A/N: This week is going to be hectic and I will do my best to post another chapter. I'm almost finished with the novel, perhaps two or three more chapters, and then after I do some extensive editing (during this time my posting might be more sporadic) I'll dump a chapter a day until it is all on fanfiction. In my editing I'll will try to show more of D and E falling in love.

Thanks again for all the reviews! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 22

The next few months were a mixture of joy and despair. She received every attention from her husband and Mother, and Miss de Bourgh began visiting the Parson's wife, cooing over the baby and bringing her cakes and biscuits from Rosings. She received very little news about Mr. Darcy and his upcoming wedding, though from what she could understand Lady Catherine was mightily displeased and threatened to rain down hell fire upon the strumpet who had stolen Darcy from her own dear Anne.

Little Will began to grow into a roly-poly baby. Mrs. Bennet had stayed with her daughter six weeks after the babe was born, and reluctantly left for Longbourn, insisting she would return should Elizabeth need her.

One evening, after Elizabeth had handed Will over to Becky, the nurse, to put him to bed, she sat by the fire and took up her husbands paper. Mr. Collins had left that afternoon to attend to the dying Mr. Walcombe, a gentleman who lived on the other side of Hunsford, and had not yet returned. She gave a great sigh as she turned the paper over and there, in print, was the notification of Mr. Darcy's wedding to Miss Coleman.

She felt her heart clench within her chest, then slowly ease. It was done. Now they both were so irretrievably out of reach.

s-S-s

The green grass was wet with dew, and Little Will was determined to grasp the stalks of wet sprouts in his hands and bring them to his mouth. Becky admonished Little Will that grass was for cows, then propped him in the center of the patched quilt next to his rattle and cloth bunny. Little Will looked at such toys with disdain and once again began his migration to the edge of the blanket.

Miss de Bourgh laughed at his antics. "He is such a determined little fellow," she observed.

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, thinking he must have received that trait from herself.

The weather was warming and the two ladies were sitting on the wrought iron chairs that were a new addition to the Parsonage's garden, the matching table laden with lemonade, cucumber sandwiches, pies, and other treats, while Becky had the unending job of corralling young Master Will away from harmful grasses.

It was a curious friendship that formed between the two women, and would have been frowned upon by Lady Catherine if it had not begun at such a terminal time in Elizabeth's life. Once it had begun Lady Catherine found herself powerless to stop it, and simply rationalized that the wife of a Parson was indeed a good influence on her daughter, and eventually Mr. Collins would become part of the landed gentry. Mr. Collins couldn't have been more proud of the match, and encouraged his wife to often visit Miss de Bourgh, and for her to visit as well.

Elizabeth still met with Mrs. Cosgrove, though her son had accomplished what he had threatened to do for years and had left home to join the Army. She had mourned the loss of her son, terrified that one day a hallow knock would come at her door, delivering news of his death. Elizabeth tried to reassure Mrs. Cosgrove that many young men made fine careers out of the Army, and that soon she would see her son again.

In the meantime Elizabeth's main focus was that of her son.

"I think 'tis time for Little Will's nap," Becky grabbed the bawling boy from off the blanket, presented him to his Mother for a kiss, then took him into the house.

The two women sat in companionable silence, both having filled themselves with delicious food. Elizabeth noted that Miss de Bourgh's complexion had improved the last few months, going from a waxy hue to an almost porcelain white. Miss de Bourgh learned early on in their friendship that Elizabeth loved to walk, and if they were going to spend time together, some of it would have to be out of doors.

"Whatever is the matter?" Elizabeth gasped, noticing trails of tears slide down Miss de Bourgh's face.

"Oh, I suppose I am suddenly coming to the realization that I will never be a Mother," she sobbed.

Drawing herself closer to Anne, she grasped her hands in her own and gave them a squeeze. "Dear Anne," she said in a gentle tone, "does this have anything to do with Mr. Darcy's marriage?"

"No, yes, I don't know," she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I always knew he did not want to marry me, but Mother convinced me he would do his duty by me. When I heard he had gotten engaged Mother was livid. She said he would marry me if she had to drag him to the church herself." Anne paused to give a little chuckle.

"He is not coming for his annual pilgrimage, is he?"

Anne shrugged her shoulders, a most un-ladylike movement which would have resulted in a rebuke from Lady Catherine, had she been there to witness it. "I know he has written Mother, but she refuses to speak his name. Colonol Fitzwilliam is in the Americas, so he is unable to come."

"I wish..." Elizabeth stopped herself. She knew the great disservice Lady Catherine had done to her daughter. Though Anne was prone to sickness, it would not have prevented her from being presented at court. She had begun to suspect that Lady Catherine kept her home on purpose, for what reason she could not fathom.

"I wish many things as well..." Anne stated.

Soon after she bade her friend goodbye, called for the barrouche to be brought around, then returned home. Elizabeth remained out of doors, taking in the warm sunshine, eyes closed, enjoying the sounds of nature around her. Birds in the trees, wind in the grass, and the clip clop of a passing horse and carriage. The noises stopped. Perhaps Mr. Collins had returned from his rounds of visiting the sick and afflicted. She turned her head and was about to ask how his day had gone when she stopped.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Collins," called Darcy from the gate.

If Elizabeth had been standing she was sure she would have fainted away. As she was sitting at the time of seeing Mr. Darcy she merely felt a little dizzy, grasping the arm rests of the chairs lest she topple over.

Mr. Darcy made a motion towards the waiting carriage, then as it rode away he entered the garden and walked towards Elizabeth. He noted the small repast on the table along with the two glasses and plates filled with crumbs. He wondered who had joined his Elizabeth this afternoon.

"Are you well?" He asked, staring down at her.

She nodded her head, struggling for words. "Please, sit," she managed to say.

Darcy sat next to her and stared at her longingly, as a man stranded in the desert would stare at a glass of cool water, only this refreshing woman was no mirage. How he longed to touch her, even if to just grasp her hand within his, but it was day, and any number of people could see them.

"It is good to see you again," he smiled.

"I did not think you would come," she replied.

He chuckled, "I am only here for a fortnight to inspect the lands and the accounts of Rosings. I dared not bring my wife, for fear of how Lady Catherine would receive her."

At the mention of his wife Elizabeth felt as if she had been struck. She tried to compose herself, but the look on Darcy's face was clear that he had seen.

"Is Mrs. Darcy in good health?" She asked, hating that her voice faltered.

"Yes," he answered, "she is in good health. Georgiana and she are in town, enjoying the dances and dinners."

They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other, until they heard the fast clip of feet on the lane. Elizabeth turned her head to see Mr. Collins barreling down the lane, running into the gate, then quickly opening it. He looked about ready to shout something towards her, when he was stopped short by the site of Mr. Darcy. He gave a wobbly bow.

"Mr. Darcy," he cleared his throat, "I was just made aware of your presence in Hunsford. Thank you for deigning to stop by my humble abode. I hope my wife has made you welcome?"

"Yes," Darcy replied, "as always."

"Good, good," Mr. Collins stated. "Lady Catherine is expecting your presence," he finally said after Mr. Darcy made no move to leave.

"Yes," Darcy said as he rose from his chair, "thank you for your time."

How he longed to take Elizabeth's hand to his mouth and place a kiss upon her knuckles, but even he would not take such liberties while Mr. Collins stood staring. He made his farewells, then left through the gate, heading towards his Aunt's impending wrath.