Thank you for all the reviews. I love reading your thoughts on who is the conspirator and what is coming next.

This chapter is just laying more groundwork for the next chapter. You may notice that I have changed Elizabeth's age from 20 to 19. I wanted to emphasize her youth in light of Darcy's careless treatment of her.

I am not sure if I will be able to post again before New Years. The next chapter is written but it is long and needs more editing. So it may be a week and a half or two weeks before I can post it.

I hope that you all will have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

This is unbeta'd. All the mistakes are my own. Please review.

Chapter 3

February 26, 1812

Chilton Cottage, Hampshire

Elizabeth re-read Charlotte Lucas's letter. Falling rain mixed with sleet was visible through the back sitting room window, and that poor weather had very negatively affected her mood. It had been unseasonably cold and rainy for the past week, curtailing her walks to Alton.

Since Elizabeth's come-out at the tender age of fifteen, she had considered Charlotte to be one of her closest friends. Although Charlotte was approaching the age of twenty-six and Elizabeth had not yet reached the age of twenty, they enjoyed an easy comaraderie despite the age gap. The two young women shared a keen, pragmatic intelligence and a playful sense of humor. After the events that had transpired at Netherfield, Charlotte had never doubted Elizabeth's innocence concerning the compromise, and Elizabeth had found her friend's loyalty to be a great comfort.

Dear Eliza,

I was glad to hear that you have been able to involve yourself in the benevolence of the parish. I am certain that you are finding great satisfaction and solace in helping those who are less fortunate. The vicar's wife, Mrs. Sanders, sounds like a lovely woman. I, too, hope that she will prove to be a valuable friend in your new home.

Mrs. Morris seems to be a second Mrs. Hill: all motherliness and caring. I am encouraged that you are in such good hands. She appears to have taken you and Mary to her heart.

We are all well, despite the poor weather. My younger brothers and sisters are beginning to chafe under the enforced isolation. We have not ventured to town or encountered our neighbors since Tuesday, a week ago when your mother and sisters waited on us.

As to the particulars of that visit, little has changed with your family. Lydia, Kitty, and Maria could speak of nothing but officers, which I found a bit alarming, while your mother and mine were intent on catching up on the minutiae of the lives of the four and twenty families hereabouts.

However, Jane is very different. I endeavored to carry on a conversation with her but only succeeded in evoking the most desultory of responses from her. I suppose that she sees me as having betrayed her in my support of you. She is much changed. I know not what to think or say. She seems to be determined to wrap herself in serenity and to rebuff any of my attempts to gain her confidence. Whenever your name is mentioned, her expression changes in the most subtle way from serenely unaffected to barely restrained anger. Most people who do not know her well would be unaware of her true feelings, but I have known her since she was an infant. She cannot fool me. I know how hurt she is by Mr. Bingley's abandonment, and I am sad that she has placed all of the blame on you.

To make matters worse, everyone is quick to commiserate over his defection. Their pity weighs heavily on her sensibilities. We all expected an engagement or at the very least a courtship.

I know that you said that your mother has cut you off, but you would not know it based on her constant monologue on your fine marriage to Mr. Darcy. She has truly excelled in painting a rosy picture of your married life. Her stories of your conquest in society show that she is in no way deficient when it comes to her abilities at storytelling. If I did not know the truth of your situation, I would think that you dined with the Prince Regent on a regular basis.

On a more agreeable note, your Uncle Phillips' new law clerk has proven to be a very amiable addition to our society. He is a pleasant, intelligent conversationalist with fine prospects. I have come to greatly esteem him. And I do not think that I am deceiving myself in thinking that he returns my regard. Perhaps he will rescue me from my status as Meryton's most beloved spinster. As they say, Hope springs eternal.

Yours, etc.

Charlotte.

Her mother's antics sounded all too familiar. Throughout her childhood, her mother had been a nervous, excitable woman frantic to have the neighborhood see the Bennets in the best possible light. Charlotte's portrayal of Mrs. Bennet made Elizabeth miss the craziness of her family despite their treatment of her last fall. She was certain that if she were there, she would find great hilarity in her mother's fiction.

On the other hand, the changes that had occurred in her elder sister were worrisome. Regardless of the way that Jane had abandoned her after the compromise, Elizabeth still loved her sister and longed to comfort her. For she knew Jane well enough to know that she was in pain from Mr. Bingley's defection. Elizabeth had written to Jane a few times but had received no reply.

Mary interrupted her thoughts. "Lizzy, what news from Charlotte? Is everyone well at Lucas Lodge?"

"Yes, it appears so. Although, they seem to have been afflicted with the same foul weather that we are experiencing." She handed her sister the letter so that she could read it for herself.

Once again, she allowed her mind to wander back to the two days that had preceded the Great Catastrophe. Even though Elizabeth had spent hours puzzling over the events at Netherfield Park that had precipitated her marriage, she was still unable to fathom how she had come to be compromised with Mr. Darcy.

The majority of her time at Netherfield had been spent nursing her sister, for Jane had been quite feverish when she had arrived. But after her fever had broken, Elizabeth had spent more time in company with the other inhabitants of the house. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did little to hide their disdain for Elizabeth and her family, but she had come to expect nothing less from the supercilious sisters. What she had not expected had been the strained atmosphere between the ladies and Mr. Darcy. In particular, she had been confused at the poorly hidden disapprobation between Miss Bingley and the gentleman and wondered what could have happened to bring about such a change. For just days before, she had thought that the lady was more than eager to gain the favor of Mr. Darcy. Yet, her apparent admiration for the man had transformed into great antipathy.

Similarly, Mr. Bingley had displayed less engaging manners than what was normal for him, but she attributed that to his concern for Jane. For Elizabeth had been thoroughly convinced that he was well on his way to being in love with her elder sister.

In contrast, Mr. Darcy paid Elizabeth every civility. Since their dance at Lucas Lodge, her opinion of him had improved greatly. She had found him to be an interesting, engaging conversationalist. He was well-read and intelligent, and as they had spoken about their favorite authors, she had discovered that he had a very subtle dry wit. The normally aloof man had been attentive to her comfort and even walked with her in the garden on one occasion.

Surprisingly, she had felt herself falling under the spell of his uncommonly, handsome countenance. When they spoke, it had been increasingly difficult to ignore the mysterious depths of his blue eyes. At each appearance of his smile, she had been startled at its winsome sweetness. However, repeatedly, she had scolded herself to consider the matter rationally. Any simpleton knew that due to his elevated position in society, there was little chance of him considering her as anything other than a congenial acquaintance. Nonetheless, she had found herself drawn to the quiet man.

On that last evening before the Terrible Calamity, Elizabeth had been surprised by Miss Bingley's more friendly treatment of her. In truth, it was as if she had undergone a miraculous change in her personality, for she had kept up a pleasant conversation with Elizabeth over anything and nothing at all. Yet, Elizabeth had been so relieved to not have to dodge the lady's usual barbs that she had allowed herself to be drawn into her inane conversation.

Later, after checking on her sister, Elizabeth had retired for the night. She could recall nothing out of the ordinary. Having followed her usual nighttime routine, she had fallen asleep quickly. However, the next morning she had been awoken by a very angry Mr. Darcy. Normally she woke quickly and with full clarity of her surroundings and situation, but that morning, she had found it difficult to bring herself to full consciousness. It had felt as though he was speaking to her from a great distance, and she could not make herself understand what he was saying. It probably took her a full five minutes to make sense of her predicament. By the time she had come to realize that she was in Mr. Darcy's bed, the room had begun to fill up with people. She had been overwhelmed by mortification and despair, especially when she had realized that she was in nothing but a very sheer gown that she knew she had never seen before. Humiliated, she had clutched the bed sheets to her chin and had begun to quietly weep. To make matters worse, her head was throbbing. Two maids stood in the corner giggling, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were looking at her with scorn and disapproval, Mr. Bingley looked sad and disappointed, and Mr. Darcy had descended into a glacial disdain and barely concealed fury. Everyone was speaking at once, but no one would listen to her claims of innocence. Finally, to Elizabeth's relief, Jane had appeared, wrapped her in a housecoat, and had helped her back into her own room.

The next several hours had passed in a blur. When her father had appeared to convey them home, he had walked into the room and simply opened his arms to her. Without a second's hesitation, she had run into them and allowed him to wrap her up in his arms much like he had done when she was a small child.

After telling her father all that she knew of what had occurred, he had thoughtfully considered her story. "My dear, based on your state of confusion and your pounding headache, I suspect that you were drugged. What was the last thing that you had to eat or drink before going to bed?"

She had strained to recall the last moments before retiring the night before. "Papa, it seems all rather murky in my memory, but I may recall that a maid brought me a cup of hot chocolate before bed. Could someone have put laudanum in my chocolate?"

"Very likely. The taste of the chocolate would have masked the sweetness of the drug making it very hard to detect. It is likely that Mr. Darcy may have also been drugged, perhaps in his brandy." He had shaken his head helplessly before explaining, "However, he is not likely to allow us to question him. I am sorry, my Lizzie, but he is convinced of your guilt. When I spoke with him a few moments ago, he seemed unwilling to entertain any other explanation for the debacle."

"Surely, he can be made to see reason." she had cried desperately.

However, she could not miss the doubt in her father's expression. "He does not appear to be open to reasonableness at the moment, my dear." He again had paused in contemplation. "The laudanum in the chocolate sounds plausible as to the how, but it does not explain who did this or why. Lizzie, who in this household would have any reason to do this to you?"

Elizabeth had pensively bit her lip as she considered his question. "I doubt that Mr. Bingley or Mr. Hurst would ever do such a thing, but it would have taken a man to carry me across the house. I guess a footman could have been employed for that purpose." Her eyes had filled with tears as she thought of the indignity of being carried by some unknown man while in a thin gown. Moreover, some unidentified person had changed her into that scandalous gown while she lay senseless. The horror of being so violated was nearly overwhelming. Forcing herself to concentrate on the questions before them, she had continued, "Miss Bingley, up until recently has been obvious in her desire to become Mrs. Darcy, but lately, her interest seems to have waned. However, even if she no longer wants that position for herself, I doubt that she would want to see me in that role. I can make no sense of it. It seems like something out of one of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels." The last sentence trailed off into a sob, as she began to weep anew. Gaining control of her emotions, she said rather pitifully, "Papa, thank you so much for believing my story. I do not know what I would do without your support."

In the two weeks that had followed leading up to her wedding, Elizabeth had been subject to her mother's rants about her behavior, the gradual withdrawal of Jane's support, and Mr. Darcy's silent rage. Nothing in her past had prepared her for the agony of spirit that she had been subject to during that time.

Again, Mary interrupted her sad musings as she returned Charlotte's letter to her. "I do not understand our elder sister. Yes, she has suffered a disappointment with the withdrawal of Mr. Bingley's attentions. But how could she continue to believe that you had engineered such a bold compromise? She has known you our entire lives and should know more than any other that you are incapable of such treachery."

Elizabeth merely shrugged her shoulders and replied, "It is a mystery to me, too. I am grateful for your love and support, dear sister, and will always be ashamed that I was formerly so neglectful of your friendship. I do not deserve your loyalty. We who always suffered as our mother's least favorite daughters should have banded together long ago." She reached over and gave Mary's hand a squeeze. In an effort to lighten the mood, she asked, "What did you think of our mother's creative prevarication concerning my life with the horrid man from Derbyshire? Does it make you homesick for the chaos of Longbourn?"

Mary chuckled, shook her head vigorously, and responded, "By no means. I have no inclination to return home to my mother's histrionics or our younger sister's loud and silly carryings on." She gave Elizabeth an apologetic grimace and continued, "I find the atmosphere here at Chilton Cottage to be more to my liking. Even though I am fully aware that this peaceful life has been won on the back of your suffering, I am grateful to be here. At Longbourn, I never knew my place. Mama belittled me because of my looks, and Papa never even saw me. Lydia and Kitty mocked everything about me. You and Jane tried to mitigate the worst of their teasing and Mama's complaints, but without parental support, there was little you could do."

Elizabeth was cognizant of some of Mary's feelings, but to hear her sister give voice to them increased her sense of guilt that she had not tried harder to aid her in the past. It was true that Mary had been sadly neglected by everyone in the family. Jane had been favored by their mother for her beauty and serenity. Lydia, as the spoiled, youngest sister, had been favored for her liveliness. Kitty, the second youngest, had gained some approval from their mother by aping Lydia's exuberance. Although, while Elizabeth had not been as favored by her mother, she had been her father's favorite for her wit and intelligence.

But Mary had been completely overlooked by them all, and Elizabeth, only now, could see the damage that neglect had done to her middle sister's self-esteem. While at Longbourn, Mary had tried to distinguish herself by reading books of sermons, quoting excerpts from Fordyce's Sermons to Young Ladies, and practicing her accomplishments. But without the proper guidance from her parents, she had only achieved a moralistic, pedantic air. Her playing on the piano forte had been ponderous and unpleasant to the listener. However, since their residence at Chilton Cottage, Mary had truly embraced life away from those negative aspects of Longbourn, and Elizabeth had done all she could in the last few months to help her younger sister find happiness.

As she started to respond, Mary stopped her. "But here, in this small cottage, I have enjoyed contentment. There has been a sense of purpose to our days. The piano forte, the small library, and our charitable works have all filled up my time most pleasantly. I can only hope that I have, in turn, been a comfort to you."

Elizabeth hastened to interject, "Of course, you have. I do not think that I could have borne the isolation half so well without you. You have become very dear to me. I only wish that I had been a better, older sister as we were growing up. You are truly a lovely, estimable young lady."

They both clasped hands and smiled fondly at one another. Then Mary chuckled softly and asked wryly, "So, I suppose that you do not miss my quotes from the Reverend Fordyce. Surely, I should be able to moralize for days on the sins of unforgiveness and spitefulness so well displayed by your husband."

Thankful for this new, playful aspect of her sister's personality, Elizabeth laughed and responded, "Oh yes, please quote the dear reverend and moralize to your heart's content on the shortcomings of my resentful spouse. It would be quite entertaining." She paused for a moment and asked, "Mary, why did you give up on Fordyce and cease your sermonizing?"

Mary colored a bit, then hesitantly answered her, "Well, after seeing how Mr. Darcy reacted to the compromise, and how Mama and Jane failed to support you, I understood, for the first time, what real life looked like. Witnessing Jane's and Mama's betrayal made me realize that God in heaven is the only thing that we can depend upon. Furthermore, I know that there are good men out there, but men like Fordyce and your husband do not respect women. We are possessions that can be cast aside and forgotten. The truth in the bible is all that I need to make sense of this world. I decided that I needed to concentrate on the grace and love in that book, not what some silly man wrote half a century ago." She smiled in embarrassment.

Elizabeth smiled back and winked at her, "I for one do not miss the good reverend."

Mary gestured cheerily at their surroundings. "I have found much to be grateful for in this small cottage. Nay, I do not miss Longbourn."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, finding her mood much improved due to their conversation. "I see what you mean. We do have much for which we can be grateful." With a mischievous glint in her eye, she said, "Most particularly, we can glory in the dingy upholstery and carpets. We can find comfort in the cracked plaster in the front parlor and the sound of the mail coach as it thunders by our dining room window while we are partaking of our meal." She chuckled at her own jest. "Ah, but you know that I am joking. For you are correct, we are blessed in a myriad of ways. The greatest of these blessings is that we are together. The cottage is warm and cozy, and the servants are kind and caring. There, we are very happy."

They both giggled and looked around in satisfaction.

"Since you have hired Theo, there has been no sign of that man, Mr. Wickham. That has been a blessing."

"Yes," responded Elizabeth, "However, I now wish that I had not sent the missive to Mr. Darcy, at all. It now seems pointless. The thought of him arriving on our doorstep makes me cringe in dread. Being in one another's presence can only lead to more animosity and unpleasantness." She shrugged. "You know, Mary, for a short time before the compromise, I had thought I was coming to admire Mr. Darcy. He had seemed like a different man than the one we had met at that first assembly. He was no longer haughty and rude, but instead, he was kind and almost friendly." Images of their dance at Lucas Lodge ran through her mind. "But then he turned back into the man of stone and became cold and vindictive." She pondered the changing faces of her husband for a moment. "Oh well. There is nothing for it now. Perhaps he will not consider that my concerns are reason enough to come, or if I am very lucky, the letter will be lost along the way."

February 26, 1812

London, The Bingley's Townhouse

A week went by as Fitzwilliam Darcy forced himself to accept as many invitations as he could endure at his aunt's strict directive. The only thing that made the social whirl tolerable was that he could relax in his new status as a man who was no longer on the marriage market. It was truly an unexpected benefit of the debacle in Hertfordshire.

However, what he had not counted on was the blatant flirting of the young widows and matrons. Some of them had used very little subtlety in their invitations for a closer relationship with him. Many times, he had been put to the blush, and as a result, had come to avoid isolated corners or darkened corridors.

On that particular evening, Darcy found himself at the home of Charles Bingley. He had not seen his friend since the day of his abominable wedding for which Bingley had stood as witness. Charles had only just returned to town after spending the month in Scarborough visiting family.

"Charles, it is wonderful to see you again. How have you been?"

"Fine, Fine. Glad to be back in London. Darce, it is wonderful to see you as well. You look surprisingly cheerful." With a sudden apologetic look, Bingley gave a quick glance around the crowded drawing room to ensure that no one had taken his last comment amiss. "I mean to say you look very well as a newly married man should." Then he leaned closer and said in a low voice, "I expected you to look a bit more unhappy, given the state of your marriage."

Darcy grimaced before adopting a more complacent expression. "Well, it has its benefits. I am no longer the object of all of the unmarried ladies seeking my fortune. It has been rather liberating." He told him with a shrug. Looking around, he continued, "I see that your elder sister, Mrs. Hurst, is acting as your hostess. Did Miss Bingley remain in the north?"

A hint of anger and something else, perhaps exasperation, passed across Bingley's face. "Actually, she did. The family encouraged her to sit this season out. However, the reason she so easily acquiesced to our encouragement is that she has a potential suitor. Having finally given you up, she has become more pragmatic concerning her prospects." He gave a grimace before adopting a more cheerful expression. "Ah, well. Enough of that. Allow me to introduce you around the room." Again, he lowered his voice and said with a wolfish smile and a sardonic lift of his brow, "Since your lovely wife is sequestered in the country, surely we can find you some suitable companionship to ease your lonesome heart."

Darcy flinched in annoyance and immediately gave him a dark, forbidding look. "I will have none of that, Bingley. You know better than to even suggest such a thing, and you know why I have no interest in that sort of arrangement."

Bingley sheepishly apologized, "Sorry, Darce. I was just trying to lift your spirits a bit. Just a jest."

Darcy was well aware that his offer was common enough in their circles. For many of their set had found themselves trapped in loveless marriages and sought comfort outside of that institution. Most people in his situation would seek out just such an arrangement.

And yet, he knew that he could not allow himself to cross that line. As a young boy, Darcy had been aware that his own father had maintained a mistress in town and that it had broken his mother's heart. Although he was certainly no prude nor a green boy, he had sworn that he would never bring such shame into his life or his marriage. So, even though, he was bound to a woman that he felt no loyalty to, those vows still held. Besides, he knew that he had tied himself to her to maintain his honor, not hers. If he was faithless now, then the sacrifice of marrying her would have been a waste. His honor was all that he had now. He could not throw it away for his own sensual fulfillment.

Regardless of his protest, Bingley proceeded to introduce him to every young widow or matron in the room. And all of them eyed him with a speculative look. Lady Felicia was one such lady. Something in her expression alerted him that he should proceed with caution, for she was quick to send subtle signals with her eyes that she would welcome his advances.

After greeting her in strict courtesy, Darcy said, "Lady Felicia, I was not aware that you were acquainted with Mr. Bingley."

She smiled widely and batted her eyes at him. "I am delighted to see you, Mr. Darcy. No, I am not well acquainted with Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Hurst and I were in school together and have remained great friends. I can assume that you and Mr. Bingley were also in school together."

"Yes. Cambridge."

Fortunately, dinner was announced and he made his escape from the widow's presence.

Darcy found that he was seated between Mrs. Hurst and a very loquacious young woman who he had been introduced to earlier as Mrs. Howard. She was quite handsome, but had much to say about very little, thus allowing him to simply respond with occasional nods and murmurs of understanding all the while studying the other guests. At least she was not trying to flirt with him.

The conversation between Darcy and Mrs. Hurst was somewhat stilted and she spoke to him with little warmth. Of course, the confrontation at Netherfield where he had thinly hinted at her sister's capriciousness would be the cause for her coldness. However, he did not regret how he had handled the situation. For too long, he had tolerated her sister for the sake of Bingley's friendship. However, Miss Bingley's planned compromise had been the last straw. Ironically for him, only two nights later, he had been compromised, but not by Miss Bingley. She probably thought that he deserved it.

After dinner was concluded and the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Darcy, with a great deal of uneasiness, found himself seated by Lady Felicia. They discussed a few benign topics before he excused himself using the first pretext that came to mind. For he was aware that he needed to avoid allowing his name to be linked to hers. When it came time for her to display at the pianoforte, she gave a very lovely performance, for she was obviously talented. But try as he might, he could not keep himself from comparing her to another performer who, while not as technically proficient, had touched his soul with the emotion that she conveyed through her playing and singing. It made him angry that he should think of that woman even now. That vixen. He wanted to pull his hair out and yell at the injustice of it. For he had never been more disappointed in a person as he had been with that vile woman. When Lady Felicia very boldly gave him a telling look during her rendition of an Italian love song, he quickly turned and moved to the fireplace to join a political conversation.

Very soon, the party began to break up. Darcy made his way home a touch inebriated from having imbibed more than was his norm. He had expected to enjoy the evening at his friend's home but had been discomfited throughout the night. He supposed that the cause of his vexation was the ladies that had lately interjected themselves into his life. Between the distasteful company of the more flirtatious widows and that vixen, that seductress that he had been forced to wed, he had felt the need to drown his sorrows in brandy.

That night, he slept fitfully and dreamed of soulful singing, fine green eyes, and a soft form in his bed.