Ultimately, Elizabeth Bennet was right. Time healed his wounds.

The change was not immediate. Nor was it permanent.

Some days, Will found, were easier than others. But then easier days started to pile on top of one another. Days on end on which he could not wait to rise in the morning and learn.

And learn he did. While his father pined, Will became the master of Pemberley. He learned accounts, he learned about his tenants, and the crops they produced, and he found he could sit at a desk for four hours answering letters, and still it would not be enough.

But Will was determined to do right - and sometimes, drifting off into a sated sleep at night, he would realize he'd gone through the whole day without once thinking of his mother. And when he did remember her, the thought was not painful; it was more bittersweet and sometimes, the memories made him smile.

Georgie grew up before his eyes. She was beautiful, the image of her mother, well-educated, though painfully shy. Mr. Darcy eventually left his bedroom, but he never resumed his full duties as master of Pemberley. He died of typhoid before Georgie's fourteenth birthday. While his death affected the Darcy siblings deeply, they both knew they had lost him long before illness set on.

There were women in those years as well. Will was a man, but he was conscientious and careful and made no commitments. He knew what was due his family name, and just before his twenty-eighth birthday, he proposed to his cousin Anne DeBourgh, a sickly girl four years his junior.

Anne accepted, of course, for her mother, Will's Aunt Catherine, would not have given her another option. The DeBourgh's had a great deal of money, and the Darcy name spoke for itself. The union had been the particular wish of Mrs. Darcy and her sister Catherine. The wedding could wait a year or two, she decided, which did not bother Will in the slightest. He had no feelings toward his marriage whatsoever, excitement nor dread. He expected he would be a good husband to Anne. He would make her happy. He hoped she might give him a son. He did not think about what would be required of him for that, for he regarded Anne almost as he did Georgie, a young girl, a sister, and not worthy of his scrutiny.

Aunt Catherine wrung a peal over his head when Will announced he was paying a visit to the Gardiners' home in London just after he and Anne announced their engagement.

"Really, nephew, how selfish!" she complained. "You know Anne's health won't permit her to travel so far, and you know it's inappropriate for you to be parading about town as though you were eligible."

"I'm hardly parading," Will said as calmly as he could. "I don't intend to do anything that would bring down scrutiny upon the family or our engagement. The Gardiner's are old friends; I owe them a visit. I'll be back in a week, Aunt, you'll hardly miss me."

To Anne, he said, "I'm off, my dear, goodbye," and she replied with a wan smile and a soft wish for a safe journey. He knew he could expect little trouble from that quarter.

And that was how Will Darcy found himself one rainy afternoon in the Gardiners' Gracechurch Street drawing room, being introduced to a number of plain-looking guests at teatime. He did not pay attention to the courtesies until Mr. Gardiner gestured over a particularly captivating dark-haired woman.

"Will, this is my niece, Mrs. Pauley," Mr. Gardiner said. "Lizzie, may I present Mr. Darcy? His family are close friends of ours."

Will prepared to bow over Mrs. Pauley's hand, kiss it, utter some useless courtesy, and promptly forget her name.

But then he saw her eyes.

He had seen them before: green, defiant, comforting, all at the same time, confusing him and enthralling him.

He and Mrs. Pauley looked at one another, comprehension dawning on them both at the same time.

"Elizabeth Bennet!" he exclaimed.

She smiled. "Mr. Darcy."

"You've met?" asked Mr. Gardiner, perplexed.

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, Uncle. Aunt Marie introduced us, a number of years ago. Before I was married." She turned to Will, grinning. "It's been a while since I've heard myself called Elizabeth Bennet. It sounds awfully strange to me now."

"It's all I know you as, madam," he said. "Though I suppose I could learn new habits."

Mr. Gardiner bowed, smiling.

"I shall leave you to reacquaint yourselves."

Oddly, Will was glad to see him go. He wanted to be alone with Elizabeth, the strange girl who had comforted him, though he was cruel to her, and who was now married.

"Mrs. Pauley?" he asked immediately. "You were half a girl when I saw you last."

"You speak as though you knew me," Elizabeth laughed.

"I felt I did," Will confessed. "You told me things would be better...and they were."

Elizabeth touched his hand. "I wouldn't have lied, sir, you know."

They stared at one another for a moment, and Will felt it again: that strange desire mixed with a need to protect her.

"Your husband," he said, finally, knowing this topic would effectively banish the feeling.

"What of him?"

"Well, who is he? How did you meet?"

"His name is James," said Elizabeth. "I've known him since I was a girl. We lived in the same neighborhood; our families have been friends for years. And we grew up and we fell in love."

Will smiled at how simple it sounded.

"Do you have children?"

"A daughter. Jane. I named her..."

"...for your sister," Will finished.

"How...?"

"When we met," he said. "You said your father was your dearest friend apart from your sister Jane."

"You remembered that?"

Will bowed his head.

"And what of you, Mr. Darcy?"

"What of me?"

"Well, are you married?"

"No," Will said, "but soon to be."

Elizabeth smiled. "And who is the lucky lady?"

"Anne DeBourgh," Will answered. "The daughter of my mother's sister. We have known each other for many years, much like you and your husband."

"My congratulations," said Elizabeth. "I'm sure you love her very much."

Those green eyes demanded truth, and Will was tempted to give it to her.

But, in a moment of irrational jealousy, he thought of James Pauley, the man she'd loved from childhood and her husband. Those green eyes belonged to James Pauley, and not to him, and he owed them nothing.

"Yes," he said, "I do, and we are certain to be most happy."

Will left for Rosings the following day.