Can I have counted right? Are there actually 35 reviews for Chapter 3!?! Amazing and a total record for me. You've more than earned the next installment.

We are rapidly barrelling toward the end of this story, although not the conclusion of where this all could go. After this chapter, only one chapter remains.


4. Elizabeth's Decision

While I would have liked the luxury of crying for hours, that was not an option anymore (as it once would have been when our father lived and we had naught that needed doing at any particular moment when no one was calling and we had no appointments). I had resolved to still my tears momentarily, for I would not shirk my duties, not put more upon dear Jane. We still shared a room and I promised myself that if I heard her step upon the floor I should stopper my tears that instant.

The very intimacies of my relationship with Jane, the very knowledge of all of her thoughts and dreams, her attempt to maintain her gentle dignity, to accept our altered conditions with grace and serenity, meant that telling her anything was impossible. For should I agree, she would feel guilt, and should I refuse, she would not understand how I could not willingly sacrifice myself as she would have done.

Too, I could not bear Jane's suppositions, her willful delusions that Mr. Darcy must love me to take such a step, to attempt to secure me by such means. Even now, with all evidence to the contrary, she supposed Lydia to have been certain that Mr. Wickham would marry her, could never imagine her freely abandoning her virtue upon the road to London (which was exactly what Lydia had admitted she had done).

I knew better. Had I not seen Mr. Darcy's merciless dark eyes, heard him disclaim any such continuing attachment? A year was more than enough time to kill any supposed affection (and supposed I thought it certainly must be, for how could he have even loved me when he proposed to me in Kent?, it was all but impossible).

I would not, could not fool myself into thinking Mr. Darcy loved me, that he came to me to be my savior, my redeemer. No, he was motivated purely by self interest, by ego. His abominable pride was not under good regulation. It had been set loose for the strictures of society did not require anything of him vis-à-vis me. This pride could not abide my prior rejection, could not let it go. It must be motivating him to take me to heel, to subdue me and conquer me and mold me like clay. He had to win at all cost, even if it would cause abject misery to us both.

While Mr. Darcy claimed it was passion that motivated him, I doubted that could account for all his words, his need to humiliate me, to make me aware of how little respect he had for me. When I was tamed, I was all but certain he would soon leave me alone, a used up plaything that no longer attracts notice once something new beckons.

I might have to bear him a few children, but I could not believe that he would truly come to me over and over again. The act could not be of such interest, to anyone. Of that I was confident.

I had the pestering worry (like a fly that will not leave one alone) that if I were to refuse Mr. Darcy's honorable proposal of marriage it was an open question what he would do next. It was not inconceivable that he might decide to take the alternative approaches his cousin the Baron had laid out. Although I would have never before considered that the proud Mr. Darcy would demean himself and take a woman against her will, I had seen something untamed in the man, something reckless, something determined to make me submit.

But in laying out all my thoughts of what I believed then, I do not think I do justice to the whirling uncertainty with which they invaded, incomplete, contradictory, confused. I do not think I could follow a single thought through to completion then.

I did hear a step nearby soon after that, but it was not Jane's light and dancing step, or Lydia's reckless clatter, or Kitty's slightly more restrained pounding. Nor was it Mamma's trot. I thought at first it might be our maid of all trade's step, but it was not coming from the servant's passage and seemed more ponderous than hers. But the knock, this I knew.

I hastened to the door and unbolted it for Mary. She hesitantly drew within and shut the door behind her, turning the bolt.

"You've been crying." She stated the obvious as my face was yet still wet with my tears. "What is it that Mr. Darcy has asked of you or that you have already done?"

How Mary, of all my sisters, understood this much was a mystery to me having never known my middle sister as well as the others. We were not confidants and she always kept her own counsel.

Mary fetched me a handkerchief and when in my distraction I did not retrieve it from her, she wiped away my tears with it herself. When Mary had finished, I had the presence of mind to take it from her and blow my nose.

Finally, I was ready to answer her question.

"Mr. Darcy has done nothing but offer me a choice that I cannot possibly accept, but neither would it be prudent to just refuse."

"Tell me," Mary demanded, and so I did. But first, I explained to her about Mr. Darcy's proposal in Kent, gave her the letter from the man to examine herself, even mentioning the mild tendre I had developed toward his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam that came to naught.

Mary recalled to me how she had in passing met Mr. Darcy when touring Pemberley with the Gardiners. "In our haste to hurry back home, so Uncle Gardiner could help Papa with the search, and all the turmoil we were met with at home, I think I hardly mentioned to you that Mr. Darcy asked after you."

"But you did tell me," I remembered.

"Yes," said she, "but I simply passed on what he said, not his looks or expression. You had no curiousity then, no reason to ask for more. Let me correct that omission now.

"He greeted me as Miss Bennet (I rather think he could not remember my given name) and asked, 'How is your family, your sisters? Is Miss Elizabeth with you?' He looked about as if you might be conjured from thin air, summoned like a genie in a story.

"Then when I explained I was the only one of my sisters traveling with my aunt and uncle, he asked to be introduced to them and spoke a few minutes with them very kindly. Finally, when he made his excuses he said, 'Please remember me to your sister Miss Elizabeth' and then he was gone. The whole interaction was an oddity to me and them, and we discussed it a bit and what it might mean before we received the letter from you about Lydia. After that, we did not speak about it again."

Mary's words raised in me a hope that at least as of last summer, Mr. Darcy still had some tender feeling toward me, was not the man carved from granite of today, who had no soul. I wondered then if he had been wholly truthful with me. Could a love for me beat within his chest, then and now? Had he deceived even himself?

Then, I told Mary about the events of today. I did not spare her anything of what occurred, even sharing my thoughts and reactions (save aside for that most embarrassing of physical ones). I did not worry about offending her sensibilities. I wanted her to understand it all better than even I did. I needed her rationality, her counsel.

When I finally fell silent, Mary said "Although Mr. Darcy denies he loves you, and you seem to accept that this is so, I think you are both wrong. Consider his action of proposing to marry you. Who but a man deeply in love would give up every person he cares for, for you?"

"Do not curse me with such a love," said I. "It would be more than anyone could bear. It would swallow me whole."

Mary did not counteract me. Instead, when some moments between us passed in silence, she turned our conversation and asked "What do you intend to do?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "I hardly know. Mary, what would you do if you were in my position?"

"That is no great mystery. Undoubtedly you knew the answer before you posed it. I was willing to marry Mr. Collins after all, had he ever taken notice of me. I would have hoped to improve him, but whether or not I could have, I would have said yes to him. I would certainly marry Mr. Darcy. He is handsome, rich, and has the means to do what he says he will, indeed the marriage contracts can put in terms for the same."

I replied, "I know our circumstances are greatly reduced, that I should seize this opportunity to help us all, but I do not know if I can live wholly without love. By accepting him, I would be fully removed from the bonds of sisterly affection, an object for his amusement and be utterly alone."

"Lizzy, you can never truly be alone, for God is always with you. But I know your temperament. You are not made for sadness, you shall make friends with your abigail, with his housekeeper, perhaps even your husband. You shall have your children's love and love them in return.

"As for the love you bear us, true love sacrifices, just as God gave his only son onto death to redeem us all. You may be entering a gilded cage, but I truly believe you can still find some happiness within the confines of such a space."

I knew Mary was right, but still I protested "I do not know if I can live with all his conditions."

Mary considered. "Do you truly believe Mr. Darcy expects you to simply accept them all? You mentioned, did you not, that it seemed he would ban you from any contact with us whatsoever, but then he softened just a little (for you opined he thought he had gone too far), and discussed the exchange of letters perused by him, the possible visits if we married respectably."

On the word "married" Mary choked up a bit. I believed she was thinking that this might never come to pass for her. I then keenly felt the unfairness of it all, that Mary, the most devote of all of my sisters, was likely to be removed from me forever. But to her credit, she did not dwell on how this might affect her, but on trying to help me.

"Lizzy, marriage settlements are negotiated, at least to some extent. Do you not think that you can negotiate the terms of the intimate arrangements Mr. Darcy has demanded, too? Perhaps Uncle Philips can help."

I felt a swell of gratitude and, for the first time, some hope. I had thought I simply had to accept, just as I had accepted father's death, the added shame of Lydia's child. These things could not be changed, but Mary was right, I could at least try to negotiate my fate. Certainly my bargaining position was not strong, but despite his plain talk, despite my fears as to what Mr. Darcy would do to me, he had done nothing but ensure that I heard him out. I could admit to myself now, in the confines of my room that my fears otherwise might all just be that, simply fears rather than any sort of objective truth.

"Oh Mary," I cried out, "you have seen what I could not. That is a splendid idea."

She smiled, evidently pleased to have been of use. "Then let us both go to see Uncle Philips first thing in the morning." I quickly agreed. Now it was just a matter of deciding what to tell Mamma and Jane. I quickly decided that Mamma had no need to know anything until the whole thing was decided, but not so with Jane.

That night when Jane and I took to our shared bed, after she blew out the candle and we were both under the counterpane, I turned to her. I believed in the dark, without my expressions to betray the conflict in my heart, I might just make the whole thing I planned to tell her be believable.

"I have a secret to tell you, a marvelous secret that all shall know later tomorrow, when all is formalized."

"What is it?" Jane asked me.

I told her what I had decided upon quickly, giving her no opportunity to ask any questions until I had got the whole thing out. "Mr. Darcy and I are to be married as soon as can be. He returned today, now that our mourning is almost at an end, and professed his undying love and his desire to marry me and take me away from all of this, to do everything he could to see to my happiness, for now and always. He is so good and kind, understands that Lydia's unfortunate actions are not our fault.

"You see, he would have come sooner but doubted his reception. I do not understand how I ever disliked him; indeed today when we talked he was most amiable and I found myself feeling half in love with him. He shall arrange everything for the rest of you to live well. I am so happy!"

"How can this be?" Jane asked. "Did you not always hate him? But then, I suppose you think the better of him, knowing how things with Mr. Wickham turned out. I always did believe you were being too hard on Mr. Darcy. And given our situation if he has indeed made you an honorable offer of marriage, you must certainly accept. But do me the privilege of not trying to deceive me with your sudden regard for him. Shall we not always have honesty between us?"

I began to cry, I could not help it. While not technically bound by Mr. Darcy's dictates yet, I had felt it would be easier to begin the lie of great love now, but should have known that my dear Jane knew me far too well to simply accept this abrupt about face.

Jane hugged me to herself and stroked her hand through my hair as she did when I was little and woke her up from a nightmare. "Oh, Lizzy, I know you were simply trying to spare me. Our situation has been bleak, but this opportunity must be grabbed with both hands. If only I had been more forward with Mr. Bingley as Charlotte suggested, perhaps you would not have to marry with no love. But I think your gain of respect for Mr. Darcy, for you cannot but respect him now for doing so much for you and us all, shall make a fine beginning. How he must love you, to claim you as his own wife, despite our ruin. And how much you must love us all, to act to save us."

"I do Jane, I do."

"So why are you crying now?"

"It is because of our family situation, that once we marry he demands that I must all but be cut off from you, and the rest of our family."

Jane stroked my forehead and leaned over and kissed my brow.

"That is dismaying, but not altogether unexpected. But perhaps as time goes on, Mr. Darcy may soften in such edicts. Try to see it from his point of view; does he not have a sister that is not yet out? He must safeguard her reputation, likely is acting a bit rashly to pursue you now at all. Never let him repine his choice, honor him as a good wife should."

"I shall," I told Jane. I told her nothing of the plan to try to negotiate my future. While I had felt hopeful that it would be successful in talking with Mary, in the dark just then, it seemed to me that it would surely fail. For could not Mr. Darcy simply refuse any alterations and instead employ his implied threats instead? While before I had been all but certain I was wrong about those, in that moment they all seemed far too plausible.

We spoke no further, but I think we both lay awake for much of the night. However, I must have eventually slept, for though I rose before the breaking of the dawn, she was no longer abed.


A/N: Yes, I know, there was no actual Mr. Darcy in this chapter, but they'll be plenty of him in Chapter 5, plus one last little twist (cue evil laugh). Now you know what to do to get to the end. Review, review, review.