Edition: 3

This edition published 28 March 2019

First published via Derbyshire Writer's Guild, 18 April 2000

—

Elizabeth orders Jane down to London, in the hope of mending her broken heart, and later joins her there. Olivia Crenshaw, friend of Elizabeth, decides it's time to help along Jane and Bingley, meanwhile noticing a fire catching hold between Elizabeth and Darcy - and one not of romance.

At first the two are fiercely abrasive and stubborn with one another, and as time goes on Lizzy becomes mortified at her having to rely on Darcy for help, yet her desperation only intensifies as she feels her independent nature slipping into Darcy's handkerchief pocket.

So Long, Sentiment

A Pride and Prejudice Variation

Amber Allen-King

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One

—

"It is no wonder that she has been so quiet and withdrawn," said Olivia Crenshaw, with a sigh. "Her heart is broken."

"And it could have not happened to a less deserving person than my dear Jane," replied Elizabeth, her voice tinged with bitterness. "The worst of it is that I do not believe that it is Mr. Bingley's fault at all. His "so superior" sisters had a hand in this, and Mr. Darcy, too. I am certain of it."

"Mr. Darcy? Fitzwilliam Darcy? Why should he want to--?" Elizabeth silenced Olivia with a sharp look as Mrs. Gardiner entered the parlor and began puttering around. Olivia Crenshaw was the daughter of Mrs. Gardiner's dearest friend, and she and Elizabeth had also developed a strong friendship over the years during Elizabeth's visits to London. Mrs. Gardiner, realizing that the two ladies had been deep in gossip about beaus or some other intriguing subject, did not tarry. She found her sewing basket and repaired to the library to give the ladies some privacy. As soon as they were alone, Olivia continued.

"I cannot believe that Mr. Darcy would--." She was cut off again by Elizabeth's vehement reply. Olivia was taken aback. As a young heiress with a modest fortune, she was often thrown into company with Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire. She had rarely actually addressed the man--he was far too intimidating--but she could scarcely believe what Elizabeth was suggesting. She let Elizabeth's comment drop.

"Oh, but what is to be done about poor Jane?" she cried. "It pains me so to see her like this." Jane Bennet had been in town with the Gardiners since January, and nearly two months had passed without any sign of Jane's melancholy abating.

"I do not know, Livy. I had hoped that her coming to town might change things. I suppose I thought that she might be able to see Mr. Bingley. I am certain that if they could just speak to one another again they might... And if not, well, there are so many distractions to be found in London this time of year." She stared at her hands for a moment, then leapt out of her chair in frustration. "Oh, Livy, I have never met two people more ideally suited to one another," she said with a passion that made Olivia smile. "If they could meet again, without the interference of those two harridans--or Mr. Darcy--I know they could work things out."

Olivia smoothed the silk of her mauve gown as she thought. "I do not know Jane's Mr. Bingley," she began, "But maybe if we were to take the carriage out and look for him..."

"There is no time to go searching for Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth cried with exasperation. "I am to leave for Hunsford the day after tomorrow!"

"I know that, but if we limit our search to places where he might be found, or perhaps if you and Jane were to join us at the theatre tonight--." Olivia assayed, but was cut off again.

"And drag poor Jane around town in a desperate search? No, she would never go along with such a scheme. And after all she has suffered I have not even the heart to ask her." Elizabeth pouted for a moment. "Even if we were to find Mr. Bingley, what would we say to him? How are we to persuade him? I wish there were some other way. If only there was more time." Elizabeth gracelessly plopped back into her chair.

"Is there no way to convince Sir William to extend his stay?" Olivia asked, but she knew the answer before Elizabeth spoke. Sir William was eager to see his newly married daughter, Charlotte Collins, and it would be unfair to ask him to postpone his journey. But Olivia had not given up. She rose from the settee and reached for Elizabeth's hands. Pulling the surprised woman out of her chair she began dragging her toward the front door. "Well then," declared Olivia. "Time is of the essence. If we only have a day and a half, we had better make the most of it. And if Jane will not join us, we will have to speak with Mr. Bingley ourselves."

"And say what?"

"That is the beauty of my scheme. We do not have to say anything! If he loved her half as much as you say he did, the sight of you will be more than sufficient to renew Mr. Bingley's interest in Jane," Olivia asserted confidently. She cast a glance at the doubtful Elizabeth as she struggled into her coat. "Well, at least we must try!" She said airily as she led Elizabeth to her waiting carriage. As soon as the carriage pulled away from Gracechurch Street, Olivia asked, "Now where does this Mr. Bingley reside?" Elizabeth searched her memory and named the street that Jane had spoken of in her letters.

"But what are we to do, Livy? Where are we to go? We cannot just go up to his door and beg admittance."

"Why not? You are acquainted. It would not be at all unseemly," Olivia replied reasonably.

"Oh, but we could not. Should not--it would be too awkward, our arriving suddenly, out of the blue. And I am certain Miss Bingley would not receive us..."

"Tush, Lizzy. I was only kidding. I happen to know that there is a lovely park just opposite Mr. Bingley's townhouse. Would you care to take a stroll with me?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye. Elizabeth looked slightly alarmed. She was far from convinced that appearing in Mr. Bingley's neighborhood was a good idea. And should they encounter Mr. Bingley, then what? What would she say to him? Elizabeth glanced at Olivia and knew that attempting to reason with her would be pointless. Elizabeth had learned years ago not to try to dissuade Olivia Crenshaw once her mind was made up. The two ladies made small talk until the carriage reached _____ Square. They then grew silent and Elizabeth found herself looking for Mr. Bingley in spite of herself. As the carriage came to a stop, Elizabeth gasped as she spied Caroline Bingley coming down the steps of number 12 and crossing the street, headed toward the park.

"Oh, no!" gasped Elizabeth, sitting back into a corner of the carriage, lest she be seen. "It is one of Mr. Bingley's sisters!" Olivia boldly poked her head out of the carriage window and stared at the blood red-cloaked and befeathered figure across the street where she stood talking to another lady, swathed in green velvet and fur. She saw the two women link arms and walk in a direction away from the park.

"It is safe, now," Olivia declared, nodding at the footman, who opened the door to the carriage and handed her out.

"Are you sure?" whispered Elizabeth, still cringing in the shadows. Olivia let out a hearty laugh.

"Come on, then, time is wasting! Do you want to find Mr. Bingley or not?" Elizabeth slowly emerged from the carriage, blushing at the amused footman who handed her down the step. Caroline Bingley was the last person Elizabeth wanted to see. It had been Miss Bingley's fateful visit in Gracechurch Street that had destroyed all Jane's hopes of ever seeing Mr. Bingley again. No, it wouldn't do for Elizabeth to be seen by Miss Bingley.

"She would have her brother smuggled out of London in a barrel before she would let him share a single word with another Bennet," Elizabeth murmured to herself. Olivia took Elizabeth by the hand and led her confidently into the park. Elizabeth would have remained rooted to the spot where she stood, otherwise.

• • •

"Olivia, I do not know if this is a good idea," Elizabeth said for the fourth time, as the pair strolled through the park. "Perhaps--."

"Perhaps you should relax and enjoy yourself," countered Olivia. "It is a lovely afternoon, there is a hint of spring in the air, and the park is brimming with handsome gentlemen. One of them must be Jane's Mr. Bingley."

"If he is here, I am sure he is safe from us in this crowd. Oh, Livy, this is a fool's errand. I am sure of it. Maybe we should just let--."

"...Let our poor Jane suffer? Not while there is hope, Lizzy. And I am feeling very lucky today." Olivia grasped Elizabeth's arm and practically dragged her onto a wide path. The ladies were forced to slow their pace and join the throng of people out to enjoy the unexpected respite from the stormy March weather. Olivia smiled and nodded to a number of acquaintances, many of them young men, but she never stopped for more than a few seconds. She was determined to walk the length of the park and back, if necessary, to find her prey. Elizabeth, meanwhile, who had nearly given up at the sight of Miss Bingley, only half-heartedly searched the crowd. Her feet were beginning to ache and she quickly grew weary of watching fashionable ladies on parade. When Olivia stopped to speak with yet another male acquaintance, Elizabeth found herself wondering if her younger sister Lydia were not better suited to being Olivia's companion for the day. Lydia was always eager to meet men, particularly men in uniform. Sighing deeply, Elizabeth detached herself from Olivia--she wasn't interested in any more introductions to people that she would in all likelihood probably never meet again--and turned to look back the way she had come. What she saw made her heart leap to her throat.

Mr. Darcy! A voice was screaming inside her head, but she couldn't make a sound. Mr. Darcy was the last person she expected to encounter, and the sight of him was even less welcome than the sight of Miss Bingley. Elizabeth felt dizzy, and she was certain that her head would explode from the strain of her emotions. Staring at the tall, dark figure, she reached out and gripped Olivia's arm so tightly, that Olivia cried out.

"Are you all right, Miss Crenshaw?" asked her gentleman friend.

"Uh...yes. Yes," Olivia replied, glaring at Elizabeth, who was not paying attention. Panicked, Elizabeth abruptly released Olivia's arm and disappeared into the crowd. Mr. Darcy was only yards away now. She could not be certain that he had not already spotted her. "I think my friend is in need of me, Colonel," Miss Crenshaw said sweetly, as she stared after Elizabeth. "Would you excuse me, sir?" Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, ever the gentleman, had seen the distressed look in the eyes of Miss Crenshaw's companion. He did not hesitate to offer his assistance.

"May I be of service to you ladies?" he replied gallantly. As he spoke, he caught a glimpse of his cousin bearing down on him. Before she could utter a word, Mr. Darcy appeared and Olivia understood the source of Elizabeth's distress. She also knew that she had to extricate herself from these two gentlemen and find her friend.

"Miss Crenshaw, Fitzwilliam." Mr. Darcy doffed his hat to the lady and offered the Colonel a warm handshake. Olivia was impressed at his memory. The two had been introduced only once at some social function years ago. She curtseyed in response.

"Good afternoon, Darcy. I was just on my way to you," the Colonel said, "But as you see, I was distracted by the charming Miss Crenshaw." Olivia noticed, with some amusement, that Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes at Colonel Fitzwilliam's attempt at flattery.

"Far be it from me, Colonel," she said archly, "To keep you from achieving your objective. I should not have thought that a decorated military officer could be so easily diverted from his mission." Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed in a way that temporarily rendered Olivia weak-kneed. Mr. Darcy, remembering another young lady's slightly irreverent sense of humor, smiled briefly. The fleeting glimpse of his dimple immediately convinced Olivia that Mr. Darcy was completely innocent of any and all of Elizabeth's accusations. Lizzy! Olivia turned suddenly and scanned the crowd. Elizabeth Bennet was nowhere in sight.

"Oh dear, I seem to have lost my friend," she said and turned as if to depart, when she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam say, "Perhaps we should help you look for her. You will never find her alone in this crowd."

"Oh you are too kind, Colonel," Olivia smiled. "But I could not impose." She was growing desperate. How could she have forgotten that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were related? No! He--they--must not help her search. Her argument was fruitless. The Colonel felt responsible. He had selfishly detained Miss Crenshaw and her friend had become bored. Miss Crenshaw's insistence that her friend's defection had nothing to do with him didn't to weaken his resolve.

"Perhaps she had some other appointment, and suddenly remembered it," Mr. Darcy offered, although he privately considered abandoning a companion in such a manner a gross breach of etiquette.

"Yes, yes. That must be it. I will go back to my carriage. I am sure Liz--uh, Miss Brown left word with my footman." She rushed off, the two men a short distance behind.

"Allow us to escort you, Miss Crenshaw," said the Colonel, offering his arm. Mr. Darcy remained a pace or two behind. When they reached the carriage, Olivia held her breath and had a word with the footman, who loudly--too loudly--proclaimed that he had not seen the lady in question. Olivia's desperate plan to tell the men that her friend had left a message was dashed by the powerful lungs of her honest servant.

"Is the lady at all familiar with the park?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, growing concerned. "You said earlier that she was just visiting London. I would hate to think that the lady is lost and alone somewhere. We should go back into the park and make a thorough search. Are you coming Darcy? We could use an extra pair of eyes." Mr. Darcy nodded, and joined his friend. He was becoming curious about this mysterious stranger. He sidled up to Colonel Fitzwilliam and whispered, "It might help if I knew who I was looking for."

"A lady of about Miss Crenshaw's height and coloring, wearing a dark blue coat, a russet hat and scarf, and with the most incredible brown eyes I have ever seen." He glanced sidelong at Miss Crenshaw, hoping she did not hear that last bit. Mr. Darcy stopped in his tracks and for a moment he saw the woman his cousin had described. Elizabeth Bennet. Those eyes. That smile. That damnable tendency to infuriate and beguile... "Darcy? Do you see her?" asked the Colonel. Mr. Darcy shook his head and walked on.

• • •

After a little while, Elizabeth reached the edge of a small pond and stopped to catch her breath. She summoned up enough courage to look back. There was no sign of Mr. Darcy. Sadly, she realized, there was no sign of Olivia either. She sat down on a bench, assuming that Olivia would finish her conversation with the gentleman and come after her. She relaxed a little, and thought about her close escape. Mr. Darcy! Here, in _____ Park! She had never expected to see him again. But why should he not be here, she asked herself. I am the one who is out of her element. She laughed to herself. I am certain Mr. Darcy would agree with me on that sentiment. It would be the first time we have ever agreed on anything! She looked around and saw a young couple, obviously very much in love, strolling arm in arm. She sighed and wondered if she would ever see such a scene between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Not if I do not get myself out of this park, she concluded, and stood to survey the terrain.

Meanwhile, a dazed Olivia Crenshaw was anxiously searching for Elizabeth, hoping that she would not find her. All my life I have been told that men were inconstant and unreliable. Leave it to me to be saddled with the only two exceptions to the rule.

"I am beginning to think that Lizzy was right about this," Olivia muttered to herself. Mr. Darcy's head spun around. "My friend, Miss Brown," Olivia quickly improvised, "Suggested that the park would be far too crowded today." She didn't sound convincing even to herself, but Mr. Darcy seemed satisfied. Olivia wondered at his reaction, as Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, like two hounds on the trail of a fox, walked ahead of her, searching for the elusive "Miss Brown." Olivia reluctantly trailed behind. For a moment she considered diving into the bushes and disappearing herself, but she doubted that the good Colonel would let her stay lost for more than a second.

"There, Fitzwilliam! Is that the lady?" Mr. Darcy pointed toward an area near the pond. A stand of bushes impeded Olivia's view and she could not see over them, even standing on her toes.

"Yes, Darcy!" said the Colonel. "That is the lady. I am sure of it." They took off across the grass to intercept Elizabeth, much to Olivia's consternation. Aha, my two faithful hounds. Let us see if you are as good at retrieving as you are at flushing out your prey. As she struggled to catch up with the two men, she tried to calm her fluttering heart and prepare a defense. What if Mr. Darcy sees Lizzy? She has every right to take a stroll with a friend in the park on a lovely afternoon, does she not? Surely, he cannot find anything wrong with that? And why should my friend not have an alias? Olivia smacked herself on the forehead and strode on.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was completely lost. It was growing late and the crowds had thinned considerably, but since she had paid no attention to where she was going as she fled, she had no clue as to how to get back to Olivia. She considered exiting the park and walking along its perimeter to find the carriage, but the park was much larger than she had originally thought, and Olivia was probably still somewhere inside it looking for her, not to mention the fact that Elizabeth had no idea where to find an exit.

Perhaps I should stay put and let Olivia find me, she thought and resumed her seat on the bench. A moment later she was on her feet again; the prospect of sitting alone as dusk approached frightened her into action. She looked around and chose the most likely direction. She took a few paces and stopped. Mr. Darcy and the gentleman who had been speaking to Olivia were cresting a small hill not a hundred feet away. Elizabeth turned away and froze. She turned back again and prepared for the worst, but Mr. Darcy and the stranger had disappeared. She stared at the vacant spot for only a second then she lifted her skirts and ran.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" The object of Colonel Fitzwilliam's query sat up slowly.

"Where did that wall come from?" he asked, slightly dazed.

"It was a tree limb and you walked right into it. Are you all right?" the Colonel repeated as he helped his cousin to his unsteady feet. Olivia picked up Mr. Darcy's hat as she reached the pair.

"What happened?" cried Olivia.

"I seem to have found an errant tree branch," Mr. Darcy said sheepishly as the Colonel led him to the bench Elizabeth had recently vacated. Olivia looked around and saw no trace of Elizabeth. She didn't know whether to rejoice or be worried. She decided to worry. She hadn't seen Elizabeth in nearly half an hour and the sun would be setting soon. Neither of the ladies had informed Mrs. Gardiner of their departure, and guilt began to weigh on Olivia's conscience heavily.

"Darcy?" The Colonel followed his cousin's gaze, which was directed towards a fleeting glimpse of blue and white. He couldn't quite make out what his cousin was staring at, but Mr. Darcy was obviously not quite right in the head. "Are you unwell?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question. He waved a hand before Mr. Darcy's eyes. The dazed man didn't blink. Although she was sincerely concerned for Mr. Darcy, concern for Elizabeth overwhelmed Olivia and she seized the opportunity.

"Perhaps you should take Mr. Darcy home. I will continue to search for my friend," she offered, but Colonel Fitzwilliam's sense of honor forbade such a plan.

"That would be unwise, Miss Crenshaw. It will be dark soon and it would be unsafe for you to be alone in the park."

"I would not be alone if I found Lizzy," she retorted a bit loudly. Mr. Darcy snapped out of his reverie.

"Lizzy!" he cried, rising to his feet. He started to head in the direction he had seen her running, but he was stopped by the Colonel, who grabbed him by the back of the collar.

"Whoa there, Darce. Suppose you sit here a while with Miss Crenshaw and I will look for Miss Brown," he said as if talking to a small child. He scanned the area; Miss Brown had apparently disappeared again. "Drat," he said, as he first deposited Mr. Darcy and then Miss Crenshaw on the bench.

"Stay here, Miss Crenshaw. I will only be a minute." The Colonel walked off.

"Lizzy."

Olivia looked at Mr. Darcy, who had resumed staring down the path. Her curiosity got the best of her. "Mr. Darcy?" she said. After about ten seconds, he turned to look at her. "Tell me about Lizzy." Mr. Darcy looked at her for a second, then shook his head and stood up.

"I do not know anyone named 'Lizzy', Miss Crenshaw." He looked her in the eye then, and Olivia knew that he was in full control of his faculties once more. Oh, but you do, Mr. Darcy! she said to herself, as by silent mutual agreement, they took off after Colonel Fitzwilliam.

A quarter mile ahead of the Colonel, Elizabeth was furious with herself. "No amount of mortification is worth this! I should have stayed where I was. I would have encountered Mr. Darcy, that odious man, but so what? He need not have known my reason for being in the park. We had a perfectly innocent excuse! Stupid, stupid girl! My pride will be the death of me one day," she said as a gust of wind chilled her to the bone. "Oh, who knew a simple walk in the park could lead to such misery?" Elizabeth began to feel desperate. It suddenly occurred to her to ask for help, but when she looked around she saw no one. The sky was beginning to darken, and Elizabeth felt she was running out of time.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was relieved to see Mr. Darcy looking so well recovered, and he resumed his search for Miss Brown in earnest with a clear conscience. But Olivia's conscience continued to plague her. Mr. Darcy, walking behind Olivia, eyed the lady suspiciously, but Olivia was oblivious; she was truly worried now. The park was emptying rapidly and there was no sign of her friend. She heard the Colonel call "Miss Brown" and silently berated herself for her earlier deception. She knew that his calls would be futile. She glanced at Mr. Darcy warily, then joined the Colonel with cries of "Lizzy!" If Mr. Darcy had a reaction, he certainly didn't show it.

Mr. Darcy wandered away from the shouting pair. The lump on his head was throbbing. He looked toward the northern end of the park. Something glinted in the distance. He walked toward it and stopped to retrieve the object from the edge of the path. He picked up a small Sterling silver vial with an ornately decorated cap. He opened it and took a tentative whiff. Instead of the expected smelling salts, he found himself transported by the heady scent of fresh lavender.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, and suddenly she was before him again. Dancing with him. Challenging him. Enchanting him. The ivory color of her gown the perfect foil for the rose of her cheek. The mahogany ringlets he ached to reach out and caress. The flash of gold in eyes the color of rich chocolate. Her nearness in the dance. That intoxicating scent...

"You are a fool, Darcy," he said as he stood and closed the vial. As he walked back to his companions, he chided himself for indulging in such fantasies while Miss Crenshaw's friend was lost and perhaps in some danger. He tried to shake off all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet as he joined the Colonel and Miss Crenshaw and resumed the search. But a few minutes later he paused and took another whiff from the vial, then carefully placed it in his pocket. "You are a fool, Darcy," he repeated as he tried again to erase the image of the woman of his dreams from his mind.

Elizabeth walked back toward the pond. She was exhausted and not a little uneasy. She heard a noise behind her, but when she turned she saw nothing out of the ordinary. "And now I shall go distracted," she smirked and immediately regretted her choice of words, as the image of her mother came to her. She quickly suppressed it; she knew that if she began to think of her family she would quickly be overcome by useless emotions. She concentrated instead on devising methods of torturing Olivia. "Hare-brained, idiotic scheme! 'We will just go to the park,' Livy said. 'Well, we just have to try,' she said. 'We'll find your Mr. ...'" She was suddenly aware of the sound of footsteps behind her and froze in her tracks.

"Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth caught her breath, then willed her heart to beat again. Joy at being rescued overcame her pride and she turned to face Mr. Darcy. But it was not Mr. Darcy before her.

"Mr. Bingley!" She threw herself into his arms. Tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears of exhaustion competed for the opportunity to flood Elizabeth's cheeks. Mr. Bingley was taken aback by her effusive greeting.

"Mr. Bingley," she said, stepping back to a more respectable distance, "I am so glad to see you!" She looked as though she might attack him again, so Mr. Bingley quickly grabbed her hands to hold her at bay.

"It is you, Miss Bennet. When you passed me on the path a moment ago, I was not sure."

"I passed you?" Elizabeth was stunned. "Oh, my dear Mr. Bingley, I am so glad to see you. I came to the park with a friend and we got separated and now I am completely lost. And my friend..." Elizabeth spoke in an uncharacteristic rush; her words were intermingled with sobs. All Bingley could gather was that Elizabeth had somehow gotten lost. The rest of it wasn't quite clear, but he decided to bring her to safety first and deal with the rest later.

"If you will come with me, Miss Bennet, I will take you to my townhouse. It is but a short distance from here," he said nodding in the direction from which Elizabeth had come. "I think you could do with a cup of tea and some rest. Then we will see to getting you back to your friends." Elizabeth was too tired to argue. She gratefully allowed herself to be led out of the park by Mr. Bingley. Sensing her exhaustion, he asked no questions. They walked silently, Elizabeth leaning heavily on his arm. In a surprisingly short time they were at the park entrance. Elizabeth saw Olivia's carriage, the coachman, and the footman. The men appeared to be involved in an animated discussion. She withdrew her arm from Mr. Bingley's and went to them. They had been growing concerned about the ladies and the footman was about to enter the park to look for them. Elizabeth explained the situation and was assured by the footman that Miss Crenshaw was in the company of two gentlemen. After telling him where she had seen her last, Elizabeth repaired to the comfort of Mr. Bingley's parlor.

As she entered the cozy room, the dread of encountering Miss Bingley returned. As if reading her mind, Mr. Bingley informed Elizabeth that his sister would not be home for some time, but that his housekeeper, a Mrs. Stewart, would join them as chaperone. Elizabeth could only smile at this nod to propriety. In truth, she was past caring; she was too tired, too cold, and too famished. Mr. Bingley poured her a glass of sherry and sent for tea. Mrs. Stewart entered the parlor discretely, and took a seat in a corner with her knitting. After tea was served and Elizabeth had consumed a sandwich to fortify herself, she looked at Mr. Bingley. Anticipation was etched on his face.

"I must thank you again for rescuing me, Mr. Bingley." He immediately protested and Elizabeth smiled at his gallantry. She took a deep breath then and began her explanation.

"I am in London visiting my aunt and uncle --and my sister--for a few days. On Friday, I leave for Hunsford to visit my friend, Mrs. Collins. You will remember her, Mr. Bingley: Charlotte Lucas. She married my cousin, Mr. Collins, late December last year." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up at the word "sister." He smiled at her encouragingly, but Elizabeth paused to sip her tea.

"So you and your sister are off to Hunsford on Friday?" Mr. Bingley's attempt to appear casual was at once pathetically obvious and endearing. Elizabeth took pity on him.

"Oh, no, Mr. Bingley. Jane will be staying on in London for another six weeks yet." Bingley's smile outshone a dozen suns.

"Jane? Uh, Miss Bennet is in London?" Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup. Maybe Olivia was right. It was that simple! But as quickly as Mr. Bingley's smile appeared, it darkened. The sadness in his eyes moved her deeply.

"What is it, Mr. Bingley?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all, Miss Bennet." He stared into his cup.

"My sister called here some weeks ago," Elizabeth said, trying to lift his mood. "Did your sisters never tell you?" She knew that they had not mentioned Jane's visits to Mr. Bingley. He looked shocked for a moment, then angry. But then he became glum once more.

"No, they did not mention it, Miss Bennet." Maybe his sisters had wanted to spare him the discomfort of seeing her again. He rose and refilled his cup. Elizabeth refused more tea and accepted a biscuit. She was dismayed by Mr. Bingley's attitude. She had not expected this!

• • •

After a few minutes, Mr. Darcy led his companions back toward where he had found the vial, reasoning that it might belong to Miss Brown. He did not mention the vial to his companions, however. He fingered the object in his pocket with guilty pleasure as the trio headed toward the park exit. Miss Crenshaw looked ahead and saw her footman approaching with a lantern. She went to him and drew him aside, determined to discuss things more privately this time. The footman's news was reassuring. Olivia returned to the two gentlemen and told them that Miss Brown had been found and was safe.

"Where is she?" asked Mr. Darcy, a bit disappointed. He had been chasing a phantom for the better part of an hour and was prepared to settle for nothing less than the sight of her as his reward. Olivia dissembled.

"She met a friend of hers who escorted her from the park. He is seeing her home as we speak." Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed pleased by this outcome. Mr. Darcy, on the other had, was greatly disappointed. The Colonel offered to escort Miss Crenshaw to her carriage. As she took his arm and followed the footman, Mr. Darcy struggled with a tangle of conflicting emotions.

Perhaps he had been deluding himself. What had he been chasing all afternoon: Miss Crenshaw's friend, or someone else? A real, live, flesh-and-blood woman, or a distant memory? Mr. Darcy chuckled to himself. Distant memory? Elizabeth Bennet is very much a part of my "present." And yet that cannot be. It...it must not be. He turned his mind to Miss Brown. He suddenly wanted very much to meet this lady. Why? Was it mere curiosity? Was he determined to meet this woman and find in her something to admire, something to fall in love with? Something to make him forget? He looked at his cousin and Miss Crenshaw walking leisurely ahead of him. They seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Was there something there before, or was this the work of an afternoon? He took off his hat momentarily and rubbed his sore temple. If they had found Miss Brown, would she now be walking on his arm? What would she be like? Beautiful, intriguing, lavender-scented? Would she have a sense of humor and a dazzling wit? Would she be dark-haired? Would she petite in comparison to his own tall frame? Would her eyes be haunting? Would she be someone similar to but decidedly not Elizabeth Bennet? Would someone "similar to" Elizabeth Bennet satisfy him?

"You are a fool, Darcy!" He shook his head. His headache was getting worse and musings of this nature were not conducive to relieving the pain.

"Are you coming, Darcy?" Mr. Darcy looked up again and saw that he had fallen far behind his companions. Feeling a bit foolish, he closed the distance with a short jog. The Colonel waited for him, and gave him a worried look when he had caught up. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, yes, Fitzwilliam. I am afraid my mind wandered for a moment." He looked across the street as the group came through the gate. "Look, there is Bingley's house. I think I will stop in and say hello. You will join me?"

"Do you think it would be wise, sir?" Olivia's voice was constricted by her suppressed gasp of alarm, and she involuntarily squeezed Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm. Mistaking her meaning, the Colonel was nonetheless useful in persuading Mr. Darcy to change his mind.

"Perhaps she is right, Darcy. It might be best for you to go straight home and rest after your injury. You do not look at all yourself, old man." Olivia hoped that Elizabeth would not emerge from Mr. Bingley's house while they stood there on the street and hastily offered to convey the gentlemen to Mr. Darcy's abode some six streets away. Noting the Colonel's apparent eagerness to accept the proffered ride, Mr. Darcy capitulated. He entered the carriage after the Colonel and it took off. All three occupants immediately realized how tired they were as soon as they sat down and they rode in silence. Olivia prayed that Elizabeth would forgive her. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who had his eyes tightly shut. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been staring at Olivia, followed her gaze to his cousin.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" he said. There was no response, but Mr. Darcy's eyes seemed to relax. A moment later, his entire body followed suit, and Mr. Darcy passed out.

• • •

Elizabeth heard the clock on Mr. Bingley's mantel chime six times and suddenly became aware of how late it had become. She thought of her aunt and uncle. Neither she nor Olivia had told anyone where they were going. They would be worried by now. Mr. Bingley, noting her distress, immediately offered to order his carriage for her ride home. Elizabeth found herself torn between wanting to return to Gracechurch Street and wanting to stay and chat with Mr. Bingley. Something was clearly troubling him, for all that he attempted to deny it, and she wanted to help him if she could. While they waited for the carriage to be brought around, the two chatted for some minutes about meaningless things while Elizabeth tried to think. Finally, an idea came to her.

"Mr. Bingley, would you do me the honor of escorting me to my uncle's house? I am sure that my sister, Jane, as well as my aunt and uncle would be happy to see you. Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria would also be happy to meet you again." Elizabeth tried to be impossible to refuse, as she had often seen Lydia behave at assemblies. Mr. Bingley hesitated for a moment, then smiled. Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt at manipulating him. But it is for his own good, she reasoned. He allowed himself to be manipulated out of his happiness. Now he can let me manipulate his way back to it. A short while later Mr. Bingley escorted Elizabeth to his waiting carriage. Elizabeth noted that Olivia's carriage had left. She hoped that Olivia hadn't found some reason to take Mr. Darcy to Gracechurch Street.

• • •

If she had not been watching him, Olivia might have assumed that Mr. Darcy had fallen asleep, if such a thing were likely in so short a trip. But from her seat in the carriage opposite him, she had seen Mr. Darcy shudder and then slump awkwardly, as his beaver pitched forward and landed neatly in her outstretched hands. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who first saw Olivia's reaction and heard her cry of "Mr. Darcy!" immediately turned to his cousin and felt for a pulse.

"Darcy?" the Colonel cried, as Olivia grabbed one of Mr. Darcy's hands and rubbed it in a vain attempt to revive him. Before she or the Colonel was even aware of it, the carriage came to a halt outside Mr. Darcy's townhouse. Olivia leapt from the carriage and called for assistance. The footman and the Colonel carried the unconscious form of Mr. Darcy into the townhouse, where his own servants relieved them of their precious burden and carried their master to his chambers.

The butler, one Mr. Harris, escorted the distraught lady to a small parlor and sent her servants to the kitchen for some refreshment. The Colonel went in search of a doctor. Sitting alone in the parlor, Olivia had ample time to recall the events of the day and to regret her part in them. Oh, how foolish she had been! To cavalierly suggest to Elizabeth that they go out and search for Mr. Bingley! How arrogant had been her notion that restoring Jane's happiness was as simple as finding a man who had probably resolved to never speak to her again! For all Olivia knew, Jane might have made a similar resolution and might not appreciate her and Lizzy's efforts at all!

Olivia saw a small desk in the corner of the parlor. She went to it and drew out pen, ink and paper. She sat down and wrote two notes. One was addressed to her father. The other was addressed to Elizabeth. She rang for a servant to give the notes to her footman, then sank into an armchair near the fireplace. As Olivia stared into the flames, the full impact of her culpability began to weigh on her conscience. Mr. Darcy's condition was purely accidental, but he would not have been out searching for Elizabeth if--. Olivia squirmed in the chair, sinking deeper into the cushions, as she wondered at Elizabeth's flight from Mr. Darcy. Clearly, Elizabeth didn't like the man. She had made that much clear in their discussion earlier that day. But she had run at the sight of Mr. Darcy-Elizabeth, who was never intimidated by anyone! And Mr. Darcy just as clearly seemed to like Elizabeth, if her suspicions were correct...

She wondered if there was something more between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy than Elizabeth had revealed. Indeed, Elizabeth had told her nothing about her relations with Mr. Darcy. Olivia had only guessed that Lizzy had run off because of him. Olivia began to wonder if there were two romantic entanglements to be straightened out. Eventually, however, her mind came back to the reality of the present. She felt wretched. This whole scheme was my own doing, and I must bear the consequences of my folly. Olivia covered her face with her hands and wept.

• • •

At the sound of Elizabeth's voice, Jane sprang from her chair and rushed into the corridor, but when she saw Mr. Bingley all thoughts of her sister fled. Jane was only aware of the man who stood before her, equally transfixed. Elizabeth wished she could divert the wave of anxious people who immediately converged upon the spot where Jane and Bingley stood. But, alas, the shrieks of four children and a cry of "Lizzy, is that you?" quickly broke the spell.

Mr. Bingley was heartily welcomed by all the Gardiners as their Elizabeth's savior. He blushed and stammered at all the attention, and was ushered ceremoniously into the parlor. Sir William Lucas and his daughter, Maria, the only two people in the entire house who hadn't bolted into the entry hall, were reacquainted with their Netherfield neighbor. It took several moments for the clamor to die down, and for Mr. Bingley to be seated next to Elizabeth on the settee.

Oh, dear, thought Elizabeth. I hope that no suspects Mr. Bingley and me of any sort of attachment! But Mr. Bingley only had eyes for Jane, who sat demurely on the seat nearest the settee, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were well acquainted with Jane and Mr. Bingley's history in Hertfordshire. Mr. Gardiner nudged his wife and they shared a satisfied smile. Refreshments were soon served by a maid who was as delighted as the rest of the household to see her favorite houseguest safe and sound. Elizabeth was pressed by the Gardiner children to tell her story. Elizabeth knew that she would have to lie. She looked at her aunt and averted her eyes. She would have to make things right later.

"Miss Crenshaw and I decided to go out for some air," she began. "We went to a park, a very large park, with lots of paths with twists and turns," she continued, gesturing with her hands to make the story more entertaining to the children.

"Bigger than our park across the street?" asked Andrew, aged eight.

"Oh, much bigger!"

"Why did you not just go to the little one?" asked Elizabeth's four-year-old namesake.

Elizabeth hesitated. "Because we were on an adventure!" she said eyes wide. Well, that was not a lie, was it? "Anyway, we started walking through the park and it was so pretty. There were so many things to look at, that when Miss Crenshaw stopped to speak with a friend and I saw something very 'interesting'..."

"Was it a monster?" asked Edward, who at ten, saw monsters everywhere. Elizabeth smirked enigmatically before answering. She continued her tale, being careful to avoid mentioning the presence of Mr. Darcy or her own role in getting lost.

"It must have been dreadful," Maria breathed. "I should not have been as brave as you, Lizzy." Remembering her near-panic of just an hour earlier, Elizabeth blushed and smiled sheepishly. She glanced again at her Aunt Gardiner. The older woman looked somewhat troubled.

"And what became of Miss Crenshaw?" she asked. Mr. Bingley immediately rose to his feet, and Mr. Gardiner started to join him. But Elizabeth stayed them with a hand and quickly explained that in her last glimpse of Miss Crenshaw, she saw her with her gentleman friend. They seemed to be looking for her, but Elizabeth somehow lost sight of them.

"Fortunately, Livy's carriage happened to be waiting very near to Mr. Bingley's townhouse. I had a word with her footman and he went to look for Miss Crenshaw with a lamp."

"Do you think he will ever find her?" asked Edward. Elizabeth smiled at the boy, hoping to give a reassurance she herself did not feel. "Yes, Edward. I am sure she is safe at home with her Papa even now." Elizabeth's smile quickly faded and Mrs. Gardiner shooed the children from the room. They each kissed their cousins Jane and Elizabeth, then bowed and curtseyed to their other guests. Mr. Gardiner began to engage Mr. Bingley in conversation, and Mr. Bingley in turn drew Jane into the discussion. Fairly soon the two were chatting easily, but Elizabeth could not rejoice. She really had no way of knowing that Olivia was safe. When she last saw Olivia she was speaking with a man in a military uniform. She hadn't seen her since, it suddenly occurred to her-when she later saw the same man with Mr. Darcy later, Olivia was nowhere in sight. She had lied to Olivia's footman and her own family. True, her carriage had left, but for all she knew Olivia could have been found injured or worse...

A shadow fell over Elizabeth. She looked up; Mrs. Gardiner stood over her speaking in gentle tones. To her left, Mr. Bingley was nodding. He reached over and patted Elizabeth's shoulder. Jane came near and knelt at Elizabeth's knee.

"Yes, Lizzy," she said softly. "Perhaps you should retire. It has been a very tiring and distressing afternoon." Elizabeth stared at her for a second, and then found herself being raised to her feet by Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth mumbled an apology--she would not be able to recall what she'd said later--and was taken upstairs. It was only when she caught a glimpse of herself as she passed a mirror that she realized that she had been crying.

Mr. Bingley took Elizabeth's departure as his cue to leave, but Mr. Gardiner wouldn't hear of it. He urged Mr. Bingley to stay for supper, and Mr. Bingley offered little resistance. As Mr. Gardiner and Sir Lucas discussed politics, and Maria buried her head in a book, Mr. Bingley and Jane sat together on the settee as if no time and no malice had ever divided them. A servant brought in a note and handed it to Mr. Gardiner, who asked that it be taken upstairs to its proper recipient.

• • •

"There, there, Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner whispered into Elizabeth's hair. "I am sure Olivia will forgive you, just as you will forgive her." She held Elizabeth more tightly as the younger woman continued to sob in her arms. Mrs. Gardiner sighed. The whole affair was too ridiculous, but she doubted that any serious harm had come of it. She extricated herself from Elizabeth's arms and tucked Elizabeth into bed. Mrs. Gardiner turned to leave, then had a thought that made her stop and turn back. She kissed Elizabeth on the forehead.

"Unless I am greatly mistaken, you and Olivia will be laughing over this adventure at Jane's wedding." Elizabeth managed a weak smile, and Mrs. Gardiner smiled back. When she opened the bedroom door to leave she found a footman standing just outside, poised to knock.

"This just came for Miss Elizabeth, ma'am," he said with a short bow. Elizabeth sat up and eagerly accepted the note with the Darcy seal.

• • •

Mr. Harris had directed Colonel Fitzwilliam to a house two doors away from the Darcy residence, where the younger son of Sir James Spencer had recently arrived for a month-long stay. David Spencer was a physician, and he gladly left his supper to attend to Mr. Darcy. Returning to the townhouse, the Colonel had a servant escort Dr. Spencer to Mr. Darcy's rooms, while the Colonel paused to speak with Mr. Harris at the foot of the stairs.

"There is reassuring news, sir," said the butler. "Mr. Darcy regained consciousness almost as soon as he reached his chambers. He is complaining of headache, sir, but it does not appear that he is as bad off as we first thought." The Colonel accepted this news gratefully and headed toward the stairs to his cousin's room, nearly bumping into a young maid in the process. He paused when he overheard the maid address Mr. Harris.

"I took the tea things in to the lady as you asked, sir, and..." The maid paused, looking uneasy.

"Yes, girl," the butler prodded impatiently.

"She was crying sir."

The maid curtseyed and scurried off, and nearly bumped into the Colonel again as he descended the stairs. He strode past the butler to the parlor door. He paused, looked back at Mr. Harris, heaved a sigh, and entered the room. Inside, Olivia sat motionless, her eyes staring at, but not seeing, the fire in the grate. Colonel Fitzwilliam knelt by her chair, cupped her cheek in his hand and gently turned her face to him. He held her gaze with a smile while he drew a handkerchief from his pocket with his other hand. Dabbing at her tear-stained cheek, the Colonel clucked and said, "Miss Crenshaw, you look a fright." Olivia laughed in spite of herself. She sat up and allowed the Colonel to dry her eyes and to brush back an errant curl or two.

"How is Mr. Darcy?" she said in a whisper, taking the handkerchief from him. The Colonel reluctantly retreated to a chair opposite Olivia's.

"The doctor is with him now, but I am sure he is going to be fine," he replied. For a few moments the Colonel just sat and watched Olivia as she fingered the initials on the handkerchief. She seemed to be deep in thought and he was content to just keep her company. Olivia stared at the impeccably embroidered square of fine linen she held in her hands. She felt and suppressed a pang of jealousy, wondering who had done the needlework. The Colonel had two sisters, a mother, and at least two female cousins... She laid the handkerchief across her lap and continued to examine the fagoting around its edge.

"What is the 'T' for?" she said unexpectedly. The Colonel blinked at the odd question.

"Your initials--R T F. What does the 'T' stand for?" The Colonel sat back.

"Thomas."

"Oh," Olivia replied. A moment later, she was on her feet pacing, the handkerchief in her hand forgotten. "This is all my fault, Colonel! Mr. Darcy would not have been injured if I had not..." The Colonel was on his feet in an instant.

"You take too much upon yourself, Miss Crenshaw," he said grasping her hands and returning her to her seat. "You are in no way responsible for Darcy's accident, any more than I am. I am afraid he walked into that tree all by himself!" he added, trying again to lighten the mood. But she would not allow herself to be diverted.

"You do not understand, Colonel," Olivia said softly. The tears began to flow again. Olivia told the Colonel the whole story, from Mr. Bingley and Jane's budding romance in Hertfordshire to Olivia's notion of bringing the star-crossed lovers together again. "You see, I thought if I could just bring them together, well...I...perhaps...well, you understand." She flustered to a stop as the Colonel crossed his arms and shook his head, chuckling softly.

"So you two thought you would try and rearrange fate." Colonel Fitzwilliam grew serious. "But what has all this to do with Darcy's injury?"

"You and Mr. Darcy wouldn't have been out searching for Lizzy had it not been for me," Olivia replied. But the Colonel was still ready to absolve her.

"Perhaps not, but I still insist that Darcy's injury--." At this point, the doctor was shown into the parlor. He stayed only long enough to apprise the couple of Mr. Darcy's condition. Mr. Darcy had sustained a concussion, a mild one--but it was serious enough to warrant a few days' bed rest. Overexertion had caused Mr. Darcy to black out and strenuous activity was to be avoided for the next week at least. As the doctor prepared to leave, he asked the Colonel whether or not Mr. Darcy was married.

"No," the Colonel replied with an inquisitive look. "He is a bachelor. Why do you ask?"

"I gave Mr. Darcy something to help him sleep. As he nodded off, I thought I heard him ask for Lily or--." The Colonel's eyebrows shot up.

"Lizzy?" Olivia offered.

"Yes, yes, that was it. Yes. He definitely asked if 'Lizzy' had gotten home safely." The doctor bade the surprised pair a good evening and left the room.

"Well!" said the Colonel. "I take it that this 'Lizzy' that Darcy keeps mentioning is indeed your friend, Miss Brown? I should dearly like to meet this 'Lizzy' of his."

"Her name is Bennet, Colonel," said Olivia, her misery considerably abated by the doctor's good report. "And if you will call on me tomorrow, you shall." With that she gathered up her reticule and the Colonel escorted her to her carriage.

Two

—

"I have a few errands to run this morning," her aunt replied. "Do you still want to go to the shops today? Perhaps you should rest. We are going to the theatre tonight and you have a long ride ahead of you tomorrow... You still look quite done in, my dear."

Elizabeth touched her napkin to her lips and carefully placed it on the table. "Actually, Aunt, I would like--I think I should go to see Olivia Crenshaw this morning." Elizabeth bit her lip, contemplating what lay ahead. She knew that she owed Olivia an explanation for her rash behavior the previous day. But she knew not what to tell her. Elizabeth had discovered the previous night that she could not justify her behavior even to herself. She had lain awake for hours trying to figure it out.

Why had she run away like a frightened child? Elizabeth mulled this question over as she went upstairs to prepare for her outing with the ladies of the house. True, she did not want to speak to Mr. Darcy, but she had never shied away from a confrontation with that man before. Indeed, in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth had on more than one occasion gone out of her way to provoke him. But Elizabeth was not in Hertfordshire. She was here in London, and yesterday she had trod in Mr. Darcy's realm. And she had quailed at the prospect of meeting him on his own ground. Elizabeth despised herself for her cowardice. Surely she wouldn't balk at the chance to do it again

Elizabeth had to admit that she relished her skirmishes with the arrogant Mr. Darcy. She enjoyed knocking him off his high and mighty pedestal. It made him vulnerable, more human. And Mr. Darcy, it seemed, was not afraid of their battles. He tolerated her assaults far better than Elizabeth ever expected him to. In fact, he seemed to enjoy them as much as she did. Elizabeth pulled on a pair of gloves as she pondered this. Mr. Darcy, indeed, seemed to enjoy arguing with her, except for their last meeting at Netherfield; when the subject of George Wickham came up, Mr. Darcy seemed to lose his sense of humor. The thought of Mr. Wickham quickly brought any and all charitable thoughts of Mr. Darcy to a screeching halt. Elizabeth started down the stairs to join her aunt. She paused on the steps and drew Olivia's note from her reticule. She paid no attention to its contents, which read: I hope this note finds you well and unharmed by your travails. Come to me first thing in the morning. Instead, Elizabeth stared at the Darcy crest embossed on the wax seal. How had Olivia come to be using Mr. Darcy's seal?

"Come Lizzy! The carriage is waiting!" Maria's voice cut through Elizabeth's agitated imaginings, and she hastened to the carriage where Mrs. Gardiner and Maria awaited her. Elizabeth smiled an apology as the carriage rode away from Gracechurch Street and wondered how her sister was faring after her encounter with Mr. Bingley the previous evening. Before Elizabeth had a chance to reflect on the matter (she cursed herself for being so caught up in her own misery to take much notice of what had transpired between the pair), she was deposited in ______ Street at Miss Crenshaw's door.

• • •

"Good morning, Darcy. How are you feeling?" asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with characteristic cheerfulness. Mr. Darcy cautiously lifted his head slightly and squinted at his cousin with one eye. After a second, he carefully lowered his head and shut his eyes tightly as the Colonel noisily pulled a chair close to the head of the bed.

"What are you doing here, Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy asked. He was well aware of what had happened the day before--painfully aware that he had concussed himself while in pursuit of a woman he thought was Elizabeth Bennet. He had been lying awake the past half-hour recalling every memory of that lady. He was now convinced, very nearly, anyway, that he had indeed seen her in the park while he was supposed to be helping Miss Crenshaw search for her friend, Miss Brown.

"I thought you might need some looking after," the Colonel replied, crossing his legs and leaning closer to observe Mr. Darcy's countenance. "So I availed myself of Aunt Catherine's favorite guest room, a bit of your best port, and made myself quite at home last evening. By the bye, when will my favorite guest room be finished?" he said with a twinkle in his eye. Mr. Darcy smiled, but didn't open his eyes. Colonel Fitzwilliam noticed this and frowned.

"Are you all right, Darce?" The Colonel asked with genuine concern.

"I have a bit of headache and double vision. I can stand the pain, but the sight of two of you is more than I can stomach just now," Mr. Darcy said, still smiling. The Colonel made a show of being greatly offended. He knew that Mr. Darcy wasn't watching, but he got a chuckle out of him nonetheless.

"Well! I know when I am not appreciated," the Colonel cried in mock indignation. He rose and walked to the door. "I have better things to do today anyway. Not everyone is repelled by the sight of me."

"Miss Crenshaw?"

"She asked me to call on her this morning," the Colonel replied, thinking about the promise she had made him the night before. He wondered how his cousin might react if he knew that the Colonel was on his way to meet Elizabeth Bennet.

"Sounds serious," Mr. Darcy said, somewhat hesitant to pry. The Colonel was drawn back to his seat by the tone of Mr. Darcy's voice.

"Do you approve?" Mr. Darcy smiled reassuringly.

"She's a lovely girl, Fitz."

"That she is. But I haven't any serious designs on her just yet," the Colonel replied, wondering which man he was lying to. He was suddenly glad his cousin's eyes were closed. He didn't feel equal to the scrutiny of the formidable Darcy glare. As if on cue, Mr. Darcy slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times. But rather than fixing his eyes on the Colonel, Mr. Darcy stared at the fabric canopy draped over his head. He seemed to be deeply introspective.

"She may be the one, Richard. If she is, do not let her get away," Mr. Darcy said in a low voice. The two sat in silence for a time. Colonel Fitzwilliam mulled over his cousin's words but could not bring himself to pursue them. They seemed to the Colonel as much a confession as an admonition. The Colonel eventually rose and took his leave, more curious than ever to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

• • •

Olivia fussed with a curl at the nape of her neck as she took one last look in the mirror. She sighed, declared her toilette complete, and carefully placed the ivory handled comb on the tray before her. She smoothed the fabric of her gown and turned around to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway.

"Lizzy!" Olivia squealed, and the friends shared a warm hug. When they parted, they sat on the bed, holding hands. Olivia spoke first. "Lizzy! What happened to you yesterday? You led us all on a merry chase!" Her tone was not accusatory. Olivia was more concerned about Elizabeth's future than she was about her past. Elizabeth's stomach knotted as she searched for words. She knew that sooner or later she'd have to tell Olivia the whole truth.

Elizabeth had always considered her sister Jane to be her best friend. But there are some things a girl just can't tell her sister, and Olivia had become a valuable confidant over the years. Corresponding by letter most of the time, Olivia and Elizabeth--or Livy and Lizzy, as they called themselves--cherished the precious few opportunities they had to meet in person each year. Elizabeth dearly wanted to confide in Olivia this morning, but she had reservations, not the least of which was that she didn't know the whole story herself.

"Us?" Elizabeth asked, with no small amount of dread.

"Yes. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy were kind enough to help me look for you yesterday." Elizabeth blanched. She pulled her hands away from Olivia's and went to stand by the window in a manner reminiscent of the man who currently occupied her thoughts.

"Oh. I had no idea I had inconvenienced your friends as well as yourself. I am sorry to have been so much trouble."

"You can apologize to the Colonel himself, if you wish. He plans to call this morning." Elizabeth's knuckles went as white as the lace of the curtain she had drawn back. But Olivia did not volunteer the information Elizabeth desperately wanted to hear.

"Why did you run off, Lizzy?" Olivia asked again, more casually this time, as if her answer would mean nothing to her at all. Elizabeth swallowed hard.

"I...I..." She turned and faced Olivia. "I don't know, Livy. I just panicked." There. The truth, as much as Elizabeth was willing to admit, was out.

"Panicked? Why should you have panicked, Lizzy?" Olivia asked with genuine curiosity. She knew, of course, that Elizabeth had run after seeing Mr. Darcy, but why should she have panicked?

"I...I was afraid that if Mr. Darcy saw me," Elizabeth managed, wringing her hands, "That he might mention seeing me to Miss Bingley. Surely they would suspect me of something, then, "she said, warming to the tale she was weaving. "I am sure they would have contrived to keep me from Mr. Bingley just as they did my sister. Seeing me would only have put them on their guard," she added with a flip of her wrist, "And ruined all chances of our achieving our goal." On the surface, this answer was plausible. If Mr. Darcy had indeed schemed with Miss Bingley to separate Mr. Bingley from Jane Bennet, then it may be supposed that neither person would welcome the sight of Elizabeth Bennet. And indeed, Elizabeth had been just as reluctant to confront Miss Bingley earlier. But something in Elizabeth's demeanor told a very different story and Olivia was determined to know every detail. The only question was how to unravel the delicate web of truths that Elizabeth had woven to get at--what? What was really going on between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet?

Elizabeth heard a carriage pull up outside the Crenshaw's townhouse, and looked out the window. The gentleman she had last seen with Mr. Darcy the previous afternoon was ascending the front steps. He glanced up at the window, and before Elizabeth could react, he smiled. He probably thinks I am Olivia, Elizabeth concluded as she turned away. She looked at Olivia, who was gazing at her abstractedly. Elizabeth grew uncomfortable, but the maid, who knocked at the door to inform Olivia that Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived, gave her a reprieve. Olivia took Elizabeth by the hand and led her downstairs to meet the Colonel. She wondered to herself if he could shed some light on the matter of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth got her first good look at Colonel Fitzwilliam as she entered the parlor, where he was sharing a hearty laugh with Olivia's father. A prominent attorney, Adam Crenshaw was a longtime friend of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. Mr. Crenshaw's older brother had been one of the late Mr. Darcy's closest childhood friends. As the youngest of three brothers, Mr. Crenshaw had not inherited title or fortune, but had made a name for himself through his profession. The Crenshaw family was also connected to Colonel Fitzwilliam through Olivia's older brother, also named Richard, who attended Cambridge with the Colonel. And Olivia's younger brother Edward was a lieutenant in the Colonel's regiment.

As Elizabeth entered, she observed the Colonel. He was tall, well built; ruggedly handsome, she supposed. Out of uniform, he vaguely reminded her of someone she knew. His smile was engaging, as was the earnestness of the gaze he returned with equal curiosity. The Colonel came forward and, to Elizabeth's surprise, introduced himself.

"Miss Bennet! I have been most eager to make your acquaintance. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at your service." He scraped a deep and dramatic bow. Elizabeth liked him immediately.

"I daresay your eagerness must stem from my unfortunate elusiveness yesterday. I apologize for denying you the pleasure of an earlier acquaintance, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth replied, her eyes sparkling with merriment. Mr. Crenshaw did not know what to make of Elizabeth's statement, and stared at her as she executed an elaborate curtsey to rival the Colonel's bow. The Colonel laughed delightedly, and then turned to greet Olivia. Mr. Crenshaw led Elizabeth to the settee and Olivia felt an unaccustomed pang of jealousy as the Colonel took a seat next to her. Olivia rang for tea and then sat in a chair by the fire.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, whose mind reeled with questions he knew he should not--or perhaps could not--ask, immediately engaged Elizabeth in conversation. He quickly inventoried Elizabeth's attributes as she assured him that she was not at all adversely affected by her adventure in the park. She's lovely: charming, nice figure, very pretty...and those eyes! he thought, as Elizabeth looked at the Colonel and smiled. She is amazing! And she has a sense of humor--not at all Darcy's type! Good for you, Miss Bennet! You've managed to crack the old boy's veneer.

"How did you come to know each other? " Elizabeth directed this question to Olivia, sensing that she was a bit put out at being ignored. Olivia did not answer immediately, and her father volunteered the information.

"Oh, the Crenshaws, Fitzwilliams, and Darcys have been friends for at least two generations. My father, the Earl, and the late Mr. Darcy were as thick as thieves as boys," he said with a laugh. He told a brief anecdote or two and remarked, "And now my youngest boy, Edward, serves under the Colonel." Elizabeth couldn't follow the entire conversation; her interest was piqued, however, by the mention of the Darcy name. The maid brought in the tea things. Mr. Crenshaw excused himself, pleading a business obligation, and Olivia got up to pour the tea.

"And how did you come to know the Crenshaws, Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked, leaning a little toward her. Olivia banged the teapot onto the tray, causing the Colonel to flinch. He turned and eyed her curiously. Olivia sheepishly bowed her head.

"My Aunt Gardiner and the late Mrs. Crenshaw were lifelong friends. They grew up together in Derbyshire." The Colonel cautiously returned his gaze to Elizabeth.

"Really! Darcy and I were raised in Derbyshire. Where did your Aunt Gardiner grow up, Miss Bennet?" As the Colonel searched Elizabeth's face for any sign of a reaction to the mention of his cousin, Olivia handed the Colonel a cup of tea. Before Elizabeth could answer, Olivia inquired as to the health of Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, he's recovering," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied as Olivia surreptitiously glanced at Elizabeth. "I spoke with him before I left this morning and he seems much improved." The Colonel noted, with satisfaction, that he had gained Elizabeth's undivided attention. She opened her mouth, then closed it, attempting to hide the gesture behind her teacup.

"I do feel so sorry about his accident," Olivia said with a heavy sigh, as she sat down. The Colonel now eyed Olivia suspiciously. Elizabeth could not resist the bait.

"Has something happened to Mr. Darcy?" she asked. She tried to sound disinterested, but the note of alarm in her voice betrayed her.

"Oh! Of course, you would not have heard. Mr. Darcy was injured yesterday while he was helping us to search for you." Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned at Olivia; her tone was clearly intended to imply that Elizabeth was somehow responsible for his cousin's accident. What was she playing at?

"Oh dear," Elizabeth said, rising and putting her hand to her mouth. A moment later she recovered her composure and went to the tea tray to refill her cup. Olivia looked at the Colonel with raised eyebrows. The Colonel gave her a slightly disapproving look.

"Do you know my cousin, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth had to fight to keep from spilling her tea. Fortunately, her back was to her inquisitor. She carefully put the cup down on the tray and pretended to busy herself with adding milk.

"Yes," she said, trying to sound unaffected. "I met Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire last autumn." She slowly returned to her seat, willing herself to be calm. After all, why should this bit of news unnerve her? She forced herself to look the Colonel in the eye. Of course! Same height, a certain inflection in his speech, something in his features...even similar mannerisms! She recalled his curt bow to her yesterday, and the way he stood as he spoke to Miss Crenshaw. And when Elizabeth had entered the room a while ago, he had looked at her with open curiosity in a manner reminiscent of Mr. Darcy's. The Colonel was gazing at her even now, twisting the signet ring on his middle finger. Even his coat reminded her of him! Elizabeth squirmed slightly, disturbed by the realization that she had such an intimate acquaintance with the habits of a man she claimed to despise.

"Yes, I remember him speaking fondly of his time in Hertfordshire." It was Elizabeth's turn to raise her eyebrows, but she let the remark pass unchallenged and inquired as to the nature of Mr. Darcy's accident. The Colonel quickly answered in order to forestall Olivia's response. He heartily wished that he had arrived earlier and had had a chance to speak with Miss Crenshaw before Miss Bennet's arrival. She was obviously as curious as he was about Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy, but Miss Crenshaw seemed to be out of sorts this morning and was going about things in a heavy-handed manner.

"We had been searching for you for some time when Mr. Darcy thought he saw you. We headed off across the lawn in order to cut you off, however, my cousin was waylaid by an errant branch." Elizabeth looked confused. "He walked into a low-hanging tree branch, Miss Bennet, and concussed himself." The Colonel sat back and folded his arms.

"Oh my!" Elizabeth replied. She neither knew what else to say nor did she trust herself to say anything further.

"Do you know my cousin very well?"

"No...no, not very well, although we were often thrown into company together." Elizabeth said, looking at Olivia, who seemed content to just listen to the interrogation.

"Darcy rather liked his time in Hertfordshire," Colonel Fitzwilliam repeated, enigmatically. This time, Elizabeth could not help herself. The words fairly exploded from her mouth.

"Really, Colonel! I should have thought that Mr. Darcy did not enjoy his time in Hertfordshire at all."

"Why should you think that, Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked with interest. Olivia was equally intrigued.

"Well," she paused, slightly taken aback by the eager stares directed at her. She lowered her cup to her lap to quell the shaking of her hands. "He did not seem to get on at all with the locals there. I believe Mr. Darcy found our society...unsatisfactory." The Colonel threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh, I can certainly believe that, Miss Bennet. Darcy can be a terrible snob at times." He sobered slightly, and added, "But I distinctly recall him speaking very fondly of Hertfordshire in his letters so there must have been something in the district to make his tenure there tolerable." Elizabeth found herself blushing. The Colonel grinned like a Cheshire cat.

• • •

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I should be delighted." Elizabeth placed a gloved hand into Mr. Darcy's and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The pair joined the line of dancers and began to move to the music. After an unsuccessful attempt at engaging him in conversation, Elizabeth chided Mr. Darcy.

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." Mr. Darcy was too close to rapture to think of anything clever to say. He just smiled, therefore, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?" Mr. Darcy asked, his eyes riveted to Elizabeth's.

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"

"Both," replied Elizabeth archly, "For I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. Mr. Darcy glanced sidelong at Elizabeth. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly." He prayed for a denial, but she continued to toy with him.

"I must not decide on my own performance." Elizabeth turned then, and Mr. Darcy fixed his gaze upon the bouncing ringlets at the nape of her neck.

"Your performance is...enchanting, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth stopped in her tracks momentarily, and then continued her steps in the circle. She was drawn by the dance a little distance from Mr. Darcy. She swallowed hard, not believing her ears. When she was reunited with her partner, she gave him an encouraging smile.

"You are too kind, sir."

"I speak as I find," Mr. Darcy replied, remembering Elizabeth's retort of a few weeks earlier. He felt a slight pressure: had Elizabeth just squeezed his hand? Was Elizabeth Bennet falling in love with him? This was too good to be true. No. This could not be happening. What was he thinking? He could not allow himself to be induced into an attachment to such a girl. She was probably an adventuress after all, like all the others.

"Blast!" Darcy bolted upright in his bed and immediately regretted it as the pain of his concussion was added to the painful memories of his last meeting with Miss Bennet. He had played the scenario over and over in his head, trying to work it out to a different conclusion. But it was to no avail. He could not make things right. He could not reconcile his emotional attachment to Elizabeth with his sense of obligation to his social position, his family, or his rarified standards of what his future wife should be. And yet he could not erase her from his mind. He knew she was the one. Elizabeth Bennet had won his heart, and he had lost her forever.

• • •

As soon as the door closed behind Caroline Bingley, her brother's smile returned. Like a beacon from a lighthouse, his smile was sufficient to illuminate all he looked upon, and from Charles Bingley's vantage point, the world looked wonderful. He had first found his smile as he left the Gardiner residence the previous night. His smile had lit his way home, accompanied him to bed, and greeted him in the morning when he looked in the mirror. Charles Bingley was grinning like a fool, but he didn't care. He had found her! Jane Bennet was in London. He had seen her. He had spoken with her. He had touched her. She was real and beautiful and welcoming. For the first time in months, Charles Bingley was truly happy. About the only thing that could cast a shadow on his happiness was the fear of discovery. When he entered the breakfast room that morning, therefore, Mr. Bingley had shuttered his smile behind a bland façade. Unable to completely contain his joy, he hid behind a newspaper, much to the annoyance of his sister.

"Charles," Miss Bingley was saying, "When I returned to the house last night, Thomas told me that you had gone out." She buttered a piece of scone and took a delicate bite.

"Yes...yes. I met a...an acquaintance in the park yesterday afternoon..." Unsure of how to continue without whetting his sister's curiosity, Mr. Bingley stuck a piece of toast into his mouth as a stalling tactic. His mind raced furiously as he chewed. "I met an old acquaintance in the park, whom I had not seen in some time. I invited 'him' back here, and then later escorted 'him' home in my carriage."

"Didn't he have a carriage of his own?" Miss Bingley asked abstractedly with a shrug of her shoulders as she buttered another bit of scone. To her mind, someone who did not own his carriage wasn't worthy of notice. Mr. Bingley ignored the remark and held his newspaper in such a manner as to barricade him from his sister's scrutiny. That effectively ended the intercourse, and he began to relax a bit and actually read the news. But Miss Bingley was in the mood for conversation.

"Oh, Charles! I saw the most delightful hat at Mme. Depardieu's shop yesterday. It has the most wonderful little beads along its edge, and I am sure that Mister--." Miss Bingley caught herself and looked at her brother. Rather than arouse his suspicions, she had not so much as gained his attention. "Charles," she whined, turning down a corner of the newspaper. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, dear," he said with a sigh. He lowered the paper and listened as she began to describe the hat. Before she had completed her second sentence, Mr. Bingley interrupted.

"Caroline, surely you do not expect to engage me in a conversation about women's finery?" he said with just a hint of exasperation in his voice. Miss Bingley threw down her napkin with an elegant pout, then suddenly remembered something.

"You are supposed to dine with Mr. Darcy today, are you not?" Mr. Bingley paled. He had completely forgotten about his plans for luncheon at White's. "Do bring him back here for tea afterwards, Charles," she purred.

"Caroline, we are to see Darcy this evening at the theatre. We cannot monopolize all of the man's time." Miss Bingley's pout returned; she stood regally and swept out of the room.

It was now safe to smile again, but Mr. Bingley was worried. The last thing he needed right now was a few hours in Mr. Darcy's company. If dodging his sister had been difficult, this would be an ordeal. Mr. Darcy's powers of observation were easily twice those of his sister's. Mr. Bingley carefully arranged his features in a mirror. How many times had he heard Mr. Darcy say that he could read his face like a book? Mr. Bingley adjusted his hat and sighed. He could not avoid the appointment. But under no circumstances could Mr. Darcy be told of Miss Bennet's presence in town. If she does not love me, I at least now have the opportunity to win her affections. And, by George, I will. I must! He reached for his walking stick and turned toward the door. I won't let Darcy or my sisters deter me this time. I will win Jane Bennet to my suit and they shall not interfere.

"Might as well grab the bull by the horns," Mr. Bingley mumbled as he made his way to the carriage. To the coachman he ordered, "To Mr. Darcy's townhouse."

• • •

Elizabeth gaped at Colonel Fitzwilliam in disbelief. His meaning was unmistakable. Elizabeth felt her cheeks burning. She could feel rather than see Olivia watching her every move. She blinked and looked down at the cup that sat forgotten in her hands. She carefully placed it on the table as she struggled for composure. Had Mr. Darcy spoken of Elizabeth in his letters? She refused to credit it--Colonel Fitzwilliam was apparently teasing her. Yes, she decided, it was some sort of joke. If the Colonel knew the true nature of our relationship he would have picked a more likely target for this charade. I could never be mistaken for the object of Mr. Darcy's affection! And Olivia Crenshaw--surely she did not believe such nonsense! But Elizabeth knew that Olivia had no reason not to believe the Colonel. She determined to set the matter straight.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said with a playfulness she did not feel. "Are you always such a terrible tease? You will have Olivia believing that Mr. Darcy and I shared a grand amour when in fact, we scarcely knew one another."

"Am I?" the Colonel replied, quite amused. This is most revealing! "I do not recall mentioning any names, Miss Bennet." The Colonel's eyes twinkled, and Elizabeth wanted to scratch the sparkle out of them as her cheeks reddened again. He had trapped her and she knew it. She stole a glance at Olivia who was sharing a knowing glance with the Colonel. Elizabeth gasped. The Colonel and Miss Crenshaw--her dear friend-- were obviously conspiring against her! Elizabeth was shocked.

Olivia rose and fussed with the teacups, purposefully breaking the tension. Elizabeth didn't know where to look, so she rose and went to the window. As soon as she reached it she caught herself and turned instead to the pianoforte in the corner. The Crenshaw's townhouse--although spacious and comfortable--had no proper music room; their evenings in town, therefore, were often spent listening to music in the parlor. Elizabeth sat on the bench and began leafing through the sheets of music. She knew she was being rude, but she felt unequal to returning to her companions at the moment. Olivia asked Elizabeth to play something, and Elizabeth gladly complied. While she played, the Colonel pulled Miss Crenshaw down on the settee beside him.

"Miss Crenshaw," he whispered, not turning his eyes from Elizabeth, "What are you up to?" Olivia was genuinely surprised by the question.

"Whatever do you mean, sir?" Colonel Fitzwilliam did not reply immediately. He waited until the adagio was completed, and spoke again when Elizabeth began a light, lyrical piece with sufficient volume to mask the sound of his speech.

"You practically accused Miss Bennet of luring Darcy into a trap. You know as well as I do that Darcy's accident was no more her fault than it was yours or mine!"

"What am I up to?" Olivia's voice rose as she colored. " You--. " The music stopped. Elizabeth was looking at the couple quizzically.

"I apologize, Miss Bennet," the Colonel said, rising. Olivia also rose, sheepishly staring at the floor.

"Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked her conspirators. They glanced at each other, uncertain of how to respond. Elizabeth took pity on them. "I am afraid I must be leaving," she said as she closed the pianoforte and crossed the room. "Aunt Gardiner is expecting me to return early. I have to pack for my trip tomorrow, and then get ready for the theatre tonight." Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately offered Elizabeth the use of Darcy's carriage, hastily inviting Miss Crenshaw to join them for the ride. Elizabeth chose to walk, however. She craved fresh air and solitude. She hastily took her leave, perplexed by the scene she had just witnessed. She shook her head and started for Gracechurch Street.

"A concussion?" Mr. Bingley appeared shocked. "How on earth did Darcy get a concussion, Harris?"

The butler explained as he showed Mr. Bingley to the reception room. "It is not very serious sir, but the doctor did prescribe bed rest."

"Well, is he allowed visitors?" Mr. Bingley asked. His look of worry moved the butler to make inquiries. While he waited, Mr. Bingley tried to take it all in. He himself had been in the park yesterday afternoon. To think that while he was enjoying a pleasant chat with Elizabeth Bennet, his closest friend was lying injured not far away.

"He will see you, sir," Mr. Harris said in his distinctive grave tone. He led Mr. Bingley to his master's chambers and opened the door, at Mr. Darcy's request, without knocking.

"Darcy! This is dreadful news. Most dreadful!" Mr. Bingley said as he swept past the butler and claimed a chair by the bed. He looked into Mr. Darcy's pained eyes. "Good God, man!" he said in a softer tone. "You look awful!" Mr. Darcy winced, a gesture that could as easily have been mistaken for a smile, however brief. Mr. Bingley sat back, a bit relieved. Mr. Darcy did look haggard. His face was wan, his eyes slightly puffy from sleep, his hair in disarray. He turned his face away from his friend.

"How are you, Bingley," he said quietly. Mr. Bingley patted him on the shoulder.

"Very well, my friend, very well. And so shall you soon be." Mr. Bingley sat quietly by the bed. Within a few minutes, however, Mr. Darcy's spirits began to rally and he and Mr. Bingley made light conversation. "I suppose I will have to tell Caroline about this," Mr. Bingley teased. "When you don't appear at the theatre tonight she'll demand an explanation." Mr. Darcy groaned audibly.

"Can you not just tell her that I was unavoidably detained by some matter of business? If you tell her that I am ill, I will never--."

"Are you suggesting that I lie to my sister, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley tried to appear shocked. "Perhaps I should tell her that you were out booking passage for America," he laughed as he began to contrive elaborate excuses to try on Caroline. Mr. Darcy listened and was quite amused. He turned to look at Mr. Bingley. Surprised at what he saw in his face, Mr. Darcy struggled to sit up and confront his friend.

"What has happened to you Charles?" You are as giddy as a schoolgirl! What have you been up to, man?" Mr. Bingley's face immediately fell and he cursed himself for letting his guard down.

"I am sorry, Darcy. I did not mean to be disruptive. You just seemed so depressed when I came in, I thought to try and cheer you." One glance told Mr. Darcy that the story was a falsehood.

"What have you been up to, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy repeated, his own pain forgotten. He thought back to his late meeting with Charles Bingley but a few days ago. The man before him bore little resemblance to the quiet, forlorn creature Mr. Bingley had become since his return to London. He has seen Jane Bennet! It must be so--nothing else could rouse him to this degree. Mr. Darcy ran a hand through his hair. He could not ask Mr. Bingley; to do so would reveal his own duplicity in the scheme to keep Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley apart. Mr. Darcy tried to calm himself. He lay back on the pillows and watched Mr. Bingley closely.

Mr. Bingley, for his part, immediately recognized the danger signs. He knew that Mr. Darcy was onto something and that he would hold onto it with the tenacity of a fish swimming upstream. He decided to take a calculated risk. It could blow up in his face, but it might buy him the time he needed. If Fitzwilliam Darcy knew his weakness, Mr. Bingley certainly knew Mr. Darcy's. He looked Mr. Darcy in the eye.

"You will never guess whom I met in the park yesterday afternoon," he said, flashing the full radiance of his smile.

"Why are you changing the subject, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy asked smugly. He folded his arms across his chest and peered at the younger man. If he expected Mr. Bingley to crack, however, he was disappointed. Mr. Bingley casually got up and began to stroll around the room. "Quit stalling, Bingley," Mr. Darcy intoned from his bed. Mr. Bingley continued to smile as he scanned a pair of fine hunting prints hung near the large mahogany bureau. Then he stopped at the bureau and began to pick up and examine each object on a silver tray containing Mr. Darcy's personal effects.

"I am not stalling, Darcy," he said as he read To George From Anne, 1775 engraved on a fine gold pocket watch. "I am merely attempting to answer your question." He next picked up and hefted the penknife he himself had given Mr. Darcy as a young man some years ago. "Do you want to know or not?" Mr. Bingley asked as he picked up a small square Sterling silver pillbox that had belonged to Mr. Darcy's mother. Mr. Bingley knew that Mr. Darcy always carried it. He was tempted to shake it; Mr. Darcy might use it to carry snuff but Mr. Bingley had never known Mr. Darcy to indulge in the substance. And since he had never seen Mr. Darcy ill a day in his life, Mr. Bingley sincerely doubted that it contained any pills.

"I am in no mood for games, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said as he rolled his eyes. He immediately felt a wave of dizzying pain. He closed his eyes and lay back. As the pain subsided, Mr. Darcy opened his eyes once more and turned his head toward the bureau. His eyes suddenly grew wide with terror. Mr. Bingley was oblivious, however, as he picked up a small Sterling silver vial. Smelling salts? Darcy? Mr. Bingley instinctively glanced at his friend, who looked stricken, as if he was about to cry out but was too agitated to speak. Mr. Bingley replaced the vial and hurried to the bed.

"Darcy?"

"Out with it, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said tersely, trying to mask his brief panic. Mr. Bingley very nearly lost his resolve. He knew that Mr. Darcy was not well. It might not be fair to do this to him just now. Mr. Darcy, now fully recovered, sat up and silently dared him. Mr. Bingley threw down his trump card.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet." The three words had their desired effect. Jane Bennet was no longer a threat to Mr. Darcy's complacency. He just sat, mouth and eyes agape, his mind and heart reeling at this revelation.

I knew it! He is as besotted with Elizabeth as I am with Jane. The hypocrite! The dirty deed accomplished, Mr. Bingley turned to leave, then thought better of it. Taking pity on his friend, he went to the chair and sat down quietly.

• • •

As soon as Elizabeth Bennet left the parlor, Olivia wheeled on a startled Colonel Fitzwilliam and resumed her argument. After the initial shock of the sudden attack, however, the Colonel didn't really pay attention. He was too interested in contemplating what he'd learned from Miss Bennet.

"You are not even listening to me!" The Colonel looked down into a pair of large brown eyes. Olivia was standing on her toes in a fairly laughable attempt at being menacing as she vented her frustration. The Colonel suppressed the urge to laugh as Olivia began to totter. She raised her hands to his chest to steady herself and fell silent as the Colonel placed his hands on her waist at the same moment. The Colonel, his senses assaulted by Olivia's close proximity, gently pushed her back so that she was an arm's distance away. Olivia couldn't take her eyes from his.

"Can we not discuss this rationally, Miss Crenshaw?" the Colonel said in a voice universally reserved for calming hysterical children. The mute lady backed away and nodded. She felt herself blushing and finally lowered her head. The Colonel, also aware of his narrow escape, began to pace the room. He stopped to examine a small portrait of Olivia on the wall as he asked, "What are we doing?" He turned to Olivia and waited for a response with his hands behind his back.

"Excuse me, sir?" Olivia was baffled. Was he speaking about Elizabeth, or about what had just transpired between the two of them? She felt her pulse quicken. The Colonel began to pace again.

"Why are two reasonably mature and sensible people meddling in the private affairs of two other reasonably mature and sensible people, who, I am sure, would not appreciate our interference?"

"I never endeavored to interfere in the private matters between Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, Colonel," Olivia said, rising. Her eyes flashed. "You are the one who all but said that Mr. Darcy was in love with Lizzy."

"I did no such thing," he replied with equal vehemence. He strode over to Olivia and found himself nose to nose (or rather, chin to nose) with her once more. He stopped and took a step back. Olivia began to redden again (rather prettily, Colonel Fitzwilliam thought) and he turned away.

"Did Mr. Darcy really mention Lizzy in his letters to you?" Olivia asked after a few moments.

"I never said he did. Darcy found several things to like in Hertfordshire--the hunting, the scenery, the serenity. He wrote of all these things in his letters to me. He also wrote that he had met with only one person he found remotely interesting in Hertfordshire. He never mentioned any name." The Colonel turned back to Olivia. "I do recall, however, that he wrote of spending time with a Miss Bennet at Netherfield in his letter to his sister. I remember Georgiana asking me about her. I could not answer her inquiries since I had not yet met the lady. But taken together, the evidence suggests that the only 'interesting' person Darcy found in Hertfordshire is Elizabeth Bennet."

"Really?" said Olivia, as the wheels began to turn. "It may interest you to know, Colonel, that Elizabeth Bennet despises Mr. Darcy."

"What?" the Colonel's surprise was evident and Olivia relished her coup.

"At least she claims to despise him." Olivia now began to pace. "It may also interest you to know the real reason why Lizzy ran off yesterday."

"Do tell, Miss Crenshaw," pleaded the Colonel with that irresistible smile.

"She saw Mr. Darcy." The Colonel furrowed his brows. "She ran because she did not want him to see her."

"She said that?" the Colonel stopped Olivia and looked deep into her eyes.

"She said that she was afraid that if Mr. Darcy saw her he might try and interfere in her efforts to reunite Mr. Bingley and her sister, Jane." Colonel Fitzwilliam, who still wasn't totally clear on Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet's history, discounted that part of the story and focused on the principals.

"Elizabeth Bennet ran from the sight of Darcy?" He mulled it over in his head. "And yet she seemed very interested in his welfare a few minutes ago."

"That might be out of a sense of guilt," Olivia said meekly.

"Yes. She might feel guilty, indeed, Miss Crenshaw," he replied with a slight smirk. "But I do not think so. You saw how she blushed at my little 'disclosure.'"

"What of it? Any woman might blush under such circumstances," Olivia reasoned as she took a seat.

"Not if she hated the man. No, no, her blush definitely spoke of flattery, surprise. That was not a flush of anger or hatred," the Colonel said with certainty. "A woman does not blush when--."

"Oh, and are you an expert on ladies' blushes, Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Olivia said with a batting of her long eyelashes. The Colonel bit down on his instinctive reply, and reminded himself that he was in the presence of the lady...who had an amazing ability to drive him to distraction. He tried to remain focused.

"I know anger when I see it, madam," the Colonel managed, averting his eyes from Olivia's. "And if Miss Bennet claims to despise my cousin I think 'the lady doth protest too much'."

"So what do we do about it, Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Olivia asked, conspiratorially. The Colonel's eyes met Olivia's.

"That is precisely my point, Miss Crenshaw. What right have we to do anything about it?"

• • •

"You saw her in the park," Mr. Darcy said in a monotone. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he should be feigning disinterest but he could only manage to keep his voice steady. He looked at Mr. Bingley. "When--uh, what is she doing in London?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Just passing through, she said. Miss Bennet is on her way to visit friends somewhere in the country," Mr. Bingley replied, carefully choosing his words. He knew that the mention of Elizabeth Bennet's name would arouse Mr. Darcy's interest but he didn't want to have to answer too many questions.

"So you did speak with her." Mr. Darcy fought to keep his voice even. He wanted to ask a million questions. What was she wearing? Where did he find her? Was she alone? Where is she now? He swallowed and tried to sound casual. "Was she in good health?"

"Oh, yes," Mr. Bingley declared. "And all her family as well." Mr. Darcy turned to peer at Mr. Bingley.

"All her family?" The image of Jane Bennet crowded into his addled mind, but only her sister mattered to him now.

"Yes. She said that her parents and sisters were all well."

"She is not in town alone? She must be traveling with someone." Mr. Bingley began to feel warm, but he persevered.

"She is traveling with Sir William Lucas and one of his daughters, Miss Maria, I think it was. She's staying with her and uncle in Gracechurch Street. Lovely people." Mr. Darcy leapt upon this bit of information.

"You met them?" His tone was slightly incredulous. He had seen Elizabeth quite alone in the park. Where had Mr. Bingley seen her relatives?

"Oh yes. I offered Miss Bennet a ride home and she invited me in to meet her aunt and uncle and to see my Hertfordshire neighbors," Mr. Bingley said easily, although Mr. Darcy's imperious stare, weakened by his constant headache as it was, continued unchecked.

"She was so far from Gracechurch Street without a carriage?" Mr. Darcy was suspicious.

"Come now, Darcy," Mr. Bingley chided, "You sound like Caroline."

"And did Miss Bingley like being reacquainted with Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy retorted. He waited for Mr. Bingley's response with a small smirk about his lips.

"They were not reacquainted. Caroline was at her friend's house at the time. I was returning from the club and decided to cut across the park since it was such a lovely afternoon. I saw a familiar-looking woman pass me by as I was walking. It took me a minute to realize who it was. I turned back and caught up with her."

That is a mistake, Bingley, that I would never make. "And she had not recognized you either?"

"I say, Darcy! You are full of questions for a sick man! Are you not supposed to be taking it easy?" Mr. Bingley said with a laugh.

"Just making conversation, Bingley," Mr. Darcy lied. He lay back on the pillows. "Do you not think it extraordinary that you should meet Miss Bennet here in London?"

"Why not, Darcy? She managed to meet us in Hertfordshire!" Mr. Bingley was purposefully obtuse and Mr. Darcy surrendered. Mr. Bingley rose to leave.

"Any messages for Caroline?" he asked as he opened the door. He quickly shut it behind him as the pillow came flying at his head. It closed with a resounding thud. Mr. Bingley cringed as he heard Mr. Darcy howl. As he drew on his gloves a few moments later, Mr. Bingley's smile returned. He had dealt with Mr. Darcy. Now he just had to figure out how to deal with his sister Caroline.

Three

—

Mr. Harris led Elizabeth Bennet to the sunlit drawing room of the Darcy townhouse and asked her to wait while he spoke with the master. Elizabeth was impressed by the pale peach color of the walls, which stood in striking contrast to the deep tones used on the upholstery throughout the room. Mr. Darcy had ordered the room repainted in that color on his return from Hertfordshire, according to some of the household staff, to match the complexion of a certain lady. Speculation about the identity of that lady ran rampant below stairs. Of course, Elizabeth knew nothing of the rumors as she did a brief tour of the room, admiring both Mr. Darcy's taste and restraint in the décor. She settled into the window seat and laughed at the antics of a pair of squirrels in the stately tree just outside the window. Elizabeth stopped laughing, however, as she recalled the purpose of her visit. She had come out of concern for Mr. Darcy. She was not certain of the reception she would receive but she had left Olivia's house feeling responsible for his injury. She should at least pay her respects, even if Mr. Darcy would not welcome them.

Elizabeth stood up, wrung her hands, and began to pace the room. She heard a commotion behind her and turned as a footman opened the wide oak doors. A second footman wheeled in Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth paled and covered her mouth with a hand to hide her gasp. She had not expected this! Mr. Darcy did not look weak or pale. Indeed, he looked far too robust and virile to be confined to a wheelchair. How could he have suffered so much in the space of twenty-four hours! Elizabeth cautiously stepped forward as Mr. Darcy was wheeled to a spot near the fire. Elizabeth's pulse quickened as he reached out to take her hand.

"Mr. Darcy, I came as soon as I learned of your accident. Colonel Fitzwilliam told me you were not badly injured, but evidently he was only trying to spare my feelings." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Mr. Darcy this is all my fault. I never intended for such a thing to happen- -I- -I cannot explain my behavior yesterday, but I shall never forgive myself..."

"No, no, Miss Bennet. You are in no way responsible for my accident. Whatever made you think that you were?" Mr. Darcy's gentle smile did nothing to diminish her pain. Elizabeth sat in the chair the footman had pulled up close to Mr. Darcy's own imposing mahogany chair.

"Mr. Darcy," she began, "I must make a confession. Yesterday you assisted my friend, Olivia Crenshaw, in a search for someone in _____ Park. What you do not know is that person was me." Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to look Mr. Darcy in the eye, but had she done so, she would have seen a wry smile suffusing his features. "I was out walking with Miss Crenshaw, you see, and when she stopped to speak with a gentleman--." She paused, unsure of how much of the truth she should reveal. "Well, to make a long story short, I wandered off and got lost, which lead to Colonel Fitzwilliam and yourself becoming involved in the search for me, and that, of course, lead to your accident." Her voice lost volume as she spoke. She stared at the tartan blanket on Mr. Darcy's lap, and would not look up. Mr. Darcy studied her eyelashes as he thought through his response. A single tear ran down Elizabeth's cheek and he reached out to wipe it away with a thumb. She looked up then and his questions no longer seemed important. Elizabeth was there beside him. That was all that mattered.

"You must not blame yourself for my accident. It was quite my own fault, I assure you. If I had been paying better attention to where I was walking...no matter. My doctors expect me to make a full recovery in time. You must not trouble yourself, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth looked up then and her eyes locked with Mr. Darcy's. He reached out and took her hand, but she pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it. Mr. Darcy looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. Elizabeth returned the smile and two hearts that had so long been divided were finally one.

"Lizzy!" Jane poked her head into the room where Elizabeth sat on a small bench having her hair done. "Oh, Lizzy, you look beautiful!" That color is perfect on you!" Jane went to the dressing table and began looking for something. "Lizzy, I have run out of lavender water. May I borrow some of yours?" Once again, Jane got no response from her sister, who sat as still as a statue while the maid wove gold ribbons through her hair. "Lizzy? Are you all right?" Elizabeth continued to stare, unseeing, at her reflection. The maid completed her work and departed. Jane sat on the edge of the bed, her quest for lavender water forgotten. Elizabeth slowly turned her head and looked at her sister.

"Yes, Jane," she said in a strained voice. Jane wasn't completely convinced, but there was no time to pursue the matter.

"Here," she said, handing Elizabeth a black velvet cloak. "Aunt Gardiner said that since you are more endowed than me you should wear this. I am wearing her burgundy coat. It is so stylish!" she gushed. "Oh, Lizzy! Tonight is going to be wonderful!"

"Your enthusiasm would not have anything at all to do with the strong likelihood of encountering a certain Mr. Bingley at the theatre, would it?" Elizabeth, now fully recovered, asked over an arched brow. Jane's smile was sufficient reply, but Jane had been eager for an opportunity to confide in her sister.

"Until yesterday, I never thought I would see him again, but when I did it was as if we were never apart!"

"Did he explain his sudden departure from Hertfordshire last year?" Elizabeth queried.

"I would not dare ask such a thing! We barely spoke of Hertfordshire at all. Oh, Lizzy, I can hardly believe that Mr. Bingley walked through that door yesterday! It was like a dream!

"A dream," repeated Elizabeth, her mind now torn between concern for her sister and the disturbing daydream she had just endured. "Be careful, Jane," Elizabeth cautioned. Ever since her chat with Colonel Fitzwilliam earlier she'd felt a sense of dread. It wasn't his teasing about Mr. Darcy that bothered her; rather, it was his suggestion that Mr. Darcy had seen Elizabeth in the park that haunted her. If, as she strongly suspected, he had played a role in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane, her sister might be rushing toward a second heartbreak.

"I will be fine, Lizzy." Jane paused to watch Elizabeth don the cloak over her new gown, a gift from her aunt and uncle. "You do look lovely, Lizzy. I am sure even Mr. Darcy would approve!" she cried, and whisked out of the room. Elizabeth whirled to glare at her retreating figure.

• • •

Colonel Fitzwilliam's heels beat out a sharp tattoo as he strode down the marble floor. He found Mr. Harris dressing down a young footman outside Mr. Darcy's study. When the butler had dismissed the unfortunate youth, he walked upstairs with the Colonel and gave him a brief report.

"He seems somewhat improved, sir. He is eating normally, no signs of nausea or vomiting, and no signs of further damage. Mr. Bingley came by and visited with the master for a while, sir." He paused. "Mr. Darcy is a little out of humor, but he never did take well to confinement." With thirty years of service to the Darcy estates under his belt, Mr. Harris spoke of the master with a surety that the Colonel dared not question. The veteran of several military campaigns, Colonel Fitzwilliam literally knew more about concussions than he could remember. He trod lightly, therefore, as he passed his cousin's door.

"Miss Bennet!" The figure a few yards ahead of him turned at the sound of her name.

"Mister Darcy!" Her surprise at being addressed by him was evident.

"How do you do, Miss Bennet," he said, with a tip of his hat. Elizabeth gave a brief curtsey.

"Mr. Darcy! You have no idea how glad I am to see a familiar face. I am afraid I have gotten myself quite lost." Her words came out in a rush. The wind picked up suddenly and she unsuccessfully attempted to bat a stray curl out of her eyes. Mr. Darcy deftly caught the offending strand between his thumb and forefinger. Elizabeth took it from him and blushed becomingly as she tucked it into her bonnet.

"Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure, madam," he replied with a gallant bow. "You were saying, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. But her mortification at having to rely on Mr. Darcy for help was overcome by her desperation.

"I was saying, sir, that I am quite lost and was hoping I might prevail upon you for assistance."

"I thought you seemed awfully far from Meryton, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy quipped. Elizabeth's mouth fell open. Mr. Darcy grinned impishly. "How may I be of service?"

"If you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of --." Elizabeth began, but Mr. Darcy quickly interrupted.

"Perhaps it would be best--given the late hour, Miss Bennet--if I were to simply escort you wherever you wish to go." He offered his arm to a stunned Elizabeth, who took it, and they began to walk. Elizabeth had not given Mr. Darcy her direction. In truth, she had been so struck by the alteration in his behavior that she had forgotten about it. For his part, Mr. Darcy was content merely to be in Elizabeth's company. They strolled for some minutes in silence. Elizabeth glanced up at her companion. Mr. Darcy was smiling!

"May I ask you something, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, of course, Miss Bennet," he replied.

"Do you have a twin brother?" The object of her joke laughed so merrily, Elizabeth was certain that this man, as well as the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire, were complete strangers to her.

The valet who had brought a carafe of fresh water to place on his master's nightstand was surprised to see a smile playing across Mr. Darcy's lips. The man took it as a sign that his master was on the mend and said a silent prayer of thanks as he left the room.

• • •

Down the hall, Colonel Fitzwilliam loosened his cravat and carelessly tossed it on a chair. His waistcoat quickly followed. The Colonel kicked off his boots and threw himself on the bed. His visit with Miss Crenshaw had not ended well. He wished they could take back some of the harsh words they had exchanged. He rolled over on his back and covered his eyes with a forearm.

"That is precisely my point, Miss Crenshaw. What right have we to do anything about it?"

"Do you not think that two people so well suited to each other should be encouraged?" Olivia pleaded.

"I do not know that they are well suited. Obviously, Darcy did not think so. He left Hertfordshire without her," the Colonel reasoned.

"Mr. Darcy left Hertfordshire because of Mr. Bingley," Olivia retorted.

"According to your Miss Bennet," the Colonel replied. "And, according to your Miss Bennet, Darcy did not approve of Mr. Bingley's infatuation with Jane Bennet."

"So?"

"So, Miss Crenshaw, it stands to reason that if Darcy did not approve of one Bennet he would hardly approve of the other. Do you really think he could separate his closest friend from the woman he loved and yet have the temerity to pursue her sister?" An awkward silence ensued as Olivia digested his argument.

"But Mr. Darcy has done Mr. Bingley a grievous wrong!" Olivia cried with passion.

"According to Miss Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected. Olivia shot him a withering glance.

"Look Colonel, if we could bring Mr. Darcy and Lizzy together, that would clear the way for Jane and Mr. Bingley." She cut off the Colonel's response. "Do you not see? If we could only make Mr. Darcy and Lizzy realize that they are in love with one another then all four of them can find happiness." Olivia sat down with a satisfied smile, revealing a tiny dimple in each cheek.

"'We' Miss Crenshaw? I don't want any part of manipulating two people--or four, for that matter--who may have perfectly valid reasons for remaining apart!" the Colonel declared.

"Jane and Mr. Bingley's only reason for being apart is the cruel interference of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sisters," Olivia hissed through clenched teeth. The Colonel tried to defuse her anger.

"We only have Miss Bennet's word on that." Olivia bristled at his repetition. "We have not heard from any of the other parties involved. Perhaps Mr. Bingley simply lost interest in the lady; maybe there is another woman! Perhaps--."

"Perhaps you are just as arrogant and self-righteous as your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam! Perhaps," she shouted, "You also think the Bennets unworthy of your cousin or his friend!"

"Miss Crenshaw!" the shocked Colonel declared, rising to his feet. "I think nothing of the kind!" He paused and softened his voice. "I just think you ought to be very careful. There may be things about all this that you don't know.'

"I know that my dear friend Jane has been sitting in a house on Gracechurch Street these past two months with a broken heart. I know that Mr. Darcy played some role in that heartbreak. I know that Mr. Darcy is in love with Elizabeth Bennet. And I know," Olivia said, her voice rising in volume again, "That you are hypocritical, stubborn, and --."

"How do you know?" the Colonel asked suddenly. Olivia's eyes flashed dangerously. "...About Darcy being in love, I mean," he added with a sweet smile. Disarmed by the question, and undoubtedly distracted by his smile, Olivia had to pause and think a second.

"You did not see his eyes yesterday," she said finally.

"I saw his eyes, Miss Crenshaw. They were dilated, unfocused, and occasionally crossed. Those are indicators of concussion, Miss Crenshaw, not love," the Colonel sneered.

"You did not see him when he was looking for Lizzy. You had gone off, then," she said with conviction.

"He had been knocked in the head! Perhaps he was delirious!"

"What difference does it make? Even in his delirium he only thought of her!" If the Colonel was impressed by this revelation he didn't show it. He thought again of his cousin's cryptic statement.

"Miss Crenshaw," he said evenly. "I do not think this is something you should meddle with. Worry about reuniting Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet if you must, or worry about your own love life, but do not go getting--."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do not seem to have a love life at the present time! Good day, sir." Olivia turned and stalked out of the room.

The Colonel stretched and turned on his side. He replayed the scene in his head again and again. He was still stung by the bitterness of Miss Crenshaw's tone. He was sorry he had provoked her--he hadn't intended for her to take his words that way. In truth, he couldn't say exactly what he meant by his ill-conceived statement. Miss Crenshaw always seemed to have a disturbing effect on his composure and the Colonel always found himself saying, thinking, or doing things he hadn't planned on when he was in her company. Maybe Darcy is right--she is the one. Olivia Crenshaw is destined to either be the love of my life or the bane of my existence. He definitely preferred the former, although he wasn't quite ready to tell her that just yet . He closed his eyes and soon dozed off.

A carillon of bells drowned out the cheers and well wishes of the assembled party that had just witnessed the marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. As the happy couple made its way up the aisle, Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself arm in arm with Jane Bennet, who was as radiant as the bride herself. The best man and maid of honor followed the happy couple out of the church, where the Colonel safely delivered Jane into the hands of her beloved. Mr. Bingley had deferred the honor of being Mr. Darcy's best man to the Colonel. His reply to Mr. Darcy when he had made the offer to Mr. Bingley was "When I stand up at the altar, Darcy, I intend to be the groom!"

Mr. Bingley was to have that opportunity two months hence, when he and Jane would marry. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood alone as he watched Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy ride off. He felt a gentle jab in his back and spun around.

"I believe you owe me an apology, sir," Olivia Crenshaw declared triumphantly. The Colonel couldn't help staring. It had been months since they had spoken and Olivia had pointedly refused to make eye contact with him in the church just minutes earlier. Nonetheless, he bestowed upon her his most charming smile.

"I would happily apply myself to the task, madam, if you would be so kind as to remind me of my transgression."

"You, Colonel, told me not to meddle in the affairs of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet--that is, Mrs. Darcy," she replied, emphasizing the last two words.

"You do not mean to suggest, Miss Crenshaw that all this is your doing?" the Colonel asked with a gesture towards the church.

"Indeed I do, sir." The Colonel was in the mood for Miss Crenshaw's game and played along. He offered his arm and led her toward the waiting carriages.

"You can, of course, offer proof of your claim."

"Of course, Colonel. They all but declared themselves right before my eyes."

"Witnessing and facilitating are worlds apart, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel remarked airily.

"Do you doubt me, Colonel?" Olivia asked coquettishly.

"I am merely awaiting your proof, Miss Crenshaw."

"Ride with me in my carriage, and I will tell you the tale." The Colonel handed Olivia into her carriage, where Mr. Crenshaw and the young Lieutenant Crenshaw were awaiting her. Thus is came to pass that Olivia and the Colonel had to postpone their talk until after the wedding breakfast at the Bennet estate. They took a walk in the well-manicured garden behind the manse. The Colonel wasn't really interested in Miss Crenshaw's story. After all, he already knew the truth. The Colonel himself was responsible for the Darcys' current happiness. That fleeting glimpse of Elizabeth in _____ Park convinced Mr. Darcy that he'd made a terrible mistake in letting her go earlier. He had made a complete confession to Mr. Bingley and the two had returned to Netherfield to court their respective ladies.

"In fact, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy had confided to the Colonel over port a week a few evenings ago, "It was my talk with you about Miss Crenshaw that did the trick. If--."

Mr. Darcy stopped himself, realizing that he'd opened an old wound. The two had sat in silence for some time and when they spoke again it was on a very different topic. The Colonel returned his attention to his present company.

"I believe you still owe me an explanation, Miss Crenshaw. The Colonel's voice startled Olivia out of her own reverie. She had missed the Colonel more than she cared to admit, and she relished being in his company once more.

"Do we have to talk about it just now? I would like to enjoy the scenery--and your company, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It has been a long time since we walked out together." It didn't seem to occur to Olivia that their separation had been entirely her own doing, and the Colonel was too much the gentleman to remind her.

"I would be perfectly content to admire the scenery and share my company, ma'am." The Colonel gave her a sidelong glance. "Is this your way of conceding that you have no proof that you are responsible for the Darcys' marriage?"

"It most certainly is not, sir!" Olivia replied with a laugh. "But I will concede your point that some things are more important than the Darcys' love life."

"Such as?" The Colonel had no idea what she was talking about.

"Such as my own." This the Colonel understood perfectly.

"Your love life, Miss Crenshaw?"

"Well, actually, my lack of one." He remembered their last meeting and the circumstances of the rift between them.

"I suppose you expect me to help you to remedy that unfortunate situation, Miss Crenshaw," replied the colonel, heart pounding.

"I recall your strong objection to meddling in the affairs of others," Olivia stated matter-of-factly, "But I hope to persuade you to make an exception in this case." She looked deep into the Colonel's eyes. The military strategist in him admired the boldness of her attack. The man in him cowered in terror. He knew he was a lost man. Colonel Richard Thomas Fitzwilliam had never before faced the possibility of surrender, but he was determined to submit to Miss Crenshaw's will (whatever it was) graciously.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" The man was still smiling, but something in his countenance weakened Olivia's bravado...

"Fitzwilliam?" The Colonel felt his shoulder being roughly jostled and turned to see his cousin.

"Darcy? Why are you not on your honeymoon?" the Colonel asked groggily.

"What in blazes are you talking about? Wake up, man!" The Colonel was rudely jostled until he sat up and pushed his cousin's hands away.

"What are you doing in here?" the Colonel managed through a yawn.

"Have you any plans for this evening, Fitzwilliam?" Darcy asked, gingerly lowering himself onto the bed. He sat still for a moment as the pain in his head subsided. "I had plans for the theatre with Bingley and his sister for this evening, with a late supper here afterwards." He hesitated for a moment. "I thought you might be willing to play the host in my place." The prospect of an evening in the company of a disappointed Miss Bingley did not appeal to the Colonel. He lay back and closed his eyes, hoping that Miss Crenshaw still awaited his reply. "Fitzwilliam!" Mr. Darcy shouted a bit too loudly, and felt the name reverberate in his head.

"Why do you not go yourself? I once rode twenty miles of bad road in enemy territory with a worse head wound than the one you have!" The Colonel turned over and prayed for his cousin to leave him in peace.

"That would explain much," Mr. Darcy mumbled. He tried another tack. "The play is 'Twelfth Night.' You have always enjoyed Shakespeare's comedies. And Cook is preparing roast duck tonight."

"I still do not see why you cannot go to the theatre, although I will accept the dinner invitation," the Colonel said, climbing out of bed. "On second thought, I will go. I just remembered that the Crenshaws are going to the theatre this evening." Mr. Darcy gave him a knowing smirk as the Colonel began to rummage around in his closet for evening wear. "I understand they are bringing two ladies from Hertfordshire. Perhaps you were acquainted with them while you were there last year," he added casually. This isn't meddling, he rationalized. It is the truth plain and simple, and if it makes Miss Crenshaw happy--and by her calculation, several others as well--then he could live with the twinge of guilt he felt in his breast. "By the bye, Darcy. Do you think we should postpone our visit to Rosings for a few weeks? Darcy?" Mr. Darcy had gone back to his room and ordered a bath. An hour later, he and the Colonel were dressed and ready to set out for the theatre.

• • •

Olivia no longer looked forward to an evening at the theatre with her friends. When the arrangements had been made three days prior, she eagerly anticipated an evening in the company of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. Now, however, she was decidedly not in the mood for company. She regretted her row with Colonel Fitzwilliam. In fact, she couldn't exactly say why she was angry with him. He had refused to help her get Lizzy and Mr. Darcy together and without his help she didn't stand much of a chance of succeeding. But it was a moot point, anyway; Lizzy was to leave for Hunsford in the morning with the Lucas's, and Mr. Darcy was sick at home in bed. When the carriage stopped in Gracechurch Street, therefore, Olivia greeted Elizabeth and Jane with considerably less than her usual enthusiasm. Not that either woman noticed; Jane was enthusiastic enough for everyone in the carriage, and Elizabeth was consumed with thoughts of her own.

She was still disturbed by her daydream about Fitzwilliam Darcy. Well, not about Mr. Darcy, she insisted. It was a dream in which Mr. Darcy played a central role. It was a dream in which Elizabeth had to confront her guilt, but Elizabeth resolutely told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn't hit him in the head! Elizabeth tried, unsuccessfully, to pay attention to the conversation between Jane and Mr. Crenshaw. Why was I dreaming about Mr. Darcy?

Elizabeth felt very uncomfortable, not precisely about the dream, but about what it represented. She clearly had no romantic illusions about Mr. Darcy. Yes, she conceded, Mr. Darcy was certainly handsome and wealthy. She supposed he was intelligent, articulate; she even had to concede that he had a sense of humor. But he was also an arrogant snob. No, he was worse: he was a presumptuous, arrogant snob. No, Elizabeth Bennet wasn't about to fall in love with Mr. Darcy. What bothered her most about the dream was that it portrayed Mr. Darcy as a sympathetic character. And she felt no sympathy for Mr. Darcy whatsoever, she told herself repeatedly. Whatever he suffered he deserved.

Olivia looked across the carriage at her friend. Lizzy does not look at all herself this evening. The Colonel and I were severe upon her this afternoon. I hope she is not angry with me. Although, Olivia reasoned, if she should be angry with anyone it is Colonel Fitzwilliam. After all, he was the one who teased her about Mr. Darcy. If only the Colonel had not been so unreasonable. If only she had had an opportunity to speak with him before he met Lizzy. If only Olivia hadn't lost her temper and ruined her only chance of assuring the happiness of her two friends. Sadly, Olivia conceded, she had certainly ruined her own chances with the Colonel as well.

• • •

Mr. Bingley whistled tunelessly as he carefully brushed his hair. He was in an extremely good mood. He was looking forward to an evening at the theatre and another opportunity to see Jane Bennet. He had learned at supper the other evening that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were to attend the theatre with the Crenshaws tonight and Mr. Bingley happened to know that the Crenshaw box was directly opposite Mr. Darcy's. And since he would be attending the theatre at Mr. Darcy's invitation, he would be in a perfect position to observe his ladylove throughout the performance. That is, unless he was able to manage an invitation to join the Crenshaws for an act or two. It would be a most pleasant evening, indeed. It was a pity Mr. Darcy was unable to attend. He too, might have enjoyed the evening, since Elizabeth Bennet would be perfectly situated for Mr. Darcy's enjoyment of the evening as well. But Mr. Bingley wasn't about to let Mr. Darcy's being indisposed put a damper on his plans.

Mr. Bingley put down the brush and adjusted his cravat for the third time. He thought back to this morning's visit with his friend. The expression on Mr. Darcy's face was priceless! The poor boy must have it very bad. But Mr. Bingley couldn't bring himself to feel any remorse for what he'd done. All is fair in love and war, my friend!

Mr. Bingley began to whistle again as he thought about his sister Caroline. She would not be pleased to see Jane Bennet this evening. He thought about how he would deal with her disapproval. Mr. Bingley now realized that his sister and Mr. Darcy had conspired to separate him from Jane Bennet, but however valid their reasoning may have been, he was not about to allow them to interfere again. Mr. Darcy might be a formidable obstacle to his plans, but Mr. Bingley knew that if he stood his ground, Mr. Darcy would respect his decision and let him have his way. He would have to live with Caroline, however, at least until the Hursts returned from the Continent. There was a banging at the door. Startled into silence, Mr. Bingley opened it to find his sister, resplendent in pumpkin-colored silk, glaring at him.

"Will you cease that infernal whistling! It is enough to drive a person mad!" Miss Bingley cried, sweeping into the room.

"I am sorry, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said insincerely. He went to take a last look in the mirror. Miss Bingley followed him.

"What are you so happy about?" she demanded, crossing her arms and continuing to glare at him.

"Why should I not be happy?" he challenged, and as Miss Bingley could think of no plausible response, she didn't answer. She picked a mote of dust off his shoulder.

"Charles," she asked suddenly, as she turned him around and fidgeted with his cravat. "Did you have a nice luncheon with Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bingley's face dropped.

"We did not go to lunch. I am afraid I have some distressing news, Caroline." She looked at him expectantly. "I am afraid Darcy has had a little accident. He will be unable to join us at the theatre this evening."

"An accident? What manner of accident?" Miss Bingley cried, gripping her brother's arm.

"Nothing too serious, don't worry. But he has to stay in bed for a few days."

"Do you think I should call on him?"

"You! Of course not! It would be highly improper for you to enter a bachelor's house unattended." Miss Bingley was too exasperated to blush at her brother's suggestion.

"I meant in your company, Charles, of course! I would not dream of compromising myself by appearing on Mr. Darcy's doorstep alone." Mr. Bingley eyed his sister suspiciously for a moment.

"I have received a note from Darcy saying that he's sending Colonel Fitzwilliam in his place. He will pick us up in the carriage at the top of the hour." Charles felt a little guilty. He knew he should have told his sister about Mr. Darcy earlier, but she had been out shopping all afternoon and this was his first opportunity. Miss Bingley plopped ungraciously on Mr. Bingley's bed.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," she spat. Her displeasure was evident. "That impertinent little pup!"

"I thought you liked the Colonel, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said, sitting next to her.

"I only tolerate him for Mr. Darcy's sake. I detest the man! Always about Mr. Darcy's heels, chattering nonsense. The man is a complete fool!" Mr. Bingley laughed at this depiction of the Colonel, knowing that its primary motivation was his sister's frustration at being denied an evening in Mr. Darcy's company.

"Caroline, the man is a colonel in His Majesty's army. He would hardly have achieved that rank if he was a fool!"

"And if he were not the son of an earl, I daresay he would only be fit to carry the boots of a Colonel. The man thinks he is God's gift to womanhood in his regimentals!" Caroline declared.

"Well, the 'pup' will be here shortly," Mr. Bingley said, laughing. "You had better go and get ready." Miss Bingley slowly rose and dejectedly quitted the room. Mr. Bingley chuckled at her and went downstairs to await his host. When the Darcy carriage arrived, Mr. Bingley sent word up to his sister. Miss Bingley immediately came down and begged to be excused, complaining of a sudden headache. Mr. Bingley wasn't surprised by her defection. He was, however, surprised when he entered the carriage to see both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy awaiting him.

"Darcy! I thought you were staying in bed this evening," Mr. Bingley exclaimed.

"I had a change of heart. Fitzwilliam, here, has convinced me that unless my head is gushing blood I may as well go about my regular business," Mr. Darcy replied with a smirk. The Colonel winked at Mr. Bingley. They had each surmised the real reason for Mr. Darcy's decision to come out this evening.

"Speaking of blood," quipped the Colonel, "Where is Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy was a bit taken aback by the remark and suppressed a smile, but Bingley was amused and let it show.

"I am afraid my sister developed a severe headache, no doubt in empathy with yours, Darcy." The three men enjoyed a laugh as the carriage pulled off.

• • •

"Livy?" Olivia was startled out of her reverie by the sound of Elizabeth's voice. "You seem to be a million miles away."

"I am sorry. I was just thinking about...I am sorry we teased you this afternoon," Olivia answered simply.

"Oh, you are, are you? You and your Colonel Fitzwilliam are up to something, and I would like to know what," she said archly.

"The Colonel and I are not up to anything. And he is not my Colonel," she said in a low and dejected voice. Elizabeth got up and slid into the seat next to her friend.

"What happened? Did you argue after I left?"

"I tried to enlist his aid...with Jane and Mr. Bingley, I mean," she whispered. "But he refused to get involved." Elizabeth was certain that there was more to the story than she was telling, but she didn't press for more.

"Mr. Bingley and Jane no longer need our help, I think," she whispered back. "I never did tell you what happened last night, did I?" she said, but thought better of revealing anything more in their present company. When the party arrived at the theatre, Olivia took the earliest opportunity to draw Elizabeth away from the others.

"Tell me!" she begged.

"I met Mr. Bingley in the park, after all," Elizabeth began. "Actually, he found me wandering about in search of you. He escorted me back to his home and we had tea. After we chatted a while, I was able to persuade him to escort me back to Gracechurch Street." Elizabeth smiled at the memory of Jane's first glimpse of Mr. Bingley.

"And?" Olivia pleaded, squeezing Elizabeth's arm.

"And he and Jane had a very pleasant reunion. At least I think they did. I was too distraught about you to notice." Elizabeth led Olivia back to her father and Jane and followed them up the grand staircase.

"And I was so miserable about you and Mr. Darcy that I could not--."

"There is no 'me and Mr. Darcy,' Livy," Elizabeth retorted. "In spite of what the Colonel may think, Mr. Darcy and I have never been friends and we probably never will be." Olivia felt Elizabeth stiffen slightly as she spoke. When Mr. Crenshaw stopped to speak with some old friends, Elizabeth pulled away from Olivia's arm and turned to enjoy the view from the balcony.

"Do not go disappearing on me this evening," she heard Olivia whisper behind her back.

• • •

The Darcy carriage pulled up outside the theatre only moments after the Crenshaw party's arrival. The three men ascended the stairs to the ornately decorated lobby and were immediately engaged in conversation with several of their London acquaintances. Mr. Darcy's eyes swept the room as he let Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley do all of the talking. He spotted Elizabeth Bennet standing alone not twenty feet away.

Elizabeth had wandered a small distance away from her friends to better survey the scene. She loved going to the theatre and was as entertained by the crowds in the lobby as she was by the actors on the stage. She glanced back at Jane, who seemed to be looking out for Mr. Bingley, and sighed. Elizabeth wished she had never let Olivia talk her into going to that park. If she hadn't seen Mr. Darcy she wouldn't have run off, she would not have met Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy would not have gotten hurt...and Jane would not be looking so radiant and happy. Maybe it was for the best. No matter, there was no way to undo things now.

"Miss Brown, I presume," said a voice behind Elizabeth. Although he apparently wasn't addressing her, the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. She turned and confirmed that it was indeed Mr. Darcy who had spoken.

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I should not have expected to see you here this evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam--," and here she blushed as the Colonel joined Mr. Darcy, "Told me of your accident yesterday. Should you not be in your bed, sir?" Mr. Darcy shot a quick glance at his cousin, who smiled benignly, before he answered.

"I thank you for your concern, madam, but I assure you I am well enough for an evening of Shakespeare." Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows. "You have met Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, blushing even more. Mr. Darcy wondered why. "We met this morning at Miss Crenshaw's house."

"Of course. Miss Crenshaw and 'Miss Brown' are dear friends," Mr. Darcy replied, invoking once again the name he now knew to be the invention of Miss Crenshaw. Why, he wondered, did she lie about Miss Bennet's identity? Elizabeth peered into each of Mr. Darcy's eyes. He enjoyed the examination, a smile playing about his lips.

"Are you sure you should be out of bed, Mr. Darcy? That is the second time you have called me 'Miss Brown.' I'm afraid his memory may be affected, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth spoke out of genuine concern, but the Colonel could not resist the opportunity to tease his cousin.

"Darcy?" the Colonel said in a parental tone. "This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said, emphasizing the last name. He was rewarded with an imperious glare from his cousin.

"I am well aware of whom I am addressing, Fitzwilliam," he growled.

"Mr. Darcy!" Olivia Crenshaw, Mr. Crenshaw, Jane Bennet, and Mr. Bingley now enlarged the group. "Mr. Darcy," Olivia said, extending a hand, "I am very glad to see you so well recovered. You gave us all a scare yesterday."

"Thank you, Miss Crenshaw," Mr. Darcy replied, shaking hands with Mr. Crenshaw and bowing to Jane Bennet in turn. He shot a glance at Mr. Bingley, who calmly returned his gaze. "I was just on the point of telling 'Miss Brown' how relieved I am to see that she is none the worse for her adventure yesterday," he said with a knowing smirk.

Miss Crenshaw dropped her head and blushed and the Colonel suppressed a laugh, but Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and said to no one in particular, "Why does this man insist on calling me Miss 'Brown'? Olivia gave Elizabeth a guilty look. Elizabeth immediately closed her mouth, her confusion evident. Mr. Crenshaw suggested that his party make its way to the Crenshaw box. Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, then took Mr. Crenshaw's offered arm. Mr. Bingley offered to escort Jane, leaving Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam to themselves.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Colonel Fitzwilliam began to laugh out loud. "And what is so funny?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"You, cousin! Poor Miss Crenshaw. Poor Miss Bennet!" The Colonel looked back at the two ladies walking on the arms of Mr. Crenshaw. "I wish I could be there to hear her explanation," he managed to say before Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm and led him away.

"Explain yourself, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy demanded as soon as they had entered the Darcy box. The Colonel sobered and sat down beside his cousin.

"I am sorry, Darcy, but you were making such a fool of yourself just now, calling Miss Bennet by a strange name. She had no idea what you were talking about." The Colonel was momentarily silenced by iciness of the Darcy glare. "I do not know why Miss Crenshaw decided to call her friend 'Miss Brown' but I am certain that Miss Bennet knew nothing of it. She probably thinks you should be in Bedlam!" he said before he began to laugh again. But Mr. Darcy was no longer interested in what the Colonel was saying. Elizabeth Bennet was sitting directly opposite him, her eyes down as she listened to something Miss Crenshaw was saying. She suddenly looked up and blushed as her eyes met Mr. Darcy's. He expected her to divert her gaze immediately, but instead she held his gaze and it was Mr. Darcy who felt compelled to look away.

So now I have become the object of her pity. He ran his fingers through his hair as he turned his eyes to the stage. He squirmed in his seat throughout the first act, occasionally stealing a glance at Elizabeth. Each time he looked in her direction, she seemed to be looking at him. She never looked away; on each occasion, it was Mr. Darcy who was discomfited. As soon as the first act was over, Mr. Darcy rose and declared his intention to return home.

• • •

Caroline Bingley was no one's fool. She was not about to spend an evening in the company of her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam, not while Mr. Darcy lay injured in his bed. She would go to him, in spite of her brother's admonition against it. She had no doubt that she would not be admitted into his company; propriety forbade it, and the man was ill, after all. But she would go in person and leave her card and perhaps a brief note. She would show Mr. Darcy how concerned she was for his welfare. Miss Bingley changed out of her evening attire into a more appropriate gown for visiting the sick. As the carriage made its way to Mr. Darcy's townhouse, Miss Bingley tried to compose a suitable message to leave for Mr. Darcy. Moments later, she alit from the carriage with a smug expression on her face and mounted the steps. Mr. Harris met her at the door with a surprised expression.

"Miss Bingley!" he said, "I thought you would be at the theatre with Mr. Darcy."

"What? Mr. Darcy went to the theatre! But I was told that he was very ill and had to keep to his bed," Miss Bingley cried, eyes darting about suspiciously.

"The master apparently rallied himself for this evening's theatre party, madam," Mr. Harris droned sarcastically. Miss Bingley glared at him, but Mr. Harris was unperturbed. Feeling foolish and ill-used by her brother, Miss Bingley stormed out of the house. In the carriage once more, she let loose her fury.

"I will wager that Mr. Darcy is not ill at all. This is just some ruse of my brother's to get rid of me. Well, I shall have the last laugh," she shouted, and rapped on the roof of the carriage to get the coachman's attention.

• • •

Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself torn between his duty to his cousin and his desire to make amends with Miss Crenshaw. He had stared at her through the entire first act and she had returned his smile on one occasion when she had caught him in the act. He had been looking forward to the intermission, when he would attempt to speak with her. Now Mr. Darcy wanted to go home, and the Colonel knew that he must accompany him.

"What about Bingley?" the Colonel asked, as Mr. Darcy led the way out of the box.

"He looks as though he will have no trouble finding a ride home," Mr. Darcy intoned. The thought of Mr. Bingley enjoying himself in Jane Bennet's company only added to his foul mood. He wanted no more than to see his own bed and sorely regretted having been talked into leaving the house.

"But you have invited him to dinner," the Colonel reasoned. "Look, he is coming back," he said, and Mr. Darcy turned and saw Mr. Bingley approaching, with Jane and Elizabeth Bennet in tow. Mr. Darcy wanted to turn away and leave but curiosity affixed him to the spot. Elizabeth detached herself from Mr. Bingley's arm and addressed Mr. Darcy.

"I...I owe you an apology, sir. Miss Crenshaw explained why you kept referring to me as 'Miss Brown.'" She blushed slightly as she spoke, and Mr. Darcy saw something of the familiar sparkle in her eyes. Mr. Darcy smiled, and Elizabeth fought against the tiny tug at her heartstrings. The Colonel quietly slipped away and went to the Crenshaw's box.

"I am the one who should apologize, Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam here," he said looking around for his absent cousin, "Rightly pointed out that I made quite a fool of myself."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I am very glad to find out that your head wound was not as severe as I feared," she said with a laugh. Mr. Darcy stared at her, marveling at the circumstances that had brought her back into his company. As they were obviously being ignored, Mr. Bingley and Jane wandered away.

"I should dearly like to know why Miss Crenshaw thought it necessary to keep your identity a secret, Miss Bennet."

"I am afraid you'll have to apply to Miss Crenshaw for the answer to that question, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said boldly.

"You will not tell me, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth simply smiled her defiance. "Well, suppose we ask her together," he said and offered his arm. A surprised Elizabeth took his arm and thought that an interview with Mr. Darcy was apt revenge for her interrogation by Olivia and the Colonel.

• • •

Jane and Mr. Bingley watched this interchange from a short distance away. "I think Miss Elizabeth's company does much for Darcy's headache," smiled Mr. Bingley.

"Yes. I think his company does her some good, too, though she would never admit it," Jane commented. Mr. Bingley looked at her with surprise.

"Really! Better and better."

• • •

Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed to attract Miss Crenshaw's attention before he entered the Crenshaw's box. Olivia was sitting alone, deep in thought. She turned at the sound of the cough and stood as the Colonel entered.

"Good evening, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel said a bit nervously.

"Colonel," she replied uneasily. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Just as the Colonel was about to speak, Mr. Crenshaw returned. He immediately asked the Colonel to join them and launched into a conversation about his son Edward, who had quickly distinguished himself in Colonel Fitzwilliam's regiment. Olivia looked on helplessly as the Colonel was drawn into the conversation. A few moments later the three were joined by Mr. Darcy, who had escorted Elizabeth back to the box. Mr. Darcy was quite curious to hear Miss Crenshaw's explanation however Mr. Crenshaw's garrulous nature precluded the possibility of any such conversation. By the time Mr. Bingley and Jane returned to the box, it was nearly time for the second act to begin. Mr. Darcy, the Colonel, and Mr. Bingley left reluctantly, but not before Mr. Darcy extended an invitation to everyone for dinner a few evenings hence. Mr. Crenshaw immediately accepted for Olivia and himself, and Jane was eager to accept the invitation, but Elizabeth was forced to decline.

"I am afraid I am to leave London tomorrow morning to visit friends in the country," she said with a tinge of regret. Mr. Darcy had aroused her curiosity, if not her sympathy, and she would have liked the opportunity to see him in his own environment and among people he considered his equal in society. Mr. Darcy was crestfallen at the news, although he did his best not to show it. He bowed and left the box behind the others.

"Well, Darcy, do we return to our box or do we go home?" asked the Colonel.

"It does not much matter," murmured the dejected man, but he returned to his seat in the box. As the curtain was raised for the beginning of the second act, Caroline Bingley swept into the box, a flurry of silk and feathers. The men, each of whom was consumed by his own thoughts, perfunctorily acknowledged her. Miss Bingley naturally took a seat by Mr. Darcy and proceeded to explain about how her headache had suddenly come on and then just as swiftly abated. He didn't hear a single word she spoke, nor did the other men.

Charles Bingley's eyes were locked with Jane Bennet's; Colonel Fitzwilliam pretended to watch the play but his mind was also upon an occupant of the Crenshaw box. Miss Bingley followed her brother's line of vision and was shocked by what she saw across the hall. She elbowed Mr. Darcy to inform him of her brother's danger, but he didn't respond. Miss Bingley turned to speak to Mr. Darcy and found that he, too, was focused on the same spot and was satisfied. She would speak to Mr. Darcy at the first opportunity and the two of them would figure out a way to keep Jane from entrapping her vulnerable brother. If Miss Bingley had looked more closely at the Crenshaw box she would have known that Mr. Darcy's eyes weren't on Jane Bennet, but her sister, who sat behind her. Miss Bingley sat back and enjoyed the play, not realizing that Mr. Darcy did not take his eyes off of Elizabeth for the rest of the performance.

Four

—

"We must speak privately, Mr. Darcy," she whispered. He turned his head to look at her, shocked by the boldness of her address. "We must do something about Charles."

"'We,' Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy replied, looking down the lane for his carriage. He was in no mood for Miss Bingley's tedious company this evening.

"Surely you noted his behavior tonight. If we do not act quickly, He is likely to fall into Jane Bennet's clutches again. Look at him even now," she warmed to her topic, gesturing to where Mr. Bingley stood talking with Jane Bennet as the others in her party entered the carriage. Mr. Darcy turned and looked where Miss Bingley had pointed. "We must do something, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps if you were to speak with him again...." Mr. Darcy had stopped listening as soon as he spotted Mr. Bingley and strode off in his direction. Miss Bingley crossed her arms and smiled. "Good, Mr. Darcy. Keep Charles away from Miss Bennet, and while you're at it, you stay away from that impertinent sister of hers yourself." Behind her, Colonel Fitzwilliam did a slow burn.

"And why should your brother and my cousin want to avoid the Miss Bennets, Miss Bingley?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam! I did not see you lurking there!" Miss Bingley sputtered, startled by both the unexpected question and the anger in his tone. She pretended not to understand his question and quickly turned to speak with an acquaintance. The Colonel let Miss Bingley escape, beginning to understand why Miss Crenshaw and Miss Bennet had felt it necessary to intervene on behalf of Miss Bingley's besotted brother. Mr. Darcy had not gone to the carriage to retrieve Mr. Bingley. He would do that, yes, but he was compelled by a sudden urge to see Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps for the last time. Arriving at Mr. Bingley's side, he wished a good evening to the party in the carriage, and repeated his hope for seeing everyone except Elizabeth at his home next week. To her he wished a safe journey.

"Have a pleasant trip, Miss Bennet. I hope you enjoy your stay in the country."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, meeting his eyes, and Mr. Darcy returned her smile. Had she met him in London, Elizabeth thought to herself, her opinion of him would be markedly different than that of the Fitzwilliam Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley bade the party adieu and made their way back to Miss Bingley and the Colonel. They repaired to the Darcy townhouse for a quiet dinner, but in deference to Mr. Darcy's professed fatigue, the evening ended rather earlier than usual.

• • •

On the way back to Gracechurch Street, Olivia and Elizabeth could only smile as they looked at Jane. She seemed pensive, but happy. Elizabeth leaned forward and whispered into Olivia's ear. "Perhaps it was all worth it, Livy. I just hope that Mr. Darcy and Bingley's sisters do not do anything to ruin it."

"Have no fear, Lizzy. I intend to see to it that they do not," Olivia said firmly.

"And how do you intend to do that?" Elizabeth asked as the carriage jostled her about. Jane, who had been watching the two ladies engaged in an animated discussion, could no longer contain her curiosity after she overheard her sister's remark.

"Do what?" she asked.

"I intend to see to it that Lizzy marries Mr. Darcy," Olivia boldly declared. Elizabeth gasped, as Jane and Olivia burst into a fit of giggles, Elizabeth forced herself to join in the laughter.

"I think that is a very good idea, Livy," stated Jane. "I know that Mr. Darcy admires her. He certainly stared at her through the entire second act."

"How do you know, Jane?" said Olivia. "You were too busy staring at Mr. Bingley." This led to more giggles between Jane and Olivia. Lizzy did not join them, however, being so wholly shocked by Jane's statement. She hadn't dared to look at Mr. Darcy after their meeting at intermission, and had specifically sat in the second row of the box to avoid the temptation.

"I thought Mr. Darcy was staring at Livy," retorted Elizabeth, trying to conceal her discomfort.

"Oh, no, Lizzy. Colonel Fitzwilliam was staring at Livy!" Jane asserted.

"It is a good thing I was there tonight otherwise no one in either party, it seems, would have seen anything of the play at all," Mr. Crenshaw interjected, effectively silencing the ladies. A short time later after heartfelt thanks and good-byes, Elizabeth and Jane sat in their room preparing for bed.

"I will miss you, Lizzy," said Jane.

"Well, you are welcome to join us and visit our cousin, Mr. Collins," Elizabeth teased, and Jane shuddered at the thought.

"Perhaps I will be able to bear the separation if you agree to write me every week," Jane suggested as an alternative.

"Or perhaps you could find something else to distract you?" Elizabeth said as she twisted the end of her long braid. She had already cautioned Jane twice about Mr. Bingley and his treacherous sisters and didn't want to bring up the matter again. But she could not help worrying.

"Dearest Lizzy, I will take care," Jane repeated, hugging Elizabeth to her heart. Elizabeth recited those words to herself over and over again till she fell asleep that night, and left London the following morning hoping rather than knowing that Jane had spoken the truth.

• • •

The following week, Miss Bingley was shocked to find that Mr. Darcy had not only invited her brother and herself to dinner but Jane Bennet as well, accompanied by Mr. Crenshaw and his daughter. Miss Bingley was quite put out, even after Mr. Bingley explained to her that the dinner invitation had originally been extended to the Crenshaws and Miss Bennet and that he and Miss Bingley were later additions to the party. She would not accept the notion that Mr. Darcy would actually invite a Bennet into his own house. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least Eliza Bennet was not part of the party.

Mr. Darcy, his concussion now a distant memory, didn't bat an eyelash when Mr. Bingley took a seat at the dinner table next to Jane, but Miss Bingley was visibly upset. Mr. Crenshaw was given the place of honor at the table, and Miss Crenshaw was at Mr. Darcy's other side. Miss Bingley did not deign to perceive Miss Crenshaw as a threat, but she fumed at being separated from her dearest object and took out her frustration on her nearest neighbor, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He, on the other hand, was oblivious to her rudeness. The Colonel had spoken to Miss Crenshaw, not to any more significant purpose than to exchange greetings, but her reception had been more than civil. It was balm to his bruised heart and he was in too good a mood to let Miss Bingley spoil it. The Colonel repeatedly attempted to engage Miss Bingley in conversation, which she either responded to tersely or not at all, to the secret amusement of Mr. Darcy and Miss Crenshaw.

Mr. Darcy enjoyed his dinner conversation with the Crenshaws, and although he could still not condone his friend's budding romance with Jane Bennet, he was able to appreciate the dramatic improvement in Mr. Bingley's spirits. Mr. Darcy observed Miss Bennet carefully, looking for traces of the younger sister in her manners. Miss Bingley caught him staring and took it as a sign of Mr. Darcy's disapproval. A smug smile suffused her features and she was sufficiently mollified as to answer one of the Colonel's questions with a complete sentence.

When dinner was over, the ladies retired to the music room, while the four men remained behind for cigars and port. Miss Bingley led the way down the hall with a proprietary air, pointing out minute and intimate details about the portraits on the walls and relating the history of some object or another. She clearly meant to convince her companions of her intimacy with Mr. Darcy, but neither Olivia nor Jane was terribly impressed. Upon entering the drawing room, Miss Bingley remarked that she would change the décor of the room at her earliest opportunity.

"I do despise pale blue, you know. It's so juvenile," she said, cognizant of the fact that both Jane and Olivia were dressed in that shade. "I would do something far more dramatic in here, perhaps in red, with dark mahogany furniture-"

"I should think that Miss Darcy should prefer the room to stay as it is, Miss Bingley. After all, I believe that Mr. Darcy recently had this room especially redone according to her taste." Olivia's smile was innocence itself, as she watched Miss Bingley's artificial smile freeze.

"Have you met Miss Darcy, Jane?" Olivia asked.

"I have not had that pleasure," Jane replied, taking a seat near the fire.

"Oh, Miss Darcy is a lovely girl," Miss Bingley chimed in. "You would adore her. So pretty, so charming. She's quite a favorite of Charles' you know. And, unless I am mistaken, she is excessively fond of him as well. I have high hopes of--but I speak prematurely," cooed Miss Bingley, taking a seat opposite Jane to observe the effect of her words. Jane had gone pale, but she held her head high and refused to give Miss Bingley the satisfaction of a greater display.

So that's to be your game, is it, Miss Bingley? Olivia had never met Caroline Bingley before, although she had seen her numerous times at various gatherings. She certainly knew of her; Olivia had spent that very morning gathering intelligence from a mutual acquaintance and had learned of Miss Bingley's ambitious plans to ensnare Mr. Darcy. Olivia had been instantly disposed to dislike the woman from the moment Miss Bingley had looked down her arrogant little nose and condescendingly greeted her upon her arrival. She was not about to let Miss Bingley ruin Jane's evening. An appropriate retort was forming in Olivia's mind when the door opened and the men entered the room, led by Mr. Darcy. Olivia immediately shifted her strategy.

"Jane, have you heard from Lizzy?" she asked as soon as Mr. Darcy was within her hearing.

"Oh, yes, Livy. I received a letter from her just this morning. She sends her love," Jane said, "And asked me to tell you that you should be receiving your own letter shortly."

"I trust, then, that she had a pleasant journey?" Mr. Darcy said, coming to stand near Jane's chair. Miss Bingley's senses were aroused; why should Mr. Darcy be asking about Eliza Bennet?

"Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy wrote that she had a lovely trip into the country and she seems to be enjoying her stay with our cousin," Jane replied. Mr. Bingley drew near to Jane and she ducked her head to avoid his eyes. Olivia noticed the movement, and her resentment of Miss Bingley increased.

"It is a pity she could not spend more time in London," Mr. Darcy said. "But then, as you said, she is enjoying herself among her relations." Olivia rejoiced inwardly. Good, show, Mr. Darcy! Banish that smug smile from Miss Bingley's face. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam significantly, but the Colonel was observing Miss Bingley, his expression unreadable.

"Oh! Was Miss Eliza Bennet in town?" asked Miss Bingley. "How delightful it must have been for you to see her again, Jane, dear. Was she in town long?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Mr. Darcy.

"She was here but three days. She only stopped in town to visit with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner before going on to--"

"Oh, but it is such a shame that you had so little time with her here. Dear Eliza! I am sure she would have loved to have had time to go to all the shops, to attend balls, go to the theatre--all the little things a girl cannot do in the country."

You are all kindness, madam, Olivia glowered and crossed her arms. Across the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam could see the sour expression on Olivia's face. He furrowed his brows and drew closer to the conversation. Mr. Bingley left Jane and went to join Mr. Crenshaw at the table where a servant was pouring coffee. Jane looked after him, and with a pang of longing, lowered her head once more.

"It is a pity I did not get a chance to see her. It has been an age since we have seen each other," Miss Bingley continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you saw her, Mr. Darcy. I know that must have been a treat for you, being such an admirer of her fine eyes." Mr. Darcy walked away from Jane and went to get a cup of coffee cup from the table just behind the settee where Miss Bingley sat. He wasn't about to make himself an easy target for Miss Bingley.

"Oh, but you must have seen her as well, Miss Bingley," the Colonel offered, beginning to understand Olivia's anger. "She was at the theatre last week when we saw 'Twelfth Night.'" Miss Bingley's mouth fell open.

"Miss Eliza Bennet was at the theatre? You did not tell me, Mr. Darcy!" she purred, twisting around in an effort to catch his eye. But it was the Colonel who delivered the coup de grace.

"I should not have thought it necessary to inform you, Miss Bingley. She was sitting directly opposite you the whole evening." Miss Bingley glanced at Mr. Darcy and instantly understood the Colonel's meaning. She blanched, and fell silent for the remainder of the evening. As soon as it was possible to do so, Olivia went to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her smile told him that he was back in her good graces.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I could kiss you," she whispered. His eyebrows shot up and he didn't trust himself to speak. She laughed at his sheepish expression and explained. "You silenced Miss Bingley better than I ever could have done." She quickly retreated, leaving the confused Colonel to wonder if it would be proper to claim his reward.

The Crenshaws, along with Jane, were the first to leave, and Mr. Darcy saw his guests to the door. When he returned to the drawing room, he found Miss Bingley waiting for him just outside the door. She hissed with exasperation, "Is this how you plan to keep my brother from losing his head over that girl? You invite her into your house?"

"Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy replied tightly, "I could no more stop your brother from 'losing his head' over a girl than you could stop me." Miss Bingley paled, and a knot formed in her stomach. "I am not pleased with this development, but I am in no position to do anything about it. I will be leaving town at the end of the week. You'll have to deal with the matter by yourself," Mr. Darcy said as he strode into the room.

• • •

Over breakfast the next morning, Mr. Darcy informed the Colonel that they would leave for their annual visit to Rosings Park at the end of the week as they had originally planned.

"Are you sure you would not rather rest in town a little longer, Darcy? You know Aunt Catherine's company is the antithesis of what your head needs right now!" Colonel Fitzwilliam argued. "I do not mind spending a bit more of my leave in town, if you wish it."

"Is Caroline Bingley's company a better restorative?" his cousin quipped back. Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged his shoulders. Mr. Darcy had a point, but his decision to leave at the end of the week would come at the Colonel's expense. He would only be able to call on Miss Crenshaw to take his leave and it would be some time before he'd have the opportunity to see her again. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was anxious to put London--and its bittersweet memories--behind him. Yes, the ignominious ramblings of his dowager aunt would provide just the diversion he needed.

• • •

Elizabeth sat at her writing desk six weeks later and wondered what, if anything she should tell Olivia about Mr. Darcy. To say nothing was unthinkable, really; Olivia always had a way of finding out things eventually and Elizabeth would rather reveal this particular matter on her own terms. Besides, Elizabeth needed to confide in someone, and could only tell Jane just so much about her dealings with Mr. Darcy. Jane had chosen to remain in London a while longer instead of returning with Elizabeth to Hertfordshire. It was obvious to Elizabeth that Mr. Bingley was the reason. Things seemed to be going well between them, but after nearly two months of courtship Mr. Bingley seemed no closer to a proposal of marriage than when Elizabeth left for Hunsford.

"What is he waiting for?" Elizabeth said to herself. "Mr. Darcy is back in town and I am sure he will do anything in his power to prevent Mr. Bingley from proposing to Jane. Especially now..."

• • •

At that precise moment, at his home in London, Mr. Bingley assembled a meeting with his sister and best friend. The news he was about to impart to his sister and friend would have erased all of Elizabeth's concern. Mr. Darcy--who had recently returned to London from his visit to Rosings Park, and was stopping in town only briefly--entered Mr. Bingley's home in answer to an unexpected invitation.

"Caroline, Darcy, sit down," Mr. Bingley said. "I have something I want to tell you both." He stood with his back to an imposing mantle piece looking slightly nervous but determined. Mr. Darcy looked at him curiously, then took a seat. Miss Bingley stood her ground.

"What is this about, Charles?" she demanded.

"Sit down and I will tell you," he commanded. Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy exchanged glances as she obeyed. Mr. Bingley cleared his throat.

"You may as well be the first to know...I have asked Jane Bennet for her hand in marriage and she has done me the honor of accepting me." Mr. Bingley squared his shoulders and prepared for the inevitable onslaught. But it did not come as he had expected. His announcement was met with silence. Mr. Darcy blinked, looked down at his boots, and said nothing. Miss Bingley, who had relied on Mr. Darcy to speak on her behalf, was left to confront her brother alone.

"Charles!" she cried. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am," was his firm reply.

"Mr. Darcy, say something! You cannot, you must not allow my brother to throw himself away on that insignificant chit of a --."

"Caroline, I am going to marry Jane Bennet and there's an end of it. If you do not approve of my choice of a marriage partner, I would be more than happy to send you to your sister in Lisbon!" Mr. Bingley spoke calmly but his eyes were aflame. His sister's mouth fell open. She turned to Mr. Darcy once more, but to her amazement, he rose and extended his hand in congratulations.

"I wish both you and Miss Bennet every happiness, Charles," he said simply. "I am rather pleased to find that I was mistaken in my belief that Miss Bennet did not return your affections. It was an arrogant presumption on my part and I heartily apologize for the pain and suffering my unwanted interference must have caused you both." Miss Bingley was shocked by this speech, as was Mr. Bingley, but he graciously accepted both the admission and the apology and wasted no time in asking Mr. Darcy to stand up with him at the altar.

"If you would still have me after what I have done to you both, I would be honored." Mr. Darcy felt unequal to the protestations he knew his friend would make, and so he turned to leave, saying, "Just let me know the date and I will be at your side. You may contact me at Pemberley. I leave later this morning." With that, he bid his friends goodbye and left, a tumult of emotions beating in his heart.

That much I could do for her, Mr. Darcy thought hours later as he sat at his father's massive desk in Pemberley's study. It was well past midnight, and Mr. Darcy, still plagued by the demons that had driven him from Kent, was unable to sleep. Elizabeth had refused his love and rightfully so. He had lost her forever and with it every chance of happiness. Mr. Darcy resigned himself to his fate. I have admitted my guilt in wrongfully separating Bingley and Jane Bennet, and have given their marriage my blessing. At least she will see her beloved sister happy...I pray that one day my Elizabeth... and here Mr. Darcy's eyes clouded over and he was forced to swallow the lump rising in his throat, "...That she will find someone with whom she can be equally happy. It is no more than she deserves. I am unworthy of her. As the words formed in his mind, tears began to flow. He lowered his head to the desk and sobbed pathetically.

Elizabeth hadn't written to Olivia in weeks, not since she had revealed in a letter that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were also in Kent. Olivia had immediately applied to Elizabeth for intelligence of the Colonel, unwittingly betraying her attachment to him; not that Elizabeth was without her suspicions. Olivia had also asked after Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth could not find words to describe what had transpired on the very day that Elizabeth had received her letter. Now, as Elizabeth sought to put pen to paper, she was forced to confront her own feelings about the man that she once thought she abhorred above any in the world.

Elizabeth rose and began to pace the room. It was nearly two in the morning, but after beginning and discarding several drafts of her letter to Olivia, she was no closer to putting her thoughts down on paper than she had been that morning. Elizabeth was restless, uncomfortable within her own skin. She tried to ferret out the source of her uneasiness. She decided to start at the beginning and try to make sense of all that had passed between herself and her reluctant suitor.

When she first met Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire, she had found him to be arrogant, haughty, and distant. In London, she had found him to be civil, pleasant--solicitous, even. He was such a paradox. Or was he? Were Mr. Darcy's motives as mysterious as they seemed? Elizabeth searched her conscience. At Netherfield, Mr. Darcy had willingly engaged her in a battle of wits, seemingly enjoying every opportunity to spar with her. And he had asked Elizabeth, and Elizabeth alone, to dance with him at the Netherfield Ball. On two occasions Mr. Darcy had paid her particular attention and yet Elizabeth knew all the while that he viewed her and her relations with disdain and contempt. Her family, at least, was beneath his notice. Had he thought himself to be courting her favor then, in spite of his disregard for her relations?

In London, Mr. Darcy had seemed more open and even a bit shy in his dealings with her. Was this the true Mr. Darcy? Or was he merely surer of himself in his own element, as Colonel Fitzwilliam had implied in Hunsford? But Mr. Darcy had not been completely at ease; he admitted to having walked into a tree while looking at her! Elizabeth smiled at the thought, half at herself for inspiring such behavior and half at Mr. Darcy's unpretentious confession. Elizabeth reached for her shawl. The fire was dying down in the grate and she went to tend it.

The man she met in Kent was more like the original: oddly distant and yet omnipresent. In retrospect, Elizabeth realized that the Fitzwilliam Darcy she had encountered in London and in Kent was a man intoxicated by love. He loved her! Elizabeth shook her head as if to reject the notion, blew out the candle on her nightstand and crawled under the layers of quilts piled atop her bed.

What of her own heart? She did not, could not love him. She knew that she no longer hated Mr. Darcy, but common sense told her that she could never love a man who had shown so little respect for her or her family. Perhaps she had let her prejudices cloud her opinion of him, but Mr. Darcy's proposal had convinced her that he was undeserving of her love. She tossed about fitfully, trying to reconcile her ambivalence. I could never love such a man. Why not? Because he insulted me? Because of Jane? She knew these reasons were inadequate. She searched her soul and found guilt. It made her sit up in the dark and confront her own feelings. I did not ask for his love. I gave him absolutely no encouragement.

"Did I?" she asked aloud. Her attacks on him could certainly be viewed as encouragement. Caroline Bingley certainly took Elizabeth's behavior to be flirtatious. Did Mr. Darcy also think so? Elizabeth repeatedly went out of her way to provoke him. She was unquestionably not the first lady to employ such a tactic to entice the wealthy bachelor.

Oh, why did I not just keep my mouth shut and leave him alone! A second, more disturbing thought occurred to Elizabeth, and it made her shudder. I brought this upon myself. Did I unconsciously seek Mr. Darcy's attentions? She would not allow herself to finish her self-interrogation. She got out of bed and lit the candle. She picked up the candleholder and made her way down to her father's study, ostensibly to look for a book to divert her. As she tiptoed down the stairs, Elizabeth bitterly reproached herself. Indeed, I have behaved no better than Caroline Bingley has! What was I about? And yet, Elizabeth had to laugh at herself--she had succeeded where Miss Bingley had failed miserably. What would she say if she knew of Elizabeth's success? Once in the library, Elizabeth picked up and discarded several books. Poetry was tempting, but dangerous in her present state of mind. Histories didn't appeal, nor did Mrs. Radcliffe's latest novel. Elizabeth drew her finger along the shelf that held the complete works of Shakespeare. Elizabeth picked out the copy of "Twelfth Night," but could not bring herself to open the volume. She soon found herself pacing again.

I have never behaved toward any man as I have behaved toward Mr. Darcy. I thought I was repelling him...I thought he was repugnant...Have I been deluding myself all along? Was my dislike of him based on nothing more than my own predisposition to find him wanting? Have I not used his every word, look and action to fuel my own opinion of him, to justify my prejudices? Elizabeth put down the book and walked over to the window. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders in order to ward off the cool night air that seeped in.

"Am I in love with Mr. Darcy?" The words were no sooner of her mouth than the answer became self-evident. Her tears began to flow. "What a mess I have made of things. I have fallen in love with the man I have vowed to despise, in spite of myself. I have insulted him, accused him, slandered him with my accusations...I have treated him most abominably. Oh, Lizzy--foolish, silly girl! Mr. Darcy loves me and I love him! I could never have accepted his proposal, but I did not know my own heart then. Had I recognized my true feelings I might not have said... I know my heart now and it is too late. I have rejected him irrevocably." She collapsed sobbing onto a large wing chair and cried herself to sleep.

• • •

Mr. Darcy awoke at daybreak and surveyed his surroundings. He stood and stretched, trying unsuccessfully to ease the stiffness in his back and neck. He left the study and made his way to his chambers. He pulled off his waistcoat and shirt and went to the wash basin to splash his face. As he turned to reach for the towel, a glint of silver caught his eye. He went to the dressing table and picked up the tiny silver vial that held within the intoxicating scent of "her." Mr. Darcy dared not allow himself to even think her name.

Mr. Darcy carried the precious object to his bed and sat down, staring at the fine engraving along its length. He choked back tears as he opened it and inhaled. He closed the vial reverently and lay back on the bed, allowing the full force of his misery to overwhelm his senses. After half an hour, Mr. Darcy gathered himself and abruptly stood, dropping the vial on his bed. He rang for his valet. When he had dressed, he retrieved the vial and stormed out of his chambers.

• • •

"Oh, Jane!" Olivia hugged her tightly again. "I am so very happy for you! You must tell me everything! I knew the moment I left town something important would happen!" Mrs. Gardiner urged both ladies to sit as she rang for tea. Olivia had just returned to town after a month in Bath with her elderly aunt, and she was eager to get caught up on the latest gossip, none more important than Jane's engagement to Mr. Bingley.

"Have you written to Lizzy? I am sure she will be ecstatic!" Olivia's joy did not afford Jane much opportunity to tell her tale, so it was some time before all the details had been revealed.

"Of course, Mr. Bingley has yet to ask for my father's permission, but he plans to return to Hertfordshire in a week to see him," Jane concluded.

"Oh, Jane," Olivia gushed. "This is so wonderful! I am so glad that things finally worked out for the two of you. I cannot think of two more deserving people." Mrs. Gardiner looked up from her knitting and smiled, remembering Olivia and Elizabeth's role in bringing the union about. Eventually the conversation came back around to the subject of Elizabeth's response to the news.

"I have not received her reply, but I expect one at any time. I was so excited I sent her the news by express!" Jane said with a laugh.

"I have not heard from Lizzy since she was in Kent," Olivia said, "And that was more than two weeks ago. I supposed it to be because I was traveling myself, but I had expected a letter to be awaiting me here when I arrived home yesterday and there was none. It is unlike Lizzy not to respond to my letters promptly." Jane exchanged a glance with Mrs. Gardiner. She was uncertain what to say; she was not sure that Elizabeth would want her to tell Olivia about Mr. Darcy's proposal.

"I am sure you will receive a letter soon." Jane dissembled. "Knowing Mama, she has kept Lizzy busy since her return to Longbourn and it will take her a while before she's back to her normal routine." Olivia knew that Jane was being evasive, but she didn't pursue the mater. Instead she launched into a conversation about wedding plans, and soon Elizabeth's tardy letter was no more than a nagging thought at the back of her mind.

• • •

Elizabeth was more than a little surprised to receive not one, but two expresses on the same morning. The first was from Jane, and she opened it with no small amount of trepidation. The news it contained made her weep with joy. She immediately grabbed her hat and pelisse and took a walk, the better to avoid her mother's curiosity. Fortunately for Elizabeth, her mother had gone into Meryton to see her sister, Mrs. Philips, but Elizabeth knew that she was due to return shortly. Her mother would be informed by one of the maids that a post had come for Elizabeth, and Mrs. Bennet would not rest until she had perused the missive for herself.

Elizabeth sought the isolation of a sunlit meadow a short distance from Longbourn. Once she was alone, she sat down beneath a tree to savor every detail of Jane's letter. When she had read it through twice, she put it down and turned her attention to the small parcel in her lap. It bore no distinctive markings, but she recognized the hand immediately. Elizabeth hesitated. A lump rose in her throat and she found herself fighting tears. She could not imagine what the parcel held, but she was overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding.

She picked up the parcel and Jane's letter and began to wander the meadow aimlessly, willing her heart to slow down. Finally, when she could bear the suspense no longer, Elizabeth sat on a cropping of rocks near a stream and tore open the package. Inside, carefully wrapped in a man's linen handkerchief, Elizabeth found her grandmother's Sterling silver vial that she thought she had lost months ago in London. How had it come into Mr. Darcy's possession? With trembling hands she unfolded the letter that accompanied it. Elizabeth carefully opened the letter and began to read its contents. The first paragraph was written in Mr. Darcy's impeccable hand, as was the letter she had received from him in Hunsford.

Dear Miss Bennet,

I can only imagine that given the circumstances of our last two meetings you would wish never to see or hear of me again. I must beg your indulgence as I perform this one last service on your behalf. The enclosed item, I believe, belongs to you. It has a patina of age, which suggests that it must be an object of great sentimental value to you. My dear mother carried such a vial, a legacy of her own mother. She was rarely without it. I hope that its absence did not cause you much anguish and I hope its safe return gives you comfort.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth sighed deeply and read on, for the letter continued. From this point, however, the penmanship was careless, written in a manner that bespoke great agitation. Elizabeth could only wonder what was going through his mind as he wrote his next words.

I must...Please Eliz Miss Bennet, I must exploit this final opportunity to communicate with you to offer an apology for my abominable behavior in Hunsford. I neither expect nor deserve an apology. But I must (the next few words were crossed out so as to render them unreadable)...I wish only to say what I might have said in the letter that I gave you that last morning. That letter was written too hastily; the full weight of my pain and anger at your rejection clouded my judgment and I have learned to regret the bitterness with which I attempted to explain my actions. I wrote to defend myself when I might have begged your forgiveness. I was thinking only of myself then, but since that time I have thought only of you. At first I was determined to forget you and went to great effort, without success, to drive you from my mind. After a time I was able to look beyond my own pain to understand the pain unintentionally inflicted upon you by my arrogant and pretentious behavior. You have done me a kindness, madam, in your unmerciful condemnation of my character. I have learned much in these last two weeks, Miss Bennet, and can now appreciate the truth of your words.

Her curiosity aroused Elizabeth paused, and removed her bonnet. Carelessly tossing it aside, she picked up the letter and began to read anew. Mr. Darcy's penmanship was once again steady and deliberate. Much thought and effort went into what came next.

I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I am not certain when it happened, perhaps when you were at Netherfield attending your sister in her time of illness, perhaps even earlier. You must understand that I had been acquainted with you some weeks before I truly allowed myself to see you, to look beyond the barriers I myself had imposed between us. Those barriers blinded me to all that I have since come to love and cherish about you. I am sorry if my declarations upset you, but I must speak plainly, as I should have done earlier. Perhaps if I had...

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth started, then hastily refolded the letter and stuffed it into her pelisse as her sister Lydia approached. Elizabeth rose to her feet, secreted the parcel in her pocket and reached for her bonnet as Lydia arrived at her side.

"Lord, Lizzy! I have been calling you these last five minutes. Did you not hear me?"

"I am sorry, Lydia. No, I am afraid I was quite distracted," Elizabeth replied, trying to compose herself. Her emotions were in a jumble and she wanted nothing more than for Lydia to disappear so that she could return to her reading of Mr. Darcy's letter.

"I have been sent to look for you. I have the most wonderful surprise!" Lydia giggled in that manner that so often infuriated her elder sister. Elizabeth was not interested in surprises and her impatience showed.

"Well? What is it?" she snapped. Lydia's smile immediately disappeared.

"If you are going to take that tone, Lizzy, I may decide not to tell you about it after all," she said coyly. Elizabeth grew more perverse.

"Do not tell me then," she said, plopping back down upon the rock. "I am sure that I can endure the loss." Elizabeth looked away from Lydia, hoping the girl would take the hint and leave.

"Very well, then, Miss Lizzy," Lydia said sweetly, knowing that she held the upper hand. "I will simply tell Jane and Olivia that you do not want to see them." She turned and started back toward the house. But Elizabeth immediately rose, silently mouthed the names, and much to her sister's surprise, took off toward Longbourn as fast as her legs could carry her.

• • •

"Married! When did that happen?" asked a surprised Colonel Fitzwilliam as he took a seat in Mr. Darcy's study.

"Just a few days ago. I had it from Bingley himself. He asked me to call upon him when I returned to London and gave me the news." Mr. Darcy poured out two glasses of port and offered one to his cousin.

"This is good news, indeed," the Colonel replied, thinking of how Miss Crenshaw would react. It had been months since he'd seen her, although he had been able to hear news of her now and again through her brother. The Colonel intended to remedy that as soon as he returned to London. "When is the happy event to take place?"

"I do not know yet. Bingley--or rather Miss Bennet--has yet to decide on a date. I expect they will send out invitations when they have decided," Mr. Darcy said, somewhat absently. His mind appeared to be elsewhere.

"And do you approve of the match?" the Colonel asked, trying to divine the source of his distraction.

"Why should I disapprove? Jane Bennet is a lovely girl, and she and Bingley should make each other very happy." Mr. Darcy seemed a bit affronted by the question, and he felt a twinge of guilt as the Colonel pursued his point.

"I heard it said somewhere that you had objections to the lady," he said mildly, recalling the day he blew up at his cousin when he learned of his interference in his friend's romance.

"Perhaps I did at one point, but I was wrong about Miss Bennet and I was wrong to try to influence Bingley's opinion of her." The Colonel's shock at this declaration barely registered on the outside, but the Colonel tried to decipher a curious mix of clues in his mind that did not quite add up. Not yet.

"Speaking of happy events, when are you going to propose to Miss Crenshaw?" Mr. Darcy said, abruptly turning the tables on his cousin.

"Propose?" the Colonel managed to choke out. "What makes you think I was considering proposing?" It was Mr. Darcy's turn to consider the evidence. He came out from behind his desk to sit in a chair opposite Colonel Fitzwilliam's.

"Oh, come, man! You spoke of little else in Kent!" Mr. Darcy laughed.

"I may have spoken of Miss Crenshaw, but I do not recall saying anything about marriage."

"Well, why else does a man unceasingly bring up the name of a woman in every conversation, day, evening, over tea, out walking..."

"Speaking of unceasing devotion, have you given any thought to what you are going to do about Miss Bennet?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, as he rose and went to tend the fire. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he knew, in spite of his cousin's superficially cheerful demeanor, that the matter still weighed heavily on his heart. The Colonel, for one, believed that the issue was far from resolved. His cousin and Miss Bennet were far from being through with one another.

"Do about it? There is nothing to be done about it! I have lost her forever, Fitzwilliam. There is nothing left to do," Mr. Darcy replied dejectedly. "I made a complete ass of myself, Fitzwilliam. I went to her with every confidence that she was expecting my advances, that she wanted me as much as I did her." He stopped mid-stride, recalling his confrontation with Elizabeth. "I declared my love for her in a manner that no sensible woman would have accepted. I made plain my disdain for her relations, I reminded her of her social inferiority, and told her that I loved her in spite of these faults. In short, I did everything possible to make it perfectly reasonable that she would not only refuse my offer of marriage but never admit me into her presence again!" Drained by the effort of his confession, Mr. Darcy threw himself into the nearest chair and drained his glass. The Colonel stood and turned to his cousin; the façade that Mr. Darcy had so carefully constructed to greet him on his arrival had crumbled to dust. Mr. Darcy was a pitiable creature and the Colonel bit back the words that had come unbidden to his tongue. He knew that his cousin was penitent; his own rebuke was superfluous.

"You will attend Bingley's wedding?" he asked gently.

"Of course! I am to be his--." Mr. Darcy covered his face with his hands. "Good lord! I had not thought about that."

"Meeting Miss Bennet again is inevitable, Darcy. I daresay that as long as you and Bingley are friends and the Miss Bennets are sisters, it will be impossible to avoid seeing her."

• • •

"Lizzy!" Olivia and Jane shouted in unison, as the breathless lady made her appearance. A flurry of greetings, hugs, and exclamations of surprise ensued, and it was nearly five minutes before things settled. Mrs. Bennet bustled about, greeting her daughter and making preparations for her unexpected houseguest. Elizabeth wanted to ask a million questions but she thought it best to wait until her mother had left the room.

"Jane! I only received your express this morning! You made no mention of planning to return to Hertfordshire," she said, as soon as her mother had gone to the kitchen to order a special dinner.

"Did you really expect me to allow Mr. Bingley to face Mama all alone?" Jane laughed, as she took a seat next to her dearest sibling.

"Mr. Bingley is coming?" gushed Lydia, whose presence had been temporarily forgotten.

Elizabeth cast her sister a worried glance.

"Yes, Lydia. Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield," Jane said calmly. She knew she would have to speak with her mother before Lydia spread this intelligence across the county. Mrs. Bennet reentered the room, and before Jane could open her mouth, Lydia cried out the news.

"Mr. Bingley returning to Longbourn!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "This is a complement to you, Jane, I am sure. Did you see him in town? You never mentioned him in your letters, you sly thing, but I know you must have seen him. And now he is determined to follow you back to Hertfordshire and claim you as his bride. Oooh! I'm certain of it. Mark my words he will be at your father's door begging for your hand within a fortnight." Elizabeth looked at Jane and sighed. Olivia, who had been watching the proceedings with great interest, attempted to suppress an urge to laugh.

"Mama, Mr. Bingley will be here on Friday to ask for my hand. He has already proposed and I have already accepted him," Jane said patiently.

"On Friday, you say? Oh, but you should have told me before, Jane! There's so much to be done. I will have to see to the meal and have Cook prepare all of Mr. Bingley's favorite dishes. I must have Hill go up to the attic and find my best linens, for you know, I had them put away for the summer since we do not entertain so very often in warm weather at Longbourn. Oh! Lady Lucas will be quite put out! And I must tell Mrs. Phillips," she said wandering out of the room, her brain awhirl with plans and schemes. "And you must have a special license! Five thousand a year..." Mrs. Bennet's voice trailed off as she mounted the stairs. Olivia burst out laughing. Mrs. Bennet's outburst was even more entertaining than Jane had predicted to her. Elizabeth just shook her head.

"Jane, are you sure that was wise? By the time poor Mr. Bingley arrives--."

"By the time he arrives, she will have calmed down a bit," Jane said. But Elizabeth, rolling her eyes, feared that by the time Mr. Bingley arrived, her mother would be even more excited than she was at present. She told Jane so, but Jane shrugged her shoulders.

"I did warn him, Lizzy. He will have to put up with her after we are married, so he shall have to get used to it sometime," she replied with a laugh.

Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice pierced the air with cries of "Jane! Jane!" and the eldest Bennet sister reluctantly rose and left the room. Olivia moved to the spot Jane had vacated and took Elizabeth's hands.

"Dear Livy," Elizabeth said, "It is so good to see you again." Olivia looked deep into Elizabeth's eyes, and although she wanted to turn away, Elizabeth knew that Olivia was not to be evaded. She wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I persuaded Jane to come home a few days early because I was worried about you. You did not respond to my last two letters. Is there something wrong?" Elizabeth knew that the conversation that must ensue could not take place inside the house, and certainly not while Lydia was still lurking about.

"I am fine, Livy," she said with a look in her eye that forestalled Olivia's inevitable rebuttal. "But I want to hear about you. How was your time in Bath?" Elizabeth asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh, Bath was tedious. A Mr. Eliot pursued me without cease, but --."

"Really? Was he very handsome?" Lydia had thrown aside her pretense of trimming a hat to cross the room and join the conversation. Olivia looked askance at the interloper.

"...But," Olivia continued, "He seemed to be far more interested in the size of my dowry and my grandmother's inheritance gift than in my person," Olivia said with a sidelong glance at Lydia, who became even more interested.

"And you were far more interested in a certain Colonel than in a penniless rake," Elizabeth laughed. Lydia's eye grew wide.

"A colonel! Oh, I do love a man in uniform! I hope your colonel is young and handsome, not stodgy and old like that Colonel Forster." Elizabeth could not resist a smirk.

"You had better act fast to secure your Colonel Fitzwilliam before Lydia gets hold of him," she said. Her mother's voice cried out for Lydia upstairs and she responded to the summons even more reluctantly than Jane did.

"Let us make our escape," said Elizabeth, and the two ladies made their way into the garden furthest away from the house. They linked arms and strolled to a bench beneath a tree, where they sat down to talk.

"Now that I have you to myself," Olivia began, "Tell me the truth, Lizzy, how are you?"

"I am well, Livy," Elizabeth replied unconvincingly.

"You have dark circles under your eyes, your face is pale and your eyes have lost their sparkle." Olivia's critique was ruthless and unstinting. "You have been biting your nails, and unless I am greatly mistaken, you have been crying recently." Actually she did not know this to be fact, but it seemed to fit with Elizabeth's overall appearance. Elizabeth looked a way, a silently acknowledging all of which she had been accused. "Lizzy, what has happened?" Elizabeth remained mute, unable to begin. "Has this anything to do with that letter I saw you pull from your breast and crumble into your pocket when you came into the house?" Olivia said mildly, but there was a glint of triumph in her eyes. Elizabeth had to laugh at her friend's accurate assessment. She rose and paced in front of the bench.

"I knew I would not be able to hide anything from you. That is why I hesitated to write earlier. I needed time..." her voice drifted off. Elizabeth was overwhelmed by a burning desire to finish Mr. Darcy's letter. Until she knew what he'd had to say she could not put her own feelings into perspective.

"What do you have to hide?" Olivia asked gently. Elizabeth grew silent again, and Olivia sympathetically allowed her a moment to compose her thoughts. Elizabeth sat down and began her tale.

"Remember the ride back to Gracechurch Street after our outing to the theatre, when you joked that you would make Mr. Darcy ask for my hand in marriage..." Elizabeth's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Mr. Darcy? Lizzy, are you saying that Mr. Darcy did ask for your hand?" Olivia was incredulous. "When? How? I knew that his being in Kent would give him ample opportunity to court you." Elizabeth gave her friend a pained look, then lowered her eyes. "What? He did not court you? What did he do, climb into your window one night and beg you to elope with him?" Elizabeth could not share her friend's smile. Olivia paled. "What did he do, Lizzy?" Elizabeth rose and began to pace again. Olivia followed with her eyes.

"He did not court me, in fact, until the day he proposed I had no idea of his feelings towards me at all, in spite of what you and Jane may have said," she declared with a backward glance at Olivia. "I was supposed to go to Rosings Park for tea. Lady Catherine, Mr. Darcy's aunt, is Mr. Collins' patron, you see, and she had us over to Rosings Park quite frequently. But I had a headache that afternoon, and choose to stay behind at Mr. Collins' cottage. There was a knock at the door and Mr. Darcy entered. He seemed quite distracted about something. The next thing I knew he was proposing marriage."

"How romantic! He kept his love for you secret until he could bear it no longer--." Olivia was instantly transported by the image. Elizabeth abruptly turned to face her.

"I refused him, Livy." Olivia was shocked.

"You refused him? Why on earth would you do that?"

"Because his proposal..." No. She would never reveal to another soul the words they'd exchanged that afternoon. "Because he tried to ruin Jane's romance with Mr. Bingley, because I had heard vile accusations made against him and believed them, because--," she began to sob and she dropped to the bench and fell into Olivia's arms, "And because I have been such a fool that I did not know my own heart." She wept for some time, Olivia stroking her hair and encouraging her to let her tears flow. After a time, Elizabeth grew quiet and raised her head.

"I am sorry, Livy. I cannot seem to do much else but cry these past few days." Elizabeth rose and walked a short distance away to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

"Is that a letter you were writing to him?" Olivia asked gently. Elizabeth shook her head.

"He wrote to me," she said, pulling the handkerchief from her pocket. "He found my grandmother's perfume vial and wanted to return it to me." Olivia stood and took the tiny vial from Elizabeth's outstretched hand.

"I thought you had lost this in London. How did he get it?" she asked.

"I do not know. Perhaps I was mistaken. I could not find it the night we went to the theatre but maybe it was among my things and I just could not locate it. I must have lost it in Hunsford."

"I wonder why he sent it back," Olivia said as she took a whiff of the lavender water. "I should have thought that he would keep it as a remembrance of you."

"He returned it because he sensed that it would be something important to me," Elizabeth said, as she took the vial from Olivia and carefully folded it back into Mr. Darcy's handkerchief. For just a second, she ran her thumb across the fine linen and smiled. She had her own trophy to cherish. Olivia watched as Elizabeth carefully returned the treasure to her pocket and shook her head. One minute she berates him for doing something heinous, the next she calls him honorable. She certainly does not know her own mind. She wondered what had actually passed between them that day, and how two people so obviously suited to one another could have come to their present circumstances. She went to Elizabeth and hugged her tightly.

Olivia came forward and hugged Elizabeth tightly. "Oh, Lizzy," she sighed. "I am sorry. I thought the two of you were meant for each other." Elizabeth pulled away and looked at her friend.

"Why do you say so?" she was curious to know. The two ladies began to walk, but not toward the house. "I thought you did not know Mr. Darcy very well."

"Oh, it has nothing to do with knowing him. It has more to do with--well for lack of a better explanation--the way he looks at you." Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and squinted at Olivia.

"How does he...did he look at me?"

"Like no man I ever saw look at woman," she replied cryptically, her eye fixed on the memory. "The first time I noticed it was in the park that afternoon. He saw you and knew you from a hundred yards away. I am certain of it." Olivia recalled the look in his eyes before he and Colonel took off across the great lawn and the look in his eyes after he'd hit his head and was fixated on Elizabeth. Olivia was convinced at that moment that, had the Colonel let him, Mr. Darcy would have tracked Lizzy all the way to Mr. Bingley's house. "I also remember how he looked at you in the theatre that night. He barely looked at anything else after you smiled at him. If a man looked at me the way he looked at you..."

"As I recall, you were also closely observed that night," Elizabeth said slyly, a hint of her old spirit returning.

"A lot of good that did me. I did not see the Colonel again for a week and the next thing I knew he had gone to see his aunt with Mr. Darcy. You have seen more of him these last few months than I have," Olivia pouted.

"You are in love with him, aren't you?" Elizabeth didn't wait for an answer. "You have my sympathies. 'The course of true love never did run smooth,' to quote the 'Bard of Avon.' At least you did not have to bear the..." Elizabeth covered her mouth suddenly as tears welled up in her eyes and began to cloud her vision.

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth looked up and saw Lydia beckoning her to come inside the house.

"I cannot go in like this," she said, turning away.

"I will make your apologies, but you had better come in quickly or Lydia is likely to come out after you again." Elizabeth nodded and with a last squeeze of hands, Olivia made her way back to the house. Elizabeth judged it best to wait until another time to continue the letter. She dried her tears and pinched her cheeks, and then putting on a brave face, went into the house.

Five

—

"You are getting quite good, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy said sarcastically. The Colonel, who had been besting his cousin in the martial arts since their childhood, cast him a withering glance.

"An eleven year old might have beaten you today, Darcy," the Colonel complained. "You are not even trying." Mr. Darcy did not scruple to argue, but dropped himself into the nearest chair and accepted the glass of water offered by the Colonel. After draining the glass, Mr. Darcy was able to speak.

"I have been thinking, Fitzwilliam," he began, as the Colonel carefully cleaned his epee before gently cradling it in its bracket on the wall. Colonel Fitzwilliam wasn't listening to Mr. Darcy. For the past five days he had listened to his cousin's stream of consciousness ramblings. They had alternated between self-deprecating diatribes and verbal rhapsodies on the perfection of Elizabeth Bennet.

Thinking about what? No! Let me guess? Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Right first time, dear boy! Yes, you are a hopeless fool. No, Darcy, you do not deserve her. Yes, she is quite lovely. No, she will probably never forgive you--. It was not that the Colonel was unsympathetic to his cousin's plight, and he did not begrudge his cousin's proclivity for brooding over his lost love, or even venting his anger and sorrow. Indeed, the Colonel considered his cousin's loquaciousness a far healthier alternative to the gross quantities of alcohol he had allegedly consumed when he first returned to Derbyshire.

But the Colonel's patience was growing thin. For five days now, all he had heard was talk. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was a man of action and he found his cousin's inertia frustrating, to put it mildly. Do something, man! Put up a fight for her--she cannot do anything worse to you than she has done already. You have nothing to lose, except your blasted pride! And that might, quite frankly, be the making of you, my friend. Colonel Fitzwilliam had been standing with his back to his cousin in order to conceal his exasperation. Now he turned around to face him, his face a blank mask.

"What did you say?" Mr. Darcy's last words had caught Colonel Fitzwilliam off guard.

"You have not been listening, have you?" Mr. Darcy stood and confronted his cousin. "You have not heard a single word I have said in the last three minutes!" As Mr. Darcy drew closer to the Colonel, annoyance briefly flashed in his eyes. The Colonel did not answer, inwardly welcoming Mr. Darcy's show of emotion. It was the first sign of the old Darcy he had seen in some time. The Colonel briefly considered baiting him further, but opted instead to hear what his cousin had to say.

"I am sorry, Darcy. I am afraid I did allow my mind to wander a bit." He grinned apologetically, and Mr. Darcy sighed.

"I said that I received a letter from Bingley. He is on his way to Hertfordshire and has asked me to join him there. The wedding is not until sometime in August but he means to stay close to his betrothed until then." Mr. Darcy strode to the window and leaned on the frame. "I have been considering his invitation," he said as his eyes surveyed the herb garden below the window. "What do you think, Fitzwilliam?"

"What I think does not matter, Darcy," the Colonel said, joining him at the window. "Are you ready to meet Miss Bennet again? We had spoken about it as a distant possibility, but this is far sooner than you might have hoped for. Are you ready to face her?" Colonel Fitzwilliam searched Mr. Darcy's eyes, hoping that he would agree to go. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he would be able to get on with his life. Mr. Darcy turned away from the view, still leaning on the frame.

"There is something I have not told you, Fitz," he said in a low voice. He closed his eyes and sighed as the Colonel waited. "I have written to Miss Bennet." The Colonel looked at his cousin a moment, confused.

"You mean you have written to her again?"

"Yes. A few days ago; in fact, on the morning of your arrival I sent her an express." Even as Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to form a question, Mr. Darcy continued. "I had something I had to return to her, you see," he said with a hint of a smile on his lips. "A debt of honor, you might say." Mr. Darcy straightened up and headed for the door. "It is a long story, Fitzwilliam. Let us get cleaned up and I will explain it over dinner."

"Why did you wait so long?" the Colonel asked as the servants departed with the last of the dinner dishes. "You might have returned it to her at the theatre." The swirling dark red wine at the bottom of his glass momentarily mesmerized Mr. Darcy.

"I did not know that I would see her there," he said, then he smiled. "I confess I did have a fantasy about returning it to her after she accepted my proposal." Mr. Darcy blushed at his boyish romanticism, and Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled.

"So you carried that vial with you the whole time you were in Kent?" he asked. Mr. Darcy nodded, and put down the glass.

"Whenever I held it, or looked upon it, or opened it and breathed its scent...her scent..." Mr. Darcy caught himself and flushed again.

"So what did you say in the letter?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked as he dug into his trifle.

"Surely you did not attempt to renew your advances to the lady."

"No, no, of course not. I wrote at first simply to tell Miss Bennet that I had found the vial and was returning it to her."

"And then?"

"And then...I realized that I had an opportunity, perhaps my last opportunity to tell her how I felt about her." Mr. Darcy stabbed at his trifle with his spoon. "If...when I see her again, I will not be able to speak what is and will always be in my heart. I wanted her to know that although I went about things badly, I truly..." he ran a hand over the lower half of his face, feeling his emotions begin to well up in his throat. The sentence remained unfinished. Colonel Fitzwilliam rose, patted Mr. Darcy on the shoulder, and left him to his sorrow. A few minutes later, Mr. Darcy joined the Colonel in the library and accepted a glass of brandy. The Colonel poked at the fire in the grate as Mr. Darcy went to look out the window.

"I am going to Hertfordshire," he declared. The Colonel paused at his task for a second and smiled to himself. Good show, Darcy. Good show.

• • •

It was nearly midnight before the house grew still. Elizabeth, Jane, and Olivia had sat up quite late in Jane's room discussing Mr. Bingley, their courtship, and wedding plans. Jane told of her difficulties in dealing with Miss Bingley. She had invited herself to accompany Mr. Bingley on his visit to Gracechurch Street on more than one occasion. Although Miss Bingley always behaved within the bounds of propriety, Jane was no longer blind to Miss Bingley's hostility towards her. Elizabeth was a bit surprised by Jane's newfound self-assuredness, and was pleased. Olivia had undoubtedly been an influence; she had kept a close eye on Jane and Mr. Bingley's progress before she went to Bath, and had managed to instill some of her own spirit in Jane before she left.

"Of course, Miss Bingley became far more unpleasant after Mr. Bingley's proposal," Jane confided with a smile, "Because since then she has been trying to be nice to me." The ladies all giggled and Olivia asked for more details about the engagement but Jane, sensing Elizabeth's discomfort with the topic, begged off and sought her bed. Olivia apologized for her thoughtlessness.

"I am sorry, Lizzy. I did not think--does it bother you to speak of Jane's engagement?" Elizabeth laughed, but sadly.

"No, no, there is nothing I would rather talk about than Jane's engagement to Mr. Bingley. I am so very happy for them both. For a while I had feared that Mr. Darcy would prevent it."

"Surely you do not believe that Mr. Darcy would be so vindictive. Just because he did not succeed with you does not mean he would begrudge his friend his happiness." Elizabeth rose and went to close her window. She leaned on the frame and stared out at the garden, its details only barely perceptible in the moonlight.

"He did not scruple to intervene before and with less incentive," she said petulantly. Then she softened. "No, I suppose he would not," she conceded. Olivia watched her friend for as she stared into the night.

"Lizzy," she said. "You do realize that you will have to face him again. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are very close friends. He is bound to be invited to Jane's wedding, and more than likely will be a frequent visitor to Netherfield." Olivia paused as Elizabeth absorbed her statement. "Have you thought about how you plan to deal with this?"

"No...I have not," Elizabeth replied slowly. She remembered the letter that was still tucked under the pillow where she had hidden it when Jane and Olivia invaded her bedroom. "But I suppose I will have to now, will I not?" She smiled, and then made a show of yawning and stretching. Olivia took the hint and bade Elizabeth a good night.

Elizabeth climbed into her bed, and tucked herself under the quilts. She drew the letter and the handkerchief out from under the pillow. Fluffing up the pillow to cradle her head, Elizabeth settled back and opened the letter. She read it again from the beginning, but was interrupted by a knock on her door before she reached the point where she had stopped earlier. She hastily shoved the missive under the quilts.

"Lizzy?" Her father poked his head into her room. "I thought you had retired hours ago."

"I had, father. But Jane, Livy and I began to talk about Mr. Bingley and the wedding and, well, the next thing you know it was quite late."" She smiled sheepishly. Her father gave her an indulgent look.

"Do not, I beg of you--do not let your good sense degenerate into that of your younger sisters," he said as he began to pull the door closed.

"Papa?" Elizabeth called out before he had gone. Mr. Bennet opened the door, a bit surprised by her appeal. "Do you really think I have good sense?" Her father looked at her quizzically for a moment then went to sit on the edge of Elizabeth's bed.

"What manner of question is that, child? You know full well what I think of you." He looked into Elizabeth's eyes for a moment, then took her hand in his. "Tell me what is troubling you, my dear girl," he said softly.

"You have always given me credit for being sensible. I am just wondering if perhaps I have been too clever for my own good." Mr. Bennet looked into Elizabeth's eyes once more.

"Is this about Jane? I thought you liked Mr. Bingley--." Elizabeth immediately interrupted him and set him straight.

"No, father, I have nothing to say against Mr. Bingley. I could not be happier with the way that things have gone between them." She laughed for a moment, remembering her trip to the park with Olivia to seek her sister's new fiancé. "No, father, I am worried about myself. I fear that I have become so enamored of my own wit and cleverness that I have allowed them to override that good sense you are so proud of."

"I think that there is little chance of that, my pet. Your good sense has always stood you in good stead. Now, to sleep with you child, before I am forced to change my opinion of you," Mr. Bennet said with a wink. He kissed Elizabeth on the forehead and padded out of her room. Elizabeth sighed as she watched him go. She lay back and considered her father's words, but she did not feel equal to his praise. I have judged Mr. Darcy very ill, and I do not know if I will ever trust myself again. Had I used my 'good sense' I might have behaved so differently towards him. I did nothing to earn his good opinion of me. In fact, I do not know how he came to love me at all! She dug around under the quilts and withdrew Mr. Darcy's letter to seek the answer.

I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I am not certain when it happened, perhaps when you were at Netherfield attending your sister in her time of illness, perhaps even earlier. You must understand that I had been acquainted with you some weeks before I truly allowed myself to see you, to look beyond the barriers I myself had imposed between us. Those barriers blinded me to all that I have since come to love and cherish about you. I am sorry if my declarations upset you, but I must speak plainly, as I should have done earlier. Perhaps if I had trusted my heart rather than my reason to guide my actions I might have proved a better lover.

But I have never met anyone like you, my dear Elizabeth. I have never known a woman with your combination of beauty, intelligence, wit, and charm. Every time I encountered you my senses were left reeling. I saw in you someone who challenged my every preconceived notion of what it meant to love a woman, for I have grown to love you in ways I never dreamt of. I was completely enchanted by your spirit and the tenacity with which you frequently sought to engage me in a battle of wits. And although I know that you meant to put me off, our "battles" only made you all the more interesting. I found in you, my Elizabeth, my equal in intelligence, in temperament, and in passion. I remember our conversations at Netherfield, where your liveliness and superiority of understanding led to spirited debates that established in my mind, at least, a kind of intimacy I had never known with one of your sex.

But I must also confess that I was also frightened by your perspicacity, your uncanny ability to reach into my soul to reveal truths about me that I had never myself revealed. At times you seemed to know myself even better than I did and I confess that I was as put off as I was intrigued by your discernment. But I found much more to love than to fear. Perhaps it was this incendiary combination that made you so irresistible and reduced me to becoming, as my cousin Fitzwilliam, put it, "a lovesick fool."

I am a lovesick fool, dearest Elizabeth, and I will ever be thus. Although I have lost all hope of winning your love, I can do naught else but love you until the day I die.

Elizabeth was too teary-eyed to read the closing. She hugged the letter to her heart and, comforted by the knowledge that he still loved her, soon fell sound asleep.

• • •

Olivia returned to town two days later, just as she promised her father she would. She had done her best to convince Elizabeth to join her, but Elizabeth declined, claiming that the quietude and serenity of Hertfordshire was far more conducive to recovering from a broken heart than London. That Elizabeth feared the possibility of encountering Mr. Darcy in town, she kept to herself. Olivia was reluctantly forced to leave her friend behind, and thought about Elizabeth all the way back to town. As her carriage drew to a stop, she spied Colonel Fitzwilliam coming down the steps of the Crenshaw townhouse. The Colonel opened the carriage door and handed out the greatly surprised and delighted Olivia.

"Why Colonel Fitzwilliam! This is a most unexpected pleasure. Have you been visiting with my father, or have you been posted here as a sentry?" she asked with her most beguiling smile. The Colonel looked down at his uniform and frowned.

"Madam," he said, in a condescending tone, "Colonels do not stand sentry!" Olivia could not suppress her laughter and the Colonel could not maintain a straight face for very long.

"Forgive me, Colonel! Would you care to remain here and debate military protocol or can I persuade you to return with me into the house?" The Colonel needed no persuasion. He offered Miss Crenshaw his arm and escorted her into the parlor.

Olivia's father received her warmly and she delivered greetings from all of his friends in Hertfordshire. After a very few minutes, Mr. Crenshaw excused himself and retired to his study. Olivia looked after her father suspiciously. It was unlike her father to leave her alone with a visitor and especially, as in this case, with a young man. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam and wondered what exactly had occasioned his visit to Olivia's father. She tried not to jump to the obvious conclusion, and asked with just a hint of nervousness in her voice if the Colonel would care for tea.

"Thank you, no. I had tea with your father a short while ago, and besides I cannot stay for very long." The Colonel sat beside Olivia on the settee and her heart began to flutter wildly. The Colonel smiled at her and said, "I understand you were lately in Hertfordshire." Olivia nodded. The Colonel moved a wee bit closer to her. "Excellent. I would like to speak to you about Elizabeth Bennet." Olivia didn't quite understand.

"Lizzy? Wh...what about her?" she said, perplexed by his line of questioning.

"I would like to know if she is as in love with my cousin Darcy as he is with her." Olivia stared at the Colonel for a second, then looked away and bit back her disappointment. She berated herself for expecting a proposal from the Colonel. After all, it had been nearly three months since she had seen him and it was highly unlikely that he would seek permission to ask for her hand while she was out of town. She tried to focus on the Colonel's question and put all other thoughts out of her mind. But she found it difficult to do so. She wished--but wishes would not do.

"I am not sure I can answer that question, Colonel," she said reluctantly.

"Surely, Miss Bennet confided in you..."

"Yes, she did. But I cannot betray a confidence," Olivia declared. The Colonel was a bit taken back by Miss Crenshaw's reluctance. After all, it was she who had inspired the plot he had been hatching since he left his cousin Darcy in Derbyshire.

"Miss Crenshaw," he said rising and walking to the window. He always thought more clearly when Miss Crenshaw was not quite so close. "Three months ago you were determined to bring Miss Bennet and Darcy together. Are you going to tell me now that you have changed your mind?"

"Much has happened since we last spoke, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Olivia said quietly.

"You are aware, then, that Darcy proposed to Miss Bennet and was rejected."

"Yes," Olivia said, unable to meet the Colonel's eyes. Her own sense of disappointment mingled with memories of that afternoon when Elizabeth had cried in her arms. The Colonel looked out of the window at a passing carriage, unaware of the turbulence of Olivia's thoughts.

"I have spent the last week in Darcy's company. He confessed that he made a terrible blunder in proposing to Miss Bennet in the manner that he did--" The Colonel paused briefly, as memories of Mr. Darcy's anguished confession flashed through his mind. "He regrets it terribly and has no hope of ever being able to undo the damage he has caused Miss Bennet." The Colonel turned to face Olivia, but she kept her face averted from him. "I came here today, on his behalf, to try and find out if there is any chance that this sad state of affairs can somehow be put right and that there can be a happy ending to all this." Olivia glanced at the Colonel then, and quickly turned away. She could not trust herself to look into his eyes. She rose and wandered about the room, trying to focus on her dear Lizzy. She wanted to act as Elizabeth would wish her to under the circumstances. But she could not completely swallow her bitterness, and replied a bit harshly.

"Did Mr. Darcy send you, then? For I recall that you refused once before to intervene where that man was concerned." Colonel Fitzwilliam ran a hand through his hair, and was forced to confess that he had changed his mind.

"When last we spoke on this matter, Miss Crenshaw, I was not convinced--as you were--that there was anything serious between my cousin and Miss Bennet." The Colonel began to pace in front of the window. "I knew that he admired her, as any man might admire an attractive and charming woman. It was not until we left London that I became convinced that Darcy was truly in love. I had an opportunity to see them together in Kent. I now agree with you that Darcy loves Elizabeth Bennet and that she has feelings for him, although she seemed unwilling to admit them at the time. I need to know that she--." The Colonel stopped in his tracks, for he noticed that tears were running down Olivia's cheeks. Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately went to her side.

"Miss Crenshaw, what is wrong?" He gently took hold of her arms and looked into her eyes, silently pleading, but Olivia did not speak. The Colonel led her back to the settee and sat her down. Olivia sighed heavily and finally began to speak, but her message reflected a combination of anguish over Elizabeth's plight and her own frustration and anger at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"What Mr. Darcy did to Lizzy was unconscionable! How can he claim to love her and do such things as he did to her sister? And now he would wish to make things right! The arrogance of men, believing that they can do one thing one day and have a change of heart the next. Three months ago I begged for your assistance and you refused to give it--on principle, you said. You come to me today and ask me to betray a friend's confidence because you now deem them worthy of aid. Now that you see things clearly you suddenly have no scruples about interfering in the lives of your dearest relations, and yet three months ago, I was silly and manipulative to consider trying to make two deserving people happy. But now that you have had a change of heart..." The Colonel squinted at Miss Crenshaw, trying to untangle her message, which came out in a rush, punctuated by sobs. She looked up at him and he smiled. She glowered.

"Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel said, "I am guilty on all counts--at least I think I am," he said with a frown, "Save one. I have had no change of heart where you are concerned." Olivia looked into his eyes then, and held her breath. "But I am afraid we will have to discuss that at another time. I am overdue back at my office and the general will have my head if I do not return to our encampment immediately."

But he made no move to leave. The Colonel drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and as he had done once before, he gently and carefully wiped away Olivia's tears. He put away the handkerchief, kissed Olivia on the mouth ever so gently, and disappeared before her heart dared to beat again. Olivia did not move for a brief eternity. Then gathering herself, she ran upstairs to her room and enthusiastically wrote a letter to Elizabeth, renewing her invitation to London.

• • •

Colonel Fitzwilliam was indeed late in returning to his office and, as such, the vindictive general saddled him with the worst assignment he could think of. The Colonel therefore spent the better part of the next two weeks doing an inspection tour of every encampment along the southern coast of England.

He did manage to get word of his fate to Olivia by way of her younger brother Edward, who was smart enough to appreciate his sister's good fortune at having secured the affections of the good colonel and his own good fortune at the prospect of being connected with someone so ideally situated to further his own career. Edward plied his sister for details of her engagement, but Olivia insisted that there was none. Mr. Crenshaw remained mute on the topic, and with a twinkle in his eye endured the efforts of his progeny to ferret out what had transpired between himself and Colonel Fitzwilliam. After a day or two of investigation, all they could learn from the more talkative servants was that the Colonel had spent an hour behind closed doors with the master, and that he had come out of the room smiling.

"Well, that tells us nothing," Edward complained. "Why, Colonel Fitzwilliam has been known to smile while..." Edward declared before reconsidering what he might have revealed to his sister. Olivia, however, was not at all put out by the unsettled state of things. She knew that she and the Colonel had reached an understanding, and that was sufficient to carry her through the interval between his departure and his return.

• • •

It was a beautiful clear late June morning when Mr. Darcy arrived at Netherfield. He had spent another week at Pemberley putting his affairs in order, and he had also spent a week at the home of Colonel Fitzwilliam's parents, the Earl of Matlock and his lady, where he visited with his sister Georgiana, who was spending her summer there. When he stepped from his carriage all the memories of the past autumn came flooding back and with them the knowledge that Elizabeth was near, very near to him once more.

Mr. Bingley and his sister Caroline greeted Mr. Darcy and saw to it that he was properly settled. When Mr. Darcy came downstairs, a servant informed him that Mr. Bingley was in the parlor with his fiancée and her sister. Mr. Darcy panicked momentarily. He had not expected his reunion to come so soon, but no sooner did he enter the room than he realized that the sister in question was not his Elizabeth, but Catherine. She greeted Mr. Darcy with an air of formality that fairly proclaimed her dislike of him. He was slightly taken aback by her aloofness, but he was more concerned about how Jane Bennet might receive him. Mr. Darcy had given considerable thought to how she might react upon meeting him again. Undoubtedly, Elizabeth had told Jane all about Mr. Darcy's interference and he had decided that if Jane Bennet had any misgivings or objections to his presence in the wedding party, he would withdraw. He had cost Jane and his friend a great deal of pain and would trouble them no more. To his surprise, however, Jane greeted Mr. Darcy like an old friend, leaving Mr. Darcy to conclude that Elizabeth had not spoken of his interference as he had assumed. At first he could not believe it, but he gradually accepted that Elizabeth had decided not to pain her sister or Mr. Bingley with what was now to be relegated to the past.

"You are most welcome back to Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy. It is a very long time since your last visit," Jane said with a sincere and unaffected smile that embarrassed Mr. Darcy. Even if Elizabeth had spared Jane the details of his involvement in Jane and Mr. Bingley's travails, he could not forget the injuries he had done to her and Bingley, and he could not imagine that Jane was unaware of Mr. Darcy's own involvement with Elizabeth. But he made an effort to respond in kind and soon felt more at ease.

Miss Bingley exploited her earliest opportunity to ingratiate herself with Mr. Darcy. She had been observing him closely since his arrival, and sensing his discomfort, ascribed it to his distaste for Hertfordshire and in particular, Jane Bennet.

"I do wish," she said conspiratorially, "That you would say something to Charles. He is determined to throw himself away on this nobody of a girl. There is still time--." Mr. Darcy withdrew his arm, which she had wrapped herself around, and turned to confront Miss Bingley.

"And why should I wish to do that, Miss Bingley? My feelings about Bingley's marriage are the same as they were last month in London."

"You do not mean to say you really approve of this match? I thought you only said that to placate him! Oh, do reconsider, Mr. Darcy. I am quite desperate for your assistance." She gripped his arm as she entreated him, and Mr. Darcy became quite disgusted. Barely restraining his temper, he wrested his arm away once more.

"Miss Bingley! I have made my feelings on this matter quite clear and I will brook no further interference in Bingley and Miss Bennet's affairs!" His tone was menacing. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Miss Bingley blanched and stepped back. Mr. Darcy stormed out of the house. He strolled the grounds for some time, until he encountered Mr. Bingley, Jane, and Catherine at the edge of the wood. The ladies were picking flowers and all three were engaged in pleasant conversation. When Catherine saw Mr. Darcy, she changed her direction to give him wide berth. Mr. Bingley sauntered after her, leaving Jane to greet Mr. Darcy. He offered her his arm and they followed the others.

"You must forgive Kitty, Mr. Darcy. She is somewhat in awe of you," she said with an apologetic smile. Mr. Darcy looked a bit surprised, but Jane did not comment on it.

"And you, Miss Bennet, I cannot imagine that you can be very glad to see me either," he said somewhat sheepishly. It was Jane's turn to be surprised.

"Why Mr. Darcy, why do you say so? I cannot imagine why I should not be glad to see the closest friend of my future husband."

"I have not always been a good friend to your future husband," Mr. Darcy replied, his head lowered in shame. "In fact, both you and he have every right to consider me an enemy."

"Mr. Darcy!" Jane cried, her eyes wide. "What terrible crime are you guilty of that would make us no longer friends?" Mr. Darcy looked at Jane and realized that he had been right in concluding that neither Elizabeth nor Bingley had betrayed him. They started walking again and when they reached the main garden Mr. Darcy invited her to sit on a teak bench a short distance from the rest of the party. Mr. Bingley looked over at them and saw that they were engaged in a serious discussion, and understanding his friend's need to deal with the past, did not intrude.

"Miss Bennet, I have a confession to make. What I am about to tell you may rightfully make you hate me, and if after you have heard what I am about to say you do not want me to be further connected with your wedding--or for that matter with Bingley--I will understand." Jane immediately began to protest, but he silenced her with a hand. "Please hear me out, Miss Bennet."

"I know about you and Lizzy," she said simply. Mr. Darcy's head jerked up. He would have to tell Jane about that as well.

"What I have to speak about goes beyond my dealings with your sister, Miss Bennet." He paused to gather his thoughts, and then clearing his throat, he began his tale.

"I had not been two weeks in Hertfordshire before I became aware of Bingley's feelings for you. In fact," he said with a chuckle, "I would be very surprised if I was the only one who noticed it. I have known Bingley since we were boys, and I have seen him lose his head over a pretty girl more times than I can count." Mr. Darcy smiled at the memories of his Cambridge days, and Jane smiled as well. When Mr. Darcy saw this, his face abruptly fell. He knew that what came next would be painful for both of them. "But I knew that what he felt for you was different. It was serious, and I grew very concerned that he might be making a big mistake."

"Mistake, Mr. Darcy?" Jane's question carried no anger or malice, simply an inquiry.

"I thought that--I was afraid that although you seemed to enjoy his company, that you did not share his feelings. I was afraid that you wanted him for his money," he said in a rush, no longer able to look Jane in the eye. "You would not have been the first girl to encourage a man she did not love in order to secure a home and a position in society." He drew a heavy sigh. Beside him, Jane sat quietly, patiently listening. Mr. Darcy almost wished for her to lash out at him. Her composure made him uncomfortable; he remembered Lizzy saying to him in Hunsford that Jane was not a person to let her feelings show. He tried not to think of Jane's sister as he continued. "I mistook your quiet nature, Miss Bennet. I observed you closely and saw no particular signs of regard for my friend, and I took it upon myself to inform him of my suspicions that you did not love him and were seeking to marry him only for his money." Jane turned to look at him now, but her face bespoke understanding rather than rage.

"Then it was your doing. It was your advice that led him to suddenly quit Netherfield and return to town."

"It was my unasked for interference that unnecessarily separated you from Bingley all that time. If it had not been for me you and Bingley might have been married months ago. He had planned a short trip to London, expecting to return in but a few days' time. Miss Bingley, her brother, sister, and I followed after him, and convinced him to remain in town and to forget you. I convinced him that you were no more than an adventuress." Jane bowed her head, and Mr. Darcy, who had risen and begun pacing as his agitation grew, sat beside Jane, took her hand in his, and said softly, "I believe that Bingley went to London to purchase this very ring. He would have returned to Hertfordshire and asked for your hand before the year was out." He let her hand go and rubbed his hands over his face. "I have offered my apologies to Bingley, and good man that he is, he has forgiven me. I hope that someday I may be worthy to be called your friend again, Miss Bennet."

"You did what you thought was in the best interest of your friend," Jane countered, "and while you erred in your judgment--."

"I had absolutely no right to pass judgment," Mr. Darcy blurted out, causing Jane to shudder and his friends across the lawn to turn in his direction. It was Jane's turn to be agitated, but unlike Mr. Darcy, no evidence of her inner turmoil was visible to the naked eye. Lizzy would have known Jane's heart at that moment, but Lizzy was not there. After a moment of pained silence, Jane turned to Mr. Darcy and asked about her sister.

"Did Lizzy know of this?" The simple question pierced Mr. Darcy's soul. He could only nod in reply. "And that is why she refused your proposal?" Mr. Darcy heaved another sigh and told her everything that had transpired between himself and Elizabeth in Hunsford.

"Even as I thought you unworthy of my friend's regard, I could not help falling in love with your sister. I fought it every way I could, but to no avail. I accused Bingley of contemplating a marriage to someone of little fortune, no connections, and--forgive me for saying so--an unsuitable family." Jane bowed her head, but made no protest. Mr. Darcy rose and began to pace again, aware that Miss Bingley and her brother were watching his every move. "I was arrogant, self-righteous, and conceited, Miss Bennet. I felt that in marrying you, Bingley would be marrying beneath himself. Yet even as I persuaded Bingley to leave off his romance with you, I found myself falling hopelessly in love with Eliz--Miss Elizabeth. I grew more wretched every time I saw her. I could not will myself to forget her. Every time I looked upon Bingley's miserable face in London, I felt like a complete hypocrite.

"Finally, when I encountered your sister again in Kent I could no longer deny what I felt, and I went to Miss Elizabeth and proposed." He stopped pacing and stared at a patch of verdant grass. "I botched it terribly. I fancied myself to be desired by her. I loved her so much--we seemed so alike in heart and mind, I assumed that she felt for me what I felt for her. I had no idea how much she despised me..." Jane began to protest but Mr. Darcy spoke on. "In my blindness, I could not see that I destroyed every chance of succeeding with her when I separated you from Bingley. Nor did I understand that she saw me very differently than I saw her. My proposal was a travesty. I insulted her, your family...I gave her every reason to never want to see or hear from me again. She told me that I was the last man she could ever wish to marry." Mr. Darcy paused, his breathing ragged, he looked pale, spent, and dejected. Jane rose, took hold of his arm and tried to comfort him.

"Mr. Darcy, I am so very sorry for you. I had such hopes that you and Lizzy..." Mr. Darcy looked at Jane, his eyes almost feral. He laughed bitterly.

"No, Miss Bennet. Do not attempt to deprive me of my due. I do not deserve your sympathy. I do not deserve your saintly kindness. And I most certainly do not deserve your sister." He gently pulled away from her, and went indoors. Mr. Bingley went to Jane and she laid her head on his arm, tears welling up in her eyes.

• • •

Miss Bingley swept past the footman who held the door open for her and ran after Mr. Darcy calling out his name. He stopped, but did not turn to face her.

"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! A word, sir, if you please." Miss Bingley's appeal was met with silence, as Mr. Darcy focused on the stairs that lay before him.

"Mr. Darcy, I could not help but see your confrontation with Miss Bennet just now." Miss Bingley paused, and Mr. Darcy turned his head slightly to listen. When she remained silent he said, "Yes?"

"I do not know what you said to her, but she seems very upset. I want to apologize for speaking to you as I did before..." Mr. Darcy was confused by the juxtaposition of these two statements. He turned and faced her fully.

"Madam, I do not grasp your meaning." Miss Bingley looked at Mr. Darcy's face and was astonished by what she saw there. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face was drawn and he was pale. For a moment she could not speak, and Mr. Darcy made as if to turn away.

"Mr. Darcy, I was wrong to ask you to lie to my brother. How much more clever, not to mention effective," she said slyly, "To speak to the prospective 'bride' directly?" Mr. Darcy's face turned beet red and his lethargic demeanor was replaced by rage. But instead of lashing out at the frightened woman, he abruptly turned and sought the solitude of his room, where he stayed until it was time for dinner.

• • •

For a while, Jane and Mr. Bingley simply stood there in the garden, Jane too emotional to speak and Mr. Bingley unwilling to further upset his fiancée. Jane grew restless, however, and so they began to wander aimlessly about the grounds. Mr. Bingley was extremely curious as to what had transpired between his future bride and his dearest friend and could only surmise that it had something to do with Mr. Darcy's revelation in London. But he refused to pry--he simply waited to be of use, ready to support Jane in any way he could. After a few minutes, Mr. Bingley noticed that Jane was crying. He offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully, but she continued to let her tears flow freely.

"I wish there was a way to turn back the clock and undo all of this," Jane said finally, with a sigh. Mr. Bingley did not quite know what to make of her comment, but he was prepared to listen patiently. "Mr. Darcy," she continued, wiping at her eyes and cheeks, "Lizzy, you, me...I wish there was someway to put things right."

"Things are quite 'right' between us, I should say," Mr. Bingley offered. Jane smiled at him indulgently.

"Yes, they are my love," she said, stroking his cheek. "But your friendship with Mr. Darcy must have suffered for this...and Lizzy..." Mr. Bingley frowned.

"What of Miss Elizabeth," he began to ask, but Jane suddenly froze. She glanced at Mr. Bingley and her eyes grew wide.

"Forgive me, Charles. I must leave at once. I know I was supposed to dine with you this evening, but believe me, I have an urgent matter to attend to and I must go at once." Jane turned and would have run back toward the house, but Mr. Bingley caught her arm. Jane turned back.

"Please, Charles. You must assure Mr. Darcy that I bear him no malice for what has occurred and that I am not leaving Netherfield to avoid his company. He will probably not believe you, but you must convince him because it is true." She looked Mr. Bingley in the eye and exacted a silent promise. He wanted to speak, but instead kissed her and let her go. Jane ran off, stopping only to turn back once more and assure Mr. Bingley that she loved him and would return on the morrow.

• • •

Olivia was absorbed in practicing a difficult piece on the pianoforte when the parlor door opened to admit Colonel Fitzwilliam. She blushed furiously, for she had resorted to the instrument to distract herself from the almost constant temptation to fantasize about her reunion with the man who now stood before her, resplendent in his red coat, with the improbable addition of a large basket over his arm. Olivia rose and went to greet him, suddenly unsure of herself. The Colonel, however, putting the basket aside, grasped Olivia's hands and drew her very close. Then he flushed, slightly and stepped back with an embarrassed laugh in which Olivia joined him. Mr. Crenshaw came into the room and greeted the Colonel warmly.

"How are you, my boy? None the worst for your travels, I gather," he said. He made small talk for a few minutes, as Mr. Crenshaw was wont to do, then he pointedly suggested that the Colonel take Olivia for a walk. Colonel Fitzwilliam obeyed immediately.

"How was your trip, Colonel?" Olivia asked, as she and the Colonel strolled arm in arm.

"It was mercifully tedious and uneventful," the Colonel replied with a smile. Olivia squinted at him quizzically. "Had it been interesting and eventful, I might still be in Brighton, rather than here in the presence of far pleasanter company," the Colonel explained with that smile that made Olivia's knees grow weak. "What have you been up to in my absence?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, since Olivia seemed unequal to keeping up her end of the conversation. But she suddenly came out of her trance and spoke up excitedly.

"I have convinced Lizzy to come to town. She is to arrive tomorrow, and if you would now do your part--"

"You did what?" the Colonel cried, stopping in his tracks to turn on the bewildered lady. Around them, people stared as they walked by.

"I convinced Lizzy to come to town," Olivia replied reasonably. "You asked for my help in reuniting her with your cousin. I have invited Lizzy to stay with me until the wedding. I reckoned that you could persuade Mr. Darcy to come to London--." Before she was able to complete her sentence, the Colonel had rolled his eyes and walked off. He abruptly came back and erupted.

"You fool! You silly, scheming little... Why on earth did you do that? Do you have any idea what you just did?" Olivia's eyes were wide and beginning to brim with tears and Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately regretted his outburst. "I am sorry, Miss Crenshaw," he said, reaching for his handkerchief. "I seem to have a penchant for making you cry..." Olivia snatched the handkerchief from him and turned away. The Colonel sighed.

"Miss Crenshaw...Olivia...I am sorry. It is just that you have ruined--." Olivia spun around.

"Ruined what?" she demanded. She looked into the Colonel's eyes and he felt awful. He took her arm and led her to a bench where they could speak more privately.

"Well? What have I done that is so terrible? You did ask for my help," Olivia reminded the Colonel. He shook his head.

"So I did. But I did not ask you to invite Miss Bennet to town!"

"So I was to help you, but I was not permitted to show any initiative," Olivia replied. "Forgive me, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I am unused to following orders," she said sarcastically. The Colonel smiled.

"Well, you had better get used to it, young lady." Olivia's eyebrows shot up.

"What is that supposed to mean? And what is it that I am supposed to have ruined?" The Colonel ran a hand through his hair.

"I just had a letter from my cousin Georgiana telling me that Darcy went into Hertfordshire a few days ago to visit Bingley." Olivia's mouth formed a small "O." "I knew that he had an invitation from Bingley before I left Derbyshire and that he planned on accepting it, but I did not know when he would be going. When I last spoke with Darcy, he said something about getting some major piece of estate business taken care of before leaving Pemberley." Olivia looked at the Colonel with a smirk.

"Perhaps," she said, "You are not as good an officer as you think. I may be a civilian-- and a girl civilian at that--but it seems to me that the officer in charge should inform his troops of his strategy if he expects them to carry out his commands." The Colonel stared at Olivia for a moment, lost in the beauty of her smile. Then he gathered his wits about him and suggested that they go back to the house and map a new strategy--together.

• • •

Mr. Darcy lay prostrate on the huge four poster bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt wretched, physically spent by the afternoon's exertions. He considered summoning his valet to pack his things, but he thought better of it. He would give his host the satisfaction of throwing him out of Netherfield, if Mr. Bingley chose to do so. Mr. Darcy slowly realized that he actually felt better about himself than he had in some weeks. He had atoned for his sins and while his heart was still mourning the loss of his beloved Elizabeth, he was able to find some comfort in knowing that she now knew that he truly loved her. Mr. Darcy knew that Elizabeth would give his letter a fair hearing, even if she chose to never speak to him again. He turned over on his stomach and tried to nap, but just as his eyes closed there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened to admit Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy sat up and braced himself for an ugly scene.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked mildly, coming to sit beside him on the bed. The question disarmed Mr. Darcy, who was unprepared for such a question.

"I feel better knowing that the truth is out, for all the good it will do any of us. I am sorry, Bingley. I know my confession must have hurt Miss Bennet deeply but I could not allow her to go on believing--." Mr. Darcy stopped and bowed his head. Mr. Bingley put a fraternal hand on his shoulder. Mr. Darcy stiffened momentarily, then relaxed.

"Jane would not say what you spoke of, but I believe she was more concerned for you than herself," Mr. Bingley said. He hesitated a moment before adding, "What did you tell her?"

"I told her the plain, unvarnished truth about how I had separated you two." Mr. Darcy threw his head back and glanced at the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut. "I am sorry, Bingley, heartily sorry for all the trouble I have--"

"We have been through this before. What is done is done. I am only concerned now about the future." Mr. Darcy's bitter, ironic smile made Mr. Bingley cock his head to one

side in question.

"You, at least, have a future to look forward to," Mr. Darcy said softly. He stood and strode to the window. "As for myself..."

"Does this concern another Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, rising to join him at the window.

"Yes, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said with an edge of exasperation. "Elizabeth Bennet learned of my interference between you and her sister, and I have paid the ultimate price for it. I have lost her forever."

"How did she learn of it?"

"Who knows--sometimes I think that woman knows more about me than I do," Mr. Darcy answered abstractedly, more to himself than his friend. Mr. Bingley interposed himself between Mr. Darcy and the window, grabbing the man by the shoulders.

"Are you in love with her?" Mr. Darcy knew he didn't need to reply. "Well, what are you going to do about it, man? Go to Longbourn; talk to her! Beg her forgiveness!" He shook Mr. Darcy's shoulders for emphasis. Mr. Darcy was slightly amused by this sudden display of passion, but he pulled away from Mr. Bingley and walked away.

"I cannot!" He shouted. "Not yet," he said in a much softer tone.

• • •

...My dear friend, you simply must come to town. My dear Colonel Fitzwilliam (I now feel that I may rightly refer to him as "my Colonel," but you must come to London if you would know why!) has gone off to Brighton or some other dreadful place for a few weeks and I am desolate...

Elizabeth smiled and refolded Olivia's letter, placing it on the bureau before returning to her chore. She and the maid had laid out a number of dresses and she was trying to decide which to take with her to London. It was now late June, and Elizabeth would have to make alterations to a few of the gowns she was considering if they were to be worn in the hot weather. She sat on the bed and picked up the first gown and using a tiny pair of scissors, began to clip the threads that attached the long sleeves to its bodice. Elizabeth was some time at her task, and as she finished the second sleeve, she heard the sounds of someone running up the stairs.

"Lizzy?" cried Jane as she burst into the room. Elizabeth, alarmed, jumped up, scattering the contents of her sewing box on the floor. "Oh, I am so sorry," Jane said, stooping to pick up the fallen items.

"Jane! Whatever is the matter?" Elizabeth said, looking at her sister quizzically. Jane seemed abnormally agitated, even nervous. Elizabeth stooped to help Jane pick up the pins and spools of thread then took the box from her and led her to the bed. "What is it, Jane? Has Mr. Bingley--"

"Oh, no! It is not Mr. Bingley," she said with a blush. Jane had ridden home from Netherfield intent on preventing Elizabeth from leaving Hertfordshire, but now that she had Elizabeth before her, she knew not how to proceed. It was quite possible that Elizabeth would have no wish to speak with Mr. Darcy, or that she knew of his coming and had purposefully planned to leave. Elizabeth, for her part, grew more worried with each second of silence. Finally she blurted out her frustration and bade Jane to speak.

"What is it, then? Jane! Tell me something! You have me half scared out of my wits," Elizabeth cried.

"It is Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth was surprised by Jane's mention of his name, but was still in the dark. Jane took Elizabeth's hands and looked into her eyes meaningfully. "He is here, Lizzy. At Netherfield." Elizabeth paled. She withdrew her hands from her sister's and sat numbly.

"You must leave off your plans of going to London tomorrow, Lizzy," Jane asserted in her quiet yet insistent tone. Elizabeth glanced at her, then rose slowly and went to the window that faced west, toward Netherfield.

"Why should I, Jane?" Elizabeth said with a voice that betrayed her emotions. "He is here to see his friend, Mr. Bingley. Why should that concern me?" Jane rose and went to her sister. She once again took hold of Elizabeth's hands.

"He told me everything, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to pull away, but Jane held fast. "He told me of how he had felt contempt for our family, how he separated Charles and me, how much he loved you...and how you refused his proposal because of what he had done. Oh, Lizzy, why did you not tell me before?"

"To what end?" she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It could do nothing but add to your pain." Jane squeezed Elizabeth's hands tightly as confronted the frustration she had felt since she had spoken with Mr. Darcy.

Six

—

"I was not going to suggest that," the Colonel replied with a smirk.

"Well, what were you going to suggest, sir? You are the professional strategist here. Think of something!" Colonel Fitzwilliam disarmed her with a smile, then threw himself on the settee and tried to accommodate the lady's demand. Olivia continued to pace the Aubusson rug. Turning back toward the Colonel, she caught a glimpse of the basket he had deposited on a chair earlier. She kept her eyes on the basket as she sidled over to the Colonel, who was deep in thought. She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" The Colonel looked up. "What is in that basket?"

"Huh?" he replied. He had completely forgotten the gift he had planned to present to Olivia an hour earlier.

"Colonel? It is moving!" Olivia backed away a step or two, while the Colonel gaped at her. Then he caught her meaning and laughed. He got up, retrieved the basket, and drew back the cloth that concealed its contents. Immediately, a small head popped up and two big brown eyes fixed on Olivia's beaming face.

"I acquired him on my way south. I--." The Colonel paused and cleared his throat. "I thought that you might like a companion." Olivia stared at him blankly for a moment. Then she picked up the puppy and clutched it to her heart. The puppy nuzzled against her and she smiled.

"Whatever possessed you, Colonel?" she asked, charmed by his gift.

"Well, I have always wanted a Labrador, and besides, it reminded me of..." he replied sheepishly. Olivia held up the puppy and peered into its face. For her trouble, she received several licks upon her nose.

"Colonel, what is this?" Olivia held up the end of a well-chewed ribbon attached to the puppy's collar. Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes bulged as he swore softly and grabbed the puppy from Olivia and stared at it.

"Oh, dear lord," he cried, holding the puppy aloft and examining its nether end. Olivia smiled as she calmly reached into the basket and pulled out a small round box, slightly damp and chewed but intact.

"Is this what you are looking for?" The frantic Colonel looked at the box, sighed his relief, then absent-mindedly shoved the puppy under one arm as he reached for it and tried to make it more presentable. Olivia clucked at the Colonel and took the puppy from him. She sat on the settee and scratched the puppy behind his ears. She looked up at the Colonel expectantly. He stood frozen for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and laughed. He had completely forgotten about his gift to Olivia when he first saw her, and the speech he had so carefully rehearsed had now fled his mind as well. He sat next to Olivia and blushed as he tried to piece together his proposal.

"Miss Crenshaw, I do not have to tell you how much I have come to admire you over the past few months...." Sensing that the moment had come, Olivia was not about to be denied every detail.

"Do you not?" she replied archly. The Colonel was thrown by her comment.

"Do I not what?"

"Do you not have to tell me how much you have come to admire me over the past few months?"

"Miss Crenshaw..."

"Actually, I would be very interested to know," she said with a flutter of eyelashes that kept pace with the fluttering in his stomach.

"Well, I--."

"Every agonizing detail," she grinned, as the puppy slipped from her grasp and dove into the Colonel's lap. "I think he is rather fond of you."

"Well, we have had some good times together these past few weeks," the Colonel replied as the puppy curled up in his lap and promptly fell asleep.

"Perhaps you should keep him then," Olivia said as the Colonel absently stroked the puppy's soft fur. "I would not want to be the cause of a division between you two."

"I thought we might share him, Miss Crenshaw." Olivia blushed becomingly and had to force herself to speak.

"So, you have had him two weeks? Have you given him a name as yet?"

"I thought that you might like to name him, but my staff has taken to calling him the 'Little Colonel.'" Olivia found the name very funny, and the Colonel folded his arms and waited for her laughter to subside. Olivia's demeanor suddenly grew serious, but there was amusement in her tone.

"Now, Colonel, if we are going to share this dog, might I make so bold as to beg permission to call you by your Christian name? I cannot go around referring to both of you as 'Colonel.'"

"You might just rename the dog, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel retorted with equal humor as Olivia raised her brows, but he quickly added, "But I would be honored to have you call me Richard."

"Well, Richard," Olivia said, sliding closer to him on the settee and drawing her arm through his, "You were saying something about coming to admire me?" Colonel Fitzwilliam ducked his head sheepishly, then took her hand and looked into her eyes.

"I found the Little Colonel my first night on the road," Olivia started to interrupt, but the earnest look in the Colonel's eye stilled her tongue. "He had been abandoned, or lost, and he was cold, wet, and frightened. I took him in. He sort of reminded me of you...Not that you look anything like a sorry, wet, frightened puppy," he amended. Olivia laughed at the Colonel's discomposure. "But you do both have lovely brown eyes and an irresistible appeal," Colonel Fitzwilliam continued with a wink, and Olivia felt her heart melt. "As we traveled together, the Colonel and I, I decided that he might make a good companion for you while I was away from...I know that a Labrador retriever is hardly a fashionable lady's dog, but you are not a lady of fashion--I mean--. Miss Crenshaw, you have an amazing capacity to distort every reasonable thought in my head," he said, as he deposited the Little Colonel in Olivia's lap and retreated to the relative safety of the window. He took a deep breath and began anew.

"I actually had this silly, romantic notion of offering you two companions today," the Colonel continued, his eyes on the rug before him. "The Little Colonel and...." There was a knock on the door which both Olivia and the Colonel ignored as it opened to admit an unannounced visitor.

"...And the big Colonel?" Olivia quipped. But the Colonel did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the lady who stood in the doorway. Olivia followed his gaze.

"Lizzy!" she exclaimed, rising abruptly and depositing the sleeping dog on the floor. "You were not expected until tomorrow!"

• • •

Mr. Darcy went down to dinner reluctantly. He was not eager to be in company, but having brought his discomfort upon himself, he knew that he must ride it out. As Mr. Darcy entered the dining room he immediately noted the absence of the Miss Bennets, and the import of that fact only added to his guilt. Mr. Bingley, who had gone to Mr. Darcy's room with the express purpose of delivering Jane's message, had completely forgotten about it when he saw his friend's dejected face. As they talked, Mr. Bingley began to understand why Jane had rushed away, but he had never mentioned it aloud to Mr. Darcy.

"It seems that we a few short this evening, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said with a smug smile. "Our dear Jane found something terribly important to attend to at Longbourn," she added with a significant look. Mr. Darcy glared at her stonily, then took his seat next to his friend.

"Oh, I must apologize, Darcy. I completely forgot to mention it to you earlier." Mr. Bingley said, casting his own glare at his sibling. "Jane wanted me to tell you that she could not stay to dinner; there was an important matter at Longbourn that demanded her immediate attention," he added, with his own significant look. "She...." Mr. Bingley thought better of revealing Jane's entire message before his sister Caroline, so he quickly amended his statement. "She looks forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Mr. Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgment, but rather than taking his friend's message literally, he concluded that Jane planned on bringing Elizabeth to Netherfield. He sighed heavily and began to disturb the neat pile of chives floating on his consommé.

So, it is to be tomorrow, is it? I had hoped for a few more days. But Elizabeth will already know that I am in the neighborhood. I suppose there is no reason to delay the inevitable....

Miss Bingley observed Mr. Darcy carefully. She could not be as at ease with him as she had thought herself previously. Mr. Darcy had been acting strangely since his return to London the past month. Now he appeared to be out of sorts with everyone, save her brother, Charles. Miss Bingley concluded that something must have happened in Kent to cause his sour mood. Whatever it was, she couldn't wait to see Miss Eliza Bennet become the object of Mr. Darcy's wrath. Yes, that would serve my purposes very well, she thought.

"I wonder if Miss Eliza Bennet will grace us with an appearance soon," she baited her brooding dinner companion. Her comment had the desired effect; she ignored her brother's apoplectic sputter and basked in Mr. Darcy's glower. Yes, she thought, as she delicately cut into her veal chop, I daresay Miss Bennet will no longer be an impediment when he gets through with her.

• • •

Elizabeth stood frozen in the doorway. It was obvious to her that she had interrupted a tete a tete between Olivia and Colonel Fitzwilliam, although he was standing some eight feet away from her, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Elizabeth blushed and would have withdrawn, but Olivia spoke again.

"Do come in Lizzy... You remember the Colonel, of course?" Olivia said awkwardly. Elizabeth curtseyed and the Colonel managed a curt bow. He wondered whether Elizabeth's apparent flight from Hertfordshire was the result of, or precluded, an interview with his cousin. Olivia bade her friend to sit down and joined Elizabeth on the settee.

"How do you come to be here early, Lizzy? I have not even sent the carriage off," Olivia asked, concern evident in her voice. Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead she glanced at the Colonel, who immediately took the hint and started to take his leave. Olivia met the Colonel at the door. She reached out and touched his arm. Elizabeth walked to the place recently vacated by the Colonel and looked out the window to give the couple a moment's privacy.

"I am sorry, Richard," Olivia said in a low voice, her eyes communicating all the love she felt for him at that moment. She started to say more, but Colonel Fitzwilliam put a finger to her lips. He kissed the tip of her nose and pressed the little box into her hand. The door closed behind him, and as if to echo Olivia's sadness, the Little Colonel sat by the door and whimpered.

"And who might this be?" asked Elizabeth, who had turned around as soon as she heard the door close. She scooped up the puppy, which immediately applied his tongue to her face.

"That," smiled Olivia, "Is a young protégé of the Colonel's." Olivia walked over to the settee and threw herself into it. Elizabeth put the dog down and joined her.

"I am sorry for bursting in unannounced like that," Elizabeth said. "Your father assured me that--."

"Oh, it is all right, Lizzy," Olivia said in a tone that made it obvious to her that it was not.

"Did I interrupt something important?"

"Only the most important moment of my life thus far," Olivia replied airily. She placed the box on the table and sighed. Elizabeth, curious, picked it up.

"What is this?"

"I do not know, and I will not know until the Colonel returns. It was his gift to me, along with the Little Colonel there, and him--."

"The Little Colonel? That is a strange name for a dog," laughed Elizabeth. Olivia, however, was in poor humor. She was both concerned for her friend and frustrated that the Colonel had left again without proposing. She tried not to take it out on Elizabeth, but there was an edge to her voice as she repeated her original question.

"What are you doing here a day early? And just how did you get here?" Elizabeth bowed her head, and smiled mischievously.

"I ran away from home, Livy."

"You did what?" Olivia stared at her friend incredulously.

"I ran away. I packed a few things in a bag, casually walked into Meryton and caught the post. I had a little money saved up, and father had given me a sum to tide me over while I am in town. I just left a day earlier than I planned." Olivia, who had been slumped rather ungraciously on the settee, sat up.

"Whatever for?" Tomorrow you could have ridden in comfort and safety and in my own carriage at no cost!" She looked her friend in the eye. "What has happened, Lizzy?"

"Nothing has happened," she replied, slightly averting her gaze. "I just meant to see to it that nothing did."

"You are trying to avoid Mr. Darcy!" Olivia accused.

"How did you know that--of course, your Colonel told you of his visit to Mr. Bingley." Elizabeth sighed. "Yes. I am afraid I am not ready to face him just yet."

"Why not? You have had nearly several weeks to prepare for this...."

"I was preparing myself to face him at Jane's wedding, not before."

"What difference does it make?" Olivia grew impatient; she could now empathize with the Colonel's frustration at the muddled state of things. Elizabeth raised her hands to her face, and Olivia grew ashamed of herself. She stood and picked up the box.

"I do apologize, Lizzy. It is not every day that a man is on the verge of proposing marriage to me." Elizabeth rose and hugged her friend.

"...And someone bursts in and ruins it? I am so sorry, Livy." The two ladies hugged for a moment, their eyes moist with tears. They pulled away and began laughing at themselves.

"Well, we are a fine pair," Elizabeth said, wiping the corner of an eye. "One desperately awaiting a proposal of marriage and one desperately running from one." Olivia looked deeply into Elizabeth's eyes.

"Do you think Mr. Darcy will propose again?"

"I...I hope he will. I am just not certain that I will be able to accept him. That is why I came away from Hertfordshire. I cannot face him until I know."

• • •

Elizabeth's parents were not left frantic and wondering. Elizabeth had left a note on her father's desk in his library, and Mr. Bennet knew his Lizzy well enough not to panic. He sent an express to Mr. Crenshaw begging for a confirmation of her safe arrival. Mr. Bennet was worried about his favorite daughter. She had not been herself since the spring, when she returned home from her visit to the Collins'. He had attributed her mood to the unpleasant experience of living for six weeks under the same roof with Mr. Collins, and the revelations of a girl who had seen her close friend married and comfortably settled with no similar prospects for herself. But it was unlike Elizabeth to behave irresponsibly, especially since she had already planned to leave for London not twenty four hours later than the time she had run off. He had asked Mr. Crenshaw to have Elizabeth write to him, but Mr. Bennet felt certain that she would write to him as soon as she reached London, even without Mr. Crenshaw's prodding.

Mrs. Bennet saw Elizabeth's disappearance as nothing short of a scandal. Her sisters Catherine and Lydia were rather inclined to see it as an adventure. Lydia began to spin plans of her own flight from the tedium of Hertfordshire until her parents, in a rare display of similar thought, effectively communicated to her that she would be disowned outright at the first sign of any such attempt.

"It is bad enough that I shall have one daughter ruined; how shall I be able to show my face if I lose two daughters?" Her eldest daughter Jane and Mary, her third born, reminded their mother that Elizabeth was not on the path to ruin, but on the path to the home of a well-bred and fairly wealthy gentleman. "Well then, perhaps he will give a ball in Lizzy's honor, and he will introduce her to a wealthy young man of four or five thousand a year. I would not be displeased if she were to come home engaged, like you, Jane dear."

Jane knew that her sister's best prospect for marriage was currently residing three miles away in Hertfordshire. She retired to her chambers early and lay awake half the night worrying about both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. As early as possible the next morning, she made her way to Netherfield. She reached the great house as everyone was enjoying breakfast. Jane was shown into the morning room. The men rose to welcome her and Mr. Bingley invited Jane to partake of the meal. She declined, saying that she would not be staying and asked to speak with Mr. Bingley privately. He escorted her to the library to talk.

"What is it, my love?" he asked, drawing her to a chair. "You look pale. Is something wrong?"

"It is Lizzy. I am afraid--," she paused, realizing that she had begun in the middle. "When I left you yesterday afternoon, I went home to see Lizzy. You see she had been invited to visit a friend in London. I wanted to persuade her to stay, or at least to postpone her departure." Jane rose and fidgeted with a small East Indian artifact as she spoke. "After speaking with both Mr. Darcy and Lizzy yesterday I knew that they still loved each other. They just do not realize it--or at least Lizzy does not, Charles. I thought that, perhaps, if I could bring the two of them together...." Mr. Bingley nodded.

"I admit I tried to convince Darcy to go to Longbourn, myself. He said he was not ready."

"Lizzy said pretty much the same thing. Oh, Charles! I am afraid that I have ruined everything. Instead of bringing them together I have scared Lizzy away. She was meant to leave this morning. Olivia Crenshaw had arranged for her carriage to come for her, but instead Lizzy fled to London on the afternoon post chaise." Mr. Bingley was slightly shocked, but he was more concerned for his future sister's safety than her degrading mode of travel.

"And are you certain that she has gone to the Crenshaws?" Jane shot him a look, but realized that it was a reasonable question.

"Yes. Lizzy left a note. Father sent an express to Mr. Crenshaw and has already received word of her safe arrival." Mr. Bingley sighed in relief, and Jane sought the comfort of his embrace.

"Well, at least she is safe. Now the only thing is: what do we tell Darcy?" Mr. Bingley murmured into Jane's hair. Jane looked into his eyes.

"You will have to do that alone, I am afraid. Miss Crenshaw's coach will be arriving at Longbourn any minute now, and I mean to go to Lizzy in London."

• • •

In the morning room, Miss Bingley buttered her toast with an artful smile on her face. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who seemed to be lost in thought.

"It looks as though there is not going to be a wedding after all," Miss Bingley said, satisfied by the certain knowledge that should Jane Bennet break her engagement to her brother, Mr. Darcy would have nothing to do with any other Bennet sister.

"Why do you say so?" Mr. Darcy asked, his reverie broken.

"Jane did not look at all happy when she came in just now." Miss Bingley smiled cunningly. "Whatever you said to her yesterday must have upset her a great deal."

"What I said to her yesterday was that I was responsible for four of the most miserable months of her life. I confessed to having separated her and Bingley, and I humbly begged her forgiveness for it," Mr. Darcy stated evenly, although his voice tightened as he spoke. "Consider yourself fortunate, Miss Bingley, that I did not include your name in my confession to Miss Bennet or your brother."

"Well, perhaps she thought better of marrying Charles, anyway," Miss Bingley countered, ignoring his implied threat. "After all, if his best friend disapproves--." Mr. Darcy rose to his feet and threw down his napkin.

"Miss Bingley, I do approve of your brother and Miss Bennet's marriage. Nothing would please me more than to stand at Charles' side as they take their vows, if only to see the look on your face afterward." This was said with a deadly calm that made Miss Bingley's blood run cold. Mr. Darcy strode from the room, where he could not prevent overhearing Jane and Mr. Bingley as they came his way from the opposite wing.

"But Jane, do you have to go to London today? I am sure that Miss Elizabeth is quite safe...." Jane froze in her tracks as her eyes met Mr. Darcy's. Mr. Bingley bumped into Jane and he, too, froze. Mr. Darcy looked at each of them in turn.

"Mr. Darcy," Jane said with a curtsey. "I am afraid that I must leave for London immediately," she glanced at Mr. Bingley, "To see to my sister. I am sorry that we will not be able to spend time together today, but I hope," Jane paused for effect, "I hope to be able to return shortly." Jane curtseyed once more and headed for the door, a tiny smile on her face. Mr. Bingley made as if to follow her, but Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm.

"What has happened to Elizabeth?" Mr. Bingley, taking Jane's cue, played his role to the hilt.

"I do not know. Neither of us will know until Jane arrives in London. Jane has promised to send word...." But Mr. Darcy had already run after Jane, who was being helped onto the back of her mare.

"Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!" cried the breathless man. "You must tell me. What has happened to your sister?" Jane tried to look troubled.

"I cannot say exactly. She was supposed to leave for London this morning for a planned visit to Olivia Crenshaw, but she disappeared from Longbourn yesterday afternoon."

Mr. Darcy went pale. He turned and ran into the house. Jane worried that she had gone too far, then decided it was for the best. Mr. Darcy abruptly bolted out of the house again. He shouted something to a stable hand and then approached Jane once more, who sat on her mount, confused by Mr. Darcy's erratic behavior. Mr. Bingley had followed Mr. Darcy out of the house and was equally perplexed.

"Miss Bennet, if you wish to go to London, may I offer you the use of my carriage?" Mr. Darcy asked excitedly.

"You are very kind, sir, but I am going to London in the carriage that Miss Crenshaw sent to transport Lizzy." Mr. Darcy nodded absentmindedly. Then he bowed and rushed back into the house, very nearly colliding with Miss Bingley.

• • •

"I think I will go and visit my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner this morning, Elizabeth said over breakfast. "That way if your Colonel Fitzwilliam returns," she smiled at Olivia, who blushed and made a face that her father did not see.

"Oh? Does the Colonel plan on coming by today? I suppose it is to be expected...I should get used to it," Mr. Crenshaw said with a wink to his daughter. Edward, whose two week leave had just begun, could not contain his curiosity.

"Has the Colonel proposed yet?" Mr. Crenshaw gave him a look of warning. "And how come the Little Colonel is here?"

"The Little Colonel--we do have to find another name for that dog--is here because he was the Colonel's gift to me," Olivia said, smiling down at the dog which was at that moment at her foot consuming a sausage.

"Really? I would have thought that he could afford a ring," Edward retorted, and both Olivia and Elizabeth made faces at him.

Mr. Crenshaw reminded Elizabeth to write to her father before she left, and she retired to his study for writing things. She hoped that Olivia's coachman would return soon with her luggage. She had slept in Olivia's nightgown, and was struggling to maintain her dignity in one of Olivia's morning dresses. Elizabeth hoped to retrieve a dress she thought she had left at the Gardiner's. That way, she would be able to breathe normally until her trunk arrived. Later that morning she was received by her surprised aunt, who sternly scolded her for her foolish behavior. Elizabeth accepted the scolding she knew she deserved, and in turn she imparted the entire tale of her relationship with Mr. Darcy.

"And now he is come to Hertfordshire, and I do not know how to face him again. I said such ugly, hateful things to him. He must despise me so," Elizabeth said through her tears.

"That is not what Jane told you. Why do you doubt her?" Mrs. Gardiner said in a soothing tone.

"I do not--I simply cannot believe it." She raised her head from where it lay in her aunt's lap. "It seems too good to be true. And if it is true...I do not know that I am equal to his love."

"Oh tush, child! I never heard such nonsense." Mrs. Gardiner said, handing Elizabeth a second handkerchief.

"I did not know I loved Mr. Darcy until after I thought I had lost him forever. It may all be some sick fantasy of mine, pining for what is no longer within my reach. I am afraid that what I feel for Mr. Darcy is not what it ought to be. His feelings for me are so intense...I--." Mrs. Gardiner drew her niece close and hugged her tightly.

"Nonsense," she repeated.

• • •

The Colonel was admitted to Olivia's presence by Edward, who seemed reluctant to leave the couple alone. Olivia glared at her brother significantly, but it was the Colonel's commanding demeanor that ultimately made him withdraw. Olivia put aside her sewing and the Colonel joined her on the settee. The Little Colonel immediately joined the couple, curling up in the Colonel's lap.

"What has become of Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked.

"She has gone to visit her aunt," Olivia replied with a blush. "She was most embarrassed by her untimely entrance yesterday and was determined not to repeat it."

"Good," Colonel Fitzwilliam declared, relaxing a bit. "We can discuss her problems in a moment. But first, you and I have some unfinished business." He rose and went to the table where the small box sat. He retrieved the box and opened it, revealing a double strand of pearls. The Colonel held it up before Olivia and said simply, "May I?" She tilted her head forward and the Colonel clasped the pearls around her neck.

"I know it is traditional to offer a ring, but my grandmother made me promise to give these to the lady I marry. You will marry me?" Olivia made a face.

"Is this your idea of a proposal?" she asked tentatively. It was not what she expected, but if this was as good as it was going to be, she was not about to pass up her opportunity.

"Far from it," the Colonel laughed. "But on two occasions I came here ready to propose and failed utterly. I thought I should secure a commitment from you right off, before anything else befell us," the Colonel grinned. "Then I would be more than happy to launch into raptures about the beauty of your hair, the wonderful curve of your throat, the--." Mr. Crenshaw and Edward entered the room at that precise moment. "See?" the Colonel said with a jerk of his head as he picked up the puppy and rose to greet his future father in law.

"Look at my engagement gift, father," Olivia said, as her eyes met the Colonel's. He smiled at her and accepted the congratulations of his future father and brother in law. Olivia went to the mirror above the mantle and peered at the elegant necklace with the diamond-encrusted clasp. She turned around and smiled at the Colonel, the two of them momentarily oblivious to the activity around them. After a second, they rejoined the conversation and began to discuss their future.

• • •

Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth found the dress they were seeking in the closet of the guestroom, and Mrs. Gardiner went to the attic and found another dress that could be let out slightly to fit Elizabeth, just in case. They repaired to Mrs. Gardiner's room, where good light and a steady breeze could be found. As they sat at their work, a noise was heard in the hallway. A moment later, Jane was announced. Both women were surprised to see her.

"Have you run away as well? You were not expected here for another week," Mrs. Gardiner said as she kissed Jane. But Jane's eyes were fixed on Elizabeth, and Elizabeth rose and blushed as Jane responded to her aunt's question.

"I thought I would come today, Aunt, since there was an empty carriage at my disposal," she said, not taking her eyes off of her sibling. Mrs. Gardiner went to see about arrangements for Jane, tactfully leaving the two ladies to talk.

"Jane, what are you doing here?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. She feared that Jane and Mr. Bingley had gotten into some sort of quarrel. But Jane sat on the edge of the bed and would not be distracted from her own agenda.

"I might ask the same of you, Lizzy," she said defiantly. Elizabeth was slightly amused by Jane's recently developed assertiveness, but she attempted to disarm her nonetheless.

"I am here visiting my aunt. Olivia was to receive a special visitor this morning and I wanted to allow her some privacy..."

"You know full well what I mean, Lizzy," Jane snapped, eyes aflame.

"I know nothing of the kind. You asked me to stay and see Mr. Darcy and I told you that I would think about it. I decided to make my trip to London as planned."

"As planned? As I recall, you had no plans to go slipping off in the dark of night!"

"Oh, Jane, do not be melodramatic! I left in broad daylight in the early afternoon!"

"Do not be coy, Lizzy!'

"Jane! What has got into you? If you are so concerned about Mr. Darcy, you can rest assured that I will speak to him upon my return to Hertfordshire."

"You can rest assured that Mr. Darcy will be in London before nightfall. He knows that you are in town, Lizzy."

"You did not--you could not! Jane," Elizabeth cried. "What have you done?"

"I have done nothing. I simply told Charles that you had gone to London unexpectedly. Mr. Darcy overheard our conversation. He loves you, Lizzy. If you will not see him in Hertfordshire, he will come to London to see you." Elizabeth sat on the bed. She felt faint and numb. An hour earlier she had felt lighthearted and free; now she was trapped. Mr. Darcy had the resources to track her to the ends of the earth. And he had the tenacity to pursue her: Was this love or just an obsession?

Mr. Darcy had, in fact, arrived in London well before Jane. Since she had refused his offer of a carriage, he had ridden on horseback to save time and, to the surprise of his household staff, he appeared at his townhouse before noon. Now he sat in his chambers pondering the very same question as Elizabeth. Had he gone too far? Perhaps he should have waited for her in Hertfordshire. How would Elizabeth react if she knew he had followed her to London like a desperate man?

• • •

Since Jane had intended to come to London in July with her mother to purchase wedding clothes, it was decided that Jane should remain in town and make her purchases early. Mr. Gardiner sent an express to Longbourn with that news and Jane silently prayed that her mother would not choose to drop everything and join her in London. There was enough to worry about with Elizabeth--their mother's presence would only complicate things. Jane asked Mr. Gardiner to include a line in his express to make certain that Mr. Bingley was informed of her change in plans. That taken care of, she turned her attention to Elizabeth's problem.

"Aunt Gardiner," Jane said after Elizabeth returned to the Crenshaw's home, "I am afraid this is all my fault. I am afraid that I frightened Lizzy into leaving Hertfordshire by insisting that she go and speak to Mr. Darcy."

"Lizzy has never been bullied into anything in her life, least of all by you, dear," Mrs. Gardiner laughed. "She has always acted according to her own judgment, though in this case I am not at all certain that she knows what she is doing."

"We have to do something, Aunt," Jane said worriedly. "Two people so much in love should be together."

"Even if one of those people very nearly ruined your chance of happiness with Mr. Bingley?"

"I have forgiven Mr. Darcy. I do not believe he acted out of malice. And even if I did, if Lizzy truly loved him...I would like to think that I would not be so cruel as to begrudge her what was denied me." Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece indulgently.

"Lizzy is right about you," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "You are too good."

• • •

When Elizabeth reached the Crenshaw's home, she immediately set about unpacking the trunk that had arrived on Olivia's carriage. Olivia popped her head in through the open door. She held out the battered box that she had shown Elizabeth a day earlier.

"Would you like to know what this contains?" she asked coyly. Elizabeth looked up from her task and spying the box, eagerly came forward.

"Yes, please!" she grinned. Olivia made a display of opening the box, withdrawing the velvet pouch and laying the precious pearls in Elizabeth's hands.

"They are beautiful, Livy! I have never held a strand of pearls before."

"They make an unusual engagement gift, do they not?" Olivia said airily, anticipating Elizabeth's reaction. She was not disappointed.

"Engaged! Colonel Fitzwilliam finally proposed?" Olivia showed her a wry smile.

"Well, suffice to say we are engaged." Elizabeth frowned, then pressed Olivia for details.

"Livy, I do not believe one word of what you say!"

"It is true. The Colonel told me that his grandmother left the pearls to him with strict instructions that he was to give them to the lady that he married (otherwise, I suppose, they might have ended up in the hands of some opportunistic showgirl or something). Anyway, the Colonel placed them around my neck and said, 'You will marry me, will you not?' He promised to regale me with the two speeches he wrote earlier and failed to deliver and to devote hours to rhapsodizing on my perfection at another time," Olivia laughed, with a particularly inept imitation of the Colonel's voice.

"And you accepted such a proposal?" Elizabeth managed through her laughter.

"Yes, I did," Olivia said, growing serious. "I am afraid I have fallen hopelessly in love with the man, and there is no way he could have made his proposal that would have prevented me from accepting." Elizabeth got a faraway look in her eye and Olivia, deciding that it was too soon to broach the subject of Mr. Darcy, left Elizabeth to her unpacking.

• • •

As Mr. Darcy made his way downstairs, Mr. Harris, the butler, informed him that Colonel Fitzwilliam was in his study. Surprised, to say the least, Mr. Darcy immediately sought out his cousin. He found the Colonel seated at his desk.

"Fitzwilliam! What on earth are you doing here?" The Colonel glanced up briefly and then continued writing.

"I am writing a letter to Mama," he said brightly.

"You came here to write a letter?" Mr. Darcy was still perplexed.

"I came here to see you, cousin," the Colonel replied as he applied his seal to the hot wax on the missive.

"How did you know I was in town? I only arrived a couple of hours ago," Mr. Darcy asked as the Colonel abandoned the desk and slipped into an armchair. Mr. Darcy poured out two glasses of port and joined him.

"I saw Miss Elizabeth Bennet yesterday." Mr. Darcy immediately tensed. "I do not know whether or not you saw her in Hertfordshire, but either way, it was an even bet that you would follow her to town."

"How did she appear? Was she all right?" Mr. Darcy asked anxiously.

"She was fine, a bit tired perhaps from the journey." He observed Mr. Darcy closely. "What did happen in Hertfordshire?"

"Nothing," Mr. Darcy replied, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "I never even saw her. I arrived at Netherfield two days ago and spoke with Jane Bennet--."

"About her sister?" the Colonel interjected.

"No, at least not by design. Miss Bennet greeted me with all the warmth and sincerity of an old friend. I felt so guilty about deceiving her I thought it only fair that she know the truth about my interference in the matter of her and Bingley."

"How did she take the news?"

"She took it better than I had any right to expect. She thought that I was trying to protect my friend." Mr. Darcy paused, uncomfortably, and then pressed on. "She asked about Elizabeth and I told her that Elizabeth knew of my role in separating her and Bingley. She left Netherfield soon after our conversation, and when next I saw her this morning, she informed me that Elizabeth had disappeared from Longbourn."

"Olivia had invited her for a visit. She simply left Hertfordshire a day earlier than planned," the Colonel said, trying to ease his cousin's anxiety.

"Yes, her sister did say that. And yet--." Darcy looked up abruptly. "Since when is Miss Crenshaw 'Olivia' to you, Fitzwilliam. Has something happened?" He could not suppress a smirk as the Colonel blushed slightly.

"Olivia and I are to be married," the Colonel said, feeling himself blush and feeling foolish for blushing. Mr. Darcy's face brightened for the first time in weeks.

"Fitzwilliam! You never told me you were contemplating marriage!"

"Are you not the cousin who has been counseling me to marry Miss Crenshaw for the past four months? I may be slow, cousin, but I know a good idea when I hear one," the Colonel laughed. Mr. Darcy poured out more port and toasted the Colonel.

"This calls for a celebration! I will host a dinner for the two of you. It is official, I take it?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"The banns have not been published and we have not set a date or ordered white soup, or whatever it is that engaged couples do. But I have given her grandmother's pearls." Mr. Darcy emitted a low whistle. He clapped his cousin on the back and went to his desk to prepare a guest list.

"Of course, we shall have to invite all the Crenshaws," Mr. Darcy began.

"And Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked innocently. Mr. Darcy stared blankly. "She is their houseguest, after all, Darcy." Mr. Darcy laid down his pen and turned his gaze to the window.

"Fitzwilliam, I believe I made a mistake in coming to London," he said as he stared out over the riot of lush blooms in the garden below. The intoxicating scent of lavender wafted up to him, instantly bringing back memories.... "I acted impulsively. My following her here can only damage my cause." The Colonel was inclined to agree with his cousin but resolved to hold his tongue. He observed Mr. Darcy closely. His looks had improved a good deal since he had last seen him in Derbyshire. Everything about him spoke of the Darcy of old, but for the pained look in his eye. The Colonel sighed once more. He was out of answers. He and Olivia had briefly spoken of ways to bring the two together but this latest development was beyond his ken.

"Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy asked suddenly, "How did you court Miss Crenshaw? How did you make her love you?" The Colonel could not prevent himself from laughing at the question.

"I am no expert on courtship, cousin. I have yet to make Miss Crenshaw a proper proposal." Mr. Darcy was all confusion.

"I thought that you said--."

"Let us leave that explanation for another time," the Colonel urged, "And address the problem at hand." He stood and paced a bit, scratching at his head, trying to think of how to begin. "I hope the Little Colonel does not have fleas," the Colonel said absently, as he scratched his neck.

"What?" asked Mr. Darcy. The Colonel paused from his scratching and looked up.

"It was nothing important." Colonel Fitzwilliam ruminated for a moment. "I did have the advantage of falling in love with a woman who does not despise me..." he offered sheepishly. Mr. Darcy smirked at his cousin, but had to concede that to be an advantage.

"I suppose it would not hurt to choose as the object of one's affections a woman not predisposed to resent one's very existence,"" Mr. Darcy said sarcastically.

"You know, Darce, having had the opportunity to observe the two of you together in Kent, I must say that the two of you are very much alike."

"You are correct, Fitzwilliam. I am disposed to despise myself as well," Mr. Darcy retorted. "Now, have you anything of use to offer?"

"I am afraid not, cousin. All I can do is advise patience," said the Colonel, half expecting Mr. Darcy to reject the suggestion outright. His cousin, however, slumped in his chair, seemingly lost in thought. "Will you return to Hertfordshire?" Mr. Darcy glanced up.

"I do not think so. Not just yet, anyway." He laughed ruefully. "I am afraid Bingley will not let me pass through the front gate again until I have made my peace with Elizabeth Bennet. No. I will remain here awhile. I have some thinking to do, and I do want to celebrate your engagement. How are your parents taking the news?"

"I will know once Mama responds to my letter. It only happened this morning, Darcy." Mr. Darcy looked surprised. The Colonel picked up his things, preparing to take his leave. He clapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder as he passed and Mr. Darcy mumbled something in farewell. As the Colonel opened the door of the study, his cousin called him back.

"Fitz?" The Colonel turned. "Who is the 'Little Colonel'?" The Colonel laughed and headed out the door.

"It is part of that long story I will have to tell you some other time," he called over his shoulder as he left.

• • •

The morning sun shone brightly as Olivia, Elizabeth, and Jane met outside Madame Jalabert's shop. Mrs. Gardiner had stopped in at Mr. Ferber's shop up the street to pick up her husband's newly repaired watch. The three younger ladies were too excited to wait for her and entered the shop amid giggles and squeals. Madame Jalabert greeted the ladies and congratulated Jane on her forthcoming nuptials.

"I am not the only one soon to be a bride, Madame," Jane said with a blush. "I have learned just this morning that Miss Crenshaw is also engaged."

"Ah! Then we shall have two brides to ply our humble arts for." Madame Jalabert kissed the cheeks of both brides, then turned to Elizabeth.

"And when shall some lucky young man claim your heart?" One look at Elizabeth's eyes made her regret her innocent question. Elizabeth immediately fled the shop in tears, nearly colliding with her aunt.

"Lizzy, dear! What has happened?" Mrs. Gardiner asked as she embraced the girl.

"Oh, it is nothing, Aunt. It was silly of me, I..." Elizabeth paused to dab at her eyes. Madame Jalabert, who had been given a hasty explanation by Jane and Olivia, came out of her shop to apologize.

"I am so sorry, mademoiselle. I did not mean to upset you." She embraced Elizabeth soothingly.

"Oh, you need not apologize. It was nothing, really. I have just been so..." Elizabeth could not think of words to explain her emotional state of late. The ladies soon re-entered the shop and returned to the task at hand. Elizabeth's misery was soon forgotten as she helped Jane and Olivia select fabrics and discuss options. Mrs. Gardiner and Madame Jalabert left them to amuse themselves and chatted as the three ladies poured over stacks of catalogues and magazines. Eventually, a few decisions were made, and the ladies decided to go to lunch. Mrs. Gardiner treated them to luncheon at a fine establishment near a little park, where wedding plans continued to be the main topic of conversation. The fact that Olivia and the Colonel had yet to establish a date for their wedding was no impediment to the flow of conversation. Elizabeth grew quiet once more, and Mrs. Gardiner began to grow worried about her. She suggested to the ladies that they all take a walk in the park, but Jane and Olivia pleaded exhaustion from the morning's exertions. They remained behind in the café with a second cup of tea, therefore, while Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth crossed the street and entered the park.

"You have held up remarkably well, Lizzy, considering what you have been through today," Mrs. Gardiner said as the two ladies made their way down a narrow path to a tiny pond where a pair of ducks was holding court. Elizabeth bent down to throw the remains of her sandwich to the ducks as she replied.

"Aunt Gardiner, I could hardly call bursting into tears and fleeing into the street like a madwoman holding up well," she laughed.

"Oh, I was not referring to that. I was referring to your putting up with those two," her aunt said with a jerk of her head towards the café. "Madame Jalabert and I considered fleeing into the street like madwomen ourselves at one point! I have not heard giggling like that since you and Jane were little girls and I caught the two of you playing in my clothes." Both ladies laughed at the thought as they linked arms and walked on.

A short distance away, a man stood observing the pair. He could not believe that he had been so fortunate as to witness what had appeared, like a beautiful apparition, before his eyes. Mr. Darcy's first instinct was to follow, but he forced himself to take a seat on a nearby bench. He sat for several moments with his eyes closed, savoring the memory of Elizabeth, standing not a dozen feet away, and laughing, completely at ease with her companion. He had not fully trusted his cousin's assessment. Now he had proof that she was all right. His Elizabeth was alive and well. The import of those words hit Mr. Darcy like a stone. She is well and happy because she thinks me fifty miles away. He sighed heavily, then, and rose to return to his home.

• • •

Back at the café, Olivia grabbed Jane's hand as soon as the other two in their party were out of the door.

"You must tell me all that happened in Hertfordshire," she demanded eagerly.

"Did Lizzy tell you nothing?" Jane was surprised. She knew that her sister confided in Olivia when she could trust no other, even herself. "Mr. Darcy came into Hertfordshire a few days ago. I saw him just after he arrived at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley's estate. We had a chance to talk...he asked to speak with me about an important matter. Olivia, he told me the most dreadful tale!"

"About you and Mr. Bingley?" Jane's mouth fell open.

"You knew of this?"

"Lizzy told me of it when she came to London in the spring. She did not want to upset you, especially since everything worked out in the end..." Jane sat back, a bit put out. It took a squeeze of her hand to bring her back to Olivia's question.

"Mr. Darcy told me about his interference in our courtship and begged my forgiveness. He also told me that Lizzy knew of it--."

"..And thus refused to marry him," Olivia finished the sentence with a hint of impatience. "What happened then?" Jane bowed her head.

"I was so moved by Mr. Darcy's speech that I immediately forgave him, although I do not know that I told him so. I suddenly remembered that Lizzy was back at Longbourn packing for her trip to London, and I rushed home to persuade her to stay in Hertfordshire. I could tell from speaking with Mr. Darcy that he is very much in love with her, and although she has not spoken of him since I returned to Longbourn, I know that she still thinks of him." Jane shrugged. "I only wanted to help them. But it seems that I was responsible for this whole muddle."

"Jane," Olivia said slowly, for her patience was beginning to wear thin, "You are not making yourself clear. In what way are you responsible?" Jane's look was one of incredulity.

"Do you not see? It was my fault that Lizzy ran away! I begged her to go to Netherfield and see Mr. Darcy. Had I not done so, she probably--."

"She would probably have come to me as she originally planned, Jane. Do not blame yourself." Jane shook her head. "Is there more?"

"I let Mr. Darcy know that Lizzy had run off. I went to Netherfield to let Charles--Mr. Bingley--know that I was going to London, and Mr. Darcy overheard." Jane fixed her eyes upon the hand that Olivia held tightly. "I do not know what I was thinking, Livy. I allowed Mr. Darcy to assume more than had actually happened. I am certain that Mr. Darcy followed me to London." Olivia let the hand loose and sat back in her chair. She did not know whether to laugh or cry at this turn of events.

"Does Lizzy know about this?" Jane nodded.

"I made a point of telling her so as soon as I reached Gracechurch Street." The chime over the door of the café sounded at that moment, signaling the return of Mrs. Gardiner and her niece. Olivia looked at Jane, and the two ladies rose and joined their friends.

Seven

—

"Just how long do you expect us to stay in town?" Miss Bingley asked after a minute.

"As I told you before, Jane will be in town only for a few weeks, and I mean to remain in town as long as she is there. I also told you that you were welcome to remain behind at Netherfield," he said through gritted teeth.

"With those provincial savages? Pah!" Miss Bingley eventually quieted, and her brother closed his eyes. "Do you think we will see Mr. Darcy this evening?" Miss Bingley suddenly asked.

"The only person I care to see this evening is the future Mrs. Bingley. By the bye, we have an invitation to dine with her aunt and uncle tonight," Mr. Bingley replied without opening his eyes.

"In Cheapside?" Miss Bingley spat distastefully. "I do not want to be seen in that neighborhood."

"Caroline, you know as well as I do that the Gardiners do not live in Cheapside, and you certainly had no qualms about visiting the Gardiners when you hoped to prevent me from proposing to Jane," Mr. Bingley said, his eyes wide open and glaring at his sister. Miss Bingley immediately became quiet again and did not utter another word until the carriage entered London.

"Charles, do you think we could stop in _____ Street. I have nothing appropriate to wear to the Gardiner's tonight," Miss Bingley said beseechingly. Mr. Bingley cast a wary glance at his sister.

"I find that amazingly difficult to believe, Caroline." Miss Bingley pouted, but it was a gesture her brother was completely immune to.

"But I did not bring all my finery to town, Charles. I just need a few things. Please," she purred, knowing that Mr. Bingley would comply just to be rid of her. Moments later the carriage turned off the road leading to Mr. Bingley's townhouse and deposited Miss Bingley in front of an elegant row of ladies' shops. Mr. Bingley promised to send the carriage back for her as soon as it was unloaded, then he gratefully sat back and enjoyed the relative peace all the way to his abode.

• • •

"Good morning, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said with a warm smile. "Livy will be down in just a moment. She asked me to keep you company until then." She offered the Colonel a seat and laughed as the Little Colonel immediately jumped into his lap and settled himself.

"It has been some time since you and I have had any real conversation, Miss Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, absently stroking the dog's soft chocolate brown hair.

"Not since Kent--much has happened since then," Elizabeth said with a blush. Her smile faded briefly, and the Colonel felt uneasy, but Elizabeth immediately brightened again. "I understand that you are soon to marry my dearest friend. I congratulate you on your excellent taste, Colonel," she said with a radiant smile. The Colonel acknowledged the compliment with his usual good humor, but he had to stop himself from wishing Miss Bennet a similar fate.

"I consider myself the most fortunate and happiest man alive," he began. "I can only hope that you...." Elizabeth ducked her head and both parties were trying to recover from their embarrassment as Olivia entered the room. The pair welcomed the distraction and immediately turned their attention to Olivia, who was somewhat surprised at the effusiveness and enthusiasm with which both Elizabeth and the Colonel welcomed her. She reckoned that she had interrupted an awkward discussion. Elizabeth rose to leave the room, but the Colonel asked both ladies to join him in a walk.

"I am certain that you would rather have Livy all to yourself, Colonel," Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eye. The Colonel returned her smile.

"I cannot deny that, madam," he said with a wink to Olivia. "But how I could never forgive myself for wasting such an opportunity?" Olivia and Elizabeth exchanged glances, then looked at the Colonel.

"Opportunity?" they said in unison.

"Yes," the Colonel said as he offered an arm to each of the ladies, "The opportunity to be seen with the two loveliest ladies in all of England." Olivia and Elizabeth rolled their eyes, and took the Colonel's arms. The Little Colonel, who had been given a real name that no one was inclined to use, joined the trio on their walk. They had not gone a block when Olivia remembered that she needed to make a small purchase to complete the ensemble she would wear to dinner that night at the Gardiner's townhouse. The trio returned to the house and ordered Miss Crenshaw's carriage. In a short time, it pulled up in front of Harley's, a venerable old shop where women of fashion had been buying fabric, trims, and accessories for over fifty years. The Colonel and his four-legged counterpart waited outside while the ladies went inside to select the perfect shade of ribbon to match Olivia's gown. As they examined samples, Elizabeth heard her name being spoken. She turned and saw Miss Bingley, conversing with an acquaintance in a stage whisper.

"I understand that there was some scandal that made her flee from her home in the dead of night," she said to her companion. "It was all over Meryton that she had gotten into some trouble with a man." She glanced in Elizabeth's direction, but by then Elizabeth had turned her back on the pair. Miss Bingley was certain that Elizabeth had heard her. The acquaintance, a Mrs. Greaves by name, was none too happy to find herself the recipient of such gossip, nor did she take any pleasure in being made a part of Miss Bingley's obvious scheme to embarrass Elizabeth. She hastened away from Miss Bingley as quickly she could and went to the far end of the counter where Elizabeth and Olivia were standing.

Elizabeth had half a mind to inform Miss Bingley that the man with whom she was allegedly in "some trouble" was Mr. Darcy, but she could not bring herself to do so. She blushed crimson, too mortified to speak, as Olivia selected three shades of silk ribbon and made her purchase. Olivia however, had also heard Miss Bingley's performance, and was not about to let it go unanswered. She casually made her way down the counter and stopped when she was standing next to Mrs. Greaves. Without taking her eyes from the showcase of elegant hatpins, she addressed the woman.

"If you want to know the real truth, no man was involved in my friend's decision to flee the country. She practically begged an invitation to come to town simply in order to avoid Miss Bingley's tedious company," Olivia said matter-of-factly. The woman smiled.

"Now that I can believe," Mrs. Greaves said, and she winked at Elizabeth as she turned and left the shop. Elizabeth's mouth fell open, for she was unaware of what Olivia had said to the lady. Elizabeth was relieved to find that Miss Bingley was long gone when she had recovered enough of her composure to turn around. The ladies left the shop, Olivia smiling and self-satisfied, Elizabeth pale and slightly angry. But her anger was soon forgotten as the Little Colonel's effusive greeting restored her good spirits

Later that afternoon, Olivia dressed for their evening at the Gardiner's home. Elizabeth knocked on the door as Olivia's abigail wove the last few inches of ribbon into Olivia's auburn hair.

"Oh, Livy, you do look beautiful," Elizabeth said as Olivia stood and twirled to give her friend a full view.

"I believe the Colonel will like it," Olivia declared as she turned her critical eye on her friend. She pushed Elizabeth into the chair she had just vacated and began to fuss with Elizabeth's hair.

"That is an understatement," Elizabeth replied as she tried to fend off Olivia's attack. But Olivia was not to be gainsaid, she had her abigail fetch a length of pale green ribbon and bade her make repairs to Elizabeth's coiffure.

"Jenny just spent ten minutes doing my hair," Elizabeth protested good-naturedly.

"Jenny may be a wonderful maid, but she knows nothing about dressing a lady's hair to its best advantage," Olivia said as she directed her personal maid to pin back an errant ringlet. There was a knock at the door. Olivia took command of the ribbon while the abigail went to open the door.

"Father wants to know if there is the slightest possibility that you ladies will complete your toilette before midnight," Edward Crenshaw said, poking his head into the room. As expected, his remark was greeted with a hail of pillows. He retreated downstairs and was soon joined by the ladies.

They entered the parlor and found Edward engaged in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who beamed with pride when he saw Olivia wearing his grandmother's pearls. The pale peach of her gown provided the perfect complement to the delicately colored strands. The Colonel bowed to Elizabeth before greeting his future wife. He took both of her hands in his.

"You look magnificent, Olivia," he said in a whisper.

"Thank you, Colonel," she breathed.

"I only wish my grandmother could see you tonight."

"Do you think she would approve of me?" Olivia whispered back.

"I do believe she would love you as much as I do," he said, applying a chaste kiss on her forehead. "On second thought, that would be placing quite a burden on my grandmother. Suffice to say she would be absolutely delighted with my choice of bride."

"Oh, Richard," Olivia said, her voice choked with emotion, just seconds before Edward tapped the Colonel on the shoulder.

"Sir?" Edward said meekly, for although the Colonel was soon to become his brother, he was still his superior officer. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not answer. "Uh...sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," the Colonel growled, his eyes still locked with Olivia's.

"My father has asked me to deliver a message to you, sir."

"And?" the Colonel asked, as he heard Elizabeth giggle in the distance. Colonel Fitzwilliam turned then and saw that the rest of the party had already left the room. "Where is your father, Lieutenant?" the Colonel asked, as Olivia tore herself away from him and went to pick up her reticule.

"He is in his carriage, Colonel, and asks that you and his daughter join him when it is convenient." The Colonel sighed, and offering his arm to his fiancée, made his way to the carriage.

In deference to Elizabeth's eagerness to see her sister, the Crenshaw party made a point of arriving at the Gardiner's home a bit early. They were graciously welcomed by Elizabeth's aunt and uncle, who received the Colonel like an old and valued friend. Jane had not yet come downstairs, so Elizabeth went up to her room. She tiptoed to Jane's door and opened it slightly. Peering in, she saw Jane preening before the mirror.

"Really, Jane! Do you truly hope to improve upon perfection?" she asked, hands on hips in a mock display of pique. Jane turned and gave her sister a quick hug.

"You think me presentable, then?" she asked, turning back to the mirror. Elizabeth took her by the arm and led her downstairs.

"If you become any more presentable, the rest of us will not stand a chance of being noticed by anyone the entire evening," Elizabeth laughed. The two ladies reached the bottom of the stairs as Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Miss Bingley came toward them from the vestibule. Jane immediately rushed to Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley curtseyed to both ladies with cool civility. Elizabeth returned the curtsey with a grim smile on her face that immediately warmed as Mr. Bingley came and took her hand.

"It is good to see you again, Miss Elizabeth. I am afraid you gave us all something of a fright the other day, disappearing from the country unexpectedly." Mr. Bingley's tone was teasing rather than reproachful, and Elizabeth immediately seized upon the opportunity to avenge herself upon his sister.

"Why Mr. Bingley! Do not tell me that you have been listening to those malicious rumors about me that someone has been spreading around town." Elizabeth cast an almost imperceptible glance at Miss Bingley, whose face instantly lost its color. Mr. Gardiner heard Elizabeth's comment and demanded to know about the rumors, and Mr. Bingley furrowed his brow in a show of filial concern. Elizabeth took her uncle's arm and led the way into the parlor.

"Do not worry yourself, Uncle," she said soothingly. "It is nothing." She took a seat on the settee next to her aunt, but neither Mr. Gardiner nor Mr. Bingley was mollified. The Colonel, as well, who had heard Elizabeth's comment from the hall, was somewhat alarmed. All eyes were on Elizabeth. She looked around, a serene smile on her face. Her eyes came to rest on Miss Bingley, who was standing near the window. "Oh, it truly is nothing. I am sure that someone who knows what has passed between Mr. Darcy and myself is putting about the rumor. Only a person without an ounce of sense would credit it."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner seemed satisfied by this explanation, as did all but three others in the room. Mr. Crenshaw and his son, who knew nothing of Elizabeth's relationship with Mr. Darcy, both raised their eyebrows in surprise. Miss Bingley, equally unenlightened, fairly swooned. Mrs. Gardiner rushed to her side.

"Miss Bingley, are you unwell?" Mrs. Gardiner cried as she and Mr. Bingley helped Miss Bingley to a chair. Mr. Gardiner fetched a glass of brandy, and without a moment's hesitation, Miss Bingley took the offered glass and swallowed half its contents in one gulp and was instantly overwhelmed by paroxysms of coughing. Her eyes grew red and she drew her fan from her reticule and fanned herself furiously. Olivia sent for water, and brought Miss Bingley the glass herself.

"Miss Bingley you do look terribly ill," she said. "Drink this down." Miss Bingley was grateful for the water but resented Olivia's attentions. She glared at Olivia as she continued to hover about, a tiny smile on her lips, although her every action sought to relieve Miss Bingley's suffering. Edward, Jane, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, were trying to conceal their amusement, while Mr. Crenshaw and Mr. Gardiner considered sending for a physician. Elizabeth alone remained calm and unruffled amid the confusion, observing Miss Bingley in quiet triumph. In a very few minutes Miss Bingley's coughing episode had subsided and the Gardiners and their guests repaired to the dining room, where a curious Edward could no longer contain his curiosity.

"Livy?" he whispered from his seat between Miss Bingley and his sister, Olivia. He was unheard by all but the two ladies beside him. "Exactly what did happen between Mr. Darcy and Lizzy?" Olivia silenced her brother with a look, but not before Miss Bingley had choked on her soup.

• • •

Mr. Darcy awoke early the next morning and took a long, leisurely stroll in the park. He had made a point of keeping to the house for the last two days, the better to resist the temptation to seek out Elizabeth Bennet. But on this morning he grew restless and soon found himself standing at the spot where he had seen Elizabeth back in March, on the grassy knoll by the pond. He stood for a moment and indulged himself with thoughts of what might have been, but he would not allow himself to succumb to morose reflections. Mr. Darcy walked on, his heart full of Elizabeth, content to think of her as he did last spring before everything went so terribly wrong. He was making his way to his club for an assignation with an old Cambridge friend when he heard his name being called. Mr. Darcy froze in his tracks, then slowly turned to see Miss Bingley rushing to catch up with him.

"Why it is you, Mr. Darcy! I was just about to get into my carriage when I thought I saw you." Mr. Darcy was less than pleased to be reunited with the lady.

"I thought you were still at Netherfield, Miss Bingley," he said in a tone slightly tinged with irritation.

"Miss Jane Bennet has come to town," Miss Bingley answered haughtily, "And my brother cannot bring himself to live without the sight of her for more than a few days' time. He has decided to drag us back to London after I had just gotten settled in Hertfordshire. Really," she added, with a roll of her eyes, "I find his engagement to that woman too tedious." Mr. Darcy held his tongue and began to turn away.

"I must be off, Miss Bingley. I am meeting Benton Fowler at my club and I do not wish to keep him waiting." He made a curt bow, but Miss Bingley took hold of his arm to stay him.

"Mr. Darcy, I am afraid I must warn you about a most scandalous report that concerns you. I think that you should put an end to it immediately before your good name comes to ruin." Miss Bingley had succeeded in gaining Mr. Darcy's full attention.

"What manner of report, Miss Bingley?" he asked.

"A report of the most sordid nature, I fear," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. Mr. Darcy became suspicious, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. "I had dinner with the Gardiners last evening." Mr. Darcy squinted at her.

"The Gardiners--I do not know them." Miss Bingley sighed petulantly.

"Then you are most fortunate. They are an insignificant little pair with high opinions of themselves. They reside in Gracechurch Street and parade about like people of fashion. It was all too tedious." Mr. Darcy drew out his watch and Miss Bingley hurried her tale. "They are also aunt and uncle to the Bennet sisters."

"And the Gardiners are spreading scandalous reports about me?" he asked dubiously. He could tell where this was going, and he was in no mood to hear Miss Bingley insult Jane Bennet again.

"No, Mr. Darcy--Elizabeth Bennet, she of the fine eyes you so admire--has been telling people that you have gotten her into trouble." Mr. Darcy didn't even blink.

"I find that impossible to believe, Miss Bingley," he said, letting his annoyance show. He began to turn away once more.

"Well, I did not actually hear her say that she was with child," she added hastily, "But she made it quite plain that she was intimately involved with you." Mr. Darcy cast a warning glare at Miss Bingley, who had gone too far to back down. "The worst of it is, Mr. Darcy, that I am sure that it was not the first time she had told the lie. Her family did not seem at all surprised by the mention of your name." Mr. Darcy had heard enough and he signaled for his carriage, which was waiting a short distance away. Miss Bingley followed after him.

"Mr. Darcy, your own cousin was present at the gathering. If you will not believe me, then speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam! He will confirm what I have said. Surely you do not wish to let her go on spreading such a lie?"

Mr. Darcy caught a glimpse of himself in the glass as he entered his carriage. He turned his smiling face to Miss Bingley and said, "Who said it was a lie?" as the carriage sped away.

• • •

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler had just parted when Mr. Bingley arrived at the club. Mr. Darcy was on his way out, and had stopped to speak with an acquaintance when Mr. Bingley hailed him.

"I say, Darcy! I was hoping to find you here. Have you eaten yet?" Mr. Darcy shook Mr. Bingley's hand.

"I have just finished my lunch, but I would be more than happy to keep you company while you dine." The two men went into the dining hall of the illustrious club and secured a table.

"I met your sister this morning," Mr. Darcy said. "She told me that you would be in town a few weeks." Mr. Bingley colored slightly and admitted that he couldn't seem to find peace in Hertfordshire while Miss Bennet was in London. Mr. Darcy smiled tolerantly and wondered yet again at the remarkable change the love of a woman had wrought in Mr. Bingley. His part in depriving his friend such joy oppressed his spirits momentarily, but Mr. Bingley's ebullience soon dispelled Mr. Darcy's guilt. As the waiter brought Mr. Bingley's soup, Mr. Darcy realized that he too had been indelibly altered by his relationship with Elizabeth Bennet. Indeed, had he not fled to London for the same reason as his friend? Mr. Bingley sampled the soup and, wiping his mouth with his napkin, addressed Mr. Darcy's very thought.

"I suppose you know exactly how I feel. Have you spoken to her yet?" Mr. Darcy took an uneasy breath. "What are you waiting for?"

"Bingley," Mr. Darcy said in a low voice. "I was not two days in Hertfordshire before Miss Bennet bolted for London. Do you think she would welcome my appearing unbidden on her doorstep? She is likely to flee London and to who knows where!" Mr. Darcy picked up a roll and absentmindedly tore it to pieces as he spoke. Mr. Bingley watched him with some amusement, but he had to agree with Mr. Darcy's sentiments. "I believe I made a mistake in following Miss Bennet to town," Mr. Darcy continued, pushing away the bits of bread and crumbs that now littered the surface of the table. "I cannot pursue her, and yet I cannot bring myself to leave."

"You are absolutely right, Darcy. I did not think of that." Mr. Bingley was silent for a moment. "Perhaps what the two of you need," he said brightening, "Is a neutral setting in which to meet." He paused to finish his soup. "I have just the thing." Mr. Darcy waited impatiently as the waiter brought Mr. Bingley's entrée and carefully whisked away the mess of breadcrumbs. "Well?" he finally asked in frustration.

"Oh!" Mr. Bingley said, wiping his mouth once more. "I am to take Miss Bennet and the Gardiners to the opera tomorrow night. Jane has asked if Miss Elizabeth may join us. I think she will be staying with the Gardiners for a few days. Anyway," Mr. Bingley paused to apply his concentration to his beef. Mr. Darcy began to drum his fingers. "If you were to also attend...your box is not too far from mine...well, I am sure you can figure it out, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said as he prodded a chunk of potato.

"Miss Bennet may be no more eager to speak to me in a public theatre than--."

"But that is the beauty of my plan, Darcy! She does not have to speak to you if she chooses not to, and if she does, well..." A smile suffused Mr. Darcy's face.

"What opera is to be performed?" Mr. Bingley stared at Mr. Darcy for a moment.

"What on earth difference does it make?" he exclaimed.

"I want to bring the right libretto with me," Mr. Darcy smiled. Mr. Bingley shook his head, and laughed. As the two men spoke, Elizabeth was putting her few personal items into the drawer alongside her sister Jane's. She would be staying with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for a few days while the Crenshaws were entertaining the family's eldest son and his family. Elizabeth sat on the bed she would be sharing with her sister, and stared out of the window. It had been more than a week since Jane had arrived in London. Elizabeth remembered their painful confrontation that afternoon. You can rest assured that Mr. Darcy will be in London before nightfall.

Nine days had come and gone since Jane had arrested Elizabeth's heart with those words. Nine days had brought no sign of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth laughed ruefully; she was not sure if she should be happy or saddened by this turn of events.

"Disappointed--that is it, Mr. Darcy. I am disappointed in you," Elizabeth declared aloud. "Not that I would welcome an interview...." She threw herself back and pulled a pillow to her chest. "Oh, Lizzy, you do not know what you want, do you?"

"I suppose you will want to get dressed before Mr. Bingley arrives," Jane said as she entered the room. Elizabeth immediately sprang to her feet, blushing at the thought that Jane had overheard all that she had said. But if Jane had heard her, she did not let on. The two women were soon dressed and ready for the evening. Mr. Bingley was to dine with the Gardiners before they left for the theatre, and Jane was most eager to see him. The pair made their way down the hall teasing each other about which of them had taken the longest to fix her hair.

They descended the stairs to the sound of a small commotion in the vestibule. Elizabeth gasped as she saw the source of the calamity. Unexpectedly, unaccountably, and most unwelcome, her mother stood before her. Mr. Gardiner and Mrs. Gardiner were trying to compose themselves and make Mrs. Bennet welcome, but that lady was oblivious to their distress. Elizabeth managed to walk forward and kiss her mother's cheek, but Jane, frozen in her position on the stairs, chose that moment to do what heroines in novels have done throughout history; she tripped down the last three steps and twisted her ankle.

• • •

"What is that?" Mr. Darcy asked in a tone of mock condescension. Colonel Fitzwilliam, unperturbed, calmly sat down, and the brown puppy immediately took its usual place in his lap. The Colonel opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Darcy stopped him with a hand. "No, do not tell me--the Little Colonel?" he asked with a smirk. The Colonel did not deign to reply. "How did you ever manage to come up with such an original name?" Mr. Darcy asked as he poured his glowering cousin a brandy.

"I adopted the beast while I was on a tour of the southern camps. My men took to calling him the Little Colonel because he followed me around during an inspection one day. I gave him to Miss Crenshaw on my return, but she has asked me to keep him for a few days while her brother and his family is in town. It seems Richard Crenshaw's wife has a morbid fear of dogs."

"Afraid of that?" Mr. Darcy pointed at the dog derisively. "You know, Fitzwilliam, a Labrador retriever is not a lap dog." The Colonel made a face.

"I know, but as a lady's dog he's not likely to do much hunting in the field either, is he?" Mr. Darcy leaned back in his chair.

"Somehow I still cannot picture him in Miss Crenshaw's lap. What does she think of the Little Colonel?"

"They are very fond of one another," the Colonel sniffed defensively.

"And she calls him the Little Colonel?" Mr. Darcy was rather enjoying his cousin's discomfort as Colonel Fitzwilliam reddened.

"She actually did give him another name, but it is even more embarrassing."

"This I must hear!" cried Mr. Darcy.

"I thought you had planned an evening at the theatre?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, hoping to divert his cousin. Mr. Darcy pulled his watch from his fob pocket.

"Would you care to join me, or do your babysitting duties prevent you?"

"I have an engagement of my own. My old commanding officer is retiring and his men are giving him a send off tonight," the Colonel said as he picked up the dog and stood. Mr. Darcy looked disapprovingly at the Colonel. The Colonel quickly put the puppy on the floor, and tugged at the leash to make it stand.

"I must be off, cousin," the Colonel said. "Remember: Saturday evening at six. Mother will be expecting you. Enjoy the opera." Mr. Darcy took the stairs to his chambers two at a time. He barely contained his excitement as he bathed and changed. In twenty minutes he was ready. Tonight would mark a new beginning; he would see Elizabeth again. Tonight he would learn if he would have any hope of ever earning her love. As Mr. Darcy waited for his carriage to be brought around, he said a silent prayer that the night would turn out well. He picked up his libretto and strolled out to his carriage with his heart in his throat.

• • •

Mr. Darcy arrived at the theatre early by design. He wanted to be there when Elizabeth arrived. He wanted a chance to see her before she...well perhaps this time she would not run away.

"Darcy!" Mr. Darcy turned and came face to face with Benton Fowler. "You did not tell me that you were coming to the theatre tonight," he said, shaking Mr. Darcy's hand.

"I did not know myself, at the time" Mr. Darcy replied, sheepishly. "I only decided to come when I heard that Pantani would be singing," he added as an afterthought. He did not want to tell Mr. Fowler his real reason for coming to the theatre on this night.

"Ah, Pantani," Mr. Fowler replied. "I first heard him on the Continent years ago. We are in for a special evening." The two men chatted, while Mr. Darcy surreptitiously surveyed the crowd. Suddenly, Mr. Fowler tapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder.

"I say, Darcy. Who is that ravishing creature on the arm of Bingley?" Without looking, for he dared not look in Elizabeth's direction until he had prepared himself, Mr. Darcy answered.

"Her name is Jane Bennet, and she is his fiancée," he said as he braced himself for the inevitable.

"Quite stunning; but I must say I never imagined Bingley with a brunette. He has always had a preference for blondes." Mr. Darcy's head spun around, and he grabbed the railing and peered over the balcony. His eyes immediately met Elizabeth's. She was indeed on Mr. Bingley's arm. Jane Bennet was nowhere in sight. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stared as each other for a moment. Then Elizabeth lowered her eyes as she approached the steps. Mr. Darcy swallowed hard. After a minute he turned to Mr. Fowler.

"I was mistaken, Fowler. The lady with Bingley is not his fiancée. She..." Before he could say more, Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth, and a couple he assumed to be the Gardiners, approached.

"Good evening, Darcy, Fowler," Mr. Bingley said a bit sheepishly. Mr. Darcy tried to appear disinterested, but he could not help staring at Elizabeth. For her part, she was having equal difficulty distracting herself. "Darcy, you know Miss Bennet, of course, but please allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Mr. Benton Fowler." Handshakes and curtseys were exchanged. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler were fixated on Elizabeth and Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner observed Mr. Darcy with great curiosity.

"Are you a fan of the opera, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Gardiner assayed boldly. If neither her niece nor Mr. Darcy was inclined to speak, she would certainly not hold her tongue. Mr. Darcy had to force himself to focus on the lady's question.

"Yes, Mrs. Gardiner. I have loved the opera ever since my parents first took me as a child." Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it, averting her eyes. "Have you ever seen Pantani perform?" Mr. Darcy asked Mrs. Gardiner, trying to keep some semblance of a conversation going. Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Fowler had fallen quite easily into a discussion of the evening's program.

"Pantani?" Mr. Darcy's heart leapt at the sound of Elizabeth's voice. Mrs. Gardiner was equally pleased at this small victory. Slowly and awkwardly, Elizabeth and Darcy made small talk about the principal tenor, the opera company, and the night's program, with gentle prodding from Mrs. Gardiner. The conversation was as delicate as a peace negotiation, both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy afraid of saying the wrong thing and wanting to say so much. "I have never seen this opera before, sir. Are you familiar with it?" Elizabeth asked as the group made its way toward Mr. Bingley's box.

"It is one of my favorites, Miss Bennet...please, allow me to offer you my libretto. It may enhance your enjoyment of the performance," Mr. Darcy said, holding out the small leather-bound volume. Elizabeth hesitated.

"I could not deprive you, sir," Elizabeth said haltingly, but Mr. Darcy insisted, and he pressed the book into her trembling hand and bowed to the ladies before disappearing into his own box. Mr. Bingley followed him into his box and hastily explained the absence of Jane Bennet.

"Unfortunately, she tripped and sprained her ankle," he said apologetically. "I would have postponed our outing entirely if Jane had not insisted that we come. I think she was more interested in bringing you and Elizabeth together than in her own health." Mr. Darcy colored slightly.

"I hope it is not serious," he replied with genuine concern. His respect and admiration of Jane Bennet had increased considerably since their meeting at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley assured Mr. Darcy that Jane's ankle would heal in a matter of days. "And what of Mrs. Bennet? I did not know that she had also come to town," Mr. Darcy said. Mr. Bingley sighed.

"Nor did I. She insisted on staying with Jane, who had tried to get her to come out tonight as well," he said with an expression that needed no explanation.

"And where is Miss Bingley tonight?"

"She decided to remain at home. It was the strangest thing. When I first told her that I was taking the Bennets to the theatre a few days ago, she seemed rather interested in coming out with us. But yesterday she suddenly told me that she would be staying home this evening. I know she has no great love for Jane or Miss Elizabeth, especially after our dinner at the Gardiner's our first night in town, but--."

"What happened at the Gardiners'?" Mr. Darcy asked, all curiosity.

"Well, Miss Elizabeth mentioned your name. She didn't speak of your proposal to her per se, but merely invoking your name in conjunction with her own was enough to make Caroline nearly faint," Mr. Bingley said, shaking his head at the revelation.

"I am afraid I probably made matters worse when I saw your sister yesterday," Mr. Darcy confessed. "She accused Miss Bennet of spreading rumors about me, and I..." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up.

"Darcy! You did not!" Mr. Darcy shook his head and smiled as Mr. Bingley disappeared, his laughter echoing down the corridor. Mr. Fowler soon replaced him.

"I say, Darcy. That lady is most enchanting." Mr. Darcy felt a pang of jealousy and suddenly wished he had not invited his old school chum to join him in his box. "If she is not Bingley's fiancée, who is she? More importantly, what is he doing with her?" Mr. Darcy hid his glare in his program.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is Jane Bennet's sister. Miss Jane Bennet injured her ankle but insisted that the others come out this evening," he intoned.

"She is unattached then? Better and better!' Mr. Fowler said. Mr. Darcy wanted to tell Mr. Fowler of his own interest in Elizabeth, but did not feel that he had that right. Elizabeth, meanwhile, sat beside her aunt and uncle, clutching Mr. Darcy's libretto in her hand. She said a small prayer of thanks that her mother had chosen to remain with Jane. Having her mother present at her first meeting with Mr. Darcy would have been intolerable. Elizabeth thought back to her mother's untimely arrival. Everything about it boded ill.

Mrs. Bennet had been uncommonly silent since her arrival, even when confronted with Jane's injury. She had allowed Mrs. Gardiner to take charge of the situation and made no argument when Jane insisted that Mr. Bingley and his party go on to the theatre without her. She was up to something, of that Elizabeth was certain, but try as she might to figure out what, Elizabeth was woefully distracted by the certain knowledge that Mr. Darcy was in the same building, less than a hundred feet away. She had seen him. She had spoken with him. He had touched her hand when he gave her the libretto. She looked down and fingered the slim volume. Elizabeth opened the libretto and read, To Fitzwilliam, from your loving mother. She turned a few pages and found a piece of paper, a note from his mother. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the note and read,

Since you insist on spending so much time at the opera (your father and I do hope that your interest is in the music!), I thought this might be of use to you.

Elizabeth blushed, and quickly replaced the note. She closed her eyes and remembered her first sight of him at the top of the stairs. Her heart had raced; her throat had become dry. She was glad of Mr. Bingley's support or else she might not have had the courage to take that first step. And suddenly, too swiftly, she found herself face to face with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled, glad that she had not swooned like some frail heroine in a novel. She glanced to her left and saw her aunt smiling at her. Elizabeth blushed again and returned to perusing the libretto.

"He is very handsome, your Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth's embarrassed reply was no more than an "Mmm." But Mrs. Gardiner was not satisfied with that. "I grew up not five miles from Pemberley, you know. Our family was not of the first circle, of course, but we did see the Darcys now and again. The late Mr. Darcy was a fine man." Elizabeth dropped her pretense of reading the libretto and looked at her aunt. Mr. Bingley entered the box, and taking the seat on Elizabeth's other side, observed her reactions to her aunt's comments.

"You did not mention this before, Aunt."

"I really had not thought about it. The younger Mr. Darcy also seems like a very fine man, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to squirm in her seat and felt relieved when the concertmaster and conductor made their appearance in the orchestra pit. Elizabeth sighed and attempted to focus her mind on the stage. In another box a short distance away, Mr. Darcy tried to do the same. But his mind kept going back four months to that night in another theatre when Elizabeth sat opposite him. Now she was closer, much closer, and yet Mr. Darcy had never felt farther away from her than he did at that moment.

"Jane, dear, was Lizzy staying with the Gardiners when you arrived in town?" Mrs. Bennet asked as she made a survey of the bedroom where her brother had carefully deposited Jane.

"Of course not, Mama. You know that she has been staying with the Crenshaws. She only came to Gracechurch Street today because she gave up her bedroom to Mr. Crenshaw's houseguests."

"Well, I do not see why Mr. Crenshaw had to turn my Lizzy out on the street in favor of some stranger," Mrs. Bennet declared unreasonably. Jane shook her head as Mrs. Bennet swept the top of the mantel with her finger in search of dust.

"Mother! Mr. Crenshaw's eldest son Richard and his wife are in town only for a few days. He has not seen them in months. Lizzy gave up her room so that he could accommodate them and their children comfortably. It was Lizzy's choice to come here, mother, she was not 'turned out' of the Crenshaws' house."

"Well, if you ask me it is all extremely suspicious, Lizzy's running off to town suddenly to the Crenshaws, and then just as suddenly coming here." She nodded her head decisively. "Mark my words, there is something afoot." Jane was getting a headache, but she was too concerned about her mother's motives for coming to town to worry about her pain. She had some strong suspicions of her own, and she wanted to confirm them.

"What do you mean, Mama?"

"I think that our Lizzy is in some sort of trouble," she whispered. Jane covered her mouth, wondering if her mother's comment had anything to do the rumor Elizabeth had spoken about at dinner a few nights ago.

"What do you mean, Mama?" she said breathlessly.

"I believe that Lizzy's disappearance has something to do with a man," she replied in her affected whisper. "And I have proof." Jane was incredulous. "I had Hill turn out the bedding in your rooms after you both went away. I came in just as she pulled Lizzy's pillow from its case and what do you think I found?" Jane, too afraid to speak, shook her head.

"A man's handkerchief. In her bed!" Jane sighed. It was her mother's imagination after all.

"Mother, might it not be one of father's?" Jane reasoned.

"Your father's name is Bennet, child." Jane furrowed her brows in confusion. "This handkerchief bore the letter D." Jane nearly laughed out loud in her relief. Of course, she dared not reveal the name of the handkerchief's apparent owner, but at least Jane could take comfort that Elizabeth was certainly innocent of whatever her mother had conjured up.

"The minute I saw it I knew that she was in danger. Humph! Her father's favorite girl and right under his nose she carries on an illicit attachment, and Lord knows what else."

"Mother! How can you suggest such a thing! Lizzy would never--."

"I have taken it upon myself to do something about it. It would break her father's heart to know that Lizzy had fallen into the clutches of some libertine, some debaucher of innocents. Well, not one of my girls! I am going to find that cad and make him marry her!" With that, Mrs. Bennet rose and made her way to the door. "I will seek my brother's assistance. He will know how the blackguard is to be found." Jane sat there, gaping, long after her mother had left the room. Finally, she put her hands over her face and fell back onto the pillows. Her head throbbed, but she knew that Elizabeth's would feel far worse when she learned the truth behind her mother's visit.

• • •

The minute the intermission came, Benton Fowler expressed an interest in visiting Mr. Bingley's box. Mr. Darcy had no choice but to follow; he was not about to give his friend the advantage. When they reached the box, however, he found that Elizabeth and her aunt had gone to the ladies' lounge, and so he slipped back into the corridor while Mr. Bingley, Mr. Gardiner, and Mr. Fowler engaged in conversation. In a few minutes his strategy was rewarded, as Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner approached the box. Mrs. Gardiner tactfully detached herself from Elizabeth's arm, and pleading fatigue, returned to her seat in the box. Fearing that Mr. Fowler would also come in search of Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy offered to take her on a tour of the theatre.

"A tour?"

"Yes. The _____ Theatre is one of the finest and most famous in London. It was built in 1763," Mr. Darcy said, taking Elizabeth by the elbow and steering her away from Mr. Bingley's box. For the next few minutes, Mr. Darcy showed Elizabeth the theatre's grandly ornate interior that took three years to complete, the delicate murals painted by Italian artisans who immigrated to England expressly for the purpose of painting them. He spoke of the rich red velvet curtains and named the courtesan who supposedly chose the color, and told her of several famous operas that had premiered on its stage. Neither of them was paying much attention to what was said. Both were too afraid of what might happen if he stopped talking. Both were too moved by the heady experience of being in each other's company to ponder the conversation. It ended too soon. By the time Mr. Fowler caught up with them, it was nearly time for the second act to begin. Mr. Darcy was in such good spirits that he allowed Mr. Fowler to escort Elizabeth back to her seat without a challenge. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Their eyes met, and Mr. Darcy knew what it was to have hope.

When the final curtain came down, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler rose to leave their box. Mr. Fowler immediately sought to gain the advantage denied him earlier, and he bolted for Mr. Bingley's box. Mr. Darcy followed silently. As he entered the box, he saw Elizabeth staring out over the crowd as it exited the orchestra level. She turned when Mr. Fowler addressed her, but her eyes immediately found Mr. Darcy. She politely answered Mr. Fowler's inquiries as to her opinion of the performance, and her impression of Mozart, but her mind was on the brooding man at the rear of the box. Mr. Darcy watched silent and aloof, much like the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire, and Elizabeth felt a bit disappointed. She wanted to bring Mr. Darcy into the conversation, but could not find an opening. Mrs. Gardiner tried to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation fearing that he might flee in the face of a determined competitor. Elizabeth began to worry when she saw Mr. Darcy bow to Mrs. Gardiner. He is leaving! Mr. Darcy spared her one last look, and with a slight bow in her direction, he turned to depart. Mr. Bingley asked him something Elizabeth could not hear, but it was apparently unsuccessful in delaying his departure. Elizabeth bowed her head, as Mr. Fowler continued to prattle on. She looked at the spot Mr. Darcy had recently vacated; a moment later she bolted into the corridor after him, leaving a bewildered Mr. Fowler behind.

Elizabeth reached the stairs and saw Mr. Darcy at the bottom, headed for the door. She called out his name, but he either did not hear her or did not care to stop. Elizabeth almost gave up. Then she took a deep breath, lifted her skirts and raced down the steps and out the door. She called to him once again. Startled, Mr. Darcy stopped and turned toward her.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said breathlessly. He instinctively put out his arm to support her.

"Are you all right, Miss Bennet?" he said softly, as he breathed in that intoxicating scent that had sustained him through the early spring. Elizabeth put her hand to her chest in an effort to still her heaving bosom.

"Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to alarm you," she replied as she gasped for air. "It is just that you left so abruptly and..." Mr. Darcy, who had bent toward her to offer his assistance, stiffened slightly. He did not know whether his jealous reaction had helped or injured his cause. "...You did not give me a chance to return your libretto, Mr. Darcy, or to tell you that it did indeed add greatly to my enjoyment of the performance, as did your tour of the theatre." Mr. Darcy permitted a wry, crooked smile to escape his lips.

"I am very glad you enjoyed it, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said as the tension began to drain from his body.

"This little book, on the basis of the inscription on the frontispiece, must be very important to you. I would not wish for you to forget it," she said, pressing the volume into his hand. Mr. Darcy stared at the book for a moment.

"I had only just remembered that I failed to retrieve it from you. I thought to call upon you in Gracechurch Street for it tomorrow." Elizabeth smiled archly.

"I hope that depriving you of a ready excuse will not prevent you from paying your call, Mr. Darcy." Mr. Darcy flashed one of his rare toothsome smiles, and spotting Mr. Bingley approaching to fetch Elizabeth, he bowed and took his leave.

"Wild horses would not prevent me, Miss Bennet." Mr. Darcy kissed her hand and then entrusted the love of his life to the care of his best friend.

• • •

Elizabeth might not have needed Mr. Bingley's carriage had she been able to float her way back to Gracechurch Street amid the clouds. Her head was in the clouds in any event, and she sat next to Mrs. Gardiner with a serene smile upon her face that was reflected in the faces of her companions. No words were exchanged for the length of the trip; none were necessary. When the carriage stopped at Gracechurch Street, Mr. Bingley declined to come inside with the family since Jane, who had been carried up to her room after supper, had most likely retired for the night. He did, however, reach out and squeeze Elizabeth's hand, and catching her attention, asked her to convey to Jane his love. Elizabeth was more than happy to be able to carry such a message to her sister and told Mr. Bingley so. Before releasing her hand, Mr. Bingley could not resist expressing his happiness in another quarter. He looked meaningfully into Elizabeth's eyes.

"I am happy...so very happy for you both," he stammered with his characteristically boyish grin. Elizabeth did not share his confidence, although she did share his joy.

"It was a beginning, Mr. Bingley, nothing more. But it was a splendid evening, and I have you to thank for it." Elizabeth gave Mr. Bingley's hand a squeeze and went into the house. She glided down the corridor and into the parlor where her aunt and uncle had ordered tea. Elizabeth swept into the room, her cheeks aglow, and a smile about her lips, and froze as she confronted her mother's disapproving glare. Her mother stood near a window, where she had obviously been eavesdropping on her conversation with Miss Bingley.

"Holding hands with Mr. Bingley, were you? Is there no end to your infamy?" Mrs. Bennet said in a huff as she turned her back on Elizabeth in dramatic fashion. A stunned Elizabeth exchanged glances with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

"Mama? Mr. Bingley and I were only speaking of Jane. He gave me a message to give to her, nothing more." Mrs. Bennet continued to look away. She went to a chair and sat, her eyes averted from her daughter.

"Surely you do not think that Elizabeth was flirting with Mr. Bingley, sister," Mr. Gardiner managed to say as his wife joined him in protesting Mrs. Bennet's inexplicable treatment of her daughter.

"I am sure I do not know what to think," Mrs. Bennet replied, with an offended sniff. She looked at Elizabeth then, and Elizabeth just shook her head and left the room. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner attempted to mollify Mrs. Bennet as Elizabeth made her way upstairs. She entered the bedroom quietly, so as not to awaken her sister, but to her surprise she found Jane wide-awake.

"Jane! I expected to find you sleeping. Do not tell me that you also did not trust me with your fiancé?" she said with a smile.

"What?" Jane said, as she closed the book she was reading. "What reason should I have to be jealous?"

"No reason at all. A love that can withstand a six-month separation as yours did can surely withstand one night. Mother, however, saw Mr. Bingley take my hand and whisper in my ear, and now she is accusing me of trying to steal your future husband," Elizabeth said wearily, as she sat at the vanity and began pulling pins from her hair. Jane scrambled to the edge of the large bed to be closer to her sister.

"And why should my future husband be whispering in my sister's ear?" she asked archly, but without the merest suggestion of jealousy. Elizabeth turned to her dearest sister and smiled.

"Oh, he begged to me to tell you how much he missed your company this evening, and something or other about loving you passionately, or you being the light of his life...adoring you to his last breath...you know the sort of thing." The two ladies erupted into giggles. As their laughter subsided, Elizabeth returned her attention to the mirror and removed her jewelry. Her eyes were on her face, but her mind was apparently miles away.

"Did you enjoy the opera, Lizzy?" Jane asked, surmising that the smile on Elizabeth's face meant far more than she had thus far admitted.

"I had a lovely time," Elizabeth replied as she rose to undress. She continued to speak but her voice was muffled slightly as her dress was drawn over her head. Jane got up on her knees at the edge of the bed and helped pull the gown away.

"What did you say? I could not hear you under all that muslin."

"I said that I met Mr. Darcy at the theatre." Elizabeth spoke calmly, without a tremor of emotion in her voice. But Jane knew that Elizabeth could not be so sanguine.

"Lizzy! Where...how...did the two of you have a chance to speak? Was Miss Bingley present?"

"Jane! One question at a time!" Elizabeth teased, knowing that her sister was as eager to hear her news as she was to tell it. "Yes, we did have a chance to speak and no, Miss Bingley was not present."

"Did you resolve...I mean...I do not want to pry, but--." Elizabeth laughed as she removed the remainder of her apparel.

"Jane, you were always a terrible liar." Elizabeth shrugged into her nightgown and climbed onto the bed. She handed Jane a comb, and turned her back so her sister could do her hair. "We 'resolved' nothing. We did not discuss anything of import: the opera, the performers, and about the theatre itself. We behaved as two old friends who happened to meet by chance at a public place; that is all."

"That is much," Jane exclaimed, "For two people who have not exchanged civil words since April. Now, if the two of you could only manage to 'meet by chance' again..." Jane paused, a hank of Elizabeth's hair forgotten in her hand as she began to consider the possibilities. Elizabeth reached up and freed herself.

"There is no need to think up any elaborate scheme, Jane," Elizabeth said as she finished her braid. "Mr. Darcy has promised to call here tomorrow." The smile on her lips faded as quickly as it appeared. She abruptly let herself fall backward upon the bed.

"Oh, dear! I have forgotten about mother. Mr. Darcy cannot come here tomorrow!" Jane saw her opening and seized upon it.

"Lizzy," she began, as Elizabeth slid under the sheet next to her, "It is far worse than you know."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"Mother told me why she came to town." Jane did not know where to start.

"Well?"

"She has apparently heard the rumor about you..."

"There was no rumor. I only made it up to spite Miss Bingley," Elizabeth confessed.

"Are you sure? Mama is quite convinced that there is a scandal...." Elizabeth, suddenly grew worried, and sat up in the bed.

"What? Jane, tell me everything Mama said to you." Jane sat up and propped herself up with pillows.

"Well, when you left Longbourn so suddenly, Mama was convinced that you were involved in some sort of scandal. Mary and I were finally able to calm her down, but a few days ago, when she found a man's handkerchief in your bed, she believed that her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. She resolved then and there to come to London and find out who the man was and to make him marry you." Jane reached out to take Elizabeth's hand. It was as cold as ice.

"I lost my perfume vial. Mr. Darcy found it and sent it back to me wrapped in one of his own handkerchiefs. I kept it under my pillow. I..." Elizabeth fell silent and said nothing for several minutes.

"Lizzy?" Jane finally said, trying to gauge her sister's state of mind. It was not until then that she realized that her sister had been crying.

"I cannot believe it. That my own mother could believe me capable of...and tonight of all nights...when I was disposed to be so happy? Oh, Jane! I cannot, I must not allow Mr. Darcy to come tomorrow. I must not...." Her next words were lost in sobs. Jane put her arm around Elizabeth and hugged her. "She will ruin everything. No matter what he may feel about me, Mr. Darcy will never have her as a relative. I must have been crazy to even think it possible." Jane tried to quiet and calm the distraught woman, but Elizabeth would not allow herself to be consoled.

"I had only just learned to hope, and now all is lost," she said as she turned over and, laying her head on her pillow, cried herself to sleep.

Eight

—

"You know Mrs. Gardiner and I have no secrets, Fanny. Whatever you wish to say to me may be said in front of her." Mrs. Bennet seemed affronted by his reply.

"It is a matter of a rather personal nature," she said indignantly. Mrs. Gardiner rose as if to leave, but Mr. Gardiner stayed her with a hand.

"What is this about, Fanny?" Mrs. Bennet looked pointedly at Mrs. Gardiner before answering.

"I am afraid that Lizzy has gotten herself into trouble with some man," she said in her affected stage whisper.

"What manner of trouble?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"What man?" Mrs. Gardiner asked, though neither of them believed her for a moment.

"I do not know who the man is. I want you to find out, brother. That is why I came to town." Mr. Gardiner's mouth fell open, while his wife had to fight to suppress a laugh.

"What on earth made you think such a thing?" she cried. Mrs. Bennet glared at her derisively.

"I know that the two of you quite look upon Lizzy as your own dear girl, but she is my daughter. A mother knows these things," Mrs. Bennet declared with a satisfied nod. The Gardiners rolled their eyes.

"Facts, Fanny. What is it that you claim to know?" her exasperated brother asked.

"I know that Lizzy came back to us this spring a very changed girl. She did not think I noticed it, but a mother knows these things. I noticed it the moment she came home. She was quiet and aloof--not at all her usual self. I told Mr. Bennet then that something was wrong, but did he listen to me? No! He insisted that I was being ridiculous." The Gardiners exchanged meaningful glances.

"You must have something more than that upon which to base your suspicions, Fanny," said Mrs. Gardiner patiently. We may as well hear all of it, she thought to herself.

"Well," Mrs. Bennet, warming to her topic and enjoying the attention she had gained from her company. "You know that Lizzy ran away from home."

"She did come to town a day earlier than scheduled, but she went precisely where she was supposed to go. You can hardly call that running away, sister," Mr. Gardiner said with a hint of exasperation.

"Yes, but why did she leave so hastily? And why did she leave a man's handkerchief in her bed?" Mrs. Bennet cried dramatically. The Gardiners were too jaded by Mrs. Bennet's histrionics to be baited by this revelation. "I think that she had an assignation in town. I think she may have planned to elope, right from under all our noses!"

Neither of the Gardiners credited Mrs. Bennet's tale. They were well aware of Elizabeth's history with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth had held nothing back that day a week and a half earlier when she appeared unexpectedly on their doorstep. Nor were they a bit surprised to learn that Elizabeth had not told her mother of Mr. Darcy's proposal. Elizabeth had decidedly not come to town for an assignation with Mr. Darcy or any other man of her acquaintance. She had fled to London to avoid just that possibility. The Gardiners chose to respect her privacy.

"I cannot believe that Lizzy would do such a thing," Mr. Gardiner said with a significant look at his wife. "Nothing in her behavior has ever led us to believe that she harbored an attachment to anyone," he lied.

"Well, I know better," Mrs. Bennet declared, rising to her feet and clenching her fists in a gesture of defiance. "And I mean to ferret out the blackguard who has corrupted my daughter." Mrs. Gardiner rose and attempted to assuage her sister's enthusiasm.

"What makes you think Lizzy has been, uh, 'corrupted,' as you say?"

"She had a man's handkerchief in her bed. Who is to say that he did not put it there himself?" The Gardiners rolled their eyes again, but began to fear--much as Elizabeth herself had--what Mrs. Bennet's well-intentioned but misguided meddling might cost the girl. Mr. Gardiner gave Mrs. Bennet every assurance that he would personally investigate the matter. He managed to convince his sister to let him deal with it in order to spare her any "further mortification." When she had retired for the evening, the Gardiners sat together in the parlor, worried and stunned.

"Well, dear," Mrs. Gardiner began. "I would not have believed it if I had not heard it with my own ears. Poor Lizzy!" she said, shaking her head before resting it on Mr. Gardiner's shoulder. Mr. Gardiner reached over and lovingly patted her head.

"Poor Mr. Darcy! He and Lizzy have only just begun again. How can he expect to court her with Fanny lurking about suspiciously?" The couple chuckled, but Mrs. Gardiner suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, dear! I believe I heard Lizzy say something to Mr. Bingley about Mr. Darcy calling in Gracechurch Street tomorrow as he handed her out of the carriage. If he is planning on coming here--," she said, "Maybe I can manage to get your sister out of the house. Yes; I will offer to take Mrs. Bennet to the shops first thing in the morning."

"Maybe we had better have a word with Lizzy first thing in the morning, my love. She should know about her mother's suspicions."

"Yes. If those two are to have any chance at happiness, they will need all of the help they can get."

• • •

Early the next morning, the Crenshaw family sat down to a hearty breakfast. The morning meal marked the first occasion in nearly a year when Mr. Crenshaw had all of his children about him again. His eldest son, Richard, sat at his right hand next to his wife, Elise. Mr. Crenshaw's younger son, Edward had been granted a few days' extra leave to be with his family. Olivia sat next to Adam Douglass, Elise's brother, and the elder of Richard and Elise's two daughters.

Like his father, Richard Crenshaw had made a study of the law, but unlike his father, he had never found the need to practice it, having had the good fortune to marry exceedingly well. It was not widely known that Jane Bennet had been the first object of Richard's affections, but when she did not return his love he had found solace in the arms of a very wealthy widow. He did not marry Elise Strong for her money, as many had thought at the time. He fell in love with the lady, not her forty thousand pounds. But people refused to believe it since Elise was somewhat plain. But one had only to spend a bit of time with that lady and experience her warm and personable nature to understand what Richard saw in her. And anyone who saw them together could not deny that they were deeply in love.

Adam Douglass was his sister's opposite: as fair as she was dark, shy and soft-spoken as she was confident and gregarious. He was almost unreasonably handsome, with deep blue eyes that invariably caused the hearts of ladies in his company to flutter and men in his company to secretly envy him. Mr. Douglass had been traveling with his sister and brother on the Continent, and was to join them at their home in Kent for the remainder of the summer.

"I do hope we will have a chance to see Miss Bennet while we are in town," Richard was saying. "It is a pity our numbers forced her to flee to the Gardiners." Olivia assured her brother that Elizabeth promised to visit very soon, and Mr. Crenshaw suggested that the Gardiners be invited to dine with the Crenshaws during his son's visit.

"It has been a long time since our families were all together. The last time was just after your mother's passing," he said softly. A sad quiet fell over the room for a few moments.

"Edward tells me that you received a puppy as a gift from your fiancé," Elise said, breaking the tension. Olivia smiled as she buttered her scone.

"Yes. That is why we call him the Little Colonel." Mr. Douglass laughed and asked if Colonel Fitzwilliam approved of having a dog named after him. "Well, to tell the truth," Olivia replied archly, "I did give him another name but the Colonel liked that one even less."

"What was it?" six-year old Eleanor asked.

"You must promise not to tell a soul," Olivia said dramatically, before realizing that such a promise could not be exacted from a child, much less her older brothers, notorious teases that they were. She promised to tell Eleanor later, when they were alone.

"So, you are to marry Richard Fitzwilliam," his friend of the same name said. "I would never have imagined the two of you as a couple. When did it happen?" Olivia tried to suppress the flush of color that she felt rising in her cheeks.

"I must admit that I first became infatuated with the Colonel when he came home from school with you many years ago. But I would have to say that I first came to his notice at a winter ball two years past."

"That was the ball where she wore that disgusting gown that left absolutely no doubt as to her sex," Edward interjected. Elise's mouth fell open as did her husband's. "You were there, Adam. You remember it, I am sure."

"I...I was there, and as I recall Miss Crenshaw looked very lovely," Mr. Douglass managed, reddening almost as much as Olivia.

"Exactly what sort of gown was this?" Elise queried her sister.

"It was pink," Mr. Crenshaw intoned. "Fashionable, flattering, modest, and very, very pink," he said in a manner that put an abrupt end to Edward's insinuations. Olivia glared at her younger brother triumphantly.

"So, when is the wedding to take place?" Richard asked, returning to his original line of discussion.

"We have not yet set a date. Richard's...the Colonel's parents have arrived in town and we are all to dine with them in a few days. I think that we may set a date after we have consulted with them."

"Your letter said Jane Bennet is also to be married," Richard continued. If he still felt anything for Jane when he said those words, he gave no outward sign.

"Yes. She is engaged to Charles Bingley. Do you know him?" Olivia asked.

"I know the name...I am certain that we must have met at some time or another. A friend of Darcys' is he not, father?"

"Yes. Bingley and the young Mr. Darcy are as thick as thieves. I do not believe their families were acquainted, however," Mr. Crenshaw replied. The two men fell into a conversation about the Darcy family, leaving Olivia and Elise to talk. Although Elise and Olivia rarely had a chance to spend much time together, they were very fond.

"You must be very excited," Elise said with a knowing smile. Olivia told Elise and Mr. Douglass, who knew too little of the Darcys to find interest in the men's conversation and was more inclined to follow his sister's lead in most things, the long and winding story of her courtship with the Colonel.

"Then you were expecting his proposal?" Mr. Douglass asked softly when Olivia concluded.

"I will not say that I was expecting it," Olivia laughed.

"She will also not say that she was desperately hoping for it," Elise added, and both ladies giggled, much to Mr. Douglass' bemusement. When breakfast was done, the family went about their separate tasks; the ladies repaired to the parlor, where they took up their sewing and continued their conversation. Edward and Adam went up to Edward's room to discuss things military, and the older two men went to the study. Eleanor was carted off by her nurse.

"Perhaps we should call on Lizzy today," Elise suggested. "She did promise to call on us, but since we displaced her I think that we owe her the courtesy of a first visit." Olivia was happy to see her friend regardless of the circumstances, and seconded the plan. A short while later, Richard, Elise, Olivia and Mr. Douglass arrived at the Gardiner's door. Inside, a nervous Jane and a panicked Elizabeth waited.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had spoken with the two ladies before Mrs. Bennet came down to breakfast. Elizabeth was beside herself with worry that Mr. Darcy would be subjected to her mother's outrageous behavior and was determined to cancel his visit. Mr. Gardiner suggested that Jane write a note to Mr. Bingley and ask his help in postponing Mr. Darcy's call at the house. A hastily written note thus made its way across town to Mr. Bingley, where it was accepted by his sister at the door of his townhouse. She carried it into the breakfast room where her brother was enjoying a cup of coffee.

"Here, Charles. Your Miss Bennet apparently could not wait until a respectable hour to summon you," she intoned as she casually tossed the missive on the table. Mr. Bingley picked up the note and read it.

"Good God!" he yelped as hot coffee splattered on his formerly pristine cravat. He leapt up from the table and called for his carriage. As he ran upstairs to change his cravat, Miss Bingley's curiosity overcame her and she read the note her brother had carelessly discarded:

My Dearest Charles,

Please forgive this odd note, but I must write to beg your immediate assistance. I fear for Mr. Darcy.

You see, our mother has found Mr. Darcy's handkerchief in Lizzy's bedroom, and has come to London to expose him as Lizzy's lover. Mr. Darcy plans upon calling on Lizzy at Gracechurch Street this morning and I am writing you to beg your assistance in preventing him. Please prevent him, Charles! If Mr. Darcy comes to Gracechurch Street all will be ruined. Please assure Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth will happily meet with him at another time, but that he must not come here until we have convinced our mother to return home to Longbourn.

Please let me know of your success in reaching Mr. Darcy. Lizzy and I will eagerly await word.

Jane

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm Miss Bingley, but she forced herself to stand. She took a deep breath and fled the morning room.

• • •

Mr. Bingley arrived at Mr. Darcy's house before nine of the clock, and found the master at his own breakfast.

"Bingley! You are here rather early. Please, join me," Mr. Darcy said with a gesture toward the table. Mr. Bingley sat and cautiously accepted a cup of coffee. "I am planning on calling on Miss Bennet at Gracechurch Street this morning. If you are planning on visiting your fiancée, we may as well go together." Mr. Bingley looked into the cheerful face of his friend. Everything in Mr. Darcy's demeanor spoke of newfound optimism. Mr. Bingley felt a pang of misery as he carefully formed his next sentence.

"That is precisely why I have come, Darcy. I just received a note from Jane. She urged me to convince you not to go to Gracechurch Street this morning." Mr. Bingley paused, as he searched his pockets unsuccessfully for the note. Mr. Darcy's facial features stiffened.

"Not go? Why ever not?"

"I am afraid it is a bit of a muddle," Mr. Bingley began, still fumbling for the absent document. "According to Jane, Mrs. Bennet found a personal item of yours in Miss Elizabeth's bed chamber...blast, I must have left it in my other waistcoat...and she now suspects Miss Elizabeth of having taken a lover." Mr. Bingley gave up the search and laid his empty hands upon the table. "Jane seems to think that Mrs. Bennet thinks--."

"Wait a minute, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said rising and carrying his cup to the sideboard for a refill. "You say that Mrs. Bennet found an object of mine among Miss Bennet's personal effects?"

"A handkerchief, if I remember correctly," Mr. Bingley amended. "Although I do not know that she knows it to be yours. But Jane seems to believe that she will think it is yours if you appear this morning at Gracechurch Street."

"Why?" asked a confused Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley could only shrug in response. Mr. Darcy stared into his cup for a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders as well. "Well, there is only one thing for it," Mr. Darcy said with a wry smile. He placed the cup on the sideboard and adjusted his cuffs. "I must go to Mrs. Bennet and confess."

"Darcy!" Mr. Bingley leapt to his feet, his mouth agape. Mr. Darcy laughed.

"Oh, I am innocent of whatever that inane woman is accusing me of, but I am willing to take responsibility for it and accept whatever punishment she decides to mete out."

"And if that punishment is banishment from Miss Elizabeth's company?" asked a dubious Mr. Bingley, as he followed Mr. Darcy toward the door of the breakfast room. Mr. Darcy looked askance at his suggestion.

"This is Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn we are speaking of. She will demand that I marry her daughter, and I as a gentleman will have no choice but to comply." Mr. Darcy stepped forward, but Mr. Bingley reached out and prevented Mr. Darcy from opening the door.

"Think, man. Will Miss Elizabeth appreciate your stooping to such a tactic?" Mr. Darcy turned his back to the door and leaned heavily against it. He knew that Mr. Bingley was correct.

"What am I to do, then, Bingley? I promised Miss Bennet that I would see her today. I would not want to disappoint her."

"You are far more likely to disappoint her if you resort to chicanery to win her hand." Mr. Bingley smiled. "I have another idea."

"If it is as good as your last one, I am all ears." A short while later, the two men parted company. Mr. Darcy walked along the perimeter of ______ Park, while Mr. Bingley made his way to Gracechurch Street.

• • •

When the doorbell sounded at Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth froze. She lowered herself into a seat and mercilessly gripped the armrests. Jane, who was resting her ankle on a divan that had been brought down from the Gardiner's sitting room, held her breath. A moment later, however, the Crenshaw party was shown into the parlor. Jane and Elizabeth were reunited with Richard Crenshaw, Elise, and Mr. Douglass, who had met the two ladies several years ago at Richard and Elise's wedding. When Mr. Gardiner joined his guests in the parlor Olivia managed to find a moment with Elizabeth to get caught up on gossip. She was most pleased to learn that Elizabeth had spent part of the previous evening in the company of Mr. Darcy. The ladies repaired to the relative privacy of the window seat to talk.

"It sounds as though the two of you are finally getting somewhere," Olivia smiled.

"Oh, but it will be all for naught if he keeps his promise and comes here this morning. I am sure that my mother will offend him irrevocably," Elizabeth said worriedly, twisting the handkerchief in her hand.

"But she is out this morning, you said," Olivia reasoned. Elizabeth was determinedly grim.

"Yes, but only for now. I have every confidence that she will return in time to ruin my every hope." Olivia put her arm around Elizabeth, attracting the attention of Elise, who came over fearing that something was amiss.

"Are you all right, Miss Bennet? I am afraid you look unwell," Elise whispered as she sat on Elizabeth's other side and took her hand. Olivia fashioned a hasty excuse to explain Elizabeth's anxiety.

"I am afraid that Lizzy was out rather late last evening and is the worse for it this morning," Olivia said unconvincingly. Elise could see that Elizabeth's anxiety had nothing to do with a lack of sleep, but she chose not to pry. She was about to make a tactful retreat when a commotion was heard in the hall. A moment later, Mrs. Bennet, followed by a slightly flustered Mrs. Gardiner, swept into the room.

"I have never been so exhausted in my life," Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "I do declare, sister, you must have meant to torment me with so many shops, so many selections of muslin and lace. So many laces, Mrs. Gardiner! I could not take it all in. My nerves cannot cope with so much excitement," she declared collapsing dramatically into the nearest chair. Jane glanced at Elizabeth, who had gone absolutely pale. Mr. Gardiner was also alarmed by the early return of his wife and sister.

"Mama," Jane said quickly. "We have guests. You will remember the Crenshaws. This is Mr. Richard Crenshaw and his wife, Mrs. Crenshaw, and of course, Olivia. And this is Mr. Douglass, Mrs. Crenshaw's brother." Mrs. Bennet spared the merest courtesies for the Crenshaws, out of her supposed exhaustion and a lingering dislike for Mrs. Crenshaw (whom she had long accused of luring Richard Crenshaw away from Jane). She greeted Olivia politely, but reserved her charm for Mr. Douglass. He was someone new, a handsome man from a very wealthy family. Here was a man who might make a good husband for one of her daughters. Mrs. Bennet's earnest gaze discomfited Mr. Douglass, and he unwisely chose to change his seat for one closer to Elizabeth and Olivia in order to escape that lady's attention. Noticing that Elizabeth looked very pale, he stopped and poured out a glass of water for her as he made his way across the room.

"Miss Bennet? You...I am afraid my sister is correct; you do look rather pale. Perhaps a glass of water...?" Mr. Douglass managed. Elizabeth gratefully accepted the water and Mr. Douglass sat down next to Elizabeth in the seat his sister had vacated. Mrs. Bennet promptly crossed the room to join them.

"I understand that you were recently on the Continent, Mr. Douglass," Mrs. Bennet began, as Mr. Douglass rose and offered her his own seat. Much to Elizabeth and Olivia's chagrin, she accepted it.

"Yes, ma'am," was the extent of Mr. Douglass' reply.

"And how long were you there?" Mrs. Bennet continued as the ladies rolled their eyes.

"Three months ma'am." Mrs. Bennet did a quick calculation in her head, while Elizabeth grew queasy.

"Then you must have been in town last spring when Lizzy was here." Mr. Douglass looked at Elizabeth blankly for a moment, then turned back to Mrs. Bennet.

"Mrs. Bennet?" Elizabeth's mother smiled smugly. So! I have found the infamous Mr. "D," and he seems determined to play the innocent. Well, I shall have Elizabeth engaged and married before Christmas regardless of his little game.

"Mr. Douglass lives in Devonshire, Mrs. Bennet. He was not in town when Lizzy was here in March. In fact, I believe he was in Kent with our sister and brother at the time," Olivia said helpfully. It was not until she felt Elizabeth's fingers digging into her thigh that she realized her mistake.

"Then you must have seen my daughter in Kent, sir. She was staying with her cousin Mr. Collins and often was often in the company of Lady Catherine DeBourgh," Mrs. Bennet said proudly. Elizabeth groaned inwardly.

"No, ma'am. I...I had no idea that you ever were in Kent, Miss Bennet, or else I would have...I would have been pleased to call upon you," Mr. Douglass said in a voice barely above a whisper. Elizabeth smiled kindly at Mr. Douglass. She found him shy and sweet, a good conversationalist when he dared allow himself to speak, and wondrously handsome to look upon, but he was scarcely the sort of man to excite her interest. Olivia, Elizabeth's spiritual twin, had recognized his incompatibility with her own nature, and had not even attempted to match Mr. Douglass with her friend. Olivia could not fathom how Mrs. Bennet could see Mr. Douglass as an apt match for Elizabeth, even with his income of five thousand a year.

Into this interesting setting, Mr. Fowler was unexpectedly announced. Elizabeth was both relieved and upset at his appearance. She had concluded that she did not like Mr. Fowler. He was pleasant enough, to be sure, but his interest in her seemed to spring as much from a desire to compete with his friend Mr. Darcy as from any genuine inclination toward her. Elizabeth, however, welcomed Mr. Fowler as a distraction for both herself and her mother. Perhaps if Mr. Darcy did appear now, Mrs. Bennet would be too overwhelmed by the surfeit of eligible bachelors to pay him much attention. Elizabeth had to worry, however, that Mr. Fowler's presence might prove daunting to her elusive suitor.

"Mr. Fowler, may I introduce my mother, Mrs. Bennet, and my friends, Miss Crenshaw and Mr. Douglass. Mr. Fowler greeted Olivia with a gracious bow that instantly excited her distrust. Mr. Fowler and Mr. Douglass exchanged curt greetings before Mr. Douglass excused himself to return to his sister. Mrs. Bennet was a bit put out by Mr. Douglass' defection, and she would have followed him across the room had Mr. Gardiner not intercepted her and steered her in another direction.

"I must apologize for abandoning you last evening, Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth began sheepishly. "I suddenly remembered that I had Mr. Darcy's libretto and I wanted to return it to him while I had the chance."

"I see, Miss Bennet," Mr. Fowler replied in a tone that did not admit acceptance of her apology. His tone abruptly changed to become more pleasing. "Have you known Mr. Darcy very long?" Olivia eyed Mr. Fowler suspiciously as Elizabeth responded to his query.

"I have known him less than a year, sir."

"Really? I wonder that he has not ever mentioned you," Mr. Fowler smiled benignly.

"Mr. Darcy told me last evening that, until this week, he had not seen you in some three or four years, Mr. Fowler. I should think that a discussion of Mr. Darcy's recent acquaintances would be rendered virtually impossible by that circumstance," Elizabeth said calmly. Mr. Fowler smiled uneasily. He was not prepared for the sharpness of Elizabeth's wit.

"You have the right of it, Miss Bennet, of course. But I still think that Darcy would have hidden from you from me if he could."

"I would hope that he should not find such behavior necessary," Elizabeth smiled. "It would not likely reflect well upon either of us."

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Fowler was completely lost. Olivia found pleasure in his confusion.

"Such an action can only mean that he is embarrassed by one of us, or perhaps mistrusts the other." Elizabeth looked Mr. Fowler in the eye. "Do you think Mr. Darcy finds me embarrassing, Mr. Fowler?" Disarmed, annoyed, enchanted, and intrigued despite himself, Mr. Fowler could offer no response. Elizabeth was beginning to feel more herself. The morning was nearly over, and soon it would be too late for Mr. Darcy to call. Perhaps Mr. Bingley had successfully dissuaded him. Elizabeth wondered how he would react to being told to stay away, however, and her mind suddenly filled with unpleasant thoughts. Her fears began to return, especially when her mother chose that moment to rejoin the party at the window. Mrs. Bennet's interest in Mr. Fowler was piqued by Richard Crenshaw's revelation that Mr. Fowler enjoyed an income of eight thousand per annum.

"I had come here this morning hoping to persuade you to come out for a walk with me, Miss Bennet," Mr. Fowler said as he tried to recover his poise. Perhaps if he got her alone he could begin afresh and gain the upper hand.

"Oh, but she cannot go out with you this morning sir," Mrs. Bennet cried. "She has other guests, and her admirers," she said with a wink toward a bewildered Mr. Douglass, "Would hardly appreciate you absconding with their favorite."

"No...no, Mr. Fowler. My mother is correct. It would be impolite of me to leave when my aunt and uncle have so many guests to entertain." Walking out with Mr. Fowler was the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do. Mrs. Bennet suggested to Mr. Fowler that "if he was to come again at a more opportune time" she was certain that her "Lizzy would not be at all adverse to walking out with you." Pleased to have found an ally in his pursuit, Mr. Fowler welcomed Mrs. Bennet's efforts to coyly insinuate herself into his conversation with Elizabeth. As he predicted, Elizabeth quickly grew silent, and Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Fowler chatted amiably. Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and Olivia watched this odd display for some moments, until the doorbell rang yet again. When Mr. Bingley entered the parlor, Jane and Elizabeth looked at him expectantly. His smile told them that all was well. As the Crenshaws prepared to take their leave, Mr. Bingley wasted no time in suggesting that he take the Bennet sisters on a ride through the park. Fearing that Mrs. Bennet would insist on Mr. Fowler joining them, Elizabeth declined. Mr. Bingley whispered something into Jane's ear.

"Lizzy?" Jane asked a moment later. "Will you not reconsider? Mr. Bingley assures me that it is lovely outside and that there is much to be seen in the park," she said with a significant look. But Elizabeth was not paying attention.

"I have already declined Mr. Fowler's invitation to take a turn out of doors, and so I must decline Mr. Bingley's fine offer as well," Elizabeth said with a significant look of her own. Jane and Bingley exchanged glances and Mr. Bingley reluctantly took a seat beside his fiancée. Much to Elizabeth's surprise, however, Mr. Fowler left along with the Crenshaws, and calm was finally restored to the Gardiner's townhouse. Mrs. Bennet, satisfied with her morning's work, retired to her room, leaving Jane, Bingley and Elizabeth alone with the Gardiners.

"Miss Elizabeth, I spoke with Mr. Darcy this morning and was able to persuade him not to come to the house. However, he did agree to wait upon us in the park," Mr. Bingley said.

"Oh, dear!" Elizabeth exclaimed, jumping to her feet, followed quickly by the others. "Do you think he will still be there?" But as Mr. Bingley and Mr. Gardiner began to help Jane to her feet, Mrs. Bennet returned to the parlor carrying a bundle of fabric samples.

"Since we have the house to ourselves again," she smiled to the stunned gathering, "And Mr. Bingley, I quite consider you a member of the family already--I think we should use this time while Jane is laid up to discuss the wedding." Jane sat down again. Mr. Bingley sat, Mr. Gardiner sat, and Mrs. Bennet sat in the large armchair near Jane. Elizabeth remained standing, her hands clenched in tight fists.

"Now I think that we should begin with the bridesmaids..." Mrs. Bennet began as she rifled through her fabric scraps. Elizabeth turned and bolted from the room. She ran up to her room, ignoring her mother's demand that she return to look at fabrics. In the bedroom, Elizabeth threw herself on the bed and banged on it with her fists. After a moment she rolled over onto her back. Then she grew calm. Mr. Bingley had spoken to Mr. Darcy and all was well. If only she could get to him at the park...

• • •

Arriving at home, Olivia was delighted to find the Colonel in the parlor with her father. She greeted the Colonel with a spontaneous and warm hug, forgetting for the moment that they were not alone. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, spied the others smirking behind his intended and quickly extricated himself to greet his friends.

"Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed the younger Mr. Crenshaw. "I hear that you are about to join our family!" he said when everyone had settled. The Colonel gazed lovingly at Olivia and, lost in thought, did not bother to reply. "Does that happen often, father?" Richard Crenshaw asked.

"With astounding regularity. It got so Edward nearly canceled his own leave just so he could find someone to talk to." The sound of laughter distracted the two lovers, and they sheepishly rejoined the conversation. After a short while, Elise decided to go and check on her daughters, and on her cue her brother, husband, and father also found an excuse to give the happy couple some privacy. As soon as they were alone, Olivia launched into an account of what had transpired between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy at the theatre.

"I must say that I am pleased by this development. I knew that if they could just find a way begin they could soon put things right. But I do not like the idea of Fowler lurking about," the Colonel said as he accepted a cup of tea from Olivia.

"Do you know him?" she asked, taking a seat beside the Colonel.

"Not well. He was in Darcy's class at Cambridge, a year behind me. I know of him, though. Something of a ladies' man and a bit of a rake," he said distastefully.

"I would not worry about him on Elizabeth's account," Olivia reassured him, "But I am concerned about her and Mr. Darcy. Lizzy told me that he was to come to call on her this morning, but she had Mr. Bingley prevent him. I hope that Mrs. Bennet will not make it impossible for them to meet. Not when things were just beginning to go well." The Colonel put down the cup.

"Look, if Darcy is going to marry Miss Bennet someday, he is going to have to come to some understanding with Mrs. Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam began, but Olivia shook her head.

"You do not know Mrs. Bennet, Richard. 'Understanding' is not her forte, and she is no small part of the reason why Mr. Darcy did not wish to connect himself with Lizzy in the first place. If she were my mother, she would put even you off, and you are disposed to like everyone!" Colonel Fitzwilliam flashed his most endearing smile.

"There is not a creature on this earth that could put me off you, my love," he said as Olivia's heart melted. He stole a quick kiss and then abruptly rose and led her to the door.

"Where are we going?" Olivia cried as she stopped only long enough to reach for her bonnet, reticule and parasol.

"To find Darcy; I do not want him to lose hope before he has had a chance to win his prize." As soon as Olivia had tied the pale blue ribbon under her chin, the Colonel whisked her out of the house. It was a sunny, hot afternoon, and the couple decided to take the scenic route to _______ Street, through the park.

• • •

"Is that not Mr. Darcy?" Olivia asked a short while later, gazing toward the pond where Mr. Darcy sat on a bench reading. The couple cut across the lawn to reach him. As they strolled in his direction, they saw a woman approach Mr. Darcy and confront him, a piece of paper in her hand. They stopped and exchanged a quizzical glance before quickening their pace.

"Mr. Darcy! Should you not be at Gracechurch Street this morning?" Miss Bingley asked sarcastically. Mr. Darcy was startled out of his concentration on the page he was reading. He had been waiting for some time for Bingley and the ladies to appear, and had become lost in a book of poetry as he passed the time.

"Miss Bingley," he said rising. "Please forgive me. I was absorbed by Shakespeare and did not hear your approach." Mr. Darcy had not heard Miss Bingley's first remark clearly; he heard the words 'Gracechurch Street' but was uncertain of what was said about it. Miss Bingley smiled archly. She was happy to have caught him off guard and would use it to her advantage.

"When last we met, sir, I told you of a most distasteful rumor. You seemed to take it as a joke on my part. But I assure you, sir, it is no laughing matter. Miss Eliza Bennet and her sister Jane Bennet are trying to entrap you into marriage." She brandished the paper in her hand. "They are even trying to involve my own brother, your dearest friend, into their ungodly scheme." Mr. Darcy peered at the paper in Miss Bingley's hand but could not make out what it was. He had no reason to connect it with the note Mr. Bingley had spoken of earlier. He started to reach for it, but Miss Bingley drew the paper from his grasp in a casual way, as though she had not noticed his gesture.

"Miss Bingley, what are you about? Speak plainly," Mr. Darcy replied with exasperation. He was not so much interested in what Miss Bingley had to say as in the speed with which she said it. After all, if everything went well for Mr. Bingley at the Gardiners', he and the Bennet sisters might appear at any moment.

"They are trying to ruin your good name, Mr. Darcy. And I have half a mind to let them succeed. It would be a fitting revenge upon both you and Miss Eliza Bennet." Mr. Darcy could feel his blood beginning to boil.

"You have the audacity to threaten me, Miss Bingley? Why? Because your own pathetic schemes to trap me into marrying you have failed?" Mr. Darcy rose to his full height, which became even more imposing when he went to stand very close to Miss Bingley and spoke in a voice so low and menacing only she could hear him.

"Go ahead and do your worst, Miss Bingley. But you may be absolutely assured of two things: I love Elizabeth Bennet and will continue to do so until my dying breath, and that nothing on this earth could prevail upon me to feel anything more than the basest contempt for you." With that, Mr. Darcy backed away, and looked up to see Olivia and Colonel Fitzwilliam not three paces off. Miss Bingley followed his gaze, and seeing the approaching couple, she dropped the note and ran off. Olivia retrieved the note and tore it up without even looking at it.

"What was that all about?" the Colonel asked as he watched Miss Bingley scurry across the grass.

"Absolutely nothing at all, cousin," Mr. Darcy growled. He suddenly smiled, and offered a proper greeting to Olivia.

"It is very good to see you again, Miss Crenshaw. And may I wish you joy on your recent engagement to my cousin," he said with a glance in the Colonel's direction. Olivia graciously accepted the compliment before she told him what had happened at the Gardiners'.

"I am afraid that poor Lizzy was trapped; she could not come out to meet you, having refused Mr. Fowler. And had she been able to do so, she would have had to bring him along," Olivia explained as the trio sat on the bench by the pond. Mr. Darcy glanced at his cousin. They both knew what Mr. Fowler was capable of.

"Perhaps I should go to Gracechurch Street," Mr. Darcy said, rising from the bench. "I can cope with Mrs. Bennet," he said determinedly, "But I do not want Fowler ingratiating himself with Eliz--Miss Bennet." Olivia rose and held his arm.

"You need not worry about Lizzy, Mr. Darcy. She has no illusions about Mr. Fowler. And as for Mrs. Bennet, I believe that if nothing else happens to excite her she will soon calm down and go home. She has Jane's wedding to prepare for, after all." Colonel Fitzwilliam added weight to Olivia's argument.

"You have waited this long, you must simply be patient a bit longer, cousin."

"But I must speak with Miss Bennet. I have to know if I have a chance...if there is anything to wait for..." Mr. Darcy said petulantly. Olivia took his arm and she and the Colonel began leading Mr. Darcy toward his own home.

"If my assurances mean anything, Mr. Darcy, I believe that your forbearance will be well rewarded." She thought a minute, then added, "In fact, if you will be so good as to join us for dinner this evening, you will not have to wait very long at all." Mr. Darcy immediately brightened and accepted her invitation. Olivia made a mental note to send an invitation to Elizabeth as soon as she reached her home. As the trio took the familiar route out of the park, Olivia recalled the last time that they had taken that path together. She told Mr. Darcy the entire story of how she and Elizabeth had come to be in the park in the first place. "So you see, Mr. Darcy, I had this great notion that if we could just speak with Mr. Bingley...well, as it turned out, I was right," Olivia concluded with a laugh.

"Except that Miss Bennet got herself hopelessly lost, Darcy got himself injured, and Mr. Bingley found Miss Bennet completely by accident," Colonel Fitzwilliam deadpanned.

"Yes, but Mr. Bingley did speak with Jane that very day, and they have been inseparable ever since," Olivia retorted.

"Brilliant planning, Miss Crenshaw. I had no idea that you were an expert strategist. I am beginning to understand your attraction to her, Colonel Fitzwilliam." The men laughed while Olivia smirked indulgently. Mr. Darcy suddenly grew serious. "Perhaps I should engage you to figure out how to straighten out my own love life."

"Be careful what you ask for cousin," Colonel Fitzwilliam said as Olivia rapped him on the arm with the tip of her parasol. But the Colonel remembered Olivia's failed effort to bring the pair together. "Trust me. You and Miss Bennet do not need anyone's help, just patience." He ignored his fiancée's pointed look as he repeated his advice. The couple left Mr. Darcy in front of his townhouse and walked back toward the Crenshaw townhouse.

"So? I am suddenly useless at matchmaking, am I? Did you not come to beg my assistance with Mr. Darcy and Lizzy not two weeks ago?" Olivia accused her chuckling companion.

"And did you not nearly ruin things by inviting Miss Bennet to town just as Darcy decided to go to Netherfield?"

"It would appear to me, dearest," Olivia said with a slight edge to her voice, "That my decision to invite Lizzy to town was a wise one, given that Mr. Darcy's appearance at Netherfield led her to flee Hertfordshire." Colonel Fitzwilliam opened his mouth with a well-aimed retort, then thought better of it. He drew Olivia closer to his side.

"My love, you are a wonderful matchmaker. Through your efforts, Mr. Bingley and Jane have been reunited and you and I have found a happiness together that I never dared to hope for. But I do not believe that Darcy and Miss Bennet need your help any longer. You can bring them together, but they have to find their own way after that. And, if Darcy loves Miss Bennet half as much as I do you," He said as he slipped an arm about her waist, "There will be three wedding for our friends to attend this year."

• • •

Mr. Darcy entered his house and repaired to his study. He poured out a brandy and stared at the clock. He had four hours before he was expected at the Crenshaws. He leaned back in the soft armchair. Maybe Miss Crenshaw is correct. All it takes is a simple notion and the will to carry it out. Mr. Darcy stretched out his long legs and thought. After a quarter of an hour, an idea came to him, and he went to his desk and drew out a sheet of paper. Some two hours later, Mr. Darcy heard a knock at his door. Mr. Harris came in and announced his aunt, Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam. Mr. Darcy rose and warmly welcomed her. He offered her a chair and a glass of sherry and, warning her of his forthcoming dinner engagement in an hour and a half, sat down to talk.

"I was certain that I would be intruding upon your time, but I could not resist taking an opportunity to visit with my favorite nephew."

"And I am glad to see you, Aunt Rebecca," Mr. Darcy said. Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam, mother of the Colonel, was like a second mother to Mr. Darcy. She had been in the country since the start of the warm weather, and only her son's engagement had persuaded her to abandon her estate and come to town. They began by getting caught up on family news. Mr. Darcy asked after his sister and learned that she would be arriving in town in two days to attend her cousin's engagement party. Lady Rebecca waxed poetically over Georgiana's progress in her art and music lessons for several minutes before startling Mr. Darcy by asking how he was faring with Miss Bennet.

"What do you know of Miss Bennet?" he asked.

"I am neither deaf, dumb, nor blind, dear. Richard first mentioned Miss Bennet to me some months ago, and you spoke of little else but Miss Bennet while you were visiting with us last month." Mr. Darcy blushed. He had not realized that he had been so unguarded. He gave his aunt a brief account of his entire history with Elizabeth, and concluded with his hope of seeing her at dinner that very night.

"I have to agree with Richard. After so many mistakes and miscues, patience is called for at this stage. However, I agree with Miss Crenshaw as well. You could use a helping hand." Mrs. Fitzwilliam rose and went to the desk. "I have met the girl on several occasions, but I cannot say I know her well. I do, however, think we are going to get on famously," Lady Rebecca added as she drew out a sheet of paper and added the Bennets, Gardiners and Bingleys to her guest list for her son's engagement party. Mr. Darcy thanked her as he escorted her to the door.

"Remember, Fitzwilliam," Lady Rebecca said as she gazed into his eyes. "If she is worth having at all, she is worth waiting for. Now," she said, kissing him on the cheek, "Go and dress for dinner." Mr. Darcy smiled all the way upstairs to his chambers. Then, remembering his forgotten project, he turned back and called for Mr. Harris from the top of the stairs. The butler appeared instantly.

"Sir?"

"I left something on my desk in the study. Take care of it, would you?"

"With pleasure, sir," was Mr. Harris' reply. With a nod of thanks, Mr. Darcy disappeared into his chambers and prepared for his bath.

• • •

It was hours before Elizabeth slipped downstairs again. She made her way into her uncle's study, where her uncle offered her a glass of Madeira before she curled up with a book. Her uncle had dozed off before long, and Elizabeth started to leave the room when she was met at the door by a maid.

"This just came for you, Miss," the maid said with a curtsey before excused herself.

"What is it?" Mr. Gardiner asked as he roused himself. Elizabeth's smile was reassuring.

"I have been invited to dinner at the Crenshaw's. May I go, Uncle?"

"I do not see why not." He drew out his watch. "It is growing late. I will order the carriage while you go and prepare yourself." A half hour later, Elizabeth descended the stairs. She was glad to have a reason to leave the house, an excuse to avoid her mother. Mrs. Bennet had doggedly pursued her to her room and demanded that she select fabric for her bridal attire. Elizabeth complied simply to be rid of her mother, but Mrs. Bennet remained with Elizabeth for over an hour fretting on minute and irrelevant details. She had been avoiding her mother ever since; she had not even told her Mrs. Bennet of her dinner plans.

"You look lovely, dear," Mrs. Gardiner said as she emerged from the parlor. Mrs. Bennet came down the stairs behind her second born.

"Yes, you do look lovely, child. I am certain that Mr. Fowler will be pleased." Elizabeth turned to look at her mother.

"Mr. Fowler? Mama, I am dining with the Crenshaws tonight. Olivia's note said it was to be a simple family dinner. I do not believe that Mr. Fowler is invited." Mrs. Bennet's face became red.

"The Crenshaws? You most certainly are not dining with the Crenshaws this evening. I forbid it. I have invited Mr. Fowler to dine with us this evening--did I not sister?--and he has most graciously accepted. This is meant as a compliment to you, Lizzy, and I will not hear of you dining with the Crenshaws!" Elizabeth's mouth fell open. She looked at her aunt, whose face belied the truth. Mrs. Bennet had taken the liberty of inviting Mr. Fowler to dinner and only informed Mrs. Gardiner of the deed after he had accepted. Elizabeth looked at her uncle. He nodded to Elizabeth.

"Fanny, I gave Lizzy permission to dine with the Crenshaws this evening. It is too late for her to refuse the invitation now. Go on, Lizzy, the carriage is waiting for you." Elizabeth kissed her uncle and turned to leave.

"Wait right there, Miss Lizzy Bennet! I am your mother and I insist that you stay and dine with Mr. Fowler!" Elizabeth turned back and stared at her mother defiantly.

"He is your guest, Mama, not mine. You stay and dine with him!" Elizabeth raced to the carriage. As it pulled away, Elizabeth sat back and sighed. Maybe coming to London had not been a good idea after all. Had she stayed in Hertfordshire and spoken to Mr. Darcy--. But there was nothing to be gained in dwelling on the past. All she could do now is look forward to a quiet, pleasant evening among her friends, a turbulent and painful return to the Gardiners, and--if she was lucky--another chance to see Mr. Darcy on the morrow.

Nine

—

"Do not worry yourself, Lizzy. You know we never stand on ceremony here, and besides, our other guest is even later than you are," Olivia said with a sly smile.

"Another guest? Your note said nothing about--."

"I need not tell you everything, need I?" Olivia seated herself on the settee next to Elise. Elizabeth claimed a chair close by as she began to explain the reason for her late arrival.

"You would not believe what I was subjected to while trying to leave the house this evening," Elizabeth began. She glanced at Elise and then quickly moderated her tone.

"Mama was not at all pleased that I came out tonight," she said more calmly. Elizabeth was about to take a seat when she heard the sound of men's voices in the hall.

"Darcy! At last! I thought I might starve to death awaiting your arrival," Colonel Fitzwilliam was heard to exclaim.

"Well, I hope you do not, for it would weigh very heavily on your mother's conscience. It was she who delayed me," Mr. Darcy said with a laugh. Elizabeth froze, her eyes fixed upon Olivia. Olivia smiled and nodded. Elizabeth rose to her full height and turned away from the door as it was opened. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she struggled to regain her composure.

"It would pain my dear Mama greatly to learn that you have abused her so abominably to her own son," the Colonel retorted. But Mr. Darcy was no longer listening. He had seen Elizabeth, or rather sensed Elizabeth's presence. He did not trust himself to look in her direction just yet. He knew that once he did, he would be unable to concentrate his attention on anything or anyone else. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam led the male contingent of the party into the parlor, where Mr. Darcy greeted Elise and Olivia. He turned to face Elizabeth just as she regained her composure and turned toward him.

"Miss Bennet! We meet again. I seem to have been blessed with extraordinary good luck this week," Mr. Darcy said as he glanced meaningfully at Olivia and smiled.

"You are too kind, sir," Elizabeth managed, extending a trembling hand. Behind her, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Olivia exchanged smiles. Mr. Crenshaw suggested that the party adjourn to the dining room. Mr. Darcy offered to escort Elizabeth and she happily accepted his offer. To no one's surprise, Mr. Darcy claimed the seat beside Elizabeth at the table. When the soup had been served, Elise reminded Elizabeth that she had not finished her explanation of why she was late. Elizabeth blushed.

"Oh, it was really nothing important," she dodged, unwilling to tell the whole story in Mr. Darcy's presence. Invoking Mr. Fowler's name under the present circumstances was out of the question. "I failed to inform my mother of Olivia's invitation and she was quite put out when I left." Olivia looked at Elizabeth and knew that there was more to the story. But she chose not to press the matter.

"So both you and Mr. Darcy were delayed by the untimely intervention of a mother," Olivia suggested. The Colonel nudged her lightly.

"Hey there! You would do well to remember that one of those mothers you are speaking of is shortly to become your own."

"And I cannot wait," Olivia said with a loving look at the Colonel that made both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, who were directly opposite the couple, smile.

"Have you met Lady Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth asked Olivia.

"Yes, we have been acquainted for years, however, it is only a formal acquaintance. I do so look forward to getting to know the Colonel's family. He says that we shall all get along famously," Olivia said with another smile meant only for the Colonel's eyes.

"You are already well liked by the part of the family that has come to know you, Miss Crenshaw, and Aunt Rebecca is well disposed to think very highly of you," Mr. Darcy said graciously. "But then, she would be disposed to like anyone who would condescend to marry her youngest," he added with a smirk for his cousin. Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy strangely. She was surprised by his open and easy manners, which she had last witnessed in the spring. His good humor lasted throughout the dinner. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, and Richard Crenshaw exchanged stories about their childhood pranks and the trouble they often got into. Never had Elizabeth enjoyed herself so much in Mr. Darcy's company. She found herself hoping that the evening was not some figment of her imagination, or a cruel dream. The meal was over too soon for Elizabeth, and the men retreated to the library for port. Olivia grabbed the Colonel by the arm as he headed for the door.

"I beg of you, Richard. Do not allow father to cajole you into staying in there half the night. Things are going well for them, and I do not want to see them separated for too long." The Colonel solemnly promised to bring the men back in record time, extracted a kiss from his fiancée in payment, and with a wink for the other ladies, disappeared.

"What was that all about?" Elise wondered aloud as the ladies retired to the parlor.

"Oh, nothing," Olivia said airily, as she led the way into the room. Elise, of course, was too wise in the ways of the world to believe her. She had been closely observing Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy since their arrival and had already come to a few conclusions. She also strongly suspected that Olivia and the Colonel were inexplicably trying to orchestrate the courtship of the other pair, though they seemed to be in no need of assistance. Elise looked at Elizabeth, who looked as radiant and happy as she was pale and miserable when she saw her that morning. There was a mystery here, and it had something to do with Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Fowler.

"Miss Bennet," asked, Elise. "Have you known Mr. Darcy very long?"

"We met not quite a year ago," Elizabeth replied.

"And he is a friend of Mr. Fowler's is he not? I believe I heard Mr. Fowler mention Mr. Darcy's name this morning," Elise maintained. Elizabeth's sigh told her all she needed, but Elizabeth spoke nonetheless.

"I believe the two men were at Cambridge together." Olivia, fearing that the men might return at any moment, steered the subject away from Mr. Fowler.

"I met Mr. Darcy in the park this afternoon, Lizzy, quite by accident," she said with a gleam in her eye. "He, the Colonel, and I got to reminiscing about that day in the park last March." Elizabeth's face registered her surprise.

"Elise, Lizzy and I can claim responsibility for Jane and Mr. Bingley's engagement," Olivia continued. "You see, they had had a misunderstanding and Lizzy and I decided to--."

"You decided!" Elizabeth cried, shaking her head in denial.

"We decided to go and give Mr. Bingley a piece of our minds."

"Dear me!" said Elise. "What happened?"

"I got lost, Mr. Darcy got injured, and Mr. Bingley actually came to my rescue, quite by accident," declared Elizabeth through her laughter.

"Strange--that is how my intended remembers it," Olivia murmured.

"Is that not what happened?" asked Elise.

"I prefer to remember that before the day was out, Mr. Bingley and Jane had been reunited," Olivia sniffed.

"How did Mr. Darcy get injured?" Elise asked.

"He walked into a tree while staring at Lizzy," Olivia said simply.

"Livy!" Elizabeth cried.

"It is true. I saw him...well, I practically saw him. One moment he was walking ahead of me; I looked away for a second, and when I looked back, he was on the ground calling out her name."

"Livy!" Elizabeth gasped as she colored. At precisely that moment the door opened and the men entered the room. Olivia and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, each hoping the men had not heard their topic of conversation. As the men came in, Edward sought a position from which he might observe Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. His curiosity about the pair had been piqued by Elizabeth's cryptic comment at the Gardiners' a week earlier and he was determined to learn the truth. After coffee was poured and the group exchanged small talk, the card table was pulled out and all the Crenshaw men and Mr. Douglass played at whist, while Elise asked Richard and Olivia about their plans for settling down. Elizabeth sat a little aloof from the trio, and Mr. Darcy came to sit beside her as Edward discreetly observed the pair.

"You do not play at cards tonight, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked by way of an opening.

"I have not the mind for cards tonight, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy replied. He hesitated a moment. "I must apologize, Miss Bennet, for breaking my promise to call upon you this morning."

"Nay, sir, it is entirely my fault," Elizabeth replied in a low voice. "I am the one who prevented you. I must confess," she said sheepishly," I sat this morning in constant fear of your appearance."

"Would it have been so awful if I had come?" Mr. Darcy asked softly. Elizabeth blushed.

"I...I am afraid there has been a dreadful misunderstanding--."

"About the handkerchief, yes, Bingley mentioned it to me." Elizabeth blushed even more deeply. What had Jane written to Mr. Bingley? Elizabeth thought that she should try to explain what happened.

"Yes. When you were so kind as to return my grandmother's perfume vial--."

"Then I was correct in thinking it an heirloom?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth said softly. "It was left to me by Grandmother Bennet, whom I was named for. I had opened the parcel and was about to read your note when I was interrupted. I stuffed the handkerchief, along with the letter under the bedding. When Mama had my bed turned out last week, she found the handkerchief. I guess I forgot about it," Elizabeth lied. She was not ready to confess that she had slept for the past month with Mr. Darcy's handkerchief under her pillow, or that he had played a prominent role in every dream she had had since she left Kent. She stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, who looked worried.

"And the note? Your mother--." Elizabeth quickly reassured him that her mother had not found the note.

"But you did not read it," he said in a whisper. Had Elizabeth found the courage to look into his eyes, the sadness in them would have broken her heart.

"I did read it, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth whispered back, her eyes lowered so that Mr. Darcy could only see her lashes resting upon her rosy cheeks. "And I have preserved it in a secure place." Mr. Darcy was silent for a minute as he repeated over and over in his head her last words. She had read his letter! What is more, she had deemed it worthy of saving, worthy of a second reading. He would only allow himself to draw one happy conclusion: he had been forgiven. Elizabeth had cared enough to hear him out, and when she had done, she had cared enough to respect, if not reciprocate, his feelings. Mr. Darcy was rendered mute by a rush of thoughts that momentarily overwhelmed his senses. Elizabeth watched him, wondering what was going through his head. She glanced across the room and realized that she and Mr. Darcy were being observed, not only by Olivia and Colonel Fitzwilliam, but also by Elise and Edward. Elizabeth squirmed under the scrutiny, startling Mr. Darcy out of his reverie, and he, too, became discomfited by the earnest gaze of four pairs of eyes.

Olivia decided to relieve the tension by opening the pianoforte and asking Elizabeth to play. Elizabeth, glad of the diversion, agreed with unaccustomed alacrity. Mr. Darcy sat spellbound as she performed a brief instrumental piece. When she had done, Mr. Darcy was caught off guard by the enthusiastic response of Mr. Douglass, who had been fairly quiet all evening. Elizabeth asked Mr. Douglass to join her in a second number, and Mr. Darcy tried to suppress a pang of jealousy as Mr. Douglass took command of the keyboard and played a lively duet. His rich tenor matched perfectly with her less polished but lovely voice. When the song was over, Mr. Darcy thought that he had lost Elizabeth's company for the remainder of the evening. But to his surprise, Mr. Douglass escorted Elizabeth back to her seat by Mr. Darcy and retreated.

"Are you unwell, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked. "You look upset," she said innocently. Mr. Darcy apologized and admitted to being deep in thought. "A parlor full of people enjoying an evening's entertainment is hardly a place to inspire deep thoughts, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said archly.

"Perhaps not," he replied, and broached an entirely new subject. "So are all men banished from your mother's presence while she is town?" Mr. Darcy tried to sound jocular and light, but knew that he was less than convincing.

"If it were up to me, yes. However, I seem to have little control over who comes to call upon my aunt and uncle," Elizabeth said, trying to match Mr. Darcy's tone.

"You managed to stop me easily enough," Mr. Darcy said a bit more harshly than he intended. Elizabeth reddened as she carefully responded.

"Yes. But I rarely have so persuasive an ambassador as Mr. Bingley at my disposal, nor can I credit many of my friends with being as solicitous and respectful of my wishes as you are, sir." Mr. Darcy seemed to be mollified, but Elizabeth hastily added, "It was not that I did not wish to see you, Mr. Darcy. I only wished to spare you the indignity of my mother's scrutiny."

"And did Mr. Fowler survive your mother's scrutiny?" Mr. Darcy asked before he could stop himself. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise.

"How did you...?"

"I met Fitzwilliam and Miss Crenshaw in the park. They told me that you and your sister were unable to join me there because Mr. Fowler had paid you a visit," Mr. Darcy said, as he eyes lowered to hide his shame. Elizabeth groaned inwardly, wishing that Mr. Darcy had not heard of Mr. Fowler's visit. This was the last thing they needed now! She sighed heavily and looked down.

"Mother took quite a liking to Mr. Fowler I am afraid," she said, a tiny smile forming on her lips. She looked deeply into Mr. Darcy's eyes so that there would be no further misunderstanding. "I was very glad she was there to entertain him." The clock struck the hour, and Elizabeth announced that she must leave.

"May I offer you a ride in my carriage?" Mr. Darcy asked, rising with her.

"My uncle has promised to send his own carriage for me, but I thank you." Elizabeth made her apologies to her hosts and bade everyone farewell. Mr. Darcy also took his leave of the Crenshaws and offered to escort Elizabeth to her uncle's carriage, which had pulled up outside the elegant townhouse. The couple stepped out into the cool night air.

"I suppose the Crenshaws will think us terribly rude. We barely spoke to anyone else this evening," Mr. Darcy said with a laugh.

"I very much doubt that they would be so severe upon us. The Crenshaws are dear friends to us both, according to what Colonel Fitzwilliam told me, and they know enough of our history to forgive our slight breech of etiquette," Elizabeth said as they made their way down the steps to the waiting carriage. The coachman stepped forward to open the door, but Mr. Darcy stayed him with a hand and he discretely retreated out of earshot.

"Miss Bennet, when will I see you again?" Elizabeth opened her mouth but had no ready answer. She did not yet know that she was to be invited to the Fitzwilliam's engagement dinner, but that was several days away yet, and Mr. Darcy was unwilling to wait that long to see her again.

"Will you not permit me to call on upon you in Gracechurch Street?"

"My mother...." Mr. Darcy shook his head. "She is likely to...." Mr. Darcy smiled and Elizabeth capitulated. "You may come, then, but do not say that you were not given fair warning." Elizabeth's eyes met Mr. Darcy's as he bent over her hand before helping her into her carriage. No more words were spoken. The pair just stared at each other for a moment, then Mr. Darcy stepped back and the carriage pulled away.

When Mr. Darcy reached his home, he headed straight to his study, summoning Mr. Harris as he went. The footman scurried off in search of the butler. A few moments later, Mr. Harris knocked on the study's door, which Mr. Darcy had left slightly ajar.

"Good evening, sir. I trust your dinner engagement was a pleasant one?"

"Yes, Mr. Harris, quite," Mr. Darcy said abstractedly as he put his seal to a note he had just written. "Uh, did you attend to the matter I asked you to earlier?"

"Yes sir. May I pour you a brandy, sir?"

"No, Mr. Harris. I have had a splendid evening and I do not want to dull my memory of it." Mr. Darcy pushed the note toward the front of the desk. "Have a footman take this around to Mr. Bingley first thing in the morning."

"Very good, sir. Will there be anything else this evening, sir?"

"No, old man. I think I will just select a good book, and them I am for my bed." Mr. Darcy rose and patted Mr. Harris on the shoulder as he walked past him toward the wall of mahogany bookshelves. Mr. Harris bowed and disappeared. A few minutes later, Mr. Darcy followed him out of the room and sought his rest.

Elizabeth arrived home to find her aunt and uncle in the parlor with her mother. Mrs. Bennet rose as she entered and immediately began to torment Elizabeth with descriptions of her evening with Mr. Fowler.

"Mr. Fowler was most disappointed that you were not here this evening. But I gave him my assurance that you would be home tomorrow when he promised to call again." Mrs. Bennet went on praising Mr. Fowler, describing the elegance of his attire, his wit and intelligence, and his taste in food, music, art, and theatre. Elizabeth looked at the Gardiners, who shrugged helplessly.

"Did you have a pleasant time at the Crenshaws', Lizzy?" Mr. Gardiner asked as soon as he found an opening. Before Elizabeth could say more than "yes," Mrs. Bennet assaulted her anew.

"I do not know why you spend so much time with the Crenshaws. They can do nothing for you, Lizzy."

"Mama! The Crenshaws are my friends, and the Gardiners' friends of many years!"

"Yes, yes, but we must think about the future, Lizzy. You are not getting any younger, you know. Even Charlotte Lucas found a husband, and she is six years older than you and very plain..." she prattled on. "Edward Crenshaw is younger than you, is he not?"

"Edward and I are the same age, and what does that have to do with--."

"Well, he is only a younger son, anyway. You can do much better."

"Mother! You do not really expect me to--."

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet cried suddenly, "Yes, of course, there is Mr. Douglass. He is a bit more mature and very handsome. What is his income? No matter, I am sure that Mr. Fowler's income quite exceeds it. Lizzy, you would be a fool to settle for a lesser man, even if Mr. Douglass is so much more handsome. Mr. Fowler can hardly be called unattractive, mind you." Elizabeth glanced at her aunt and uncle once more. She started to speak, but her mother unceremoniously dismissed her to her bed, so that she would be in her best looks for Mr. Fowler in the morning. Elizabeth numbly ascended the stairs, and entered the bedroom where Jane was combing her hair.

"How was your evening with the Crenshaws?" she asked as Elizabeth flung herself on the bed.

"Did Mama really invite Mr. Fowler tomorrow?" she said, her eyes on the ceiling.

"Yes. He was quite upset when he found out that you were not going to be here. For a moment I thought he might leave, but Mama persuaded him to stay with the promise of being rewarded with your presence tomorrow."

"How thoughtful of her," Elizabeth said bitterly. She sat up and began to undo her dress. "I wish I had stayed in Hertfordshire. I would never have heard of Mr. Fowler."

"Oh, he is not so bad, Lizzy, once you get to know him. His manners are quite pleasing and he has excellent opinions on music, art, and--."

"So does Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said as she tossed her dress on an empty chair. "Why did I not just take your advice and go talk to him at Netherfield? I would never have met Mr. Fowler, mother would never have found Mr. Darcy's handkerchief...and I would not be faced with the prospect of entertaining two men tomorrow morning." Elizabeth smiled ironically. "I hope it does not become a habit."

"Lizzy?" Elizabeth sat on the bed beside her sister.

"Mr. Darcy also dined at the Crenshaws this evening. Livy and the Colonel arranged it somehow." Jane leaned closer as Elizabeth became lost in the memory.

"And?" Jane demanded.

"And it would have been perfect had it not been for three things. First and foremost, the evening ended all too soon," Elizabeth said with a sly smile. "Second, Mama spoiled everything by inviting Mr. Fowler to return tomorrow."

"And the third?" Jane prodded, as she began to comb Elizabeth's hair.

"I am afraid that Mr. Darcy is rather jealous of his friend. He knew that Mr. Fowler had come this morning and he seemed very put out over it." Jane smiled impishly.

"Good! Maybe that is just the incentive he needs to declare himself!"

"Or just the incentive he needs to go running back to Derbyshire. Oh, Jane! This is all so maddening! This is a comedy of errors worthy of the Bard himself! How will it end?"

"Perhaps it is 'much ado about nothing'? " Jane replied. Elizabeth threw a pillow at her. "Lizzy, your course would appear to be simple: tomorrow make it perfectly clear to both Mr. Fowler and Mr. Darcy where your preference lies."

"And Mama?" Elizabeth asked, as she rose to blow out the candles on the vanity.

"You have me there," Jane conceded. "But once Mama knows your feelings...."

"When has she ever shown any indication of--."? Elizabeth sprang out of bed and relit the candle. She dug into her drawer in the tall bureau and drew out her writing materials.

"What are you doing, Lizzy?"

"Mama may understand nothing of my feelings, but I know who does," she responded, as she began to write a letter to her father.

• • •

Mr. Bingley arrived at Mr. Darcy's townhouse very early the next morning. He joined Mr. Darcy in the breakfast room and helped himself to a cup of steaming coffee while a footman filled his plate. When the footman was gone, Mr. Bingley sought to satisfy his curiosity.

"So, what is this about receiving an invitation to the Gardiners'?" he began as he sliced into his sausage.

"I had the good fortune to dine with Miss Bennet last night at the Crenshaws' and she invited me to come round this morning," Mr. Darcy said as he tucked into his own plate.

"Were you with the Gardiners last evening?"

"No. I spent the evening trying to talk Caroline out of joining the Hursts on the Continent. I do not know what came over her, but she suddenly expressed an urgent desire to quit London and go to Italy. I tried to talk her out of it but she was quite adamant about leaving as soon as possible." Mr. Bingley sat back and sighed. "I guess I am to have neither of my sisters at my wedding." Mr. Darcy was very surprised by the news but he said nothing.

"So tell me about your evening with the Crenshaws. How was it?" asked Mr. Bingley, who was not one to dwell on his own problems. He leaned toward Mr. Darcy expectantly. Mr. Darcy said nothing for a moment. He merely smiled, and Mr. Bingley joined him, remembering how he had felt when he had been reunited with Jane and began to dream of a future by her side.

"It was quite...pleasant," Mr. Darcy said with an enigmatic smile.

"Pleasant! Come on, man, you are positively beaming! It must have been more than merely 'pleasant.'" Mr. Bingley cried.

"Well, productive, then," Mr. Darcy added as he waved over a servant for a second helping.

"I have never thought of an evening in the company of a beautiful lady as 'productive,' Darcy. Stop being so bloody cryptic and tell me what happened!" Mr. Bingley challenged. Mr. Darcy sat back and recounted the evening, even including his jealous frustration with Mr. Fowler and Mr. Douglass.

"Why it even makes me jealous to think that you, who can virtually come and go as he pleases in Gracechurch Street, can see her almost at will," he declared, rising from his seat and pacing before Mr. Bingley.

"Well there is only one thing for it, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said airily. "Marry her!"

"Bingley that is exactly what I intend to do!" Darcy maintained. "I would ask her this minute if I could be certain that she would have me," he said in a much lower voice that conveyed all his doubts and insecurity.

"Darcy," Mr. Bingley said, as he rose and put a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "Why is it that you are the only person in Christendom who doubts Miss Elizabeth's feelings for you?"

"Then you think that she does love me?" Mr. Darcy asked hopefully. Mr. Bingley threw back his head and laugh. "I am only slightly less sure that the sun will rise upon the morrow," he said, and he led his friend toward the door. As they made their way to Mr. Bingley's carriage, a servant strode up to Mr. Darcy and handed him a letter. Mr. Darcy quickly perused its contents, and with a smile of satisfaction, excused himself to return to the house for a few minutes. Inside, he gave precise instructions to Mr. Harris before he stepped into Mr. Bingley's barouche and headed for Gracechurch Street.

Elizabeth dressed with special care and descended to the breakfast room where she knew she would have a private moment with her aunt and uncle. Jane had also risen early, but her sore ankle would delay her progress, so Elizabeth took advantage of the opportunity to seek out her relatives' advice. She greeted them each with a hug and kiss before joining them at table.

"How was your evening at the Crenshaws', dear?" Mrs. Gardiner asked as she poured out a cup of chocolate for her niece.

"It was wonderful, Aunt Gardiner. Livy invited Mr. Darcy to dine with them as well." Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged smiles.

"So you have seen the gentleman at last," Mr. Gardiner said.

"Yes, and I have invited him to call on us this morning," she confessed. "Of course, that was before I knew that Mama had also invited Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth said as she spread jam on a biscuit.

"They are friends are they not?" Mrs. Gardiner asked naively. Mr. Gardiner, however, understood the problem.

"Mr. Darcy's regard for you is not so tenuous that he would be put off by this upstart Fowler?" he asked with some concern.

"I am not sure how 'tenuous' Mr. Darcy's regard for me is, and uncle, and I am unlikely to find out if my mother is here simpering and fawning over her precious Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth replied heatedly. "I am afraid Mr. Darcy and my mother have never got on well, and she is unlikely to make any effort to see good in Mr. Darcy while she has Mr. Fowler in her sights." Mrs. Gardiner sighed. "Jane said that I should leave Mr. Darcy in absolutely no doubt of my feelings," Elizabeth continued, staring into her empty cup. Mrs. Gardiner rose to refill it. "But I am not completely sure what my own feelings are."

"Are you not?" Mrs. Gardiner asked softly as she resumed her seat. Mr. Gardiner glanced at his wife.

"Well, you do know your heart where Mr. Fowler is concerned. You would be well advised to leave Mr. Fowler in no doubt, if you take my meaning."

"My thoughts exactly, brother," Mrs. Bennet cried from the door where she had overheard his last statement. "I think you should pay heed to your uncle's advice, Lizzy," she said. "A gentleman suitor should be left in absolutely no doubt of where his lady's affections lie." A crooked, ironic smile suffused Elizabeth's face.

"If you insist, Mama."

An hour later found the ladies of the house chiefly occupied with women's work. Mrs. Gardiner worked on a piece of tatted lace, and Elizabeth and Jane embroidered handkerchiefs. Mrs. Bennet was far too flustered by the prospect of Mr. Fowler's arrival to put her time to constructive use. She had picked up and thrown down her knitting twice, and had finally given up all pretense of concentration in favor of pacing back and forth before the windows. She suddenly sputtered and began to scurry about the room excitedly.

"He is here, he is here, Lizzy! The carriage just pulled up outside. Now, I want you to be as pleasant and as encouraging as you possibly can," Mrs. Bennet demanded breathlessly. "Eight thousand pounds a year," she whispered to herself as she picked up her knitting and assumed a pose of absolute indifference to the sound of approaching footsteps. Elizabeth looked at Jane and Mrs. Gardiner and sighed deeply. The door opened and Mr. Bingley, followed by Mr. Darcy, entered.

"Good morning ladies," Mr. Bingley said with a bow. Elizabeth and Jane suppressed a giggle, for their mother's disappointment was blatantly obvious, although nothing compared with her shock at spying Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, it is just you, Mr. Bingley." She barely spared a glance for the tall man. "Mr. Darcy," she spat. Mrs. Gardiner rose and welcomed Mr. Darcy with all the grace and cordiality that was in her nature. Elizabeth also rose, and following her mother's advice to leave her suitor in no doubt of her affections, she smiled warmly and invited Mr. Darcy to sit beside her. Mr. Darcy paused by Jane to ask about the condition of her ankle before he took the seat next to her in the window. Mrs. Gardiner poured him a cup of tea, and Elizabeth had just begun to chat with him, when Mrs. Bennet interrupted.

"We did not know you were in town, Mr. Darcy." Mr. Darcy replied that he had arrived in town just after Miss Bennet; in fact, he had met the Gardiners and Miss Bennet at the theatre just recently. Having silenced Mrs. Bennet for the moment, Elizabeth attempted to continue her conversation, when Mrs. Bennet interrupted again.

"Lizzy is expecting a caller this morning, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet said in hopes of hastening his departure. "You perhaps know Mr. Fowler?"

"Yes, I do," Mr. Darcy said tightly.

"Mr. Fowler has been paying my daughter most particular attention. He seems quite taken with her," Mrs. Bennet smiled. Elizabeth looked worriedly at Mr. Darcy.

"That does not surprise me in the least, Mrs. Bennet, with such a charming and amiable daughter as yours." Elizabeth's smile lit up the room. The warmth with which Mr. Darcy praised Elizabeth surprised Mrs. Bennet, but she soon regained her stride.

"Mr. Fowler came to dine here last night, but Lizzy insisted on going to dinner at the Crenshaws. Mr. Fowler was most disappointed. But Lizzy has promised to be here to receive Mr. Fowler's attentions this morning, and we expect him at any moment." She looked at Mr. Darcy pointedly. Across the room, Jane and Mr. Bingley exchanged worried glances. But Mrs. Gardiner spoke up first to ease the tension.

"Mr. Darcy actually introduced us to Mr. Fowler, Fanny," she began, casting about for aught else to say.

"Oh, then we have you to thank, Mr. Darcy, for Lizzy's good fortune in attracting such a fine man." Elizabeth glanced down at Mr. Darcy's hand and saw his knuckles turn white. She attempted to disarm him with a laugh.

"Mama, you are behaving as though Mr. Fowler is a beau; I assure you, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fowler means far more to my mother than he will ever be to me." She searched his eyes for a sign of understanding, and seeing it flickering deep in his dark brooding eyes, she smiled and allowed herself to breathe again. A look of horror grazed her mother's face momentarily, but as quickly as it had come upon her it was gone. She instantly assumed that Elizabeth was joking. "I understand that your sister is to come to town for Colonel Fitzwilliam and Olivia's engagement dinner," Elizabeth said quickly, lest her mother intervened again. "You spoke of her so warmly at Netherfield and in Kent. Do you think that we might have a chance to meet while she is in town?" Elizabeth blushed, realizing that she was openly begging for an invitation, but she did not care. She was determined to follow her mother's instructions to the letter. Mr. Darcy would know where he stood with her before he left that day, regardless of what it cost her.

"As a matter of fact, Miss Bennet, my sister Georgiana has expressed a similar interest in meeting you. I hope you will permit me to introduce her to you at Colonel Fitzwilliam's engagement dinner," Mr. Darcy smiled.

"Oh, but I--."

"Your invitations should arrive today," Mr. Darcy said to the whole room. "Aunt Rebecca added your names to her guest list the moment she arrived in town." Elizabeth beamed.

"An engagement dinner...hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam, you say," Mrs. Bennet said abstractedly, visions of social opportunities danced in her head.

"It is Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, Mama. Colonel Fitzwilliam is the son of the Earl of Matlock," Elizabeth corrected her. Mrs. Bennet immediately seized upon this bit of information. Everyone else in the room instinctively cringed.

"An earl? Really! Leave it to Olivia Crenshaw to capture the affections of a future earl. Very ambitious, that girl..." Mrs. Bennet muttered.

"Mama!" Jane and Elizabeth cried simultaneously.

"My cousin is the younger son, madam," Mr. Darcy said evenly with forced calmness. He was nearing the end of his patience. He continued to find it inconceivable that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet shared blood with the infuriating woman.

"So Olivia's fiancé is your cousin," Mrs. Bennet said calculatingly.

"I explained this all to you when I told first you of Livy's engagement," Lizzy said be fore her mother could speculate on the number of connections such an alliance could bring her girls. "I told you that I had met Colonel Fitzwilliam in Kent--."

"Yes and you obviously frittered away your opportunity to secure him," Mrs. Bennet huffed. Elizabeth's eyes bulged open.

"The Colonel was already quite in love with Olivia, Mother," she cried, "and I had already..." She caught herself before she openly declared her love for Mr. Darcy, but Jane and Mrs. Gardiner knew what Elizabeth held back, even if neither Mr. Darcy nor Mrs. Bennet did. Mr. Bingley all but cried out "Aha!" He contented himself with a large and triumphant grin that Jane's hard nudge could not dislodge. The sound of voices in the hall spared Elizabeth the stares that turned her face crimson. Mr. Darcy's look was merely of curiosity, but Elizabeth could not meet his eyes. The door to the parlor opened and Mr. Fowler entered the room with Mr. Gardiner.

"Look who I met as I returned from my walk," Mr. Gardiner said. Mr. Fowler came forward and greeted everyone. Mrs. Bennet was effusive in her welcome. Mr. Fowler greeted Mr. Darcy somewhat like a fox caught among the sheep, and Mr. Darcy gave him no quarter. He resumed his seat beside Elizabeth, much to her relief, with a proprietary demeanor. Mr. Gardiner claimed the nearest seat on Elizabeth's other side before Mr. Fowler was aware of its availability. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy easily fell into conversation, Elizabeth joining in upon occasion. Mr. Darcy felt at ease with the gentleman, and understood that he and Mrs. Gardiner had been strong influences on Elizabeth and Jane. Mr. Fowler, meanwhile, was forced to sit near Mrs. Bennet, much to his chagrin. She once again fawned and fussed over him, praising his every opinion. Mr. Fowler kept his focus on Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, until noticing his distraction, Mrs. Bennet rose and approached them.

"You are being very rude, Mr. Darcy, holding Lizzy prisoner here while she has other guests to entertain. Come, Lizzy," she demanded, tugging at her hand. Elizabeth reluctantly rose and was made to sit in a chair closer to Mr. Fowler. But even as he paid her his addresses, Mr. Fowler's eyes were on Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy's eyes were upon Elizabeth's. Elizabeth's eyes flitted about, to Jane and Mr. Bingley, to her aunt, her uncle; she looked at everyone and everything in the room except Mr. Fowler, Mr. Darcy and her mother until, summoning her courage, Elizabeth lifted her eyes to Mr. Darcy and held them there. When Mr. Fowler saw Mr. Darcy smile, he looked at Elizabeth and knew he would lose this fight. Mrs. Bennet, however, was very displeased by her daughter's continued staring at Mr. Darcy.

"Lizzy!" she cried. "It is rude to stare," she whispered so that only Elizabeth and Mr. Fowler could hear her. "I know you have always disliked Mr. Darcy but do not always stare at him so. I believe the man takes perverse pleasure in it. I dare say it suits his vanity." Mr. Fowler smiled.

"I thought that you and Mr. Darcy were friends, Miss Bennet," he said, his spirits rallying.

"We are very good friends, indeed, Mr. Fowler. My mother is greatly mistaken in saying that I dislike him. We did not get along well when we first met, but we have become good friends these last few months since we learned to understand each other," she said her eyes twinkling. Elizabeth heard her mother's hiss of disapproval. But Mrs. Bennet thought it unwise to insult Mr. Darcy in front of Mr. Fowler.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, had seen enough to reassure him. Mr. Fowler could not separate him from Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet, of course, would continue to be a thorn in his side, but she was an opportunity cost he was willing to bear in order to have Elizabeth by his side. Mr. Darcy rose to take his leave, much to Elizabeth's consternation, and her mother's delight.

"I am afraid I must take my leave. I have a matter of business I must attend to," he said. He thanked Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner for their hospitality and Mrs. Gardiner expressed her hope that he would soon return as a dinner guest.

"I should be delighted, madam, sir," he said with a bow. Elizabeth rose and offered her hand. Mr. Darcy's smile stilled the fluttering in her heart.

"I look forward to seeing you this Saturday, Miss Bennet," he said. Elizabeth returned the smile and whispered that she also looked forward to the evening. Mrs. Bennet was aghast by her daughter's apparent intimacy with the accursed Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy! D! It could not, it must not be! No, it is Mr. Douglass, and she merely wants to deceive me. My Lizzy would have nothing whatsoever to do with that conceited, odious man! As quickly as the notion arose in her mind she had dismissed it as an utter impossibility.

Mr. Bingley and Jane called Elizabeth over to involve her in some debate about their wedding arrangements. The talk of weddings excited Mrs. Bennet's interest.

"I do love a wedding, Mr. Fowler, such gaiety, such happiness! And you know what they say: one wedding begets another!" Her meaning was all too obvious and the ladies in the room, save Mrs. Bennet blushed in embarrassment. Mr. Fowler beat a hasty retreat as soon as propriety permitted.

"Oh, it is a shame he had to leave so soon, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said consolingly to Elizabeth, who was only too glad to see him leave, "And without an indication of when he is likely to return. Lizzy you must make a point of being home every morning in future, lest Mr. Fowler appear unexpectedly and miss you. It would be tragic to waste such an opportunity."

"I doubt that I shall have any such 'opportunity,' Mama. We are to return to Longbourn soon, or have you forgotten," she said, hoping that her father's letter would soon summon them all home, or at the very least, Mrs. Bennet.

"Oh, well we shall have to invite Mr. Fowler to the wedding, Jane. Mr. Bingley, you could give him lodgings at Netherfield. That way he will have ample opportunity to be among the family, and who knows? Perhaps there will be a second wedding for me to plan." Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and went up to her room. She lay on the bed and remembered Mr. Darcy's glowing compliment and the look in his eyes as he departed. Elizabeth had accomplished her mission. She had left Mr. Darcy in no doubt of her affections, and in doing so, she was no longer in any doubt of her own.

• • •

Elizabeth was in her room reading when she heard a knock upon the door. It opened to reveal the elder of her two nephews, who poked his head in and told her that her father wished to see her in her uncle's study. Elizabeth lifted her head from the pillow, certain that she had heard the boy incorrectly. She rose and hurried downstairs, her curiosity mounting as she approached the door. She could hear the voices of both her parents from within. Her father was indeed in London!

"Well there was no cause for you to come to London, Mr. Bennet, I am quite capable--." Mrs. Bennet was saying, but Mr. Bennet cut her off.

"No cause! You concocted the flimsiest excuse to leave Longbourn to rush to your daughter's side and when I simply express the desire to see my own child you say I have no reason?" Elizabeth covered her mouth in horror. She had rarely heard her father raise his voice, but he was clearly livid, although Elizabeth knew not about what. She held her breath, attempting to hear more. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but the situation was too extraordinary to resist. How had her father come to be in town? She had written to him only yesterday to beg his assistance in dealing with her mother, but it was impossible that he had received her letter in so short a time, or that he could have traveled from Longbourn even if he had. No, something dreadful must have happened in Hertfordshire to make her father come to town so unexpectedly. Elizabeth suddenly began to fear for her sisters' health and well-being. These past two weeks she had been so consumed in dealing with her own problems to even write to Mary, Kitty, or Lydia. Now one of them might be seriously ill or worse....

"Mr. Bennet! If you would just leave this all to me, I will manage everything. There was no need to come to town and involve yourself in this, this...sordid business."

"What 'sordid business' are you speaking of, Mrs. Bennet?" The sound of a chair being dragged out muffled Mrs. Bennet's words momentarily.

"Why did you come to town, then?" Mr. Bennet said in a calmer tone.

"Very well, Mr. Bennet, if you must know the truth. I came to town because I was worried about Lizzy." Even from outside of the room, Elizabeth could hear Mr. Bennet's gasp.

"Why should you be concerned for Lizzy?" he asked.

"She ran away from home, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet cried as though speaking to an idiot. "Surely you could understand a mother's concern."

"Lizzy did not 'run away,' Mrs. Bennet. She merely left home on a planned trip a day early," her father said wearily.

"But why, Mr. Bennet, why? I am afraid your dear girl has gotten herself into some trouble," Mrs. Bennet exclaimed dramatically. Elizabeth sighed.

"Errant nonsense! I would sooner believe that of Lydia or Kitty, even Mary before I would believe such an accusation of my Lizzy!" Mr. Bennet declared.

"Of course, you would defend your favorite. But you do not know what I do, Mr. Bennet. I know it all. I had hoped to spare you the truth about your Lizzy, but--."

"Oh, where is that girl!" Mr. Bennet shouted in exasperation. He was tired from his journey and had no interest in his wife's blatherings. He had come to town to see his daughter and if there were any truths to be learned, he would hear them from her. Before Elizabeth could react, the door flew open, and Elizabeth found herself face to face with Mr. Bennet. He opened his arms and she rushed into his embrace.

Ten

—

"Mr. Bennet!" Mr. Darcy called out in surprise.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet replied evenly, with a tip of his hat.

"I did not know that you were...forgive my manners, sir. Pray walk into the house with me." Moments later, the two men settled into large comfortable chairs in Mr. Darcy's study. Mr. Harris poured out two cups of tea and departed.

"When did you arrive in town, Mr. Bennet? Mr. Darcy began.

"Last evening, sir. I was so fortunate as to be able to ride into town with a friend who was coming here on business, else I would have had to ride the post this morning. I am afraid my own equipage is currently being repaired. Had I waited for it to be mended, I might not have arrived for another week."

"I did not know that you intended to come to London, Mr. Bennet," Mr. Darcy said a bit nervously.

"Nor did I, but I realized that I could be of little use to my daughter from Longbourn," Mr. Bennet intoned. Mr. Darcy hesitated a moment, but Mr. Bennet volunteered no more.

"You did receive my letter," Mr. Darcy assayed.

"Letter!" Mr. Bennet cried, rising and carrying his cup as he began to perambulate around the room. "Letter? That thing read like some ladies' novel, and it was not much shorter." Mr. Darcy smiled, and absently ran a hand through his hair.

"I wanted you to know everything--."

"That much was obvious," Mr. Bennet countered, laying his cup and saucer aside. "What I want to know is what you want me to do about it!"

• • •

"Look at these, Lizzy. If you put a few of those little flowers in your hair you will look exquisite," Olivia said. She and Lizzy were at the notions counter at Harley's examining the goods on display.

"Not if they exceed my budget. Poverty has a way of draining the color from my cheeks," Elizabeth laughed. Olivia had the salesman show them a sprig of lavender flowers that perfectly complemented the gown Elizabeth planned to wear on Saturday night. Olivia insisted on making a gift of them, and after she made her purchase they left the shop headed back towards Gracechurch Street. Olivia's servant walked a few paces behind, carrying a large box containing the gown in which she would be presented to her future relations.

"So what reason did your father give for arriving in town so unexpectedly?" Olivia asked as she eyed the display of nonpareils in the window of a confectioner's shop.

"He said he wanted to see his two eldest daughters, but he was being evasive. I think that there is something afoot." The two ladies walked on in silence for the length of one street.

"So when will you see Mr. Darcy again?" Olivia asked.

"Not until your engagement dinner," Elizabeth said as she dug into her reticule in search of her handkerchief. She found it and dabbed the corner of her eye to remove a speck of dust that had made it water.

"Are you certain of that, Lizzy?" Olivia asked. Elizabeth was intent on putting away her handkerchief, and merely answered, "Hmm?" as she turned to her friend. She looked up then and saw an open carriage bearing the Darcy crest roll by. Its occupants could be plainly seen, although they did not appear to notice either of the ladies observing them. Elizabeth was shocked, to put it mildly. Olivia was merely curious.

"Where do you suppose they are going?" she asked.

"They are headed in the direction of Gracechurch Street, but I think the far more interesting question is where have they been!" Elizabeth said as she picked up her pace to keep the carriage in sight. As she expected, the carriage came to a stop outside the Gardiner's home. When Olivia and Elizabeth caught up with it some minutes later, its occupants had disappeared, apparently into the house. Olivia and Elizabeth entered the parlor just in time to catch the tail end of Mr. Darcy's explanation.

"...And much to my surprise, I encountered Mr. Bennet this morning while I was returning home after my morning constitutional," Mr. Darcy was saying.

"So I invited Mr. Darcy to join me for lunch at my club, and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to Gracechurch Street," Mr. Bennet said as he and Mr. Darcy stood side by side before the mantelpiece, looking as innocent as a pair of newborn babes, but both Olivia and Elizabeth were suspicious. The two ladies exchanged a glance; how is it likely that these two men should meet out on a morning walk? Mr. Darcy's home was some distance from Gracechurch Street. No, the coincidence was too neat. The ladies stepped further into the parlor, where they saw that the two men were addressing Mrs. Bennet, who looked none too pleased with the prospect of another visit with Mr. Darcy. Olivia feigned a cough to get Mr. Darcy's attention. Elizabeth blushed slightly as she came forward to greet him.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. This is a most unexpected pleasure. I had not thought to see you again until Saturday." Mr. Darcy's flustered repetition of the story he and Mr. Bennet had just recently told convinced the ladies that the gentlemen had completely fabricated the story. Mr. Darcy's expression delighted Olivia, and she recalled that day when she first saw him smile. It was that day in the park when she had first learned of his attachment. She greeted Mr. Darcy with a sly twinkle in her eye.

"I understood that Mr. Bingley was coming by today," Mr. Bennet said. "Has he absconded with my eldest?" Mrs. Bennet, in sour spirits reported that Jane and Mr. Bingley were in the conservatory. "Good, good. Why don't you young people go and join them? I have some business to attend to, and your rattling about here will just try poor Mrs. Bennet's nerves," he said with a wink. The three all looked at Mr. Bennet, then Elizabeth led the group to the conservatory. She could not observe Mr. Darcy as she went, since she was in the lead, but Olivia surreptitiously observed Mr. Darcy from the corner of her eye and was amused at the rapt attention he paid to the lazy curl that bounced about haphazardly at the nape of Elizabeth's neck. Mr. Bennet meanwhile sought out Mr. Gardiner in his study. He entered the room and made directly to the window that overlooked the small conservatory that opened onto a tiny garden at the rear of the house.

"Ah, Thomas," said Mr. Gardiner, looking up from his paperwork, as Mr. Bennet shifted the curtain just enough to peek out and see Olivia, Elizabeth, and Mr. Darcy disrupt an intimate scene between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bennet chuckled. "Did you speak with Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Gardiner asked from his position at the desk.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Bennet said absently as he observed Jane's blush and Mr. Bingley's guilty expression. "You were right; the man is quite besotted with my Lizzy." Mr. Bennet sighed and went to the desk, where he claimed a nearby chair.

"And did the young man acquit himself to your satisfaction? Did he explain his letter?"

"Letter!" Mr. Bennet chuckled again. "Mrs. Radcliffe would give her right arm to be able to concoct such a plot! Five sheets back and front, brother! Between your letter and Mr. Darcy's, I do not know when I was last so well entertained. I am only sorry that I did not have the chance to read Lizzy's letter as well."

"You do not believe that she wrote of Mr. Darcy, do you?" Mr. Gardiner asked, laying aside his reading glasses.

"Perhaps not, but I wish she had all the same. I would like to know her mind on all this."

Mr. Gardiner rose and fetched a pot of tea from a nearby table. "Did you and Mr. Darcy reach an understanding, then?" he asked as he poured out a cup for himself and his brother.

"It is not me he needs to come to an understanding with," Mr. Bennet retorted. At Mr. Gardiner's frown, he added. "The poor boy put on quite a show, scraping and apologizing, and declaring his intent to make my Lizzy the happiest woman alive. Quite amusing," Mr. Bennet concluded as he sipped his tea. Mr. Gardiner gave him a reproachful look. "Oh, I gave the wretched creature my blessing, so long as Lizzy agrees to have him, Mr. Bennet admitted.

"And will she?"

"Mr. Darcy doe not seem to know. That is why I brought him here," he said, returning to the window. Mr. Gardiner followed. "I want to see them together."

• • •

Their kiss was hardly scandalous, but Jane and Mr. Bingley still blushed furiously when Elizabeth led Olivia and Mr. Darcy into the conservatory. The three could not suppress their smiles as the couple darted to opposite sides of the greenhouse.

"Miss Bennet!" Mr. Darcy cried with an impish grin. "I see your ankle is well recovered." Elizabeth immediately took pity on her sister and changed the subject, asking Mr. Darcy if he had an interest in gardening. Mr. Darcy responded by speaking of the extensive grounds at his home in Derbyshire. Elizabeth drew him slightly away from the others and suggested that they go out to the garden and sit under the shade of the large elm. Leaving the others to their discussion of their forthcoming nuptials, Elizabeth led Mr. Darcy down the steps and across the tiny yard to a wooden bench that sheltered the couple from the hot July sun. It was barely wide enough to seat two. Elizabeth turned with a smile and sat upon the bench, while Mr. Darcy chose to remain standing. Unaware that his every action was being observed by Elizabeth's father and uncle, Mr. Darcy was nonetheless conscious of the other pairs of eyes at his back. Olivia, Jane, and Mr. Bingley were sitting in the conservatory apparently absorbed in conversation. However, Mr. Darcy did not have to turn around to know that the trio was actually engrossed in what was taking place in the garden.

"Well, now that I have you all alone, Mr. Darcy, pray tell me what you and my father are about?" she smiled. Mr. Darcy started at her question, and then quickly repeated his earlier explanation, that the two had met by accident.

"Come, come, Mr. Darcy. You may deceive my poor dear mother, but you do not really expect me to believe such a tale," Elizabeth challenged.

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy asked, wide-eyed.

"Do not dissemble, sir. Do you really expect me to believe that you and my father--residing miles apart--just happened to find each other while out on a morning stroll, and that my father, who has the merest acquaintance with you, should invite you to dine at his club?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows accusingly. Mr. Darcy swallowed hard.

"Yes," he managed. Elizabeth rose and paced before Mr. Darcy, who instinctively leapt to his feet.

"'Disguise of any sort is my abhorrence,' you once said as I recall," Elizabeth said. She stopped pacing and took a step toward Mr. Darcy, who instinctively stepped backward, much to Elizabeth's amusement and to the amusement of the men above. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner exchanged a glance. They could not quite hear what was being said, but Elizabeth clearly had her suitor on the defensive. Below, Elizabeth crossed her arms. She was beginning to become frustrated by Mr. Darcy's stonewalling. She abruptly turned and started to head back toward the house, but she stopped when she heard Mr. Darcy's voice.

"I met your father outside my own house in ______ Street as I returned home from my morning walk." Elizabeth whirled. Mr. Darcy stepped back once more. "Perhaps he has a friend in the neighborhood," Mr. Darcy offered with a shrug.

"My father has no acquaintance in ______ Street!" Elizabeth said heatedly.

"Perhaps you would do better to question your father, then," Mr. Darcy said softly. Elizabeth saw the truth in his words and chastened, returned to her seat on the bench. Mr. Darcy joined her.

"Why did my father go to see you?" Elizabeth asked when she had fully regained her composure.

"I do not know," Mr. Darcy said, "But we spoke mainly of you." Elizabeth shot him a glance. "You must realize that we have few other interests in common, although we did discuss our mutual love of Shakespeare and Mozart, and the occasional pleasure to be found in a glass of fine Amontillado sherry." The dimple in his cheek told Elizabeth that she was being toyed with, and as she fought to suppress the smile that sprang to her lips. She found herself reluctant to press Mr. Darcy for further details. She could hardly expect an interview between her father and Mr. Darcy to go very well, given the difference in their personalities and Elizabeth's former propensity for speaking extremely ill of the man she was now so desperately in love with. Her heart began to pound in her chest. "I told him everything, Miss Bennet. Actually," Mr. Darcy confessed through a veil of long dark eyelashes, "I sent him an express a few days ago describing our entire history," Mr. Darcy said with flushed cheeks. Elizabeth was astounded.

"Whatever for?" Mr. Darcy grew redder.

"I thought that he should know the truth about me. I thought it only fair that he know something of the man who loves and values his daughter above all else in the world..." Elizabeth felt herself begin to swoon, but was saved by Mr. Darcy's untimely ironic laugh. She frowned at him, wishing he had not been distracted by whatever led him to abort his proposal. "I guess I had thought to win another ally in my cause. When Miss Crenshaw told me of how the two of you tried to fix things between Mr. Bingley and your sister, I vowed to follow your example." Elizabeth stared at him, uncomprehending.

"I do not have the pleasure of understanding you at all, Mr. Darcy," she said as Mr. Darcy plucked a flower from a nearby bush and proceeded to rend it to shreds. Both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stared at his hands as he attempted an explanation.

"Miss Bennet had you and Miss Crenshaw to act as intermediaries. I chose to rely upon Mr. Gardiner."

"My uncle!" Elizabeth cried.

"Yes. I ran into him in _____ Park the morning after we met at the theatre. I found myself confessing my feelings for you--and I hope you will forgive him--he told me of yours." It was Elizabeth's turn to blush.

"Seeing that we were of similar minds...and hearts," Mr. Darcy said, laying his hand over Elizabeth's, "I needed only the opportunity to make my addresses. Of course, you had forbidden me to come here that day, and I did not know when I would see you again. After I spoke with Fitzwilliam and Miss Crenshaw, and she told me of your adventures in the park that day, I decided to enlist Mr. Gardiner's aid. I went right home and wrote him a note. As an afterthought, I also decided to write to your father. After all, I would need his blessing, and I wanted to stake my claim, so to speak, before Mr. Fowler made his advances." Elizabeth smirked at him.

"You were jealous of Mr. Fowler?" she said, as if such a thing were ridiculous. As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Darcy concurred.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but Fowler and I have a history. He has always competed with me, coveting anything and everything I possessed. I did not mind losing a rare volume, or a magnificent horse, but I was not about to let him steal you away, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth lost herself in the deep, earnest gaze in his eyes, and might have kissed him then, had she not glimpsed her smiling relations in the window at the edge of her line of sight. She lowered her eyes then, but squeezed Mr. Darcy's hand. "We seem to have a choice before us. We could acknowledge the mistakes I made, and learn from them, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me," she heard Mr. Darcy say. "Or we could choose to put the past behind us and begin again, remembering only from this day forward." Elizabeth met his eyes, only to avert them again.

"We have both said and done things that we cannot be proud of, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said as she rose and walked to a place where she could see the window to her uncle's study without being seen herself. "Perhaps it would be best if we were to remember the past only as it gives us pleasure," she smiled, with another glance at the window as Mr. Darcy approached her. Elizabeth turned away from him, much to his consternation.

"We are hardly in a place that affords us much privacy, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth laughed, as a way of warning him. Mr. Darcy glanced back toward the conservatory, where Jane and Mr. Bingley quickly looked away and Olivia stared openly, beaming at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy tapped Elizabeth on her shoulder and pointed to Olivia, who waved at the couple. Elizabeth shook her head, laughing, and began to make her way back to the conservatory. Mr. Darcy gently grabbed her arm.

"Will you not do me the honor of hearing my proposal, Elizabeth? I believe I am finally capable of one that is worthy of you," Mr. Darcy said grinning.

"Your first proposal was quite enough for me, sir," Elizabeth grinned back, as she continued toward the house. "I think you should take a page from your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and play to your strengths, Mr. Darcy!"

"My strengths?" asked the perplexed bachelor.

"Yes. Look what it did for the Colonel," Elizabeth said archly.

"And what are my strengths, madam?" Mr. Darcy asked, hands on hips.

"The same as your cousin's," Elizabeth said, reaching for the door. "He is equally inept at proposing, but like you he has an irresistible charm, or so I am told." Elizabeth opened the door and entered, allowing it to close behind her while Mr. Darcy stood in the garden, a silly smile upon his lips. Inside, Olivia and Jane could be seen running to Elizabeth and hugging her. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes. It was then that he saw the beaming faces of the two men above.

"I am engaged!" was all Elizabeth had to say before the conservatory erupted in squeals of joy. Olivia and Jane ran to hug Elizabeth, while Mr. Bingley stepped into the garden and walked up to Mr. Darcy, who was still staring at the now empty window. Mr. Bingley tapped him on the shoulder.

"I say! Good show, Darcy!" Mr. Darcy turned and blinked at Mr. Bingley who pumped his hand and grinned like a hyena.

"She would not allow me to propose!" Mr. Darcy said, slightly affronted.

"She told us that she was engaged," Mr. Bingley said helpfully. Mr. Darcy allowed himself a genuine smile then, and allowed Mr. Bingley to escort him back to the house. When they entered the conservatory, the first thing Mr. Darcy saw was Mrs. Bennet, who was on the arm of Mr. Fowler.

"Look who has come to see you, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said smugly, with a look at Mr. Darcy. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to show Mr. Fowler around the garden," she continued, just as Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet entered the conservatory behind her.

Elizabeth glanced at her uncle and father and drew herself up to her full height. She walked over to Mr. Fowler and extended her hand. Mr. Darcy watched her, his teeth involuntarily clenched. Elizabeth gave Mr. Fowler her warmest smile.

"You have arrived just in time to join our celebration, Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth smiled.

"Celebration? What celebration?" Mrs. Bennet asked before Mr. Fowler could utter a reply.

"I was just coming to tell you, Mama," Elizabeth said, he eyes twinkling with tears. "Mr. Darcy and I have just become engaged." In the space of a second, Mrs. Bennet's mouth dropped open, Mr. Darcy's jaw relaxed, Mr. Fowler's sagged, and Mr. Gardiner's and Mr. Bennet's framed heartfelt smiles. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner came forward and hugged Elizabeth and shook hands with Mr. Darcy. The party adjourned back to the parlor, where Mr. Fowler begrudgingly congratulated Mr. Darcy and then hastily retreated. Mr. Gardiner ordered a bottle of champagne from his wine cellar. As it chilled, the couple fielded questions. Mrs. Bennet, who more than willing to sacrifice Mr. Fowler in favor of Mr. Darcy's ten thousand pound income, was as obsequious and obliging as she had formerly been rude. Mr. Darcy was in too good a humor to mind.

"How did he propose to you, Lizzy?" Jane asked, as she and Olivia pressed the third future bride for details.

"Propose? Oh, proposals are passé. Suffice to say," Elizabeth said with a sly glance at her beloved, "We thought we had rather better marry than not. After all, two people so ideally suited to one another could hardly be fit marriage partners for two other unsuspecting people. I would like to think we are doing the world a favor by marrying," she concluded airily. Mr. Darcy made a face at her, but when asked a similar question by Mrs. Bennet, he gave her an equally impertinent answer.

"Proposal? Good lord, I knew I had forgotten something!" He immediately rose, and taking Elizabeth by the hand, led her back out to the garden. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner laughed, as well as the others in the room, save for Mrs. Bennet, who was worried.

"Oh, dear," she said, rising and pacing the room. "Oh, dear. Jane, fetch me my salts. I feel faint! My nerves, oh, my poor dear nerves cannot take this anguish." Mr. Bennet went to his wife and led her to a chair. Mrs. Gardiner at that moment returned from her morning of charity work at a local hospital. When she saw Mrs. Bennet in such a frenzied state, she rushed to her side.

"Whatever is the matter, Mrs. Bennet?" she asked in a soothing tone.

"It is Lizzy! Oh, that girl will be the death of me yet!" Mr. Bennet patiently patted his wife's hand, while Jane brought the smelling salts.

"What about Lizzy?" Mrs. Gardiner asked with a look around the room at the others.

"Lizzy and Mr. Darcy have become engaged, Mrs. Gardiner," Olivia gleefully announced. Mrs. Gardiner clapped her hands together in joy.

"Do not be so hasty in your celebration, Mrs. Gardiner. Mr. Darcy, it seems, in his eagerness has forgotten to propose to Lizzy. And no doubt, just to vex me, the impudent girl will probably refuse him!"

• • •

"Where are you taking me?" Elizabeth laughed as Mr. Darcy led her down the corridor toward the conservatory. She nearly had to run to keep up with him. On a whim, Mr. Darcy poked his head into a room where the door had been left ajar. Finding it empty, he whisked Elizabeth inside and closed the door. He led Elizabeth over to the window of Mr. Gardiner's study and, taking both her hands in his, looked into her eyes. Elizabeth returned his smile for about half a minute, then her expression changed to one of confusion.

"Mr. Darcy? What?" Mr. Darcy seemed to be lost in his own world. Elizabeth was about to call him again when Mr. Darcy sighed deeply and spoke.

"I cannot believe how simple it was, in the end. Mr. Gardiner told me that it would be so, but I could not be persuaded to believe him."

"My uncle is a very clever man," Elizabeth said archly, although she was not quite sure what Mr. Darcy was talking about. "You should believe his every word."

"He told me that you loved me. Is that true, then?" Elizabeth ducked her head to hide her blush.

"It must be true. As I just told you, you should believe his every word." She looked into Mr. Darcy's eyes then to confirm her message.

"I would rather hear it from your lips, Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said, freeing one hand so that he could brush one finger lightly over mouth. "Or are you as proscribed from discussing your love for me as I am from discussing mine for you." Elizabeth laughed and walked over to the settee. Mr. Darcy joined her and took up her hands again.

"You are not forbidden from declaring your love, sir--only from proposing." Mr. Darcy nodded slowly, biting his lip.

"You have not answered my question," he said after a moment.

"No. I believe I am completely free to declare my love," Elizabeth said teasingly. She hesitated a moment, caught up in the significance of the moment. Mr. Darcy held his breath, and Elizabeth smiled at his apprehension. But before she answered her smile faded, and tears began to well up in her eyes. "I do love you. I love you so very much, more than even I imagined...." Elizabeth stared at their entwined hands and a single tear escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheek. Mr. Darcy again freed a hand to stop its progress with a finger. "I was too blind to know my feelings until I thought I had lost you forever. When I read your letter..." More tears began to flow. "After I read your letter I realized what I had been denying to myself all along. I thought...I--."

"Shh," said Mr. Darcy, as he placed a finger to Elizabeth's trembling lips. "I apologize, Elizabeth. We did agree to put the past behind us. This is too painful.... You have answered my question, and that is all I needed to hear." He lifted Elizabeth's chin, and would have kissed her if Mr. Gardiner had not entered the room. Mr. Darcy leapt up and stood some distance from the settee. Elizabeth rose slowly and went to her uncle. For a brief moment, the sight of tears alarmed him, but Elizabeth threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Excuse me. I thought you had returned to the conservatory," said Mr. Gardiner.

"Too many prying eyes," quipped Mr. Darcy.

"I understand that I have you to thank for our present happiness," she said as her uncle drew out a handkerchief and handed it to her. Mr. Gardiner glanced at Mr. Darcy and they exchanged smiles.

"I did what I could, Lizzy. It did not take very much, just a good shove in the right direction, eh, Mr. Darcy?"

"And did you also send for father?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, he came of his own volition. When you came to us and told us your story, I decided to write to your father. I hope you will forgive my indiscretion--I told him everything you had told us. He had been worried about you since your return from Kent. We had corresponded about you earlier, you see. After I chanced to meet Mr. Darcy at the theatre, I resolved to take action. I had a meeting with an acquaintance near Mr. Darcy's residence and on a whim I decided to call upon him in ______ Street. He was not at home, but I was informed that he had gone to the park. I sought him out there, and we had a long talk. I advised him to quit wasting time and get on with it," Elizabeth's uncle laughed with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes," Mr. Darcy said, coming forward. "Without your uncle's help I do not know how much longer I would have vacillated. After I spoke with my cousin and Miss Crenshaw, I began to grow more confident and I went home and wrote Mr. Gardiner to thank him for his assistance and to beg a private audience with you today. Instead of a reply from your uncle, however, I received a call from your father. We had a long talk, and after a luncheon at your father's club...well, you know the rest. I am greatly indebted to your uncle. I was getting nowhere on my own," Mr. Darcy confessed.

"On your own?" Olivia said, entering the room with Jane. "Hardly-your cousin, Mr. Bingley, Jane, and I have been trying to help the two of you individually and together since March!"

"Forgive the intrusion, Lizzy, but Mama wants to know if you have accepted Mr. Darcy's proposal." Elizabeth grinned at Mr. Darcy.

"It is amazing that I should wish to ally myself with a man of such faulty memory. He has still not proposed," she laughed.

"She told me not to!" Mr. Darcy cried defensively.

"Why not?" asked Jane.

"It is apparently not the forte of men of the Fitzwilliam line," Elizabeth said with a wink at her friend. Olivia laughed, while Mr. Gardiner and Jane exchanged quizzical expressions. Olivia took Mr. Gardiner and Jane by the hand and led them to the door.

"Give him one more chance, Lizzy. After all, my dear Colonel was given two tries before he gave up. You can do no less for Mr. Darcy." When the door closed behind Olivia and the couple was alone, Elizabeth turned and looked at Mr. Darcy with a wicked smile. A few minutes later, they returned to the parlor, where the others awaited expectantly.

"Well?" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Did you accept Mr. Darcy's proposal?"

"No," Elizabeth said, trying to hide her smile. Her mother's wail reverberated through the neighborhood so that she did not hear the rest of Elizabeth's statement. "But he accepted mine." When the laughter subsided, Elizabeth went to her mother and whispered in her ear. Her mother finally understood the joke and was able to join in the rejoicing. Mr. Gardiner opened the bottle of vintage champagne and toasted the happy couple.

• • •

Mr. Darcy could not stay very long after the assembled party toasted the happy couple with champagne. His sister Georgiana was to arrive in town, and he wanted to be at home to receive her.

"I cannot wait to tell Georgiana our news. I have spoken to her of you a great deal and I am sure she will be delighted to learn that you are to become her sister," Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth as he made his leave. He extended an invitation for everyone to dine with him the following evening--which was quickly accepted--and then, with a last loving look at Elizabeth, took his leave with Mr. Bingley, who was somewhat eager to return home to his own sister. Mr. Bingley still had hopes of convincing his sister Caroline to remain in London. He realized, however, that the news of Mr. Darcy's engagement to Elizabeth would in all likelihood decide things.

"She will not take it well," Mr. Bingley said to Mr. Darcy as the carriage turned off Gracechurch Street. "Although I daresay, she must have seen it coming. You have made no effort to hide your feelings for Miss Elizabeth for some time." Mr. Bingley grinned and said, half to himself, "And even when you did try to, you failed miserably." He expected some sort of retort from Mr. Darcy, but that man had not heard a single word his friend had uttered. His mind was much more agreeably engaged.

She is mine at last! Just a fortnight ago I would have believed it impossible. I was bereft of hope and the most wretched of beings. And today...today she said the words I never dared hope to hear. To think that she has loved me all this time...I hope I am now worthy of her. A jolt of the carriage crossing a rut in the road brought Mr. Darcy back to his surroundings. He discovered that Mr. Bingley was watching him with a tolerant grin.

"I know exactly what you are feeling, Darcy. The world is suddenly a very different place, is it not?"

"Well put, Bingley," he said, ducking his head. "Knowing now the joy of finally being united with someone whom I once thought lost to me...Charles, I feel even more remorse for my actions in separating you and Miss Bennet." Mr. Bingley reached across the carriage and offered his hand. Mr. Darcy took it a bit doubtfully.

"We will speak no more of it. Today marks the beginning of our future. What is past is no longer important."

"'Remember the past only as it gives you pleasure,' I think it goes," said Mr. Darcy sitting back in his seat. "An amazing woman told me that."

"Really?" said Mr. Bingley, his imagination titillated by his friend's confession. "Who was she?"

"Elizabeth Bennet," Mr. Darcy smiled, and slipped back into his dream-like state until he reached Mr. Bingley's door. After depositing Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy returned to his home where he learned that his sister and her companion, Mrs. Annesley, had already arrived. He found them in the rear parlor, having tea.

"Where have you been, Darcy?" cried Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had come out into the corridor at the sound of someone at the door. "You asked me to be here an hour ago!" Mr. Darcy did not answer him; he caught a glimpse of his sister behind the Colonel and went straight to her. After he shared a warm hug with his sister and received a more restrained greeting from Mrs. Annesley, Mr. Darcy was ready to disclose his news. He cleared his throat and waited until he had the attention of the others.

"I really must apologize for my tardiness. Fitzwilliam is right--I was planning to be here an hour ago. But I hope you will forgive me when I give you my reason." Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed his arms and leaned upon the mantle, observing his cousin's changed demeanor. Mr. Darcy was, for lack of a better word, radiant. But even the Colonel was surprised by his cousin's revelation. "This afternoon, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and I became engaged." Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled himself upright and rushed to embrace Mr. Darcy.

"This is wonderful news, Darcy! I could not be happier for you both! But how did it happen? When?" The Colonel was forced to retreat slightly so Georgiana could hug her brother with an equally effusive exclamation.

"Oh, Fitzwilliam! Is it true? I know how much you hoped...I was so eager for things to go well between you when you went to Hertfordshire. And now you are to marry! And I am to gain a sister at last!" Mrs. Annesley sat and smiled serenely as she surveyed the scene. Mr. Darcy could hardly speak for all the questions he was barraged with. He looked helplessly to Mrs. Annesley, who rose in her usual dignified manner and closed the distance between herself and the trio of happy people.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam? Miss Darcy? You might stand a better chance of hearing Mr. Darcy's story if you let the man speak," she smiled. Like two scolded children, the pair skulked over to the settee and sat down. Mrs. Annesley, however, stepped up to Mr. Darcy and placed a motherly kiss upon his cheek and wished him joy before retiring to her seat near the window. Mr. Darcy, a bit startled by her impulsive gesture, chuckled as he took the chair near her and told his tale. When he had done, he informed Georgiana that she would be hosting a dinner party for the Bennets and Gardiners next evening.

"You come, too, Fitzwilliam. I have invited Miss Crenshaw; we may as well have all the happy couples present," Mr. Darcy smiled

"I have never hosted a dinner party for strangers before, Fitzwilliam. I am not sure I am up to it," Georgiana said almost in a whisper. Mr. Darcy reached out and patted his sister's hand reassuringly.

"You will do fine. Mrs. Annesley and Cook will assist you in all the particulars. I am very eager for you and Elizabeth to meet and I thought that it might be easier to become acquainted here at home rather than at our aunt and uncle's dinner party in two days."

"If you insist, then brother. I will do everything in my power to make a good impression," Georgiana replied.

"Splendid! Now I do not know about you, but I am exhausted. Will you excuse me until it is time for dinner?" When Mr. Darcy left the room, Georgiana turned with wondering eyes to her cousin.

"Is it not wonderful? Fitzwilliam looks so happy."

"I daresay that news of this engagement will make many people happy, Georgiana. A great many people...."

• • •

One who would not be made happy by this news was sitting in her room sorting out her wardrobe when her brother knocked upon the door.

"May I come in, Caroline?" Mr. Bingley said, opening the door a crack.

"Yes, do come in, brother. Relieve me of this tedium." Mr. Bingley sat down on the only part of the bed not heaped with clothing.

"You would not be subjected to this tedium if you stayed in London, Caroline," he said gently. Miss Bingley looked up at her brother for the first time. The tone in his voice had surprised her. She had not until that point considered that her brother Charles might miss her when she left. She shook off the notion, however, and resolutely began sorting once more. Mr. Bingley sat and watched for a moment, letting his eyes take in the wide array of ensembles that seemed to be randomly strewn about.

"Good God, how long are you packing for Caroline?" he exclaimed. Instead of answering, his sister shot him a look of warning. Mr. Bingley was quiet for a moment, trying to assess his sister's mood. Realizing that there would be no good time to break his news, he decided to get it over with.

"I have some news, Caroline. You may find it unpleasant..." Mr. Bingley sought the right words.

"It concerns Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet, does it not?" she said without any show of emotion or concern.

"Yes...yes it does," replied Mr. Bingley, frowning. "How did you know?"

"He certainly wasted no time," Miss Bingley said, holding up a never-worn blue gown for inspection. Her eyes never saw the garment, however, as she discarded it without even looking up. After a moment, she stopped digging through the piles of clothing and sighed. "Mr. Darcy loves her. He will never love anyone else. He told me so." If Mr. Bingley was surprised by this revelation, he did not show it. He was too concerned for his sister's dull spirits.

"Is that why you want to leave London?"

"What is there for me to do here, Charles? Listen to my 'friends' snicker behind my back? Watch the two of you fawn and simper over your 'lovely' brides to be while I am made a laughing stock?" Miss Bingley did not deign to suppress the bitterness in her tone. She knew, however, that at least part of her anger was derived from self-reproach. She had failed miserably in her efforts to secure Mr. Darcy and her last desperate act had made the possibility of a civil relationship with Mr. Darcy nigh impossible.

"You can come back to Netherfield with me. Let people in town laugh if they want to. I care nothing about that. I do not like the idea of you traveling across the Continent alone to your sister, and you insist on leaving without securing a suitable traveling companion. And I had hoped...I hoped to have at least one of my sisters by my side when Jane and I married...Please reconsider, Caroline--for me, if not for yourself," Mr. Bingley pleaded. Miss Bingley looked into her brother's eyes.

"You do know that I was dead-set against your marriage to Jane Bennet and that I urged Mr. Darcy to interfere in your courtship?" she said, testing her brother's will.

"'Remember the past only as it gives you pleasure,'" Mr. Bingley murmured to himself as a smile came to his lips. Aloud he said, "You are my sister; no matter what you have done, you are priceless and irreplaceable to me. You will come to Netherfield and sit by my side at my wedding breakfast." Miss Bingley hugged her brother to her heart and took comfort in his staunch defense. She turned to look at the mess behind her.

"I suppose I have to have all of this put away, then," Miss Bingley laughed.

"All but one, my dear," Mr. Bingley said, picking up an elegant evening gown of gold silk. "You are going to a dinner tomorrow night at Mr. Darcy's townhouse."

• • •

As soon as it was possible to do so, Olivia and Jane extricated Elizabeth from the clutches of her ecstatic mother, and led her, much as Mr. Darcy had earlier, to the relative seclusion of Mr. Gardiner's study.

"Please, you must promise me that you will not ask me anything about Mr. Darcy's taste in foods, or about the décor of his townhouse, or the likelihood of my lace being finer than Miss Bingley's," Elizabeth laughed. "I have had quite enough of that for one day." The ladies deposited Elizabeth on the settee.

"Now, Lizzy. We want to hear every detail," demanded Olivia.

"Yes, Lizzy! Did you really propose to Mr. Darcy?" asked a dubious Jane.

"Of course I did." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "But you must never breathe a word of this to Mama. He did not actually say yes!" She looked into the shocked and curious faces of her companions and laughed.

"Every detail," repeated Olivia. Elizabeth sat back and smiled enigmatically.

"Very well. But truly, it must go no further than this room. You may not even tell your Mr. Bingley or your Colonel. Mr. Darcy might not wish for his friends to hear this tale," Elizabeth said with a stern look at each lady, who swore herself to complete silence.

"Well, when you left us alone, Mr. Darcy begged to be allowed to propose again....

"Dearest Elizabeth, will you not listen to my proposal? I have spent the better part of the last three months dreaming of the day when I might have the opportunity to ask for you hand again," pleaded Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth smiled indulgently.

"If it would make you happy, sir," she replied with a tinge of ennui in her voice. She sat down upon a chair and neatly arrayed her skirts about her, suppressing a smile. When she had done, she looked up at Mr. Darcy expectantly.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said, rubbing his hands nervously and coming to her side. Elizabeth squinted up at him.

"Are you thanking me listening to your proposal?" she asked as she shook her head, and still suppressing her smile, awaited Mr. Darcy's speech. But that man looked at her, slightly alarmed. Elizabeth raised her brows in question.

"You are not going to wear that...that face, are you?" he asked with a gesture towards her head.

"Is there a problem with my face, sir?" Elizabeth asked, raising a hand to her cheek. "I thought you were rather fond of it...." Mr. Darcy sensed that he was being teased.

"I meant...I am sorry...." Elizabeth placed her hands in her lap and turned her eyes to Mr. Darcy with an angelic expression.

"Pray continue, Mr. Darcy," she said.

"Perhaps you should call me Fitzwilliam."

"Pray continue, Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy silenced her with a look and took one of her hands in his.

"Elizabeth...Oh, I believe it is customary for the gentleman to kneel." Mr. Darcy began to do so, when Elizabeth stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"You did not kneel the first time," she offered.

"No...uh, no. I suppose I was too nervous," was Mr. Darcy's reply.

"Are you nervous now?" Elizabeth asked innocently, as she observed the beads of perspiration on his brow.

"Yes," he breathed, and Elizabeth once again had to suppress her urge to giggle.

"Then perhaps you had better stand. I would not wish to put you off your game, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said, emphasizing the name. Elizabeth was completely enchanted by Mr. Darcy's efforts to make the moment perfect and memorable, but the whole scene was unnerving to her. She really did not want to hear Mr. Darcy's proposal, fearing that it would evoke memories unpleasant to both of them. She had won Mr. Darcy's heart and he was to be hers forever. That was all that mattered to Elizabeth. She was willing to indulge Mr. Darcy's desire to propose; she just wished he would not take it so seriously.

But this proposal meant everything to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth's acceptance would mark the end of a very sad and disturbing chapter in their lives as well as a new beginning. He could not help being nervous. Although Elizabeth had apparently already agreed to marry him (and he could not remember her actually doing so), he feared in his soul that she might refuse him again. A frightened voice inside him told him that this would be the defining moment in his life. And now Elizabeth was laughing at him! Mr. Darcy turned away to compose himself. When he turned back after a few seconds, he found Elizabeth leaning over and wiping dried mud from the toe of her shoe. She looked up and caught Mr. Darcy's eye. The look of alarm she found there very nearly made her burst out laughing. She sat up and arranged her skirts once again. Mr. Darcy sighed deeply.

"My dearest Elizabeth, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," Mr. Darcy began.

"Excuse me," Elizabeth interrupted, this time without a smile, "But was that not your first proposal?" Mr. Darcy's eyes grew very wide.

"Well...uh, yes. I guess it was."

"You would want to do the second one, I think," Elizabeth replied evenly.

"But it still applies!" Mr. Darcy pleaded.

"Oh." Mr. Darcy cleared his throat.

"Almost from the first moment I--."

"Forgive me, Mr. Darcy--Fitzwilliam. But I have heard all of this before...."

"Yes, but...." Mr. Darcy sputtered.

"....And quite frankly it only brings to mind your first proposal, and well...perhaps it would be better if you moved along," Elizabeth said softly. Mr. Darcy understood, and was eager to comply.

"But do you not want me to tell you how much I love you?" he asked looking a bit despondent.

"Oh, yes, please!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her first real display of enthusiasm since Mr. Darcy began. He stood for a moment, obviously trying to remember what he had planned to say. After a moment he shrugged.

"I love you," Mr. Darcy said simply. Elizabeth's smile was radiant. "I love your eyes. I love the way your eyebrows move. I love your mouth, your hair...." Elizabeth erupted in gales of laughter. Mr. Darcy looked affronted.

"Forgive me Mr. Darcy...I mean Fitzwilliam. But it is too funny! Are you declaring your love or taking inventory of my parts?" she asked archly. Mr. Darcy knelt by her side and, resting his elbow on the armrest, he cupped his chin in his palm and smiled wickedly.

"I would love to inventory your parts!"

"Mr.--Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth blushed crimson. Having discomfited Elizabeth out of her teasing, Mr. Darcy rose and looked at her smugly.

"May I continue?" Elizabeth could only manage a nod.

"I love you, Elizabeth, more than anything in the world. I...I do not know how...I can live without you. I mean I cannot live without you," Mr. Darcy stammered. "Blast! Now I have gone and forgotten what I was about to say."

"You were about to propose marriage," Elizabeth replied, laughter welling up inside her once more.

"I know!" Mr. Darcy snapped. "I am sorry," he said softly, immediately feeling contrite.

"So am I, my love; please forgive me."

"Please marry me."

"That is your proposal?" Elizabeth cried, as Mr. Darcy threw up his hands and strode to the window. It had all seemed so simple when he was with her in the garden. The setting was perfect, the timing--all he lacked was privacy. What would have been so bad about a public proposal? It could be no worse than the private humiliation he was currently being subjected to. Elizabeth rose and followed Mr. Darcy to the window. She laid her cheek against his shoulder blade. Mr. Darcy did not acknowledge her. She reached for his hand and led him to the seat she had formerly occupied.

"Perhaps you had better let me handle this," she said smiling sweetly at Mr. Darcy, who was completely lost.

"Madam?"

"Mr. Dar...Fitzwilliam, we have known each other for some time now, and, as you know, our path to happiness has not been a smooth one." Elizabeth knelt before Mr. Darcy, who was so transfixed by the look in her eye he was unaware of what she was doing.

"After I received your letter, I realized for the first time what I meant to you. I also had to confront my own feelings, and I discovered that I loved you more than I ever thought imaginable." Mr. Darcy reached out then, and stroked Elizabeth's cheek. She took up his hand and turning it over kissed his palm. She clutched it to her heart.

"I learned that day, and have lived every moment since with the certain knowledge that your love is essential to my own existence. I have been as miserable these last few weeks as you have been, Fitzwilliam. My future happiness depends upon your willingness to spend the rest of your life by my side. Will you?" Mr. Darcy stared at Elizabeth, moved beyond words, beyond tears even, by the poignancy with which she had spoken. Elizabeth smiled reassuringly, and Mr. Darcy slowly came to his senses.

"Impressive...very impressive!" Elizabeth laughed.

"And your answer, Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy abruptly stood, pulling Elizabeth to her feet as he went.

"I would be a complete fool to reject such a proposal. But the man is supposed to do the proposing, Elizabeth, not the potential bride." Elizabeth placed her fists on her hips.

"Are you going to refuse me, then?" she challenged. Mr. Darcy swept Elizabeth into his arms.

"I am done being a fool, Elizabeth," he said, and sealed the bargain with a kiss.

"Oh my!" Olivia said, fanning herself.

Eleven

—

"So you finally proposed," the Colonel said, leaning back in his chair. Mr. Darcy winced as he took a seat near his cousin. His pride still stung from his failure to properly propose to Elizabeth. He did not regret accepting her proposal, of course. It was the thought that he had failed her a second time that gnawed at him.

"Darcy?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked when he caught Mr. Darcy's gesture. "Is everything all right?"

"It could not be better," Mr. Darcy said. "I would declare myself the happiest man alive, if I thought you not would contest my declaration." The Colonel smiled lazily. "When I left here this morning, I never imagined that the day would turn out as well as it did. When I spoke to you and Miss Crenshaw in the park, and with your mother later, you all advised me to be patient. I also spoke to Mr. Gardiner and he advised me to do just the opposite. In the end I discovered that you were both right.

"I had acted impetuously the first time I proposed to Elizabeth. I acted without once thinking about her, or whether she even cared for me, and paid a high price for my selfishness. But I have to admit, Mr. Gardiner's advice appealed to me even more. When I knew that she loved me, I did not want to waste one more moment. Mr. Bennet's visit this morning sealed my fate."

"I imagine that was an interesting interview," Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

"Yes," Mr. Darcy laughed, "Especially at the beginning. He really put me through it. Not that I could blame him, mind," he added as he stared into his swirling amber liquid in his snifter. "I had the temerity to ask for Elizabeth's hand after I had wounded her terribly, ruined another daughter's happiness, and insulted all his dearest relations. And I was brash enough to confess it all before asking for his blessing. It is a wonder he even considered my petition. I thought he had come to call me out."

"What did he say?" the Colonel asked as he rose and sought the decanter.

"Mr. Bennet asked me to account for my behavior. I repeated all that I had said in the letter and more. He finally asked me if I thought Elizabeth would ever have me. I told him that I did. He told me I had better go see her then, then."

"And so you went straight to Gracechurch Street and proposed." Mr. Darcy squirmed uneasily.

"Darcy?"

"Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy asked, "How did you propose to Miss Crenshaw?" Mr. Darcy watched as the Colonel sputtered and choked on his brandy.

"Why do you ask?" he replied, wiping his tearing eyes.

"Never mind," Mr. Darcy smiled.

• • •

"I will not, Charles! I simply will not go!" Miss Bingley cried, tossing down her napkin for emphasis. "That is final!"

"But Caroline," Mr. Bingley pleaded. The siblings had been arguing for some minutes about Miss Bingley's flat refusal to accompany him to Mr. Darcy's home for dinner.

"Charles, please! Let us not belabor the point," Miss Bingley cried, as she swept past him and headed up the stairs.

"Will you at least tell me why not?" Miss Bingley paused and turned. She returned to the parlor with Mr. Bingley in her wake and carefully closed the door behind her brother. She paced for a moment before speaking.

"I ...I said things. I was very angry and I said things to Mr. Darcy about himself and Eliza Bennet that I... I will not repeat what I said, but I know that it will be a long time before he will forgive me." Miss Bingley laughed ironically. "He...he may never forgive me."

"I am certain that you are exaggerating, Caroline. Darcy is not a mean or vindictive man. I am sure...."

"I do not exaggerate. I will stay home, Charles. I will not expose you to the humiliation...I doubt that Mr. Darcy will even allow me to enter his home." Overcome with emotion, and unwilling to be importuned any further, Miss Bingley rushed from the room. Her brother was left alone, bewildered and saddened.

• • •

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the parlor of the Crenshaw townhouse and was welcomed by Richard Crenshaw and Mr. Douglass. He joined the men while he awaited his fiancée, who was upstairs attending to the final touches of her ensemble.

"I hear that your cousin Darcy has become engaged to our Lizzy," said Richard.

"Our Lizzy?" the Colonel replied, accepting an offered seat. He immediately rose again as Olivia entered the parlor, followed by Elise Crenshaw. Olivia looked disdainfully at her brother.

"My brothers like to think of Lizzy as the sister they should have had. I was far too tame for their liking," she quipped as she accepted the Colonel's kiss on her hand.

"I somehow find that hard to believe," Colonel Fitzwilliam retorted.

"Mr. Darcy is to marry Miss Bennet? How delightful! When did this happen?" asked Elise, as she claimed a seat beside her husband.

"It happened yesterday. You were away from home last evening and I have been out of the house all day, so I have not had a chance to tell you. I assumed that my father would tell you."

"He only told me about it an hour ago," said Richard.

"I had no inkling that there was an attachment between them," added Mr. Douglass. For his trouble, he drew stares from all in the room. Olivia and Elise exchanged glances.

"Men," Olivia rolled her eyes, as she took the Colonel's arm and headed for the door, shaking her head as she went. The couple repaired to Mr. Darcy's carriage, which the Colonel had borrowed for the evening. As the carriage pulled away from the curb, Colonel Fitzwilliam sat back and smiled at his bride to be.

"I suppose you intend to take credit for Darcy and Miss Bennet's engagement?" Olivia laughed.

"No, no. After what Lizzy told me about the matter yesterday, I am inclined to give her all the glory. "

"Why? What did she tell you?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked; he was very curious to hear Miss Bennet's version of how the engagement came about.

"I am sworn to secrecy, beloved. I suppose you could ask your cousin," Olivia teased.

"I did," the Colonel pouted. "He evaded me the entire evening." Olivia laughed again. The pair rode on awhile in silence, enjoying the quiet summer evening. "Speaking of engagements, you and I should start thinking about setting a date."

"I thought you said that we would probably have to wait awhile," replied Olivia, referring to the delicate subject of the Colonel's finances. Although Olivia had received a handsome legacy from her grandmother, and stood to bring a more than respectable dowry to her marriage from her father, the Colonel was somewhat reluctant to marry until he was more certain of his own resources. While Olivia saw no reason for his apprehension, she nonetheless respected his desire to provide for his wife and family.

"There have been two very interesting developments that should permit us to marry almost immediately," the Colonel smiled. Olivia's eyes lit up at this news and she eagerly pressed him for details.

"Well, first of all, my father has made us a very generous gift of a tiny estate in northern Derbyshire. It is nothing more than a cottage really, on a few dozen acres of land with no real income to speak of, but it is completely self-sustaining. It came into my father's hands quite a while ago. He was trying to acquire a large parcel of land to the east of the property and he bought it simply to link the larger parcel of land to his own. He had leased it for many years to a family. The last of his tenants died recently and the cottage thus became available."

"Oh, Richard that is wonderful!" exclaimed Olivia. The Colonel looked into her eyes.

"Do you really think so? You have been accustomed to far finer lodgings, I think."

"I would happily live in a gypsy cart, so long as we are together, my love," Olivia declared.

"Well," Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. "Our future home is considerably grander than a gypsy cart, but it is no Crenshaw House," he admitted. But the look in Olivia's eyes told him that she truly did not mind.

"What is the other development?" Olivia asked as the carriage made its way onto ______ Street.

"Oh, I very nearly forgot," replied the Colonel. "I have received a letter from my aunt's solicitors, and one begrudging letter from my aunt herself."

"Your aunt Lady Catherine DeBourgh?" Olivia asked as the Colonel stepped down from the carriage and handed Olivia out.

"Yes," Colonel Fitzwilliam answered. "Perhaps we should discuss this inside. I want Darcy to hear of this." The couple entered the Darcy drawing room, where Mr. Darcy and his sister greeted them. Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted his young cousin with a kiss on her forehead.

"I believe you have met my fiancée, Georgiana," he said.

"Yes, of course, although it has been nearly a year since we last met," said Georgiana with a curtsey.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Darcy," Olivia smiled.

"You must call me Georgiana, since we are to be cousins. I was delighted when Richard told me that you and he were to be married. I will finally have a relation near to my own age."

"Thank you, Georgiana, and you must call me Olivia." The two ladies took seats together and began to chat. Mr. Darcy, meanwhile, approached the Colonel.

"I have had some very interesting correspondence, cousin," the Colonel said. "I was just about to tell Miss Crenshaw about it." At the sound of her name, Olivia looked up, as did Georgiana.

"What manner of correspondence?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"The first was a document from Aunt Catherine's solicitors, and the other was from the lady herself," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. Georgiana rose and came closer.

"Has something happened? We have not heard anything--." Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately laid her fears to rest.

"No, no, my dear. All is well at Rosings Park. Well, all was well...I had better begin at the beginning," the Colonel chuckled. "I received a letter from Aunt Catherine informing me--since I about to marry--that Uncle Lewis left me a legacy." Now it was Mr. Darcy's turn to interrupt.

"A legacy? I knew nothing of this," he said.

"According to Aunt Catherine, there was no need to inform me until now." The Colonel turned and directed his speech toward Olivia. "My uncle, Sir Lewis DeBourgh, looked upon me as the son he never had. Since Darcy here stood to inherit Pemberley, and my older brother, John, will inherit our father's titles and estate, Uncle Lewis decided to leave something in his will for my future well-being." Mr. Darcy exchanged looks with Georgiana.

"According to Aunt Catherine, Uncle Lewis left me an annuity of one thousand pounds per annum, to begin upon my marriage." Olivia's face registered surprise, as did Georgiana's. Mr. Darcy, however, merely looked intrigued. "Naturally, Aunt Catherine found this sufficient provocation for investigating Miss Crenshaw's background and reputation the moment she learned of our betrothal."

"What?" cried an outraged Olivia.

"Do not worry, my love; you passed inspection and were deemed worthy to become a Fitzwilliam," said the Colonel. As charmed as she was by her fiancé's smile, Olivia was hardly mollified.

"So, Aunt Catherine, having decided that she approved of your marriage partner, informed you of your inheritance," Mr. Darcy said, speculating about his aunt's motives. Colonel Fitzwilliam addressed his unasked question.

"Aunt Catherine wrote that she did not tell me of my legacy earlier fearing that I would marry the first girl who caught my eye just to get my hands on it," the Colonel said with a bitter laugh. "At least that is what she would like for me to believe."

"What did her solicitors have to say?" asked Mr. Darcy, as Olivia rose from her seat and came to stand near the Colonel.

"Ah.... now here is where things get interesting. Aunt Catherine has apparently not been very forthcoming with her solicitors or with me. They contacted me independently out of concern for my legal rights and undoubtedly in order to protect themselves. It seems that Aunt Catherine lied about the legacy," said the Colonel.

"You mean that there is no legacy?" asked Olivia, aware that she sounded mercenary, but too curious to worry about it.

"No, my love. There is a legacy, all right. But Aunt Catherine has lied about its terms. Uncle Lewis stipulated in his will that I was to receive an annuity of one thousand pounds to begin upon my marriage or my twenty-fifth birthday--which ever came first."

"Then Aunt Catherine has been withholding money that belongs to you for five years?" gasped Georgiana. The Colonel nodded.

"To think I have spent the past several months wondering whether or not I could afford to start a family when I might have had ample income to do so some time ago," said the Colonel, shaking his head.

"And Aunt Catherine, no doubt, has made good use of it while she was allegedly saving it for you," said Mr. Darcy.

"Do you mean that she stole it?" asked Georgiana.

"Technically, it could be considered stealing, although the money never left the security of the DeBourgh accounts. But I suspect that Aunt Catherine has made herself a tidy sum in interest," said Mr. Darcy distastefully. "I daresay you have grounds for suing her."

"Will you?" asked Georgiana. The Colonel shook his head.

"I am just happy that I am able to marry Miss Crenshaw and provide for her comfortably," he smiled with a loving look for his love.

"With five thousand pounds, you can buy a very nice piece of property and still have funds to put aside for investments," smiled Mr. Darcy.

"That will not be necessary," replied the Colonel. "Father has made us a gift of Petrie Farm."

"Do you mean that marvelous old stone cottage?" cried Georgiana.

"Do you know the place?" asked Olivia.

"Yes, Uncle and I toured the place just last week while I was at Matlock. Aunt Rebecca wondered about his sudden interest in looking at it. Uncle said that he wanted to see what kind of shape it was in and whether it needed repairs. Oh, it is a lovely cottage! And it has the prettiest little flower garden...."

"Then it was to your liking, Georgie?" asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with a grin.

"To my liking and your father's," she replied. "The last tenants left it in immaculate condition. I am so happy that you are planning to settle so near Pemberley," Georgiana said to Olivia. "That means that we will be able to see each other often."

"I look forward to that, Georgiana," said Olivia, who found the shy girl very sweet and charming. At that moment voices could be heard from the hall. Moments later, Mr. Harris led Mr. Bingley into the room, with Jane and Elizabeth on his arms. Behind them came Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and the Gardiners. Mr. Darcy went to welcome his guests.

"Elizabeth, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, I would like to introduce you to my sister, Georgiana." The shy young lady politely greeted her new acquaintances, but was only interested in coming to know the lady about whom her brother had spoken so frequently. Elizabeth was equally interested in Georgiana, and the two ladies took a few steps away from the others to become better acquainted. Olivia introduced the Colonel to those in the room he did not know; Mr. Darcy, meanwhile, became the immediate captive of his future mother-in-law.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you, Miss Darcy. I have heard nothing but glowing accounts of you since Fitzwilliam and I first became acquainted," smiled Elizabeth, as she looked for signs of the brother in his younger sibling.

"Please, you must call me Georgiana, since we are to be sisters, and if I may, I would be honored to call you Elizabeth," Georgiana replied in one breath. Elizabeth's laugh disconcerted her, but for only a moment.

"My sisters call me Lizzy, but if you prefer Elizabeth, so be it." Georgiana relaxed then, and the two ladies sat together and instantly began to become friends.

"Oh, what a grand and elegant room, Mr. Darcy," said Mrs. Bennet to Mr. Darcy. "I am certain that my Lizzy will be very happy here," she smiled as she stroked the silk drapery.

"I intend to see to it, madam," Mr. Darcy replied graciously. "Elizabeth will have free reign to make any changes or improvements to suit her taste. I want this to be her home as much as mine." Mrs. Bennet, who had merely been smiling, fairly beamed at this disclosure.

"You are very generous, sir. To tell you the truth," Mrs. Bennet confessed, as she stroked the deep blue silk upholstery of the drawing room, "The place could use a woman's touch. It has too much the look of a bachelor's home." Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who had been speaking with the Colonel and Olivia, thought it best to come to Mr. Darcy's aid. But to their surprise, Mr. Darcy agreed with her. The importuned man went so far as to offer to take his guests on a tour of the public rooms.

The Colonel and Olivia stayed behind with Georgiana, while Mr. Darcy led Elizabeth, Jane, the Gardiners, and the Bennets on a tour of the parlor, the library, his study, and the morning room. Mr. Bingley trailed along, mainly to keep company with Jane. Elizabeth was far too mortified by her mother's decorating advice to pay much attention to what she was looking at, but even when Mrs. Bennet suggested that Mr. Darcy have the hundred year old mahogany paneling removed from his study Mr. Darcy remained in good humor and seemed completely unfazed by behavior that would formerly have lead him to quit her presence. Elizabeth did not know what had come over Mr. Darcy, and seizing an opportunity in the corridor when they were walking a short distance ahead of the group, she asked him about his good mood.

"I would happily suffer a dozen enthusiastic Mrs. Bennets if it means that I will have you by my side for the rest of my life," Mr. Darcy whispered into her ear. Elizabeth glanced up at the unaccustomed spectacle of Mr. Darcy's dimples, and returned his smile.

"You may very well live to regret suffering one Mrs. Bennet before our vows are complete, sir. She has even managed to push Mr. Bingley to the edge of his patience these last few days," she said under her breath. At the mention of Mr. Bingley's name, Mr. Darcy glanced back at his friend. He opened the door to the drawing room and, letting Elizabeth, the Bennets and the Gardiners pass by him, he summoned Mr. Bingley with a look. Mr. Bingley allowed Jane to pass into the room before him and went to answer Mr. Darcy's inquiry.

"Where is your sister, Bingley? I thought that she was coming with you tonight." A frustrated look quickly flashed across Mr. Bingley's usually serene face.

"She is not coming, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said dejectedly. "I tried to convince her, but...." His voice trailed off, leaving Mr. Darcy slightly confused.

"Is she unwell? Has something happened to her?" he asked with genuine concern. Mr. Bingley looked into Mr. Darcy's eyes, a bit surprised by his questions.

"She...she said that you would not want her to come after...well, she said that you two had words...." Mr. Darcy's brows rose, and then it came back to him. In his happiness at becoming engaged to Elizabeth, he had completely forgotten his unpleasant scene in the park with Miss Bingley. "Did you two argue?" Mr. Bingley asked cautiously. Mr. Darcy shifted uneasily. He did not want to repeat what had transpired that day.

"I am afraid that Miss Bingley is correct. We did...have words," he admitted.

"Whatever about? I cannot imagine...I mean I know that my sister can be very irritating at times, but--."

"No, Bingley. I am afraid I am to blame. She made a remark that made me lose my temper. I should not have allowed myself to lose my composure," Mr. Darcy was beginning to realize how painful his retort to Miss Bingley must have seemed to the lady. He lowered his voice so that only Mr. Bingley could hear. "We both said things we cannot be proud of that day." Mr. Bingley grew even more curious to know what had passed between his sister and his best friend, but he was more interested in healing the breech.

"She thinks that she is unwelcome in your home, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said softly. Mr. Darcy, who had been staring at his shoes, suddenly looked up.

"No! No, no, Bingley. Your sister and I have never been the best of friends, and my marriage to Elizabeth is bound to put a strain on our relationship, but I never meant to...I will go to your sister and apologize to her first thing in the morning, Bingley. I am heartily sorry things ever came to this. I will set things to right, you have my word on it as a gentleman," Mr. Darcy said with a pat on Mr. Bingley's shoulder. Mr. Bingley nodded, and they returned to the company.

Mrs. Bennet was in the midst of a scheme to send Mary, Kitty, and Lydia to spend the season in London with "the Darcys," as she had already begun to speak of her daughter and her fiancé. Mrs. Gardiner tactfully suggested that the Darcys be allowed to spend some time alone in their first few months as husband and wife.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Bennet cried. "What will they have to do, alone by themselves for four months? They will become bored to tears with each other I am sure. It will do them no harm to have some company," she added, to the great amusement of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Olivia poked him in his ribcage to silence his laughter, but everyone in the room, save a crimson-faced Elizabeth had joined the Colonel in smirking at Mrs. Bennet's comment. Mr. Bennet quietly assured Elizabeth that she would spend her first six months of marriage without a visit from any Bennet younger than himself. Dinner was announced, and as Mr. Darcy began to escort Elizabeth to the dining room, Miss Bingley appeared. Mr. Darcy was surprised to see her, given her brother's recent disclosure, but he tried to both make her welcome and convey his regret at their misunderstanding.

"Miss Bingley! I was just asking your brother for you. I am very glad you were able to join us after all. We are about to go into dinner. Won't you join us?"

Mr. Darcy extended his free arm, and Miss Bingley shyly took it. She fairly whispered her greeting; she could not bring herself to look Mr. Darcy in the eye. She had come because she did not wish to disappoint her brother. But she had almost turned and run away when she reached the drawing room door, fearing Mr. Darcy's rejection. His gracious welcome was wholly unexpected.

The party moved from the drawing room to the dining room, with Mr. Darcy in the lead and the Colonel, with Olivia and Georgiana, bringing up the rear. Ahead of the Colonel, Mrs. Bennet could be heard to exclaim about the quality of the lace on Miss Bingley's gown.

"I am certain it is the very finest lace, but I daresay, my Lizzy will have her equal share of it soon enough," she whispered to Mr. Bennet. When the party was seated, Elizabeth tried to break the apparent tension between Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley. Something had apparently happened; she could see it in both their faces. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Olivia, and Mr. Bingley seemed equally conscious of the fact that something was amiss. Assuming that it had something to do with her engagement to Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth took a deep breath and attempted to break the ice, but before she could speak, her mother's voice could be heard from the far end of the table declaring that the dining room drapes were just perfect and should not be changed. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could see Georgiana nodding patiently.

"Lizzy looks very becoming in green, you know. It is her coloring, which comes from my side of the family," she said to the snickering Colonel. "Yes, yes...these dark green drapes will look very well with her complexion."

"Miss Bingley, I understand that your brother and sister are traveling on the Continent," Elizabeth said quickly. Miss Bingley seemed a bit surprised at being addressed by Elizabeth, but she answered gamely.

"Yes," she replied as she felt her brother, who sat between herself and Jane, give her hand a squeeze. "They have just reached Milan. I have been thinking about joining them there," she said, unable to meet Elizabeth's gaze.

"Oh, but you must not go before the wedding!" Jane cried. "You cannot! Charles will have so little of his family at the wedding, and you are his closest relation... Please say you will stay at least until then." Miss Bingley felt her hand being squeezed once more.

"I...I will, of course, remain for your marriage to my brother," she said with a sincere smile for Jane. "Which reminds me... I have yet to congratulate you, Mr. Darcy--and you, Miss Bennet--on your forthcoming nuptials. When is the happy event to take place?" Miss Bingley's comment was made without enthusiasm. She felt obliged to congratulate the couple but was not really interested in an answer. She received three.

"Oh, we have not yet even begun to think about a date," said Elizabeth.

"Very soon, I hope," Mr. Darcy chimed in.

"Oh, not for many months yet! There is so much to plan and to do before the wedding. Mark my words--I have spent two months preparing for Jane's wedding to Mr. Bingley, and I am sure that Elizabeth's will be far grander!"

Elizabeth was mortified. Miss Bingley, returning to form, could not suppress her contemptuous sneer. Jane, Olivia, and the Gardiners felt all the mortification that was apparent in Elizabeth's eyes. Mr. Darcy, however, continued to smile. Elizabeth took a gulp of wine and tried to still the tongue that threatened to lash out at her unfortunate mother. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet quickly quieted that lady with a reference to the meal, and Mrs. Bennet was content to rhapsodize about the quality of butchering performed by Mr. Darcy's cook. And other than half dozen or so other comments, Mrs. Bennet behaved rather well for the remainder of the evening.

• • •

The next evening, the Darcy carriage pulled up outside the Fitzwilliams' townhouse, an imposing mansion in one of the most exclusive enclaves in London. As Mr. Darcy handed his sister out of the carriage, he glanced up and saw Colonel Fitzwilliam pacing outside the house.

"Fitzwilliam! What are you doing out here?" he asked. The Colonel was startled out of his reverie and he came over to greet his cousins.

"Georgie, Darcy. I was just getting some fresh air," he said absently, as he began to fidget with his cuffs.

"A case of nerves, old man?" teased Mr. Darcy. He exchanged a knowing smile with his sister, who had herself watched Mr. Darcy pace up and down not a half hour earlier. Mr. Darcy had decided to announce his engagement to Elizabeth at his aunt and uncle's dinner party. Colonel Fitzwilliam had consented to his cousin's sharing the celebration, and Mr. Darcy had barely just recovered from his own case of nerves before leaving the house.

"I wish," retorted the Colonel, as he drew to a halt before Mr. Darcy. "Aunt Catherine is here."

"I did not know that she had been invited," replied Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, she gets invited to everything, but she rarely troubles herself to come. But she seems to have made an exception tonight," the Colonel laughed bitterly. Mr. Darcy followed his cousin with his eyes as he began to pace again.

"You do not believe she will make trouble for you and Miss Crenshaw, do you?" he asked. As the words escaped his lips, it dawned upon Mr. Darcy that the Colonel was not the only one who had cause to worry. Georgiana, at a loss as to what had come over the two gentlemen, searched their expressions for some sort of clue. The silence was abruptly broken by the subtle cough of a footman. The three turned to the man, who informed them that Lady Catherine "awaited their pleasure" in the drawing room. The two male cousins exchanged glances before following Georgiana into the house.

"Standing out in the courtyard like beggars. What do you mean by such vulgar behavior?" demanded Lady Catherine imperiously. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam exchanged glances once more before they followed Georgiana in the ritual of kissing their aunt's upturned cheek.

"Darcy, you look very well. Georgiana, how are your art and music lessons faring?" Without waiting for the girl's reply, Lady Catherine turned her attention to the Colonel.

"Stand up straight, Fitzwilliam. You are supposed to be an officer in the king's army. I cannot abide a slouching posture. A gentleman should always stand up straight, shoulders back. There," she said, as the Colonel complied, "That is better. Your future wife should not find you looking as though you were some penniless man of the lower classes." Lady Rebecca and her husband, the Earl of Matlock, entered the room. Georgiana greeted them with considerably more enthusiasm than she had shown her dowager aunt.

"I did not know that you were in town, Aunt Catherine," said Mr. Darcy as he bent to receive Lady Rebecca's kiss. "Is Anne with you?"

"Darcy, you know that Anne never travels during the summer. Her constitution is far too delicate. I came into town alone to meet Fitzwilliam's fiancée," she said, casting an eye at the Colonel's posture. "Now that he has decided to marry a suitable bride, I will be providing him with a most generous annuity. I want to meet the lady who will be spending a share of the DeBourgh fortune." Without even turning his head, Mr. Darcy knew that his cousin was seething.

"What is this about an annuity?" asked the Earl. "You have never mentioned this before, Kate." Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been maintaining a distance from his aunt so as not to allow himself to be provoked, now came forward to hear the interchange between his father and his aunt.

"Do not call me 'Kate,' Nigel. You know I despise being called 'Kate.'" Lady Catherine glared at her older brother, who had called her by that name since childhood for the sole purpose of annoying her. Lady Catherine, turned away from him, dismissively, and said, "My late husband, Sir Lewis, left an annuity for your younger son, to begin upon his marriage." Her tone was meant to end all further discussion, but the Earl was immune to his sister's ploys.

"How come I never heard of this? I was one of the executors of Lewis's estate!" declared the Earl suspiciously. Lady Catherine gripped the arms of her chair but her slight squirm was detectable nonetheless.

"You had no cause to know of it. It had no relevance fifteen years ago. Besides," Lady Catherine added, unconvincingly, "I only learned of it myself a short while ago when my solicitors brought it to my attention. The codicil was drawn up shortly before Sir Lewis' death and was not among his other papers." Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed his arms and smirked.

"That must be why you did not execute my late uncle's wishes five years ago," he said. Lady Catherine looked stricken. Mr. Darcy and the Colonel struggled to keep from laughing at her affected display of shock.

"What do you mean, Richard? You were not married five years ago," said his confused mother. "Were you?" she added with a wary look. Colonel Fitzwilliam took a seat next to his mother and gently took her hand. The resemblance between mother and son was striking as Lady Rebecca met her son's smile with her own.

"No, Mama," the Colonel replied. "I merely meant that Uncle's will specified that I was to receive an annuity of a thousand pounds per annum, to begin upon my marriage or my twenty-fifth birthday, whichever came first," he concluded with a benign smile for his aunt. "At least, that is what your solicitors told me yesterday afternoon." Lady Catherine did a slow burn as she took in this information.

"Do you mean to say that Catherine has withheld five thousand pounds of your own inheritance from you, dearest?" an affronted Lady Rebecca asked. Mr. Darcy sat quietly, enjoying the spectacle of seeing his proud and pretentious Aunt Catherine receive her comeuppance at the hands of the Fitzwilliams. Both the Earl and Countess were loving parents who fiercely defended their children's interests. The Earl, therefore, took up the argument with his younger sibling.

"Plus interest!" he declared firmly.

"Interest?" Lady Catherine scoffed dismissively. "Why I have saved Fitzwilliam more than five thousand pounds by not giving it to him earlier. He would have been easy prey for the first girl who caught his eye." Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and smiled at Mr. Darcy, who watched the Earl lash out at Lady Catherine with a rarely seen show of anger. Georgiana stood a short distance away from the others, shocked and a bit frightened by the scene unfolding before her. Mr. Darcy's smile caused her to relax a bit. She took a seat on Lady Rebecca's other side and her aunt assured her that the Earl was just "having his usual go" at Lady Catherine.

"Once a year at least, since I married him, he and Catherine have had a battle royal over something or another. I think they actually enjoy arguing," she laughed. Georgiana blinked. It seemed that while her aunt and uncle continued to shout at each other, no one else seemed to show the slightest concern. The Colonel began to chat with his mother. His older brother John and his wife entered the room and greeted the new arrivals, barely acknowledging the arguing pair. Mr. Darcy had also lost interest in the argument over his cousin's inheritance, and grew concerned about problems of his own.

Mr. Darcy had planned to announce his engagement at the dinner and had gained Elizabeth's permission to do so. If he chose not to make the announcement, in an effort to avoid a second unpleasant scene involving his aunt, she would certainly understand. But Mr. Darcy had no illusions that Mrs. Bennet could be dissuaded from mentioning the match. The realization of what was likely to transpire between his aunt and his future mother in law was very discomfiting to Mr. Darcy, and he began to regret his aunt's generosity in extending her invitation to include the Gardiners and the Bennets.

This is all I need...Aunt Catherine...Elizabeth's relatives in trade...Mrs. Bennet...." As if stung by the realization of the incendiary combination of people, circumstances and timing, Mr. Darcy abruptly smacked himself on the forehead, earning the stares of everyone in the room. Mr. Darcy looked up, colored, rose and went to stare out of the window.

"You ought to follow your cousin's example, Darcy." He felt the shrill voice of Lady Catherine pierce his spine. "A wife would be a steadying influence on you. You ought to marry very soon," Lady Catherine smiled smugly and was about to suggest that he announce his engagement to his cousin Anne immediately when she heard Mr. Darcy murmur something.

"I fully intend to," Mr. Darcy said as he rolled his eyes. Lady Catherine clapped her hands in delight.

"Wonderful!" she cried as Lady Rebecca rose and joined her nephew at the window.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam, Richard told us of your engagement this morning. I must say I was surprised to see matters resolved between the two of you so quickly," Lady Rebecca smiled with a twinkle in her eye. But instead of acknowledging his aunt's comment, Mr. Darcy whirled and glared at the Colonel who, momentarily ignorant of the consequences of his betrayal, was confused by the ferocity in his cousin's eyes. Lady Catherine rose from her chair dramatically, and like some lace-adorned bird of prey descended upon her nephew.

"Engaged?" she shrieked. "To whom are you allegedly engaged? How can you, how dare you presume to give your affection to another while you are perfectly aware that you are already betrothed to my Anne!" Mr. Darcy had turned to confront his aunt, but his action was arrested by the sight that greeted him from the door. The party from Gracechurch Street had arrived, along with Mr. Bingley and his sister. Elizabeth, on the arm of her father, strolled into the room with her brows furrowed, with a questioning look to her fiancé. Mrs. Bennet, who had eagerly pressed forward looked equally confused, as did the others who milled about, undecided about entering the clearly hostile territory. Elizabeth stood frozen amid the tumult around her, her eyes riveted upon those of her beloved. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner stepped forward then came up short abruptly behind her. Miss Bingley smirked as she saw Lady Catherine raise her finger and point at Elizabeth accusingly.

"You! Elizabeth Bennet! I should have known you would scheme to entrap my nephew. Is this how you intend to make your fortune? I know you are penniless; your cousin has told me that your father's estate is entailed away. Oh, yes," Lady Catherine sneered as she took a step in Elizabeth's direction. "I know what you are about. But do not think for one moment that I will permit you to succeed...." Lady Catherine fell silent and dropped her arm as Mr. Bennet came to within a foot of her, towering over the diminutive lady. He had positioned himself between his daughter and Lady Catherine in such a manner that even Mr. Darcy, who was about to come to Elizabeth's defense, was cut off.

"Lady Catherine DeBourgh, I presume," he said with menacing quiet. The angry woman looked him up and down.

"Do you know me, sir?" she said condescendingly. She could only assume that the man was Elizabeth Bennet's father.

"I ought to; my simpering null wit of a nephew spoke of little else during his visit to Hertfordshire last year." He snarled.

"Then you must be Mr. Bennet. I suppose you presume to condone this outrageous match between your daughter and my nephew," Lady Catherine rallied.

"As a matter of fact," Mr. Bennet intoned, "I was dead set against it." Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth to speak, but the briefest glance from her husband silenced the words on the tip of her tongue. A second glance forced Mr. Darcy's mouth shut. Even Elizabeth, who still stood in the doorway, was unable to utter a sound. She stood mute, holding her breath, dreading the scene about to unfold. Lady Catherine was about to seize this opening to speak but Mr. Bennet silenced her as well. "But Mr. Darcy has won the love of my dearest child," he continued with a reassuring smile at that gentleman, "And my Lizzy has declared her love for him. And considering what the two of them have been through, I can think of nothing less important to their happiness than your or my approval." With that, Mr. Bennet curtly bowed to Lady Catherine and strode past her and extended his arm to Mrs. Bennet. He was about to turn to leave, when the Earl stepped forward.

"Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet," he said, graciously extending his hand, "Welcome to our home. Please, all of you," he said, gesturing toward Mr. and Miss Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and Elizabeth. "Do come in and make yourselves comfortable."

If Mr. Darcy was at all offended by Mr. Bennet's comment, he did not show it as he rushed to Elizabeth, who looked very ill at ease. His warm smile acted as a mild restorative, and the color returned to her cheeks by the time he reached out and took her hand. The Earl and Countess graciously welcomed the Bennets and the Gardiners, while Lady Catherine continued to sputter and fume to herself. Returning to her seat, Lady Catherine proceeded to scowl at Mr. Bennet, who calmly gazed back at her in defiance. Mr. Bennet kept a firm grip on Mrs. Bennet's arm as he chatted pleasantly with the Earl, as if to forestall any possibility of a spontaneous action on her part. Mrs. Bennet was too much in awe of her surroundings to say very much, although she gaped at the luxurious furnishings.

"I had hoped for a different reaction when I announced our engagement," Mr. Darcy quipped with a disdainful glance at Lady Catherine as he presented Elizabeth to his aunt and uncle.

"Well, we shall not disappoint you," Lady Rebecca cooed. "I am so very happy to meet you, dear, and I welcome you to the family.'

"Indeed," said the Earl, as he drew her further into the room and introduced her to his older son, John and wife, Gemma. Elizabeth was charmed by all the Fitzwilliams and they all endeavored to make her welcome. Georgiana drew Elizabeth to her side as the rest of the party began to relax and mingle. Everyone seemed to forget Mr. Bennet's confrontation with Lady Catherine as easily as they had forgotten her earlier confrontation with the Earl.

"I am sorry about Aunt Catherine," Georgiana whispered to her future sister as she drew her aside. "She is not usually so rude."

"You will never be able to convince her of that," winked Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I am afraid she knows Aunt Catherine far too well. But I am very sorry that you should be subjected to such behavior in our home," the Colonel added with an apologetic smile.

"You are right, Colonel. I am far too well acquainted with your aunt and thus I have no choice but to acquit you and your family of any responsibility for that incident." Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, who had been detained by the Earl and Mr. Bennet. Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed upon his aunt. Elizabeth sighed. She knew that the unpleasantness caused by her engagement to Mr. Darcy was not over.

While Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth told Georgiana of their experiences with Lady Catherine in Kent, Miss Bingley joined the Viscount and his lady in conversation with her brother and Jane. She listened politely as John and Gemma apologized to Jane for their aunt's behavior.

"I do not know why Aunt Catherine should object to your sister; she is as refined a lady as we have ever seen," said John.

"I did not realize that you knew Miss Bennet," Miss Bingley replied.

"Oh, we have never met before this evening," smiled the elegant Lady Gemma. "But we have seen her on a few occasions, and I must say we were very impressed by her." The couple exchanged a smile, as Jane wrinkled her brow in confusion. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, who were just a short distance away, could not help but overhear the comment, and could not resist the temptation to listen further.

"Miss Bennet first came to our notice some months ago at the theatre," John began, as his doting wife smiled in encouragement. "It was in the spring, was it not my love?"

"Yes, dearest," Gemma replied. "Darcy there," she said with a gesture toward her tall cousin, "Was not himself that night. When we spoke to him, he did not even acknowledge us."

"Yes. We feared that something was wrong with him, but after observing him we saw that he seemed to be quite obsessed with a certain young lady."

"Of course, we had no idea of her identity then," added Gemma. "We later asked Richard about the lady, but he would tell us very little. We decided to do a bit of investigating for ourselves," she added with satisfaction.

"Unfortunately, no one in our acquaintance knew anything of her," said John.

"Richard was very cruel to us," pouted Gemma. "He would not tell us a thing." Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped feigning indifference, and in spite of Georgiana's whispered appeal, he and Elizabeth walked over to join the conversation.

"I rather liked the idea of Miss Bennet as a woman of mystery," teased the Colonel to his sister and brother. "Besides, I could not have the two of you gossiping about Darcy's love life among the ton."

"We have gossiped to no one," said the Colonel's affronted brother.

"We have been very discrete in our inquiries," Gemma chimed in.

"Inquiries about my love life?" asked Mr. Darcy as he joined the circle. John and Gemma repeated their tale of how they first saw Elizabeth at the theatre in March and their subsequent observations on her later visits to town.

"We have kept a close eye on your Miss Bennet since then," said John.

"And we have been speculating about her ever since," concluded Gemma with a smile for Elizabeth.

"I had no idea that the two of you had been spying on us," Mr. Darcy said, but John and Gemma just laughed. Lady Catherine's snort of derision momentarily distracted the group. The offended dowager remained in her chair, speaking to no one, contributing nothing to the evening's festivities, but silently observing all the Bennets. In the space of a minute she had found them all wanting, decidedly inferior. Mr. Bennet, Lady Catherine concluded, was rude and boorish, and his wife a complete fool, though probably tractable. Elizabeth Bennet she already knew to be a scheming social climber, and as for Jane Bennet.... Not being able to discern any external flaws, Lady Catherine merely concluded that she must be tainted by her connections to the other Bennets. The Gardiners she deemed not worthy of comment. She could no longer contain her anger and began to vent her spleen.

"Pah! Look at them all, smug and cozy amid their superiors," she grumbled to no one in particular. The Earl pointedly ignored her as he spoke with the Gardiners ands Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. "Darcy is throwing himself away on that little nobody. Well, at least Fitzwilliam had the good sense to choose someone appropriate as his bride. I daresay that her relations know how to behave in company. Her family will not be an embarrassment to her. Nor would she approve of Darcy marrying so far beneath himself. Olivia Crenshaw will be a credit to this family. Thank goodness one of my nephews has shown some good sense." Just then, voices could be heard down the hall. The Earl and Countess rose to receive the Crenshaws, and Lady Catherine hastened to join them.

"Now, we will see a dignified and refined young lady worthy of becoming a Fitzwilliam. Olivia Crenshaw will put Elizabeth Bennet to shame," Lady Catherine said to Lady Rebecca, who merely smiled to Colonel Fitzwilliam as he came to stand by his mother's side. "Fitzwilliam, I am proud of you. You have chosen your bride well," Lady Catherine declared loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"I could not agree with you more," the Colonel replied with a wink for Elizabeth. She and Mr. Darcy exchanged a confused glance as the Crenshaw party, led by Mr. Crenshaw with Olivia on his arm, entered the room. The Colonel immediately relieved Mr. Crenshaw of his burden, and whisked Olivia back into the hall. Lady Catherine was not insensible of the Colonel's impropriety, but so anxious was she to flaunt the Colonel's fiancée before Elizabeth Bennet that she immediately forgave him.

"I think you should be warned," Colonel Fitzwilliam said hastily. "My Aunt Catherine is here, and she is in a foul mood." Olivia barely had time to take in this information before he returned her to the room. As he formally introduced his future bride to his parents, Lady Catherine insinuated herself into the conversation.

"It is very good to see you again, Miss Crenshaw," said Lady Rebecca, "And it especially gives us pleasure to welcome you as a member of our family."

"Thank you," Olivia said with a deep curtsey as Lady Catherine stepped forward for an inspection.

"You are a very pretty girl, Miss Crenshaw," Lady Catherine said with a proprietary interest in the girl. "I admire my nephew's taste, but then, Fitzwilliam has long been my favorite, and has had the good sense to follow my judgment in the choice of a wife." Lady Catherine paused, accustomed as she was to some acknowledgment of her excellent judgment, but try as she might, Olivia could think of no suitable comment to make. Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes slightly, but still convinced of Olivia's superiority, she bestowed a smile on the young lady. "I shall take you under my wing and prepare you for marriage myself, as I understand that you are without a mother." Olivia involuntarily gasped.

"I thank you, Lady Catherine," she managed as she recovered herself. "But that will not be necessary. Mrs. Gardiner has been as a second mother to me since I was a child and has already been invaluable in preparing me for marriage. Also, my sister Elise has been a great help. So, you see," she concluded with a smile, "I am quite well looked after." It was Lady Catherine's turn to gasp as Olivia curtseyed again and turned away.

"Well! To refuse my counsel...and for that of inferior advice from people who can know nothing of what it is expected of her in elite society," she said as she glared at Olivia's retreating back. Of course, it did not occur to her that the young couple's income would be no more than that of the Gardiner's, if one discounted Olivia's legacy--as the Colonel was wont to do. Nor did it occur to Lady Catherine that Richard and Elise Crenshaw's income easily exceeded her own or that the pair traveled in the first circles. She watched with mounting horror as Olivia approached Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

"Lizzy! You look beautiful!" Olivia gushed. "I knew that lavender was a perfect shade for you. And your hair-oh, Lizzy, you look wonderful!" Elizabeth laughed as she returned the compliment.

"Oh, you find it easy to praise my attire, do you, when you know you have all the credit of it," Elizabeth laughed. Olivia joined her, as Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy exchanged quizzical glances. They had no way of knowing that not only had Olivia given Elizabeth the gown she wore so becomingly, Olivia had seen to every detail of her outfit down to her choice of scent.

"And you, Livy," Elizabeth said, turning the tables on her friend. "You look...you look so..."

"Permit me, Miss Bennet," the Colonel interrupted with a slight cough. "Ethereal, incredible, beautiful, lovely, exquisite, astounding," Colonel Fitzwilliam reeled off, pausing briefly between each word. Olivia and Elizabeth rolled their eyes as they smiled at his hyperbole. "Magnificent--did I already say magnificent? Wonderful, uh...." Colonel Fitzwilliam searched for more words with which to flatter his beloved

"Charming?" Mr. Darcy offered helpfully, but the Colonel squinted at his cousin with disdain.

"You must forgive my cousin, my dear. He is too little practiced in the art of flattering ladies," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a sidelong glance at a smirking Mr. Darcy.

"And I am afraid you will find that my cousin is far too well practiced in that art, Miss Crenshaw, Mr. Darcy retorted.

"At least I know better than to tell a young lady in evening dress that she merely looks 'charming.' Most girls upon hearing such pallid praise would spend the remainder of the evening peering into every available mirror wondering what went wrong between their mantua makers and their toilettes," the Colonel huffed as the ladies giggled.

"Which do you think is worse, Lizzy: marrying the man who has had too little practice or the one who has apparently had too much?"

"I am afraid I have the better of them, for should Mr. Darcy be moved to flatter me, I know that he will be speaking from his heart. I doubt you will be able to believe a word of what the good Colonel says," Elizabeth laughed. Olivia and the Colonel joined her, but Mr. Darcy was distracted by the sight of Georgiana in conversation with Mr. Douglass.

"What is it, Fitzwilliam?" asked Elizabeth, with a touch to his arm.

"Nothing," Mr. Darcy replied absently as he continued to observe the pair. Georgiana and Mr. Douglass were immediately attracted to one another however, they were each hampered by shyness. Mr. Douglass spoke mostly to his shoes, while Georgiana's eyes flitted about, landing upon every object in the room except Mr. Douglass' handsome face.

"They make a lovely couple," suggested Olivia when the Colonel joined Mr. Darcy in his fraternal vigil.

"She is far too young to be courted," Colonel Fitzwilliam murmured.

"Courted!" Elizabeth laughed. "He can barely say two words to her much less pay her court."

"Pay her court?" Mr. Darcy had not been listening, and only caught the last of Elizabeth's comment. "He does not even know her."

"And how well did you know me when you fell in love?" Elizabeth teased, but Mr. Darcy's would not be sidetracked.

"Georgiana is barely sixteen," he growled.

"And we know nothing of this man, nor of his prospects," added the Colonel. Olivia and Elizabeth could scarcely believe their ears.

"Mr. Douglass is two and twenty, has a very decent income which will very likely double next year when he comes into his trust fund, and is as pleasant, intelligent, and refined a young man as you are likely to meet," Olivia said with some asperity.

"Yes, and he is rather charming, if you will allow us ladies the use of the word without the fear of sending Mr. Douglass to the nearest mirror," Elizabeth quipped. But Mr. Darcy was still not disarmed.

"No matter," he said. "Georgiana is too young and impressionable to know her own heart," Mr. Darcy said with an air of finality. He prepared to cross the room to break up the tete a tete.

"And who are you to dictate her happiness?" Elizabeth cried as she grabbed his arm. She immediately recoiled from her own bold act and covered her mouth. Mr. Darcy turned on her, sparks flashing in his eyes. One look at Elizabeth, however, was enough to forestall the outburst that had sprung unbidden to his tongue.

"I suppose we are being a bit presumptuous," Mr. Darcy said evenly, "But you will allow Fitzwilliam and me to show a filial concern for our young charge." Elizabeth bowed her head, and Mr. Darcy felt awful. He had not meant to sound so harsh. He reached out to touch Elizabeth, but she eluded him and crossed the room to join her sister and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy drew a deep sigh. He glanced at his sister, who had been joined by Richard Crenshaw and Elise, then at Elizabeth, who determinedly refused to look up. A few feet away, Lady Catherine who had observed the exchange between the couple, smiled. Mr. Darcy decided to wait a few minutes before apologizing. He did not want to repeat his mistake in acting too hastily. He stood awkwardly beside the Colonel and Olivia, hardly hearing their discussion about their wedding.

"I was speaking with my parents earlier and, if you and your father have no objections, we would like to hold the wedding at Matlock," said the Colonel with a surreptitious glance at his cousin, whose eyes, mind and heart were across the room.

"That would be lovely," smiled Olivia. "As a girl in Derbyshire, I often dreamed of a beautiful country wedding. But when father gave up our country home and decided to move to town permanently, I quite gave up on the idea. A wedding at Matlock would be perfect. Lizzy has already consented to be my maid of honor, if she is still a maid. Have you two discussed a date?" Olivia asked, desperately trying to draw Mr. Darcy into the conversation.

"No," he replied, a bit sadly. "But I hope it will be soon." He looked at Elizabeth wistfully and found that she was looking at him with same expression. A bit of a smile was all it took to make Mr. Darcy to fly to her side. He immediately began to apologize, but Elizabeth put her finger to his lips. He kissed the delicate obstacle and smiled his apology.

"So when will the two of you take your vows, Darcy?" asked Mr. Bingley.

"As soon as humanly possible," Mr. Darcy said with a smile meant only for Elizabeth, and Mr. Bingley and Jane smiled at the besotted couple, as did Olivia and the Colonel as the joined them.

"So, it is to be a rushed business is it?" Lady Catherine remarked. She was overheard by Mrs. Bennet, who had briefly escaped her husband.

"Certainly not," she sniffed. "It will not be a 'rushed business' as you call it, for all that Mr. Darcy is eager to have his way with my Lizzy." Mr. Darcy reddened at her remark, and Elizabeth wished she could disappear. Miss Bingley giggled at Mrs. Bennet's vulgarity, until her brother silenced her with a look. As Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Crenshaw had just joined the Earl to take a look at some bronzes in the Fitzwilliam library (and undoubtedly to partake of some port as well) the duty of extricating Mrs. Bennet fell to Mrs. Gardiner.

"I believe that my niece and Mr. Darcy have yet to set a date," she said diplomatically. "Perhaps we should let the couple in question decide what sort of wedding it is to be." Elizabeth allowed herself to breathe again, but she knew better than to think that her mother was done.

"Nonsense!" squealed Mrs. Bennet. "What would Lizzy know of planning such a grand event"? She was not brought up to it. No, she and Mr. Darcy must leave every detail to me. It will be the most lavish and extraordinary event of the season, mark my words." Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy in silent appeal as Mrs. Gardiner tried and again failed to silence her sister. Mr. Darcy leaned over and whispered into Elizabeth's ear as Jane went to her mother and took her arm.

"Would it not be lovely, Mama," she said as she carefully led her mother to a chair a safe distance from Lady Catherine, "If Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were to be married with Mr. Bingley and myself?" Jane looked her question to Elizabeth but both she and Mr. Darcy suddenly seemed to be deep in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Olivia.

"A double wedding? Nonsense, child! Lizzy and Mr. Darcy are to have a wedding of their own, with everything the finest, as befits her new station in life. I can see it all now...." Mrs. Bennet said as she became lost in elaborate schemes.

"Spending my nephew's money already are you?" Lady Catherine sneered. "Well, it is no more than he deserves, casting his lot with the likes of you," she said as she crossed her arms smugly. All the Bennets in the room were too far away to hear her, but Lady Rebecca had heard enough.

"Lady Catherine, if the presence of my guests is so offensive to you," she said in a low voice, "Perhaps you would rather take your meal in your chambers. I will arrange to have it sent up now." She turned away immediately, before Lady Catherine could utter a syllable. She rose from her chair, smarting from the set down and strode from the room, nearly bumping into Mr. Bennet as the men returned from the library. She drew herself up haughtily and swept past the men without a word. The gentlemen entered the room in time to hear Mr. Darcy declare to all assembled his intention to marry Elizabeth in early autumn.

"I rather like the idea of a double wedding," he said with a smile for Jane. "But you and Bingley deserve a special day of your own. On the other hand, Miss Bennet and I would probably not be here today were it not for the intervention of these two," Mr. Darcy continued, with a nod toward the Colonel and Olivia, "So we have chosen to impose upon them instead. The four of us will marry in October at Matlock."

"Yes," Elizabeth chimed in, beaming. "And since Lady Rebecca has graciously consented to attend to all the details herself, Mama, you will be spared the trouble of planning my wedding." Elizabeth had to suppress the smile that threatened her composure. Mrs. Bennet was on the verge of apoplexy, but Mr. Bennet claimed his wife's arm and led her to the dining room along with the others, effectively silencing her for the remainder of the evening.

For Elizabeth's part, the remainder of the evening went quite well. The meal was splendid, the conversation pleasant, and the Fitzwilliams warm and gracious. Elizabeth discovered that the Colonel's winning smile was a family trait that was frequently displayed by all the Fitzwilliams. And in the company of the Fitzwilliams (and especially in Lady Catherine's absence), Mr. Darcy also smiled a great deal more. He was so disposed to be in good humor that he did not seem to mind that Georgiana and Mr. Douglass sat together at dinner, still barely conversing. Miss Bingley even deigned to make conversation with the Gardiners, who both instantly became great favorites of all the Fitzwilliams.

When the evening was over and Mr. Darcy had seen Elizabeth to Mr. Bingley's carriage, she peered up at the beautiful façade of the mansion. From a corner window on an upper floor, Lady Catherine glared at her, but her face was no more than a shadow. But Elizabeth recognized the lady and after she pointed her out to Olivia, they both waved goodbye as the carriage pulled away. Lady Catherine was outraged by their audacity. She immediately called for her abigail and ordered that her carriage be brought around at first light. She was furious at her nephews.

"They are fools, the pair of them. To be so easily manipulated by those vulgar little chits...." She momentarily considered contacting her solicitors to withhold Colonel Fitzwilliam's inheritance, but knew that her efforts would not be successful. "Bah! Let them be made fools of. They deserve their fates. They will not know a moment's happiness, either of them. Mark my words, they will come to regret their marriages." She blew out the candle and slid into her bed, as the Colonel and Mr. Darcy, who had heard her rant from the courtyard, laughed.

Twelve

—

"Tell me again exactly why you insisted on dragging me out here at this hour?"

"Insisted? Dragged? My love, all I did was extend a simple invitation."

"Simple invitation? You made those eyes--you know it is impossible to resist you when you make those eyes." Colonel Fitzwilliam paused in his tracks and smiled wickedly. Olivia grabbed the lapel of his coat and pulled him along until he suddenly grabbed her hand and led her off the path. "Where are you taking me?" she gasped as she struggled to keep up with the Colonel's long-legged stride.

"It would not be much of a surprise if I told you that, now would it?" he called over his shoulder as he trod on.

"I do not need any surprises this morning. If Elise discovers that I am missing--and worse, that I am out here with you at dawn--."

"If Mrs. Crenshaw threatens to harm one hair on your lovely head she will have to answer to me for it," the Colonel replied as he turned to help Olivia over a particularly large and slippery rock.

"Oh? Will you call her out, Colonel?" Olivia asked as she stopped to catch her breath.

"Yes," he laughed, as he brushed an errant wisp of hair out of her eyes. "And I will show her no mercy." The couple laughed as they continued to trudge up a rather steep hill. Olivia began to lose her enthusiasm for the Colonel's adventure when she plunged her foot into a muddy hole in the ground.

"Really, Richard! I do have better things to do this morning." Colonel Fitzwilliam turned upon her with "those eyes." Olivia rolled her own eyes and tried to look away. "I should be sleeping, or better yet, preparing. I have hours of preparations to make before the ceremony..."

"Exactly what is it you brides do before a wedding that takes so long? When John and Gemma were married, she was cloistered in her chambers for a day and a half." Olivia shot him a withering glance.

"Never you mind. Just be prepared to appreciate my efforts," Olivia laughed. The Colonel put his arm around her waist and drew her close.

"Have I ever failed to appreciate you?" He whispered in her ear.

"Only the first ten years or so of our acquaintance," she whispered back. She smiled at the Colonel's surprised expression, and kissed him lightly on the mouth before pulling away and ducking under a low hanging branch on their path.

"I had no idea of your interest in me ten years ago," the Colonel said as he nearly bumped into, then ducked under the offending branch. "Of course, you were still a little girl then and not really worthy of notice."

"Oh? And exactly when did I become worthy of your notice?" Olivia demanded. The Colonel stopped to carefully consider his answer.

"It was about two years ago, I think--the night I danced with you at Mama's Christmas Ball."

"Two years ago? And it took you that long to speak?" Olivia asked in disbelief.

"Ten years ago, madam? I might ask you the same question," the Colonel returned the challenge.

"Ten years ago I was barely eleven and hardly in a position to attract the notice, not to mention the affections, of a Cambridge man."

"Ten years ago you did capture the affections of a Cambridge man," the Colonel retorted with a smile. "His affections, however, have rather matured since then."

"As have I?" Olivia smiled sweetly, but the Colonel knew better than to answer. "So what took you so long? Once I became worthy of your 'mature' notice, I mean." The Colonel again carefully weighed his words. This was not the day to start a row.

"On that night, I held you in my arms and for the first time saw you as a woman." He smiled at the remembrance. "It was a bit overwhelming...Crenny's little sister, all grown up. It took a while for it to sink in and still longer to realize that I had fallen for you. Of course, at the time, I was not yet ready for marriage, and I could hardly have supported a wife..." Colonel Fitzwilliam looked up then, but far from returning his ardent gaze, Olivia was surveying the prospect from the top of the hill. The sun was making inroads in its battle with the morning mist that still shrouded much of the Matlock estate. Olivia was entranced by the pastoral beauty of the scene; nonetheless, she turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam and demanded to know why she had been "invited" on his predawn hike.

"I wanted you to see our new home," the Colonel replied in a slightly hurt voice.

"I saw it two days ago! You walked me over every inch of the estate, remember? Are all of your family great walkers or are you an exception?" Olivia grabbed the Colonel's arm and bent over to look at the damage incurred by her lightweight boots. "Probably something you picked up in the army," she muttered as she picked up as stick and attempted to remove a large clot of mud from the toe. "You men are always walking everywhere," she murmured, as the Colonel smirked at her. When she had done and stood up again, Colonel Fitzwilliam placed his hands on Olivia's waist and turned her toward the west. She was about to make another comment, and then caught her breath as she saw her new home seemingly rising out of the mist. She saw the large cottage, its well-manicured gardens, the orchards, the outbuildings, and beyond them all, acres of lush green land. Olivia put her hands to her mouth and smiled. The scene before her was awe-inspiring. As she looked at the lush green fields, the tidy house, and saw the horses being let out into the corral, Olivia saw her future before her. When the Colonel drew her closer to him and whispered in her ear, she was startled.

"Well? Do you like your new home, madam?" Olivia, tears in her eyes, nodded.

"It is beautiful," she whispered. Olivia turned and hugged the Colonel for a long moment, then released him and started back down the hill.

"Where are you going?" the Colonel cried, as he scrambled after her, fearing that something was wrong.

"I want to get home and get ready for the ceremony," Olivia called as she hurried down the hill at an alarming clip. She nearly took a tumble, but the Colonel caught her in time.

"Slow down, my love. The wedding is not for hours yet!" the Colonel said, moving ahead of Olivia so that he was in a better position to protect her from harm. "What is your rush?" he laughed.

"The sooner we are married, the sooner we can move into our new home, and the sooner we can begin our life together as man and wife." The Colonel's smile grew as he pondered her point. He turned and carefully led Olivia to the base of the hill.

"I have been thinking about what you just said," the Colonel began as the couple walked hand in hand along the level path.

"And?" Olivia asked. Instead of answering, the Colonel took off at a run, and the couple made its way back to Matlock Hall in half the time it had earlier taken them to walk the distance. Upon her return to the house, Olivia left Colonel Fitzwilliam at the bottom of the grand staircase and made her way up to her room unseen, save for one footman who was decidedly disinclined to take notice of a wild-haired young lady in mud-splattered clothing sneaking into the house with the Colonel on the morning of his wedding. Talbot was no gossip, even if his mates would have gladly paid to hear of the young master's escapades. Olivia tiptoed past Elizabeth's door and found her own. She entered her room and gently closed the door so as not to make a sound. She therefore nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice behind her.

"Where have you been?" Elizabeth asked from the bed, where she had apparently made herself comfortable.

"What are you doing in here?" Olivia managed to say when she found her voice. She held her hand to her panting chest.

"I believe I asked you first," Elizabeth replied archly.

"I was with Richard." At Elizabeth's shocked expression, Olivia quickly amended her statement as she tugged at her disheveled hair. "We took a walk. He said he wanted to show me something." Elizabeth crawled out from under the coverlet and crawled to the end of the bed, where Olivia had unceremoniously deposited herself.

"It was nothing that could not--or should not--have waited until after the ceremony, I trust?"

"Lizzy!" Olivia cried, as she blushed at the implication. Elizabeth immediately began to laugh.

"What did he show you? And was it as my mother described?" she teased. For an answer, Elizabeth was nearly smothered with a pillow.

"He took me to see a lovely view of Matlock Glen and our new home from the top of the hill behind the house. It was truly breathtaking, Lizzy." Elizabeth stared at her doubtingly. "Wait until you see Pemberley," Olivia said.

"Have you ever been there?" Elizabeth asked with great interest.

"Yes, many times, many, many years ago when we still lived in Derbyshire."

"Livy, did you ever think you would come back here? As a wife I mean...in your wildest dreams, did you ever dare to think that you would one day marry the son of an earl and be settled on one of the finest estates in Derbyshire?" As Elizabeth spoke, Olivia began to realize how surreal it all seemed to her friend. Olivia had had every expectation of marrying well--her situation disposed her to it--and though the disparity in their circumstances was great, it was not so great as to prepare Olivia for Elizabeth's apprehension.

"Lizzy, you are not having reservations about marrying Mr. Darcy, are you?" she asked.

"About marrying Fitzwilliam, no...but it all seems so strange. The first time you lay eyes upon a man it never enters your head that you will marry him one day. That certainly was the furthest thing from my mind when I met Fitzwilliam." Olivia's mysterious smile taught Elizabeth that she was of quite a different opinion.

"The first time I saw Richard, he had come home from college with my brother and stayed with us for several weeks. I took one look at him and declared him the man I wanted to marry. I was absolutely infatuated with him." Olivia laughed. "I as much as confessed that to him a few minutes ago."

"How come I never knew of this 'infatuation'? I thought we had no secrets from one another!" Elizabeth pretended to pout, and Olivia patted her cheek in mock sympathy.

"You and I were not yet acquainted. I was still a girl in Derbyshire and Richard was a Cambridge mate of my brother's. You," and she smacked Elizabeth with a pillow for emphasis, "Were still an unruly brat who climbed trees and got into 'perilous adventures' behind your Mama's back."

"Oh dear," cried Elizabeth. "We do have no secrets! But seriously, Livy...did you really know he was the one?"

"I was eleven! I knew nothing except that Richard Fitzwilliam was divine. I silently worshiped him for six weeks, until he returned to college. Then I did not see him for a few years. The next time I saw him, I was fifteen, he was a dashing young captain, and I could not get anywhere near him for the hoards of young ladies who constantly surrounded him. He barely knew I was alive, and when he did deign to acknowledge me, it was only as the sister of a dear friend." Olivia felt anew all the frustration of her disadvantaged status, which was quickly replaced by her present knowledge of her fiancé's heart.

"When did that change?" asked Elizabeth, warming to the tale.

"According to what Richard told me this morning, two years ago. He said that when he danced with me at his family's Christmas Ball, he realized for the first time that I was all grown up," Olivia beamed as she recalled the moment, not a half hour earlier, when Colonel Fitzwilliam held her in his arms and revealed the moment he fell in love with her, sort of. She wished now that she had not been so distracted by the scenery. There was so much more she wanted to ask him, and even more she wanted to tell him.

"Livy?" Olivia blinked and came back to the present. She blushed at Elizabeth's amused expression.

"Now it is your turn, Lizzy," she said, as she bent to remove her soiled garments.

"I have already told you everything about my relationship with Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth protested.

"Perhaps, but you have never told me of your first reaction to him."

"I have told you. I found him arrogant, conceited, rude--."Olivia turned to her with a sly smile on her face.

"Before that."

"I did not know him before that evening," Elizabeth replied innocently, but Olivia pressed further.

"I did not ask if you knew him. What I am asking has nothing to do with knowing him." She leaned closer so that they met eye to eye. "I asked about your first reaction to him. Before you decided you hated him. Before you knew anything of him. What were your impressions at the first sight of him?" Elizabeth blushed deeply.

"I...."

"Yes?" said Olivia to Elizabeth, who couldn't seem to raise her eyes.

"He struck me...well, I thought..." She glanced up at Olivia, who had her arms crossed and was waiting none too patiently.

"Admit it. You thought he was gorgeous. You thought--."

"I did not! I...I did remember thinking that he was handsome...very handsome..."

"Liar! You will not even admit it to yourself, will you! Richard and I knew it even before we saw the two of you together!" Elizabeth furrowed her brow. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable with Olivia's line of inquiry.

"What are you talking about?" Olivia started to pounce again, but she suddenly relented and smiled benignly.

"You and Mr. Darcy fell in love at first sight." Elizabeth began to protest, but Olivia kept right on talking. "I know all about it. He insulted you that first evening and you hated him for it. But admit it, Lizzy, you did fall for him immediately, otherwise you would not have cared one jot what he thought of you. You took one look at Mr. Darcy and had the same visceral reaction that he did, only the two of you were far too stubborn to admit it even to yourselves." Elizabeth began another weak protest, but Olivia's notion was far too interesting to discard.

"Fitzwilliam told me himself that he did not fall in love with me the first time he saw me."

"Of course not. He did not fall in love with you until he really looked at you, and you did not fall in love with him until you really looked at him. But when the two of you looked at each other, sparks flew to be sure. And," she added as she sidled up closer to Elizabeth, "Long before then, that first night at the assembly, you took one look at Mr. Darcy and swooned, just as did every other girl in the room, did you not?" Elizabeth could not resist the temptation to turn the tables on her friend.

"Are you asking this out of mere curiosity, or are you simply confessing some unspoken attraction for my future husband?" It was Olivia's turn to blush slightly; she had always thought Mr. Darcy to be among the handsomest men in England. However, she was all the more determined to make Elizabeth admit it.

"I want you to confess that you were as interested in your Mr. Darcy the moment you laid eyes upon him as I was in my Richard." Elizabeth merely smiled enigmatically. In a last desperate effort to secure a confession, Olivia resorted to a more effective tactic: she renewed her assault with the pillow, and in seconds, Elizabeth's defenses crumbled.

• • •

A knock on Mr. Darcy's door startled him out of a waking dream. He quickly mumbled a command to enter, but instead of being greeted by his valet, he looked up into the beaming face of his cousin.

"It is time you were out of bed, Darcy. We have preparations to make," said the Colonel as he strolled over to the window and drew apart the drapes. Mr. Darcy crawled out of bed and joined his cousin at the window.

"What are you so bloody cheerful about?" he asked as he secured the knot on his robe. Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at his cousin incredulously.

"Why should I not be cheerful? It is a beautiful morning and by the end of it I will be a very happily married man. I daresay," he added with a nudge to Mr. Darcy's ribs, "Tomorrow I will be an even happier one." Mr. Darcy blinked and glared at the Colonel. Mr. Darcy always hated seeing the Colonel first thing in the morning. He was always so relentlessly cheerful. Mr. Darcy was a habitual early riser himself, but he could never match the Colonel's mood. Mr. Darcy preferred to confront each morning soberly and learn to be cheerful as the day wore on. However, this morning, Mr. Darcy found the Colonel's good spirits infectious and very soon the two men were chatting amiably about the coming nuptials.

"I cannot believe that Miss Crenshaw could be convinced to do such a thing," Mr. Darcy remarked when the Colonel told him of his visit to what the Fitzwilliams had always called the "Big Hill."

"You underestimate my Miss Crenshaw," Colonel Fitzwilliam said proudly. "She has as much spunk, wit, and energy as your Miss Bennet. I suppose that is why they are such good friends." Mr. Darcy eyed the Colonel thoughtfully.

"Tell me, Fitz," he said. "What do think of Elizabeth?"

"I think Miss Bennet is absolutely delightful, and I am very happy that the two of you have finally found your way to this day. I cannot think of anyone better suited to you, cousin."

"And if we had not 'found our way'? Would you have pursued her?" Mr. Darcy asked out of curiosity. Colonel Fitzwilliam was not certain what his cousin was driving at, but he tried to avoid the obvious trap.

"You must remember, Darce," he said with a forced laugh, "I was spoken for before you and Miss Bennet--."

"No, no, I realize that. But if your Miss Crenshaw did not exist, and I was 'out of the picture,' as they say...would you pursue Miss Bennet?" Colonel Fitzwilliam shifted his feet uneasily.

"I think any man given such an opportunity would be a fool not to," he admitted, hoping he had neither betrayed his vows to Olivia nor injured himself in the eyes of his best friend and closest relation. "Tell me, Darce. Were the situation reversed, would you pursue Miss Crenshaw?" Mr. Darcy paused and thought for a moment.

"No," he shook his head. "Your Miss Crenshaw is lovely and charming," he began, smiling self-consciously as he had ever since the Colonel's remark several months earlier. "But she has never inspired me as Elizabeth has. Besides," he added. "She has always preferred you, and that is a character flaw I could never tolerate." The men chuckled good-naturedly. "Fitzwilliam, did you ever think that you and I would stand at the altar together?" Mr. Darcy asked wistfully, still staring out the window as the Colonel headed for the door.

"Never," replied the Colonel with a wink, "I never dreamed of asking for your hand." He closed the door quickly as the pillow was launched at his head.

"Bingley, do not attempt to convince me that you were not nervous on your wedding day," Mr. Darcy said, self-consciously shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"At least my hands were not quivering like the leaves on the trees outside," Mr. Bingley retorted, but Mr. Darcy snorted derisively.

"If your hands were not shaking it was because I did such a good job of holding you upright and still. I did not want you swooning at the altar."

"I did not swoon!" Mr. Bingley insisted. "I had merely tripped entering the church," he added defiantly.

"Exactly how does a man manage to have both his knees buckle as he trips over a mote of dust anyway?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. He was sprawled in a chair in the small waiting room with the other men of the wedding party. His brother John chuckled at the memory of Mr. Bingley's 'accident' at the church as the Colonel nonchalantly examined first one, then the other immaculate cuff of his shirt. On the surface at least, he appeared to be as calm as his cousin was anxious. Mr. Darcy glanced at the Colonel and resented his self-possession.

"So, old man," the Colonel continued. "Have you any sage advice to impart? After all, you are a married man of some--."

"Seven weeks," Mr. Bingley volunteered.

"Six weeks, three days--do not exaggerate," the Colonel corrected him. Mr. Bingley squinted and tried to confirm the Colonel's calculations. "Well, that will keep him busy for some time. I daresay we will not learn anything from him, Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled.

"You might ask me," John offered. Mr. Darcy paused in his pacing as the Colonel turned an appraising eye on his brother.

"You? You are a wizened old veteran of five years of marriage--quite useless, I am afraid."

"Useless?" exclaimed the Viscount.

"Gemma has you trained to come to heel like a favorite hunter. Darcy and I have no intention of following your example, thank you very much." The Colonel looked at Darcy for confirmation, but his cousin was too absorbed in wringing his hands. The Colonel rose and went to peek into the chapel, where the pews were rapidly filling up. He closed the door and turned to watch his cousin's perambulations. "What are you so worried about, Darce? Your Miss Bennet cannot escape. The property is far too large and she has no transport," he smiled. Mr. Darcy rose to the bait.

"Suppose she has a confederate?" he asked, unsure whether he was playing the Colonel's game or indulging his own paranoia. The Colonel winked at Mr. Bingley.

"It was not my idea to invite Fowler to the ceremony." Mr. Darcy's reaction was priceless. He did no more than freeze in his tracks and stare at a blank wall, but the three men found it hysterical. Mr. Darcy turned with a smile on his face, as if he, too, had enjoyed the joke. He made his way to the table and poured out a glass of water as steadily as his hands would allow.

"I understand he has taken quite an interest in your sister," John said. It took all Mr. Darcy's years of practice in self-discipline to spare his morning coat a spontaneous shower. He prayed that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not noticed. He had, but for the first time that day, the Colonel took pity on him. After a second, Mr. Darcy realized that his cousin had addressed Mr. Bingley.

"...He has not spoken to me, and I really do not know how Caroline would feel about it," Mr. Bingley was saying. Just then, the door opened and Mr. Bennet slipped into the room. Mr. Darcy's eyes bulged, and Mr. Bennet did not scruple to hide his amusement.

"All right, it is all right, Mr. Darcy," He chuckled. "Your Lizzy has not flown away. All is well with both ladies," he said, with a nod to the Colonel. "Lizzy asked me to bring this to you. She said it might make you feel better." He handed Mr. Darcy a small package, and quietly left the room.

"Reading his emotions from--how far is the house from here, Richard? A quarter mile, would you say? And you think Darcy will escape 'training'? He had better concede defeat now and spare himself the humiliation of having to bear your disappointment at a later date," chided John.

"How long does this 'training' take?" asked Bingley. John and the Colonel exchanged a knowing glance, and tried to hide their smiles as Mr. Darcy unwrapped the object, which was swaddled in a lady's handkerchief. He smiled as he lifted the silver vial, carefully opened it and held it to his nose. John and Colonel Fitzwilliam exchanged a second glance and shrugged their shoulders. But Mr. Bingley, who had been patiently awaiting a response from the brothers, immediately recognized the tiny gift.

"That was--," he exclaimed, pointing at the vial. "I..." Mr. Darcy smiled at him, and Mr. Bingley dropped his arm. Mr. Darcy closed the vial and placed it in his pocket.

"I will explain another time, Bingley. Right now we have a wedding to attend," he said as the boys' choir could be heard lifting its voice in song. John rose and clapped his brother on the shoulder and Mr. Bingley led the gentlemen into the chapel to assume their positions.

• • •

"Will you sit down? You are driving me to distraction!" The blizzard of white silk and lace swirled once more as the frenzied bride came to a stop. "What is the matter?"

"Oh, I do not know. All of a sudden, I feel so--wait a minute! Why are you not nervous?" Elizabeth smiled serenely and shook her head.

"I am afraid that is your doing, Livy. I admit that I did awaken to some anxiety, but after our talk this morning I felt much better. You succeeded in putting all my fears to rest."

"How on earth did I manage to do that?" Olivia asked as she took a seat as close to Elizabeth as her voluminous gown allowed. "Perhaps I would do well to listen to my own counsel." Again Elizabeth smiled.

"I doubt it would do you any good at all. You see you convinced me that Fitzwilliam and I were meant for each other. I can face anything, confident in his love." Olivia rolled her eyes and rose to resume pacing. "Livy! Olivia Crenshaw!" pleaded Elizabeth. Olivia stopped again, and sighed deeply.

"You are absolutely right, Lizzy...knowing that you and Mr. Darcy are soul mates does nothing for my anxiety."

"But why should you be anxious? You love Colonel Fitzwilliam and he clearly adores you. You have wanted nothing more than to be his wife these last ten years and now it is about to happen. Everything you have ever dreamed of..."

"Please, Lizzy. Do stop trying to be helpful. You are making matters much worse," cried Olivia as Mrs. Gardiner, Mrs. Bennet and Jane entered the room.

"Oh, Lizzy! You should see the beautiful decorations in the ballroom downstairs. Everything so elegant! Everything so tasteful! And the silver--I have never seen such an extensive service, although I am sure it is nothing to yours at Pemberley. It is very likely that the Fitzwilliams' silver is very old and Mr. Darcy's will be more modern, you see. But it was such a lovely service...I was near blinded by all the gleaming finery. And the church, I am sure, is just as lovely, although I do not like chrysanthemums. Lady Rebecca has put chrysanthemums everywhere. She should have used roses as I did at Jane's wedding...."

"It is October, Fanny," sighed Mrs. Gardiner, who had spent the morning in Mrs. Bennet's company inspecting the arrangements. Since the mother of the bride had been effectively prevented from interfering in the wedding plans by the considerable distance between Derbyshire and Longbourn, she had worried Elizabeth to pieces over the bridal clothes. Since their arrival at Matlock, Elizabeth had had only a few moments of respite, as her mother spent all of her time commenting on the insufficiency of the arrangements and making declarations about Elizabeth's future happiness to all who would listen. Elizabeth bore it all with equanimity, however, for this morning she would leave her mother's home for good and begin a life as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.

"You know, Lizzy, I think that we should all pay a visit to Pemberley before we return to Hertfordshire," Mrs. Bennet said for the fifth time in as many days. "It will be a while before we are able to come back to Derbyshire, and I would so like to see my daughter properly settled in her new home." Elizabeth forced a smile as Olivia bent and repeated in her ear, "I can face anything, confident in his love." Elizabeth looked at Olivia beseechingly, but "those eyes" only worked on Olivia when a certain gentleman used them.

"Fanny, the dear girl is going to be on her honeymoon!" argued Mrs. Gardiner. "She will have enough to do in getting settled without having her family underfoot." She looked exhausted from the ordeal of touring the house and grounds with Mrs. Bennet.

"A girl needs her mother most at such a time! I was there for Jane the very day after her marriage to Mr. Bingley and everything has gone smoothly for you has it not, Jane?" Elizabeth smiled at Jane's horrified expression, which was concealed from Mrs. Bennet by the fact that Jane was behind her mother. Just a few days earlier, Elizabeth and Olivia had been subjected to an hour of Mrs. Bennet's marital advice, and it had taken several hours' discussion with Jane and Mrs. Gardiner to undo the damage.

'Yes, Mama,' said Jane, "But perhaps Mr. Darcy would not wish to have company just yet."

"Pish tosh! We are not 'company,' we are family. It would just be Mr. Bennet and myself, your three sisters and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and their four children. And I am certain that Mr. Bingley will want to stay as well. That would add him and you, and Miss Bingley..." Elizabeth's serenity began to crumble.

"No, Mama! Mr. Darcy and I are to be traveling very soon, I believe. He has hinted about a trip to the Continent," Elizabeth dissembled. Mr. Darcy had spoken to her about traveling, but "someday soon" hardly reflected an immediate commitment. Mr. Bennet stepped into the reception room where the party was assembled. Elizabeth smiled her relief as her father came to stand before her.

"I have delivered your parcel as ordered, madam," he said with a formal bow.

"And how was Mr. Darcy?"

"Very much in need of it, whatever it was," Mr. Bennet chuckled. "He was as nervous as a schoolboy awaiting an audience with the headmaster." Elizabeth smiled, and tears welled up in her father's eyes. He placed a hand on her cheek and she nestled against it.

"He will recover when he sees you. On second thought," he smiled impishly, "He will very likely forget his name when he sees you. You are a vision, Elizabeth." Elizabeth fought back tears as she kissed her father on the cheek.

"Thank you, Papa."

"You do look lovely, Lizzy," echoed Mrs. Gardiner. "You both look beautiful." She turned to Olivia and took her hands in her own. "I only wish Bethany could be here to see you today. I know she would be very proud of the woman you have become."

"I would not be the woman I am today if it were not for your loving guidance and wisdom," Olivia said as she hugged Mrs. Gardiner fiercely. "I have come to love you as dearly as my own mother. I could not have asked for better godparents than you and Mr. Gardiner," she said between sniffles and tears.

"What is this? Tears on the happiest day of your life?" chided Mr. Crenshaw, who had come to escort his daughter to the chapel. Olivia rushed into her father's arms and began to cry anew. Mrs. Gardiner shook her head and took the girl in hand. She fussed with Olivia's rumpled veil and reddened eyes before they joined Mr. Crenshaw in his carriage. The Bennets rode in a separate carriage.

"I do wish you had worn a white gown, Lizzy. Olivia Crenshaw chose a white gown and is very likely to outshine you at the altar. And her gown is so much fuller than yours. You should have gotten a longer train..." Elizabeth rested her head on her father's shoulder and paid her mother no heed. Her father kissed her forehead and squeezed the hand he held on her lap.

"...Jane's gown was white. It is all the rage, you know, to wear white on your wedding day. I shall be embarrassed if someone suggests that your gown is an unsuitable color for you..." Jane rolled her eyes and smiled at her sister.

"I think you look lovely, Lizzy. That is the most beautiful pale shade of peach I have ever seen and the embroidery is exquisite. Anyone who thinks that color is unsuitable is an idiot."

"Mrs. Bingley!" exclaimed Mr. Bennet. "I am shocked at your language. An idiot indeed! Anyone who can find a single fault with my Lizzy on this day is nothing short of insane." With that he leaned forward and took Jane's hand and kissed it. Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes and fell silent, pouting at the autumn scenery all the way to Matlock chapel.

• • •

When the carriages pulled up to the church, the ladies alit and were swarmed by their bridesmaids: Mary, Catherine, Lydia and Georgiana all wore gowns of autumnal hues. Georgiana handed Elizabeth a bouquet of orchids picked that morning from Mr. Darcy's conservatory. Olivia received her bouquet from Mary that featured an exotic array of flowers emitting an intoxicating scent. Nestled in the bouquet was a note. Olivia drew it out and returned the bouquet to Mary as she unfolded and read the slip of parchment. She smiled then, and tucked the note into the bodice of her gown. She took up her bouquet again, and smiled confidently at Elizabeth.

"I am ready now," she said.

"What did the note say?" Elizabeth asked as the procession began. Olivia stopped and pulled out the note. Elizabeth laughed aloud at its contents.

"I suppose that is the Colonel's way of assuring you that you are meant for each other," she giggled.

"May I ask what is so funny," Mr. Bennet asked as the brides and their fathers entered the vestibule and paused. Olivia showed him the note, which read:

If you have been waiting all this time to marry me, what are you still doing out there?

"The aisle is not wide enough to admit the four of us," Olivia observed as Edward Crenshaw came to escort Mrs. Gardiner to her place of honor in the front pew. Mr. Douglass did a similar service for Mrs. Bennet, who beamed proudly as she walked down the aisle.

"You go first, Livy. I have been following your lead since the spring, and it only seems fitting that I should follow you down the aisle," suggested Elizabeth.

"But you should go first, Lizzy. You are the elder of us." Elizabeth's eyes opened wide.

"By all of eight days!"

"Why do we not go first, Thomas," Mr. Crenshaw suggested, "And the girls can follow us once they have sorted things out." He offered his arm to Mr. Bennet, but at precisely that minute, the doors opened and Olivia grabbed her father's arm. Immediately, Mr. Crenshaw ceased his teasing and led his daughter down the aisle.

Olivia felt her feet moving, and vaguely sensed the choir at her back, but she could see nothing but a dizzying array of colors. She felt faint and queasy. Mr. Crenshaw squeezed her hand. She looked at him blankly. He smiled and told her to take a deep breath. She did, and for a moment, the world came into focus. She looked ahead and saw the Colonel waiting for her. He was resplendent in his dress uniform, and his impish smile made her laugh aloud. Everything became blurry again as her eyes filled with tears and Olivia had to will herself not to run into his arms. When she reached Colonel Fitzwilliam, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, just as Elizabeth entered the chapel on her father's arm.

Mr. Darcy had been oblivious to his surroundings since he had entered the chapel, so when he heard the sound of laughter, he started. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Olivia seemed to be sharing some private joke. He stared at Olivia for a moment, and then became vaguely aware of his own bride's imminent arrival. He turned, therefore, and looked dazedly up the aisle. What he saw took his breath away.

Elizabeth was positively radiant as she walked, clear-eyed and confident, down the aisle to the smiles and comments of the guests. The candlelight gave a glow to her cheeks, her dress, and her eyes, which were fixed first upon her father and then on Fitzwilliam Darcy. He returned her smile as she reached him. As Mr. Darcy extended his hand towards her he abruptly confronted an impediment, as Mrs. Bennet lunged from her seat to embrace her daughter.

"Oh, Lizzy! You look so beautiful, so elegant. Let me kiss you!" A surprised Elizabeth submitted to the kiss, and Mrs. Bennet kissed her bemused son-in-law for good measure before Mr. Bennet succeeded in returning her to her place on the pew. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy turned to the altar to recite their vows.

Olivia would later say that she heard nothing, felt nothing, and in fact had little memory of the service. She simply knelt when the Colonel did, rose when he rose, and repeated the words of the clergyman as she was bidden to do. She did regain her senses, however, when she felt the Colonel squeeze her hand. Olivia blinked and looked into his eyes. They seemed to be filled with merriment and mischief, although the rest of his face seemed very solemn. She felt her hand being squeezed again, and she looked down and saw the band of gold and opals that he had placed on her finger. Olivia blushed furiously, realizing that she had missed the words she had for so long hoped to hear from his lips. She silently berated herself as she heard Mr. Darcy plight his troth with Elizabeth. She glanced at the couple as Elizabeth received her ring, and then looked into Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes once more. They definitely appeared to be laughing at her, and Olivia knew for certain that future generations of Fitzwilliams would laugh at the old saw about how Olivia Fitzwilliam "missed" her own wedding. She suddenly felt herself being kissed--a chaste, sweet kiss from her new husband--and Olivia blushed again.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, would always remember every detail of her wedding, from the color of the clergyman's eyes to the angelic voices of the boys in the choir loft, to the pattern woven into Mr. Darcy's waistcoat. Mr. Darcy had stood stiffly at attention at first, practically glaring at the officiant. Elizabeth nudged him gently and smiled reassuringly when he looked into her eyes. She felt the tension drain from his body then, and he grinned through the remainder of the ceremony. He spoke his vows clearly and without hesitation, and kissed her as enthusiastically as Mrs. Bennet had done. When the ceremony was over, Elizabeth turned to Olivia and the ladies exchanged a warm hug before they allowed their new husbands to lead them from the church. Mr. Darcy led Elizabeth to his carriage, blithely ignoring the chatter of Mrs. Bennet as he went. He felt uncharacteristically giddy as he smiled at his new bride.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, as tears came to his eyes. He reached out and lightly brushed his hand against her cheek. "Do you realize that I looked upon you for the first time a year ago today? That experience changed my life forever. If I knew then what I know now..." Elizabeth would not let him finish. She placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

"Mr. Darcy," she smiled archly.

"Yes, Mrs. Darcy?" her husband replied.

"It was a lovely wedding, was it not?"

"Yes it was..." Mr. Darcy took the subtle hint, and their painful past was never spoken of again, except as a cautionary tale to their five sons as they approached marriageable age.

As for Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam--or rather General and Mrs. Fitzwilliam--the long-suffering Olivia had to endure years of teasing about how she had not paid attention in church and had unwittingly promised to do any number of extraordinary things. The couple had only one child, a daughter named Elizabeth Jane, who grew up to marry Nicholas Darcy, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy's second son. Young Elizabeth paid very careful attention at her wedding, having heard for years of the dire consequences that might ensue if she did not.

The Fitzwilliams and Darcys remained the closest of friends. When the General retired, some five years after his marriage to Olivia, he and his wife devoted their energies to improving and expanding their tiny estate, which eventually became quite prosperous. And what about the Little Colonel? He settled down, too, taking up residence with his owners. The chocolate labador--who was never called by the name Olivia gave him (Hubert Fitzpuppy)--went on to become the sire of some thirty excellent hunters and unusually large lap dogs, and the Fitzwilliams gained renown as the finest breeders in the country.

FINIS