Chapter forty-nine.

Less than an hour after Miss Bingley had left, and still tortured by memories of Elizabeth smiling at Cresswell across a card table, Darcy’s frustrations had grown into an overwhelming urge to hit something. Rather than taking out his ill humour on his servants, he walked across Mayfair, entering the nondescript portal of the small salle d'armes he favoured, situated in a little alley just off St. James's Square.

He found fencing to be both an enjoyable and a rewarding pastime, with the right partner, someone who offered up a bit of a challenge—both mental and physical. While Darcy would never claim to be the best swordsman gracing this particular academy, he considered himself far from the worst, and he tended to pit himself against only the most experienced of the gentlemen who attended; setting gruelling expectations of his own performance and pushing himself to attain those goals he sought to achieve.

This afternoon he had been fortunate. Two gentlemen he had practised with in the past were present, and they had fought strenuous bouts leaving him weary; banishing, for the moment, any thoughts of Miss Bennet or her erstwhile card partner.

Thanking the maître for his advice regarding the positioning of his leading foot, Darcy walked towards a side door, intending to change his clothes and spend a few hours at White's, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Darcy, we meet again! It seems we are bumping into each other with an increasing frequency." Lord Cresswell held up his sword in front of his face, inspecting the edge for damage. "This must be fate, for I have been thinking of you this morning."

"Really?" Darcy raised an eyebrow and gave an unstudied look of disinterest as he ran a cloth down the length of his own blade prior to storing it away in its case.

"You are leaving?" Cresswell looked around the room, as though assessing the talents of the other occupants. "I noticed you practising here in the past, and witnessed your skill. I am surprised we have never fenced against one another before."

Darcy blotted the sweat from his brow and the back of his neck, but remained silent. After Cresswell's behaviour towards Elizabeth at Rempstone House the previous evening, and the memory of the vile gossip he had heard that day, the chances of him remaining civil were slim.

Cresswell, however, appeared undaunted by his lack of response. "Are you at your leisure now, sir, or do you find yourself too fatigued from your earlier exertions?"

Darcy debated whether his unanticipated challenge was one of a sporting man trying his skills against an unfamiliar opponent, or a man in love testing a rival for weaknesses. The reason for the challenge made no difference; Darcy's pride would not allow him to turn away from this confrontation, regardless of how tired he might feel. "I am ready when you are, sir," he replied. Freeing his sword from its case, he worked the muscles of his right shoulder and arm as he returned to the piste.

The maître signalled to one of his young assistants to oversee the assault, confident that both participants were sufficiently experienced and well matched. Darcy and Cresswell took their places on the floor, and brought up their swords in salute.

As the two men faced each other, Darcy noticed something he had not seen during their earlier conversation. A steely glint of determination flashed in Cresswell's eyes as he assumed the 'en garde' position. Darcy mirrored his opponent's stance.

A silence descended as the spectators—having little else to do—turned their attention to the pair in the middle of the room. They placed wagers on the outcome in low whispers as the combatants waited each other out, seeing who would attack first.

Cresswell lunged forward in the hope that Darcy's lassitude might slow his reactions, earning the Viscount an early advantage.

Darcy, however, had anticipated the attack and he parried it cleanly, but his riposte went wide, allowing Cresswell to deliver a quick thrust that Darcy struggled to block and he acknowledged the first successful hit in Cresswell's favour.

Moving back into position, Cresswell paused for a moment before reaching forward, tapping the end of Darcy's blade with his own—goading him into an attack—but Darcy would not be pushed. The Viscount then launched a blistering series of attacks, feints and thrusts, forcing Darcy to give ground as he parried each stroke of the phrase cleanly, if not quite as elegantly as his opponent.

Stepping back, Darcy increased the distance between them; giving himself some space. He had not realised just how much his earlier efforts had drained him until he had been on the receiving end of the Viscount's most recent combination. He looked across the measure at his opponent.

Although he had not yet scored a second hit, his lordship held the advantage. In place of his customary amiability, Cresswell wore a dark, brooding scowl and his eyes glinted with barely suppressed anger.

Forcing himself to concentrate on his opponent's weapon, Darcy recalled the instructions of his old sword master. To defend, you must be able to perceive the attack. Look steadfastly at the hilt of the adversary's sword. Do not look to the eyes. Darcy did not need to look in the man’s eyes to know that something had infuriated the Viscount beyond measure, and those emotions could work against him. An angry man did not think clearly, and Cresswell might struggle to plan or easily predict the natural conclusion of a phrase.

Cresswell's rapid motion shook Darcy from his thoughts as he let fly another flurry of movement, thrusting first high then low, leaving Darcy floundering as he struggled to parry each stroke.

Willing his mind clear, Darcy sensed that Cresswell wanted him to attack, in order to wear him down further. It was a sound technique; one Darcy would have adopted himself in similar circumstances. Instead, he maintained his defensive posture, conserving his energy until the perfect moment to strike presented itself.

Without warning, Cresswell raised the pace of his attack; lunging wildly towards Darcy as though fighting for his life. Darcy had to step back again as he parried the thrusts, before twisting his wrist and sending a riposte towards Cresswell's open side, scoring his first hit.

Cresswell snarled as he felt the touch, and wordlessly stalked back to the centre of the piste, leaving the assistant to acknowledge the hit. Anger and frustration radiated from him, obvious even to a casual observer. Darcy had never seen the man so out of control before.

Encouraged by signs of Cresswell's own depleted energy, Darcy finally stepped forward to attack; working methodically through a complex combination as Cresswell kept up with him, blow for blow. He blocked yet another attempt by Cresswell to get inside his arm with a circular parry, gathering his opponent's sword as the edges of the blades grazed with a metallic rasp, until they were mere inches from his face.

They stood close, pushing against each other with only their crossed blades between them; neither prepared to back down. Along with the anger, Darcy now saw a second emotion in those troubled blue eyes; something he could not immediately put his finger on. At that moment, he realised this was much more than just a test of skill to his opponent. "What is wrong with you?" he whispered angrily.

Cresswell’s lips pursed as he pushed Darcy away and retreated, before bringing his blade to en garde once more.

With a sigh, Darcy followed suit; his desire to win all but smothered by his exhaustion. Breathing deeply, he waited for the attack he knew to expect, before a flurry of parries and ripostes moved the men back and forth across the room. Darcy feinted to the left before bringing his blade up, across and round, catching the Viscount off guard. A twist and flick of his wrist sent Cresswell's blade skittering across the floor, fracturing the button shielding the point.

With barely a moment's hesitation, Cresswell swept up his sword and before Darcy even had the chance to return to his position, the Viscount had the now bared tip pointing directly at his throat. The spectators lined up around the edge of the room reduced to an eerie silence as they realised the assault had moved beyond mere friendly practice.

"I have every reason in the world to resent you," his lordship hissed between clenched teeth.

Darcy felt the prick of the blade's point against the hollow of his throat but, could think of no reason for his opponent to bear such a grudge against him. Not only had Cresswell enjoyed Elizabeth's company at Rempstone House, but now this foul rumour about his scandalous intentions had grown out of nowhere and threatened to damage her reputation. He would not sit back and allow anyone to harm her respectability.

Waving away the outraged assistant, Darcy took two slow steps back, out of range of any immediate danger and studied his opponent. The sight shocked him. He now recognised the haunted look in Cresswell's eyes. He had seen the same hopelessness in the mirror at Rosings that fateful day in April, although, under the circumstances, he could not imagine why Cresswell should feel such despair.

"You must enlighten me, sir." He pitched his frigid tone for Cresswell's ears alone. "For I understood the situation to be quite the opposite." He returned to en garde, fully prepared to resume their match, despite the danger. Darcy had been unable to keep the bitterness from his voice but he no longer had any interest in masking his true feelings. He had wanted to spend time with Elizabeth the previous evening. He should have been the recipient of her laughing smile. Cresswell obviously did not consider himself the fortunate one between them. Those memories fuelled his anger and the ferocity of his attack took the Viscount by surprise.

Parrying the blade to the left, Cresswell hesitated, frowning at Darcy's reply. However, he had no respite as Darcy came back at him quicker than before. The ringing of the blades reverberated around the room as the two men parried, cut and thrust; their feet dancing back and forth as each man fought to overcome the other.

Finally, he pressed forward, crushing Darcy's sword arm between them. "You should learn to appreciate your good fortune, Darcy ... of being your own master; answerable to no one." Cresswell’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "You do not need approval for your choice of wife. Nobody will tell you who you must or must not marry."

"That is little consolation when the lady I most esteem is so attentive to you. Yet you repay her interest by treating her in an infamous manner. Miss Bennet is gentle born, and does not deserve such base attentions."

Cresswell lowered his blade, his face twisted with confusion. "Base attentions? What the devil are you saying?"

Tired of the fencing—with both words and blades—Darcy signalled the end of the bout and made a half-hearted salute before grabbing Cresswell firmly by the elbow, propelling him to a side room and slamming the door behind them. Taken by surprise, his opponent failed to object to Darcy's behaviour until they were already alone.

Having lost what little patience had, Darcy pushed the Viscount against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one hand while the edge of his sword lay across Cresswell's neck. "Do not lie to me. You must know what is being said around town about Miss Bennet."

"I do not. Tell me, at once!"

"That you intend to make her your mistress."

Cresswell dropped his sword onto the bench. "I would never consider such a thing. Surely you know me better than that!"

"I thought I did, but the overwhelming evidence proved me wrong. It is common knowledge. Nathan Bennet is incensed. It was all I could do to dissuade him from calling you out."

"The young fool. I would never have accepted his challenge. Besides, does he not know he would lose?"

"If these rumours had been about your sister, what would you do?"

Breathing heavily, the Viscount deflated. "The same, of course. Truly, though, I know nothing of these rumours, but if they are as bad as you say … well, that would explain why Nathan has been so cold with me of late. But surely you must know my intentions towards Miss Bennet were always perfectly correct."

Darcy laughed bitterly. "How should I? Watching the two of you together at Rempstone’s only confirmed my fears."

"You have no reason to be concerned," Cresswell replied with a sigh. "My efforts were ever in vain; while I'm sure she finds me pleasant enough company, I do not think I ever truly won her heart, despite giving it my best shot." He looked warily down at the length of steel pressed against his throat. "Besides, you will have plenty of opportunity to press your suit with Miss Bennet when..."—his shoulders sagged, and he let out a ragged sigh—"...when Lady Augusta crows to all her friends about my forthcoming marriage to her niece."

Her niece? Darcy lowered his sword and stepped back, but could only stare dumbly at the Viscount. Finding his voice, his first question was, "But what of Miss Bennet?"

Rubbing his neck where Darcy's sword had raised a red welt, Cresswell chuckled; a sound at variance with his situation. "That is why I cannot help liking you, Darcy, despite everything. I knew, as soon as I saw you that first morning at Gracechurch Street, something had got under your skin, but I did not recognise the source soon enough." He dropped down heavily onto the bench, dragging a hand over his face. "Miss Darcy's friendship with Miss Bennet was certainly providential for you. You played more than just your cards close to your chest. I had no idea she had captured your interest until I saw the two of you in Bond Street. You are a lucky man. She is rather special, is she not? Despite my misfortunes, I can at least console myself with the knowledge that she has a worthy suitor waiting to protect her."

"Yes, protect her from the slanderous gossip which you have done nothing to counter."

His sigh combined both anger and exhaustion. "How could I when this is the first I have heard of it? God, what a mess. You must tell me the worst." When Darcy described Miss Bingley’s visit, Cresswell swore loudly; slamming his hand onto the bench. "This has to be Henry’s doing."

"How?"

"Once, when I returned from visiting Cheapside, he suggested if I was so interested in Miss Bennet I should make her my mistress, believing that I would never dream of a different connection. Angered, I challenged him, but he laughed it off, insisting he was only joking. Henry was more than half-drunk at the time, and I didn't thrash him, as I should have done. Naturally, I could not confess how I truly felt, knowing he would laugh, but I thought I had at least made my opinion clear. You know what he is like; probably repeated the same joke to all and sundry, not realising how our close connection would give veracity to the fantasy he created. If he was here now, I swear I'd break his neck.

"I would never do anything to hurt Miss Bennet. Why would I? I had no interest in her as my mistress ... not when I wanted her as my wife."

Darcy stepped back, surprised by the Viscount's words. "You would have proposed?"

"Yes. Had she offered me any encouragement when I returned from the country, I would have taken every advantage of it. I compliment your taste; a rare gem like her rarely appears in society these days."

Wiping his face with a cloth, Darcy could not be surprised that someone else saw Elizabeth’s worth as he did. "I did not imagine ... but surely your family would never have approved?"

"My father is a crusty old devil, to be sure, and he would not have liked it above half, but I could have worked him around to my way of thinking. I'm sure Miss Bennet could have charmed him well enough."

"If that is the case, why then did you propose to Miss Jasper?"

Shaking his head, Cresswell sighed. "Trust me, the decision was not mine. I went to the Earl, confident of gaining his support for my suit, only to find out that my ability to choose my own path in life had been cruelly rescinded, and betrothal to another handed to me as a fait accompli. While money was once no issue to me, Miss Bennet's circumstances are now sadly insufficient for my family's most pressing needs." His confidence faltered, leaving a shadow of his usual self. "While I visited my mother in the country, my father suffered a devastating run of luck at the tables. He never did learn when to get up and walk away; always hoping that the next turn of the cards would set him to rights. The old fool almost wiped out everything. He even lost the money put aside for Eleanor’s dowry.

"We have been forced to raise a considerable sum at short notice to avoid losing our estate altogether, while the house in town has had to be put up for sale, although I cannot say that I will miss it; draughty old place. Howard & Gibbs have put up some of the cash, but Miss Jasper's fortune of forty thousand pounds will recoup a considerable part of it, and allow Eleanor to wed. I could not afford to marry Miss Bennet, as much as I wanted to."

While this news did not surprise him—fortunes were won and lost at the tables of all the best clubs in Piccadilly—Darcy could not help but feel sympathy for the loss Cresswell would now have to suffer because of his father's poor judgement and ill luck.

"When I thought it could not get worse, the Earl told me of the arrangement he had made for my forthcoming marriage." His eyes darkened as he recalled the scene. "I explained to him that I could not marry the girl, because I loved Miss Bennet, but he ... he laughed at me. My own father. While love is all well and good, he said, it will not keep the wolves, or our creditors, from the door."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"I think you are sorry as well, despite the fact that my ill luck leaves the field clear for you. You really are far too honourable for your own good."

Darcy shook his head sadly, as he ran his fingers through sweat-soaked hair, but remained silent.

Leaning back against the wall, his lordship took a deep breath, letting the air drain from him. When next he spoke, his voice was more light hearted. "I understood from Mrs Bennet that the family were planning to return to Hertfordshire soon. I assume you will be following them."

"Your assumption would be wrong. My sister and I will be leaving for Derbyshire at the end of the week."

"If that is so, you are a fool. Were I fortunate enough to be in your position, I would not allow Miss Bennet out of my sight."

"Ah, but you did not allow me to finish. Georgiana has extended an invitation to Miss Bennet to join us, and her father has agreed."

Shaking his head, Creswell smiled. "Perfect! I wish my sisters were as useful as yours seems to be. That explains your smug satisfaction when we met that afternoon. I should have known you had something up your sleeve."

Darcy accepted the compliment in the spirit it had been given. "If I was satisfied, it did not last long. I hesitate to point it out, under the circumstances, but you spent most of yesterday evening with Miss Bennet, not I."

"You can hardly blame me for wanting to while away my last hours of freedom with her when I had received such a shock only a few hours earlier! We played a couple of hands of piquet—a game she sorely needs some practice with, by the way—and then, at the end, who does she look for but you!"

"Me?"

"Of course. It was obvious. She only sat with me to annoy my dear godmother. I'm surprised you didn't hear Lady Augusta's voice clear across the square this morning at breakfast. She was fit to be tied! From what I could gather from her ravings, she had already told Miss Bennet that any attempt to snare either of us would fail, and she should remember her place."

Darcy knew he should have been there to protect Elizabeth. Fortunately, she was more than capable of looking after herself. "But surely if your godmother knew of your betrothal, there was no need for her to speak to Miss Bennet."

"Lady Augusta had no idea it was on the cards. My father hates her; thinks she's an interfering old cat. He went straight to Miss Jasper's father to seal the deal. Poor Miss Jasper knew nothing of it herself until this morning. That was why the Dowager tried to scare Miss Bennet away." He grinned. "Well, I'm persuaded that you know her well enough to realise she does not appreciate being told what to do. Spirited isn't the half of it! The upshot of it was that I was no more than a handy bit of retaliation." Cresswell shrugged, as though it had meant nothing to him, but Darcy was not fooled. Even his half-hearted smile was short lived. "As soon as she felt she had made her point with the Dowager she went looking for you, but I think you had gone home by then. Why did you leave so soon?"

"Because I could not stand by and watch you talking to Miss Bennet."

The Viscount punched Darcy playfully on the shoulder. "Oh, my dear boy, you do have it bad! I am sorry for you. Love really is the devil. Had I known that I was going to cause you so much trouble, I might have stayed away … or I might not. It was damned painful to hear that little laugh of hers when I knew that I would soon be shackled to a veritable icicle."

Wiping his blade down, and storing it safely away in its case for the last time that evening, Darcy turned back to his friend. "May I ask which Miss Jasper is your intended?"

His lordship’s laugh was mirthless. "Well that was one decision I did get to make, at least. I thought my choice would be obvious, Miss Elizabeth Jasper, of course. Her name, for me, has to be her most attractive asset. Although she is but a pale imitation of the real thing, I suppose marriage to anyone is preferable to being poor, don’t you think?"

"I wish you joy, Cresswell. Under the circumstances you will have to make the best of it."

"The Devil I will." He looked up at Darcy, a crooked grin on his face as he changed the subject. "I assume that your time in the country will culminate with a conversation with Mr. Bennet, with whom, if I recall, you have cultivated a useful friendship."

"Believe me, nothing is ever quite so straight forward where Miss Bennet in concerned."

"In that case, I would suggest you get on with it. The announcement of my betrothal will go a long way towards dealing with the mess Henry's sad sense of humour seems to have created, and when you marry Miss Bennet everyone will realise how improbable the rumour was, and she will be exonerated of any lingering doubts."

"I wish it were that simple."

"It is simple." The Viscount leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face. "In fact I have a foolproof method for you. All you have to do is go to Mrs Bennet and tell her that you are in love with her daughter. I can guarantee that will solve your problem. She will have the two of you down the aisle of St. George's before you know where you are! I doubt there is any problem insurmountable to Mrs Bennet when it comes to getting her daughters wed." When he saw Darcy’s uncertain look, he smiled. "You don't have to look so uncomfortable about it. She is not that bad."

"Would you have been happy to introduce her as your mother-in-law?"

"If it meant being married to Miss Bennet, then yes, I would. You need only spend a little time with her mother and you will soon have her eating out of your hand."

Darcy grinned. "I’d rather she use a plate, like everyone else."

~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~

Chapter fifty.

Early Sunday morning, Thomas Bennet spread his newspaper out on the breakfast table. Knowing his wife and daughters remained upstairs, dressing for church, allowed him the leisure to contemplate how pleasant a house could be when quiet. However, he had barely three minutes in which to enjoy the tranquillity before Mrs Bennet’s strident voice screeched his name in the hall.

Throwing the door open wide, she invaded his solitude like the French forces storming into Almeida, addressing her husband in an agitated manner. "Sarah is upstairs, folding Mary's dresses. She says that she has been told to pack the girls' trunks, ready for our departure."

"Yes, dear. I think I have mentioned my intention to return home once or twice this week. Do you have a problem?"

"Problem? Of course I do! Is it not my duty to instruct our maid?"

"You are quite correct, my dear. Thank you for pointing out that important distinction. I would not dream of trespassing on your domain. However, you will no doubt remember I suggested our possessions should be readied for transport. At the time you assured me you would see to it. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the task not even begun, although we leave in the morning. If I did not know better I might begin to suspect you of avoiding our return to Longbourn."

"What purpose will it serve? There are precious few eligible gentlemen around the parish at any time of the year. We should stay in town for the sake of our daughters!"

"And I need to leave for the sake of my sanity!"

He did not doubt his wife had more to say on the subject, but she was temporarily silenced as the door opened and Nathan entered the room.

"Ah, Nathan. Have you taken breakfast?" Receiving a negative response, Mrs Bennet invited him to sit down and help himself to the food on the table, while pouring him a cup of tea. "Tell your uncle how good it would be for the girls if they were to stay in town."

The young man shrugged. "I am sure they would not object, but I understand why you need to return to Longbourn."

"But you would prefer to remain here with your grandmother, would you not?"

"Not at all. I have other plans for the summer."

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. "No need to concern your aunt with unnecessary details, young man."

"My thoughts are with our daughters," Mrs Bennet continued. "Lady Augusta may invite us to Rempstone House again."

Nathan, caught mid-sip, choked on his tea, sending the contents all over Mrs Gardiner’s pristine white table linen. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he apologised. "I think it unlikely you will receive any further invitations. My aunt and uncle were blessed with a happy event yesterday evening, which will, no doubt, preclude them from entertaining for some time."

"I had no idea Lady Rempstone's confinement was so close! Will your aunt recover? Is it well?"

"I have not been told otherwise. They did not expect the child so soon. I only found out because my arrival home coincided with that of the doctor, and servants carrying towels and hot water. As a consequence of all the excitement, cook was late serving dinner and I thought I would starve. If they were boiling all that water, they might as well have thrown in some meat and vegetables at the same time."

"You gentlemen are all alike; always thinking of your stomach. Was it a male child?"

"No, a girl. She is to be named after her grandmother, poor thing."

"Another daughter? How disappointing! Girls are a sad trial to their parents." Picking up the teapot, she poured herself a second cup. "Perhaps they will be blessed with a son next time. Girls are always more trouble. Look at Lizzy. Now your uncle insists on returning home, she might struggle to keep Lord Cresswell's attention unless we can tempt him into the country." She turned hopeful eyes towards her husband. "Perhaps she can remain here a few weeks longer? My brother will be vastly pleased to have her, and she will be within easy reach of his lordship."

"I am sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings, Aunt, but Lord Cresswell is ..."—clearing his throat, Nathan hooked a finger under his neck cloth, attempting to loosen the constriction—... ah, betrothed."

"Betrothed?" Her teacup clattered onto its saucer. "No, no, no ... it cannot be! Did you not see him on Friday evening, when he showed such delight in Lizzy's company?"

"No, but it does not alter the fact that he will soon be wed to Miss Elizabeth Jasper."

Mr. Bennet sat back in his chair, curious to see his wife's reaction to this unexpected—but not wholly unwelcome—news.

"There must be some mistake. He would never lead my daughter such a pretty dance for nothing. I saw how he looked at her."

"It is no mistake. Lord Cresswell called to see my uncle yesterday morning and was present when grandmother told us. I doubt he would have remained silent had she not been speaking the truth."

Upon such sad confirmation, Mrs Bennet assailed her husband's ears with lamentations of regret, invectives against the conduct of Lord Cresswell and complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage. "I was sure he would make her an offer!" She sniffed into her napkin. "He looked like a man completely besotted!"

Mr. Bennet waited for his wife's grief to subside. "Let us hope Elizabeth's response to the news is more positive."

"Lizzy?" Mrs Bennet pulled her shawl around her shoulders as she dabbed at her reddened eyes. "She will not repine. The fault for not fixing his affections can be put squarely at her feet. She would have secured him if only she had made more of an effort. She had him wrapped around her finger and still let him get away!"

Mr. Bennet watched as Nathan opened his mouth to challenge his aunt's perceptions, but spoke before he provoked further outburst. "Lord Cresswell's change in circumstance will make no difference to Elizabeth. Do you forget she has other plans for the summer?"

"With Miss Darcy, yes I know. But I would have been happier for her if I thought she might find a husband at the same time."

Mr. Bennet shook his head in dismay. Part of him wished his wife could see what he saw in Mr. Darcy; an honourable young man, deeply in love with his daughter. On the other hand, it was perhaps no bad thing if Mrs Bennet remained obtuse to that gentleman's feelings.

"First Mr. Collins, then Mr. Briscoe and now Lord Cresswell! I do not know when I will ever get rid of that girl! Two perfectly good matches ... rejected! And one she lets slip through her fingers when I was convinced she had caught him. If I only had a bit more time in town, I could—"

"No more time, Mrs Bennet. No more time! If the girls have not attracted gentlemen enough while we have been here, they will have to make do with the best Meryton has to offer."

Mr. Bennet's unbending attitude on this subject sent his wife once more into a flurry of complaints and accusations. No amount of begging or pleading would alter his intentions. Eventually, she gave up trying and swept out of the room, to the relief of her husband and nephew.

"You see, Nathan, I was right. From the moment I met Lord Cresswell I did not trust the sight of him. I knew he would end up distressing my family one way or another."

"I heard a suggestion about the Earl having accrued some significant gaming debts. I know not whether it had a bearing on his unexpected betrothal."

"His father is a gamester?" Mr. Bennet smiled as he spread butter on a piece of bread. "I had an idea that might be the case."

"There was a time when I believed Lord Cresswell had less than honourable designs on Lizzy, but Mr. Darcy assured me it was highly unlikely."

Mr. Bennet gained pleasure from the revelation that his nephew had felt able to confide in his good friend. "Well, Mr. Darcy has always seemed to be a fair judge of character, although he might yet reconsider his opinion of Lord Cresswell."

The young man contemplated the dregs in his teacup. After some moments of silence, he smiled. "You harbour hopes that Mr. Darcy will offer for Lizzy."

Mr. Bennet noted absently that his nephew was stating a fact, not asking a question. Leaning back in his chair he steepled his fingers. "Do not mistake me for your aunt. It is her role in life to match make, not mine. Mr. Darcy will do as he wishes."

"And if his wishes include marriage?"

"If Lizzy accepts him, then I will be quite satisfied with such a son-in-law. In fact, I might even prefer him to Bingley."

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

Elizabeth felt all the perverseness of the rector’s sermon that day, when he declaimed from the pulpit on the lengthy subject of filial obedience. Mrs Bennet nodded enthusiastically at each one of his pronouncements; punctuating them with whispered instructions to her daughters to sit up straight, smile and look their best for the young gentlemen present.

The fact that every single, wealthy gentleman in the congregation of St. Peter’s was no doubt in some form of trade appeared to have slipped her mind.

Mrs Bennet was quite out of charity with her, despite Elizabeth having assured her that she had held no expectation of an offer from the Viscount. Unlike her mother, the thought of him married to someone else had not given her any cause for grief. On the contrary, she wished the couple well.

Refusing to speak the words of regret and apology her mother was hoping to hear, Mrs Bennet denounced her as a selfish girl and a shameful example to her sisters.

After returning from church, the occupants of Gracechurch Street spread themselves around the house. A maid guided the Gardiner children back upstairs to the nursery, while Mr. Bennet and his nephew retired to the book room. Mrs Gardiner sat at her desk to compose a letter and Elizabeth attempted to read a book, as Lydia and Kitty volubly begged their mother to take them to the Exeter Exchange to see the menagerie. Mary, on the other hand, expressed a complete lack of interest in wild animals, putting forth her preference for the British Museum instead. The enthusiastic discussion of their proposed destination paused as the doorbell sounded.

Mrs Bennet, still smarting from her husband's insistence on returning home, looked up; her forehead creased into a frown. "Who can that be?"

Elizabeth resolutely kept her place at the table, but Kitty, to satisfy her mother, went to the window. "It's only Mr. Darcy."

A short period of silence followed the announcement, before Mrs Bennet spoke. "What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? He has brought his sister again, no doubt; is it not enough that we dine with them tonight?"

"Oh no, Mama," Kitty explained, her head pressed as close to the windowpane as it could get. "He is quite alone."

Mrs Bennet huffed, drawing her shawl together. "Well, any friend of Mr. Bennet's will always be welcome, I'm sure. I doubt we will see much of him. He must have come to consult on a business matter and will not disturb us with his company. It is typical of your father not to say when he is expecting a guest."

Elizabeth's discomfort grew. Had he really come to see Papa? The memories of her evening at Rempstone House had kept Elizabeth tossing and turning into the early hours; mortified as she imagined what his opinion of her might now be. She had behaved so poorly, attracting attention to herself with her familiar manners towards Lord Cresswell. Had she only known of Mr. Darcy's intention to return that evening she would never have acted out such petty retaliation in a way so contrary to her own feelings. Her astonishment at his coming to Cheapside was equal to anything she had felt when first witnessing his altered behaviour at Longbourn.

Picking up her embroidery, she sat intently at work while striving to compose herself. Voices sounded outside the door before it opened. The sight of Mr. Darcy waiting in the hall made her heart jump. She stabbed her finger with the needle.

As the maid announced Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth—still sucking the blood from her fingertip—remained unaware that she stared at their visitor until his eyes searched the room. Alighting on her, his gaze held hers while he continued to answer her mother's polite questions, as though unwilling to lose sight of her again. Flustered, Elizabeth looked down at her stitches, but not before she recognised that he appeared free from any overt symptom of resentment.

"Well, this is an unexpected pleasure." Mrs Gardiner smiled warmly and bade him sit; offering tea, which he declined. Once the maid had left them, her aunt asked after Miss Darcy.

"My sister had a previous engagement. She was unable to accompany me."

At this moment Lydia, who cared little for Mr. Darcy's good opinion, whispered loudly to Elizabeth—continuing to entreat her support for the scheme to visit the menagerie—but she was in no humour for conversation with anyone except the gentleman sitting across the room from her; and to him she had hardly had the courage to speak at all.

"Mr. Bennet is in his study," her mother said. "I presume you will want to see him."

Mr. Darcy breathed deeply, as though bracing himself for a trial. "Visiting Mr. Bennet was not my object in coming here today."

Elizabeth, now working her needle with an eagerness it did not often command, waited for his next words. Hardly daring to breathe, her dearest wish was that he wanted to speak to her.

"I thought ... that is to say, I ...I have come to see Miss Bennet. I wondered if—"

"Lizzy?" her mother cried, careless of how her astonishment might show her second daughter to less than best advantage.

As it happened, Elizabeth's surprise that he would make his preference so clear meant she overlooked Mrs Bennet's words, as her hope that his esteem had not been completely lost grew in her heart.

Mr. Darcy turned to her, his eyes entreating her agreement. "I hoped Miss Bennet would consent to join me this morning ... for a drive in the park perhaps?"

Aunt Gardiner was quick to give her backing to the scheme. "What an excellent idea! Lizzy has been out of sorts since Lady Rempstone's card party. I am convinced she will feel more like herself after some fresh air."

"Mr. Darcy could always join us at the Exchange?" Kitty suggested.

Mrs Bennet was staring at their guest with a mixture of confusion and hopefulness. "Yes, he could."

Her aunt disagreed. "It may do for the others, but the close confinement with all those animals and dusty straw might be too much for Lizzy. If Mr. Darcy will oblige, the park sounds much more the thing to set her to rights."

"There is nothing wrong with Lizzy's health," Mrs Bennet replied, "but by all means Mr. Darcy may take her out. I certainly can have no objection."

Elizabeth barely knew what reply she gave, but she agreed to change into something more suitable and attend her visitor. Smiling, he thanked her before excusing himself to check on his horses.

"Well, Lizzy, what are you waiting for? Stir yourself!" her mother cried, when he was out of earshot. "Mr. Darcy, of all people, offers to take you for a drive and you sit there as though it is nothing!"

Elizabeth followed her aunt in a daze, her mind too full to pay heed to her surroundings. The image of Mr. Darcy, watching her play cards with Lord Cresswell, had haunted her waking hours; the disturbance of his mind visible in every feature before he had turned his back and walked away.

She had spent hours contemplating the repercussions of her behaviour that evening, but none of her conjectures had included the possibility of Mr. Darcy calling on her today.

Once changed, Elizabeth soon returned to the hall, where Mrs Gardiner held out her bonnet. "Is anything the matter, Lizzy?"

"No, Aunt, truly. I was not expecting to see Mr. Darcy again quite so soon."

"I cannot understand why you should think so."

"No, sister!" Mrs Bennet scuttled from the parlour, misunderstanding what she had heard. "I do not understand either, but there it is. If Mr. Darcy has decided, after all this time, to fix his attention on my Lizzy I will be above everything pleased!" Turning to her daughter, she then gave her some suggestions on how to behave while in his company, concluding with the thought that she might do better if she were to be more like Lydia.

Mrs Gardiner guided Elizabeth to the top of the steps, lowering her voice for her niece's ears only. "I do not profess to understand everything, but one thing is clear. Your Mr. Darcy is very brave."

Elizabeth blushed before she remembered what Lord Cresswell had told her about Mr. Darcy's need to marry well. "He is not my Mr. Darcy." Although a growing part of her hoped his lordship had misunderstood the situation.

"Time will tell, my dear. Now go! Do not force him to keep his horses standing."

She gave her aunt a brief smile before walking down the steps to the yard and taking Mr. Darcy's hand as he assisted her into his curricle. Once safely seated, he climbed up to sit by her side. Saluting Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Bennet with a tip of his beaver, he shook the reins and manoeuvred the horses out of the yard.

Gracechurch Street was unusually busy and Elizabeth remained silent, allowing her companion to concentrate on the carts and wagons that were the lifeblood of the city's thriving trade. His back was straight while his eyes attended to the road ahead. However, once they had pulled onto Cornhill and had negotiated past the Mansion House he relaxed, resting his foot on the rail as he held the reins loosely between his fingers.

Mr. Darcy glanced at her once or twice as they drove, but most of his concentration remained on his horses, allowing Elizabeth to observe him in relative freedom. His brows bore the marks of a thoughtful frown as he guided them through the busy traffic in silence. Only when they reached Pall Mall, and were driving past the impressive columns of Carlton House, did he speak again.

"Come, Miss Bennet, I believe we must have some conversation." He turned his head and smiled. "A very little will suffice."

That smile, so rarely bestowed when she first met him, sent her stomach tumbling like the wheels of his curricle. She had always presumed it to be a gift solely enjoyed by his sister, but it appeared he deemed her a worthy recipient, leaving her confident that his favourable regard might not be completely lost. "And did I not also say a good memory is unpardonable?"

"Yes, I believe you did make some such comment once, although it seems a long time ago now."

Elizabeth silently agreed. So many things had happened since they had met again in London, and yet she had only left Longbourn a little under a fortnight ago. In some respects, their visit to the capital had been short, but she could not think of her friendship with the Darcys as being brief. Sometimes, when she and Mr. Darcy found themselves together, as they were now, it felt as though she had known him for years; his features almost as familiar as her own.

"I did not expect to receive any visitors today, let alone an invitation to drive out."

Although Mr. Darcy's attention never wavered from the road ahead, she still felt under his scrutiny. "I was not convinced Mrs Bennet would allow you to leave with only me for company."

After a moment for his words to sink in, Elizabeth laughed lightly. "And why would she not?"

"She thinks of me as an associate of her husband, rather than a ... a friend of his daughter."

"If she thought that once, you have certainly dispelled her misunderstanding today."

He grinned, which made him look much younger than his years. "And what of you, Miss Bennet? Do you still consider me a friend?"

Blushing, she nodded and silence descended between them again. In truth, while she thought of him as such, she had begun to hope for much more, before the events of Friday evening had cast a pall over her expectations. She was no longer sure a mere friendship with Mr. Darcy would satisfy her.

They passed through the gates and Elizabeth’s eyes were wide as she took in the scene before her. Unlike the peaceful swathe of turf she had encountered on her previous visit, this time the park was a sea of people. A variety of conveyances in all shapes and colours were parked on either side of the road, as their expensively dressed occupants swapped the latest on dits. Gentlemen on horseback tipped their hats to ladies shaded under delicate parasols, while a number of smaller vehicles—like Mr. Darcy’s—carried couples, or those men of fashion out to see and be seen. Her eyes eagerly darted from one sight to the next. Elizabeth had not realised their outing would coincide with the fashionable hour, and wondered whether she could infer anything from his choice of destination.

Mr. Darcy inclined his head in mute acknowledgement to a mature lady and her companion, but the words he spoke next were for her alone. "On Friday night I thought I had somehow offended you."

"You did nothing that could have caused offence."

"You are too generous. Circumstances forced my departure when an urgent summons arrived, warning of a fire at my home. Naturally, knowing Georgiana and Mrs Annesley were there, I wished to answer it without delay."

Relieved that Lady Augusta had not been responsible for his sudden disappearance, she said, "Your reaction was a natural one, under the circumstances. Poor Georgiana! What a fright she must have had."

He smiled at three elegant ladies in a barouche. "My sister was well. You see, there was no fire ... or, at least, not in London. The garbled message related to a pair of cottages on my estate. No one was in danger."

"I still do not understand why you feel it necessary to apologise to me."

Directing his horses towards an unpopulated area of shade cast below a stand of tall trees, Mr. Darcy pulled them to a stop and half turned in his seat. He frowned, leaving Elizabeth with an overwhelming urge to smooth the deep lines from his forehead. "I should have made a point of looking for you and explaining the circumstances personally, rather than asking another to apprise you of the situation. All I could think of was the quicker I left, the sooner I would return."

Elizabeth's gaze fell to the stitching on her gloves. The remembrance of that evening still had the power to make her blush. "I had no idea where you had gone, or any expectation of you coming back."

After another long pause, he said, "So Miss Lydia did not speak to you?"

Hearing this, she lifted her head. "Lydia told me you had left the party."

"Nothing else?" Sighing, he glanced away across the green expanse towards Kensington Gardens. "It was Miss Lydia I entrusted with my message. I asked her to let you know I had been called home ... and that I would return to the party ... to you ... as soon as I could."

"Oh." Elizabeth lowered her eyes again, embarrassed that Lydia's mischief had caused another misunderstanding between them. "If that is true, then I did not receive the whole of the message. She told me she had seen you leave, but neglected to mention she knew you would be returning."

She felt his finger under her chin as he gently raised her head to look in her eyes. Moving his hand away, his expression lightened and he smiled. "That explains why you did not wait for me."

But not why he found me sitting with Lord Cresswell. Elizabeth had felt alone and vulnerable prior to the Viscount’s arrival, especially after the Dowager Lady Rempstone had left her so discouraged and doubtful. She had been grateful then for his lordship's company, but their game of cards had meant nothing more to her than entertainment to pass the time, and perhaps a means of tweaking the old woman's nose a little. She wondered what Mr. Darcy had thought upon returning to the party, especially when he had found her playing cards with another man. Had he believed her enamoured with the Viscount? "I am afraid I cannot excuse my behaviour so easily. Perhaps if Lady Augusta had not been so free with her opinions, I would not have chosen to spend any time with his lordship. Sometimes my indignation can override my good sense."

Mr. Darcy smiled, as though at a private joke. "So I understand. I doubt Lady Augusta would have had the opportunity to speak to you alone if I had not left the house, so you must allow me to accept some culpability."

Elizabeth had to laugh at the way he was trying to absolve her of any shortcoming. "Perhaps we should not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening. I see I would be singularly unsuccessful." She wondered whether Mr. Darcy would have called on her today if Lord Cresswell had not announced his betrothal. It seemed that the circumstances of his lordship's engagement had ultimately done her more good than harm. She shivered at the repercussions her thoughtless actions might have caused if his lordship had not been so good as to find himself a wife.

"Are you cold?"

The softly spoken words, filled with concern for her welfare, brought her back to her current situation, which was far more to her liking. "No ... no, not really. In the sunshine it is warm. Only here in the shade is it a little chilly."

Mr. Darcy nodded his head, his attention swinging to his restive horses. "Perhaps I should return you home."

"Must you?" She saw the corners of his mouth curl upwards. "I mean ... well, we have not yet seen the rest of the park and I do not know when I will get another opportunity; assuming, of course, you still wish me to travel to Derbyshire with your sister."

He frowned. "Can you doubt it?"

"When I thought you angry with me, I did."

Tipping his hat to a group of ladies and gentlemen on horseback, he waited for them to pass before replying. "Angry? Never, although I was bitterly disappointed not to have the chance to speak to you again on Friday evening."

"I remained there all night." Mrs Bennet had been unwilling to leave early, forcing Elizabeth to endure until their carriage was called for.

He moved his hand to the seat between them, only an inch from her own. Moments later, she felt the warmth of his fingers enveloping hers, even through her kid gloves. "You appeared to be otherwise occupied. I did not wish to intrude upon your conversation."

Elizabeth blushed, diverting her attention to a nursery maid, playing ball with two young children, and trying not to notice how his touch sent shivers up her arm. Although such familiarity ought to be curtailed, she could not bring herself to forego the pleasure.

His thumb moved lazily over the back of her hand; his movements hidden from prying eyes by the folds of her skirt. "I presume you have heard about Viscount Cresswell’s impending marriage."

She stiffened. "Yes, from my mother." Elizabeth chose not to mention how vocal Mrs Bennet had been on the subject. "I hope they will be happy together."

The silence between them grew until Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. "You should know the union was not of Cresswell’s choice. It was arranged by his father after the family suffered some … financial difficulties."

The memory of her last conversation with the Viscount came unbidden to her mind, but she now saw it in a new light. The gentleman with the strong partiality he described had not been Mr. Darcy after all, but himself. Lord Cresswell had attempted to communicate his own regrets to her that night, but she had been too busy worrying about Mr. Darcy’s opinion to appreciate the implication of his words. "If that is the case then I feel sorry for him, although Charlotte once said that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. I suppose that is true regardless of whether he had chosen to marry or had it thrust upon him. They are just as likely to enjoy a happy marriage as anyone else."

His hand tightened over hers. "Then you are not too disappointed by the news?"

"Oh no. I am only sorry he was not allowed to choose his own wife."

Hearing her words, Mr. Darcy seemed to relax. "Arranged marriages, while once common, are fraught with difficulties. You would not accept a husband of your father’s choosing, I think."

The thought of being told who to marry made her cringe. "Not against my own inclinations."

"And if you were so inclined?"

She smiled. "Then I would be able to make my choice freely, would I not?"

"Yes, I imagine so." His eyes had not left hers, but now they darkened with some unnamed emotion. Mr. Darcy drew in a deep breath; his chest falling as he relaxed. "Miss Bennet, I wondered ..." He paused.

Time slowed for Elizabeth as her attention fixed on insignificant things: the breeze ruffling the high leaves in the trees around them; the songs sung by the starlings and sparrows, their sharp trills muted as though they were caged behind glass; the jingle of the harness as one of his horses—made impatient by their inactivity—shook its mane and stamped its hoof; the creaking leather of Mr. Darcy’s gloves as his hand tightened around the reins. She felt a curious expectation building, as though the world was holding its breath, watching ... waiting for him to speak.

Elizabeth knew what she wanted him to say. While their talk of marriage had been nothing but general, she could not imagine a greater delight than of Mr. Darcy asking her to be his wife.

Suddenly, a shriek from behind caused them both to jump. One of the young children, having fallen heavily on the grass, bawled loudly before receiving sympathy from his nurse.

The moment passed; the spell broken as she heard Mr. Darcy sigh. Whatever he might have been about to say vanished amid the laughter of children returning to their play.

Lifting the reins he urged his horses into a walk. "As you will be leaving town soon, we ought to take in those parts of the park you are not yet familiar with."

He drove her around the circumference of Hyde Park, pointing out items of interest on the way. Elizabeth, forcing down a disappointment that startled her with its intensity, was still pleased to see signs of a sense of humour underneath his more serious façade, and laughed more than once at his observations as he acknowledged acquaintances. It was with poorly hidden reluctance that he pointed the horses back in the direction of Gracechurch Street.

When they returned to her aunt’s house, she noticed the curtains twitching, as though someone had been watching for their arrival from beyond the panel of lace only moments before. She could only hope Mr. Darcy was unaware of their audience. He assisted her down, holding her fingers for only a moment longer than necessary before letting them go.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Our outing has been much more pleasant than a trip to the Exeter Exchange, I think."

"I am pleased to know my company is preferred above curious beasts."

"Your company is certainly favoured above that of my sisters."

He smiled. "I hope you will continue to feel that way once you have spent some time with us at Pemberley. It is pleasant in the summer months and Georgiana is greatly anticipating your visit." He looked up at her then, his eyes piercing hers. "And I look forward to showing you the sights of our county. There is little that can improve upon Derbyshire in August."

Elizabeth could feel the heat growing in her cheeks, but she did not turn away. He captured her hand again, pressing it gently between his fingers as he bowed and took his leave. The only circumstance stopping her from being melancholy at his departure was the fact that they were dining at Darcy House that evening.

And, in a very short time, she would be at Pemberley, enjoying his company every day. Perhaps then, the event she most wished for might somehow come to pass, and the ardent declaration she had dreamed of with growing frequency could yet be spoken in earnest.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~

Chapter fifty-one.

Elizabeth paced her Aunt's parlour, as she waited for the Darcys carriage to arrive. Although her parents and sisters had returned to Longbourn four days earlier, Mrs Bennet's incessant litany of instructions on how to sit, how to eat and how to behave while at Pemberley were still ringing in her ears.

On Sunday evening, they had travelled to Grosvenor Square one final time. However, the engagement was not with the Rempstones, but across the square at Darcy House.

Mrs Bennet, her mind now alive to the possibilities of Mr. Darcy for a son-in-law, boggled at the sight of his imposing residence, which she pronounced to be finer and more tastefully appointed than anything Lady Rempstone could devise. She surveyed the whole with a proprietary air and pronounced herself quite satisfied.

Following their afternoon in the park, Elizabeth had wondered whether being in his own house might make Mr. Darcy more circumspect in his attentions towards her, but she erred in that presumption. Not only had he taken Elizabeth down to dinner, seating her next to him, but he had also paid her marked attention. By the end of the meal, the footmen—taking their cue from their master—were treating her with a higher degree of deference and clearly paid close attention to the young lady who, rumour suggested, would be accompanying the family to Pemberley.

The most memorable part of the evening came sometime after their meal, when Mrs Bennet made a valiant attempt to strike up a conversation with her host; a circumstance both parties found difficult when they had so little in common. However, after a few minutes she recollected that Elizabeth would be travelling into the country with Mr. Darcy and his sister, and begged him to take good care of her.

"She is a good girl, sir, although a little wilful at times. I do hope she will not cause you any trouble." Mrs Bennet paused, unsure what to say next. Finally, she added, "Elizabeth is very fond of walking you know."

"Yes, I am aware of it," Mr. Darcy replied.

"Is it safe to walk in Derbyshire?"

"Quite safe, Mrs Bennet. I can assure you that Pemberley has many fine walks without your daughter having to step foot off the estate at all."

Her mother’s eyes glittered in a way that boded no good. "It is a good size then?"

"There is one path which takes in the whole park and is not an inch less than ten miles."

"Such a distance, and she does insist on walking for miles on her own. Please do not allow her to walk alone, Mr. Darcy. She is not so familiar with Derbyshire, and I do worry she will fall off one of those cliffs and break her neck. Will you promise to stay with her so she does not fall?"

Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy’s eye as he looked up at her and smiled. "It will be my pleasure, madam."

Mrs Bennet had appeared pleased with that arrangement, and made no further embarrassing comments ... at least not in Mr. Darcy’s hearing; a blessing for which Elizabeth was very grateful.

Her mother had started again on the way home, even before the carriage had left the square. "You could have told me Mr. Darcy had a house on Grosvenor Square," she complained to her husband.

"And how would that information have helped?"

"I knew, of course, that a man with ten thousand pounds a year would likely have a property in town, but you must know Grosvenor Square is very fashionable, particularly with those families in the highest levels of society. Lady Lucas was impressed when I told her Nathan was staying at Rempstone House, but to be able to tell my friends I have a daughter living in the same area would be an even greater achievement."

"Would that be your achievement, my dear, or hers?"

"Mine, of course. Without my assistance Lizzy would never get a man like Mr. Darcy to look at her twice, because she does not put herself forward. Although, really it is a shame Miss Darcy did not choose to befriend Kitty or Lydia instead. They are closer to her in age and they both looked very pretty in their new dresses tonight."

In the half-light of the enclosed carriage, Elizabeth had caught her father hiding a smile as he rolled his eyes.

"Now, Lizzy," her mother had said the following morning, as servants lashed baggage to the Bennets coach. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour when you arrive at Mr. Darcy's house. If he wishes to walk with you, then please do not be stubborn. You must allow him to bear you company. He will know those paths better than anyone, except perhaps his steward or gamekeeper."

Although Elizabeth usually dreaded her mother when in one of her matchmaking moods, she found that Mrs Bennet's suggestions had never concurred so closely with her own wishes. In her own mind, there could be no greater delight than to accept the company of Mr. Darcy.

"And be sure to practice your piano during the day," her mother continued. "That is when men usually go fishing or riding and will not hear the mistakes you make. You can then surprise him with your talents in the evening."

"Miss Darcy is very skilled on the piano, Mama," Elizabeth had not scrupled to mention.

"Oh ... well, is there anything she is not good at? You must show off your accomplishments, my dear. He will not fall in love with you unless you can prove your achievements."

"And what might they be?" she had asked mischievously.

"Lord, girl, I do not know! Your embroidery is middling at best. What are you good at?"

Elizabeth laughed. "I am sure I will think of something, Mama."

"When you are not scampering about the countryside, up to your ankles in mud and dust, you scrub up quite well," Mrs Bennet said after a moments thought. "And your handwriting is fair. Yes, he might be impressed with a neat hand. You must be sure to write to me often and let me know how you are getting on, but do sit where Mr. Darcy can see you.

She smiled at the thought that Mr. Darcy might yet sit and admire her handwriting, as Miss Bingley had once admired his.

A commotion outside brought Elizabeth’s attention back to the present. Looking out of the window she watched a large black coach pulling into the yard, which recalled an earlier time for Elizabeth; one where she had equally strong feelings for its owner. Now those feelings were quite the opposite, and it seemed she was not the only person to be aware of the fact. Earlier that morning, her aunt had caught her as she was enjoying a quiet moment alone and asked whether she was ready.

"Yes, I believe everything is packed."

Aunt Gardiner smiled. "That was not quite what I meant, my dear." She looked down, twisting a pearl button at her wrist. "It is Lammas Day today; the first day of August."

"I know. I have never before missed the harvest at Longbourn."

Her aunt sat on the end of the bed. "I remember at Lambton they always held a Lammas Fair. Of course, here in town people think less about harvest time. The land is no longer part of their life as it is in the country. Many of the old ways are gone now." She paused again, looking rather serious. "On the day of the Lammas Fair it was tradition that the women of the village would predict the couples they expected would marry over the course of the next year. In olden times, young people—those who were not sure if they would suit—were allowed to undergo a trial marriage, which would last for the length of the fair; around ten or eleven days. It gave people the chance to find out whether they were destined for a happy union."

"Did it work?"

"It was so long ago I do not think anyone remembers now. What I am trying to say, Lizzy, is that you visiting Derbyshire is a little like one of those old trial marriages. Being in Mr Darcy's home will give you the perfect opportunity to find out more of his character."

"But Aunt—"

"My dear girl, you cannot believe he does not admire you! When he has called to see us three times since Sunday?"

Elizabeth blushed, but Lady Augusta’s words still echoed in her memories. "I do not doubt his admiration, only his willingness to act on it. I am not of his social sphere."

"He is a gentleman, and you are a gentleman’s daughter. I see nothing unequal in that. In my eyes, he has already made his decision. I can only assume he now waits for some sort of indication from you, my dear. Think of this visit as your chance to find out more about Mr. Darcy and decide whether you might wish him for a husband. If you decide he is the man for you, make sure he is aware of your feelings, as well as you are able. Gentlemen often need encouragement."

Her aunt’s words had reminded her of Charlotte’s opinion that there were very few men who had heart enough to be in love without encouragement; yet there was only so much she could do to indicate her own preference. It was down to Mr. Darcy to confirm his intentions.

Until then, she could only wait.

Elizabeth joined Georgiana and her brother in the yard as the men carried her luggage from the house. She said her farewells to her aunt and uncle Gardiner and her cousins before she climbed into the carriage with Mrs Annesley and Georgiana, while Mr. Darcy mounted his horse. He gave an order to the coachman and the coach jerked forward as the four greys pulled against their harness. Elizabeth waved to her aunt and uncle through the window as the carriage pulled out of the yard and onto Gracechurch Street. Sitting back against the cushions, she marvelled once more at the upholstery and fittings.

"Oh, I am so looking forward to going home," Georgiana sighed as she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. "You will love Derbyshire in the summer, I know you will."

~~*~~

Their journey into Derbyshire took longer than she expected, but Elizabeth found the company infinitely preferable. Georgiana and Mrs Annesley made for quieter and more interesting travelling companions than her own family, entertaining themselves with acrostics, enigmas and conundrums, or even a little light sewing. Elizabeth was too excited to sew or read, preferring to mark their progress by watching the ever-changing countryside through the window.

Elizabeth could not fail to notice the admiration of the people they passed by on the road—labourers and gentry alike—and she reflected on the first time she had seen the splendid coach standing in the yard of her uncle's home; similarly harnessed to its dappled greys and resplendent with liveried coachman and groom. She felt all of her good fortune, travelling in such luxury for a second time, and began to wonder what she might find at Pemberley.

Throughout the journey she saw less of Mr. Darcy than she had hoped, as he chose to accompany the carriage on horseback. Sometimes he rode near her window, giving her the opportunity to observe the masterful control he exerted over his horse. Although she had little experience with riding—not since she was a young girl—anyone could recognise how at home he was on top of the animal. On occasion, he caught her watching him and he would touch his hat in salute and smile, invariably leaving her heart fluttering wildly at his attention.

If this was her reaction when he rode six feet away from the carriage, she dreaded to imagine how she might cope, spending a whole month in his house.

Their first day of travel had been as comfortable as it could be, and they had arrived outside the Bull at Stoney Stratford in time to sit down to an excellent dinner in a private parlour secured for their use. Mr. Sleath, the innkeeper, addressed Mr. Darcy by name, and it was obvious after only five minutes that the Darcy family had been using this particular establishment during their journeys to and from London for many years.

The following night a similar scene played out at the George & Dragon at Loughborough, and Elizabeth resolved to be no longer so surprised that Mr. Darcy should be so well known and liked in such places. Although she had been aware of his consequence from their earliest meetings, it was not until she had witnessed these men fawning over him that she began to grasp the full import of what it truly meant to be Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

They had set off earlier that morning, as the final leg of the journey would take a little longer, getting them to Pemberley only a few hours before sunset. Elizabeth had been surprised to see Mr. Darcy climb inside the carriage. The weather was cool but dry, so she could only assume he was too tired to ride for a third day. Her suspicions were borne out when he settled down in the corner and appeared to fall asleep, although on a number of occasions Elizabeth caught his brown eyes watching her under half closed lids, feeling a familiar thrill at being the subject of his intense observation.

Towards the end of their journey, Georgiana observed they were nearing Lambton, which was scarcely less an object of interest to Elizabeth than Pemberley itself. Mrs Gardiner had entrusted a handful of letters into the safekeeping of her niece before she had left town, which Elizabeth was determined to deliver by hand. She therefore studied the collection of low stone houses huddled around the village green with interest.

As the coachman navigated across a narrow stone bridge spanning a sluggish river, Georgiana broke into her friend's reverie, explaining she would soon have her first sight of the Pemberley estate, as they were now less than five miles from their destination. Elizabeth watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with great excitement. It did not take long before the horses pulled off the road and between old stone pillars supporting two large and decorative iron gates. To the right, she saw a neat lodge, surrounded by a small garden, where an old gentleman, his back bent as he dug in the soil, saluted the coach as it passed.

The park was large, containing a wide variety of ground. They entered it at one of its lowest points and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, which stretched over a broad extent. Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. The road gradually climbed for half a mile at which time they found themselves at the top of a hill, where the wood abruptly ended and the valley revealed her first sight of Pemberley House, situated on the opposite slope.

For a moment, time stood still in Elizabeth's mind as she allowed her eyes to soak up every window, column and carving on the façade of the house. In all her conversations with the Darcys, she had never imagined such a beautiful property and even Miss Bingley's effervescent exclamations while at Netherfield had ill prepared her for such a sight.

Any ideas that Elizabeth had of Mr. Darcy being asleep were dispelled, as he stretched his arms ahead of him and sat up straighter against the cushions. Elizabeth spared him a glance and saw how he appeared just as eager to view his home as she. He turned his attention towards Elizabeth and his lips curled into a brief smile. Blushing for no good reason, she looked away, facing the changing scene through the carriage window.

The road upon which they were travelling wound down into the valley and crossed a bridge before reaching the property. The house itself was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on the rising ground, a ridge of high woody hills beyond. As though celebrating their arrival, the evening sun had almost reached the top of the trees, bathing the whole in a warm golden glow.

In front of the property a stream of some natural importance had been swelled into greater, but there was nothing artificial in its appearance, and the banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty was so little counteracted by an awkward taste.

They soon descended the hill and crossed the bridge; the carriage coming to a halt in front of a pair of tall oak doors, set into a colonnaded façade. Elizabeth looked around with growing excitement as half a dozen footmen erupted from the entrance like ants scurrying from a damaged nest. One of them let down the carriage steps, allowing Mr. Darcy to descend. Once on the ground he paused momentarily, inspecting the scene with a serene smile, before offering his assistance to the other occupants of the coach. Elizabeth waited until Georgiana had availed herself of her brother's help before taking Mr. Darcy's hand.

He pressed her fingers gently, his voice husky as he said, "Welcome to Pemberley, Miss Bennet."

An older gentleman, who appeared to be the butler, bid him a warm welcome. "Good evening, Mr. Darcy. An uneventful journey, I hope?" Receiving a positive response, he went on to speak a few words to Georgiana before turning his impassive attention towards Elizabeth.

"And this is Miss Bennet, our guest," Mr. Darcy explained.

"Ah, yes. Welcome to Pemberley, Miss Bennet. Everything is ready for you."

Mr. Darcy must have seen the curiosity in Elizabeth's face, as he explained, "My housekeeper is always given the earliest notice of guests, so she can prepare the rooms. Mrs Reynolds would hardly forgive me if I had not warned her of your arrival. She prides herself on her hospitality."

Elizabeth grinned as they began walking towards the door. "But surely, as Master of the house is it not your hospitality I am enjoying?"

"In theory yes, that would be the case," he replied, his voice almost a whisper. "But I found out many years ago that it does not do to upset Mrs Reynolds."

Elizabeth then found herself being ushered through the large doors by Georgiana, who seemed just as eager for her friend to become acquainted with her home.

As she moved across the threshold, Elizabeth stepped into a large reception hall, which felt cool and clean after the summer heat and dusty roads outside. The floors were of pristine black and white marble, and four stone columns reached up towards a ceiling that seemed immense compared to the modestly proportioned rooms of Gracechurch Street.

Into the centre of the room came a respectable-looking, elderly woman whom Georgiana introduced as Mrs Reynolds. The housekeeper was much less fine, and more civil, than Elizabeth had any notion of finding her, and her kind and welcoming smile reminded her of Mrs Maltby at Rosings, albeit taller and somewhat thinner.

Mr. Darcy joined them in the hall. "Is everything in readiness, Mrs Reynolds?"

"Yes, sir, everything has been arranged just as you requested."

"Good. You must excuse me, Miss Bennet. Unfortunately I have some tasks needing my attention before dinner."

Elizabeth thought the older woman might have said more to Mr Darcy, but her Master's businesslike manner precluded any warmer welcome. Once he had left their company, she could still hear his voice as he spoke with the butler. When another gentleman arrived in the hall and immediately began talking to his master, referring often to a ledger in front of him, Elizabeth soon saw what Georgiana had only hinted at in town. Mr. Darcy was indeed a busy man.

Once the two men had passed into the bowels of the house, Mrs Reynolds seemed to feel more comfortable fussing over Georgiana like a mother hen, complimenting her on her new hat and exclaiming how tall she had grown. She even went so far as to venture an observation that the Master had lost weight since his last visit and she suggested that perhaps some of his favourite puddings would put the matter right.

Finally, turning to face Elizabeth, the woman smiled. "Miss Georgiana's description did not do you justice, Miss Bennet. But, then again, she has always been better with pictures and is a little shy with words.

Georgiana commented how Elizabeth might wish to see her room and perhaps have a short rest before dinner.

Mrs Reynolds led the way up one of the widest staircases Elizabeth had ever seen and along a number of corridors until they reached a door set half way along a hallway. "This is the family wing. Miss Darcy asked me to put you close to her, so I hope you find this room acceptable."

Elizabeth stepped across the threshold and stared around it in wonder. It was far larger than any of the bed chambers at Longbourn. Even grander, in fact, than her mother’s parlour.

Seemingly concerned by her silence, Mrs Reynolds said, "If it is not to your liking, we have some very nice apartments in the guest wing."

"Oh, but it is beautiful! I have never seen such a colour blue in any room before."

"I'm pleased you approve, Miss."

"I am sure there are few who would not."

Mrs Reynolds smiled at the compliment, showing a proper pride in her master's property. "Well, I will leave you to make yourself at home. Miss Darcy's room is just next door to your own and the bell is here if you require anything in the meantime. Dinner will be in an hour."

Although the day had been long, Elizabeth did not feel as tired as she might have expected. Perhaps it was the consequence of having such a fine equipage at their command, or maybe the excitement of arriving at Pemberley had chased away her lethargy. She wandered aimlessly around the room, inspecting the furniture and pictures. A second door was set in one wall, and her curiosity incited her to try the handle. The door was unlocked. She opened it and peered around. The room beyond was smaller, with a fireplace and a number of large wardrobes. Her trunk had already been brought up and she imagined that any moment a maid might come scurrying in to put her clothes away. She had never stayed in a house large enough to have a separate room merely for dressing. Retreating to her bedroom, she moved to one of the two tall windows, through which she could see the road they had followed down the hill as they arrived. Every disposition of the ground was good, and she looked upon the whole scene—the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley—with delight.

A short while later, a maid appeared to help her dress, after which time she was once more on her own. When Elizabeth felt herself ready for dinner, she stepped outside her door and looked up and down the empty corridor. Knocking on Georgiana's door produced no reply, but the idea of finding the dining room by herself did not disconcert her. She thought she remembered the route they had taken to reach her room from the main hall, and was confident she would find someone to show her the right direction by the time she had reached the bottom of the stairs.

However, at the point where she expected to see the top of the grand staircase, Elizabeth instead came to another short corridor, ending in a door. Retracing her steps, she tried a different direction, but had no more luck with that than she did with the first.

Frustrated with her inability to find her way, when it had appeared such an easy task, she walked briskly back to her room, with the thought of ringing the bell for assistance. As Elizabeth rounded a corner she came up against what initially felt like a solid object, but she soon realised she had run headlong into her host.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy!"

He grabbed her arms with both hands to steady her. "I apologise. I did not see you there."

Elizabeth, who had changed into a short sleeved dress for dinner, could scarcely concentrate on his words, so stunned was she by the force of the impact and the heat of his bare hands on her skin. As her eyes drifted upwards to his face, her heart began to beat faster.

Mr. Darcy seemed no less surprised to have her in his arms, but he made no attempt to move. After a long moment of silence, which Elizabeth had no wish to break, he loosened his grip; his ragged breathing hinting that he was just as affected by their proximity as she.

"I was concerned when you did not come downstairs." His fingers brushed her skin as he slid his hands slowly down her arms, before taking her shaking fingers in a firm grip. "Georgiana said she knocked on your door but received no reply, and could not find you within."

Touched by the worry in his voice, Elizabeth revelled in the way his large hands seemed to wrap around hers so completely. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing through her fingers, for it sounded far too loud in her ears. "I, too, went to Georgiana's room, but received no response. I tried to find my way downstairs but, as you can see, I was singularly unsuccessful. I was returning to ring for assistance."

Although Elizabeth knew they stood too close, and it would be prudent to step back, she found herself unable to turn away. His eyes were like a stormy sea—deep and tempestuous—but the sight of such tumult did not frighten her. On the contrary, the leashed power within him cried out for release, and she longed to free him from whatever burdens he carried.

His lips parted, and she heard a quick intake of air rush between them. Neither moved, until it seemed to Elizabeth that he was slowly leaning closer. A thought flashed through her mind that he might choose this moment to kiss her. She had never before experienced such intimacy, but standing together as they were—her heart a fast drumbeat in her ears—she knew she would not refuse him if he desired it.

Sounds of footsteps in the distance shattered whatever magic spell had woven itself between them. Letting go of her hands, instead Mr. Darcy offered his arm. "In that case, might I offer my services instead?"

Smiling at the young maid, who bobbed a curtsey as she passed, she said, "I would be grateful for your help, sir, for I do find myself rather hungry."

He nodded in sympathy. "If I know Mrs Reynolds, that sorry state of affairs will not be allowed to continue for very much longer."

~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~

Chapter fifty-two.

The following morning, while Mr. Darcy rode out with his steward to view the state of the fire-damaged cottages, Georgiana showed Elizabeth around the gardens surrounding Pemberley on all four sides.

As Elizabeth followed her down the gravelled pathways, her mind wandered to the previous evening. When she and Mr. Darcy arrived downstairs, he had shown her into the dining-parlour, which was a large, well-proportioned space. Elizabeth, after surveying the room, moved to view the prospect from one of the windows. The last vestiges of the setting sun highlighted the hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended in the carriage as they arrived. She looked forward to exploring Pemberley's rolling parkland during her stay.

Dinner had been an unusual affair for Elizabeth, coming from a relatively large family. It seemed almost incongruous that the dining room was one of the grandest she had ever been in, and yet, even with the inclusion of Mrs Annesley, their party had numbered only four. Nevertheless, after being seated next to Mr. Darcy, and across from Georgiana, the meal passed off pleasantly between bouts of conversation.

After dinner, Georgiana had guided her through a few of the other rooms on the ground floor, which left her feeling quite overawed. They were lofty and handsome and their furniture eminently suitable to the fortune of the proprietor. Elizabeth recognised, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture that adorned Rosings. They finally settled in the music room, where Georgiana had showed her the instrument her brother bought. It had been sent especially from London and she favoured Elizabeth with a short recital before Mrs Annesley suggested a duet, with Georgiana playing the harp and Elizabeth on the pianoforte.

Elizabeth had hesitated to agree to the scheme. She knew her skill on the pianoforte to be adequate, although not exceptional, while Georgiana’s playing was nothing short of perfection to her ears. However, at that point Mr. Darcy walked into the room, joining his voice to that of his sister and her companion, entreating her to play. Something in his earnest expression had compelled her to acquiesce and Elizabeth had taken her place at the piano stool as Mrs Annesley leafed through the music until she found something they were both familiar with.

They played the piece through, and Elizabeth thought she had acquitted herself to an acceptable standard. Although Mr. Darcy and his sister both described her playing as delightful, she had excused the praise as politeness on their part.

"Elizabeth?" Georgiana’s voice dragged her attention back to the present moment. The young girl looked expectant.

"Oh, I am sorry! I was wool-gathering."

She smiled. "I only said that my mother ordered the planting of the roses in this section of the garden before I was born." The young girl brushed her hand across one of the blooms. "Somehow I feel closer to her when I walk here."

Elizabeth looked around. This part of the garden was very colourful, but the scent and not the sight assailed her senses. "It feels very relaxing." She came to a rustic seat situated close to the path. "Did your mother sit here?"

Georgiana sat down. "No, Fitzwilliam ordered it made. I often see him sitting here when I look out of my bedroom window. He, of course, knew her far better than I. She died when I was but a small child."

Although she had sometimes wished Mrs Bennet elsewhere, Elizabeth knew she would miss her terribly if something were to happen to her. "I cannot imagine what it might be like to grow up without a mother."

Georgiana shrugged. "As I cannot imagine what it is to have four sisters instead of only one brother."

"Louder."

Giggling, her friend turned to respond, but was distracted by a faint, rhythmic beating, as of hooves, some distance away. Elizabeth looked across the valley and spotted a coach and four horses travelling down the hill towards the bridge. "Who can this be?"

"Oh, it is probably tourists, wishing to apply to view the house."

"Does that happen often?"

"No, not very often." They were both surprised as someone inside the coach pulled down the window and waved in their direction. "And no visitor has ever done that."

Elizabeth stood for a second, watching it moving inexorably closer. "They are not visitors." She smiled. "’Tis Jane, and my brother Bingley." Leaving Georgiana to follow at a more sedate pace, she eagerly ran towards the front of the house, where two footmen waited to assist the new guests.

Impatient for their arrival, Elizabeth was forced to wait as the coach made its way across the stone bridge before coming to a stop in front of the portico. The door was opened and the steps let down before Bingley descended to the gravel; her sister barely waiting for his hand before jumping to the ground. "Jane!" The two sisters embraced warmly, Elizabeth still unable to believe they were there at all. "I thought you were fixed in Scarborough until the end of the month."

Jane smiled. "And so we should have been, had we not received Mr. Darcy’s kind invitation to come to Pemberley."

Bingley then stepped forward to claim the attentions of a brother, while Georgiana welcomed them both. "Mrs Reynolds has already prepared your rooms in anticipation of your arrival."

Elizabeth turned to her friend, unable to hide her astonishment. "You expected Jane to arrive here today?"

Georgiana had the grace to blush. "Not today particularly, but Fitzwilliam did tell me we would be receiving visitors."

"But you never said a word."

"I promised not to. It would have been a poor surprise were you informed of it before hand."

"A surprise? For me?"

Georgiana grinned and nodded.

They all walked together into the house where Mrs Reynolds met them, offering to show Mrs Bingley to her room so she could change from her travelling clothes. When Mr. Bingley went off to locate his friend, Jane asked them to join her upstairs. Georgiana declined the offer, choosing to find Mrs Annesley and leaving the two sisters to spend some time together.

Once they were alone, Elizabeth cried, "Oh, Jane! I cannot believe you are here. It is like a dream!"

Mrs Bingley laughed as she wrapped her arms around her sister. "A pleasant one, I hope. You cannot be more pleased than I. It feels like years since I last saw you."

"And yet it is scarce more than a month since you left Netherfield!"

Jane’s maid entered the room, surprised to find a guest with her mistress. She carried a dress across her arms, which she laid on the bed.

"Will you stay with me while I change?"

Agreeing, Elizabeth watched the young maid help her sister to replace her carriage dress of blue twill for an elegant morning dress of pale pink sarsenet with blond lace trimming, which was very different from the simple muslin gowns she had been used to wearing when a single woman in Hertfordshire. It proclaimed her change in status far more clearly than the gold ring upon her finger.

She noticed another difference in Jane; something intangible that Elizabeth could not immediately identify. Marriage to Mr. Bingley had given her sister a worldly confidence that complemented her usual serene countenance. It was as though her sister had grown into something more, although the Jane she had known and loved as a child was still visible. Marriage clearly suited her.

"Do you like it?" Jane twirled around, showing off her gown to best advantage. "Mrs Harrison’s modiste in Scarborough made it up for me, and yet it cost no more than Mrs Alcott in Meryton used to charge Mama for one of her gowns."

"I like it very well. That shade compliments the colour in your cheeks. The sea air must have done you some good. How did you like Scarborough?"

"You must come with us next time, Lizzy. The sands are lovely. When the tide goes out it leaves the beach so smooth and clean."

"Did you bathe in the sea while you were there?"

Jane blushed. "No, I was not inclined to it myself, although a number of people did take advantage of the bathing machines to immerse themselves in the sea."

As they talked, Jane spoke of the hours she had spent in company with Charles’s aunt, describing the entertainments they enjoyed and the people she met. Elizabeth told Jane of her shopping trip with Miss Darcy and her brother, and Aunt Gardiner’s subsequent efforts to ensure she had everything she might require for a stay in the country.

"And what of Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth feigned disinterest at the question. "Mr. Darcy? He is a pleasant host. It was kind of him to allow his sister to invite me."

"It seems you have spent quite a bit of time in his company while in town."

"With Miss Darcy, yes." Elizabeth paused, examining the intricate lace on her handkerchief. While tempted towards openness with her sister, the feelings she held towards Mr. Darcy were still too new to be shared. His attentions towards her in London may have been flattering, but she did not feel equal to discussing them with anyone—not even Jane—until more confident in her assessment of his feelings. Yesterday, and in the days prior to them leaving town, she had almost thought he wanted to speak, but he never did. Something held him back, and until she knew what it was she dare not excite her sister’s expectations.

Jane allowed the silence to stretch between them. Finally, she said, "Charles was surprised to hear from Mr. Darcy."

"It was kind of him to invite you here ... and very unexpected!"

Jane turned her wedding band around her finger. "I doubt we would have received an invitation to Pemberley had Mr. Darcy not wished to make your stay more comfortable."

Avoiding Jane’s eyes, Elizabeth toyed with the knotted fringe on her shawl. The same idea had passed through her mind when she first saw Jane wave from the carriage, but she had dismissed the idea as being too fantastic for words. Mr. Bingley had been his friend long before he met the Bennets. "I am sure he had every intention of inviting you and Charles to stay, regardless of whether I was here or not."

If her sister’s reserve surprised her, Jane made no further mention of it; instead soliciting further news of their family. There was little to share that Elizabeth had not already committed to letter, and they were soon on their way downstairs again to join Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley in the saloon.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

"I have heard the Scarborough waters have a pungent taste, Mrs Bingley."

Jane smiled at Mrs Annesley. "One of them, the south spring, does have a certain bitterness about it, but I confined myself to drinking the waters from the north well, which were more palatable."

"I believe those of the north well are particularly good for nervous complaints."

Watching Elizabeth’s eyebrows raise, Jane knew her sister longed to ask whether she had thought to send any to her mother. "So I understand."

Miss Darcy’s companion continued to speak at some length about the waters she had taken at Bath and at the lesser known Leamington Spa. Jane listened with half an ear while she took in the scene around her.

In Miss Darcy, she found much to be curious about—having had little opportunity to speak to the young woman on her wedding day—and apart from receiving their congratulations and good wishes they had not spent any appreciable time with the Darcys. In fact, she had given them very little consideration before receiving a letter from her sister, describing their visit to Gracechurch Street, and the generous invitation for Elizabeth to visit Pemberley.

Miss Darcy was not quite as Jane expected. Elizabeth's letters described how shy Georgiana Darcy was, but although she was quiet spoken, their hostess did not appear to be suffering from shyness. Perhaps being in her own home made her more comfortable; or perhaps Elizabeth's friendship had put her at ease.

Elizabeth seemed little different, although Jane knew her sister well enough to see that her mind was too often occupied elsewhere. While carrying her part in the conversation, Lizzy’s attention frequently slipped to the doorway, as though, at any moment, she expected someone to enter.

It was not difficult to guess who that someone might be.

The ladies continued chatting together for some time until a simple luncheon of fruit and cake was sent in. Jane had just helped herself to a second slice of a wonderfully rich fruit cake when Mr. Darcy entered, followed by her own dear husband.

Charles had been riding. Jane recognised the fact not only from the high colour in his cheeks, but also from the brightness of his eyes; a consequence she often noticed when he participated in physical activity. He moved around the room, stopping behind her chair. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he squeezed it lightly.

She put her hand over his and caressed his fingers; listening as Miss Darcy asked her brother a question. However their conversation did not interest her as much as her sister’s reaction to the arrival of their host.

Elizabeth’s face, on perceiving his entrance, immediately became flushed, and she conspicuously turned her attention elsewhere. Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley, whose eyes were drawn to the new arrivals, missed it, but Jane did not. When her sister had composed herself, she glanced towards Mr. Darcy, who took up a position to one side of Mrs Annesley’s chair. Jane smiled. He had chosen his position well. The better to view Elizabeth.

She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind and in what manner he thought of her sister.

Charles asked a question and Mr. Darcy answered without pause, although his eyes were often drawn across the room. It usually happened when Elizabeth was talking and always when she laughed. Charles, though, appeared oblivious to his friend’s inattention.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, did not look at Mr. Darcy. In fact, she seemed to be going to great pains to avoid turning her head in his direction. It was not until Charles enquired after Mr. and Mrs Gardiner’s health that she looked up ... straight into the eyes of her host.

He coloured, she blushed, both smiled, and Jane was satisfied one of them at least knew what it was to love. Of Elizabeth’s true feelings she retained only a little doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was evident enough.

Later, when they all sat down to dinner, her suspicions appeared to be confirmed. The seating was informal, with everyone allowed to sit where they chose. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Darcy offered Elizabeth the chair next to his and Jane noticed on more than one occasion how their host leaned toward her sister as they spoke. Mrs Annesley, catching Jane’s eye during the second course, looked pointedly at the pair before sharing a smile with her. It seemed she was not the only person in the party to realise a courtship was taking place at Pemberley.

Later in the evening, when they retired to their chamber, she smiled at her husband. "It is just as I suspected. Lizzy is well on her way to being quite in love with Mr. Darcy."

"She has told you so?"

Standing still, she allowed Charles to unfasten the necklace from around her neck. "No, not in so many words, but I will swear she is not indifferent to him. Did you see the way they kept looking at each other over dinner?"

"No, I was enjoying my food too much. You know how travelling always makes me hungry."

"I cannot believe you did not notice! I watched them both. His eyes were drawn to her almost as often as hers were to him, and when the two coincided, they smiled."

Her husband failed to be impressed by his wife’s deductions, suggesting his friend might be acting the part of a pleasant host.

"But what about earlier, in the salon? Mr. Darcy showed Lizzy marked attention there."

Yawning, Charles began to loosen his neck cloth. "If you say so, dear."

"But you were the one who suggested we should forward the match." Jane helped him remove his waistcoat. "Has Mr. Darcy not confided his opinion of Lizzy to you?"

"To me? I would think not! It is not the done thing at all."

Removing the pins, she allowed her hair to cascade down her back. "Can you not ask?"

"About Lizzy? Ask his intentions, you mean? If I did he would probably tell me to mind my own business, and he would be right to do so. In general, we men have not acquired the habit of imparting confidences, as practiced by so many women."

Privately, Jane wished her sister might impart more secrets. "You mean to say you did not tell Mr. Darcy when you fell in love with me?"

Laughing, he caught his wife in his arms; drawing her towards him so he could curl his fingers in her long blonde locks. "I had no need to say a word. He always knows just what I am thinking from the look on my face."

"It is not a difficult skill to master. Your open countenance admits to all of your deepest secrets."

"Oh really! You can tell what I am thinking just from my face?"

"Of course."

His eyes took on a familiar glint as he pulled her closer. "And what, pray, am I thinking now?"

Jane's heart started to beat a little faster. She knew just what was going through her husband's mind. "You think I should stop worrying about Lizzy and come to bed."

Charles smiled. "Yes, and leave Darcy to solve his own problems."

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

The following morning Darcy was surprised to find Bingley up and about earlier than his usual habits and eager to ride out his fidgets before breakfast.

When the pair had blown away the cobwebs with an exhilarating gallop over the fields, Bingley reined in his mount and they settled their horses into a companionable walk. After a few minutes of silence between them, Darcy noticed a grin spread over his friend's face. "What?"

"Nothing!" Bingley made a valiant effort to school his expression into something resembling nonchalance, but he fooled no one.

"Oh well, if you insist." Darcy would not force his friend to speak. He knew Bingley well enough to understand that showing no interest would only encourage him to break down all the sooner.

"I cannot recall when I have spent a more pleasant time at Pemberley," he finally observed, after a few minutes of silent contemplation.

Darcy made no comment, but he had to agree. He might have spent many summers at Pemberley, fishing in the lake; riding the moors; walking upon the heights; but never had he experienced such a heady anticipation. An eager longing for that which was still to come.

Bingley’s voice broke into his contemplation. "You seemed in unusually high spirits last night. I might almost have said animated. I wondered whether it had something to do with Elizabeth's presence."

"Miss Bennet?"

"Of course Miss Bennet! How many other women named Elizabeth do you spend time with?"

"None, of course." There was only one Elizabeth in his life. While solicitous of his guests' welfare, hers was the only opinion of importance to him. She had fit in so well at Pemberley, just as he knew she would. He already sensed Mrs Reynolds’ tacit approval; everyone who met Elizabeth seemed drawn to her. Even the servants had warmed to her ease and friendliness. He suddenly recalled what those same servants had thought of Miss Bingley, and failed to suppress a shudder, despite the early morning warmth. Her last and only visit the previous summer had led to two housemaids giving notice.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Don't play the fool with me, Darcy. I know you of old, and I have never seen you so comfortable in any lady's company outside your own family. When are you going to do the decent thing and propose to her?"

He had asked himself the same question more than once. "Do you think I should?" Darcy replied with more calm than he felt.

Reaching across from his own mount, his friend punched him playfully on the arm. "Of course! I can think of nothing better than to have you as a brother!"

Darcy pretended to give the idea serious consideration. "Well, now you come to mention it that would be one disadvantage to the match."

"The devil it would! You cannot object to her connections after all, and thanks to John Bennet her dowry is respectable. You are merely overset because, for once, I am in the position of being able to advise you, rather than the other way around." A squirrel darted across their path, causing Bingley’s horse to startle. Reaching forward, he patted the animal’s neck, making soothing noises to calm it.

Ignoring the bushy tailed rodent, Darcy said, "I do not remember asking for your advice." His voice contained a note of discouragement but, as was often the case, his friend ignored it.

"You have not." He smiled. "But that is only because you are too damned stubborn to do so!"

"No, I did not ask your advice because I have no need of it."

"You are surely not telling me you have no interest in her, because I won’t believe it. Not after last night."

Darcy walked his horse in silence for a few minutes. He could not deny his feelings for Elizabeth, but he certainly did not wish to dissect them for his friend's entertainment.

Bingley turned in his saddle once more. "Why do you wait? If it is of any comfort, Jane assures me Elizabeth will accept you."

He knew exactly why he waited, but he was disinclined to broach the subject of Elizabeth's lost memories with his friend. Concern that she might remember their conversation in the garden at Rosings was rarely far from his thoughts. Would she accept him if she knew the truth? Was it fair for him to propose without first admitting the event she had forgotten? He was not sure he wished to begin a marriage based on such precarious foundations. Elizabeth deserved more than that. "As much as I respect you, my friend, I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"That is just what I thought you would say, but as Elizabeth is now my sister I believe you will find that makes it very much my business. Besides, you are forgetting one important fact. I have more experience at this sort of thing than you do."

Charles' words succeeded in drawing Darcy's mind away from his more immediate concerns. "Oh, of course! I beg your pardon, Bingley. I failed to remember all those ladies you have offered for. How many times was it?"

"Well ... once! Not including that time at Cambridge. But you are trying to deflect me from my purpose, and it will not do. How many women have you proposed to?" he asked, in high humour.

Darcy was torn between his customary honesty and his desire to keep the subject of his first failed proposal to himself. He was not in the habit of discussing his feelings openly; unlike Bingley, who—prior to his marriage—had often waxed lyrical about the young women he had most admired. Darcy had already confided his situation to Richard, but the situation had been different; Richard was his cousin. Despite that, his admission had not been willingly made, and he had since wished it unspoken. He would not make the same mistake with Bingley. "Again, that has no bearing on the subject," he finally said, his cool tone calculated to depress further curiosity.

As usual, it had no affect on Bingley. "I disagree. Perhaps you are merely in want of practice."

I am more likely to want time than practice. He had to remind himself it was only right that his friend should question his motives. Bingley saw himself as having a responsibility for his sister-in-law, and rightly so. Frustrated by his inability to discourage a topic of conversation that grew ever more awkward, he said, "My intentions towards Miss Bennet are entirely honourable. Does that satisfy you?"

Understanding that Darcy was unlikely to offer more, Bingley accepted his word cheerfully and with good grace before urging his horse into a canter. As he rode away, he shouted back over his shoulder, "Come along! Our conversation has done wonders for my appetite."

Darcy watched him for a moment before encouraging his own mount to catch up. At least Charles seemed to welcome the connection. He only hoped, when the right time came, Elizabeth would accept his heart as readily.

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