Thank you for all the great reviews, they're really encouraging! This is a bit of a filler so perhaps not too significant but I hope you understand, I'll get Darcy back soon enough! I'll try to get the next chapter up mid week, please review, the reviews really spur me one!

Chapter Eight

The sun shone brightly, scattering light through the leaves of the tall trees lining the road, while the grass smelled sweet and the morning dew glistened in the rays of the light. Elizabeth had awoken early, excited to be making her trip to Jane, as she had missed her sister acutely these past few weeks. There was no other with whom she could share her emotions lately, and the turmoil she had been thrown into recently had left her longing to convey them as never before. She could not say what she was feeling; she knew she had been wrong to accuse Mr. Darcy of malicious intent in the attention he paid her at the wedding. She had laid such cruel recriminations at his feet, but she had been convinced that he was there to taunt her and demonstrate to Bingley what a poor connection he had just made. She could not have known that he had been the one to deliver her senseless sister and entire family from disgrace and save them from scandal and the censure of the world. He had been considerate enough not to mention the topic at all, even when Mrs. Bennet had been crowing over how she had two daughters married to such fine gentlemen. He had in fact tried to forge a friendship of sorts between them. "Although not without insulting me first," she thought, conveniently forgetting the provocation of said slander had emanated from herself.

She could not deny that his words had hurt her. He had pointed out every fault that she herself had faced over the years, when she already knew the deficiencies her family so openly portrayed. But to have it so eloquently stated to her and the charges laid so neatly at her door was more than she could bear and it brought her to the unwelcome realisation that, no matter how fervently she wished it not to be so, she actually cared that Mr. Darcy was alive in the world and thinking ill of her. She could not completely condemn herself for her own harsh words towards him, for at the time she felt them in full force and, in her opinion, had been fully justified in voicing them. She could, however admit that had she been less prejudiced in her view of the gentleman she may have been able to have an amiable conversation as it appeared he had tried to. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Hindsight is a wretched torment sometimes," she told herself.

She had hardly forgiven Mr. Darcy, or even really had any very profound change of heart about him, but she now knew that he was certainly not the villain Mr. Wickham had portrayed him to be and he was clearly a deeply devoted friend and responsible to a fault to have taken on Lydia's elopement as he did. In light of such developments, she could hardly maintain what ill-conceived ideas she had formed so early in their acquaintance, but he was still taciturn and disagreeable, arrogant, conceited, selfish... She stopped herself. "How have I come to be so very judgmental of him? Why on earth should I care about his manners? He was not truly as bad as all that, after all he did try to be friendly at the wedding. Surely he has attempted to redeem himself now, should I not allow him that chance? Or rather, I should have allowed him the chance..." She sighed, exhausted by her own whirling mind, and certain that her and Mr. Darcy were doomed to forever misunderstand each other. This musing brought up another question far more worrying than any before. What had he meant by her not understanding his opinion of her? He had seemed to feel so strongly about it, the way he had looked at her, such honesty in his eyes bellying the undertones of shocking vulnerability in his voice. She shook her head and gasped softly as a shiver ran down her spine at the recollection. No, she had not forgiven him, not for his ill manners or his bad choice of words at the wedding, but she realised that she could not find it in her to be angry, or even upset with him. Hurt, perhaps upset by it, yes. But she could not feel anything akin to hatred towards him and with his parting words he had been so... The effect of his touch on her wrist broke into her thoughts and she inhaled harshly at the memory of it, she shook her head to remove the thought from her mind.

She watched from the carriage as the scenery of Hertfordshire passed by. Elizabeth's new brother, Charles, had insisted on sending their most comfortable carriage for her so as to shorten her journey and make it as enjoyable as possible. Therefore it should have been easy, what with the plush cushioning and spacious legroom, for her to find sleep, but she could not. It was not, however, physical discomfort that kept her from rest, but rather how mentally perturbed she was by the situation that most occupied her mind of late. "Well, if and most likely when I see him again, I will endeavor to be perfectly civil." She knew she would have to offer some apology for her tactless words and, in truth, she felt that she should really thank him for what he did for her family. She groaned at the thought. Though she knew she could not avoid seeing him, what with his being as close to Bingley as she was to Jane, she could not help but wish that she could avoid any situation which would actually allow such a private discourse between them. This posed a problem as well as the solution for if she did not have to opportunity to speak privately with him, she would not have to apologies or give thanks, but this would make things very awkward indeed, including for Charles and Jane. "I suppose I could always drag him off to an empty parlour and lock us inside for the tete-a-tete." She laughed. Her feelings fluctuated so severely on the subject that she found too much thought on it was a drain on her energy and she soon fell into a rather fitful sleep.

~oOo~

"So Darce, all is not to your liking? Could it be a pilfering ladies maid running amuck, eh?" Colonel Fitzwilliam, being of a witty and jovial nature, nudged his cousin lightly.

Mr. Darcy closed the ledger he had been poring over and straightened, looking at his cousin seriously and said nothing.

"Oh, do try not to look quite so severe, man, you have been poring over that book of figures for these three hours past, I can hardly see what would hold you for so very long. You are usually finished within the week and gone faster than Boney's troops would run at the sight of Nelson." He chortled.

The truth was that Darcy had spent only thirty minutes of those three hours working on the books, the rest of his time he had spent in agonising awareness of the wound he was nursing and how something as minute as seeing the face of the new Mrs. Collins could reopen the gash through his heart. He and the colonel had called to pay their respects to the parson and acquaint themselves with his new wife, only to find that Mrs. Collins was Charlotte Lucas, one of Elizabeth's dearest friends. The unexpected sight brought on a wave of irrational hope that she might be there, which he promptly chastised himself for, but it was already too late, the hope and then disappointment was enough to throw him into deeper sorrow than he already was. He brought his attention back to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who stood before the desk with a questioning look directed at Darcy. "Forgive me, Fitzwilliam, I find my mind is still very much engaged elsewhere, what did you say?"

"I wanted to know what has taken you so long, Darcy. We've been here nearly three weeks now and you want to stay another full week extra? Good God, man, you usually escape Aunt Catherine's claws within a fortnight." The colonel said in jest.

"Yes, well I do have more to occupy my mind than just Aunt Catherine's finances," he said curtly.

The colonel's good nature and light sense of humour exerted itself, but not before he finished teasing his usually fastidious cousin. "Oh, ho? And what pray tell is it that can so deeply trouble the mind of the stoic and un-bending Fitzwilliam Darcy?" He said seriously. Darcy looked up and threw a glare at Richard that quelled his teasing somewhat. "Really now Darce, you've been even more miserable on this trip than ever, is there something I should know?" He asked now with concern for his friend. Darcy sighed and stood.

"Forgive me, Richard, I have no desire to converse at present." He closed the ledger and left the room, the colonel shook his head. He was worried for Darcy, he had not seen him in such a state since his father had passed. It was when Darcy could not create an effective solution, when he had to resign himself to some cruel fate that he behaved so. At Ramsgate he had been furious and, being a man of action, had put all to rights within a week, but when his father had passed there had been no way for him to fix it. Richard had sworn it was only the fact that Georgiana needed him that kept him going. He only hoped that it would be enough to restore his spirits again this time.

Darcy had been in low spirits for weeks now. He had returned from Hertfordshire some months ago in a black mood and then gone back for the wedding. When he returned to London again after Bingley's wedding, he was misery itself, at least before he had come back and been in a subdued sort of passionate rage, stalking around his study like a caged tiger and growling threats at anyone who challenged him for doing so. When he returned after the wedding, he was a bleak mess, sulking in his study when he was at home, it was clear he was enduring a personal war beneath the stoic exterior. He began to make calls with Georgiana and, possibly most shocking of all, he even received a lot of them. Usually he would take the knocker down for at least two weeks when he returned home and even when it was put back up he would claim work as an excuse to not receive. Richard had seen for himself the change in his friend and cousin. Darcy was an altered man, he talked more and, on the surface appeared to be an engaging and open sort of soul. But Richard could clearly see through the mask and was aware that beneath the gentleman's perfect manners and sincere gratuitous tone was, in fact, a pained and wounded man. He had tried to pry the truth from Darcy and find out what it was that was eating at him, but the gentleman simply demurred and blamed it on exhaustion from his recent exertions. Even Georgiana had not quite seen through the facade, so happy was she to have an increased amount of affection from her brother, but she did notice the pained expression he wore from time to time.

Darcy had been happy to escape the confines of London, and he had been making swift progress with his resolve to improve his social manners, but his success in the endeavor did nothing to quell the pangs of loss that so often overcame him. He was miserable in truth, though he did well to hide it from most, the loss of Elizabeth and the knowledge that he would forever need and never have her was unbearable. Darcy was not being false, deceit of any kind was his abhorrence. No, he was only kind where he truly wished to be, where it was deserved, and he did not suddenly become a pandering fool to every simpering dandy who crossed his path. He was still master of Pemberly and held every distinction that came with said title, but he made a notable effort to be more verbose and less critical and, to his surprise and somewhat dismay, he found that he liked it. He even found the surprised expressions of his peers humorous sometimes, the shock that suffused their faces when he said more than his usual few curt civilities would have amused him if he were not constantly wondering how Elizabeth would laugh at it. For no amount of good natured civilities or even warm conversation could make him forget that the only person he wanted to turn his new found charm on was someone who would take no pleasure from a civil conversation, or any conversation, with him. How fervently he wished that he had seen the error in his ways sooner, before he had gone to Hertfordshire, but he knew that he had needed Elizabeth to point it out to him in order to see it. It simply served as proof of how necessary she was to him. Not having her felt like suffocation at times, particularly when he dismissed any glimmer of hope his heart covertly engendered without his minds knowledge.

It was his cousin, one of his closest friends, who had seen through the friendly manners and social niceties. Richard had come upon him in his study, when Darcy had called again on Lady Matlock, Richard's mother, and Richard had become suspicious when his mother told him that Darcy had come with Georgiana to take tea with Lord and Lady Matlock. Richard wondered if perhaps something was wrong with Georgie and Darcy was looking for him. Upon entering the Darcy house, he made his way directly to the study, though he was not remotely expecting what he found. Darcy was sprawled in a chair turned mostly away from the door, his usually rigid posture slack, his head sunk as if in defeat and his crisply pressed jacket and cravat discarded across the adjacent wingback. He had a glass of brandy in his hand but it looked untouched. Darcy was not one to drink to excess so his cousin seriously doubted that it was more than his second glass, if that, his other hand was clenched into a fist and pressed firmly into the arm of the chair. When Richard silently crossed the room toward Darcy, he witnessed the unguarded vulnerability written in the man's face. Darcy hadn't even noticed his entry or his approach and continued to stare into the dying flames of the fire before him, as he felt the heat diminishing he realised that he must have been sat in this place for hours now, he closed his eyes tight, a pained expression suffusing his features.

It had felt like only a few moments ago that he had sat, willing his mind to relax but the only thoughts that wended their way into his mind were those he wanted to avoid. He had not the strength. Elizabeth was both the poison and the antidote, she plagued and graced his dreams, she was his malady and his remedy.

"Darcy?! Good God man, what on earth is the matter?" Richard had exclaimed.

Darcy's eyes flew open and he stiffened in the chair, arrested by the sight of his cousin looking down at him intently with concern and shock clear in his face. "What?! Richard, when did you arrive, why was I not informed?" Darcy adjusted himself and sat up straight "To what do I owe this visit?" He said more formally.

The colonel looked taken aback at his cousin's swift change in countenance and his immediate effort to direct questions away from himself, he brought one hand to rest on the back of the chair which faced Darcy's and let out a short laugh which intoned disbelief as opposed to humour. "I only just arrived and showed myself in. I came to enquire after you, as you've been labeled quite the socialite and I wanted to make sure that my good friend hadn't become a candidate for Bedlam, playing polite with the ton. I can see my concern was justified." Richard waved a hand over where Darcy sat, gesturing his current state was said justification. He spent the next hour in an attempt to draw Darcy out, but the man was a sealed vault, the progress he made brought him round to agreeing to accompany Darcy a week early to visit Rosings, believing perhaps he'd be more willing to converse after Lady Catherine had driven him slightly more mad than he already appeared.

And so here they were at Rosings park, Darcy having arrived with his new found affable air about him only to have it whisked away after a few days, when he had the shock of finding Elizabeth's friend ensconced within the parsonage and worst of all, he was forced to sit through his aunt's insipid and haughty nonsense. He prayed fervently that he had never sounded quite so bad as her. Eventually he was driven into a sullen mood and struggled to hide it, and though his aunt saw nothing amiss, the new Mrs. Collins and Colonel Fitzwilliam had been astute enough to note some disturbance about Darcy. Richard had tried gallantly to have his cousin talk and share a little of his feelings, but every time he attempted to draw Darcy out, the man would talk about the weather, estate matters or of the war! Richard was getting nowhere with him and Darcy seemed to be getting worse, fast.

When the day came for the gentlemen to depart, it was met with mixed emotions, mostly relief on the part of Darcy and the colonel, Lady Catherine taking the liberty of feeling (and expressing) their sadness on their behalf. Richard bid his adieus to his aunt and her daughter, Anne, before he stepped into the carriage after Darcy. "I cannot say I will miss Aunt Catherine quite so much as usual," he said jokingly. "After all, we did stay an extra two full weeks!" Darcy laughed slightly at this, his temper relaxing in the knowledge that he was departing his aunt's oppressive shadow.

"Yes, I will be relieved to be in London for a few weeks before returning to Pemberly," he said wistfully, "Will you stay at Darcy house for a time?" He asked his cousin, invitingly.

"Will you miss me, dearest?" The colonel said, affecting a coquettish tone and fluttering his lashes. Darcy laughed sincerely, he would miss his cousin, he may not have confided in Richard, but having someone with whom he could converse easily was a great relief.

~oOo~

"Lizzy!" came Jane's sweet call. Elizabeth had arrived earlier than expected, only to find both Bingleys waiting for her in the hall.

"Jane! Charles! How I have missed you both. You look so very happy, I doubt you have missed anyone at all, save for each other when you are in different parts of the house," she laughed.

"Lizzy, how is everyone back at Longbourn? Mrs. Bennet contacts Jane regularly enough, but we don't hear enough from you at all, my dear sister!" Mr. Bingley joined in. The truth was that Lizzy could not think what to write, she had already told Jane of the changes at Longbourn and updated her on everyone's endeavors as frequently as they changed but what more was there to say? Jane knew that should something of import occur she would be the first to hear of it, but Lizzy had little to write concerning herself.

She had been busying herself as of late with various hobbies and projects; she had learned how to take care of the household accounts to some degree, she had learned a great many new stratagems in chess, she had religiously studied some of the old Latin volumes in her fathers library and managed to read tomes which she had thought she'd never master and she studied some interesting political texts and updated herself on current affairs by reading her fathers discarded newspapers. The irony of studying politics was not lost on her and more than once did she find herself laughing as she wondered what a certain gentleman from Derbyshire might think of her hypocrisy. It still seemed, however, that no matter quite how much she filled her time, Mr. Darcy remained in her thoughts to some degree, causing her to fluctuate in and out of a host of emotions.

"Charles, I wonder that you should reprimand me for my lack of attention regarding my letters when you yourself once confessed to very poor consideration to correspondence!" She laughed feigning shock at her brother in law's light approbation. She looked at him warmly and then to Jane as she said "Oh how I have missed you. Both of you! I have been quite lonely as of late." She said.

"Well then my dearest sister," Jane began, leading Elizabeth through to the sitting room, "I fear you will be quite the opposite by the time we're through and rushing back to the quite of Hertfordshire, for we quite intend to take you everywhere this season!" Jane laughed. "Oh Lizzy, it is to be such a merry time with you here, I will not fear London society at all with you at my side." said Jane earnestly as a maid set down the tea things.

Elizabeth smiled sweetly, she had missed her sister acutely and felt that so long as she was with Jane, it mattered not where they were. She was about to say as much when Charles stepped forward. He looked a little awkward and shuffled his feet before he said, "Elizabeth, I hope you do not mind but... What with the season just beginning, and rather extensive number of balls and parties to attend, not to mention social calls, you will need, that is to say, I assume you would want," he stumbled over his words, "I have, after speaking with Jane, I have... and her agreeing to it of course... I have spoken to Mr. Bennet and asked that he might set aside a sum for you to spend solely on... Equipping yourself with... the necessary attire and whatnot." He swallowed hard as he blushed but looked at her steadily. It was not that he was frightened of his new sister, not at all in fact, but he was rather aware of her quick wit and fierce independence, and so felt that his generous but somewhat underhanded interference may be met with a little ire. She looked somewhat taken aback, she had, after all, only recently been helping her father with the accounts at Longbourn and knew the situation would not allow her enough for more than a few gowns and perhaps some lace and ribbons. She smiled anyway and told Mr. Bingley that his consideration was very kind and brotherly, but she would be content to have just two new dresses made up as that was what she had planned for.

Once again though Charles fidgeted as he looked to his wife for support of his cause. He did not worry that Elizabeth would embarrass the Bingley's simply for wearing the same gowns a few times, but rather, he wanted to revel in the innocent pleasure of walking into society with his stunning new bride and his very pretty and charmingly amiable new sister. Quite frankly, he was sick of Caroline's supercilious airs and Louisa's sycophantic fawning and constant compliance with Caroline's every whim, though he would never put it quite so plainly. No. He wanted to see Jane dressed in the most flattering cut of the finest silks and he wanted her to be happy on his arm. What's more, Elizabeth was to be entering the season as sister to the Bingley's and with her charming nature, her beauty and her easy ability to enter into conversation with anyone worth conversing with, Bingley was confident that she would set Jane in with the best of people about the ton and he wanted no impediment to those aims, especially not something as silly as the wrong cut of a neckline.

"Lizzy, I must insist. I have spoken with your father and he has agreed to a set budget... to which I intend to add my own sum and...I am to be in charge of the purchases," he gulped and wrung his hands behind his back. "Jane will of course keep me informed of all that is needed for I do not doubt you may demure somewhat, you are very modest and quite considerate after all and I..." He trailed off as Jane caught his hand. Elizabeth looked back and forth between the two, she was no fool and could only conclude that this was important enough to them that they should not only ambush her with it on her arrival but also press the matter when neither was of a very forceful nature.

"Lizzy," Jane began, "we would be truly grateful if you would accept this. Charles has quite made his mind up and I am looking forward to taking you to the modistes. I have been acquiring my own new wardrobe at the request of my husband and I so look forward to taking you now that you have come!" Jane smiled sweetly at her husband then to her sister she threw a pleading glance as if to beg she would not continue in her attempts to balk Bingley's generosity. Elizabeth was about to retort, a rather witty rebuke sitting at the back of her throat, when she caught Jane's mien. She could never deny Jane anything when she made such a strong attempt at getting it, and if it would make them both happy then she would hardly say no to being spoiled a little!

"Very well," she laughed. Bingley's expression lightened and Jane smiled prettily at Elizabeth. "I will allow you to waste silly sums on my decoration and you can flaunt my impertinent self about the society rooms of the ton." She said in a haughty air before she laughed and took a hand of each her brother and sister and thanked them most sincerely. It was hardly a concession when she was to receive such extravagant gifts, though it did grate on her conscience a little.

"Well Lizzy," Bingley said, eager to redirect the subject of conversation or at least extricate himself from it, "I dare say you and Jane will have much to discuss before the shopping trips begin on the morrow, I will see you both at dinner," he finished and then rose to squeeze his sister's hand and kiss his wife's cheek affectionately.

Bingley's prediction was not proven wrong, as the two women reviewed a list of already accepted invitations and planned evenings to the theatre, and they discussed several styles of gowns and the frivolous accoutrements that accompanied the fashionable frocks. It was several hours later that Jane and her sister emerged from the parlour after reacquainting as two sisters as close as they could be expected to do after so long a separation. They exited the room arm in arm and laughing earnestly as Elizabeth made a mockery of a fashion sketch of a particularly risqué cut of dress which was one of the latest trends. "Lizzy, you are quite wicked to have poked fun at all of the designs, we shall have to select some of these cuts before tomorrow morning if we are to have your gowns ready on time," Jane intoned.

"In time for Friday next you mean?" She asked in reference to the dinner party the Bingleys were to host in just nine days hence. "Jane, I do not see why you worry so about my appearance, I could walk in dressed as the Prince Regent and no one would glance at me so long as I stood close enough to your enchanting self. I think it is very fortunate that dear Charles does not suffer a propensity toward jealousy for, by the time your season is through, there will be no man in London who does not know of your heavenly beauty," she said as she smiled archly.

Jane blushed prettily but had little time to respond and admonish Elizabeth as Mr. Bingley had found his way to meet them and he smiled at the sight of his laughing sister and blushing bride before him. "I trust you have made some progress?" He asked. Both ladies laughed.