Uncommonly Intelligent Chapter 17: The Red Coats Are Coming, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Chapter 17: The Red Coats Are Coming

Longbourn, Hertfordshire, October 8, 1811

Lizzy awoke much later than was her custom, which she attributed to nearly a week of trying to sleep with some combination of frustration with her mother, worry for Jane, and annoyance with Caroline Bingley whirling through her head. Definitely not her confusion over her feelings about Mr. Darcy.

She heard Kitty and Lydia chattering as they walked past her door and down the stairs. This would work out well, because she had wanted to eat breakfast with them. Usually, she was out on her rounds of the estate by the time her younger sisters broke their fast, but she had other fish to fry today, and the fact that her younger sisters had kept up with the tenants while Lizzy was at Netherfield meant that she had some leeway.

It took her only a few minutes to join her sisters at the table. Jane and Mary had already finished eating, but were lingering at the table so that everyone could catch Jane up on what had happened in her absence. Her father would be in his study, Lizzy was sure. Her mother would normally be downstairs by now, but perhaps she, too, had had trouble sleeping.

"Jane, how are you feeling?" Lizzy asked before thinking, and reflected that Jane was so patient that she betrayed not a trace of annoyance as she answered for probably the fourth time that morning, "I am well, I thank you. I am very nearly myself again."

"I am glad to hear it." Lizzy turned to Kitty and Lydia. "And you, my dears, are you feeling well?"

Her youngest sisters looked at each other in mild confusion, for there was no reason they should not be feeling well, so it must be a trick question. Lydia cautiously answered, "Yes, Lizzy, why do you ask?"

They did not like the way Lizzy smiled. "Because as soon as we finish breakfast, we will walk into Meryton to begin today's lesson."

Another look was exchanged, this one of dismay. The 'Academy' lessons were usually in late afternoon. "But Lizzy," protested Lydia, "it is so early!" She looked out the window. "And does it not look as if it will rain?"

Lizzy glanced at the wispy clouds and said, "It does not. But if you do not wish to go, you do not have to. I suppose that we can buy your new ribbons another day."

That got their attention. "New ribbons! What new ribbons" Kitty squeaked.

"Oh, did I not tell you? I was going to ask Papa about those shillings this morning, for being so diligent with your tenant visits," said Lizzy, "and as our lesson today is about household expenses, I thought to combine our investigations into the price of meat and groceries with a visit to the millinery. After all, lace and bonnets are also household expenses."

Kitty and Lydia were suddenly persuaded that an early lesson was a fine idea, and after making short work of their food, rushed back upstairs to change into attire better suited for walking in the brisk morning air.

While they were gone, Lizzy said, "Jane, dearest, I fear that walking to Meryton and back this morning would be unwise for you this soon after your illness. I suggest walking in the garden today, and if you feel up to it, we might walk over to Lucas Lodge and visit Charlotte tomorrow." At Jane's murmur of agreement, Lizzy turned to her other sister. "Mary, I leave it up to you. I would enjoy your company this morning, though you have no need of the lesson."

Mary shook her head. "I will use the opportunity to practice the new piece you wrote for me, Lizzy. I believe I can already feel a difference in my left hand." Lizzy often wrote exercises tailored to address weaknesses in piano technique for her sisters as well as herself.

Lizzy beamed at her. "Just do not let Master Mondello talk you into going on a world concert tour, for we should miss you very much." It was a jest, of course, but it was no jest to say that Mary was becoming a true proficient on the pianoforte.

Lizzy just had time to tell her father that she and her sisters would be leaving before Kitty and Lydia thundered back down the stairs, and they were off.

Meryton, Hertfordshire, October 8, 1811

As they entered Meryton, Kitty and Lydia automatically directed their steps toward the millinery, but Lizzy said, "No, girls, our first stop is the butcher's shop. The reason this lesson is so early in the day is that we need to be there before his selection is depleted, so that you can see the different grades of meats he sells. I dare say that you have not the slightest idea what meat costs, let alone the difference between four-penny meat and seven-penny meat, but you must be aware of that difference when you are planning a dinner party."

Her sisters made a show of grumbling over this, but they were not truly upset, for unlike the butcher's wares, the milliner's ribbons would not be all picked over by the middle of the day.

As the sisters emerged from the butcher's shop a short time later, Kitty was the first to notice two men in red coats at the far end of the street, riding in their direction. The men seemed to be peering closely at every building they passed as they slowly rode through the town, which was evidently new to them. Kitty nudged Lydia, and Lizzy looked to see what they were looking at, and all three sisters watched in fascination as the men approached. The men noticed the three pretty ladies as well, and sat up a bit straighter on their mounts.

One of them was a handsome man who could be no more than four and twenty. He looked quite dashing in his red coat, and his smile displayed perfect teeth. The other was an older man, perhaps in his mid-forties. He was not ill-favored, but he was rather unimpressive next to his companion.

The soldiers dismounted and led their horses toward the ladies. It was the older man who spoke to Lizzy as he drew near.

"I beg your pardon, miss, but we are strangers here, and need direction. I am Colonel Forster, and will be commanding the militia that is to be arriving in less than a fortnight. This is my aide, Captain Carter. Would you be so kind as to point the way to the apothecary?"

"Colonel Alexander Forster?" Lizzy asked.

The man looked surprised. "Indeed. Have we met?"

"No, sir, but I have heard of you. Colonel Forster, Captain Carter, I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet." She indicated her sisters. "May I present my sisters, Miss Catherine Bennet, and Miss Lydia Bennet. Girls, Colonel Forster is a great hero, not only in the war on the continent, but at the capture of Ceylon. He has been mentioned in dispatches no less than four times, to my knowledge." Her sisters tore their eyes away from Captain Carter to take another look at the older man.

Colonel Forster was taken quite aback. When this young lady said she had heard of him, he had assumed that it was simply a matter of the name of the commander of the soon-to-arrive militia getting out. But instead, she seemed to have a better knowledge of his career than almost anyone outside of his family. He noticed that Captain Carter was suddenly looking at him with a respect he had never shown before. The captain had been assigned as his aide only recently, and had barely been out of leading strings when the invasion of Ceylon began. He had made little effort to conceal his feeling of being ill-used for having to run errands for a nobody who had most likely used his family's connections to get an easy post in the militia. The truth was that Forster had even better connections than Carter had guessed, and could easily have avoided service altogether, but chose instead to serve his country, and when a wound prevented him from remaining in the regulars, he still chose the militia over retirement, making himself useful by training the men who might one day be repelling a French invasion.

"Do you perhaps have an uncle or other relation who served with me?" asked the colonel, unable to account for this lady's knowledge. He could not recall an officer named 'Bennet' in his acquaintance.

"No, sir, I merely read the Gazette* with interest," replied Lizzy. "But to answer your other question, the apothecary is just around that corner," she said pointing. His name is Mr. Jones, and the building has a green sign. May I ask whether someone is injured?" Lizzy was prepared to help if Mr. Jones was out on a call.

"No, miss, I thank you, we just wanted to consult with him about his supplies and facilities, for although we have our own physician, it is not unheard of for a training accident to injure several men at once, and we sometimes need additional assistance."

"I am not at all surprised to learn that you take good care of your men, Colonel," she said, to his gratification. This might not be such a dreary post after all, he thought. But the young lady was still speaking. "I assume you have met Sir William Lucas, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, he was involved in the arrangements for our establishment here."

Lizzy nodded. "You might also want to meet my father, for he has one of the larger estates in the area, and can help you with introductions to the other landowners, as well as supplies like firewood. You may call on him at Longbourn, which is scarcely a mile down this road," she said as she pointed toward home. "I will tell him of our meeting."

"That is most gracious of you, Miss Bennet. I thank you again for the direction." And with a bow, the soldiers remounted and headed toward the apothecary.

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire, October 8, 1811

"I say, Darcy, do you think it too soon for me to call on the Bennets and see how Ja - Miss Bennet fares?"

"Too soon meaning the hour, or the day?" asked Darcy.

"The day, of course. It will surely be after eleven by the time I arrive."

"I seem to recall Mr. Bennet saying you would be welcome at any time."

Bingley brightened. "He did say that! Well then, it would be rude of me not to visit!" He looked at Darcy. "I do not suppose you would care to come along?"

Darcy folded his newspaper and stood. "As a matter of fact, I am interested in seeing Longbourn's grounds. I would be pleased to accompany you, if you do not mind. Give me a moment to get ready."

Unlike when Bingley's sister said "a moment," Darcy was ready in a matter of a few minutes, rather than an hour, but Bingley noticed that he was still dressed rather more nattily than he usually was when they went for a ride.

They turned off the highway and proceeded up Longbourn's private road. Darcy looked around as they cantered, noting with approval the well-maintained road and fences, and the fields devoted to turnips and clover, indications that a four-course crop rotation system had been implemented. He saw some orchards farther off, and an array of beehives near them. A depressed area where some sheep were grazing showed no signs of being flooded after the recent rains, indicating that it must have an efficient drainage system. He thought back to the maps of the area he and Bingley had looked at, showing that Longbourn was only slightly smaller than Netherfield.

"Bingley, did you tell me that Longbourn earns 2000 a year?" Darcy asked.

Bingley nodded. "Yes, I believe I heard it from Sir William Lucas. Why do you ask?"

Darcy shook his head. "Unless there is something terribly amiss on the side of the estate that we cannot see, I would estimate it at no less than 3000."

Bingley had no response, for he had no idea how to estimate an estate's earnings.

As for Darcy, he was not concerned about the discrepancy. His own estate of Pemberley earned over 12,000 pounds per year, but he didn't trouble himself to correct people when they said 10,000. After all, there was no reason to flaunt your wealth, and good reasons not to.

Longbourn, Hertfordshire, October 8, 1811

Mrs. Bennet had taken breakfast in her room. She had lain awake the night before, tossing and turning until well after midnight, and was only now getting the cobwebs out of her head as she completed her toilette and prepared to go downstairs. She went to the window to see how high the sun was, and her lethargy vanished when she observed two horsemen approaching the house. Although they were still a good way off, she was quite certain that they were Messrs. Bingley and Darcy.

She flew down the stairs and to the drawing room, where she found Jane doing some embroidery.

"Oh! Jane! There you are!" she cried, waving her handkerchief. "Make haste! Mr. Bingley is coming!"

Jane was quite at a loss as to what sort of haste she should make, for she was already where Mr. Bingley would surely look for her, assuming he had come to see her. But her mother was loud enough that Mary heard her even over the piano, and left the music room to see what the excitement was about.

"What is it, mama?" she asked as she entered the drawing room.

"Oh! Mary, where is Lydia? She must be here to welcome Mr. Darcy!"

"She is not here, mama. Lizzy took Kitty and Lydia to Meryton, I believe to shop."

"SHOP?" cried Mrs. Bennet, waving her handkerchief even more furiously. "Oh, I will shop her. Right over the head!"

Jane and Mary looked at each other. Their mother was not the most articulate woman in England, but she conveyed her meaning well enough.

After a flurry of activity involving rearranging the chairs so that Mr. Bingley must sit next to Jane on the sofa in order to converse with her, pinching Jane's cheeks to bring out a blush, and instructing Mrs. Hill on delaying the arrival of the tea so that the men would be obliged to extend their visit, Mrs. Bennet felt she had done all she could, and she and her daughters were posed quite casually as the men were ushered into the drawing room by Hill.

"Oh! Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, what a pleasant surprise!" cried Mrs. Bennet as they entered. She had no trouble in getting Mr. Bingley to sit next to Jane, but was not sure what to do with Mr. Darcy with both Lydia and Lizzy gone. For his part, Mr. Darcy was very disappointed that Miss Elizabeth was not present.

"Mary," said Mrs. Bennet when she could think of nothing else, "perhaps you and Jane might show Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley the garden."

"Or perhaps Mr. Darcy might wish to see my library," said a voice from the doorway, and everyone turned to see Mr. Bennet standing there. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters were little short of amazed, for Mr. Bennet rarely left his study to greet visitors who had not come expressly to see him.

Darcy said that he would be pleased to see the library, and he and Mr. Bennet exited the drawing room.

Darcy's eyes widened as he looked around Mr. Bennet's study. Most of the books seemed to be collector's items. He was also astonished to see a large section for newspapers - not just the Times, which he would have expected, but the Bombay Courier, the India Gazette, and several European and American papers. There were even newspapers in alien scripts that he could not understand, although he suspected that one was Chinese.

He addressed Mr. Bennet. "Do you collect newspapers as well as books?"

Mr. Bennet looked uncomfortable for a moment, but then tried to look nonchalant as he walked over to the newspapers. He picked up a Times and pretended to glance through it, and said, "We do seem to have quite a collection, do we not?" He then casually put it down so that it covered the newspapers with foreign scripts, and said carefully, "My brother Gardiner runs an import-export business in London, so he is naturally interested in foreign affairs, and has these papers brought in. Lizzy is very interested in travel and foreign lands, and Gardiner sends them to her so that she can read them."

Wishing to change the subject, he said, "When I heard horses outside, naturally I was curious, and watched through my window as you rode up. I must say that you and Bingley have some impressive steeds. No one would confuse them with my Buttercup."

Darcy smiled at this. "Miss Elizabeth said much the same thing when she was at Netherfield." His smile grew a bit wider, and he asked, "May I assume that you allowed one of your daughters to name Buttercup?"

Mr. Bennet chuckled. "No, I take full responsibility for her name. A private joke, or to be more accurate, reverse snobbery."

At Mr. Darcy's look of confusion, Bennet continued, "I hope I will not offend you with this explanation. You would have no way of knowing this, but I used to teach classics at Oxford."

"In fact, I am aware. It … came up in conversation only a few days ago."

"Indeed? Well, at any rate, I was not overly impressed with most of my students. Again, I do not mean to offend, for I believe you are an exception, but many of my students were more interested in carousing than in learning, and had an abysmal knowledge of the classics in general, and Greek in particular. Yet almost to a man, they went out of their way to give their horses the most obscure Greek names they could find, I suppose so that they could impress the ladies when they explained the name's meaning. It was my immature and unworthy jest to name my own horse 'Buttercup,' which was the most unassuming name I could think of." He shrugged and said, "As I say, reverse snobbery."

He looked at Darcy over his spectacles. "May I ask the name of your horse?"

Darcy reddened a bit as he admitted, "Balius."

Mr. Bennet smiled. "Ah, the Iliad. As that is arguably the most famous work in Greek, I acquit you of digging through obscure texts seeking a unique name. And I noted that your horse is dappled, so the name fits. And Mr. Bingley's horse?"

"Pegasus," said Darcy.

"Well, no pretension there, but also no originality," said Bennet.

"Mr. Bingley is the least pretentious man of my acquaintance," agreed Darcy. He looked around the study. "Do you mind if I take a closer look at your books?"

"Be my guest," said Bennet. "And feel free to borrow one or more of the newer ones, if you like, but there are some I am afraid I can not allow to leave this room."

Darcy had no thought of borrowing anything, but his resolve weakened as he saw some of the volumes in Bennet's collection. There were first editions; there were rare illuminated editions; there were some that Darcy had been searching for since he had inherited Pemberley. He suddenly stopped and caught his breath. Good Lord, could that be…

Bennet, seeing where Darcy was looking, said, "Indeed, Mr. Darcy, that is a Gutenberg Bible. Unfortunately, it is only the first volume of a two-volume set, Genesis through Psalms. I have been looking in vain for its companion for many years."

Darcy said in a shaky voice, "Its companion is in my library at Pemberley, my estate in Derbyshire. Like you, I have been searching for its mate." He turned and looked at Bennet. "I would be willing to pay a great deal for it."

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I thank you, but no. These books are my old friends, and this study is my refuge." He sighed. "I suppose that they will be sold when I pass on, of course, for Longbourn is entailed to a distant cousin, and these books are personal possessions, not part of the estate. My cousin may choose to deny my daughters the right to live here if he wishes, but he will not inherit this collection."

Darcy looked at the floor for a long moment, then reached into his coat and produced a notebook from his breast pocket. He opened it and extracted a small piece of paper and a card.

"May I use your pen?" he asked. Bennet gestured him to go ahead, and Darcy dipped the pen and wrote on both the paper and the card. He returned the pen to its holder, waved the paper around for a moment to let the ink dry, and then handed it to Bennet. Bennet read, "Nigel Montague," and under the name, an address on Bond Street.

Darcy said, "That is an agent who often brokers book purchases for me. Should you or yours ever wish to sell part or all of your collection, and cannot easily locate me, give him this card. He handed the card to Bennet. It was made of expensive stock, and the front said in elegantly printed script, "Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pemberley, Derbyshire." The writing Mr. Darcy had just completed on the back said, "Montague: Please offer full retail price for whatever Mr. Thomas Bennet or his representative wishes to sell. F.D."

"Mr. Darcy," said Bennet, a bit flummoxed, "I believe you should reconsider the 'whatever.' While I do have many valuable volumes, there are also some very common books here."

Darcy was unconcerned. "My agent is fair and competent. If a given book is not worth much, he will not offer much. And any books I do not need can either be resold, or donated to my lending libraries in Lambton and Kympton. It will be far easier for me to sort through them at my leisure than for your daughters to do it when they are bereaved, and when your heir is killing horses on his way here to contest the ownership of anything remaining in the house when he arrives."

Bennet snorted. "I know little of my heir. I will meet him for the first time when he visits next month, so I cannot accuse him of avarice. But his father was just such a man. He actually claimed that I was an impostor when I inherited Longbourn from my brother! He was laughed out of town, of course, but there has been enmity between my family and his ever since."

"And yet his son is to visit you?"

"He is. He wrote a most conciliatory letter. Here, I think you will find it amusing." Bennet retrieved the letter from his desk drawer, for he was eager to see Darcy's reaction to what he considered a fine joke.

As he watched Darcy, he saw the reaction he expected, a mixture of amusement and amazement at the ornate prose. Then Darcy stiffened, and his eyes narrowed.

"What is it, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy shook his head. "This is an astounding coincidence, Mr. Bennet. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my aunt. My mother's sister."

"Indeed? Then perhaps you can settle a dispute between myself and my daughter."

Darcy indicated he should proceed, and Bennet said, "I am of the opinion that the man is a simpleton. Lizzy believes that the letter may be a joke, and that Mr. Collins is doing a deliberate imitation of Dogberry, or Mrs. Malaprop. Knowing your aunt, would she appoint a simpleton as her rector?"

"Knowing my aunt, he seems exactly the sort of obsequious fool that she would employ," Darcy replied, "but I never thought she would find a rector who fit that description. I must bear part of the blame, for she asked me to help her select a new rector some weeks ago, but I had pressing business that prevented me." He shook his head. "Would that I had it to do over again. While I am sure that he and my aunt will get along famously, I despair for his parishioners."

Bennet sat back and reached for the glass of port he had been nursing. "Oh dear, I fear that this will break my Lizzy's heart," he said with a chuckle. "If you read on, you will see that Mr. Collins very strongly implies that he is seeking a wife from among my daughters."

Bennet was looking down at his glass as he said this, so he did not see the blood drain from Darcy's face.

Meryton, Hertfordshire, October 8, 1811

The sun had passed its apex by the time the three Bennet sisters emerged from the Meryton chandlery. Lizzy said, "Well, girls, there is only one more stop to make."

Kitty and Lydia grimaced, and Lydia said, "La, Lizzy, are we to go to the smithy to learn the cost of horseshoes now?"

Lizzy replied, "Oh, are you getting tired? I am so sorry! Our next and last stop was to be the millinery to buy some new ribbons, but if you are too tired, we can do it another day."

Her sisters immediately perked up. "We are not that tired, Lizzy," said Kitty.

"Well, if you are quite sure…" Lizzy laughed.

They crossed the street and entered the millinery. Lizzy herded them over to a corner and said quietly, "Here is some spending money for you," and gave them each two shillings. Kitty, expecting only a single shilling, said, "But Lizzy - ouch!" as Lydia kicked her in the ankle.

Lizzy smiled and said, "I think you deserve two. In fact, papa spoke of increasing your pin money permanently, now that you are taking on more responsibility." Her sisters looked at each other and grinned.

"Now girls," said Lizzy, "I need to go to Mr. Clarke's library for a few minutes. Stay together, and do not leave this shop. Understood?"

Both girls nodded enthusiastically as they prepared to spend their windfall.

Lizzy entered the lending library and went immediately to where she had seen the Practical Economy the previous week. Relieved to see it was still there, she took it to the counter where Mr. Clarke sat.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Clarke," she said. "Do you have the estimates that go with this book?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth," the man replied. "I am sure I do, just give me a moment." He went into his storeroom and emerged with the pamphlet. "Here you are, Miss Elizabeth. Two and sixpence. I shall replace the other for you, if you like."

"No thank you, Mr. Clarke, I wish to check it out also," said Lizzy as she counted out her coins.

"You want both?"

"Yes, one to keep, and one to borrow." As Clarke looked at her skeptically, Lizzy asked, "Is my subscription not up to date?"

"Yes, of course, it is just… may I ask why?"

"You may. I plan to use this in a lesson for my sisters, and it is difficult for five sisters to look at the same book at one time."

"I see. Very well, Miss Elizabeth." He recorded the transaction and asked, "Will there be anything else?"

"No, Mr. Clarke, I thank you," said Lizzy with a smile. "Good day to you."

Longbourn, Hertfordshire, October 8, 1811

Darcy had turned away from Bennet to conceal his shock at the thought of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the most brilliant woman he had ever known, marrying the simpleton who had written this letter. He felt even worse when he pictured her under the power of his aunt Catherine, who was very sure that she was the most brilliant woman anyone had ever known. Miss Elizabeth had been driven to distraction when she was forced to suffer the insolence of Caroline Bingley, because her sister Jane was dependent upon Miss Bingley's goodwill. She had barely been able to bear it for five days. How could she possibly bear not being able to answer back to Lady Catherine, her husband's patroness and even more arrogant than Miss Bingley, for the rest of her life?

He bought time by pretending to finish reading the letter, and then said, "Mr. Bennet, I do not know Mr. Collins, but I know my aunt well. She would make life a living hell for any woman who lived in her parsonage. I do not doubt that she would insist on having final approval of her grocery purchases. I strongly urge you to not allow any of your daughters to marry this man."

Bennet looked at him, considering, then said, "I thank you, Mr. Darcy. That is most valuable information, and I very much appreciate your candor."

Darcy, still too upset to sit, continued to walk slowly along the shelves, stopping now and then to examine a book. As he reached the corner, he saw a small table with a delightfully carved chess set on its top. He picked up one of the queens and admired its detail.

"Do you play chess, Mr. Darcy? "

"I do, sir. Until this week, I flattered myself that I was rather good at it."

"Oho! May I infer that you played Lizzy?"

Darcy smiled ruefully. "Only in the sense that a mouse plays with a cat. She beat me in ten minutes, without moving her queen."

Bennet raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Lizzy does not believe in deliberately letting men beat her, but neither is it her custom to humiliate them. Had you angered her in some way?"

"I believe that she was quite angry, though I hope not at me. But Miss Bingley was inexcusably rude to her during her stay at Netherfield, to the point where Bingley finally sent her back to London, and she had grievously insulted Miss Elizabeth immediately before our game." Remembering Caroline's insults caused Darcy to remember his own words, and he all but slapped his forehead. "And I just remembered that also immediately before our game, I told her I would take it easy on her."

Bennet chuckled. "That would do it," he said. "I recall an acquaintance at Oxford, actually one of the better players there, who said something similar. She annihilated him. I believe she was eight or nine at the time." When Darcy looked up sharply, Bennet added, "But you may rest easy, Mr. Darcy. While Lizzy has a quick temper, she also cools down very quickly, and does not hold a grudge over trivial offenses."

The men settled down to play a game. Darcy was far more careful and far less distracted than when he had played Lizzy, and managed a hard-fought draw.

Bennet smiled. "I thank you for the game, Mr. Darcy, and I invite you to visit whenever you feel like another game. It has been some time since I have played against an opponent so evenly matched with me."

Darcy felt quite pleased that he had been able to play Bennet to a draw, for he had feared another drubbing. "I shall look forward to it. I believe our situations are similar, for it is difficult for me to find a good game at Pemberley." He now felt more comfortable with Bennet, so he decided to ask the question he had been wondering about since he had realized, midway through the game, that Bennet's skill was on a par with his. "Sir, might I ask when you last beat Miss Elizabeth at chess?"

Bennet chuckled. "I assume you mean when she was using all sixteen pieces?" That rather answered his question, but Darcy still nodded for Bennet to continue.

Bennet thought a moment, and then replied, "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I cannot tell you. I keep a personal journal, but I am not faithful in the habit, and sometimes go several days without making an entry. I recorded the first time that Lizzy beat me while I was doing my best, but not the last time that I beat her, for I had no way of knowing it would be the last time, you see. However, I do know that it was some time before the incident at Oxford that I mentioned. So she was probably no more than eight."

Bennet watched Darcy carefully as he said this, and saw what he had feared. Not disbelief, nor skepticism, nor astonishment, but a small smile and nod, as if he had expected such an answer.

"Mr. Darcy," he began, but Darcy interrupted, "I should be pleased if you simply called me 'Darcy,'" he said.

"I thank you," said Bennet, "and I will make the same offer if you do not rescind yours after I have said what I am about to say."

Darcy looked puzzled at this, but Bennet pushed on. "Your reaction a moment ago tells me that you believe yourself aware of how special my Lizzy is. I suppose that a man of your obvious intelligence could not fail to note it after spending several days in the same house with her.

"Perhaps this is unnecessary, or at best premature, but I would rather say it too early than too late, and I would rather offend you than see my Lizzy hurt.

"Lizzy is the person I love most in the world, for anyone who knows her well loves her, and I know her better than anyone. And presumptuous though it may be, I fancy that I know a little about you. I believe that you are perceptive enough that you glimpse what a special young lady Lizzy is - though I assure you that you do not know the half of it.

"Still, you know enough to be intrigued. And as you have eyes, you can also appreciate her beauty. But I imagine that your station prevents you from marrying a country maid. I suppose that you are destined to marry a debutante of the first circle with an enormous dowry, and though Lizzy is superior to them in every way that matters, she is decidedly their inferior when it comes to scheming and backstabbing. Lizzy is far too kind and honest to compete with the harpies of the ton. And she is terribly lacking in experience with men. She is not cynical enough to ignore any attentions you might show her. I fear that her heart will be easily touched, and easily broken.

"She simply has no experience in such things, not even a minor flirtation, and you are a very impressive man. You are the first man of my acquaintance who I believe might be worthy of Lizzy, so I am by no means discouraging you. You are intelligent, you are serious, you are substantial, and you look like something carved by Michelangelo. I fear Lizzy will be vulnerable to you.

"So I beg of you, as a father, do not trifle with her. All the intelligence in the world is not proof against the feelings which a first love can incite." He muttered, "Believe me, I know."

Bingley could not stop singing the praises of Miss Jane Bennet for the entire ride back to Netherfield. Darcy did not hear a word he said.

*The London Gazette was (and is) an official government publication. It was the means of putting into the public record various notices and edicts, including the commanding officers' reports of military action. It was a high honor for a subordinate to so distinguish himself in an action that he was "mentioned in dispatches" by name.

Thanks to everyone who follows, faves, or reviews. Special thanks to "guest" who told me I was using too many contractions. That is excellent feedback.