Author's Notes: Another new month, another new chapter! I know how painful it can be waiting for updates on stories you really like, so I'm sorry I can't pump chapters out faster, but I'm perosnally feeling pretty darn good about my current pace. I originally said this story would be 15-20 chapters in length. I'm thinking now it will have to closer to 25-30 to wrap everything up and give these characters the HEA I promised them.

This chapter has the most descriptive sexual content written so far. I still believe it would warrant a T rating, but if you take issue, please let me know.

There are so many people reading this story and leaving me great historical facts and tidbits to incorporate into my tale. Thank yous of course to all readers and reviewers, but I especially wanted to shout out this comment from the last chapter

ilex-xerox
Custody by an unmarried woman isn't, perhaps, quite as laughable as you think.

The Duke of Wellington's nephew William Pole Tynley Long Wellesley (still known in the family as Wicked William) had run through as much as he could of his wife's VAST fortune and led an incredibly dissolute life. His wife, before her death, applied to have their children made wards in chancery and on her death placed her children under the care of her two unmarried sisters, the Misses Long.

Wicked William fought tooth and nail to control the children (he wanted their inheritance) but 'on 1 Feb. 1827, Lord Chancellor Eldon pronounced judgment: although Long Wellesley had been 'unnecessarily traduced before the public' and 'much more than was true had been said of him', he stood condemned by the failure of his family to testify in his favour; by his 'most shameful' adultery with Mrs. Bligh, a common whore, which had been carried on even while his suit was in progress, and by 'exceedingly strong evidence' that he had in the past been guilty of 'most grossly improper conduct' towards his children, including coaching them in the art of blasphemous and obscene swearing. He was therefore deemed unfit to have custody of them, and the appointment of suitable guardians was referred to the master.' [History of Parliament online]

In the end, formal guardianship was awarded to the Duchess of Wellington and William Courteney - although the children seem to have lived with the Misses Long. William accused the poor ladies of all manner of obscenities and even abducted his daughter from their house (she was rescued from France and he was briefly imprisoned).The History of Parliament Online describes Long Wellesley as 'surely one of the most odious men ever to sit in Parliament'. He finally got his come-uppance in 1857 when he died suddenly 'eating an egg'!

Although this occured later than the period of P&P the law was not significantly different so there may be a chance for Lizzy - though her profession would count against her.

Thank you for telling me about this! this definitely gives me some research and inspiration for Lizzy's legal battle!

A half day's ride from London lay the quiet country village of Meryton. It had been besieged by a spell of unusually violent weather that had kept the majority of the town's residents safely indoors for the better part of the week. Even the wealthiest families of the area, with their fine carriages and steady mounts, had been hard pressed to venture out into the deluge.

A few short miles past the borders of Meryton, lay the estate of Netherfield, where a fashionable set of the nuve rich resided, trying their hand at the country living of the gently born class. The master of the estate, one Charles Bingley, had been as eager to see the sun as any of the inhabitants of the village, until he had realized what the reemergence of the sun would herald. He had spent the better part of the morning calling hours in the company of Mr. Gantry, a small, hawkish Londoner, introducing him to the magistrate and several of the prominent neighboring families of the community. As a young man with all the aspects of good breeding in combination with a genuinely affable character, he found himself a hearty welcome wherever he called; after a week with hardly any society for the Hertfordshire gentry, these welcomes were even more effusive than they may have otherwise been.

At first, Bingley had been as eager for fresh company as any of the families the pair had visited, but as the day dragged on he found himself increasingly restless to return to Netherfield, and those who resided within it's drafty, elegant, halls. Charles had a sunny disposition, one that was hard pressed into irritation, and inclined to dispatch such negativity as quickly as he could manage. Now he sat upon his mount, his teeth grinding in annoyance as Mr. Gantry continued an excessive set of compliments to Mrs. Long and her nieces. It was the last family that Gantry had deemed necessary of a visit before returning to Netherfield and Bingley was eager to be off.

As agreeable as country living could be - the escape from the soot of London was certainly pleasing - he had spent the majority of his time in a restless sort of discomposure than he would not care to admit to anyone, especially himself. As Gantry simpered and smirked, thoroughly charming the old gossip and her pleasant young charges, Charles tried to tell himself that concern for Reverend Collins was calling him home…but he knew that it was concern for another in his household that called to him.

Mrs. Collins had not been at breakfast that morning. Accustomed as he was to Town hours, Charles was typically one of the last of the party to break his fast, but he had been the first to arrive that morning, knowing Mr. Gantry needed him to make introductions to his neighbors to begin his investigations. He had watched his friend, followed by Mr. Gantry, eager to be off, then his sisters and brother, Dr. Barringer, a wan Miss Bennet with a well worn Bible in her hands, all in their own time, but the lovely Mrs. Collins had never crossed the threshold. He had pushed the food around on his plate, making conversation with unusual energy as his eyes had drifted from the doorway to the clock with increasing frequency. It was Mr. Gantry who had finally suggested it was time to be off - and Bingley had agreed, trying to ignore the begrudging feeling in his breast. With a proper hosts' decorum he had instructed his servants to fix Mrs. Collins a hearty plate, noting all the foods she had favored in the past few days. If knowing her preferences was unusually attentive for a common and indifferent acquaintance, no one felt compelled to comment upon it.

The sharp click of a pocket watch returned his thoughts to the present. Gantry was stuffing the article in his waist coat, smiling warmly. "You ladies must forgive my bad manners, I have kept you much past the appropriate time for a call! And standing to see us off in all this mud far too long!" He gave them another bow - it must have been his third at least! - Charles noted crossly, and finally mounted the animal next to him.

Mrs. Long gave the practiced laugh of a society lady, a handkerchief fluttering prettily in the autumn breeze. "You will find the society in Hertfordshire does not stand on such formality as London, sir. We are always happy to make a new acquaintance, and will not think he is remiss in being equally happy to make ours. We hope to see you again soon - will you be staying for Mr. Bingley's ball?"

In the commotion of the past week, Bingley had almost forgotten the ball he was so eager to give. He hoped that Mrs. Nichols and Caroline had their plans well in hand for he had been rather useless in the household for some time. If Reverend Collins did not recover, surely the ball would need to be cancelled in any case. Still Mrs. Long and her nieces could have no knowledge of that, and Bingley was a gentleman. "Mr. Gantry's plans are not yet fixed, madam." He said in his normally friendly manner, "However I certainly hope he can be pressed to stay and to follow my lead in securing a dance with you and your nieces."

The pair of nieces, close in age and newly out in society blushed in pleasure and tittered in the manner young ladies so often do. Mrs. Long accepted the invitation with a elegance that seemed out of place with the muddy lane in front of a small, respectable cottage and with some final galant farewells from the callers the gentlemen were finally, finally! off once more.

They took off at good clip, though the state of the lanes did not allow for the pace that Bingley truly wished to ride. He longed to be at Netherfield once more, felt as if he could not waste another moment, his very heartbeat seemed to press him to move faster, his blood pumping in his veins. Mr. Gantry kept the pace with him, riding only a few strides behind - and then suddenly, was calling out to him with an astonishing power for so small a man.

"Mr. Bingley! Sir! Stop!"

Thankfully Bingley was a great proficient on his horse, for a lesser rider could have easily been thrown. They had ridden down a lane nestled between two lesser hills that sat adjacent to Oakham Mount. The road traveled between some pockets of forrest before opening to an open valley, and was quite a picturesque ride in alternative circumstances. On this day that valley was heavily flooded, and Bingley had been about to ride his horse directly into what had become a deep marsh land. He had pulled on the reigns strongly, his horse bucking under him with surprise and exsperation, but Bingley had kept his seat.

"I thank you sir!" He said, as Gantry approached from behind.

The smaller man smiled thinly, a sardonic twinkle in his eye. "At least there is already a highly respected doctor at Netherfield, should you break your neck sir."

The men turned their horses around, following the road back up the hills at much more reasonable pace. The lane was wide enough that they could travel side by side, and when Bingley did not respond to the jest but stared blankly ahead, Gantry observed him with a critical eye.

Several long moments passed and finally, he addressed his host, asking, "Are you quite alright, Mr. Bingley?"

In truth, Mr. Bingley was not alright, nor had he been or could imagine himself to be at any time in the foreseeable future. He had come to Hertfordshire and had his entire world twisted, turned, and thoroughly discomposed. However, regardless of any inner turmoil he faced, he remained a gentleman.

"I must apologize for leading us down this path, and at such a reckless pace. I have travelled on this lane many times since coming to Netherfield and it is a particular favorite of mine. I did not stop to think what the condition of such a road could be after the weather we have had. It was entirely irresponsible of me."

"Think nothing of that, Mr. Bingley. I am sure that you simply wished to return to Netherfield as quickly as possible, and chose the fastest route from Mrs. Long's residence."

"It is the fastest route from our direction." came the rueful reply.

"And you are eager to be at home once more - you had not realized that our calls would occupy so much of the day, you are restless to be back in time for tea."

"Indeed."

"You must have quite a voracious appetite, sir."

This comment took the conversation in such a turn that Bingley visibly startled, his wide blue eyes confused. "I beg your pardon?" He sputtered, more distracted than offended.

"Forgive me. In my line of work making such observations is a necessary skill, and once once starts, it is nearly impossible to stop. Though some are perhaps better at keeping their commentary to themselves than I. I only say as much because you ate quite a hearty breakfast, and partook of the refreshments served to us at all five of the establishments we visited…yet you are in a rush to be at home for tea. I am quite satiated, myself. I shall inevitably offend Miss Bingley when I decline to partake."

Bingley made a polite, inconsequential reply, and spurred his horse on to a somewhat faster pace, quite unconsciously.

Mr. Gantry, one of Bow Street's most elite runners, trained under the Fielding brothers themselves, was indeed in the habit of observation. More importantly, he had to have the skills which the untrained lacked, of taking these observations and using them to make intelligent inferences. That Bingley had eaten heartily and then politely was a clear observation from their morning spent together - his brisk pace and thoughtless route another - an inference he was eager to return to Netherfield, obvious. That he was still hungry, would be the conclusion of an untrained observer, such as Mr. Darcy. For Gantry, it was an effective piece of dissembling. Gantry had found through the years that there were two easy ways to guide conversation toward the information that he sought. One manner was to lull his partner into such a state of relaxation and trust that he would share anything willingly, the other, to thoroughly discompose a man.

Gantry increased his pace to match his host's, keeping his tone as politely neutral as he could.

"I hope that Dr. Barringer will have some good news for us upon our return. He had some hopes at breakfast this morning. Do you recall what it was he said exactly? I find that the current diagnosis is eluding me presently."

Bingley frowned in his seat, attempting to recall what the Doctor had said. In truth, it had been very little, simply that Reverend Collins fever had seemed to calm in the morning hours and he was resting comfortably with the help of laudanum and willow bark tea. There was some hope that the fever could pass, but nothing could be promised yet.

His eyes searched the road ahead for a lost memory. He had certainly heard Dr. Barringer speak, had assuredly given him some sort of reply, but his only memory from breakfast was the empty place that was normally occupied by Mrs. Collins. "Forgive me, Mr. Gantry, but I do not quite recall myself. I believe my mind was occupied by other matters."

"Oh?" Gantry replied, with feigned surprise, "The business of the day, surely."

"Oh yes, absolutely." The younger man eagerly lied, "I was so preoccupied in finding justice for Mr. Collins I hardly heard what was spoken."

"I do not doubt you want justice for him, sir, we all do. Surely we can not consider anyone to be safe in this area until we find the culprit who would dare assault a man of the cloth."

The gentlemen found themselves back to the main road which would lead through Meryton. It was a circumventual route, taking them two of three miles out of their way, but one they knew to be free from flooding and in as good a state as any road could be after the storm. The pair rode together through Meryton in a companionable, if not pleasant, silence. Mr. Gantry was reviewing the information he gleaned of the community through the day, especially the details of the Collins family and their status in the neighborhood. Mr. Bingley found his mind was engaged with harried, worried thoughts of safety - the safety of the Collins family, the safety of Mrs. Collins in particular, just as Mr. Gantry had intended him to be with his comments.

What was it that lovely Mrs. Collins had said to him, the other morning in the garden? His shoulders and arms burned acutely — Charles' rational mind told him it was from an excess of hard riding on uneven terrain after several days of idleness, but his heart whispered treachery, reminding him of how he had held her in comfort on that little stone bench. They had said so much in that half hour tete-a-tete, spoken so candidly of love and loss and fear. Charles was sure he had never spoken so openly of his feelings to anyone prior to that morning, even the sisters who shared in his loss and the friends who condoled him through it.

She had so much - but there was one line spoken that had haunted him since:

"I am only unfamiliar with men so good as you."

Soft hearted Charles Bingley, who had been raised in wealth and comfort, who with his happy manners, made friends wherever he went, wanted to believe that she had exaggerated, that Jane Collins knew many men as good as himself - that she knew men even better than him - he wanted to believe that the world was inherently good, and people inherently kind. But even as his heart betrayed him now,with the reminder of the feel of Jane Collins in his arms, it had whispered to him that the world at large was not good - it was his world that was good, and Jane Collins had not been similarly blessed.
She had wept in his arms, overwrought with fear for one she loved, pushed to the limits of composure. And he had held her and looked into her sapphire eyes, so earnest, so utterly devoid of guile, and she had told him. "I am only unfamiliar with men so good as you."

Who would have cause to assault a parson on a stormy day - but did not rob him?

Jane Collins and Mary Bennet had arrived on his door step on the very same day as the first rainfall, utterly bedraggled. No amount of poor weather had kept them away from their injured family. Yet William Collins Sr, Master of Longbourn, had yet to come and see his son. His son and heir, who lay close to death's door. He had sent a rather perfunctory note, and a private message for his wife.

His wife.

What else had she said to him that wild, stormy morning?

"It is a great comfort, Mr. Bingley…Such a very great comfort to know that I am not entirely alone in this world."

Bingley felt his grip on the reigns tightening, as he recalled her beautiful, tear stained face looking up at him with an immensity of feeling he had never before witnessed. "That somewhere, there is a kind soul who understands me."

"A kindred spirit."

Yes, that is what she had called him - a kindred spirit. They had passed through the boundaries of the village and were nearing the border of his estate. He pushed his pace ever faster, let Gantry keep up if he could! He wanted to out race the wild beating of his heart, to fly past the desires of his mind, to out run the painful way he could feel his soul calling out to her.

She was married! Married! There was nothing for it - to even allow such a notion as loving Jane Collins in the the deepest place of his heart was indecorous, indecent, immoral. She was another man's wife. He could never acknowledge their friendship for what it was, not in his own heart, and never aloud. He could not be in love with her.

And yet, when he arrived on the drive before his great house, and saw a shabby, donkey led cart being pulled to the front of the house, the wild beating stopped entirely.
He recognized that cart and donkey. It was the conveyance that had brought Jane and Miss Bennet's personal artifacts for their stay, along with Mr. Collins' notes. He turned to the hardy groom, his blood running quite cold.

"Good Afternoon." He said in caricature of his normal good humor. "It is a bit late for calling hours - who has arrived?"

The groom bowed low to his master, and answered evenly. "Mr. Collins has come to look in on his son, and to retrieve the ladies."

"To retrieve the ladies?" Bingley repeated with energy.

"Indeed sir."

"They are needed at Netherfield!"

With an awkward look, the groom bowed to his master. Bingley blanched at his bad manners. Interrogating a groomsman would not keep Jane or his sister in his home, nor was his servant likely to have any more information than what was given. Gantry was then riding in behind him, looking thoroughly invigorated by the activity of the day. He dismounted with rapidity, handing the reigns over to another groom who had arrived.

"Is that the Collins' cart?" He asked plainly, having heard the wagon mentioned by one of the more vicious gossips they had called on in the course of the morning.

"Indeed it is." Bingley replied hotly.

Gantry clapped his hands together with energy. "Why this is excellent! I am most curious to meet this Mr. Collins. I have heard so much of him he has become almost a mythical figure to me."

Bingley turned toward the stable hands. "You will remove this equipage further down the lane, until is out of site of the house. You may return it to the stables if that is your desire. Mr. Gantry and I must meet with Mr. Collins and it will not due to have him leave before we have a chance to speak with him this afternoon. I am sorry you have been troubled with this extra burden."

It was not the servant's way to question the desires of his master. With a bow, the pair of grooms were off, with horses, donkey and cart in tow. The pair of gentlemen moved up the stairs and into the foyer with speed. Gantry had the look of a cat who had found a fresh bowl of cream.

"I will change at once." He said, bounding up the stairs. "It is of the upmost important that I look altogether too respectable for this meeting. You must use all your good humor to delay their leaving on my behalf."

"Of course," came the harassed reply. "I would not dream of allowing Mr. Collins or his family to leave, just yet."

Bingley ran his hands through his tussled sandy hair with a sense of the greatest unease. Turning toward the footman posted in the hall, he asked "Where can I find the Collins family, if you please."

The footman was nonplussed by his master's agitated expression. "Miss Bennet has gone upstairs to pack her bag. Mr. Collins and Mrs. Collins are presently in the Eastside Gardens. All others are presently in the Drawing Room, sir."

"Thank you." Bingley said with a snap, already striding toward the eastside of the house.

Absently, Bingley felt sorry for the mess his muddy boots must be causing as he stomped through the length of the house, his agitation would cause much more work for his staff than was necessary. Yet even his empathy for the people in his employ could not slow down his mission. He strode the lengths of his fine house with powerful steps, pushing his tired legs to move with an astonishing speed. He was pushing through the doors of the conservatory and then into the little wilderness - the very same little wilderness where he and Jane had sat just days ago before he quite knew how he had wound up there.

Where could they be? What did he want with her?

Suddenly, Bingley's steps faltered. Was he truly asking himself why a husband with a very ill son might desire a private audience with his wife? Surely he needed her comfort, her companionship during this hard time…or perhaps he consoled her, as Bingley had done himself. He was racing to intrude on a private moment between a couple during a very difficult time. Did he have no manners?

Just as convinced himself to turn back and await their return in the drawing room, where surely Miss Bennet would head before she departed with her family, a sickening crack filled the air. His head turned to follow the sound, and his feet followed, without instruction. He turned sharply down a little path into that lead toward a grove of ornamental trees and sitting benches. As he approached he realized he heard their voices, speaking low and harshly, with another turn the trees opened up and he was before them.

When he made the acquaintance of William Collins, he hadn't thought anything of him, other than he was bit cold and proud, and very lucky to have such a pretty wife. He did not envision that they would become friends, and had been unbothered by it. Collins was twice his age and a country gentleman with particular habits and attitudes. Now, with everything that had happened, and everything he had learned of the man in the days since they last met his countenance suddenly struck him with fervor.

He was a tall man - taller even than Darcy, with broad, strong shoulders, and thick well muscled arms, evident even beneath his great coat. His complexion was tanned, and marked with fine lines around his mouth and forehead. His dark hair was smattered with grey, showing a hint of his age on an otherwise healthy looking man. These were general observations, but as Bingley bowed to the surprised couple, he noticed the remarkably dark eyes, and the cold, hard, stare they directed at him.

If his face had been carried a softer expression in that moment, perhaps one with anxiety for his son, gratitude toward his wife, anything gentle or tender or appropriate for the circumstances in which he found himself, Bingley might have had his fears erased in moments. But he had happened upon William Collins in an unguarded moment with his wife. He bowed before them as Collins held Jane's arms pinned to her sides, his finger tips digging into her shawl tightly, painfully.

Her face was red - was it from embarrassment, anger, the autumn wind, or perhaps he had slapped her? It was impossible to tell. But as their heads turned toward him with surprise, Bingley saw their expressions clearly - Jane looked toward him with a relief with which words would never do justice, and her husband with a contempt that would be impossible for another man to recreate - for it it was impossible for Bingley to imagine thee could be another man with so black a heart as his.

Bingley had always been the sort of fellow to be universally liked and thought well of. The hate with which Jane's husband directed for him was palpable, and uncomfortable. It was a sensation he had never experienced before. He hadn't been in brawl since he was a boy at Eton, and had come through the other side of it worse off than his opponent. Should Mr. Collins choose to attack him, he was certain that he would find himself in just as poor a state as Reverend Collins. He could not deny to himself that he was intimidated.

So Bingley decided to rely on his best defense - his incredibly good breeding.

"Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins." He said deferentially, "Please allow me to apologize on intruding on you just now. It was unpardonably rude of me."

Collins released his wife from his grasp, offering him a bow so shallow another man may have found it offensive. Bingley did not care to take offense, he had no desire to exacerbate the situation in which they found themselves. His only thought - his only care was to remove Jane from the any hostility and to keep her at Netherfield as long as he was able. Jane offered him a a respectable curtesy, but did not dare to meet his eye.

"I have only come to retrieve you now as I understood from my groom that you are planning to leave shortly - and Mr. Gantry, Dr. Barringer's partner, is quite desperate to interview you before you depart. He has many questions on Mr. Collins' medical history that only you, as his father, could possibly answer for him."

The hard lines of his face did not change. In mentioning his son, there was no flicker of emotion. The only thing Bingley could read was a dark, intractable, anger which he doubted would ever dissipate.

"Very well." Was the short, stilted reply, forced through half open lips.

"He will meet with you in the study - he is refreshing his costume and will join you shortly. Shall I take Mrs. Collins back to the drawing room with the rest of my guests?"

"Mrs. Collins is not fit to be seen." His tone was bitter and ominous, but the words were slurred slightly, as if he struggled to say them.

"You are correct, of course." came Jane's meek rejoinder. "I shall return to my chamber and freshen myself to return to the company."

The unlikely trio repaired to conservatory with at a much slower pace than Bingley had taken to join them in the gardens. Collins walked with a heavy, unsure gait. When they reached the conservatory, and entered the hall, Bingley had the good fortune to encounter a footman who was traveling in the direction of the study. He called out to his servant and asked with a mockery of his distinctive good humor that Mr. Collins be escorted to his destination. He then walked back into the conservatory, pulling the bell.

"I shall wait with Mrs. Collins here until a servant arrives to escort her. Mrs. Collins is unwell and should not be alone while so distressed."

If Bingley had thought that Mr. Collins looked toward him with anger before - the only word with which he could describe his present expression was venomous. It was very clear that he did not desire for Bingley to remain in the company of his wife, but his pride would not allow him to expose any display of temper or poor manners in front of Netherfield servants, who could carry tales of his character about the neighborhood without fear of reprimand, unlike the servants of Longbourn.

Jane did not speak a word as the men around her planned her movements, and spoke on her behalf. She knew there was some safety in obedience and she would not act out now, when everything was so precarious. Bingley and Jane watched as her husband lumbered down the hall, awkward and heavy. When they had turned the corner to the main part of the house, he lead her into the conservatory, leaving the door ajar.

He lead her to an elegant settee and sat her upon it, choosing a separate chair for himself. Overgrown rose bushes gave some privacy without implying impropriety. She said nothing, and did not look at him. Bingley was certainly not a man who would wish to be indelicate toward a woman's private feelings, yet his energetic nature struggled to sit by quietly.

When he noticed a tear trail down her porcelain face, he could bare it no longer and found he must speak.

"Mrs…" He paused, seeing the delicate wince she tried to conceal as he spoke. Could he allow himself to call her by her Christian name as she asked? "Jane…" he murmured, savoring the feel of her name on his lips. "Jane…are you well?"

Her head turned toward him slightly, though her eyes remained downcast. "Oh Mr. Bingley…" she whispered, "I hardly remember what it means to be well."

He felt his heart clench painfully. "I am only unfamiliar with men so good as you." She had said that to him.

Hardly realizing what he was doing, he found himself reaching for her chin, gently, tenderly, turning her face up towards his. He so desperately wished her to know that she need never turn her eyes from his. It was only when he felt her recoil, pulling her body toward the other side of the sofa that he realized what he had done and how greatly he had over stepped her boundaries.

He rose, as if her rejection had scalded him with hot water. "Forgive me, Mrs. Collins." He said remorsefully, digging his hands into his sandy curls with distress. "It is very difficult for me to see you unhappy, and in attempting to comfort you, I have forgotten myself once more."

The slender, feminine hand that had raised up to protect her face now reached out and grasped his. He froze in his pacing, completely electrified by the intimacy of her touch. He exhaled sharply, and closed his eyes, steeling his resolve.

"You need not apologize, Mr. Bingley." she said softly, hesitantly, "I am simply unused to such…gentle friendship."

His eyes snapped open and he slowly removed his hand from her grasp, feeling the loss of every inch of her skin as he pulled away from her. She looked up at him, her eyes full of question and fear. He hated the way she looked up at him now from below - visions of her downcast expression and meek words in the presence of her husband filling his brain and inciting his ire. He would not let Jane subjugate herself to him - not today, nor ever, for as long as he knew her. In desperation, he knelt before her, the most resplendent beauty he had ever known, the kindest hearted woman he knew he would ever meet, and realized that he could not deny being in love with this remarkable woman.

They could never be alone like this again. Charles knew that in his heart. He was too romantic, too sensitive, to feel so strongly and to deny those feelings. He would have to give up Netherfield, would have to leave her, since he would never be permitted to love her as he could. If he stayed, they would both become trapped by this force beyond their control - this dangerous, reckoning power that demanded to be answered. He could not risk her safety, her family's safety, or his sister's reputations by acting rashly and selfishly. It was clear to him that Collins either knew or understood something that Charles had refused to recognize until this moment, or was simply so jealous that any man was threat.

They stared at one another, neither daring to speak. Charles felt his own tears build and then drop as he watched several more caress Jane's sweet face. It was this emotional display which prompted Jane to break the spell, whispering so softly he would have been sure he imagined it had he not watched the movement of her pink lips.

"Mr. Bingley…" she began, so impossibly soft…but Mr. Bingley leaned toward her, interrupting whatever speech she was about to begin.

"My name is Charles." He said, cutting her off with a velvet caress of a sentence. "You have asked me to call you Jane. Can you not call me Charles? If only once, so that I might carry the memory of your saying it with me always?"

They were close. Closer even than when he held her as she wept, what felt like a lifetime ago. It was a heady, intoxicating nearness that Charles would hold onto, to relish the memory of for as long as he lived. He looked through the bevy of Jane's wet lashes, meeting her gaze with a searching, longing look.

For a brief moment those lashes folded close. Charles watched them create sparkling half moons of tear drops across her cheeks. He knew that he would never see something so beautiful, so painfully intimate, again. Then they opened once more, and he was fully absorbed by the intensity of her stare.

She leaned closer still. Close enough to feel her breath kiss his face as she whispered, "Charles…oh Charles…will you come to me tonight?"

There was no time to register the question - what it meant - what she was asking of him, what was being left unsaid, for suddenly her lips were crushing against his painfully, desperately. His arms wrapped themselves around her, quite unbidden, his hands sliding along the back of her muslin day dress, hers tugging at his cravat. Charles was a wealthy young man of high society. He had certainly kissed, and been kissed before. He thought he had known what pleasures the flesh could produce - and then Jane Collins kissed him, and everything he knew was shattered in an instant.

Their tongues danced, lips caressed, in perfect, exquisite, harmony. Within moments she was toppling from her position on the sofa and met him on the floor of the conservatory, pressing their bodies against one another tightly. He had never felt so deliriously happy, so utterly content. He found himself kissing her cheeks, her nose, the length of her slender neck and the swell of her breasts. At any moment, he knew that he would open his eyes, and find this moment a figment of his imagination. Nothing could be this perfect, this painful, this passionate.

It was only when a slender hand reached low and caressed the outline of his excitement that the reality of the situation awakened in Charles' mind. His kisses slowed, and taking his own hand, he stilled the beginnings of her ministrations.

"We can not do this, darling Jane." Charles said with a ragged breath.

Jane glanced toward the open door. "You are right. I have taken leave of my senses. You must come to me tonight when all are abed."

He pulled away from her, disentangling their limbs. Her lips were swollen from their kisses. "No Jane…Mrs. Collins, you are married. You are distressed. We are neither of us adulterers."

Jane stood abruptly, her face red once more, most assuredly from anger and embarrassment. "That man….my husband…I was bound to him through no choice of my own. All my life has been dictated by the choices of others."

Charles stood as well, straightening his mussed clothing. "You must forgive me, Jane. I think too well of you to lower you so. You have made vows. I see the dedication with which you love your family. You would not wish to shame them. I believe that you want me now…but you will live to regret it. I am sure you will regret even this much smaller dalliance."

With his words, the meek girl of only an hour before suddenly straightened her back, raising to her full height. Her chin rose proudly, defiantly.

With a shaking voice she said, "Lower myself? My life has been spent lowering myself to my husband's demands. You are a beautiful man in a beautiful home with a beautiful life, and you have not the faintest idea of what lowering one's self truly means to a woman of my situation. I have acted foolishly perhaps. Rashly and impulsively. My husband is in the house at this very moment and while I do not think him man enough to risk his own life by calling you out - should he ever learn of this, he would certainly make sure that I learned my lesson. Painfully, for violence is the only language that man understands.

I am a good wife in every respect. I am a good person, and a good Christian woman. If I lie with you and burn for it — I will not repine it, for it means that Mr. Collins will assuredly be suffering a similar, and likely, a worse fate. My husband is not a good man, and he has certainly broken the vows he made to me many times over.

I will not apologize to you for grasping at my chance for happiness, temporary though that happiness may be. Kissing you was my choice! Mine! Perhaps one of the first I have ever made for myself sincerely for my own pleasure and quite possibly the last chance I shall ever have at it. Despise me if you must, but I can not repent it. I rejoice in my first taste of freedom. I rejoice in having met you, Charles Bingley. Come to my bed tonight."

Charles gulped with wracked nerves. She was right - of course she was right - he had no idea what a woman married to such a hard, hateful man must subjugate herself to. He wanted nothing more to take her in his arms and to play the passionate lover that she so desired. Or truthfully, to marry her himself and show her what a proper husband could be. She was too good, too strong, too entirely beautiful to be denied.

"Is your husband not here to take you back to Longbourn?"

"Only my sister. It would not due for the neighbors to find out I was prematurely removed from William's sickbed. He often does this you see - separates the pair of us to use one or the other as collateral. He believe that if Mary is under his purview, he can control me from afar. He is wildly incorrect. I am done playing his silly, boyish games. I will not give him what he wants."

"And what does he want, Jane?"

"Why, you or your sister for Longbourn of course. As I have not managed to orchestrate a compromise of Mary while we attend his son's sick bed, he now means to trap your sister in marriage to his son, by my hand."

If lightening had struck them in that moment, Charles could not have been more shocked. "I beg your pardon?" He finally asked, thoroughly baffled by such an ill thought plan.

Jane laughed then, a bright and sparkling laugh at the absurdity of it all. "He can not be made to see that his son is very close to death - he believes this illness to be my own plot with his son, so that I may have a dalliance with you, while William can enjoy a different, finer household while he stays in the county. If William dies, he will be very shocked indeed - and if he lives and returns to Longbourn without an engagement to your sister, he shall be seriously displeased. I should not say it…but my husband is a fool."

Charles laughed then too - heartily, and Jane found that his laughter only increased her good humor until they were both shaking with giggles. He had come to Hertfordshire with many expectations of country scenery and society, and every one of them had been subverted quite nicely. Caroline compromised by a dying man would be the most memorable of all that had occurred.

When they had finally subsided, Jane placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I must freshen my toilette and you must do the same and join the others before any suspicions grow."

"You are correct of course," he said regretfully.

Jane crossed the threshold of the conservatory while her host trailed behind. When she reached the doorway, she gave him an arch look over his shoulder and said softly. "I do not regret our dalliance, Charles, and I entreat you to think hard on your objections this afternoon. Whatever happens during my stay at Netherfield, I know that my return to Longbourn will be a bleak, unhappy time. I hope to have many pleasant memories to cherish to see me through them. I will not begrudge you if you stay away….my husband is a formidable man, and only you can know how much you fear God's retribution for adultery. But for my own sake — I am so very tired of living in fear, and I will seize every opportunity of happiness I can obtain. Whatever your choice…knowing you has brought me immeasurable joy. I shall never forget it."

And with those words, Jane Collins, brave, beautiful, passionate, powerful, Jane Collins fixed herself firmly in the mind of Charles Bingley as the only woman he could ever, would ever, love.

Author's Notes: Jane Bennet reclaiming her sexual agency. If you can't roll with that, you probably won't enjoy the general direction of where this story is headed.

The plot that Jane is referencing occurs in chapter 11 if anyone feels they need to reread.

Once again, thank you for reading my story. It had meant so much to me.