1. FARCE

A/N: OK, no actual compromise attempts in the last couple stories so here is something for you. Sorry, no bodice ripping unless you count… well, never mind.

This one is much longer than the others (15k). In fact, it needs chapters. I could post it standalone, but it seems to belong in this collection.

Wade

"I absolutely will not participate in this farce."

The words were spoken with blinding fury, but (hopefully) not loud enough to bring even more shame on the family—as if it was not seeped to the gills in it already. The Netherfield Ball was in full swing, which meant Elizabeth Bennet's mother was engaged in full-throated blathering on about Jane's supposed upcoming betrothal to Mr Bingley and Elizabeth's to Mr Collins, Mary was either hiding or annoying people with quotes from Fordyce, Jane was being oblivious as usual, and the two youngest were running wild, though not as badly as she had expected.

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed menacingly. "Why do you think I chose this time and place to discuss this with you?"

Elizabeth looked at the man with a sneer. "I have no idea. I do not believe I even know you, Mr Bennet."

"Ahhhhh… so I am no longer 'Papa'?"

"No sir, you are not, nor shall you ever be again. How can you possibly think that I will go along with this corrupt scheme?"

Thomas Bennet looked harshly at his daughter with a fearsome scowl. "You will, because you must, Lizzy."

"Miss Bennet!"

"I beg your pardon."

"You shall address me as 'Miss Bennet' or 'Miss Elizabeth'. 'Lizzy' is for my family."

Thomas Bennet shook his head in frustration.

"Well… Miss Bennet—I shall answer your question. You will go through with this 'farce' as you call it because you must. I am only warning you because within the hour, you must decide whether to become Mrs Darcy or a shameless hussy who dragged all your sisters into the hedgerows with ruined reputations. The operation has already been initiated and you will play your part or suffer the severest consequences."

"But why? Why I ask you? Nobody does compromises anymore. It depends entirely on the gentleman's sense of honour, and I have no reason to believe Mr Darcy will countenance such a plan, nor treat me well if he does. He could walk out the door and return to his life with nary a raised eyebrow; or he could marry me and hide me away somewhere to live alone in disgrace. Why?"

"You underestimate the man, Lizzy… err, Miss Bennet. He will do what he must! I shall see to that."

Elizabeth looked around to see if there was any way to escape this debacle, and to save her the pain of looking upon the face that had been her one true guiding light all her life but had in the space of five minutes become the most malevolent.

"You still have not answered my question. Why?"

"I shall answer, but first let me ask you something. What is wrong with Miss Lucas and Jane?"

"Nothing!"

"Exactly, Liz… err… Miss Bennet. You assert that there is nothing wrong with either of those two ladies?"

"Yes!"

"You will agree that Charlotte Lucas is a perfectly attractive woman, intelligent, practical, reasonably talented, with good wifely skills, excellent common sense, fair accomplishments, and the only one who calls her plain is your mother, because she competes with her daughters?"

"Yes of course!"

"And will you concede that Jane is, by the current fashion, probably the most beautiful woman in the area, reasonably intelligent, with a pleasing personality, fair accomplishments, good conversation, the ability to manage children and servants well, and run any house properly?"

"Yes."

Bennet stepped a bit closer and whispered, "Then perhaps you can explain to me why those two perfectly lovely ladies have been in the marriage market for a combined 17 years, and yet neither has ever entertained a single proposal, nor even a courtship."

Elizabeth just stared at him with her mouth open in shock.

"Add you and Mary to the lot, and we have 25 years of courting with nothing to show for it but some bad poetry."

Elizabeth started breathing fast and sweating. She felt what appeared to be a hand squeezing her heart and tears coming to her eye but eventually got her balance back.

She leaned in until she was a foot from his face and snapped, "Perhaps it is because all of us are saddled with silly mothers and lazy, indolent fathers who do not see to their duty. We all have NO dowries to speak of, few men to choose from, and very little time in Town to try to fish in a bigger pond. Most of the boys we grew up with left this backward place to make their fortunes, or they have been dragged into that endless quagmire on the Continent. Our parents make little effort to promote us or contact old university friends or business acquaintances for introductions. Perhaps, it is because our fathers' entire strategy seems to be based on standing around waiting for lightning to strike."

Mr Bennet leaned back and smirked. "Well said, Miss Bennet. That is exactly the problem."

Taken aback, Elizabeth asked, "So how does that connect to this heinous crime you are deluded into thinking I will participate in? Why not just do any one of the things I just mentioned?"

"Because my dear… Sir William and I agree with you. We have both allowed our wives to see to the marriage of our daughters, as is traditional, and they have failed miserably. You can choose which of your parents gets the lion's share of the blame, but we are where we are. Neither of us are spring chickens, you know. My estate is entailed on that strutting peacock over there, and Sir William is not so flush as to require his son to take care of his daughters all their lives. We made a reasonable assessment and decided to take matters into our own hands."

"And this is your grand plan? THIS! A compromise! Well, I say again, I will not participate in this farce. I shall go to Charlotte and put an end to it right now."

Bennet chuckled mirthlessly. "Do you think me so ignorant I would not anticipate your every move, Elizabeth… err… Miss Bennet? Miss Lucas is the mastermind of the plan! Why, only this morning we had a long discussion about whether she should be Mrs Darcy or Mrs Collins. After weighing the options, she decided she preferred a malleable husband to great wealth, would rather NOT be a member of the first circles, and thought Mr Darcy would choose you over her anyway—so Mrs Collins she shall be."

Elizabeth gasped in shock, looked over at what she thought was her best friend Charlotte, and saw her former best friend look at her carefully, and nod her head.

"Do not think anything so foolish as asking for help—from Charlotte or anyone. She is going to cleave to you until the moment arrives. She will give you room to contemplate your fate in honour of your long friendship but do not try to escape the net. She is as determined as we are."

"So, your plan is to solve your problems by shackling me to Mr Darcy and Charlotte to poor Mr Collins?"

"Yes, that is our plan. Mr Collins will not do any better than Charlotte anyway, and he is too foolish to be allowed to choose his own wife. He would destroy Longbourn within a decade, left to his own devices. I believe he even has the poor sense to think you might become Mistress of Hunsford Cottage."

"I would die first," Elizabeth said with asperity, then snapped, "I shall go to Mr Darcy and tell him right away! He will not allow it."

"No, you shall not!" Mr Bennet snapped, then more softly added, "I have taken the liberty of making sure a footman is very close to him at all times. His instructions are clear. If you approach within a dozen yards, he will simply begin immediately. Nothing will change except the timing and the chance you might be injured in the operation will be doubled or trebled—not that I would let that risk stop me, as you are tougher than you look. He is of course not a real footman, but a retired soldier and bar brawler."

He pause dramatically. "You will be married, whether you can stand up to take the vows or not, whether you require a veil or not. You might consider shouting at the gentleman across the dance floor if you are willing to completely ruin any chance of matrimony whatsoever for yourself and your sisters."

"Mr Bingley, then."

"He has yet another footman similarly engaged. He has his own role to play. Jane is tired of subtlety. Seven years is a long time to be unattached, and men like Mr Bingley need a bit of prodding. At five and twenty, he has not yet decided if he is boy or man, so it is time for a bit of enforced maturity. That gentleman is to be Jane's reward for helping us, and frankly, he will be the better for it anyway. If you get within ten yards of her, she will start the operation herself. It has all been planned carefully, down to the last detail."

Elizabeth looked around desperately. "I will just leave."

Mr Bennet chuckled. "To where Miss Bennet? If you are counting on that twenty-seven pounds, 1 shilling, and sixpence hidden in your room, you are to be sorely disappointed. There is not a farthing to be found in Longbourn, presuming you are even let in the door, which you will not. My instructions to the servants were crystal clear. And that presumes you manage to identify all my confederates and avoid them on the way out. I have well over a dozen, all with clear instructions that none of my daughters are to leave the ballroom for any reason."

Elizabeth gasped and stared at him harder.

Mr Bennet's voice became even harder, and he leaned to within a foot of her face and spoke with iron in his voice. "I will assure you of one thing. Miss Elizabeth Bennet will never cross that threshold again. The only way you will ever be welcome to Longbourn again is as Mrs Darcy."

Elizabeth started feeling desperate. "I will not do it! I will throw a screaming fit right here in the room, and then run out into the night, or perhaps I will just swoon right here and right now."

"Do that and I will tell everyone within hearing that these things are to be expected when a woman is high in the belly, and furthermore make it clear that you were compromised by Mr Darcy during your stay at Netherfield. The outcome will be the same, but neither you nor your husband will ever be completely respectable again."

"I will find a way to escape this room if it is the last thing I ever do."

"Well, if you do, enjoy your life of penury, as you will never be welcomed in Longbourn again, nor will you ever receive another farthing from me or anyone else in your family, nor even a reference for employment. You should also comprehend that both of your uncles are of a like mind. They do not look forward to supporting a gaggle of spinsters."

Elizabeths looked around desperately, and everywhere she looked there were enemies. Sir William was looking at her with what could only be considered a malevolent glint, an expression she would have thought him incapable of. Jane stood demurely latched onto Mr Bingley and stared at her intently, not paying the slightest attention to her erstwhile suitor.

"I have two armed footmen on every door, interior, and exterior, under the employ of myself and Sir William. They will use force if necessary. You will not leave this ballroom or make a fuss. This plan will come to fruition within the hour. Decide whether you wish to live in penury, cast out from your home, and condemning your mother and sisters to a life of shame and degradation; or whether you can eke out some measure of happiness as one of the richest women in England, bound to a taciturn but honourable and handsome man, in one of the most magnificent mansions in England. Think carefully, Miss Bennet. The choice is upon you."

With that, Mr Bennet walked away to allow his daughter to come to terms with her fate.

2. ALTERATION

Elizabeth wandered around the room in a daze feeling her life was over. She moped disconsolately for several minutes and then started thinking furiously, coming up with and discarding one plan after another. She walked towards Jane and Charlotte, but both gave her looks that frightened her to death. She tried to find Mr Darcy, but she found him across the room hiding out as usual in front of a stone wall, with a footman just a half dozen paces to the side shifting his gaze between Elizabeth and the gentleman, and the refreshments table blocking her from the other. She looked towards the doors, but never saw a view that did not have at least one, and more often two or three, footmen between her and the portal. She had no idea which footmen were in her father's employ, presuming he was not lying.

She was startled by an overly loud question. "What in the world has you in the blue devils, Lizzy?"

She shook her head to clear it. "Papa is trying to ruin my life, Lydia."

"La, what is he going to do?"

"He and Sir William are planning an elaborate triple-compromise. Me to Mr Darcy, Jane to Mr Bingley, and Charlotte to Mr Collins."

Lydia scrunched her face. "I daresay Mr Darcy is fearsome handsome and rich as Croesus. Are you sure it is such a terrible plan?"

"How do you think he will treat me… presuming he acts as a gentleman and marries me in the first place?"

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, Lydia seemed to give it some real thought. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father giving her a reproachful glance, but he did not seem to think his youngest and silliest daughter was any threat (with good reason).

Lydia finally said, "I suppose since he does not find you handsome enough to even dance with, he will be very unhappy. Is the plan why all the footmen look more like brawlers?"

"I am astonished you noticed, Lydia."

"I am smarter than you give me credit for, Lizzy. Who in the house gets her way more than anybody, including Mama?"

Elizabeth had to admit her younger sister was correct. Nobody liked her methods, but you could not doubt their efficacy.

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, her younger sister seemed to go deep in thought. She half-expected to smell smoke.

Lydia finally almost shouted, "I HAVE IT!"

"Keep your voice down!" Elizabeth hissed.

Lydia caught her glance toward Mr Bennet, and for once in her life, heeded her sister's advice. "I know the answer. I shall be the hero of the night. Who would have ever thought I could be a heroine."

Elizabeth stared at her in confusion. "How?"

"I will marry Mr Collins, of course."

Entirely flabbergasted, Elizabeth asked, "I thought you disdained clergymen?"

Lydia shrugged. "I always wanted to be the first married, and Mr Collins is no better or worse than any other man. I could be mistress of Longbourn, Rosings sounds very fine, Lady Catherine sounds like someone I can play just like Mama, and can you imagine any other way the youngest of five penniless daughters would become mistress of an estate or marry before all of her better-educated sisters?"

Elizabeth sighed. "At the moment, I do not see how the eldest can wed without cheating, so you make a good point."

"Mr Collins is not particular. He just wants to marry one of us. He has only been here a week, so he can barely tell us apart anyway. He only picked you because Mama told him Jane was taken and you were second in line."

Elizabeth saw her father staring at her, and thought she needed to protect herself. She said quietly, "Say something loud and annoying so Mr Bennet does not suspect us."

Lydia did as bid, and attention briefly centred on them before everyone turned away, no doubt thinking, 'It is just Lydia,' which would ordinarily be true.

"You realise you will be a parson's wife for twenty years before you are mistress of Longbourn?"

Surprisingly, her sister gave her a serious look. "I will make a good parson's wife. You do not think so, but I will, and Lady Catherine sounds like a hoot. I will have her wrapped around my finger inside a month. And let us face facts… none of us are all that marriageable. The officers are fun, but I recently learned most of them are poor as rats, where Mr Collins has a good living already. I will be kind to him, but you know full well who will be in charge."

Elizabeth was dubious, but not necessarily opposed to the plan.

"If you explain it to him quickly, and he agrees, you need to make a lot of noise and spectacle… enough for me to escape. Big, even by your standards."

Lydia just snorted, which Elizabeth assumed meant she was perfectly capable of it.

With some trepidation, she watched her youngest sister lurch over to Mr Collins, and start speaking intently. She had no idea what Lydia said to start, but she managed to shock the man into failing to bow or carry on endlessly. In fact, the man looked very confused, then alarmed as he stared at Charlotte and back to Lydia, who continued speaking too softly for Elizabeth to hear.

Before the night's events, Elizabeth would have assumed any man would be tempted by Lydia's beauty (which, to be fair, was equal to Jane's), but possibly swayed by Charlotte's practicality. Of course, she had yet to see any evidence of a man being swayed by practicality on any subject whatsoever, so she judged Lydia's chances were good. Mr Collins wanted a Bennet sister, did not seem particular about which, and one was serving herself up on a platter.

She stared in nail-biting trepidation, glancing back and forth between Lydia and Mr Collins, Mr Bennet, and Sir William. The two masterminds seemed to be worrying about the recent development, and both were making their way towards the maybe-couple with unseemly haste.

Lydia, much to Elizabeth's surprise, managed to bring Mr Collins to the point faster than she would have thought possible. She must have said something quite convincing, as the parson nodded eagerly and smiled hugely.

Before either of the evening's leaders got within twenty yards, the new couple lit out for the centre of the dance floor at speed, with Lydia dragging her hapless paramour all the way.

3. ESCAPE

Fitzwilliam Darcy was standing near a window with his back to it when he heard a commotion on the dance floor. At first, he thought it must be a drunken reveller, with too much access to the spirits table. Such an occurrence was always distasteful, but it was best to become accustomed to them. They were frequent enough, and it was not as if his own cousins were not often among the disruptors, or in fact, leading them. He never was because he was very eligible and not suicidal.

He was astounded when he saw the peculiar man who had arrived with the Bennets get dragged onto the floor by one of the younger sisters—he thought perhaps Linda? Larissa? something that started with an 'L'. His jaw nearly dropped to the ground, as the man made the loudest, most obnoxious, most indecorous proposal in history. It fell the rest of the way to the floor when she accepted and kissed him within an inch of his life, right in the middle of the dance floor. In consequence, the room erupted in wild applause and back-slapping laughter fit for a drunken brawl in a dockside tavern with a dozen navy ships at port.

He could see Mr Bennet approaching at nearly a run with thunder on his face and could not blame the man. It was the most absurd proposal he had ever heard of, but it was certainly effective. Perhaps, the man wanted to ensure permission from a father who had a different outcome in mind?

He was just about to go and see if there was anybody sensible somewhere else in the house when he heard something very unexpected.

"Mr Darcy… listen carefully! Do Not Turn Around! Just listen! This is important!"

He stood stock-still like a statue and glanced around to be certain nobody was within hearing. "Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes sir. Please, do not speak—just listen."

"I am at your disposal, madam."

He heard what sounded like a sigh, but he could not be certain, then he heard the most unexpected thing he could imagine.

"There is a plan afoot to compromise you into marriage… tonight… within the hour. That spectacle you just witnessed was a diversion so I could slip away, but it will not last long. I could not in good conscience fail to give a warning. You, Mr Bingley, and Mr Collins are targeted. I have rescued my cousin in favour of a better, choice of wife, as difficult as it is to believe. I hope that warning you will be sufficient to allow you and your friend to escape. It is the best I can do. I have no idea if there are more victims planned, nor do I know the exact form the compromise attempt will take. I only know it involves quite some number of soldiers turned footmen and a lot of planning. I would expose the whole thing loudly and publicly, but that would ruin my innocent sisters more than the guilty parties."

Darcy was astounded. "Who would do such a thing?"

He heard what sounded like a sob. "My father and Sir William. I beg you, sir! Please get Mr Bingley away from my sister and watch your own back. I have no idea how much time you have, so I recommend you work expeditiously."

"Who was to be my intended bride?"

He heard the sobbing continue, and wanted to turn around to offer comfort, but thought that could just as easily lead to compromise as redemption so kept his eyes forward.

Finally, she said, "ME! My father wants to shackle you to me for life."

Darcy was shocked… well, perhaps not shocked, as this would have been the third compromise attempt that he knew about. He stood stock-still, trying to absorb all that was happening, but quickly recovered.

"Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? Are you safe? Have you been harmed? Is there aught I can do to help you?"

He heard a few sniffles. "I am as well as might be, after learning the man I loved and trusted all my life was just a mirage. Your concern is touching, and I very much appreciate it. You need not worry—just stop the scheme! My father and Sir William are the villains responsible for the debacle, but Charlotte Lucas and my sister Jane, at the very least, are complicit. You may trust my three younger sisters, but no other Bennet or Lucas. Please be careful but take definitive action with alacrity. You have very little time."

Darcy thought for a few moments and then looked around the ballroom with a new comprehension of the undercurrents. Miss Lucas was looking around in some consternation, quite obviously searching for someone with a ferocious frown on her face; and contrary to his expectations, Miss Bennet was doing the same, not even pretending to pay Bingley any attention. She had abandoned him altogether to join up with Miss Lucas and Mr Bennet. Several of the footmen were acting peculiar as well. He had his shadow who seemed to be always near but did not act quite like a footman. It was all so obvious once the solution was handed to him on a plate. The man looked much more like a foot-soldier than a foot-man. He did not move right, and he definitely had some kind of weapon hidden in his livery.

After ascertaining that there was no immediate danger, he kept his eyes forward and responded to the lady who may well have saved him some distress.

"Miss Elizabeth, while I find compromises thoroughly reprehensible, being married to you would not be such a terrible fate. Come out and let us brave the danger together and set things right."

He waited for her to pull herself together… and waited… and waited… and finally spoke.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

…

"Miss Elizabeth?"

…

"Miss Elizabeth?"

…

"! FIRE !"

He was not sure if he regretted panicking when he smelled the smoke and felt a flame just a couple feet behind him. The yell was pure reflex, and it scattered the dancers like dust in a strong wind (if dust screamed like banshees.)

With every dancer heading for the exits in a panic, Darcy (belatedly) calmly evaluated the problem and called a nearby footman who was not really a footman to help. Between them, it took less than five minutes to pull down a small set of burning drapes and put out the admittedly minor fire.

By then, most of the dance floor had emptied, and most of the dancers were in the entry hall, frantically calling for their carriages.

Darcy had a quick word of warning with Bingley about the dangers they were facing. He warned Bingley to distance himself from Miss Bennet and keep his valet and a well-known footman within a few feet at all times for the rest of the night. After setting up his protection, Mr Bingley went off to calm down his guests.

Darcy followed his own advice by calling to his valet and coachman who had been in an anteroom watching the dancing, while he went looking for Miss Elizabeth. The faux footman tried to follow him, but Bingley gave the man clear and unambiguous directions that he could not ignore, sending him down to the kitchens.

Darcy looked around, wondering just how far the knowledge of the imbroglio should go. Obviously, both of the Bingley sisters had to be kept in the dark. They would spread the word to every corner of England within the hour, and he hoped Bingley would keep his wits about him.

Mr Hurst was a drunk and not much of an accomplice, but he knew all the Netherfield footmen since he frequently put upon them for food or drink. Darcy asked him to find all those that he did not know personally and send them out to do something-anything to keep them out of the way. Miss Elizabeth was dressed in a ball gown and dancing slippers on the 26th of November, so she was not going anywhere without at least better clothing. He did however suspect that if the lady did manage to escape the house, she would be right in her element, and she could escape anybody outside just as well. He would not put it past her to walk to London if the weather was better.

The housekeeper, Mrs Mason joined him just a few minutes into the quest, with her chatelaine. She was a clever woman, a housekeeper for many years, who had seen it all, done it all, and was surprised by nothing. She neither desired nor would accept details, and Darcy was convinced not a word would escape her lips. Her help hastened the process considerably, but still produced no results.

A good hour of searching the entire mansion from servant's attics to the kitchen turned up precisely nothing. Miss Elizabeth had vanished like a ghost, and not a single person he trusted to ask seemed to have any idea where she went. Not a single person he could find could recall seeing her even fleetingly since just before the Collins' betrothal. Naturally, the people he did not trust were not asked, and those that were asked were cautioned to secrecy.

With the noise and bustle of all the carriages lining up, it was very easy for Miss Caroline Bingley's lady's maid to walk out the side door towards the stables. She was carrying Miss Bingley's lesser valise that was used for short trips. It was packed with a few spare maid's dresses, one of Miss Bingley's plainer day dresses, as well as undergarments and relatively practical shoes, a few pounds that her mistress kept in the suite for bribes, and some maids' livery.

With a great sigh, the maid said to herself, 'Miss Bingley is right… this is quite a savage society.'

She pulled Miss Bingley's warm coat tighter about her body to ward off the late November chill, and with another sigh and nary a look back, Elizabeth Bennet slipped off into the Hertfordshire night.

4. CONSULTATION

"A young lady wishes to speak with you privately, madam, but she refuses to give her name. She says you will recognise it, and she possesses information that will be important to you."

Lady Catherine de Bourgh did not like the sound of the request, but on the other hand, she was not particularly busy right at that moment.

"Show her in," she said, not liking the sound of it, but liking an unknown lady skulking around her estate even less.

A few minutes later, she saw a young lady of perhaps twenty, dressed in a morning gown that was of high quality but did not quite fit. She surmised it was borrowed but could not detect the reason. The lady was a pretty enough young thing with an air of mystery but seemed harmless, so she dismissed the servants.

"Thank you, Lady Catherine," the young lady said with a curtsy. "My name is Elizabeth Bennet. I presume you know the name."

Lady Catherine looked carefully at the young lady. "I suppose you are one of the Bennet daughters my rector is courting."

"More or less, madam. I am the second, though I have been disowned by my father."

Startled, Lady Catherine sat up straight and replied sternly, "For what offence, might I ask?"

"I intend to tell you, as I believe the offence is to your benefit and I hope to collect on the debt."

"Out with it!"

The young lady drew a deep, nervous breath. "My father, in league with another gentleman, crafted an elaborate plan to force three compromises in one night. The two that concern you were one with your rector, Mr Collins, to a lady I once thought my best friend, one Miss Lucas."

Lady Catherine sniffed, "Would this lady be an acceptable mistress of the parsonage?"

"I believe so, or at least she might have before she got desperate. You see, she is seven and twenty and just wanted a husband. Had they succeeded, I imagine she would have been a good enough parson's wife, but I could not stomach taking a man's choices away, even if he is not the astutest man I ever met."

Lady Catherine snorted. "All right, your implication the plan failed indicates Mr Collins is safe enough… but it can in no way explain your presence, without your father's permission. Pray continue!"

With a great sigh, Elizabeth barely whispered, "His plan was to force me on your nephew, Mr Darcy."

Lady Catherine startled and sat bold upright in her chair to stare at the lady.

It took several moments for her to regain her composure. "Are you to assert that you declined to be attached to my nephew?"

"I did. I would never force myself on a man… and besides —" she trailed off, looking as if she felt she overstepped.

"You may well get it over with."

She sighed and frowned again. "Mr Darcy and I do not get on at all. The first night I met him he called me not handsome enough to dance with… nay, not handsome enough to even tempt him. After that, we spent six weeks needling each other. His friend, Miss Bingley denigrated me nearly constantly, and he seemed to agree. I overheard him say none of the Bennets were likely to marry any man of consideration in the world."

She stood up straighter and looked Lady Catherine in the eye. "I also heard rumours that brought his honour into question, though they were unverified. I thought the chances of him leaving me high and dry were better than average, and even if he did marry me, I had no guarantee he would treat me well."

"You said you would not question my nephew's honour, and yet you did so twice in one sentence," the lady replied with some fire.

"Would you have accepted such a fate?" Elizabeth replied with equal heat.

Lady Catherine sighed and rubbed her head. "I cannot say, as I never had a choice. My father arranged my marriage, and I expected no different."

"Was it an undesired match?"

"Not in the least. My husband and I got along well enough, and he desperately wanted an alliance with my father."

"So, not the same thing."

"No, I suppose not," Lady Catherine said and thought a moment more.

"How exactly did you escape the trap?"

"My youngest sister convinced Mr Collins to propose to her—noisily—which caused a moment's distraction, and then I lit some curtains on fire."

"You did WHAT?"

"Be at ease. It was a small curtain on a stone wall. There was no real danger of it getting out of hand, and Mr Darcy was ten feet away. I doubt the fire lasted three minutes."

Lady Catherine just stared. "You refused to marry my nephew and lit a curtain on fire next to him."

"I did."

Lady Catherine chuckled, and then surprisingly gave a good belly laugh. "Did you explain things to Darcy?"

"Briefly."

"Did he thank you for saving him from the parson's noose?"

"I did not stay long enough to discuss it."

Lady Catherine nodded. "May I ask him about it?"

"As long as you do not reveal my location. I am still under my father's authority for six months."

The lady nodded. "What do you expect from me? How shall I pay the debt?"

"Find me a position. I could be a governess, or even a tutor for young men. I have a better boy's education than girls, or I could be a companion. I am quite personable."

Lady Catherine gave the matter some deep thought. "I have a better idea."

"Which is?"

"I shall find you a husband."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked in confusion.

"Exactly what I said, but allow me to expand on the idea."

Lady Catherine paused a moment to ring for tea, and then moved them to a table where they could enjoy it. By mutual consent, they spoke of her background and accomplishments while they waited.

Once the tea was served and the butler withdrew, the lady said, "Do you know what every mother wants?"

"According to my mother, they want all their daughters to be disposed in advantageous marriage."

"That much is true."

"My mother is occasionally right."

"Not all mothers, but many, would like to enjoy presenting their daughters for a season in a fashionable place."

Caught off guard by the non sequitur, Elizabeth said, "My mother dreamed of it, but my father hates town, and we were never especially flush anyway."

Lady Catherine chuckled. "That is common. What is less common is for a lady of my station, with all the money in the world, and an eligible daughter to fail to do so."

Elizabeth scrunched her head. "Why not?"

"The ostensible reason is my daughter's health would not allow it."

"I heard she was engaged to Mr Darcy."

"Yes, that is a convenient fiction I have promoted for some years. The truth is that I never expected him to go along. I have only kept the rumour going these years because it cuts down on the matchmakers trying to compromise him."

Elizabeth stared in wonder. "Is he aware of this plan?"

"Of course not! He mostly considers me a crazy old bat. He is a terrible liar, and abhors deception, so knowing about it would not work to his advantage."

"I see. Is your daughter actually of ill health?"

"Not really. You see …" then she sighed dramatically. "… when she was young, her father spoiled her abominably, and also forbade me from taking her in hand. She learned to manipulate him early on, and by the time she was twelve years old, she had convinced everyone but me of her ill health. She maintains the ruse to this day."

"So, she is not suffering from ill health?"

"No… she suffers from laziness—nothing more."

Elizabeth's eyes stared in surprise, but then she laughed. "You wanted to present a young lady to society, but she denied you the pleasure."

"Exactly! I need a young lady to present, and you will do nicely. As you said, I owe Darcy a debt and it seems a good way to repay it."

Stunned by the turn of events, Elizabeth asked, "What will happen with Rosings?"

"It is actually Anne's. She inherited on her last birthday but has steadfastly refuses to either take up the reins or marry so her husband will. She thinks I will run things forever."

"But you do not intend to?"

"Not in the least. It is time for Anne to grow up. We have a good steward, and Darcy comes by twice a year to make certain things do not go too awfully badly. She will have to grow up fast, but she never will if I keep propping her up."

"I obviously see no fault with the plan. It is far more than I deserve."

"Excellent! Let us begin. I wish to be gone within the week. I will tell Anne what we are doing tomorrow. For now, you are probably fatigued and I certainly am. Let us rest for an hour then have dinner. We have much to discuss."

With a hearty laugh, Elizabeth asked a footman to fetch her few meagre belongings from the stage stop and went to meet her destiny.

Dinner mostly comprised a thorough interrogation about her life, her preferences, and her accomplishments. Elizabeth thought it would have been intimating and intrusive if it were not obvious the lady was simply polishing up her weapons for the hunt.

5. BATH

Elizabeth gasped at the number of attendees at the Pump Room in Bath, estimating it at five to ten times the biggest crush she had ever seen. She thought she could add every person from her last ball (except Mr Darcy, of course) to the room and nobody would notice. She tried her best to not look too much like a country bumpkin but doubted her success.

Lady Catherine looked around as if she were the queen and they her courtiers, while Elizabeth wondered how a woman managed to obtain such presence. Perhaps, being raised the daughter of an Earl had its advantages she reflected ruefully and thought she should have chosen her parents with more care.

Lady Catherine led her over to a large bound book and explained its purpose.

"This is the subscription book. It grants us access to the common facilities, and lets people know we are in town. We will put our names down so any acquaintances will be aware of our presence, and I shall use it similarly to see if I know anyone here."

"Is it wise to use my own name?"

Elizabeth was not overly surprised they had overlooked the question in their mad dash to dress her suitably for attendance with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. They had naturally started by donating Miss Bingley's day dress to the ragman. She found herself surprised that Lady Catherine allowed her to choose her own styles and fabrics, though she steadfastly refused to allow her any hint of how much the operation cost. She simply said she was nearly as rich as Mr Darcy, and she could spend her money as she chose.

"What are the chances someone in your family will see the subscription book in Bath?" the lady asked with a smirk.

"About the same as them bursting into flames."

The lady chuckled, showing she was far better humoured than Mr Collins implied. "We will put you down as Miss Elizabeth B. and introduce you as my distant relative. Nobody will notice any name save mine anyway."

Elizabeth nodded, thinking that even if she was caught, she could escape again easily enough. If she did manage to attract a suitor, she would have enough to explain as it was without lying about her very name.

Lady Catherine perused the book for some time and asked her charge to write down a few names in a journal she carried with a pencil usually employed for dance cards.

Once she had a dozen names, they left to go wander about the room. While Elizabeth had been given the impression by what little of Mr Collins's discourse she absorbed that Lady Catherine rarely left Rosings, she did in fact encounter a surprising number of people she knew well enough to stop and chat. Most were of Lady Catherine's generation, which meant they had a chance of possessing second or third sons to dispose of. She knew for a fact she had no chance of a first son, and based on those she actually knew, she considered that a benefit. She thought being the wife of an attorney like her Aunt Philips or a tradesman like her Aunt Gardiner would be just fine, though a soldier or clergyman would be less to her liking.

They spent the first week mostly acclimating themselves to the environment, taking the (vile tasting) waters, having tea, and occasionally dancing with gentlemen. Lady Catherine gave a good summary of all those they met in those first days, indicating they were in no way suitable for her, and they were aware she was in no way suitable for them. The whole purpose of the exercise was for her to see and be seen, while Lady Catherine evaluated her dancing to see if she would need to engage a dancing master.

The second week led her to the uncomfortable conclusion that her dancing was fine, but she definitely needed a pianoforte master if she wanted to exhibit with any credit. Lady Catherine hired a master who had missed his calling in the army. He drilled her relentlessly and made her practice as much as Mary. Surprisingly though, it only took a month until she could grace a musical evening credibly and was allowed to relent slightly.

All along, Lady Catherine was introducing her to mostly unsuitable men as she got her bearings. They did all the things ladies were expected to in Bath, such as taking the waters (which never got any better), attending assemblies, promenading, attending church, and making social calls. Between all the society and work on her accomplishments, Elizabeth had never been so busy in her life. At times she was frustrated with the relentless, nearly frantic pace; but most of the time she was happy to learn she had no time whatsoever to fret endlessly about her father's betrayal and her future. They attended the theatre and opera, and she had never been so entertained in her life, while Lady Catherine attempted to appear stoic but obviously enjoyed it just as much.

Naturally, all of those activities showed Lady Catherine the obvious paucity of her charge's wardrobe, so more abuse of Rosing's coffers was called for. The shopping for new clothing was tedious beyond belief, but a necessary part of the endeavour if she wanted to present herself creditably. She complied without complaint because she did not wish to embarrass her sponsor. She desperately hoped she did not end up as another Mr Collins.

At the start of February, the lady indicated it was time to start meeting eligible men. She told Elizabeth in no uncertain terms that she was in no hurry, would not allow anything akin to a quick courtship, and no man would be forced on her. If she did not find the right man that season, she was welcome to reside with Lady Catherine until after she reached her majority and try her luck in London during the next season.

6. ELIGIBLE MEN

Lady Catherine pointed to a handsome man a dozen yards away and whispered, "Mr Whitlock is thirty, heir to an estate about double your father's, Oxford educated. While his father does not have one foot in the grave, he certainly has a toe."

Elizabeth giggled a bit, as she did whenever the lady surprised her with a witticism.

"My friend, Lady Margaret is walking this way. She can introduce us."

Elizabeth found Mr Whitlock an amiable man on first introduction, particularly since he had the good sense to ask her for a set that was forming. He was dressed well but not a dandy. He was handsome enough, and young enough to just barely be considered in suitor range.

The man turned out to be a skilled and energetic dancer. He conversed well and easily on several subjects. All in all, he seemed a good sort of man, for as much as one dance could tell her. They spent a half-hour conversing after the dance before he had to leave for another previously bespoke set.

"Well, Elizabeth… what do you think?" Lady Catherine asked at the end.

"He seems eligible enough for me. I have been assuming a second or third son was my lot. I am not entirely certain how I feel about marrying an heir who does not really have any occupation."

"No need to fret about that now. For the moment, I suppose he will call, or he will not. If he does, then you will have plenty of time. There are more where he came from."

Mr Whitlock called within the week, as did Mr Pembroke and Mr Yarborough; although the latter two only called once, and apparently only out of politeness.

Mr Whitlock spoke well and elegantly, and Elizabeth enjoyed his company.

After his third call, Lady Catherine asked, "What do you think?"

It took Elizabeth some time to work out what she thought, as it was clearly in her best interest to be as forthcoming with her benefactor as possible.

"He seems eligible, but… something is not quite right."

"It will help you if you can identify what specifically bothers you, and if it is something you can overlook."

"I could certainly overlook it if I had to, but —"

Then she had to think longer to put her finger on it. Lady Catherine helpfully opened the book she had been reading, though whether she actually read anything was difficult to determine.

"I suppose I am bothered by his relationship with his mother. He speaks warmly of her, which is to his credit, and he obviously respects her immensely—also to his credit, though entirely out of my personal experience," she said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"And this is bad?" the lady asked curiously.

"Not bad per se, but …" then it hit her. "… I get the impression that he respects and defers to her a bit too much. He did not say so outright, but I have the feeling he will inherit while that lady has a good number of years left, and a sneaking suspicion he would wish the lady to remain the de facto mistress."

Lady Catherine frowned. "My mother-in-law was dead when I married, which can be good or bad. She could have been a good source of advice or could have been a meddling tyrant. You never know."

Elizabeth sighed. "One thing I do know is that I prefer my men to be full-grown when they marry. I suppose a second thing is that an estate can only have one mistress."

"I agree… hence my recent abandonment of Anne. She was happy for the one mistress to be me."

"I like the man… but…"

"No need to say more. I will see that he is dissuaded."

"How?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Leave it to me. The good thing is I have learned something of your preferences: no meddling mother in laws."

Elizabeth had to laugh gaily at that… though she could not disagree.

"What think you of Mr Gifford," she was asked after a dance the next week.

Nearly bursting with frustration, she stormed, "He boasted that he has not read a book since university… BOASTED!"

Lady Catherine chuckled at her reaction, then asked quite seriously. "I presume this means you want a well-read gentleman?"

"Of course… who would not?" she asked in confusion.

"Most women, to be frank. I think most would be rather indifferent, and in your father's case —"

Elizabeth saw where she was going. "If he did not lock himself in his bookroom all day every day, he might not have had to attempt an eleventh-hour compromise to rid himself of excess daughters," she replied bitterly.

"Precisely! I was curious how much you might want a man with certain traits like Mr Bennet. You must admit that you yourself have seen both benefits and drawbacks from your unconventional education."

"Yes, I suppose so," she said with a sigh. "Given a choice, I would prefer a man with at least some head for science and literature, as well as being up on the latest news and advances in estate management. We will be together for decades, and it would be nice to have something to talk about at the end of the day or on long winter nights."

"That is good to know. Not all women aspire to such. I could name you quite a few who think the less time spent with their husbands, the better."

"I am not one of them. I doubt my parents speak a hundred words to each other in the course of a day, and most of them are arguments."

"I suppose we need to thin the herd a bit then, since we want a man who is both well-educated and wants a wife who is. Each of those requirements eliminates a good deal of men."

Elizabeth frowned in frustration, as she was not entirely certain there was such a man in London society. She would have been distraught, but then it occurred to her that if her father had bothered to look for such a woman, he would have been much happier, and probably subsequently a better father. Where there was one, there must be more. She just had to find a man more or less like her father but without his deficiencies.

"How was Mr Merton?" the grand lady asked a few weeks later.

"I will admit that I love dogs and I like nice carriages, but if I hear one more word about his hounds or his curricle, I may well scream."

Her friend laughed: "No obsessions!"

"Not at all …" Elizabeth said with a laugh. "I expect my husband to have a great number of things he is interested in that I am not. I will eat all the pheasant or fish he wants to bring in, and happily promenade around our estate in his phaeton; but spare me the rod or gun, along with the hours-long stories about the hunt."

Lady Catherine laughed. "Boys will be boys, but I presume you simply mean the man should be able to get through one dance without boring his partner to death."

"Exactly! Perhaps, even two!"

"Noted," the great lady said with a laugh, apparently enjoying herself tremendously.

"I got a letter from the steward at Rosings," Lady Catherine said in mid-March.

Elizabeth had met several more men, and found many of them fairly suitable, but Lady Catherine always told her to take her time and be certain. None had survived the gauntlet so far, although she had several that would do in a pinch.

"What did you learn?"

"Much to my surprise, Rosings has an effective mistress again after all. It seems my plan worked."

"Why are you frowning and looking confused? You frown often enough, but you are never confused."

The lady laughed at her impertinence. "Because, as far as I can tell, the mistress is Mrs Collins."

"WHAT?" Elizabeth asked in shock, jumping from her chair before she realised she had nowhere to go and no particular reason to leave.

"Apparently, Anne's indolence matches or even bests your father. Oh, she is acting the mistress all right—but most of the real decisions are made by your sister. They are apparently thick as thieves, but Anne seems to have adopted your sister Katherine's place."

"Have they burned the place down yet or driven off the tenants."

"That is the strange thing—and hence, my confusion. Mrs Collins, contrary to both our expectations, has shown herself to be far more astute than we give her credit for. She listens to the steward carefully and 'advises' Anne, who always seems to take the advice. She has been visiting the tenants in the guise of the parson's wife, but it serves the same purpose as when I visited them myself. In fact, according to the steward, she is much better at it. She knows every tenant and every child by name. The families treat a visit from her like a holiday. It is astonishing, really!"

Elizabeth stared in wonder, then briefly considered whether it was some elaborate joke. The only argument against that thesis was that Lady Catherine never joked and Elizabeth doubted she could pull it off.

Eventually, she decided she might have to return to Rosings for a fortnight to see what was what, but since things seemed well in hand, and Lady Catherine was not particularly worried, she thought there was no pressing need to borrow trouble.

She did wonder if Lydia had been hiding her light under a bushel all her life, just waiting for a chance to prove herself. It seemed unlikely, but stranger things had happened. Perhaps, marriage and responsibility were what she had needed all her life.

"Will you satisfy my curiosity?" the lady asked as they enjoyed a night at the opera.

"Always."

"We have thinned the herd quite a bit. I wish you to examine the box directly across from us—the one with the woman with a blue dress."

Elizabeth looked across and could easily see the aforementioned booth. She could clearly see everyone in the box, including a soldier and four gentlemen, so she nodded.

"Disregarding everything else, tell me which gentleman is the more handsome."

She saw that it was a bit of a challenge, as all the men were exceedingly fine of face, all showed what looked from a distance like amiable expressions, and all were chatting agreeably with their companions, with nary a Darcy-scowl among them.

She finally said, "I suppose the soldier would strike my fancy the most, if he discarded the uniform. The idea of following the drum has no appeal."

"Ah… tall, dark and handsome," Lady Catherine said with a satisfied smile.

"I hardly can have invented the preference, and I honestly do not care so much. For example, if Mr Collins managed to speak half as much and with perhaps a bit more sense, I would have found both him and his position perfectly acceptable—as my sister obviously did, much to my surprise."

The lady chuckled, "He apparently speaks and eats considerably less now."

"My sister again?"

"Indubitably," she said with a laugh.

They settled down to the opera, and she never spared another thought about the relationship between height and handsomeness. Considering her goal was to find the right sort of man, she reckoned that should not be even listed in the criteria. A man of five feet who met even half of her other criteria would be more than acceptable.

She was painfully aware that Lady Catherine had used her previous answers to 'thin the herd' as she said, and there did not seem to be all that many cattle left. If not for the fact that Lady Catherine gave every indication she would be happy to continue their task for a year, she would have been very concerned.

"Mr Hargrove …" Elizabeth began, but then had to stop when the maid brought the tea service. It was just as well, as she was not certain what she wanted to say.

She prepared the tea, and they sipped it for some time, idly chattering about this and that. It could well have been an ordinary conversation around tea in Longbourn.

Finally, Lady Catherine asked, "Mr Hargrove?"

Elizabeth sighed. "He was not direct, but not precisely subtle either. I got the impression he was sniffing around to find out about …"

"… about… about what?"

Blushing, Elizabeth said, "About my dowry… or lack thereof. I believe once I appraised him that I was a very distant relative and my dowry was nothing to boast of, he lost interest quickly."

Lady Catherine sighed. "I wondered how long that would take. I suspect half of the men you have been courting assumed you were at least somewhat wealthy. I am curious though —"

"About?"

"Why do you assume I will not supplement your dowry, or why have you not asked, considering the magnitude of the favour you did in rescuing my nephew. I do not comprehend why you do not feel yourself due a bigger reward. Asking for five or ten thousand pounds would have been a reasonable request."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I was not thinking of saving Mr Darcy when I stopped my father. I was thinking more of myself. You are giving me a hundred-fold what I believe I am due. I could not ask more and would decline if offered."

"I suppose you have some pride."

"Slightly less than your nephew, but some," Elizabeth replied with a laugh.

The grand lady shook a finger at her like a naughty child, and they laughed together for some time.

7. EASTER

Elizabeth was slightly melancholy at Easter. The services were enjoyable, with a rector who gave a fine sermon. In fact, it was better than what she was accustomed to in Meryton, and probably far better than Mr Collins' (though who knew with the newly improved Lydia Collins—he might devote the sermon to bonnets for all she knew).

In the end, she thought that even though Lady Catherine was everything she could ask for in a companion, the holidays made her realise how much she missed her family. She missed the Jane she thought she knew before the Netherfield ball, and wondered if that Jane had ever existed or was a figment of her imagination. She missed Mary's pedantic and frequently nonsensical digressions into Fordyce which was always good for an amusing non sequitur. She missed Kitty and wondered how a shadow got along without her sun. She missed what she had thought her father was, and to be honest, she even missed her mother's overblown histrionics. For certain, she would have lost all of that when she married regardless, but she would not have spent nearly four months without a single letter.

She considered asking to visit Rosings, but did not want to put the responsibility of hiding her on Lydia when she only had another month to go before she reached her majority, and Lydia sounded quite busy as it was.

She wondered what she would do once her father no longer had any power over her (or any responsibility).

Lady Catherine seemed to understand the pensive mood, and even shared it. Elizabeth wondered if the lady repined the loss of her daughter, even though it had apparently happened years ago. She wondered if she missed the comforts of Rosings, or regretted her decision to give up the power she could easily have wielded for a few more decades. She wondered if the lady fretted about what she would do once she had Elizabeth safely off her hands, though she could obviously take care of the rest of them if she was bored, or she would always be welcome in Elizabeth's home and could make a good substitute grandmother figure. Lord knew, with her own mother, her children could use a better influence.

All in all, it was a bit of a dismal holiday. They had a lovely dinner, but both went to bed on Sunday evening out of sorts to some extent.

After the doldrums of Easter, they decided a small holiday from their holiday was in order. They briefly considered going to Wells or Bristol, but in the end, they decided to simply stay put. They limited their outings to the circulating library and lazed around for the next week. Elizabeth still did daily walks in her accustomed circuit in the park, and occasionally met gentlemen she was familiar with. She would stop and speak politely, then move on. None were of any particular interest, but she was on friendly terms with most.

On the 9th of April, she returned from her walk to find Lady Catherine waiting. Though the lady was good at hiding her feelings, they had spent four months together, and Elizabeth thought she could read her well enough. It seemed like she had some news she was anxious to deliver.

Lady Catherine did not spend much time on niceties but got right down to business.

"I have been reviewing my list of the attributes you desire in a husband," she said without preamble, holding up a sheet of paper.

Elizabeth was neither surprised nor unsurprised to find the lady had a written list. They had been at it for a while, and writing it down certainly made sense.

"Have you drawn any conclusions?" she asked pensively.

"I have."

"Care to share them?" she asked nervously.

"Certainly! As we discussed, as I learned more about you, we have been thinning the herd. I believe I have the perfect man… or at least the last man standing after we winnow the wheat."

Elizabeth laughed nervously. "Are you planning to tell me about this lone survivor or continue with agricultural analogies?" she asked in an attempt at humour, though it mostly fell flat.

"Enough impertinence from you," this lady replied with a chuckle. "I have found THE man who meets all your greatest desires. He is seven and twenty, so neither too old nor too young. He has already inherited. His mother is dead, though you would have loved her anyway. He has only one sister, but you will love her instantly. He graduated with top honours from Cambridge and would smite your father like a worm in an intellectual debate. He has a great library but continues adding to it. He enjoys the masculine pursuits, but not to excess and feels no need to blather on about them. He drinks only occasionally, and only under the goading of his irascible cousin who should know better. He is, admittedly, rather taciturn and tends to stick his foot in his mouth on a fairly regular basis, but the right wife will set that to rights. He is the most honourable man I know. He is perfect!"

Feeling excited, she asked, "I am all astonishment! When will I meet this paragon?"

"Right now," said a distinctly masculine voice.

"MR DARCY!" she squeaked in shock, which was somewhat embarrassing, but he deserved what he got.

She looked over to see the man enter from the small library their lodgings boasted, looking admittedly more handsome than ever. Elizabeth wondered how much of Lady Catherine's ode to masculinity and eligibility was true, and how much he had overheard.

"Miss Bennet. Well met," he said with a respectful bow which she returned with a sloppy curtsy, still shaken from the encounter.

She looked back and forth between aunt and nephew several times, wondering what in the world was happening.

She finally forced herself to focus on one of them. "Is this a trick?"

"Yes and no," he said without a hint of the condescending attitude she expected. To be fair, after the Netherfield ball she should have expected gratitude at the very least, but she had never truly amended her thinking about the man since her mind was otherwise occupied. He was just a man from her past.

She had absolved him of his worst offences when Lady Catherine gave her an object lesson on the perils of listening to a snake in the grass like Mr Wickham—but all that had really done was move the man back to the disagreeable state he had been in when she observed that she had never been so happy to leave a place in her life as Netherfield Park at the end of Jane's illness when he sat with her in the library for a half-hour without speaking a word. She expected him to be marginally more cordial after she saved his neck, but no different in essentials. That, in her humble opinion, was probably as fixed as the tides.

She realised her mind was circling around her eyeballs, so she finally said, "Pick one."

He chuckled and gave her a small smile. Much to her surprise, she realised she had seen something like it when he looked at her back in Hertfordshire, but always assumed it was a smirk. Could she be incorrect (perish the thought)?

Lady Catherine saw the conversation flagging and suggested, "Let us sit. I am not as young as I once was, and tea always helps solve awkwardness."

They all knew a lifeline when they saw one, so they took a minute to get seated.

Once there, and taking their tea, Elizabeth gave Mr Darcy a look indicating she was still awaiting an answer.

He seemed to think about it for some time and finally said, "I shall start with the no. This is not a trick. As my aunt so graciously alluded, I present myself to you as a suitor, with the hopes that you may eventually forgive my many trespasses of the first six weeks of our acquaintance. I do believe I meet all of your criteria, save the fact that you do not actually like me. I hope to improve your opinion enough for you to consider my suit."

She stared at him in stunned disbelief until Lady Catherine kindly reminded her to close her mouth.

She finally said, "I am not even handsome enough to tempt you!"

"The stupidest couple dozen words ever spoken. I regret them deeply and apologise wholeheartedly."

She once again looked back and forth between them. She found Mr Darcy nervous enough to pass for her mother, while Lady Catherine looked as unperturbed as if she was bored with the proceedings.

She finally said, "I suppose I shall forgive you, sir, but you should acknowledge that those words would be crushing for most ladies."

"I most certainly do. I was entirely in the wrong and beg your pardon with all my heart."

She sighed. "All right, we are done with that. Tell me about the yes part."

He looked slightly embarrassed. "I fear that you escaped one male matchmaker only to get caught up in the machinations of another—though probably not in the way you will immediately think."

She was glad he said the last, because her first desire was to bash him in the head with the teapot, an action she still might eventually employ with her father.

"Explain yourself!" she said grimly.

He sighed. "When I became aware of my aunt's designs with you, I may have mentioned my reaction to the failure of your father's plan."

"Which was?"

"Disappointment," he said with a sigh, then looked at her, apparently to gauge her reaction.

She was exceedingly confused. "You were disappointed your hand was not forced? You make no sense, sir."

He chuckled. "I was disappointed that I would not be obliged to marry you."

She huffed in frustration, so he carried on.

"At the time, I was completely smitten with you, but due to what I have been taught all my life, I believed I could not offer. Dunderhead that I was, I thought I needed a woman of the first circles with the appropriate dowry and connexions to 'properly' carry on the Darcy legacy. Your father's scheme would have swept those concerns away."

"I still say you make no sense."

He slid forward in his chair and put his hand out. She stared at it for some time, and finally allowed him to capture one of hers, though she could not for the life of her explain why she allowed the minor impropriety.

"Now we get into the machinations. I wanted to give you the power of choice, and I wanted to give myself the same thing. I asked my aunt to introduce you to eligible men so you could choose with your eyes open, and I spent the same time seriously thinking about what I really wanted. I also spoke to my cousin, my sister, and obviously my aunt. I wanted to contact you two months ago but she cautioned me to wait until you had more exposure."

Elizabeth looked to Lady Catherine, who seemed to understand what she was not quite accusing her of.

"I was not choosing unsuitable men for you just to make my nephew shine, Elizabeth. While I was husband hunting for you, I gave it my best effort. I wanted you to realise what a treasure he is on your own, but not at the expense of limiting your choices as your father tried to do."

"The realisation escapes me at the moment."

"That is hardly surprising," Darcy said softly. "You have had a minute to overcome six months of well-deserved prejudice while I had months. If you think you cannot ever overcome it, or my offences were too grave, I will never speak of it again. If you think I might suit, then all I ask is that you allow me to court you properly. I ask for no more than you granted those other men when you met them in the pump room."

She thought about it for only a moment, and wondered why she was being so squeamish.

"Very well. You may call on me …" she said boldly, and then impishly added, "… AFTER you obtain permission from my guardian."

They roared with laughter, and Elizabeth found she might actually enjoy provoking the taciturn man from Derbyshire.

When you got right down to it, he had a nice laugh and she looked forward to provoking it again.

8. COURTSHIP

The rest of the day was spent in the most awkward conversations of Elizabeth's young life. By some unspoken agreement, they avoided the topic of their actual courtship and Lady Catherine went along. Instead, they discussed the news of the past months.

Lady Catherine had quite a lot more to tell Darcy about Rosings than she had shared with Elizabeth to date. She wondered if the lady had held back because she thought Elizabeth would not be interested, or in her more cynical moments she assumed the grand lady had been planning this exact meeting for months and wanted to have some ready-made topics of conversation. Either way, she could not really fault her patron, and she did find the discussion of Rosings in general and Lydia in particular fascinating.

She spent some part of the afternoon wondering why she had not been more curious about her sister. As the first to be married, Elizabeth thought she should have been fascinated but was not. In the end, she suspected she found the break with her father just too painful to contemplate discussing it with Lydia, or even with Lady Catherine. Not only that, but her sister had not exactly gone out of her way to make herself agreeable for the previous decade, and Elizabeth imagined she still had some residual resentment.

She found herself stunned to realise she wanted to discuss it with Mr Darcy! How extraordinary.

In the middle of dinner, she abruptly asked, "How are the Bingley's, Mr Darcy?"

He took his sweet time chewing the piece of meat he had just put in his mouth. Elizabeth thought it must have effectively been gnawed down to nothing when he finally spoke.

"The Hursts are as they ever were, and probably ever will be. Hurst still drinks too much, and his wife still acts as her sister's shadow. —

"Miss Bingley still has the mad idea she will eventually wear me down, so she is much as she ever was. I doubt she will give up until I am safely married."

"I smell prevarication."

He sighed. "I should give you some history. Bingley has always had his type. Everywhere he went, he fell half in love with a tall, willowy blonde. Your sister was one of several. Most such beauties in London have more in common with his sister than yours. He always lost interest after a few weeks, or the ladies lost interest in him. He is a good object lesson in picking your lady for her beauty."

"I wonder if Jane knew that," she asked curiously.

"I am certain Miss Bingley made her well-aware of it before the ball. I suspect that may have been part of her motivation for what she did. Nobody wants to be just one more in a long line of blonde beauties."

Elizabeth frowned hard enough to crack walnuts, but finally admitted that might be true.

"Well, I am happy I rescued him… though I am not entirely certain I think very well of him in the end. He does not seem to be overly constant or burdened with an excess of good sense."

Darcy chuckled, which surprised her. "No, he has not. That said, I believe he learned something that night, both about your sister's character and his own."

"Oh?" she asked, interested despite herself.

"As it turns out …" Darcy said, then tortured her by cutting one more piece of beef and chewing it into nothing.

He eventually continued, "… Bingley was quite enamoured with your sister. He was seriously considering making her the last in the long line… but…"

She resisted the temptation to smack him, and he continued while he was at least temporarily out of her brown books, though his temptation to prevaricate was obvious.

"… but his only worry was that she was too nice, not unlike himself. He thought she might not be resilient enough to tackle his sisters, or even to help him keep his nose to the grindstone. She blithely ignored many-many provocations and insults to her family and appeared to still think highly of his sisters. Bingley thought that level of complaisance boded ill for someone who needed to be able to deal with them effectively."

She gasped. "Please, tell me this is not heading where it appears to be."

"Alas, I cannot. Once he saw that Miss Bennet had a spine and was willing to fight tooth and nail for what she wanted, he was perfectly content. We shall see if Mrs Bingley reverts to her earlier incarnation or rules the roost with an iron fist. At the moment, I am betting on a second Bennet sister with an iron fist. He has insisted on an extended courtship, but I strongly suspect it will end in the usual fashion sometime in the summer."

Elizabeth stared at him in astonishment, and then back at Lady Catherine who was laughing nearly hard enough to cry, then back to Darcy again. She finally let out a burst of laughter simply because she could not work out any more sensible response to a man sticking his own leg into a trap and pushing the lever deliberately.

As it turned out, Mr Darcy had visited Rosings for must of the previous month. He had not done much other than watch Mrs Collins run the parsonage and Rosings itself with ruthless efficiency. He had to wonder where she had learned the skills, but eventually gave up and accepted it as just one of those things.

The day after their reconciliation, he outlined all of that for the two ladies as they visited the opera. This time she saw the same lady across the way, and the same soldiers. She had to reflect that the poor man paled in comparison to her own suitor and wondered why she thought so. The soldier had certainly been handsome enough a month earlier, but now he was of no interest whatsoever.

Elizabeth thanked the fates she was not starting a courtship under the watchfully hysterical eye of her mother, or the satirical and judgmental eye of her father; but they still faced the problem that both Mr Darcy and Lady Catherine were well-known figures, even in Bath. It was not as bad as courting in London but bad enough. She had no wish to appear in the London papers before she was more comfortable with the man. She no longer despised him, and even thought she might like him but wanted whatever they had to proceed at a proper pace.

The gentleman appeared to comprehend her problem without her having to articulate it, which was certainly in his favour.

"I collect you would like to be a bit more subtle in our courtship than present circumstances allow," he asked the morning after the opera.

Obviously, attending one opera with his aunt and her ward would not raise any eyebrows. A second or third would.

"You are more astute than I gave you credit for," she said quietly.

He smiled at the closest thing to a complement she had ever given him.

"Suppose we go on a small trip. We could go to Bristol to see the ports and take in small entertainments. We could go to Bradford which has an interesting history back to Roman times. Wells is reputed to have a stunning cathedral I would like to see. If we do not dress in the first stare of fashion, we can probably visit all of them without being recognised. I typically abhor deception, but I believe the situation warrants it.

Lady Catherine asked, "How is it deception to wear your second or third best on holiday?"

Darcy chuckled. "I was thinking of obtaining significantly worse than that. Miss Bennet dressed perfectly adequately back in Hertfordshire, and I could dress more like a Bennet or Gardiner than a Darcy."

Lady Catherine seemed to have an instinctive aversion to the plan, but finally agreed that needs must. She did however assert that an ancient chaperone need not descend to such trickery, and they agreed with alacrity.

It took a week to obtain the necessary clothing, but then the three set off in a hired coach with only a couple of servants to see what fate had in store.

In the end, nobody paid the slightest attention to the modestly dressed couple who could be anything from siblings to a courting couple to newly married. Nobody knew, and nobody cared.

While it may have been a slight violation of propriety, Lady Catherine mostly stayed in her lodgings with her books and let them wander to their heart's content. After all, the worst that could possibly happen would be an advance of what she considered inevitable.

For her part, Elizabeth also suspected the wedding was a foregone conclusion, but she still wanted to get to know the awkward man she was likely to bind her life to.

One she penetrated the bluff exterior she found much to admire. As promised, he could keep up and surpass her in literature. It was no surprise since he had been gifted a Cambridge education that was denied her, but he never rubbed her nose in it. When they disagreed, he promised to give her the reading material she might have missed that supported his point, with the understanding that there might well be a rematch after. He was also gentle and kind to everyone she met, and with a Herculean effort, she recalled that he had been kind to the servants even back in Netherfield.

The discussion about his sister and her nearly crippling history took an entire afternoon, and he found himself very grateful when she said taking the child under her wing would be her greatest pleasure.

In the true fashion of a terrible novel, they found themselves trapped under an awning by rain one afternoon, and the first kiss that inevitably followed was not the least bit terrifying nor terrible. In fact, truth be told, it was quite nice.

The one that followed demonstrated that at least a part of her desperately yearned for the comfort of the taciturn man. Of course, he was no longer the least bit taciturn with her—and in fact, she could hardly get him to shut up sometimes.

The third kiss threatened to ignite into a firestorm of passion, and one or the other pulled back in the nick of time—though both were somewhat disappointed.

Their peaceful idyl was bound to come to an end, or at least an interruption sooner or later. It came in the form of a letter he read in the sitting room of their lodgings.

"This is from Bingley. He finally sprang the trap and will be married as soon as the banns are read. Would you like to attend?"

Elizabeth was somewhat nonplussed by the news, but it was not especially a shock. She had been expecting it sooner or later, and giving some thought about how she should react.

She sighed in some exasperation. "I cannot say. In some ways, I hate to see her win. It seems to set the wrong moral example, both for her and my indolent father."

He reached gently for her hand, and she granted it without qualms.

"I can agree, though I am hardly one to criticise sneaky, underhanded matrimonial schemes."

Elizabeth laughed, as he probably intended.

"Still," said he eventually, "do you wish to be forever cut off from Miss Mary and Miss Kitty because their elder sister got desperate. Do you not wish to try to reconcile with your elder sister, your mother, or even-dare I say it—your father. I would cut Bingley if you asked it of me, but I should rather not."

Elizabeth thought about it for some time, and finally sighed. "I suppose today is irony day."

"How so?" Darcy asked, and she could see that Lady Catherine was similarly confused.

She sighed again. "It seems that my idiot father's hare-brained scheme might have actually worked. He told me I would never be welcome back at Longbourn as Miss Bennet—that I would only be welcome as Mrs Darcy."

Darcy frowned, wondering what she meant.

Elizabeth smiled. "In the end, he was right. I will return as Mrs Darcy, and I will be proud and happy to do so. We will leave the moral lessons for others to contemplate."

"Does that mean —" he started and then trailed off.

"It means I am in love with you—passionately and desperately. My heart is entirely full such that the machinations of my old family do not signify. You once said you could not fix on the hour or the spot. I have much more recognisable events, but I suppose when I learned you went to such trouble to allow me to make my own choices must have been the start."

He reached out to take her other hand, and she smiled in reply.

"But I do love you… so very much, and I would be happy if you would propose… expeditiously."

It took but a moment for him to take a knee and tell her in some detail of how he felt, of how he had felt for months.

When she accepted, she could hardly look at him to note the look of heartfelt delight on his face with satisfaction, but she could hear it in his words.

She really had no idea if this mad scheme had been hers or his, but with success imminent, she was in no mood to quibble.

9. ENGAGEMENT

Much to her pleasure, Elizabeth learned that an anxious suitor could move things along quickly. Had they been in a hurry they could easily have married within days, but with an ordinary common license, a week was easily arranged.

Lady Catherine had the time of her life acquiring her trousseau, though they returned to London for that under the theory that it was necessary to learn who the proper modistes and warehouses were for Mrs Darcy. That part of being in the first circles was something she could have done without, but she was in no mood to shame her future husband over such a minor inconvenience as dressing well.

Meeting her new sister took only a couple of hours, but bringing the poor timid creature out of her shell sufficiently to allow her to stand up with Elizabeth took the better part of the week, and she thought preparing her for her debut would take at least a year.

Both members of the new couple took pains to tell Lady Catherine she would always be welcome, but she steadfastly maintained she had work yet to do at Rosings. It was not until after the Bingley wedding that they worked out that Lydia had volunteered to get the two last daughters husbands and blithely moved both to the parsonage along with Charlotte Lucas without even asking either of their fathers.

The day of her wedding was a beautiful early summer event. She defied tradition by asking Lady Catherine to give her away, which triggered a ferocious frown from the parson, but the poor man did not have the nerve to object to anything Lady Catherine should deign to ask.

The next week flew by, though to be fair most of it was spent in her husband's chambers. The mistress' chambers were still decorated for Lady Anne, and Elizabeth thought she would definitely redecorate them more to her taste… eventually. For the moment, she was not certain she saw the point once her husband installed a tub big enough for two.

Mrs Darcy had no idea if she should feel guilty about stealing her sister's thunder, but that did not stop her from appearing at Jane's wedding with her husband without notice. Everything worked out in the end, but she still did not think what her father and sister had done was right. It worked just because they got lucky, nothing more.

Jane's wedding was beautiful, though a ferocious summer rain started in the middle of the ceremony that awkwardly delayed the wedding breakfast by an hour.

Mr and Mrs Darcy spent the time becoming reacquainted with many of the people from Meryton and gossiping about their newly married state and the happiness acquired therein.

Mrs Darcy kept her eye on Mr and Mrs Bennet, and eventually concluded they were as they ever had been. Mrs Bennet was still silly and vulgar but had a good heart. She was ever so proud to have three daughters married and made no bones about repeating it often and loudly. Since one of said daughters was his, he had no objections.

Mr Bennet on the other hand kept looking at her with his typical smirking expression, and something akin to triumph that she could not like. He as much as said, 'see, I told you so' with his eyes without ever saying a word.

He finally deigned to speak to her just as the rain stopped and the guests were ready to decamp for the wedding breakfast.

"Mrs Darcy… you are very welcome at Longbourn."

The reminder of that long ago ball set her teeth on edge. The man seemed to think all's well that ends well, but she thought he had no room to boast. Who knew what would have happened if they had been forced to wed in November? She suddenly remembered something she had impertinently said back in their first meeting:

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

That was the problem with her father's unspoken thesis. She had acquired a fine, stout, healthy love through her time with Lady Catherine, and her careful and open courtship with her husband. The best thing that could have been said at the Netherfield Ball was that her husband at the time had a slight, thin sort of inclination. She doubted it would have survived even one sonnet, let alone a forced marriage.

Either way, she would not let him have the last laugh. If he wanted to offer an olive branch, he would have to give it more effort.

"My husband and I have places to be," she said, then squeezed his hand and looked up at his face adoringly. She wanted her father to know that she had found love in spite of his machinations, and in her heart of hearts, she wanted to punish him just a bit by seeing what he would never have because when he had a chance for a loving relationship with his own wife, he had thrown it away over the silliness of the entail.

Darcy, not a man who needed to be beat over the head, realised the quickest way to return his gorgeous wife to their own life was to call the carriage expeditiously.

They left from the church door, and never looked back.

Mrs Darcy somewhat reconciled with her parents and elder sister eventually, and even visited the Bingleys occasionally and her other sisters often, but she never stepped foot in Longbourn until the day she was welcomed by Mrs Collins and her nearly unrecognizable husband.

~~ Finis ~~