Chapter fifty-seven.

When Elizabeth woke the next morning, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed over to the window, parting the heavy damask curtains. The sight of the pale yellow sun rising above the tree line gave her hope that whatever words Mr. Darcy wished to share with her might yet be spoken. The weather would be no bar to their walking together this morning.

She picked out her favourite walking dress and wrapped a fringed shawl around her shoulders to ward against the chill. The maid had not finished dressing Elizabeth's hair when they heard a knock on her bedroom door.

Responding to her assent, a young girl in a cap and apron opened the door and bobbed a curtsey. "'Scuse me, ma'am. Master sent me to beg your pardon, but he requests your presence downstairs in the hall as soon as you’re able."

"Mr. Darcy?" She looked at the clock, noting that there was fully half an hour before they would usually meet. "Yes, of course. Please inform him I will be with him presently."

As she completed her toilette with a carelessness her mother would have abhorred, Elizabeth wondered why Mr. Darcy was so eager to see her. She recalled the previous morning, when the storm had prevented him from speaking his mind. Might this be the day he cast aside his doubts and asked her to marry him? She waited with heightened anticipation, her heartbeat loud in her ears as her maid fastened the last few buttons of her walking dress, wondering whether Jane had suffered similar symptoms on the day Mr. Bingley had proposed at Longbourn.

At least she could be thankful Mrs Bennet was not here to embarrass her.

Within ten minutes she reached the top of the staircase and stopped, her hand braced on the carved marble rail. Below her, in the entrance hall, the Master of the house paced back and forth, barking orders to Mrs Reynolds and Mr. Johnson as he did so. She was not aware of making any sound, but suddenly he stopped and looked up, his expression softening at the sight of her.

He took the shallow stairs two at a time, bounding up them as though he could not wait for her to reach the bottom, his long grey driving coat flying out behind him. Taking the hand she offered, he squeezed her fingers lightly as he escorted her down. "Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Bennet."

Hearing footsteps behind her Elizabeth turned to see a smartly dressed young man carrying two small bags down the stairs. He placed them on a table by the door and turned an enquiring look to his employer.

"Thank you, Marriott. Be ready to leave in five minutes."

His words sent a pain through her chest and she bought her free hand up to her throat, fearing to find her heart there. "Y…you are leaving?"

He rubbed his hand across his eyes as he let out a long sigh. "Yes, although not by choice. I have been summoned to Matlock. In fact, there is not a moment to lose, but I dared not leave without first bidding you farewell, otherwise you might think it was something I made a habit of."

All of Elizabeth's hopes came crashing down at this pronouncement. She had been waiting to speak to him since their interrupted conversation the day before, but it seemed fate would once again deny her the opportunity to hear what he wanted to say. Her knees trembled under her, and she clutched his hand for support as she wondered how she would cope without his presence at Pemberley. "Of course, I will not detain you." Her voice waivered as she spoke and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "This circumstance will, I fear, prevent our outing today." She tried to smile, but found it hard to hide her disappointment.

"Yes. With all my heart I wish it were not so. I would not have left today for anything less." Looking around the hall, full of bustling servants, Mr. Darcy—still holding Elizabeth's fingers—pulled her with him into the drawing room, whereupon he closed the door behind them.

Mr. Darcy's countenance turned serious. "Is there anything I can get for you? A glass of wine perhaps?" he asked as he walked her to the settee.

"No, I thank you." She sank down gratefully, endeavouring to recover herself. "There is nothing the matter with me."

He sat next to her, their knees almost touching. "Had the situation been anything other than it is, I would postpone my journey, but the letter from my uncle contained startling news and there is little I can say that will soften the blow." He tightened his grip on her hand. "It appears that Anne has left the safety of my Aunt and Uncle—has eloped—with Dr. Hall. He took her for a drive in the countryside and they never returned. They are gone off together from Matlock."

Elizabeth felt nothing but astonishment. "Anne? With Dr. Hall? I knew he was monitoring her progress, but this I would never have imagined! What has been done to recover them?"

"I do not yet know. I presume my uncle desires me to find them, although they may be too far ahead for me to catch them now."

"Will your family object to the union?"

Darcy sighed. "I fear so. Anne is an heiress, with a considerable fortune, while Spencer ... Dr. Hall is a younger son, with little more than the money he earns through his practice. You can see the disparity in their status, although I cannot believe he would do such a thing for pecuniary advantage alone. Lady Catherine will be wild when she discovers the truth. I must lend my countenance to the proceedings and do what I can to help deal with the situation."

"I am shocked indeed, but is it absolutely certain?"

"Oh yes, the Earl's note left the matter in no doubt at all. When they did not return he sent men to search for them, thinking there had been an accident. They were traced along the Bakewell Road, heading north, which signifies to my uncle that they must have gone to Scotland. I will know more when I get there."

"Yes ... of course you must go." She looked up into his eyes. "Dr. Hall and Anne will need your support."

Mr. Darcy smiled at that. "Then you have no objection to the match?"

"It is neither my place to object nor approve. However, if they are both over age and they love each other, I do not see what else matters."

He paused for a moment, considering her words, before nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, you are correct. Nothing else should matter. I envy my cousin her determination." Appearing to make a decision, he sat a little straighter. "I am grieved indeed that I must leave Pemberley, today of all days. If I only had ..." He stopped again and shook his head, his frustration evident in his contracted brow. "No, I cannot speak of it now, but I would like—if you will permit me—to have a private conversation with you when I return."

Elizabeth looked around the empty room. "We are private now, sir," she offered hopefully.

He closed his eyes briefly, as though in pain. When he opened them again, his expression was dark and serious. "Of that I am well aware, but there is no time now to tell you everything that is needful. It is not something that can be rushed." Lifting his hand he ran a finger lightly across her cheek. "Will you wait for me?"

"Certainly. I … I have no intention of leaving."

He smiled then. "Good, because I—" They were disturbed by a knock on the door, as a voice informed his master that the carriage was ready and waiting for him. Squeezing her hand, he stared intently at her face, as though committing it to memory. "I must go."

Elizabeth ached to throw her arms around him, but knew she could not. From his mournful expression, it was clear he was leaving with only the greatest reluctance and she would not add to the weight for anything. Her heart skipped as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

He stood and bowed. "Be so kind as to apologise to your sister and Bingley for my hurried departure. Say urgent business has called me away. Bingley will not wonder at that. Georgiana knows I am leaving, but I did not reveal to her the reason why. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as possible and I will return as soon as I can."

"Of course. You can be assured of my secrecy and I trust you will have a safe journey, Mr. Darcy."

As he opened the door he hesitated, turned and, favouring her with a serious, parting look, Elizabeth heard him whisper, "Farewell, Elizabeth," before he turned away.

Running to the front window, she craned her head to watch as he left the house, jumping into the carriage, which moved off down the drive with no further delay. Elizabeth touched the cool glass with the tips of her fingers, wishing he was not compelled to leave, and praying for his safe return.

She watched as the carriage crossed the bridge and climbed up and over the hill. Once it had travelled beyond her sight, Elizabeth found she needed a moment to compose her emotions before leaving the room, feeling unequal to seeing the speculative glances of the footmen stationed in the hallway.

Instead, she wandered around the empty drawing room, recalling some of the things she had learned about her host during their stay at Pemberley. She now knew he had a fondness for vingt-et-un, because it was the first card game his mother had taught him; he would eat kidney but not liver and apple tart was preferred over any other. He could sit reading a book for hours, like a statue, but ask him to sit for a silhouette or pose for a likeness and he would not stay still for more than five minutes.

Memories of the previous evening returned unbidden, when she had accompanied Georgiana on the pianoforte. Elizabeth knew her playing to be no more than tolerable, and yet when she caught sight of Mr. Darcy's countenance across the music room, his rapt attention and beatific smile could almost make her believe her skill was exceptional.

The idea of him being away from Pemberley for any amount of time, when she had grown so used to his company, was painful for her, and she felt tears well in her eyes as she heard the door open behind her.

Mrs Reynolds glanced out of the window before returning her attention to Elizabeth. "That, if I may say so, is just like the master, to go running off at the drop of a hat, as if the whole world's problems are his own," she said, her tone sympathetic.

Although she tried to smile, her treacherous bottom lip quivered as she said, "He feels his responsibility keenly."

Mrs Reynolds came towards her. "That he does, Miss Bennet, but the Earl relies on him more than is right for a man with two grown up sons of his own." She offered Elizabeth her handkerchief.

Accepting the plain linen square gratefully, she pressed it to her eyes. "Perhaps Mr. Darcy was the closest?"

"He always is, my dear." Elizabeth held out the handkerchief, only slightly damp, but Mrs Reynolds waved it away. "When the master was last called away to Matlock like this, he was gone almost two weeks." She gave Elizabeth a knowing smile. "But I doubt his visit will be more than a day or so this time. He has never begrudged the Earl before, for he is mindful of all the support he provided when the old master died, but today, Miss Bennet, I promise you, he would rather have done anything than leave. Mark my words you will hardly have the chance to miss him before he is home again."

With those words of wisdom, Mrs Reynolds left her to her thoughts. Elizabeth, moving to follow her through the door, checked her appearance in the pier glass by the window. Her face was pale, and her eyes were tinged with red. Glancing at the clock upon the mantle, she saw it had been less than half an hour since Mr. Darcy departed.

You are wrong, she thought. I miss him already.

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

On the way to Matlock, Darcy had more than enough time in which to regret his uncle's summons and ponder what he might have said to Elizabeth had he still been at Pemberley.

Time had not blurred his memories of their meeting under the shelter of the temple at Rosings. He had been cold, wet and miserable until he had caught sight of a flash of colour beneath Lady Catherine's old folly. He initially dismissed it, wishing only for a hot bath and a brandy, but something had made him look again, and it was then he had recognised Elizabeth. He had always taken pains to seek her out in the grove by the lane, never dreaming she might venture so far into the park. He had not woken that morning with the intention of proposing marriage, but the juxtaposition of the poor weather, the perfect opportunity and the fond recollection of her wit and charm had been enough to prompt him.

Little had he realised then how unwelcome his offer would be.

As the carriage rolled on over the moors he frowned as he recalled how Elizabeth's refusal had, at first, made him angry and he had been determined to make her aware of her error in supporting Wickham so blindly. Had she not suffered her accident that evening, he would have completed his letter. He might even have found time to put it in her hands the following morning. What might have happened then? Would they have ever met again? Probably not.

He mused on the perversity of a fate that had served to tumble his life around so completely in the space of a few months.

And now Spencer had eloped with Anne; a circumstance he never would have imagined. Something about their flight to the border seemed odd, but Darcy could not identify what bothered him most. He knew them both well, and could not think of any behaviour more out of character.

Scotland was the favoured destination for couples who could not obtain parental support for their union, despite the scandal and gossip that often followed those precipitate marriages. Darcy could understand their reluctance to ask for Lady Catherine's blessing, for he could think of no one who would be less likely to accept the unequal alliance. Even so, the idea of Anne and Spencer eloping made no sense at all.

Arriving at Matlock Hall sometime after one o'clock, he was not surprised to find the household in a state of nervous anticipation as several of the servants ran out to identify the occupant of his carriage. He sensed a palpable disappointment when he stepped down, which told him better than words could that the whereabouts of his cousin and his friend were still unknown.

Hurrying into the house, the Matlock’s butler met him, ushering him into the drawing room. Lady Matlock was alone there, pacing restlessly; a handkerchief clutched in her pale hand. "Oh, Darcy! It is you. I had hoped..."—a glance dismissed the butler—"... well, it is no matter. Thank you for coming."

In the light of his aunt’s anguish he could not regret his decision to answer his uncle’s summons, regardless of how difficult it had been for him to leave. "I came as soon as I could. Has nothing been heard of them?"

"No, and my spirits are greatly shaken."

"It is not still possible they suffered an accident on the road?"

She shook her head. "We all assumed that to be the case to begin with. However, once the search parties returned with no news, we asked the maid to check Anne’s room. Only then did we discover some items of clothing and other objects, like her hairbrush, were missing. From then on we have feared the worst. You know, of course, from your uncle’s letter that they were traced north as far as Bakewell, but beyond there no one saw them pass. It was a shock, to be sure, when we thought they headed for Scotland, but now it seems possible they might not have made for the border at all."

"Indeed, having considered the matter during my journey I think it highly unlikely. The distance from here to Gretna must be one hundred and ninety miles or more." He sat for a moment, sifting through memories of his friend. "If my cousin did agree to marry Dr. Hall, what need would they have to elope? Both are over age and while parental approval is always to be desired, it is not required by the church. A marriage licence from the Bishop would see them wed with far greater expedition and comfort."

Lady Matlock dabbed the handkerchief delicately to the corner of her eye. "You are right, of course. Anne is so slight of figure I sometimes forget she is four and twenty. But why then all this secrecy? Why would they choose to steal away in such a shameful manner?"

Darcy had no problem determining the reason for their flight. "Would you and my uncle have agreed to their alliance? I need not ask whether Lady Catherine would agree, for I know she would not."

"Nothing less than a Darcy or a Duke would do for Catherine, and naturally we could not lend our support to a match that would contradict her wishes."

"It was never going to be a Darcy, unless I have a brother I was previously unaware of."

His aunt smiled. "I am well aware of your opinions, but Catherine is not. However, I still had every hope that Anne might make a good match, now her health has improved to such a degree."

Darcy smiled as he realised what the Countess had forgotten. Anne's transformation from sickly and weak to healthy and strong was all down to the experience and determination of the man she had eloped with.

Although his aunt was shocked by the circumstance of Anne’s disappearance, there were no tears or lamentations of regret for something she could not change. If he could encourage her to accept his friend as a suitor for his cousin, albeit reluctantly, the chances of a marriage between Anne and Spencer being accepted by Society would be greater. He felt he knew his friend well enough to be sure the pair would soon be married, and if pressed, he might even venture to guess where the service would take place.

"If they left here yesterday morning—"

"Oh no, dear, not yesterday. Dr. Hall took Anne out on Monday morning."

He stepped forward. "You mean to tell me Anne and Spencer left here three days ago? Why was I not informed sooner? The wording of my uncle's message led me to believe their departure was more recent. I assumed you wished me to find them and bring them home."

"I fear it is too late for that."

"If that is the case, I fail to understand how you thought I could help." Darcy's anger grew as an image of Elizabeth, waiting patiently for him, came to mind. Had his uncle's message been more explicit as to the circumstances of the elopement, he would never have left Pemberley without first speaking to her.

"Your uncle wishes to present a united front, for when Catherine arrives."

"You informed Lady Catherine of Anne's disappearance?"

"Naturally, we had to acquaint her with the circumstances. I expect her here any day." The look on her face was enough to confirm she was dreading her sister-in-law's arrival.

Darcy moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. As little as he wanted to be here, the fact remained that Spencer and Anne would appreciate his presence, especially if Lady Catherine was on her way. The thought of both aunts together in one house would almost make the journey worth while. At least he could be sure of entertainment. "Had you no apprehension of Anne having a partiality for Dr. Hall?"

"No, none at all. When we were in town he visited every week in his capacity as Anne’s doctor. He was unfailingly polite and it was obvious to us that his recommendations were doing her a great deal of good. Why, I have never seen her looking so well in all her life! Even the servants commented on it. It was only natural we should welcome Dr. Hall into our home. He stayed to dinner more than once, and struck me as being a very gentlemanlike man, while your uncle was impressed by his mode of address and intelligent conversation. You could almost forget he is only a physician."

The door opened to admit the Earl, looking tired and worn. "Ah, Darcy. You are here at last. Well, this is a bad business. Never in my life did I imagine any of my family eloping to Scotland in such an extraordinary fashion."

"I would be surprised if any such elopement has taken place," he answered in a calm voice.

"What? You mean to say Dr. Hall would take Anne from her home, her family, and not do the decent thing? I would scarce believe it of him!"

The Countess shook her head. "He does not mean that at all. Darcy thinks they might intend to wed closer to home, and I do think he has the right of it. As much as we would prefer otherwise, Anne is old enough to marry without the permission of her family, and nothing more than a licence would be required."

His lordship looked hopefully towards his nephew. "Your suggestion has much to recommend it, but I cannot like the way Dr. Hall went about the business. Why did he not seek our blessing?"

"Because he has sense enough to accept any application he made would be refused. You cannot deny that."

"No, you are quite right. Catherine would never willingly accept a physician as a son. I suppose—" But they were not to know what the Earl supposed, for at that moment a shout went up in the hallway beyond, and the doors were flung open by the aged butler who reported a carriage had been seen coming down the drive.

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

Chapter fifty-eight.

Darcy reached the door first, his aunt and uncle following close behind. Standing upon the steps, they waited impatiently for the carriage to draw before them. Darcy noted, as with his own arrival, that there seemed far more servants with business near the front of the house than should be usual for this time of day. It did not surprise him; servants were often the first to hear of any scent of scandal wafting from above stairs, and equally eager to witness the consequences.

Finally, the horses came to a stop and a footman lowered the steps. Darcy heard his aunt sigh, relieved when she saw Spencer Hall descend from the coach before holding his hand out to Anne. A short exchange followed before she took it and stepped gracefully down, putting her hand on Spencer’s arm, as though in need of the support.

Lady Matlock rushed forward and for a moment Darcy thought his aunt would forget herself and start scolding the pair on the spot, regardless of the servants, but at the last minute she seemed to recollect where they were and had to be content with a strained smile as she welcomed Anne home and ushered the couple into the house.

The act would fool no one, but the niceties had to be observed.

They made their way into the nearest parlour, where the Earl resolutely dismissed the hovering footmen before turning to the runaways. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Removing her bonnet and gloves, Anne blushed, lowering her eyes. "I ... I am sorry if we worried you, Uncle Henry."

At almost the same time, Spencer Hall stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "I am prepared to take full responsibility for my actions, sir."

Lord Matlock grunted. "We will deal with your actions later. What I want to know now is where you have been since you left here on Monday."

His wife took Anne’s left hand in her own. "Oh! It is as we thought. You are married."

"Yes," Hall admitted, "but I would never have talked Anne into such a drastic step had my hand not been forced."

"Forced? I can think of no justifiable excuse for such deplorable behaviour," the Earl said. "You ... a Physician. A man whose profession demands the utmost trust be placed in his hands. I believed you had the best interests of my niece at heart, but it now seems the only interests you considered were your own."

Anne, pulling away from her aunt, moved to stand next to her husband, as though to protect him from her uncle's wrath. "He was thinking of me. If you wish to lay the blame for this on anyone, you may do so on my mother." She turned to the Countess. "Do you recall the letter I received last week from mama?"

"Of course."

"I said nothing at the time, but in it she demanded I should ask you to return me to Rosings ... immediately, but were you to do as she asked, I knew I might never see Spencer again."

"You assumed we would comply with her wishes and send you home, even against your own will?"

Spencer comforted his wife as she nodded in silent acknowledgement. "Considering the trials Lady Catherine put her daughter through during the last four and twenty years of her life, I had no intention of allowing her the opportunity to ruin the good work of these past few months."

"I am sorry to have been so disobliging, for I am so very grateful to you both for taking me away from Mama. Had you not, I doubt whether I would have seen another five winters."

"I know you would not," her husband murmured as he looked down into her eyes, a gentle smile on his face.

Lord Matlock coughed. "Well ... well, that still does not excuse you from making such a reckless decision. Marriage is not a step to be taken lightly, nor should it be used as a means of solving a problem."

"But our decision was not in the least bit impulsive, Uncle. Spencer asked for my hand weeks ago."

"He did?" Frowning, the Earl turned to the sideboard and poured himself a restorative. "And I thought it could get no worse! Heaven knows what your mother will say."

Lady Matlock sank down onto the settee, almost speechless. "You have been betrothed ... for weeks? Oh, Anne, how could you?"

"We ... well, I thought it best to wait until the time was right. If we had made our intentions known you would attempt to dissuade me from my choice."

The Countess motioned for Anne to sit next to her. "Of course we would. It would be our responsibility to do so."

Anne sighed as she sat down next to her aunt. "But you seemed to get on so well with Spencer, even inviting him for dinner. I had hoped, given time, you might come to realise how perfect he is for me."

Darcy had been content to be a mute witness to the conversation, but at this point he stepped forward, addressing his aunt and uncle. "It appears to me, by encouraging Anne to spend time with Spencer, you are as much to blame as Aunt Catherine for this situation."

The Earl was quick to disclaim any fault on his side. "You might as well say you are to blame, Darcy, for did you not ask Dr. Hall to examine Anne in the first place?"

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Anne cried, startling them all into silence. "You might as well blame Elizabeth Bennet for falling and bumping her head in mother’s park. The fact of our marriage cannot be disputed and it is only left to you, dear Uncle, to decide whether you will accept Spencer as my husband, or cast me out in disgrace. I am supremely indifferent to your decision, for I will be happy regardless of your choice."

Hearing this ultimatum, which served to remind them all that Anne was indeed Lady Catherine's daughter, Lord and Lady Matlock took pains to reassure their niece of their acceptance of her marriage, however reluctantly. "But where did you go? You clearly did not travel to Scotland."

"I will wager they never left Derbyshire." Darcy’s smile grew. "Spencer would be unlikely to marry without the Captain’s blessing."

"Dare not, more like," Spencer grumbled.

"Then you did go to Wingthorpe."

"Yes, and had one of the carriage wheels not broken on Monday morning, we would have arrived before noon and been married the same day. It was all arranged. However, as our journey was delayed, we had to wait until yesterday morning. Of course, my father was more than happy with that arrangement. Having never had a daughter he already dotes upon Anne, who now has him firmly wrapped around her little finger."

Anne smiled. "Captain Hall is delightful. I never met a gentleman quite like him."

"I imagine not." Darcy grinned as he recalled visits to Wingthorpe in his youth, and the Captain's bluff good humour and easy, unaffected manners. Spencer had enjoyed a very different upbringing to Anne's own indeed.

Lord Matlock frowned. "You do not mean old Gregory Hall?"

"Yes. Are you acquainted with him?"

The Earl turned to his nephew. "He was a friend of your father's, was he not?" Darcy nodded his head. "Then your grandfather was the previous Lord Whitbourne." When Spencer acknowledged it as the truth, he smiled. "And your father was...?"

"The youngest of his three sons, but he found the Navy to be a most profitable occupation."

"He bought the place at Wingthorpe with his prize money, did he not? How is the old salt?"

Spencer grinned. "Happier for seeing me married, I think. Now he only waits for my brother to find a wife."

The Earl sat back in his chair. "Well, I have no complaints about your family, and under the circumstances, I can understand why you took up a profession, having no expectation of inheriting your father’s estate. I only wonder what my sister will make of it all."

Darcy stepped forward then, wishing the couple joy.

"What? No disapprobation?" Dr. Hall asked light-heartedly. "And here I was, convinced you would object to the match."

"What made you think that?"

"Well, you must admit you were questioning me closely when you believed I had Miss Darcy in my sights."

Smiling, Darcy shook his head. "Georgiana is my sister, and therefore my solemn responsibility. Anne, on the other hand, is more than able to take care of herself!" He held out his hand to Spencer. "I might not relish the thought of you as a brother, but I have no compunction in calling you cousin."

"And I felt sure you were going to be stubborn about this, Fitzwilliam," Anne whispered. "Could there be another reason for your acquiescence?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Darcy replied, a little too quickly.

Anne drew him closer to the window. "Has Elizabeth settled in at Pemberley?"

"I believe so."

"Yes, I thought she might. And is there nothing else you would like to share?"

"No, but had I not been summoned here at a moment's notice because you two had supposedly run off to Scotland, there might have been!"

Blushing, Anne examined the intricate border of the carpet beneath her feet. "I am sorry we caused you such inconvenience."

Taking her hand, he squeezed it reassuringly. "That does not matter now, as long as you are happy."

"Can you doubt it?" Anne smiled and looked across the room to where Spencer was speaking with the Earl. "My husband is the best of men. Not only will I live longer because of him, but my life will also be happier than it might otherwise have been. What else could I wish for?"

"A little understanding from your mother, perhaps?"

Anne nodded. "Yes, she will be unhappy, and I am sorry for that, but I will not return to Rosings. I would rather be a physician’s wife in London than be under the power of mama again."

Lady Matlock, who had left to order Anne’s rooms prepared for the newly wed couple, returned with news. "Another carriage has just arrived. Anne, I think your mother is here."

Anne’s face drained of colour. "Oh no!" She ran to the window, which gave onto the front prospect, just in time to catch sight of her former companion before she passed out of sight. "Mrs Jenkinson!" she squeaked. "There can be no doubt in the matter!"

Only a few moments later the sound of Lady Catherine’s voice could be heard in the foyer. "Take me to my daughter at once!"

Darcy was concerned to see Anne sink miserably onto the sofa, but Spencer was quick to comfort his wife. They both turned and waited.

When the door opened, the Matlock’s butler announced, "Lady Catherine de Bourgh," just as the lady herself swept into the room.

"Catherine! How … nice to see you. What a pleasant surprise this is."

"You can be at no loss, Eleanor, to understand the reason for my journey hither. Your own conscience must tell you why I come."

"I would like to think you came to satisfy yourself as to your daughter's health and happiness."

"After all the years you have been married to my brother, you ought to know I am not to be trifled with. Henry sent a report, most alarming in nature. My own daughter, attempting to elope with a physician, of all people! This must be a scandalous falsehood! Henry promised me Anne would be cared for and he has gone back on his word! Naturally, as soon as his letter reached me, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place to find out the truth for myself."

"If you believed the news too impossible to be true," said Anne, colouring with astonishment, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could you propose by it?"

"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted."

"Your travelling all this way to visit your family will be rather seen as a confirmation of it."

Lady Catherine looked around the room; from Lady Matlock to Anne; from Anne to Darcy; until her eyes finally lit upon Spencer Hall. "Can you declare there is no foundation for this dreadful rumour? Has my daughter stooped so low as to accept an offer from one such as you?"

Dr. Hall shrugged his shoulders. "Your Ladyship has declared it to be impossible."

"It ought to be so; it must be so, while Anne retains use of her reason. But your beguiling words and flattery may, in a moment of infatuation, have made her forget what she owes to her family. I have no doubt you drew her in!"

"If I had, I would be the last person to confess it."

"What insolence! I am not accustomed to such language as this. I am Anne's mother—the nearest relation she has left in the world—and I am entitled to know all her dearest concerns!"

"It is unfortunate that you did not show the same amount of concern over your daughter's health, Madam. You would rather watch her die a slow death than accept your judgement, and that of your husband, may have been in error. I fail to see how you can feel any moral superiority based on your behaviour."

Lady Catherine's eyes flared with anger. "Let me be rightly understood. Regardless of your opinions, this match, to which you have the audacity to aspire, can never take place. I could not for one moment accept the suit of a young man of inferior birth—little better than a tradesman—of no importance in the world, and who is wholly unallied to the family." Lady Catherine swept her arm around the room as her voice rose to a higher pitch. "Would you have sufficient honour to ask my consent? NO! And I refuse to give it!"

The Countess had a gleam of humour in her eye as she said, "I fear we are too late for refusals. Anne and Spencer are already joined as man and wife. All that is left is for us to accept the situation and give them our support.

"You are already married?" Lady Catherine uttered the question in horrified accents as she stared wild-eyed around the room, before pointing an accusing finger towards Spencer Hall. "The shame of my only daughter entering into a clandestine marriage is beyond everything! You kept this arrangement secret because you knew, under no circumstances, would you be accepted by our family. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you had been brought up."

Lord Matlock stepped forward, attempting to calm his overwrought sister. "Catherine, you forget yourself."

She turned angrily on him. "Do I? Must I stand idly by and listen as you support the upstart pretensions of a young man without family, connections or fortune? Is this to be endured?"

"Do not excite yourself, Sister. Sit down and we will discuss this in a calm and rational manner."

If anything, his calming tone only served to excite her further. "No! I will not be dissuaded from my purpose. I came here with the determined resolution of keeping my daughter safe from the likes of this ... this person," Lady Catherine shouted, balling her fists in fury. "I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment." She spun to face Lord Matlock once more. "I will instruct my attorney to ensure this marriage is annulled!"

"You will not," her brother replied.

"Surely, you would not wish this shameful union to prevail?"

Anne, who had been listening to her mother with growing disquiet, now stepped forward to confront her. "I have made my choice," she cried. "You are too late. Mama, can you not accept it and be happy for me?"

"Accept it?" she screeched. "I will never accept it, because honour, decorum, prudence ... nay interest, forbids it!"

Anne, despairing at her mother's words, sank back onto the sofa. As Dr. Hall moved to comfort her, Lady Catherine turned on him once more.

"Yes, sir, interest. Do not try to tell me that my daughter's fortune had no bearing on your decision. You had the presumption to whisk my daughter away to take part in an underhand and paltry marriage. This alliance is a disgrace! You wilfully acted against the inclinations of all. You will never be noticed by Anne's family or friends; I will make sure you are censured, slighted and despised by everyone connected with our family. Your names will never be mentioned by any of us. Anne is no longer my daughter!"

"Catherine, you go too far!" Lord Matlock's deep voice rolled around the room. "Do not presume to speak for my actions or behaviour."

Spencer stepped forward to confront his new mother-in-law. "Those misfortunes you enumerate would be heavy indeed, but with Anne as my wife I will ensure she has such extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation that she will have no cause to repine her choice."

"You obstinate man! I am ashamed of you. Is this your notion of professional conduct?" She turned in appeal to Darcy. "Nephew! Why do you remain silent? Have you nothing to say to this shameful alliance?"

"Yes, but my feelings on this occasion do not reflect your own, Lady Catherine. On the contrary, my cousin and her husband have my blessing."

"But Anne was meant for you!"

"Anne was not confined to me, neither by honour nor inclination."

Lady Catherine spun around until she faced the newlyweds, her face showing both disdain and frustration. "I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I will ensure you cannot touch a penny of Anne’s inheritance. I will speak to the best lawyers in London if I have to. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims and I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment."

"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable, but it has little effect on me," Spencer Hall replied calmly. "I did not marry your daughter for her money."

"Be quiet! I will not be interrupted. You will hear me in silence." She brandished a finger menacingly at the doctor. "My daughter is descended, on the maternal side, from a noble line; and, on the father's, from a respectable, honourable, and ancient family. Who are you to put yourself forward in such a way?

"Sister! You must sit down and do not excite yourself so!" Lord Matlock said, as Lady Catherine took an all too brief moment to draw breath. "Do you think I have not asked this question already? Dr. Hall's family is not as undistinguished as you may first imagine. His line is just as honourable as Anne’s. Dr. Hall is the grandson of Lord Whitbourne."

Twisting towards her brother, Lady Catherine sneered. "I do not care if he is the grandson of the King himself, no daughter of mine will be the wife of a charlatan."

"You can now have nothing further to say, Mama," Anne answered resentfully. "You have insulted my husband by every possible method."

"You are resolved, then, to remain with him?"

Anne looked across at Dr. Hall and smiled. "I am."

"Heaven and earth! Of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Rosings to be thus polluted?" Lady Catherine spat. She walked away from them before turning to look at her daughter once more; her expression anguished. "I have no ... no ..." she cried before suddenly lifting both hands to her head, as though in pain.

Without another sound she crumpled to the floor.

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

At Pemberley, Elizabeth left the house to wander though the gardens before finally settling onto the seat in the rose garden, the one place that reminded her so much of Mr. Darcy.

Although Georgiana and Jane had both made efforts to distract her from her melancholy thoughts, Elizabeth suffered a want of cheerfulness that nothing seemed to alleviate. Their host's absence had been briefly commented on, but other than that his name had not been mentioned; no doubt to spare her any further discomfort. How could they know she would have welcomed discussion of him above all else?

The only occasion when Georgiana had spoken of her brother, it had not been positive news. In her experience, a visit to Matlock Hall could easily extend to a week, and Elizabeth was not sure she could wait that long.

She was about to return to the house when she spied Nathan, his long strides covering the distance between them with ease. From his countenance and manner, she could almost see the small grey thundercloud hovering over his head, and it did not tax her imagination to speculate on the cause.

"Is there any wonder I have no appetite when the mere sight of her gives me such heartburn?"

Elizabeth did not need to ask to whom he was referring. Georgiana had not yet forgiven him. "What is the matter now?"

"My timing was ill this morning. I stayed too long at the breakfast table and was made to regret it. Why can Miss Darcy not have her breakfast sent up on a tray, like any other useless young woman? I could tell from her face that my very presence was objectionable. She even suggested if my purpose here is to assist Mr. Johnson and learn how an estate works, then perhaps I should eat my meals with all the other servants! That it would be good experience for me! Of course, she never says anything in a way that would invite chastisement from her companion. Her insinuations are voiced so sweetly no one else considers them even remotely ill mannered, but to me her intent is obvious."

Elizabeth was well aware that Mrs Annesley's habit was to correct her charge in private, but Nathan did not need to know how often she had been spoken to about her behaviour since his arrival. "Are you not being a little over sensitive? Perhaps she made her suggestion in good faith."

"You did not see the gleam of unholy triumph in her eyes when Mrs Annesley failed to disagree with her. Miss Darcy is a fiend, sent from Hell to torment me."

"Perhaps if you had acted in a more gentlemanlike way when you first met Miss Darcy, she might have felt some compunction to treat you as a gentleman. This is a perfect example of how important first impressions of someone can be. I hope you have at least learned your lesson from it."

Having taken a dislike to Mr. Darcy on the occasion of their first meeting, Elizabeth understood how difficult it was to accept your own opinion might be at fault. It would take time before Georgiana accepted that their first meeting had given her a distorted view of her cousin's character.

Nathan slapped his palm on his thigh in frustration. "Having apologised once already, what more can I do? It is not as though I have ever desired her good opinion."

Elizabeth frowned as she heard herself speaking similar words—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly—and yet she could not remember speaking them. She rubbed at her temple.

Seemingly ignorant of her inattention, her young cousin continued, his anger undiminished. "Perhaps I was wrong to say the company below stairs would be infinitely preferable, but were her own words not some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?"

More words echoed through her mind—But I have other provocations. You know I have—and yet, although the two sentences somehow went together, she knew not how or why. Closing her eyes, Nathan’s voice seemed muted, as though coming from a great distance, while a voice that seemed vaguely familiar to her whispered in her head. Could you expect me to rejoice ... to congratulate ... Elizabeth clutched at her forehead as a spike of pain plunged through her skull, sending her reeling.

Sensing something was amiss, Nathan crouched by her side. "Lizzy? Lizzy, are you ill?"

She sat up, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. "No, no ... I am well. There is no need for concern. ‘Tis only a headache."

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

Chapter fifty-nine.

A calm quietude prevailed in the library at Matlock Hall, with no breeze to disturb the motes of dust hanging in the air. The whole house seemed to be shrouded in silence, as though in mourning; although, as far as Darcy was aware, the treatment of Lady Catherine by her new son-in-law continued upstairs. Like everyone else, he was forced to wait for news.

His aunt’s collapse had occurred so quickly he almost imagined she had been hit by lightning as she dropped to the ground. Anne shrieked, calling out to her mother, but Spencer, clearly recognising something in the manner of her fall, had started towards Lady Catherine within seconds, taking charge of her welfare with no concern for her earlier imprecations against him.

Once he had satisfied himself to her condition, Spencer had ordered the servants to carry her upstairs, where a bedchamber was hastily prepared. Since then, the occupants of the Hall had had little to do but prowl the corridors, waiting for news. Every minute of delay sat ill with Darcy—his heart strained against the leash of family duty—but, the idea of returning to Pemberley without knowing how his aunt fared was unthinkable.

Surely he would not be made to wait much longer?

A book sat open in his lap, unread and ignored, his mind otherwise occupied with his last memory of Elizabeth as he had taken his leave of her that morning. He had found it nigh on impossible to walk away from her, when he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and profess his love. Elizabeth had been disappointed by his refusal to speak, not realising how much he needed to tell her. Only his determination to divulge the whole truth of their meeting in the park at Rosings had forced him from the house with the words unspoken. The subsequent events of the day had not altered his opinion one whit; the story of Anne and Spencer’s elopement had, if anything, made him more determined to make Elizabeth his, and as soon as possible.

Rehearsing what he might say to her when they were next alone, Darcy imagined Elizabeth’s reaction to his declaration. This time he hoped her response would be quite different. He had learned a lesson; hard indeed at first, but ultimately advantageous. This time he would not—could not—presume she would fall at his feet in gratitude. That was the last thing he desired.

He wanted Elizabeth to accept him because she loved him, with all her heart ... as he loved her.

As Anne loved Spencer.

Ever since they were children Anne had been suffocated under her mother’s rule. Spencer, on the other hand, had always been outgoing and determined, but with too much respect for his father to contract such a hasty alliance. That they had chosen to marry at Wingthorpe, in the presence of Captain Hall, had only gone to confirm Darcy’s opinion.

Of course, Elizabeth's situation was different. Were he fortunate enough to secure a positive response to his second proposal, they would have to journey to Longbourn to ask Mr. Bennet’s permission before they could marry. Mrs Bennet would no doubt wish to plan an elaborate wedding breakfast and Elizabeth would need time to prepare clothes and the like. Darcy's own responsibilities—to see to the settlement documents and collect the jewels his mother had left for just this eventuality—would also delay matters.

He wished Elizabeth had been older—or he a little less honourable—for he found himself envying the simplicity and speed of Anne and Spencer's union.

He heard his uncle's voice in the hallway beyond, and a few moments later the Earl joined him. "Ah ... there you are. All this fuss over Catherine has left me feeling quite worn out." Pouring himself another brandy, his uncle sank gratefully into the chair next to Darcy. "It was a good thing Dr. Hall happened to be on hand when she collapsed, because Dr. Bricknall is a devilish tricky fellow to get hold of at times."

"Where is Spencer?"

"Upstairs, with his patient. My wife has taken Anne off somewhere, out of the way. Poor girl was distraught, thinking she might be the cause of her mother's apoplexy, although I did try to tell her it was not necessarily the case. She will blame herself so, but it is a pointless exercise. Catherine always was highly strung and her anger often gets the better of her."

Darcy slid the book onto the table by his elbow. "Is she likely to survive?"

The Earl looked up suddenly, as though the possibility his sister might die had not occurred to him. "Yes, of course. Hall did not doubt it for a moment, although he did caution me that, at her age, she will never be the same. One side of her body is quite affected, and she may not recover the full use of her hand. He says her speech will also be impaired. My grandfather suffered something very similar, although I was barely breeched at the time. I remember the servants manhandling him from room to room, but he lived on for years. It is all up to Hall now, I suppose. Fortuitous, having a doctor in the family, eh?"

"So you do not object to Anne’s marriage?"

The earl’s laugh reverberated around the bookshelves. "A little late for objections now, don’t you think? They have been married for more than twenty-four hours, and I presume a medical man knows how things work."

"But what of Aunt Catherine’s repudiation of Spencer?"

"It makes not a mite of difference to me what Catherine thinks. After receiving assurances from my wife that Anne had no hopes of marriage prior to leaving Rosings—due in no small part to her sickly disposition—it seems to me Dr. Hall reaped what he sowed. To be honest, I am glad. I remember being shocked at how thin and miserable she looked when I took her from Kent, and even I recognise the difference Hall’s treatment made. She could have set her sights high had she wished, higher than you even, but if she has found herself a love match, and was prepared to marry him out of hand, who am I to say nay? She might just as easily have run off with a rake, with only an eye for her fortune! Dr. Hall might not be what her mother wished for, but I know he’s a good, and above all an honest man, and you cannot say the same about everyone these days."

"I agree, and if circumstances warrant it, he will make an excellent landlord too."

"Of course. Rosings has been part of Anne's dowry since Lewis's death, although Catherine could never accept that fact. Dr. Hall is now a man of property. Does he understand the responsibility he takes on, I wonder?"

"Spencer has no idea of land management, but an experienced steward will go a long way to redressing that deficit, and I will engage to teach him what he must learn."

Lady Matlock entered the room, searching out her husband and nephew. She had some news of the invalid, but the prognosis remained inconclusive. Many more hours would be needed before Dr. Hall could say how badly affected Lady Catherine had been by her stroke.

Darcy stood. "Then there is no benefit in my remaining here any longer. Particularly when I have guests of my own."

"Of course not. Return to Pemberley, we will look after Catherine," the Earl said graciously. He then excused himself, having some letters to write, leaving Darcy with his aunt, whose countenance remained bleak.

Darcy knew the two women—wife and sister— tolerated each other’s company only under sufferance, so understood how hard it would be for the Countess to accept the enforced presence of her sister-in-law.

Lady Matlock swept a hand mechanically over her greying hair, despite there being not a strand out of place. "I never expected I would be forced to care for her in my own home," she said, after some minutes of silence. "The only hopeful prospect I can see is I will not have to listen to Catherine bemoaning her fate." She sniffed, pulled out a small square of white linen and dabbed at her nose delicately. Shaking herself, she gave Darcy a brittle smile. "Do not mind me, my dear. It is just the shock. I am sure I will soon recover my spirits."

It seemed to Darcy that his aunt was more upset by the prospect of Lady Catherine’s illness—and possibly her protracted stay at Matlock—than she had ever been by her niece’s sudden marriage.

"And what of Miss Bennet?" she said as she perched on the edge of the settee. "Considering the gossip that will abound once Anne's marriage is known, your own match—even to a country gentleman's daughter—will seem a model of propriety in comparison."

Unsurprised by his aunt's declaration, he smiled. "Another reason why I should delay my return no longer."

She looked up at the clock. "The hour grows late. Will you at least remain here tonight? You can set off for Pemberley first thing tomorrow."

Darcy briefly considered remaining overnight, but his heart recoiled at the idea of staying away from home one hour longer than necessary. "I cannot. If I leave now there will be enough light to reach home safely. Now the matter between Anne and Spencer has been resolved and as we are unlikely to learn any more of Lady Catherine in the short term, I should be gone."

"But if you leave now you will not reach Pemberley in time for dinner!"

"I would rather arrive late tonight than lose another day. If I am fortunate I might even get back before the household retires to bed."

Lady Matlock smiled. "Ah! What it is to be young, and able to travel at the drop of a hat! You had better delay no longer then. I trust you will write and let me know how you get on."

"Certainly."

Now desperate to be home, he returned to his room and instructed Marriott to pack his things with all haste. No more than half an hour later, Darcy was striding through the grand door, impatient to be on his way. As he put his boot on the carriage step, a voice behind him caused him to pause.

"Ho, Darcy!"

Spinning around he found Spencer Hall and Anne at the bottom of the steps. "How is Lady Catherine?"

Anne's face dropped, and Spencer gave her a look filled with sympathy before returning his attention to Darcy. "It is hard to tell at the moment. With care she could recover some movement tolerably well, although considering her age I doubt she will make a full recovery. Of course, I will be on hand to look after her, once we return to Kent."

"You will be giving up your practice then?"

"It appears so." Again Spencer glanced at Anne, who returned a warm smile. "After everything that has happened today, we can no longer consider leaving Lady Catherine alone at Rosings. Besides, Anne does not want me to work. She considers the estate and looking after her mother will be enough, but I would like to investigate the possibility of setting up a small hospital in the area. There is one at Tonbridge and another at Maidstone, both of which are horribly overstretched."

"A lofty ambition. The first thing you will need though is a new steward, as Uncle Henry never did succeed in appointing someone to the task. If you wish for my assistance, do not hesitate to send me a note and I will help you all I can."

Spencer grinned. "First should you not set your own estate in order and fill the vacancy that has arisen?"

"Has marriage addled your brain? What vacancy?"

"I think my husband is trying to tease you, Fitzwilliam," Anne replied. "Although I cannot say he shows much aptitude for it at present. The vacancy he is referring to is for Mistress of Pemberley."

Darcy sighed. "Well, as to that, I can only do my poor best. Of course, to be successful I have to be elsewhere." His gaze drifted to Spencer. "But, before I leave, may I ask a question ... in your professional capacity?"

"Yes, of course." Dr. Hall looked expressively at his new wife, waiting as she drifted away, allowing them a moment of privacy. "What would you like to know?"

"I have thought often of Miss Bennet’s lost memories since we were in Kent. As time passes, is it more or less likely they will return?"

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. "It is hard to say. She might live for years with no inkling of what happened to her, but they could also come back like that." The snap of his fingers illustrated his point.

Imagining what might happen if Elizabeth's memories returned before he spoke to her, Darcy shivered.

"Are you well, Darcy? You look a little pale."

"I must be for home. I have stayed away too long."

Spencer rubbed at his face. He opened his mouth but closed it again, as though he was undecided whether to speak. Eventually, he said, "Has Miss Bennet mentioned having any strange dreams since arriving in Derbyshire?"

"What kind of dreams?"

The doctor shrugged. "She did not elaborate. When we walked in Hyde Park, it was something she mentioned. Miss Bennet was concerned they might be connected with her accident."

"I have heard nothing, but then she would not confide in me."

"Ah well, perhaps it was of no importance after all." Spencer caught Darcy glancing towards the coach and laughed. "Forgive me, my friend. We are detaining you from an important journey and will not hold you here any longer."

Anne rejoined them. "Yes, cousin, I expect to receive good news before the end of the week!"

As Darcy climbed into his carriage, Spencer closed the door behind him, leaning through the open window. "I wish you luck, Darcy. I am convinced you will find all the happiness you seek with Miss Bennet. Now go!"

Darcy waved to them both through the window before relaxing back into the squabs as the carriage horses took the strain; his eagerness to be miles away communicating itself to the animals.

Memories of the hours spent in Elizabeth's company contrived to keep him sane during his journey. The way her mouth twitched when she thought something funny; how there seemed to be a sparkle in her eye whenever he touched her hand; the warmth of her skin when he had kissed her fingers that morning in the dining room.

Darcy knew he had passed the bounds of propriety by being so familiar, but he found he could not help himself. He sensed a connection to Elizabeth, in a way he had never experienced with another living soul. The idea of a life without her was something he did not wish to dwell on.

As the sun began to drop towards the horizon, Darcy checked his watch in the light of its dying rays. At Pemberley they would just be sitting down to dinner, but there were many miles to travel before he could join them. He wondered whether it would be too late to speak to Elizabeth when he arrived home. If he was forced to wait until tomorrow, he knew he would enjoy no sleep tonight.

The journey home seemed to take twice as long and the relief that welled up inside him as the carriage pulled through the stone pillars marking the entrance to his estate was unlike anything Darcy had ever experienced.

But, then again, there had never been anything so precious for him to come home to before.

When his coach finally stopped in front of the great door, it was well past the dinner hour, although not unreasonably so. The butler expressed no surprise at his master’s unexpected return, but simply commented that Miss Darcy and her guests were in the music room.

Grateful he was not too late, Darcy strode through the corridors, accompanied by a haunting melody as someone played a sonata on the pianoforte. The doors stood ajar and beyond them Mrs Bingley and Mrs Annesley sat on the sofa. Bingley stood behind his wife, and all three were looking towards the instrument in the corner. Nathan, meanwhile, gazed through the window; his countenance as dark as the sky outside.

The notes drifted up and down, curling like smoke around the room, but as Darcy opened the doors, he paid no attention to the music flowing from his sister’s fingers. Looking around, he realised the one face he had hoped to see was not there.

"Where is Elizabeth?"

It had been an unconscious use of her Christian name, and once Darcy realised his error he stiffened slightly, wondering what the others would say. However, no one appeared to have noticed the familiarity of his address as Mrs Bingley gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Lizzy has not been herself today. A slight headache, I think. Mrs Reynolds gave her something to help her sleep and she went to bed as soon as we finished dinner. Georgiana has been practising this piece for you today. Do you not think she played it beautifully?"

Gone to bed? The disappointment was like a lead ball in his stomach, weighing him down. "What? Oh ... yes, it was well done," he added belatedly.

Georgiana smiled, making him ashamed that he had not paid more attention to the music. "Well? What is the news from our Aunt and Uncle?"

"Yes, Darcy!" Bingley walked around the settee. "You went off before breakfast without a word to any one. What was it that got you so fired up?"

"I am pleased to announce the marriage of my cousin Anne to—"

Georgiana squealed, and raced across the room to throw her arms around her brother. "To Dr. Hall!"

"Ah, it seems their engagement was not wholly unexpected. How long have you known about them, and why did you say nothing to me?"

Georgiana coloured, putting her hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "I did not know! Well ... I knew nothing definite. After I thought you would be marrying Anne, and she explained why that would not be so, she said something that suggested she had a tendre for someone else. I had watched Dr. Hall carefully when he came to Curzon Street and have long suspected his heart belonged to Anne, but I thought their different circumstances would prevent them acting on their feelings. I am so glad I was wrong."

Somewhat mollified that Georgiana had no long standing conviction of Anne's engagement, Darcy then described the circumstances of Lady Catherine's illness, without revealing its source. The company expressed their shock at the situation and he was able to explain the difference Spencer's prompt attention had made.

Understanding he would not be able to speak to Elizabeth until tomorrow, Darcy—now conscious that he had not eaten in some hours—ordered a tray to be sent to his study. As he tucked in to the slices of meat and bread, he caught up on some of the issues that had arisen during his absence and made notes for his steward to deal with.

Sitting in the silence of his room, his pen scratching on the paper, his thoughts drifted again to Elizabeth. Her disappointment on the morning of his departure had given him hope. He was sure Elizabeth knew the question he had so desperately wanted to ask, but there was more to tell. Should he offer his proposal and then acquaint her with their previous meeting, or might the information be better imparted the other way around?

And if she said yes, how much longer would he have to wait before they could be married?

Darcy glanced at the clock on the shadowed mantelpiece. There were many hours before he might have the chance to speak to Elizabeth and he returned his attention to his work. He counted the days. If he obtained a licence, avoiding the need for banns, might he make Elizabeth his within a se'nnight?

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

Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed upon the canopy of the bed, her head cushioned by the down-filled pillow. The pain still throbbed behind her eyes, keeping her from any meaningful kind of sleep.

She had been oddly disconnected all day, unable to settle to the simplest of tasks. Nathan's arm had supported her as they walked back to the house, before depositing Elizabeth in the company of her sister. The pain in her head had grown, blotting out any interest in company, or even food. At dinner that night, she was tempted with little and ate even less, to the obvious concern of everyone present.

As the ladies left the remaining gentlemen to their own devices, Jane bundled her off to bed and Elizabeth had gone willingly.

Since taking the draught Mrs Reynolds had pressed upon her, the intensity of the ache in her head had lessened somewhat, but had not faded completely, and she had twice climbed out of bed to prowl around the room, restlessly examining the ornaments and pictures, or looking through the window at the scene below.

The sky was dark outside. The only source of light highlighting the flowerbeds was the blue grey wash of moonlight, turning the garden into a monochrome of shapes and textures. She stared out into the darkness for a long time, wondering how long Mr. Darcy would be away.

After some time, her eyes grew heavy and she returned to the bed, resting back against the pillows gratefully. After much tossing and turning she managed to fall asleep, but soon the images assailed her, sending confused thoughts and sounds around her head like dandelion seeds cast onto the winds.

It was snowing again. The fluffy white snowflakes fell silently all around her, but she did not feel the cold. Elizabeth stretched out her hand and allowed one of the flakes to fall into her palm. As she closed her fingers around the fragile crystal it felt strange. She unclenched her hand to examine it again. It was not a snowflake, but a petal. A soft, white petal from a flower. Gazing around her, she realised she now stood within a loose circle of apple trees, heavily laden with white blossom. The wind blew through the trees, plucking the delicate blooms from the branches and swirling them around her head, just like snow falling in the depths of winter.

Turning, she saw the stone temple, a location her dreams had brought her back to with an ever increasing frequency. She glanced around, hoping to see Mr. Darcy. As though her thoughts alone summoned him, Elizabeth heard the sound of a horse galloping as he arrived and she waited eagerly until he stood before her.

Once more, he opened his heart, divulging his ardent admiration and love, but this time she did not wake. The dream continued, as he poured forth an avowal of all he felt, and had long felt for her, lifting her heart as though it had wings. As the stormy sky darkened he spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was no more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which had always opposed his inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which stabbed like a knife; all the more so because she had come to love him so deeply.

In her slumber, Elizabeth's forehead creased as the dream continued unabated. She thrashed her head back and forth across the pillow, as though repudiating the vision only she could see, and the words only she could hear.

Even as Elizabeth lay sleeping, a single tear ran unchecked down her face.

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

Chapter sixty.

Jane woke to find the room still dark. The purple light of daybreak and the first stirrings of the dawn chorus crept between the hinges of the window shutters. Becoming more conscious of her surroundings, she smiled as she sensed the comforting weight of her husband's arm draped over her and the warmth of his breath on her neck.

A succession of knocks made her jump and she lifted her head from the bed. Realising a sound at the door must have roused her, she looked down to see Charles, still sleeping peacefully. Having been married for two months, Jane now believed him capable of sleeping through most things in the morning.

She grabbed her dressing gown, wrapping the silk around her and pushing her feet into her slippers before moving to the door. She found Pemberley's housekeeper in the hallway, similarly attired. "Mrs Reynolds! Is something wrong?"

The housekeeper's expression did not console her. "I hope not, Ma'am. The under house maid woke me this morning. She’d been carrying the coals upstairs, ready to light the fires, when she heard crying from Miss Bennet's room. It worried her enough she thought someone ought to be told. I've been to see her myself and I'm sorry to say she is very distressed. I know not the reason for it. She would not speak of her troubles to me. I thought you would want to be informed, Ma'am."

"Oh! Yes ... yes! I will come." Jane looked down at her attire, wondering if she should dress first. Walking around the hallways in your night clothes might be acceptable behaviour at Longbourn, but she could not imagine acting in such a way at Pemberley.

Mrs Reynolds seemed to sense her thoughts. "I think your sister would appreciate your presence sooner rather than later, Mrs Bingley. I will arrange for your maid to bring your things to Miss Bennet's room."

The woman's comment only served to concern Jane all the more, but she begged a moment to speak to her husband. Closing the door, she sat on their bed and grasped Charles's shoulder, giving him a shake. "Charles ... Charles! I have to go to Lizzy."

"Mmmm? What?"

"Lizzy is unwell. I must go to her."

Charles woke, concentrating as he brought his sleepy eyes into focus. He shook his head as his confusion made way for indignation. "You are leaving this room dressed like that?"

She unconsciously tightened the belt of her dressing gown. Of all the garments her mother had helped her choose prior to her marriage, the embroidered linen had been one of her more modest choices. "Mrs Reynolds thinks it imperative I go to Lizzy. I did not want you to worry where I was. I will dress in Lizzy's room, but I must go now."

Her serious tone finally penetrated his understanding and he sat up in bed, the covers collecting around his waist as he stroked her shoulder. "Give Lizzy a hug from me, my Angel."

Jane whispered her promise to do as he asked, before slipping into the silent corridor. Mrs Reynolds did not hide her relief when the door opened and wasted no time in directing Mrs Bingley down the hall and around a corner.

There, they were forced to stop. In front of Elizabeth’s bedroom door, a young girl—a housemaid, Jane guessed from her dress—barred the passage of the Master of the house. She flashed a grateful smile when Mrs Reynolds arrived, glad to be spared any responsibility for the situation she found herself in.

Ignoring Mr. Darcy’s desperate request for information, the housekeeper swept Jane along in her wake and ushered her into the room before turning to face him. The door closed behind Jane as Mrs Reynolds' voice rose in question to her master. However, all other considerations were soon banished from her mind as she surveyed the state of her sister's room.

She found the bed covers in disarray and the pillows strewn across the floor. Elizabeth had curled up on the end of the bed, her head in her hands as she sobbed miserably. Running across the room, Jane fell to her knees, cradling her sister.

The warmth of her comfort made Elizabeth cry harder, but Jane knew it would only be a matter of time before her tears would subside. She stroked her hair and murmured comforting words until she heard no more than an occasional sniffle from the woman in her arms.

Sometime later, Jane realised Elizabeth had fallen asleep leaning against her shoulder. Fortunately, the door of the dressing room opened soon after and Mrs Reynolds peered in the room, followed by Jane's own maid. Between them, the chamber was set to rights and new sheets placed on the mattress. They managed to put Elizabeth back into her bed before Jane dressed in a plain yellow morning gown, while the housekeeper arranged a vase of fresh cut roses on the windowsill to brighten the room.

After assuring her Miss Bennet would sleep for some time, Mrs Reynolds left a maid with Elizabeth while Jane returned to her own room. She found her husband sitting on the end of the bed, paring his nails in an unhurried manner.

"Is everything well now, my love?"

"Oh, Charles, Lizzy fell asleep before I had the chance to discover what had upset her. I must not delay here; I would like to return to her side before she wakes."

He stood. "Will you join me for breakfast?" She shook her head. "Then I shall order you a tray, for you will be of no help to Lizzy if you should faint with hunger." Pulling Jane closer, he dropped his head to press a leisurely kiss on her lips.

"You can do one little thing for me," Jane said when he released her. "Encourage Mr. Darcy to take a ride this morning."

"You wish him out of his own house?"

"Only until I discover what has upset my sister."

"I will try my best, although I doubt he will be interested."

As she retraced her steps to the upper floor, Jane was not wholly surprised to find Mr. Darcy pacing up and down outside Elizabeth’s room. His shirt and waistcoat had not been changed from the previous night and his dark curls were disordered, as though he had run his fingers through them more than once. He appeared not to have slept. As she walked closer, he checked his movement and favoured her with a bow. "Good morning, Mrs Bingley."

Jane curtsied. "My husband is downstairs in the breakfast room if you are looking for him."

"No. I ... I hoped you might tell me how Miss Bennet does this morning? I understand she is taken ill."

"I do not yet know what is wrong, Mr. Darcy. I am waiting to speak to her."

He stared at Elizabeth's door, and Jane thought she heard him sigh. "If Miss Bennet needs anything ... if I can help in any way ... inform Mrs Reynolds and it will be done."

"Thank you. I will be sure to ask." She tried to reassure him with a smile. His anguish showed in the dark shadows under his eyes and she sympathised with him, but until she had spoken to Lizzy and discovered the cause of her strange outburst in the night, her worry equalled his.

Jane let herself into Elizabeth’s room, closing the door firmly behind her. The maid who had been set to watch over her sister remained by the end of the bed, working through a pile of darning. Jane remembered a time when she had done something similar at Longbourn, when Lydia had the quinsy. She thanked the woman and watched her leave through the dressing room, before sitting next to the bed and holding her sister’s hand. She sat silently for a further half an hour before Lizzy became restless in her sleep and started murmuring to herself. Jane stroked her hand, hoping to calm her, but after a few minutes she grew anxious, her head rolling from side to side as though she suffered a fever.

One moment she was quiet, the next Lizzy's eyes snapped open as she cried out an impassioned, "No!" The tears rolled down her pale cheeks as she turned to look at Jane. For a brief moment there was no hint of recognition in her eyes, then they softened slightly and she sighed.

"Shhh, Lizzy. It is me … Jane. Nothing here will hurt you."

She mumbled what sounded like "... a dream." Jane held her closer, relived her sister suffered nothing worse than a nightmare. However, when Elizabeth spoke again her words were clearer and more definite. "It was no dream, Jane! I remember."

"What do you remember?"

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes red from her tears. "Everything."

Jane listened as her sister spoke; haltingly at first, but growing stronger with the telling. Initially, the experience she described did seem more like a dream than a memory, particularly when she related the chief of the scene that had taken place between Mr. Darcy and herself. Jane understood the power of wishful thinking and presumed Elizabeth had been captured in its toils. Her disbelief was lessened only by the strong sisterly partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural and all surprise that their host might have made an offer for Lizzy all those months ago was soon lost in other feelings.

If it were true—and she still could not be sure either way—Jane was sorry Mr. Darcy had delivered his sentiments in a manner so little suited to recommend them, but equally she grieved for the unhappiness her sister’s refusal must have given him.

At least this began to explain why Mr. Darcy had appeared to be so in love and yet been so reticent about making her sister an offer.

Jane dipped a cloth in water before wringing the excess out and reapplying the pad to Elizabeth's forehead, easing the pain. "It is almost past belief! And poor Mr. Darcy! Dearest Lizzy, only consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment, and with the knowledge of your ill opinion, too! Such a distressing circumstance; I am sure you must feel it so."

"Indeed, I am heartily sorry for his suffering," Elizabeth replied, with more than a hint of insincerity, "but there are other things to reveal, which will soon drive away your regard for him. When I remember how proud he was of separating you from Charles." She pursed her lips and shook her head, dislodging the cloth.

Jane sympathised with her sister, but could not stand by and allow her to malign a man she knew to be a loyal friend to her husband. "He did not separate Charles and I, as you are well aware. Mr. Darcy encouraged Charles to return to Netherfield, and even told him I was in London."

Elizabeth's fingers clutched at the counterpane. "But do you not see? Mr. Darcy prompted his flight from Netherfield in the first place! He told me so! Everything in his power to separate his friend from my sister, those were his exact words."

Despite her concern that Lizzy's thoughts were focussed too firmly in the past, Jane felt obliged to point out the obvious flaw in her sister’s logic. "And yet Charles and I are married, and Mr. Darcy stood beside us," she reminded her gently. "He found out I was in London and went out of his way to make Charles aware of it. Perhaps your conversation at Rosings had some bearing on his decision? Whatever opinions he once possessed do seem to have changed over recent months."

Elizabeth yawned, exhausted from her disturbed sleep. "You do not blame me, though, for refusing him?"

"Blame you! Oh, no. Not if he proposed in the way you described."

"But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham."

Wrapping her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder, she tried to reassure her. "When those words were spoken, you had heard nothing to the discredit of the Lieutenant. It was not until Mr. Darcy told papa—"

"After I had challenged him!"

Jane smiled, knowing the full implication of her sentence had yet to imprint itself on her sister’s mind. "Perhaps Mr. Darcy wanted you in possession of the facts about Mr. Wickham so you could make an informed decision? What had you accused him of?"

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. "Reducing Mr. Wickham to his state of poverty and withholding advantages designed for him. Oh, Jane! However can I face Mr. Darcy again? What must he think of me?"

"According to your opinion he thinks very little of you ... or at least of our family, but if that were the case why would he invite you here or encourage your friendship with his sister?"

"Why indeed?" Elizabeth clutched at her aching head. "Oh, I do not know what to believe! His words ... the manner of his proposal ... my cursed memories … they repeat in my head over and over, until I can hardly comprehend where I am. I wish they had never returned. Even if Mr. Darcy's has changed his opinions, what of the things I said to him?"

"Yes, it was unfortunate you should have used such very strong expressions in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they do appear wholly undeserved. But perhaps Mr. Darcy does not remember what you said?"

"How could he not, when I recall it in every detail?"

Jane privately thought the shock of her memory returning had overwhelmed her sister to the point where Elizabeth had forgotten the strength of Mr. Darcy’s attachment. Either that or the event had never truly taken place, except in her sister’s mind. Her description of the proposal seemed at odds with the behaviour she had herself witnessed between the two at Pemberley. Mr. Darcy had shown no signs of despising the Bennet family, nor did he seem the sort of man who would make such a poorly worded offer of marriage. In fact, there was very little of the story she could credit beyond doubt, and she remained inclined to believe it part of a very bad dream.

Her sister sighed as she lay back against the pillows. "It is now clear what made him so unwilling to come to the point. A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect him to repeat words that have already been spoken? Is there one among his sex who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman?" Elizabeth dashed away a treacherous tear. "There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings. The idea of seeing him ... talking to him; I cannot do it."

"But Mr. Darcy is our host. You can hardly avoid him."

Elizabeth grabbed Jane's arm as she swung her legs from the bed. "Can you and Charles not take me home? Today?"

She stared at her miserable sister, begging to be returned to Longbourn. Even a day earlier Jane could not imagine Lizzy asking to go back to Hertfordshire. In fact, only two days ago she had spoken of a desire to remain at Pemberley for the rest of her life. "You would leave without speaking to Mr. Darcy? Is that truly what you want? He will still be Charles' friend. You cannot avoid his acquaintance forever. And what of Miss Darcy? Would you shun her over this?"

Upon hearing this, Elizabeth seemed to calm. "No … no, you are right, I cannot. Regardless of what has happened between me and Mr. Darcy, I could never eschew Georgiana's friendship."

"Then perhaps you should consider what pain she might suffer if you choose to leave so abruptly."

Elizabeth rubbed at her forehead. "If only the pain would go. This ache in my head makes it so difficult to concentrate. I am so confused. What should I do, Jane? Advise me."

Jane looked at the timepiece on the mantel. Despite having been woken hours ago, it still wanted a few minutes to nine o'clock. "Well, first of all, I think you should try to sleep a little more. You are still very tired and that may be the reason your mind remains unsettled." Elizabeth sank back onto the bed and Jane pulled the sheet up, tucking her in like a child. "While you are sleeping I will consider what you have told me and will return later to discuss what should be done."

Nodding, Elizabeth relaxed as her eyes fluttered closed.

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

Charles lifted another slice of beef from the platter. "Come now, Darcy. You are looking pale. A ride in the park, with all that fresh air … it will do you good."

"No, not today."

"Not even for half an hour? Well, this is a fine thing. I thought a good host always saw to his guest's entertainment?"

Darcy sipped his coffee, unable to explain to his friend what kept him at home. "I fear I will be poor company this morning. Besides, there is a task that requires my attention."

Charles eyed him suspiciously, but made no further attempt to solicit his company. Darcy had only spoken the truth. He would not leave the house until he had found the opportunity to speak to Mrs Bingley, or better still to Elizabeth herself.

Georgiana had chosen to breakfast in her room, so she could not yet know of Elizabeth's indisposition. Darcy doubted he would have heard about it so quickly had he not already been awake and overheard a conversation between two of the maids. Bingley had dismissed the news with a wave of his hand, mumbling something incoherent about ladies' problems and reassuring him that Jane would deal with it.

After a few moments of silence, Darcy stood, excusing himself as he left the dining room and retired to his study. However, rather than taking the seat behind his desk, he moved to stand by the window, looking down upon the rose garden his mother had planted. He often visited it when he needed comfort or guidance. At those times it almost felt as though he were surrounded by the loving embrace of the mother he remembered from his childhood. He wondered what advice she might have had for him, had she been alive; what would she think of Elizabeth.

There was no need to speculate on the latter question. His mother would have loved Elizabeth ... because he loved Elizabeth.

If only he could be sure that she was only ill and not suffering from the return of her memories. Should he write to Spencer? After all, his uncle's estate was less than half a day’s travel away; he could be at Pemberley by dinner. No, Mrs Reynolds had assured him Elizabeth's indisposition did not require a doctor and Spencer was needed more at Matlock.

His gaze wandered aimlessly across the flower beds, until one cluster of blooms of the palest pink caught his attention. They reminded him of the windblown colour in Elizabeth’s cheeks when they had been on one of their early morning walks. He had gathered red roses rather than pink that morning, to send to Elizabeth's room. It was an act of desperation on his part. He had heard they were a symbol of love and hoped she had understood the message he wanted to convey.

A knock sounded on the door and he absently called his assent. However, it was not a servant, as he had thought, but Mrs Bingley. "Have you news?" She nodded. Desperate to know the worst, he said, "Is your sister ill?"

"No, not ill exactly. Lizzy has been disturbed by a nightmare. That might sound silly to you, but it has upset her so greatly she cannot reconcile herself to it. She sincerely believes it was not a simple dream at all, but a memory; one that was lost to her following her accident in Kent."

An icy shiver crawled down his spine. It was as he had feared. Darcy had known this day might come, yet nothing could have prepared him for it. He wondered whether Elizabeth had told all to her sister. "Pray, do not trifle with me. Did Miss Bennet relate to you the substance of her dream?"

"Yes, she did, although ..." At this point, the colour that sprang onto her cheek told its own story. "It is so fantastical, I cannot believe there is any reality in it ... but Lizzy believes it."

"May I ask what she has remembered?"

Mrs Bingley lowered her eyes, indecision and embarrassment evident on her features. "Under the circumstances, I do not think telling you would help my sister's distress."

"I understand why you might think so, but I still must know." He paused, wondering how he could encourage Elizabeth’s sister to divulge the information. "Might I be allowed to venture a guess?"

She nodded dumbly, her expression showing her doubts.

Darcy waved to one of the chairs, and paused while she sat down. He, however, could not sit still and instead walked to the fireplace, resting his hand on the intricately carved marble. The chill he felt through the cold stone mirrored the feeling in his stomach. Over and over he had had countless opportunities to tell Elizabeth the truth about those missing hours at Rosings—at least the part he had been witness to—but, like a craven fellow, he had put it off, finding all manner of reasons to avoid it. He would now pay the price for his delay.

"Mr. Darcy?"

He looked down. Mrs Bingley still waited for his explanation. Her concern for her sister was clear, but Darcy now found he did not even know where to start, or what form of words to use to describe the event that had haunted not only his sleep, but too many of his waking hours.

Seeing his hesitancy, she took pity on him. "Was it a dream?"

He silently blessed her. "No, it was not."

Although his earlier words must have given her fair warning, she still seemed stunned by his declaration. She looked up at him; her faint smile at odds with the confusion he saw in her eyes. "But … but Lizzy's accident was in April."

"Yes. It is a circumstance I am unlikely to forget."

Her confusion turned briefly to anger. "Do you mean you knew how my sister was hurt? You were with her during the period of time she lost, and yet you never said anything?"

He held up his hands. "I promise you, on my honour, I have no idea how Miss Bennet was injured. She was well when I last saw her that day and I was more worried than anyone when I discovered she was missing. However, it is true to say that, for a short time during the period she was unable to remember, we met and held a ... a private conversation."

Mrs Bingley's face was a mask. For a long time she did not seem to know what to say. Darcy expected many things: anger; censure; condemnation. He did not expect the smile that slowly grew until it lit up her countenance. "You have admired my sister all this time?" she asked, her voice suffused with wonder.

Darcy could make no reply. The lump in his throat at seeing her easy acceptance of him turned him mute. However, his silence seemed to be everything Elizabeth's sister wanted. Looking down at the logs smouldering in the grate, Darcy realised it was not enough. He still had a mountain to climb, but he felt compelled to explain himself.

At least Bingley was not present to add to his misery.

He sat down in the chair next to Mrs Bingley. She exuded an air of willingness, giving Darcy the sense that she was prepared to hear him without judgement. It made him all the more determined to be completely open about the circumstances of his ill-fated proposal.

"I must explain the events of that day, although they do me no credit. Your sister did refuse my suit, most vehemently, but I deserved nothing less. I was arrogant and rude. I assumed that Miss Bennet was aware of my ... my admiration for her and I believed it was reciprocated. I thought that I had but to ask; that the honour was mine to bestow and, at the time, I felt assured my suit would be welcomed unreservedly." Darcy paused a moment. He knew that there was still more to Elizabeth's rejection than he had told.

"I always prided myself on my frankness and I assumed your sister would appreciate my honesty when I laid before her in meticulous detail how I had struggled to reconcile your family's position with that of my own."

"Oh dear," Mrs Bingley whispered.

Darcy braced himself, expecting Elizabeth's sister to express her disappointment. Her reply surprised him.

"I suspect your conversation was doomed to fail from the beginning, for I well recall Lizzy's opinion of you at that time. I do not think you could have worded your offer in any terms that would have been acceptable to her then."

Darcy smiled ruefully, remembering Elizabeth's own words. Mrs Bingley did not realise just how close she came to the truth. She obviously knew her sister well.

"I cannot say you were right to be so certain of success, Mr. Darcy, but I imagine you must have felt some disappointment."

While Darcy had long come to appreciate Mrs Bingley's better qualities, he could only admire her understanding and empathy. "Indeed, although my wounded pride would not allow it at first. I was angry, and determined to satisfy your sister's desire for solitude. Although the storm showed no signs of abating, I left Miss Bennet alone in the shelter of my aunt's folly, thinking her safe enough there, while I rode on to Rosings. Had I behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner and made sure your sister was first returned to the safety of the parsonage, she may not have suffered whatever evil befell her."

"Lizzy would never have accepted your solicitude under those circumstances. If it was the accident it appears, then you could not hold yourself to blame for what followed your ... conversation."

"Perhaps not, but I do consider myself in some measure responsible for Miss Bennet's accident, as surely as though I had struck the blow myself."

He recollected the scene like it were yesterday; riding over the park with Richard, searching for any sign of her; hearing Mr. Goodwin signalling the alarm; lifting Elizabeth's head from the ground and brushing the hair from her face; the guilt, a sharp pain stabbing at his heart as he saw the ultimate result of his overblown pride and anger. If his anguish had returned so strongly just thinking about that day, how much more might Elizabeth be suffering as she remembered his words for the first time in four months?

Mrs Bingley cleared her throat, recalling Darcy to the present. "Thank you for telling me the truth. Now I know it was not just a terrible nightmare I will better be able to help my sister."

"Mrs Bingley, you must allow me to be of service. I … I need an occupation."

"When I reveal what Lizzy wished for, I doubt you would offer your assistance so readily." She paused a moment, her sympathy clear as her eyes met his. "She has begged me to take her home."

Darcy stiffened. "Did you agree?"

"As she is my sister, my natural reaction should be to do as she asks, but my conscience forbids such action. Regardless of the strong opinions Lizzy formerly held, when I arrived in Derbyshire I knew she had fallen in love with you, and I believe you are not indifferent to Lizzy, despite her earlier rejection. She just needs to be reminded of that fact." She blushed then, as though she had said more than she had intended. "I should seek out my husband and let him know we might be returning home sooner than planned." Reassuring him with a gentle smile, Mrs Bingley left the room, abandoning Darcy to his thoughts.

How could I have been such a fool? Elizabeth must hate me. He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, thinking about Jane Bingley's calm acceptance of his tale. At least she did not condemn him for his actions. But what did Elizabeth think of him? Will she even want to speak to me again? And if she will not, how can I ever live without her?

He recalled Mrs Bingley's words. She loves you … She just needs to be reminded of that fact.

Was the solution that simple? If he reminded Elizabeth of the feelings that had grown between them, might she change her mind?

Abandoning his study, Darcy climbed the stairs, determined to do all in his power to keep Elizabeth at Pemberley.

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