Near dusk on the night before their weddings Elizabeth and Jane returned to Longbourn. It was a particularly poignant moment for Elizabeth as their carriage pulled to a stop before the only home she had ever known. The old house held the memories of a lifetime and she felt compelled to bid it a fond farewell not knowing when she would ever see it again. It seemed like a fitting conclusion to her childhood. And too, she wanted to say her final goodbyes to her mother.

They had been given the option of marrying in the Gardiner church or the chapel at the Pemberley estate but after much consideration, she and Jane had decided they would prefer to marry in the small church where they had been christened and where their mother laid at rest in the old churchyard. No invitations had been sent as it was to be a private ceremony. Respecting the need to keep the wedding ceremony as discreet as possible the Gardiners remained in London and though the Phillips had been notified, Mrs. Phillips knew how to hold a grudge. She had not yet forgiven Mr. Bennet's cavalier treatment of her sister's death so did not respond to the invitation. Mary was a new mother and could not chance the long journey back to Hertfordshire and Charlotte had gone down to Surrey to keep company with a sister-in-law who's confinement was proving difficult. Though their wedding would be less auspicious than their mother would have planned, Elizabeth had no cause to repine for she cared nothing at all for the trappings of the ceremony but only for what it would mean at it's conclusion. She would be joined in holy wedlock to a man of her own choosing and had no doubt of the felicity their marriage would bring.

During a subdued dinner the four remaining Bennets spoke quietly in a desultory manner steering clear of the past. Two months had passed and their separate pains had eased proving that time indeed healed most wounds. Guilt had been assuaged somewhat and most of the tears had dried. After dinner Mr. Bennet went to his study and Kitty retired to her room. A quiet word with Jane and she too climbed the stairs leaving Elizabeth alone to make her final farewell to Longbourn.

In the long suffering music room she could almost believe she could still hear Mary hammering away at the pianoforte determined to be the the most accomplished girl in Hertfordshire. Poor Mary. She had tried so hard to make up for her lack of beauty but had concentrated on the mechanics too much and had never felt the music. In many respects, her music had mirrored her choice in life. She wanted to be a wife and the mistress of her own household and had accomplished her goal at the tender age of eighteen but at what cost? Her marriage had proved to be much like her music, off-key and unpleasant in the extreme. Now at the age of just nineteen Mary was a mother and utterly delighted with little Frances Rose Collins, named so after their mother. Her husband, was a little less pleased for he fully expected to be presented with a son once his dear wife ceased her annoying screams during the birthing process. After a brief glance at his daughter he pronounced that the next time Mary must try harder to produce a son. Unfortunately, the man was as stupid as ever and made the mistake of speaking in front of Lady Catherine who had returned to Rosing's Park shortly before the blessed event and was pleased to be the child's godmother. According to Mary, Lady Catherine told the new father to go to hell and if his wife had any sense, there would be no next time. Reading between the lines, Elizabeth suspected that Mary had begun to find Mr. Collins an onerous burden at best for she seemed to take great delight in describing her husband's next sermon the title of which was "Men Are Such Useless Creatures". Elizabeth also thought perhaps that Mary had been too long in the company of Lady Catherine and had discovered her own biting humor. Elizabeth supposed that the idiot deserved some pity but the only pity she could spare was for Mary who was stuck for the next fifty years with such a man.

Elizabeth's amusement at Mr. Collin's plight faded somewhat when thoughts of Lydia still had the power to intrude. She could hear Lydia and her loud raucous laughter bragging about how many times she had danced the night before. Poor Lydia, grown too old, too soon. Was she still dancing or had her choices already stolen away her joy and youth? Elizabeth could see no happiness in Lydia's future. There were some rules not made to be broken and she wondered if her youngest sister had learned that bitter lesson or was she still blissfully unaware of the price she would pay for leaving the safety of her family. She knew she shouldn't dwell on her sister's infamous behavior but on the eve of her marriage how could she not? Lydia's egregious behavior had brought their family disgrace and grief and might have destroyed all hope for Elizabeth's future. Memories of the acute despair she felt when she thought she had lost Darcy's favor still had the power to cripple her mind and body and she could never forgive Lydia. She was lost forever and Elizabeth fervently prayed she would never again surface and bring further sorrow to their family. She no longer cared whether she would ever see her youngest sister again and she felt no guilt attached to her sentiments.

The sudden death of her mother had brought added grief threatening once more to destroy her happiness. It was a shameful thought that between Lydia's defection and their mother's death, one good thing had come of it. Under her father's guidance and much in the company of Georgianna, Kitty had shown that she was actually capable of lady-like behavior. She no longer had a nervous cough, and now spoke quietly and with a modicum of calm. She had also begun to read and take great enjoyment in the exercise. She still had a long way to go but Elizabeth had great hopes for Kitty. Indeed, she had great hopes for her father as well. He seemed to take pleasure in watching Kitty improve and though he could still make sport of her it was done with a touch of affection and Kitty was more than pleased to finally obtain her father's approval.

In the drawing room Elizabeth moved her hand gently across her mother's favorite chair, hearing her prattling on aimlessly about satin and laces and long sleeves.Always flustered and distressed. Always wanting the best for her children. It seemed so unfair that just when all her dreams were about to be realized, her body had betrayed her. Though most of Elizabeth's guilt had been faced there was still a deep regret at her selfishness in denying her the knowledge of the engagement to Darcy. She had so feared that her mother's unbridled joy and thoughtless remarks concerning jewels and carriages seemed at the time intolerable. In retrospect, it now seemed to be such a petty motive compared to her mother's death.

Finally she walked down the back hall and descended to the kitchen and stood for a minute capturing Mr. And Mrs. Hill sitting quietly at their table sipping their last cup of coffee for the day. They both stood as she approached and Elizabeth hugged Mr. Hill then turned to Mrs. Hill and allowed herself to be embraced by her ample arms, remembering all the times she had sneaked into the kitchen drawn by the delicious aromas of that favorite room of her childhood. So many fond memories. Her childhood seemed to be peopled by shadowy figures that were already beginning to fade. With time, they would be nothing but indistinct memories of the past locked away in a secret part of her heart.

In her room late into the night Elizabeth could still not find sleep and found herself standing at her bedroom window staring out into the darkness as had been her wont for as long as she could remember. She still found it difficult to comprehend that her days at Longbourn were coming to an end. There had been times when she had come to believe that her future lay in the small village which was little more than a speck on the map. Just when her misery could not have become more acute, her redemption had descended on Longbourn in the guise of a fat little cleric who had pork sausage for brains. How could she have guessed that the little toad's entrance on the scene would lead to such happiness? She couldn't help a wry smile remembering how she had pleaded with Mary not to marry such a buffoon, but Mary would have her way and left Hertfordshire without a moment's regret. How horrified and disgusted Elizabeth had been as she watched their carriage set off for Kent never dreaming that this unholy alliance would so change the course of her own life. Sometimes in the dead of night when sleep would not come she wondered what would have happened if she had accepted his featherbrained proposal as her mother had demanded, and had ended up at Kent. What would have happened to them all if she had met Darcy and they had fallen in love. She supposed it would have ended in suicide or better still, mariticide. neither of which gave her much comfort. Killing one's husband was a hanging offense no matter how justifiable.

After a restless sleep Elizabeth awoke early and dressed quickly feeling a need for one last brisk walk down the familiar road to Meryton. It had been just such a morning a year earlier when she had run from Longbourn so desperately unhappy with her life and wanting any kind of change that would give some meaning to her life. She could not have guessed just how many changes fate had in store for their little family but she would not dwell on it. She had spent most of the previous night in deep reflection of the past and had come to terms with it. In two hours her life would be changed forever and she was determined to leave the past behind where it belonged and welcome the future.

As she neared the turn-off to Lucas Lodge her steps slowed, her resolve in forgetting the past, slipping just a little thinking of her dearest friend. During her sojourn in London, Elizabeth had implored her friend to join their family in Town but on one pretext or another had been refused. Elizabeth found it difficult to believe Charlotte's excuse for not attending the wedding for she knew very well that Charlotte and her sister were not the best of friends. She now had to admit that her friendship with Charlotte had begun to fray and might never be repaired. Elizabeth would marry and become the mistress of a large estate while Charlotte would remain behind to continue her spinster life in a tiny community unless she took another position in some stranger's household. Elizabeth was heart sore over the situation but knew not how she could alter what life had brought to them. Charlotte had been an integral part of her life for so many years and she missed her good counsel. She could only pray that Charlotte would eventually find her own happiness. She was so good, there had to be a man who would love her as she deserved.

When she finally reached the turn-off she stopped and allowed her eyes to fall upon the rich browns, ambers and greens that grew upon the earth. As she had done so many times as a child, she raised her eyes to heaven and slowly spun around, marveling at the large puffy clouds floating in the blue, blue sky and offered up a silent prayer for all the beauty of this wonderful world and for the future granted her.

"What took you so long? It's freezing out here."

Elizabeth stopped spinning in shock and surprise that she had been caught in such a childish display. She stared at Darcy, taking in his soft smile as he leaned against a tree regarding her with undisguised affection.

She laughed and ran towards him throwing her arms around his neck, "how did you guess I'd be here?"

"I didn't. I just hoped to see you. Instead I found an enchanting nymph spinning a spell on me as I watched. Darcy kissed her gently, then tightened his grip on her. "Oh, sweetheart, our time is finally here. Tell me you're as happy as I am."

Elizabeth gazed into his eyes and did her best to suppress a grin, "William, if you knew what I was thinking, you would surely blush."

"Tell me!"

"One day perhaps. When I get to know you better."

Her reply was rewarded with another gentle kiss. Darcy leaned his forehead against hers, "oh, Lizzie. It seems I've been looking for you all my life. I can hardly believe that tonight we'll be together in our home and in another few days we'll be at Pemberley. God has been very good to us, sweetheart."

Elizabeth blinked back tears, "sometimes I don't think I deserve such happiness."

"You deserve everything, Elizabeth, but I think you had better get back to Longbourn. You're shivering. My household will never forgive me if I carry in a limp bride."

Elizabeth giggled, "that would be preferable to carrying in Caroline Bingley." She took his face between her hands and kissed him once more before she squirmed out of his arms, "meet you at the church, my love." With a last wave, she sped back to Longbourn, her heart soaring.

The ceremony was solemn and brief. After a low mass both couples exchanged their vows and were blessed by the church of England and it was over. Elizabeth's hand was shaking as she signed her new name in the registry and Darcy touched her shoulder lightly, adding his support and understanding. She responded with a smile of thanks and he leaned close to her, "careful, Mrs. Darcy, or you'll make me blush," he whispered.

Elizabeth was still smiling as she left the church on the arm of her husband.

After a fond farewell to their father and Kitty, and the Hills who had borne witness, Elizabeth and Jane walked to the churchyard and laid their wedding bouquets on Mrs. Bennet's grave and after a quiet prayer returned to their new husbands and went their separate ways. The Bingleys were for Netherfield Park and the Darcys were for London.

On the way to Town a stillness descended on them both as they gazed at each other. Elizabeth was determined to let him direct the conversation but soon realized that he was just as determined to remain silent. There were times when his dark eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul but when he added a soft quizzical smile the combination unnerved her. As her anxiety grew, his smile grew more amused which inevitably brought a blush to her face. "What on earth is passing through your mind, Mr. Darcy?" she demanded.

Darcy laughed softly, "I was wondering what on earth I'm going to do with you now that I have you. And you? Is anything passing through your mind, dearest?"

His playful response had the desired effect and Elizabeth relaxed, "I suppose it's a mixture of terror, shock and bewilderment. I'm wondering how on earth I got myself into this fix."

"A fix? I'd rather you call it bliss."

"Oh you would, would you?"

"Indeed I would."

"Well, according to Mr. Collins, I must defer to my husband in all things. So, how on earth did I get myself into this bliss?"

He moved to her side and pulled her into a rough embrace, "Lady you bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins, And there is such confusion in my powers."

"Oh dear. Now you quote Mr. Collins?"

"Minx!"

"Poet!"

The next hour was spent clinging to each other with so many thoughts and feeling being said that little attention was paid to the weather. After a brief stop for a change of horses and a quick cup of hot soup they returned to the carriage and took up where they left off. He held her close and recited poetry while she nibbled on his neck and ran her hands through the curls on the back of his neck until he grew so distracted he lost his train of thought and fell silent except for several groans. "Take care, my love," he warned. "This is neither the time or place. Just try to remember where you were when I stopped you."

"How soon will we reach Town?"

"How your eagerness delights me, my little pearl. You are uniformly charming."

Elizabeth groaned, "I knew I shouldn't have told you about that other proposal."

"But it it was only natural, sweet pea. You wished to increase my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "will you ever let me forget that terrible day?"

"Eventually." With a quick kiss he released her. "In answer to your question, we're still five miles out." For the first time since leaving the church in Meryton Darcy concentrated on the darkened skies that were threatening to break open. The wind began to kick up and in the distance he could hear the clap of thunder. On the edge of Town it began to rain with a light drizzle and quickly escalated to a downpour. Between the wind and the deluge the carriage began to rock.

"Did we set sail," asked Elizabeth "while we were so agreeably engaged, Husband?"

Darcy searched for a sign of fear of his wife's face but saw none. "Do you find this situation amusing, sweetheart?"

"Anne wrote to me after she and Richard were married and traveling in the lake district. She said I would find marriage amusing and exciting."

"Really? And what else did she have to say?" When Elizabeth didn't respond, he continued to regard his wife with amusement, "Elizabeth?"

She was positive that Fordyce's sermons said something about lying to one's husband so she remained steadfastly silent. She was not about to tell her new husband that his dear cousin had mentioned the ecstasy of the marriage bed.

Much to Darcy's amusement, his darling wife was still blushing when they arrived safely at their townhouse.

Elizabeth's aunt had advised her to trust her husband and she would find great pleasure in the marriage bed. In a moment of her own unbridled joy, Anne had referred to what Elizabeth could expect in the marriage bed as ecstasy. That was about as far as most women dared to approach the subject, leaving their daughters completely in the dark as to just how this pleasure and ecstasy came about. There was only one thing she could reasonably be sure of. When Darcy touched her, something triggered a reaction deep in her core causing an ineffable desire to lose her own identity. She wanted him to possess her.

Hours later all her needs were answered with a gentle persuasion. As Elizabeth lay beneath her husband seeing him clearly in the moonlight that fell across her own marriage bed she found that pleasure and ecstasy were words that fell far short of the reality. Pleasure indeed came when he cupped her breast and leaned down and took the nipple between his lips and began to suck softly moving his hand down with a light gossamer touch just shy of her mons. His touch inflamed her senses and without conscience thought she opened to him, raising her legs to clasp his body pulling him towards her, accepting him. She felt him enter her body with a sweet ease as he gently broke through her barrier, holding her in a soothing embrace, waiting patiently for the pain to subside.

After a moment he intruded further, pressing aside her virgin flesh with a steady insistence, calling in a soft whisper for her to take him deep inside. She thought her pleasure could not possibly increase. How mistaken she was as he began to withdraw then eased into her again, still with an agonizingly slow pace until she raised her hips willing him to go deeper. His momentum increased plunging into her depths turning her body into a blistering euphoria of pain and rapture. He knew instinctively when she had reached the very edge and felt her sudden stillness and silent plea. He waited a split second before once more in a mindless frenzy plunged and withdrew over and over until she cried out and he was able to give her release with his own.

In the moments that followed Elizabeth held her husband's body close feeling his heart beat hard against hers. She moved her hands over him feeling the strength of him. Her mind slid back to a night at the theatre when she had first laid eyes on him and had wondered what it would be like to be in the power of this man. And now she knew. Pleasure, ecstasy, joy and bliss all rolled together in exaltation and contentment. And she loved it.

When she was finally able to control her breathing she asked, sweetly, "how often are we allowed to indulge ourselves in such a manner, husband."

"Once a year is the accepted norm, I believe."

Lizzie laughed softly, "your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble, Mr. Darcy, but my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken."

Darcy sighed, nibbling on her neck, "I love your attentions."

The morning brought a new revelation to Elizabeth as she rolled over and opened her eyes to see her husband lying beside her. Her fastidious Mr. Darcy had disappeared leaving in his place a man with tousled curls and in his sleep a look of sweet innocence that moved her to tears. She reached out a hand and gently brushed his hair back much as she would have done to a small boy.

Darcy awoke immediately, "has another year passed?" he groaned.

Elizabeth laughed with joy. "No, sweetheart, we are still in our third year of wedded bliss. But before another year has passed, your blushing bride needs to be fed."

He pulled her into her arms, "these three years were so blissful. It seems like only yesterday we were wed."

"Husband, I can assure you that unless you feed me, not another year will pass."

Darcy kissed her roughly, then as agile as a cat bounded from the bed and started searching for his robe. Elizabeth saw her husband naked for the first time and thinking him a most splendid animal, relented. "Perhaps I was too hasty. Man cannot live on bread alone."

He grinned boyishly, "no, I'll feed you. We'll need all our strength for the coming years."

And so began their marriage which would prove to be more sublime than either had imagined.

During his sojourn in Town,

in an idle conversation with Darcy, Mr. Bennet had suggested that he might take his daughter Kitty to Venice and Florence...possibly even to Rome...sometime in the Spring. Darcy was appalled and said so, noting that such a journey was the height of folly with Napoleon playing havoc in Europe. "Even the journey to Paris would prove arduous, Sir. And once there, you would be facing another twelve hundred miles."

"Young man, I am fully aware of the distances involved."

"Sir, I understand your need to get away from Hertfordshire for a while, but I must advise you against undertaking such a brutal trip. Why not consider a short trip to Bath?"

"Sitting in a tub of hot mud is not my idea of pleasure, Mr. Darcy. The last time I did so it took a year for me to clean all my crevices."

Darcy laughed hardily picturing the hapless Mr. Bennet cleaning all his crevices. When he was able to contain himself, he suggested Edinburgh as a alternative. "It's only about four hundred miles and it's truly a remarkable city."

"I think you're missing the point, Mr. Darcy. It is not Edinburgh I wish to see. It's Florence."

"And I believe you are missing my point, Sir. According to my cousin Richard, Europe is a dangerous place to be at the moment. And Scotland is still relatively safe. The Scots even speak a kind of English."

Mr. Bennet stared at his future son-in-law. He had never really taken the time to get to know the young man. Beyond his wealth and good looks he had never seen anything to recommend him. His own laissez faire approach to anything outside his port and books had kept him in the dark with what was going on in his own household. All he had ever seen was a tall quiet man who looked with favor upon Elizabeth. That his favorite daughter would be happily settled was all he had concerned himself with. He was now finding that Mr. Darcy was intelligent, articulate and possessed a sense of humor. He was also deadly serious about undertaking a trip to Europe.

Mr. Bennet had also noted that Darcy had skirted around the real issue. What had been left unsaid was Mr. Bennet's age. A trip to Rome from London would prove to be arduous enough for a young man with a year to idle away, but a man nearing eight and forty with a young girl to care for would be utter madness. Mr. Bennet relented, "I suppose I might consider it. I've never been that far north."

"You would not be disappointed. I've been there several times. There's a very fine hotel near the center of town where I always stay. It's owned by an American lady. I could write her and make the arrangements if you like."

"Well, I have six months to think about it."

And during the next six months he did think about it every time he climbed into his carriage and made the trip into London to borrow an armful of books from the Darcy library. And he thought of it when he returned to Longbourn, his body aching and sore from a round trip of fifty miles. That he had contemplated a journey of nearly sixteen hundred miles had indeed been the height of folly. In March he scribbled off a letter to Pemberley asking Darcy to make reservations at the hotel in Edinburgh for the the month of May. Darcy acknowledged the letter and a month later a very fine carriage arrived pulled by four superb specimens of horse flesh directed by two burly drivers.

Kitty refrained from squealing in delight while Mr. Bennet stared in awe at the munificence displayed by his son-in-law. For a moment he thought that sixteen hundred miles might not be that arduous riding in such comfort. However it was just a fleeting thought. It had been a quarter of century since he had seen the beauties of Florence. He'd been a young man of two and twenty and madly in love and now he was neither. Best let the past remain so. He still had his memories and would never be disappointed at how little his memory matched the reality.

About the time the Bennets were finalizing their plans for the trip north Peter Postlewaite left Nottinghamshire and rode south at a leisurely pace. The previous eight months had seen the death of both his parents. The death of his mother came as no surprise for she had been in frail health for years and after her eldest son's defection she seemed to lose all interest in life. Her arranged marriage had given her little joy except for her sons and the beautiful grounds surrounding the estate. When her husband in his anger ceded the estate to Peter and took her away to London, something in her died. It had only been a matter of time before she succumbed to her melancholia.

Father and son accompanied her body back north to the family crypt exchanging few words for there was little to say. He and his father had never been friends and after Simon had run off they had become as strangers. His father had always been a cool and reserved man who had never shown any affection towards his wife or sons though he was never unkind. They were simply part of the furniture and he accepted it. It took many years before Peter realized that it was possible that their marriage had been forced on his father as well as his mother.

After returning to the house in London his father spent many hours in his study or in the back garden simply sitting on one of the stone benches. According to his servants they were concerned but not overly so for they had always known him to be a solitary gentleman. In late January on a bitter cold night he had managed to slip out of the house unnoticed. Wearing only his nightshirt he sat down on the stone bench and froze to death.

Peter had always hoped that by showing how much he loved the land it would bring his father around but now it was too late and he felt lonely and abandoned. His father's disavowal of his youngest son was now complete and the melancholia that had afflicted his mother and was always a part of his own nature descended in full force. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive.

He allowed himself to wallow in his own self-pity for a month before he wearied of it. For the past three months he had worked hard at his estate spending long hours in the saddle checking out every square yard of his land and ordering necessary repairs after the harsh winter. During the evening hours he amused himself by sketching improvements of the manor's interior. He'd ordered newer and lighter furniture to more reflect his own taste. Unconsciously he was removing all traces of his parent's residency and making it his own.

As spring slowly returned he spent more time reliving the past and facing it squarely. He'd tried to be a good son. As a child he'd never given his parents a moment's anxiety. He'd graduated with honors from school, and when his brother had run off he had taken responsibility for the estate and had worked tirelessly. During the last weeks of his mother's illness he had remained by her side giving her comfort. He'd done everything he could to make his father love him and had failed. Now it was too late. The words that should have been spoken were left unsaid. Reason had always warred with emotion. Intellectually he understood that you couldn't make someone love if they were unwilling or incapable of such feeling, but his father's indifference to him had left him in a kind of detached state always standing outside fearing that if he ever did reach out, a rejection might be the end of him.

Then one morning on a beautiful spring day he had his horse saddled and headed south unsure of his final destination. However, as he approached the crossroads he reined to a stop and dismounted. He leaned against a tree while he thought hard and long about his next move while asking himself what he truly wanted. The manor had been scrubbed clean, the rugs replaced and old fashioned paintings and curios disposed of. As it stood, it was an impersonal shell of a house. He supposed he could continue south towards London and wander through all the shops trying to find some items that might actually look like someone lived in his house but he wasn't sure he was up to it. He had been living in a cold world for so long he had no confidence that he knew how to find warmth.

With a deep sigh he remounted and turned west towards Hertfordshire.

Charles and Jane were walking in the garden when they saw Peter riding towards them. Their reception of him was warm and genuine and he found his spirits rising as he dismounted and gripped Bingley's hand. "I see that marriage has not changed you. Still as glum as ever."

Jane smiled broadly and kissed Peter's cheek, "welcome to Netherfield," she said softly.

Bingley and his angel had done very well with each other. Their tempers were much alike but not so complying that nothing would ever be resolved on, nor so easy that every servant would cheat them and certainly never exceeded their income for Jane had taken over the management of the household with a gentle and steady hand, allowing her husband to concentrate on the management of the estate. Without the debilitating effect of Caroline, she watched her beloved husband grow more confident in his skills and acumen to the point where they were talking of abandoning Netherfield when the lease was up in June and buying a larger estate. This decision was taken away from them when Mr. Phillips informed them that the owner of the property had decided to return to Netherfield and was no longer interested in leasing or selling the estate.

"The owner is very kind," Jane said over dinner. "They realize that two months is not much time to find another property so we can stay on until November and pay by the month. But they wish to be settled for the holidays."

"Have you contacted an agent?"

Bingley laughed, "if you mean have I contacted Darcy, yes I have. And now that you're here, consider yourself contacted too. You both know what I'd want better than an agent. Just keep an eye out for an estate. I think I can handle something about twice this size."

"Consider it done. And will you miss Netherfield?"

"It's been a wonderful learning experience," Bingley replied. "I find that running an estate suits me very well. But I confess I'm eager for new challenges. And I miss Darcy and Jane misses her sister."

"I'll miss father and Kitty and, of course, Charlotte Lucas," Jane said, "but we really don't have a choice."

"How is Miss Lucas?" Peter asked. "In good health, I hope."

"I think so. We've seen little of her recently. She's been keeping to herself since our weddings."

Peter frowned, "that's not like her."

His hosts exchanged a look which Peter missed, "I know," was Jane's reply.

Later that evening the two men settled in comfortably before a fire savoring an excellent brandy. "I was very sorry to hear about your parents, Peter. I hardly remember my mother's death but when my father died it was a terrible blow. And I know it was very hard for Jane and her sisters. There's an invisible cord that ties us to our parents and when it's cut it's as if we've been left alone in the world with no one to turn to if we need help."

"I gave up asking my father for help years ago."

"Things were never resolved?"

Peter shook his head, "no, never resolved. I've had to do that myself."

"And have you?"

"Still working on it."

"Darcy once told me that nowhere is it written that you must love your sister. I think that must apply as well for parents and children. Who knows why we love and why we can't. I tried my level best with Caroline but she had her demons. And perhaps it was the same with your father."

"Possibly. It was an arranged marriage which brought neither of them pleasure."

"Well, at least you won't fall into that trap, knowing first hand what kind of misery can come with such a union."

"And are you still happy, Charles?"

Bingley stared at him in shock, "of course I am. I can't imagine what I'd do without Jane."

"And Darcy? Is he still happy?"

"Well, his letters don't reveal much about his private affairs but," Bingley added with a sly grin, "Lizzie tells Jane that she never believed that she could be so happy. Apparently, marriage suits both of them very well. We've been invited to Pemberley this summer. Did you get their invitation to join them?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I don't know. I still have a lot of work to do on my estate."

"Oh, do come, Pete. Richard and Anne will be there. And Charlotte Lucas has been invited too."

"Well, maybe I will. Yes, maybe I will."

Suppressing a grin, Bingley refilled their glasses.