That evening, dinner was once again a mostly silent affair. Jane, though, was able to keep some light, intermittent conversation going. I had to admire how gracefully and naturally she did it, too, for the mood was akin to there being a death in the family. Once everyone was finishing up, Betsie came in with a note.

"A letter for Mrs. Bennet, ma'am," she said quietly, holding it out.

"Why! It's from that nice Mr. Wickham!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. I froze. Nice Mr. Wickham?

"The regiments are coming, and Wickham will be among them. Isn't that wonderful!" Mrs. Bennet then turned to me, "Mr. Wickham is a wonderful man and a special friend of Lydia's."

Special friend of Lydia's? My thoughts were racing. Surely this could not be good. I looked around the table to gauge everyone else's reactions. Lydia was of course ecstatic and bouncing up, begging her mother to let her read the letter. Kitty seemed excited as well, but slightly more subdued. Jane looked happy for the girls, and Mary was indifferent. My eyes finally fell on Mr. Bennet who was looking very disapprovingly between Lydia and Mrs. Bennet. He finally sighed and picked his newspaper up again and resumed reading.

"Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice punctured the silence once again, "We must have Wickham over for dinner when he gets here. Oh, and the ball will be held during that time as well! He must be sure to come."

"Of course my dear," Mr .Bennet sighed.

I was suddenly annoyed. Annoyed at Mrs. Bennet for being so silly and overbearing and obviously training her daughters to do the same. And I was annoyed at Mr. Bennet for not doing anything to restrain them! If Wickham was everything Darcy said he was, then he couldn't be trusted at all. Mr. Bennet obviously wasn't fond of the idea of Mr. Wickham coming to dinner or the ball, so he must have some inkling. Why didn't he say anything? Had Wickham so brainwashed everyone with charm? If he was capable of taking advantage of a young girl and then leaving her, who was to say he wouldn't do it again? Lydia seemed quite eager at seeing him again and would be easy prey. I shuddered slightly, but decided to see what exactly everyone thought of Wickham before maybe saying something.

The next few days were tense, but things were slowly smoothing out. Mrs. Bennet was becoming more civil, and I had finally gotten Mary to play for me on her piano. She was quite good. I only wished that she had some lighter tunes to play rather than her hymns, but no mind. Having her play for me had been the right thing to do it seemed, for after that she loosened up around me considerably. I even saw a smile one day.

Jane and I didn't bring up the subject of our personal lives again, but rather stuck to lighter topics. It was easy to converse with her, for she was well read and sensible, and in many ways reminded me of Vivian and Charlotte. Sometimes being around her made me miss them, which of course would lead me to thoughts of Darcy and Georgie.

Finally, the regiments arrived in town and Mrs. Bennet swooped Lydia and Kitty off to "buy ribbons for the ball". Everyone knew that they were really on a hunt for Mr. Wickham. Jane and I were in the drawing room when we heard a carriage pull up and the unmistakable squealing of Lydia and Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet's shrill giggling. Along with them we heard a booming, masculine laugh. Mr. Wickham had arrived.

I sat quietly in the drawing room, in a chair in the corner. Wickham sat in a chair across from Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty, who were all on the couch. Mr. Bennet had beat a hasty retreat to his study, and I envied him. We could hear Mary in the dining room, playing scales on her piano. And Jane was in the kitchen helping the cook with preparing the weeks menu.

Kitty was prattling about the ball, and Mrs. Bennet was giggling over something. I noticed then that Lydia was completely silent and shot a quick look in her direction. What I saw did not do anything to lighten my spirits however. Lydia was looking at Wickham, and her expression was so sickeningly in love it was almost disturbing, especially considering the object of her affections. She and Wickham were looking into each others eyes and smiling. Kitty and Mrs. Bennet continued to talk, and neither of them seemed to take any notice of Lydia and Wickham, as they were both quite overly excited about the upcoming ball.

Finally, I could handle it no longer so I stood and made my way to the door. As I passed them, Wickham looked up at me, and I accidentally met his gaze. He looked at me curiously and then smiled. There was something in his smile that I didn't like. I looked at Lydia, but she was looking back and forth between the two of us, a frown taking over her previous smile. I hastily left the room before I gave Lydia yet another reason to dislike me.

Once out of the drawing room, I leaned against the wall and breathed out a sigh. I decided that the best way to seek answers would be to ask Jane. As I made my way slowly to the kitchen, I mulled over everything that was going on. The situation with Jane and Bingley was being to weigh on my mind, and I was still unsure whether telling Jane what I knew of Bingley would only cause her more grief or not. And then there was Wickham. Even though Lydia obviously did not like me, and my feelings for her were not exactly warm either, I could not just let her go along with Wickham. That course would surely spell disaster. But I had promised Darcy not to reveal my connection to him, so if I claimed to know so much about Wickham then I would have to reveal my source. And these people obviously didn't think very high of Darcy, so saying something may not even work.

Confused and getting more worried by the minute about what I should or shouldn't say, I banished it all from my mind and focused solely on figuring out Lydia's position with Wickham. As I settled myself to this course of action, I realized that I was meddling in the affairs of these people just as much as any local gossip!

I finally reached the kitchen and found Jane and the cook bent over the table, going over recipes and busily writing out the menu and a shopping list.

Jane looked up as I came in, "Lizzy! How wonderful to see you. Do you prefer duck or lamb?"

"Lamb," I answered immediately. I honestly prefered neither that much, but between the two lamb was definitely better. I found duck absolutely revolting.

Jane nodded decisively and then flipped to a certain recipe and continued discussing the matter with the cook and writing. Curious, I walked over beside them to see what exactly they were doing. I had helped plan menus before and was curious to see what was on the Bennets' and how they put it together. Each meal was straightforward and easy to plan and prepare. I took a note of it for my own meal planning when I returned to America.

These thoughts were so relaxing and calming that I almost forgot what I wanted to ask Jane. I waited until she was finished talking with the cook. During that time, I inspected the kitchen and signed inwardly in envy at all of the fine kitchen instruments they had. Full sets of mixing bowls, a small water pump next to a large sink, a beautiful cast-iron stove, and many cupboards and shelves to store all of the food and dishes.

Finally, Jane straightened up and said thank you to the cook, and came over to me. "You wanted to see me?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, "If it would not be prying too much, what exactly is the nature of Mr. Wickham's relationship with Lydia?"

"I do not believe it to be prying, but may I ask why you would like to know?" Jane cast me a curious look.

"Only that I have heard of Mr. Wickham before. And what I heard of him was not very good. I know I may be hasty in forming an opinion, but I am just curious and trying to piece together what I have heard with what is the truth."

"Mr. Wickham comes by quite often whenever he is in town, and I believe that he and Lydia could possibly come to an understanding soon. But at the moment, I am not quite sure of his intentions toward Lydia. I know that mama is hopeful though. But you did not quite answer my previous question, what exactly have you heard of Mr. Wickham?"

"Have you heard of Mr. Darcy?"

"Of course, he was a guest of the Bingley's at Netherfield about a year ago. Why?"

"I have on good authority that Wickham wronged Darcy a couple years ago."

"What nature would the wrong have been? Because there is a long-standing rumour in town that it was Mr. Darcy who wronged Wickham."

Jane seemed quite intrigued, yet her kindness continued to shine through when she said, "There must be some misunderstanding. I was acquainted with both gentlemen, and I do not see how either of them could have done such things to each other as the rumours say."

"What are the rumours?" I ventured to ask, but we were then interrupted by Mrs. Bennet, who announced that Wickham was to stay for supper and for the kitchen maid to set an extra place. She then called Jane away, and I was not able to receive my answer.

I wandered the house for a while, drifting from one room to another. I was searching for solitude to read one of my books, yet every room I entered, someone always followed me in and started talking and giggling. Kitty seemed tired of listening to Mrs. Bennet prattle to Mr. Wickham, and so she took to following me about the house. Mary, too, seemed to be seeking some company that didn't involve Mr. Wickham. I felt slightly sorry for the two girls, but I just wanted to read my book! I was tired of thinking and tired of forcing a smile and small-talk.

Finally, I managed to slip through the kitchen and out the back door. Once I was past the fence, I did something very unladylike: I broke into a run. It felt so wonderful! I hiked up my skirts, gripped my book, and just ran. Over the hill, through a small field, and all the way to a massive oak tree that sat on the edge of a small patch of woods. I looked around, it was a beautiful spot. It was quiet, peaceful, and nicely shaded, yet with plenty of light for reading.

I checked the tree for any kind of poison oak or ivy. Seeing that there was none, I spread my apron on the ground, settled down with my back against the tree, and began to read.

I wasn't sure how long I was out there, but I had gotten quite far into the book, when I became aware of someone approaching. I looked up and realized that a man was coming toward me from across the field. It was Mr. Wickham. I hadn't realized how tense I had become until he finally reached me and I forced myself to loosen up. What was he doing here? I couldn't help myself as I glanced around to see if anyone else was near us.

"Hello, I don't believe we were properly introduced before. I am George Wickham, and you must be Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Wickham made this pretty speech with a charming smile on his face.

"I am," I replied, and for some reason I didn't like his smile. He was almost too charming.

"What are you doing out here? I would think that as a Bennet, you would prefer the company of your sisters. Or are you more like Mary, preferring solitude to read? Please do assure me that those are not sermons you have in your hands," Wickham said all of this as he came closer and leaned against the tree.

I couldn't help but smile at his comment, but at the same time, he was making me uneasy. Under normal circumstances, this would be considered very inappropriate for a lady to be alone with a man.

"Mr. Wickham," I replied, "I am trying to read in peace. My whole reason for coming out here was so that I could read on my own," I was doing my level best to get rid of him politely.

As I looked at him, it suddenly hit me: this man was Georgie's father. I couldn't help but scrutinize his face, trying to see any similarities between him and his daughter. I suddenly and foolishly hoped that he didn't know what I was thinking and dropped my eyes. He wasn't taking my hint to leave though, instead began pacing in front of me.

"Where exactly in America are you from?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, I moved around quite often. I was usually farther west, but eventually made my way east."

"How interesting," Wickham flashed me another disarming smile.

I decided that now was as good a time as ever to try to extract information. "How long have you known the Bennets, Mr. Wickham?"

"Oh, quite a while now. It is a long story and I won't bore you with it."

"But I would love to hear it, seeing as you are set on not leaving we might as well talk," I said, hoping he would understand the jab.

"Well then, where should I begin?" He paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued, "Early would be as good a place as any I suppose. When I was a boy, my father worked for a man named Mr. Darcy. His son and I grew up together. Once we got older though, his attitude toward me changed. I had my head set on joining the church, and the elder Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the rectory before his death. His son though, out of spite, gave the living to another man."

I ducked my head to hide my frustration and anger. How dare Wickham tell me these lies! Not to mention that it had absolutely no relevance to how he knew the Bennets at all. He didn't have to mention Darcy supposedly cheating him at all. I was almost ready to give my firm opinion of what I thought of Mr. Wickham, when he continued.

"That being said, it was because of what Darcy did to me that I had to join the army so I wouldn't starve to death. I did go back to visit Darcy once though, or rather, visit his sister Georgiana. For you see, the two of us once had an understanding. The truth is that I loved her dearly. It was through her that I became acquainted with Lydia and the Bennets. Darcy did not approve of my seeing Georgiana of course, and the heartbreak from that caused her to come down with a terrible fever. She died soon afterward, and I have never been able to forgive Darcy for the misery he caused her by not letting us be together." He cast me a sad smile.

I had to forcibly swallow my anger at the pack of lies he was spouting.

Wickham continued, "My regiment arrived in town a little after the Bingley's, and it was at a ball that I was reacquainted with Lydia and the Bennets."

Deciding that I needed the information to know what kinds of lies I was dealing with, I forced myself to ask: "And what of Darcy? What happened to him afterward?"

"Well, after Georgiana's unfortunate death, he moved away to America. I do not know what happened to him afterward."

"How terrible," I ground out. I found that I no longer cared if he saw my anger or not, but realized that I did need to at least make a pretence at being civil. "Now Mr. Wickham, I am very sorry but you did interrupt me in the middle of my book.."

"Oh, of course. Please do forgive me. It was very nice talking with you, Miss Elizabeth," Wickham smiled once again and then he bowed low, turned, and began walking back across the field.

Once he was out of sight, I had to keep myself from screaming. I just wanted to go back home! I couldn't take this any longer. It was too much. I tried to banish all these thoughts from my mind and return to my book, but it was no use. I finally gave up and walked slowly back to the house.

Once there, Betsie greeted me at the back door, "A letter came for you, miss. From America."

A letter! I grabbed it from her hands and immediately knew that it was from Darcy. I breathed a quick thank you and then ran to the room I shared with Jane and shut the door. I quickly tore open the envelope and began reading:

My Dearest Lizzy,

I am very glad that you reached England and the Bennet's safely. I hope that their treatment and attitudes toward you have been civil, and I do wish for you to write and tell me everything. If they do become too much to handle, you are of course to come home immediately, if you wish it. But I urge you to stay for as long as you can. They are of course your family and you need to get to know them better. Everyone's families have their rotten apples, but you need to stick with them nonetheless.

You will be glad to know that everyone here is doing well, as am I. Georgie has started to try walking more often, and she is able to stand without hanging on to the furniture. She has also started talking more often, and even said your name a few times. I do believe she misses you, for trying to get her to go to sleep is not easy without you here.

Charlotte has been helping me with Georgie more often now. I didn't realize, until you came here,
how much Georgie needs a woman to take care of her, for I am not able to do the job correctly anymore.

I love and miss you, my darling and am torn now between urging you to stay there for awhile longer and begging you to come home immediately. I think of you every day and hope that you think of us as well.

With love,
William Darcy

I couldn't help the tears that came to my eyes as I read and reread the letter. I finally buried my face in a pillow and let the sobs come. Oh, how I missed them! But knowing that they were there and would welcome me home at any time made my stay at the Bennet's just that much more tolerable.

Hello once again! I have got to stop apologizing in every authors note! My beta says that it's becoming a bad habit. I know that I promised you another chapter sooner than this, but I do have a good excuse. I was going to write, when disaster struck in the form of pinkeye. I went on a trip with my family for almost a week, and was stuck in the hotel room the entire time. It sucked. Thankfully it's gone now though, and I am home and I can write.