester, Charles. Make it so perfectly clear how you feel about Miss Bennet that only the most obtuse individual would fail to understand your meaning."

"Obtuse would certainly describe Caroline. And if she doesn't listen to reason?"

"Then you will have to make a choice that will change your life forever. It will be up to you to determine where your happiness lies. You may think that I always set a course and never let anything stand in my way, but I've had to battle my own demons. It's been ingrained in me since childhood that my family always comes first. I was expected to marry for wealth. It was bad enough that I refused to marry Anne, but to choose a country girl who has no money or title...I feared a rift with my family. Once married, a man must not suffer divided loyalties. He must owe his wife and children his complete allegiance. That is a rule I hold inviolate. I knew that if my family couldn't accept my choice, there would be an estrangement that might never be healed. That was a terrifying thought."

"And have they accepted it?"

"It appears so. As a matter of courtesy and respect I asked my aunt for her approval and she granted it to me. This will go a long way with the rest of my relatives, but in any event, it's my life and no one can live my life for me, Charles. I can't conceive of a life without Elizabeth by my side. I've waited too long for her and I'd be a damned fool to forsake her because my family wanted me to marry money. I don't need any more money, but I need Elizabeth."

"And are you happy, Will"

"When I'm not frightened to death of my future wife, yes I am."

Bingley let out a hoot, "Will Darcy frightened? Of little Miss Elizabeth?"

Darcy grinned at his friend's response, "little Miss Elizabeth is intelligent, clever and quick I'll have my hands full trying to keep a step ahead of her."

"And that's what you want?"

"I'll never be bored, Charles. Yes. She's exactly what I want and need in my life. You, on the other hand, require a more passive personality. No white water for you. A soft stream that will glide you gently through life."

"I wouldn't mind a few ripples, Darcy. It's the maelstroms that I fear."

"Just remember that it's useless to fear what you cannot avoid. You're too young to worry about death, but a dominating sister is almost as bad. If you want to control your own destiny, have it out with Caroline and be done with it. You won't regret it. Charles, I swear, I've never known such happiness. The only problem I'm having with my happiness is an unreasonable fear that something awful will happen to keep us apart."

Bingley laughed, "like someone objecting when you're standing at the altar?"

Darcy shook his head, "that's not funny, Charles. Last night I dreamt that it was Elizabeth who objected."

Bingley howled, "still the worrywart!"

Darcy sighed, "I will be so glad once I'm a married man and can have happier dreams. But now if you'll excuse me, I'm for a nap. Wake me up when we get to Town."

Back at Longbourn,

Thomas Bennet stayed with his wife until Mr. Barton, the local apothecary arrived and pronounced Frances Rose Gardiner Bennet truly dead. He opined that it was a case of apoplexy brought about by her well-known nerves. Mr. Bennet cared not about the cause of his wife's death but only the fact that his companion of the past twenty-four years would no longer be there as a foil to his teasing. He heard the wailing of Kitty and the soothing sounds of Jane as she tried to comfort her sister and he saw the stunned and dried-eyed look of his favorite daughter but he could only focus on the loss of the woman whom he had spent nearly half his life with. After a few quiet minutes in conference with Mr. Barton, he went to his study with orders not to be disturbed and locked the door behind him.

Mr. Barton, who had come as a very young man to the village of Meryton to ply his trade, dismissed all apologies from Elizabeth for the actions of her father, knowing full well that anger and guilt would soon follow as it always did with a sudden death. He was a good and kindly man who had known the Bennets of Longbourn for a good twenty years and had enjoyed Mrs. Bennet's table at least once a month during those years. He had also enjoyed poring over a chessboard with Mr. Bennet once a week where excellent brandy was never stinted. During those many evenings Mr. Bennet had spoken frequently of the time when decisions would have to be made concerning the disposition of the body no matter who died first. He was so adamant about the final arrangements he had taken the trouble to write them all down and these precise instructions were locked safely in Mr. Barton's safe.

Tom Bennet did not hold with the family washing down his naked corpse then displaying their handiwork in the drawing-room where all the neighbors could come and gawk. He wanted the removal of the body done as quickly as possible and his clothes disbursed to the needy. During these brandy-soaked evenings neither man had given a thought to the possibility that Mrs. Bennet would be the one to go first but rather, that upon her husband's demise she and their children would be thrown into the hedgerows to starve. Against this sad fruition of Mrs. Bennet's worst nightmares, her husband had been secretly depositing money in a separate account for years. Upon his death his family would not be left destitute and if she could manage to marry off all five of their offspring, she would be quite comfortable. But all his plans for the future of his family had come to naught. She had gone first and he was left in shock and disbelief.

Gently, Mr. Barton apprised Elizabeth of her father's wishes. She had heard her father's same views on death enough times that with relief she agreed and left the arrangements to their old family friend. When he left the house to consult with the local funeral director she went to the door of her father's study and called quietly, "Father?"

"Leave me Lizzie."

Wearily she climbed the stairs to her room and settled at her desk. Where to begin? With her aunt Phillips living in Meryton, she supposed that she should be informed of her sister's death first but for the moment, Elizabeth had not the heart or strength to do so. A message of that import would only bring her aunt and uncle and possibly their two daughters rushing to Longbourn to offer assistance and comfort and no doubt an histrionic display that Elizabeth was sure she could not cope with. When Mrs. Phillips learned that her very own sister would not lie in state at Longbourn so that her friends could pay their respects she would be livid and loud. The morning was soon enough for that trial and hopefully Darcy would be there to lend moral support.

Her letter to Mary was brief and close to the point of curtness but there was no soft way to tell her sister that their mother was dead. She knew that protocol demanded that she send this sad news to Mr. Collins so he could prepare this greatest of shocks to a woman's delicate sensibilities, however, she also knew that Mary had the constitution of a horse and would deal with it in her usual stoic manner. She could imagine how Mr. Collins would have broken the news to his wife with his excess verbiage covering his broken heart that the wrong Bennet had passed away. She did not expect Mary to travel back to Hertfordshire in her condition and she hoped Mr. Collins would stay at home musing over the injustice of it all.

The letter to the Gardiners had a completely different tone for she knew her adored aunt and uncle would both be genuinely distressed at the news and would be anxious to give solace to their nieces. Dispassionately she attempted to describe in detail the events that had transpired that day. Despite her best intentions she could not avoid the guilt seeping into the bare facts. Selfishly she had ignored all the signs that her mother was not well. There was the slight tremble of the right hand and the complaint of a terrible headache. She had attributed this to her mother's anger and frustration when things didn't go her way. Her mother's constant complaint of her nerves had dulled everyone's senses to what might be a serious illness but that was no excuse for not calling Mr. Barton. Meryton was too small to offer a living to a doctor but Mr. Barton had been attending to the ailments of the inhabitants for twenty years and might have understood the symptoms, might even have been able to offer her mother some relief that would have avoided this catastrophe. If only she had not cast a blind eye to the fact that her mother, always so astute when it came to her desperate desire to marry off her daughters, had not even seen what was going on between herself and Darcy while she chattered away at Lady Catherine. That in itself should have been a warning sign that all was not well.

Elizabeth laid down her pen, thinking of the last moments of her mother's life and how she had called for Lydia. Even then it might not have been too late to call Mr. Barton. Instead, she thought only of her own happiness and the joy it would bring when she imparted her news. She expected to take a slightly sadistic pleasure in relating how her mother's least favorite daughter would be the means of keeping the family from starving in the hedgerows. 'Turn all her mother's pains and benefits to laughter and contempt, that she may feel how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child.'

Elizabeth sealed the letter. There were no messengers in Meryton who would be willing to make the ride to London after dark for less than triple the usual price and she was unwilling to have her uncle defray the cost. The letter would go out first thing in the morning so they would not read the news before noon on the morrow. That should give them time to arrange for the care of their children as well as for his business. She could not expect them to arrive in less than two days.

She considered writing a brief note to Darcy but could not find the words and decided he would hear of it soon enough. His presence, she suspected, would do more harm than good. She wanted nothing more than to escape Longbourn and seek solace in his arms. She could imagine herself begging him to take her away to Pemberley. She despised herself for these unnatural thoughts but they would intrude. Her virginal imaginings of Darcy no longer were just of his tenderness and humor but now included a passion to unite with his body, to possess his soul as he had captured hers. She ached for him and her mother's body was not yet cold. Added to her guilt was now shame.

She stood at her window watching dusk's arrival and the flickering lights of Meryton begin to glow, reminding her that outside in another world, life was moving on. Charlotte would be sitting down to dinner wondering what fate had in store for her. Her aunt Phillips would be thinking of what she should serve at her next whist party. Mrs. Long must be wondering how on earth she would ever marry off her twins. And William, her sweet William, was he thinking of her? Or was he gnashing his teeth trying to fend off Caroline Bingley? The thought brought a smile to Elizabeth's face remembering how she had accused him of leading poor Caroline on with his dimples and his hot denial until he realized that she was only teasing him. Thinking of how that moment had ended with a deep satisfying kiss that had left her shaken and yearning for so much more brought further wanton thoughts and she sighed in frustration mixed with a deep regret. Her mother would never know that the lilac gown she had chosen so carefully for her least favorite child had first attracted the handsome gentleman from Derbyshire. She wished she could turn the clock back and tell her how grateful she was for that sweet gift which was now leading her to such unimagined happiness. "Oh, mother", she sighed. "Please forgive me. I really did love you."

She turned from the window as Jane slipped into the room, "how's Kitty?"

"Asleep at last. And you, Lizzie?"

"In shock, full of remorse, regret, self-loathing and already missing her."

"Oh, Lizzie. What's happening to our family?"

"I think you'd have to ask a higher power for that answer, dearest Jane. I was just standing here remembering the night of my birthday when we were all together. I wasn't the happiest of women that night. Charlotte had left and I felt miserable missing her so. Kitty and Lydia were loud and boisterous and ate all my candy. And Mary...well, Mary was being Mary. You were off to London with aunt and uncle Gardiner the next day. I felt so lonely, so bored and so restless and dissatisfied There were seven of us and now we're down to four. I wish I had known how our lives would be so changed in just a few months. I might have appreciated us more. We may not have been a perfect family, but I'll miss the way we were."

"I remember that night and how proud mother was when you came down the stairs wearing your new gown."

"Was she?"

Jane smiled fondly at her sister, "Yes, Lizzie. Very proud. I was with her when she chose the fabric and that particular shade of lilac. I thought she would never make up her mind. She wanted a shade that would do justice to your eyes. Did you know that there are about a dozen shades of purple in our local shop? She took every bolt over to the window and cast her discerning eye over each of them. Then there was the pattern. The dress had to be chaste, but not too chaste. Daring but not too daring. A slight flare on the sleeves but not too flared. She did have a way of exhausting one."

Both sisters smiled at the recollection of their mother's shopping expeditions until suddenly there was the unmistakable sound of a carriage approaching through the gates. Elizabeth peered out the window and recognized the shape of a hearse. Quickly she bade Jane to see to Kitty in case their youngest sister awoke and realized what was happening.

Elizabeth kept watch at the window listening to the sounds of death being removed from their home until at long last a terrible stillness once again settled on Longbourn. Slowly she undressed and burrowed under the covers allowing her tears to find it's path to merciful sleep.

At Netherfield the following morning,

Mrs. Biggs was just sitting down with her first cup of coffee and a sweet roll fresh from the oven when she was handed a brief letter from her best friend, Mrs. Hill. Mrs. Biggs supposed it was confirmation of Lizzie Bennet's engagement to the handsome Mr. Darcy. 'Waste of good paper, Abbie', she thought to herself with a grin, savoring the excellent sweet roll. The entire house knew of the glad tidings from Longbourn. News of a wedding could spread like wildfire through a village, especially a love match which Mrs. Hill had affirmed was the case. Mrs. Biggs took a long drink of coffee, opened the letter and gasped in shock. Mrs. Bennet dead? Impossible! She read and re-read the note confirming the truth of it. She sat quietly trying to cope with the loss of Fanny Bennet and what her death would mean to the family and felt the tears start in compassion for the daughters she'd left behind and especially for Elizabeth who was a particular favorite of hers.

But as the housekeeper at Netherfield, Mrs. Biggs could not spare the time to dwell on her own sorrow for the Bennet family. She had to make known this news to the relevant party. But who would that be? By rights it should be Fitzwilliam Darcy but he was in Town. Then who? Early the previous morning she had heard a terrible row between Mr. Bingley and Miss Caroline. Shortly after, he had come to her to tell her that from that moment on, she was to seek Miss Louisa for any directions she needed in the running of the household. But to her way of thinking, Louisa Hurst was not the one who needed to be informed of the tragedy at Longbourn, it was Lady Catherine De Bourgh. Waking that lady before breakfast was ready to be served was not something Mrs. Biggs looked forward to, but she knew her duty. She summoned Lady Catherine's maid and asked for an audience with her mistress. Surprisingly, the maid didn't quiver and drop dead at her feet, but curtsied and disappeared back up the stairs.

Twenty minutes later she had gained entrance to Lady Catherine's boudoir. That formidable lady greeted the housekeeper with no sign of annoyance, only simple curiosity. "I assume, Mrs. Biggs, that what you have to tell me is of a serious nature?"

"Forgive me, Lady Catherine, but it is indeed. I've just gotten word from Longbourn that Mrs. Bennet has passed away."

Lady Catherine stared at the housekeeper trying to digest what she had just heard. "So there is no misunderstanding, are you saying that the mistress of Longbourn has died?"

"Yes, your ladyship. Miss Lizzie's...Miss Elizabeth's mother died last night."

"How?"

"I can't say. All I know is that shortly after your ladyship and Mr. Darcy left Longbourn yesterday Mrs. Bennet had some kind of spell. And then she died."

"I see. Well thank you, Mrs. Biggs, for informing me of this sad news. I'll tell my daughter and niece. I suppose it's up to you to tell Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley."

Alone again Lady Catherine sat in quiet reflection feeling a keen sadness for the family she hardly knew. As a mother herself, she felt an empathy for the poor woman who would now never know that at least one of her daughters had done her proud. And Elizabeth? How was she dealing with this tragedy? She supposed she had best get dressed and go to Longbourn. Convention called for only cards and letters to be left at a house of bereavement. No one but close members or the dearest friends of the family would be admitted to a house in mourning. She was neither, but still, somehow she must advise Elizabeth that Darcy had gone to Town and would not return until late that afternoon and a brief note would appear too cold. A heavy sigh escaped her as she considered the vagaries of life and how life had a way of taking so many twisted paths. From delirious joy to crushing misery in the blink of an eye. It was a wonder that anyone survived their own existence. An excellent reason for making the most of it.

At the east wing of Netherfield,

Louisa stood at her sister's door taking deep breaths willing herself to be strong and not let Caroline best her in the confrontation that was about to take place. The memory of her brother's face as he related just what Caroline had said to him was still etched in her mind. That she would have the nerve to couple the name of that sweet-natured Jane Bennet with the dissolute and wanton behavior of the youngest Bennet sister was beyond the pale and could no longer be endured. Louisa was thoroughly ashamed of Caroline and was determined to keep an image of her brother's face in her mind through the ordeal of reasoning with her sister.

To her great surprise, her sister was actually out of bed though it was not yet ten o'clock. Otherwise, it was the same Caroline sitting at her dressing table staring at her reflection. This in itself was nothing unusual but it was the look of utter sadness on Caroline's face that caught Louisa's attention. "I assume your maid has been busy and you've heard the news?" Louisa asked.

Caroline nodded, "I've been sitting here remembering the day we heard that our own mother had died. Do you remember that day?"

"How could I not? I thought the cook would faint when you called father a liar, that mother was too young to die."

"Did you know that for weeks I was angry at her for being so careless for dying and leaving us when we still needed her?"

Louisa refrained from commenting on just how vocal Caroline had been in her anger, "Yes, Carrie, I remember."

"It's a terrifying thought that just a few nights ago that woman accosted me at the assembly, bleating about the plumes in my hat... and now she lies dead."

"It does make you think of your own mortality."

"No doubt she died of shock when she learned of her daughter's engagement."

"You're all charity, Caroline."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Lou, but you're right. I should not have said that. Nor should I have hurt Charles the way I did yesterday. I doubt if he'll ever forgive me."

"He will eventually."

"It will be hardest on the youngest girl. Darcy and Charles will be back in a few hours and will comfort Elizabeth and Jane, but Kitty will have no one."

Louisa sat in stunned silence hardly able to comprehend the direction her planned confrontation was going. She half expected Caroline to be gleeful over the misery that had descended on Longbourn. Instead, she seemed to be honestly sympathetic. Caroline never failed to surprise.

"One night you asked me to look in the mirror and take a hard look at myself," Caroline continued. "Last night I did just that. I made a serious mistake in coming to Netherfield. If I had stayed in Town I might have avoided the humiliation I brought upon myself. I've lost what I never had and my defeat is complete. Mrs. Bennet's death put the final nail in my coffin. I'm done for." Finally she turned from the mirror and faced Louisa. "I've decided to visit aunt Estelle. Shropshire will give me some distance which I need right now. Then I may make a trip abroad."

"I think that would be for the best, Carrie. How long will you be gone?"

"I have no idea. Months...years...my plans are not fixed. I just know I have to get away before they return from Town. I can't face either of them."

"Will you write?"

"Of course."

"Should I worry about you, Carrie?"

Caroline managed a wry smile, "no, but you might worry about the next eligible man I meet. Perhaps I'll do better the next time."

Louisa's relief was intense but with this emotion came regret and sadness, and if she dared admit it, guilt that she hadn't been able to do more for her sister. But she could not dwell on her failure with Caroline. She had to think of Charles and what Caroline's leaving would mean to him. In her heart she knew that it would have been preferable for Charles to deal with his sister, but she would not argue with success. If he was really serious about Jane Bennet there was now no impediment to his pursuit of her. And as for her own husband, bless him, he would now be free of his obnoxious sister-in-law. He had been the best of men allowing Caroline to live with them for so long. Even after Charles had bought his own townhouse, Caroline spent half her time with the Hursts and Louisa couldn't remember the last time that she had traveled with her husband without suffering the company of that third party. All that was about to change and she felt her joy begin to rise just thinking of it. For a moment she felt that odious guilt rear it's ugly head again but it was fleeting and with a broad grin on her face, she sped downstairs to apprise Hurst of their coming joy and to enjoy an excellent breakfast.