Chapter Five.

The breakfast room was empty when Darcy entered. Relaxing with a cup of black coffee, he scanned the pages of the Times.

He normally enjoyed the quiet of the morning, wherever he happened to be. His aunt tended to be a late riser, and frequently had breakfast sent to her room, so Darcy had no fear of meeting her at this time of day. However, he did have a momentary feeling of unease when the door opened unexpectedly—followed by relief when Anne de Bourgh walked into the room.

Darcy stood and received her with a friendly smile. "Good morning, Cousin."

"Good morning to you," she replied in her small, quiet voice, before taking a place next to him.

"How do you do this morning, Anne?"

"Do you ask the question to be sociable, Fitzwilliam, or do you truly wish to know?"

"I wish to know how you fare today," he asked with sincere concern. "You still look pale."

"I feel much improved from yesterday. I was a little put out with both you and Richard for abandoning me to Mother during the afternoon, but I realise it could not be helped. Tell me, how does Miss Bennet this morning?"

"I do not know." Darcy had in fact been downstairs early making enquiries about the patient, asking Mrs Maltby if there was anything Miss Bennet needed to make her stay more comfortable. The housekeeper had made it clearly understood that the young lady was still sleeping, and she would not look kindly on him loitering in her corridor, getting in the way of the staff.

"Mama will not let me visit her, at least until she is sure I would not be in any danger of catching something. She is in Mrs Jenkinson's room, is she not?" Anne shot an inquisitive glance at Darcy, who nodded mutely. "I understand from Alice that you carried Miss Bennet back to the house?"

"That is correct." Darcy hoped his face suggested more calm than he felt at the repeated mention of her name. He knew his cousin possessed an observant eye—her health permitted her to do little else but watch others—and she was on friendly terms with the servants, who were all protective of her. Attempting to turn the discussion in a different direction, he asked her about a book they had spoken of the previous morning.

"I was enquiring after Miss Bennet, Fitzwilliam; do not try and change the subject."

"Do you realise how much like your Mother you sound, Anne?"

She laughed delicately at his pained expression, before lowering her voice as she leaned towards him. "I have also been informed that you wrote to your physician." She looked briefly to the door before continuing. "Will he be coming to Rosings?"

"I hope Dr. Hall will be able to attend. Why? He looked into her pale blue eyes and saw something. Hope? "Do you wish me to arrange a consultation with him for yourself?"

"I would like that very much," she replied in earnest, before pushing her half-finished breakfast away from her. It was a common worry to Darcy how little food his cousin was able to eat at each meal. "I do not know if he will be able to help me, but Dr. Chester has had no new thoughts on my health in the past five years at least. He seems so accepting of my condition, and has almost convinced Mama that we should simply yield to my fate, whatever it might be."

"I would not have you give up, Anne," he responded strongly to her resignation, putting his large hand over her own petite one as it rested on the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I will explain your situation to Dr. Hall and make sure he does not return to London until he has seen you."

Anne smiled gratefully and, with some effort, slipped her tiny hand out from under his, clasping both hands demurely in her lap.

"It is good that Mama does not take an early breakfast," she hissed at him. "Your scandalous behaviour would have us both at the church and married before either of us realised!" They both laughed at the thought. "Oh, Fitzwilliam, why did I not have a brother whom the estate could pass to? Why do I have to suffer because my parents had only one child?" She sighed deeply before looking up at him intently. "Had I a brother … I could not have wished for better than one like you."

"Beware of your wishes, Anne, you might have had a brother like Richard!" He smiled as she scowled at his tease. "You are as dear to me as Georgiana. Which reminds me of something I intended to mention before. I do not know what you wrote in your last letter to my sister, but she was giggling about it for hours after reading it."

"Dearest Georgiana! Her letters are the highlight of my week. Sometimes they are the only thing that keeps me from weeping."

Darcy was stunned by her comment and was at a loss how to respond. He knew she was unhappy, and had attempted to relieve her loneliness and isolation by suggesting a regular correspondence with his sister. His Aunt's unfortunate insistence on an alliance between the cousins had put a strain on their relationship, particularly once Darcy had come of age. Both of them had spoken of the situation many times when alone, and they made a sincere effort to show no special marks of friendship while in her mother's presence.

"Your sister's last letter mentioned the dinner you both attended at your friend's house … Mr. Bingley?" Darcy nodded in response. "She expressed some regret at having to spend time with Mr. Bingley's sisters; particularly Miss Bingley. Is his sister quite as bad as Georgiana says, or does she exaggerate?"

"No, Anne," he replied with a sigh. "Unfortunately my sister rarely exaggerates where Miss Bingley is concerned."

"I understand she follows you around like a lost pup?"

He smiled. "Who, Miss Bingley or Georgiana?"

"Oh, Fitzwilliam! You are the devil. You know I mean Miss Bingley! Do not tease me so."

He was pleased to see her delicate smile again, which lit up her small pale face. Anne had little opportunity to to be happy, and even less to keep her mind occupied, and it pleased him to see that Georgiana's letters were having the desired effect of drawing Anne's thoughts away from the austere surroundings of Rosings to more lively matters, even if she could only live them vicariously through correspondence with his sister.

They sat quietly at the table for some time, both deep in their own thoughts. Darcy then asked his cousin what her own impressions were of her mother's parson and his wife.

"Mrs Collins is a very kind and gentle lady—far too good for the odious Mr. Collins! Given time, I believe I could converse with Mrs Collins on many subjects …"—she looked up at her cousin slyly—"… but I do not believe I could have similar conversations with Miss Bennet."

"Why ever not, Anne?" Darcy was genuinely surprised. He struggled to imagine how anyone could meet Elizabeth Bennet and not be captivated. She was so lively and friendly with everyone─well almost everyone, he corrected himself. He had imagined her becoming great friends with both Anne and Georgiana once they … well, there was little point in dwelling on what was not to be. He looked up at Anne, only to find her staring at him with the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Nothing. I was … no, nothing." He sighed and attempted to regain lost ground. "Why would you not wish to speak to Miss Bennet?"

Anne de Bourgh sat quietly for a minute, her head turned away, embarrassed. Darcy was about to prompt her again when, taking a deep breath, the answer came out all at once, like a nervous avalanche of words tumbling over each other. "She is so … so lively, and confident; she makes me feel so very inadequate. I am sure she is not at all afraid of Mother. I find it so hard to speak with her." She added, in a quiet voice, "I would not wish her to dislike me."

Darcy knew his cousin was shy with others—he had only seen her truly lively in his company, and Richard's—but this was the first time she had really spoken of her shyness with him. Although she was almost twenty-four years old, he was shocked that she had even less confidence than his own sister, who was not yet sixteen.

"Do not worry, Anne. Miss Bennet has four sisters, as you know, and is used to speaking with other young ladies. I am sure you would become great friends if you could find it within yourself to visit with her. She knows no one in Kent except Mr. and Mrs Collins and their guest, and must be very much in want of company. Being a lady who is used to excellent health, it will be especially difficult for her to be ill without her family in attendance."

In fact, Darcy had spent most of the previous night dreaming of what it would be like to visit Elizabeth in her room at Rosings. In his mind, he imagined the lively conversations they would have and the books he could read to her from the library. His head was full of subjects to discuss and things he would do to entertain her during her convalescence. In his dreams, she was pleased to see him, grateful for his company and happy to listen to him as he read to her. However, during the night his dream changed and darkened, and he found himself once more at the temple in the park, enduring her glacial stares, as he was struck by the accusations she had charged him with, and the cruel rejection of his suit. You were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry … He woke with a start—his heart beating rapidly—and, after he calmed his mind and body, much of the remaining night was spent staring into the darkness. His last thought, before drifting back into dreamless sleep, had been a plaintive wish: "If only she did not dislike me so completely."

A few hours after breakfast, the physician arrived. He was shown into the library where Mr. Darcy was writing to his steward at Pemberley. Dr. Spencer Hall, with whom he had been acquainted since University, was a tall, thin gentleman, his light brown hair growing in tiny curls over his head. He was a plain speaking young man who wasted no time with pleasantries, but went straight to the point.

"I came as soon as I could, Darcy. Your note sounded urgent. How can I help?"

Darcy began to recite the story of Miss Bennet's disappearance in the park, and her subsequent discovery lying cold and wet under a tree, having obviously injured her head. He had thought of his friend at that time, not only because he was the Darcys family physician and a good friend, but also because he knew Spencer Hall had a particular interest in injuries to the head, and likely knew as much about them as anyone at the Royal College. Dr. Hall was a rarity amongst the physicians in London, having spent time in earlier years learning new skills with a surgeon in Edinburgh.

Darcy led the way as the two men went directly to the room where Miss Bennet was staying. Unexpectedly, Mrs Maltby was not hovering nearby, and he had to send a passing maid to advise her of Dr. Hall's arrival. The Doctor entered the sitting room of the suite to wait for the housekeeper, with his friend following closely. Darcy felt terrible for intruding within Miss Bennet's rooms, but could not bring himself to leave without first hearing how the patient fared. When Mrs. Maltby entered the room, he sensed her disapproval of his presence and understood that only his defence of bringing his friend to the patient was stopping him being sent away immediately by the housekeeper.

Mrs Maltby crossed the room and knocked on the bedroom door before letting herself in. The two men waited in silence for a few minutes before Mrs Collins came out to talk to Dr. Hall. If she was surprised to see Darcy with him, she made no comment of it, and she welcomed the doctor gratefully.

Mrs Collins began to relate her earlier conversation with Miss Bennet, and described her memory loss in detail. Darcy hovered, transfixed, as he listened intently to her description of everything Elizabeth could remember, and was immediately struck by the one event it appeared she could not recall. While Mrs Collins could have omitted mentioning Darcy meeting her friend in the park, nothing in her behaviour towards him gave any hint that she was withholding the knowledge. Her description of her conversation made it clear that Miss Bennet could recall nothing of her solitary walk in the grounds at all. Dr. Hall eagerly asked to be taken to the patient, and soon Darcy was left alone with only his thoughts for company.

He walked slowly back to the library to continue his correspondence, his mind in turmoil once again. He was distressed by Elizabeth's predicament, as he felt that he was at least partly to blame. What gentleman would leave a lady alone in the park and not offer to walk her back to her lodgings? His mind told him he was being ridiculous─she would have spurned any offer of the kind─but he could not stop himself from feeling responsible.

Looking out the library window, Darcy soon turned his thoughts to what effect this news might have on him. If she was unable to remember his unpropitious proposal, was there a real chance for him to mend his faults and perhaps even court her properly? He paced the room, unable to settle until he had discussed this memory loss, and its consequences, with his friend. He picked up his pen to work, but within minutes he threw it down on the desk without writing a word. How could he concentrate on estate business while his own future happiness was so uncertain?

Almost an hour passed with Fitzwilliam Darcy prowling the library like a caged animal. Neither Sterne, Defoe nor Bunyan could hold his attention, and all were read and cast away in disgust. When Dr. Hall was finally shown into the room, he pounced on him, wanting answers to his many questions.

His first was, naturally, about her missing memories. "Spencer, what would cause Miss Bennet to lose her memory?"

"There is no easy answer to that, Darcy. I have noticed this loss of memory before. It is common where someone falls from their horse or a gig, for example."

"Miss Bennet did not fall from a horse, did she?"

"No, of course not, but the injury she suffered was very similar in many ways. The dizziness and nausea; the memory loss and listlessness; these are all similar symptoms to those found when someone falls from a horse or a carriage. The brain was shaken, and this concussion causes parts of the brain to work slowly for some time after the accident. These are common symptoms; I have seen them often. In fact, her loss of memory could have been more extensive. I have seen people lose days, months, or even years of their lives from similar injuries. Miss Bennet was comparatively lucky to lose just a few hours."

"But will she recover? Will she be as she was before her accident?"

Spencer Hall smiled at the anxiety in his friend's voice, and he replied reassuringly. "If she follows my instructions, her symptoms should improve within fourteen days. She will need to stay in bed for at least a week. Her head needs time to rest with as little movement as possible. After that, she will still need to take care, and resume her normal activities slowly. Her memory will probably take longer to recover, if it comes back at all. The loss could be permanent; only time will tell." The physician looked at Darcy carefully as he asked, "Is Miss Bennet related to your family in some way?"

"No … no she is not. But I was introduced to her family while in Hertfordshire. Why?"

His friend looked thoughtful for a moment, before returning to the matter in hand. During the following hour their discussions ranged from the care Miss Bennet needed, to Anne's request for a consultation, which Dr. Hall readily agreed to. When they separated to dress for dinner, Darcy went up to his rooms where he succumbed to his valet's ministrations.

Once dressed, he found that he had twenty minutes before he was required to attend his aunt downstairs. Dropping heavily into the chair by his desk, he intended to write a short letter to Georgiana, but the preparation for that task soon brought back memories of Thursday, when he had sat in the same chair composing another letter; a letter to Miss Bennet. He bent slightly to unlock the draw where he had hidden the illicit note he had begun to write on the day of her accident.

His eyes glanced over the smooth paper, seeing the words he had written with a fresh eye. At the time, he believed that he was writing with a cool, calm demeanour, but on closer inspection, he could see that the phrases he had used were full of bitterness and disappointment.

His written explanation of the decision to separate his friend from her sister would no longer serve. He hoped that the letter he planned to send to Bingley would go some way to solving that particular problem. However, he knew he still had a long way to go, and more information to impart—particularly about Wickham—before he could fully answer the charges she lay at his door that day. Tearing the letter into small pieces, he walked across to the fireplace and threw them into the flames, where they were consumed within seconds.

Darcy still needed to answer the main questions that were playing on his mind. Was he going to let Miss Bennet return to Hertfordshire with her prejudice of him intact, or could he attempt to improve himself in her estimation; and did he wish to make that attempt?

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

Chapter Six.

Darcy watched pensively from his position at Lady Catherine's whist table, while Colonel Fitzwilliam made up a fourth with Mrs Jenkinson, Mrs Collins, and Miss Lucas. The apprehension he felt about the outcome of their conversation caused him to play poorly, and he brought down his Aunt's displeasure at his inattention a number of times during the evening. However, his cousin had found the game to be the perfect opportunity to gently quiz Mrs Collins regarding Miss Bennet's family in Town, and he was later able to give Darcy the information he needed.

After Darcy retired from his Aunt's company, he wrote a brief note to Bingley, which was passed to Marriott for immediate dispatch by courier. He did consider confessing how Miss Bingley had asked for his help at Netherfield to separate her brother from what they both considered to be an incautious alliance. However, in the end he decided to keep the letter short, and only said that Miss Elizabeth had mentioned during her stay at Rosings that her sister was staying with family, including their address on Gracechurch Street. Just enough so that, if his friend was no longer pining for Miss Bennet, then no harm was done.

Darcy had briefly thought about going to see his friend in Town to give him the directions personally, but realised that any discussion they had on the subject would only encourage questions from Bingley; questions which he was not ready to answer at this time. Moreover, even though he was unable to visit Miss Elizabeth while she recovered, he realised that he had no desire to leave her alone at Rosings.

Saturday morning saw Darcy pacing the corridor outside Miss Bennet's room with a bunch of freshly picked pale yellow daffodils in his hand. Mrs Maltby, coming from her own room, viewed his presence with a curious glance, and promptly relieved him of the flowers before politely suggesting he should leave.

"Now then, Mr. Darcy, sir, there's no reason for you to be down here. Doctor Hall has already called on Miss Bennet this morning, and he is speaking with Miss de Bough in her rooms at the moment. You should be out, getting some fresh air," she remarked pointedly, as though talking to the ten-year-old boy she remembered, rather than the man he now was.

He knew better than to argue with Mrs Maltby. She reminded him very much of Mrs. Reynolds—his housekeeper at Pemberley—and he knew how stubborn she could be when she set her mind to something. He took her advice and spent the next couple of hours exercising Caesar in the park and through the fields and lanes around Hunsford.

Returning to the house, Darcy heard raised voices coming from the sitting room and went to investigate. When he entered he found Lady Catherine holding court. Quickly scanning the room, he immediately noticed Anne cowering in the corner of the settee, being comforted by Richard. Spencer Hall stood facing Lady Catherine; his familiar lecturing stance reminiscent of their student days.

"With all due respect, Lady Catherine, the course of treatment I am suggesting is in your daughter's best interest. You have been woefully advised regarding her dystrophy and it will take many months to reverse the damage already done during her lifetime."

"And you expect me to take the word of a young man … almost a boy … over the respected decisions of my own physician of long standing?" Lady Catherine replied in an angry tone. "Doctor Chester was my husband's own physician! Do you attempt to infer that Sir Lewis would engage a doctor who was without merit?"

Dr. Hall threw his hands up into the air in exasperation. "I am sure that Dr. Chester is a fine man, but medicine is an evolving subject which needs constant study."

"Ah! So you admit, you are still learning," responded Lady Catherine with a triumphant smile.

"Madam. In our current enlightened times, no one calling himself a doctor deserves the epithet without regular attendance to new methods or treatments. I have given my diagnosis, and suggested to you a course of treatment. If you choose not to follow my advice, that is, of course, your decision, but you may condemn your daughter to an early and unnecessary death." Dr. Hall punctuated his sentence with a curt bow to Lady Catherine before storming out of the room.

After a quick glance to Fitzwilliam, who nodded his head in acknowledgement, Darcy followed his friend out into the hallway beyond. "Spencer, I am sorry for my Aunt. She is not an easy person to speak to, even at the best of times."

His friend took in a deep breath as he rubbed at his temples; trying to relieve the strain brought on by the conversation. "Darcy. I need to get back to Town. I realise that I am asking a great deal from you, but please attempt to make your Aunt see sense. If she genuinely wants Miss Anne's health to improve, the method of her care has to change."

"Tell me what is needed. I will do whatever is in my power to help my cousin."

The two men retired into the library, where Spencer Hall spent some time discussing Miss de Bourgh's health. Her life had begun inauspiciously, being born much earlier than she should have been, and decidedly smaller than average. Darcy remembered overhearing a conversation between his mother and Lady Catherine when he was younger, which suggested that the violent behaviour of Sir Lewis de Bourgh was partly responsible for Anne's early birth; although he would never admit to anyone that he was aware of the fact.

Rather than feeding the child to build her up, Anne had been classified as 'sickly' and 'fragile' by Dr. Chester, who had recommended that she should not overstrain herself and conserve her energy. A conversation between Dr. Hall and Mrs Maltby, who had held the position as Lady Catherine's ladies maid at the time of Anne's birth, had confirmed that the wet nurse employed by Sir Lewis was not in particularly good health herself, which would have had a detrimental effect on the early nutrition of the child. As she had grown older, her lack of regular fresh air and exercise had only served to weaken her further. Her health and constitution were spiralling downwards, with serious consequences.

"Darcy, I am convinced that it is Miss Anne's environment that is the main cause of her suffering, rather than any sickness or defect in herself. I will admit, though, that your cousin surprised me."

"Surprised you? How?"

"You told me that she had asked to speak to me, but when I entered her room I could hardly get a word out of her. I began to think I would be no help whatsoever. It occurred to me that she was suffering from the famous 'Darcy reserve'."

"I am sorry to say your theory is false, my friend. She does not have a drop of Darcy blood in her. It is Fitzwilliam blood we both share and you can hardly call the Fitzwilliam's reserved."

"Wrong again? Damn! I am glad we placed no wager on it this time." Both men smiled at an old joke, before Spencer Hall continued, "But after I had been in her company for almost half an hour, she gradually became accustomed to me and began to speak more. She certainly knows what she wants. Plainly put, she does not wish to spend her remaining years in illness."

"And you are sure you can help her?"

"Yes, I am positive. She needs her mother to stop treating her like an invalid, and more like the young girl she is. Exercise, such as walking, combined with the fresh air and she would get on those walks, will soon improve her appetite, and lead to a better general health and well-being."

"I believe I should pass your diagnosis and comments to my uncle. Lady Catherine will listen to her brother, even when she will heed no other."

"That might be for the best. With the changes I have suggested, there is no good reason why Miss Anne's condition will not improve. She will never be as hearty as Miss Bennet …" Spencer paused and flashed a quick grin at his friend's response to the mention of her name. "But she will be happier, and have an increased lifespan. If Miss Anne is ever in London, I will be happy to visit her again."

"Thank you, my friend. I am grateful for your help. When I return home, I believe I owe you dinner. Have a good journey back to Town!"

"I will certainly not pass up the offer of dinner at your house, Darcy, I look forward to it. Take care of Miss Bennet for me, will you?" He shouted jovially over his shoulder as he left.

"Take care of her? If I tried to she would no doubt refuse it … as she refused me," Darcy thought to himself sadly.

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

Propped up with pillows, Elizabeth was gazing longingly out of the window; a sight she had not been able to view until her eyes had become less sensitive to the daylight. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The fluffy white clouds were sculling lazily across the azure sky; a perfect spring day.

She had spent some of the morning listening to the changes of the church bells as the wind carried the peal across the park to her room. During her stay at Hunsford, she had found Mr. Collins' style of declamation from the pulpit to be tedious and unnecessarily officious, and she was ashamed to admit that she had been secretly pleased to have a good reason for missing the service this morning.

A knock on the door brought her back to attention, as Mrs Maltby appeared around the door. "Would you feel up to receiving a visitor, dear?"

Elizabeth felt a moment of panic. She knew it was not Charlotte, as she visited her regularly, without any ceremony. Could it be Lady Catherine? No, surely she would have heard her voice in the other room already. Might it be Mr. Darcy? Mrs Maltby had eventually admitted to her last night that the daffodils, which now sat in the vase by her bed, were actually sent in by him, along with his best wishes for her recovery, but she certainly did not feel in a position to receive him while she was in bed. Would he expect to be allowed to call on her in such a familiar manner just because she was a guest at Rosings?

She was about to say no, when she heard Mrs Maltby speaking encouragingly to the person on the other side of the door. "Come through dear, Miss Bennet don't bite. No need to be shy." Elizabeth's curiosity now raised, she was amazed to see Miss de Bourgh enter the room.

"I hope you do not mind my being here, Miss Bennet," she said in a quiet, timid voice, standing just inside the door.

"No, not at all!" Elizabeth responded enthusiastically, and motioned for her to sit.

The visitor hesitated before moving towards the offered chair. They sat for a few minutes in silence, before Elizabeth began to feel uncomfortable and decided she had to start some sort of conversation. She quickly cast around for ideas before a subject suggested itself. "Did you enjoy church this morning, Miss de Bourgh?"

"Quite well, thank you." She paused, as if wondering whether to continue. Eventually she added, "Mr. Collins' sermon was on a subject I have heard before … the duty of the young to respect their elders."

Elizabeth laughed delightedly, both at Miss de Bourgh's expression of disgust at her mother's parson and at the heartfelt words. She was astonished that her visitor was surprisingly eloquent when not under her mother's influence; if still a little shy. "Yes, I believe Mr. Collins is always most attentive to Lady Catherine's interests," Elizabeth replied, "and nothing makes him happier than to be able to offer her any modest service within his power." She was gratified to see a weak smile appearing on Miss de Bourgh's tiny face.

"I believe you are correct." Miss de Bourgh whispered.

Another silent pause followed, which Elizabeth finally broke by asking after her visitor's health.
"I am as well as I ever was, although, thanks to you, I now have hopes that my heath will improve over the long term."

"Whatever have I done to deserve your thanks?"

"I was able to have a consultation with Dr. Hall yesterday morning before he left. Had you not had your … er … accident, I may not have had the opportunity for a second opinion. It appears my situation is not as hopeless as I had been led to believe."

"I am very pleased to hear that," Elizabeth said politely.

This time, her visitor interrupted the silence that followed. "Would you mind very much if I came to see you again while you are here, Miss Bennet?"

"I would be most grateful if you wish to call on me again, Miss de Bourgh. You will find me at home at any time," Elizabeth added with a wry smile. "Dr. Hall instructed me to remain in bed, at least until Thursday, although I find it most tedious to remain bedridden, even in a room as fine as this one." Both ladies shared a sympathetic glance before she continued. "Once Thursday comes, however, I must return to the parsonage. I have trespassed on Lady Catherine's patience for long enough."

"Oh, Miss Bennet, please do not leave on my Mother's account," Miss de Bourgh begged, "I know Fitzwilliam would not wish for you to leave until you are completely recovered."

"I am sure that Colonel Fitzwilliam is just being kind."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam? Oh, no, I was referring to my other cousin, Mr. Darcy. His name is Fitzwilliam too …" Miss de Bourgh's explanation trailed off with an embarrassed cough, as Elizabeth felt her face grow hot when she realised her mistake. There was little that she could think of in reply to Miss de Bourgh. Fortunately, her visitor did not seem to expect a response, as she spoke further about her favourite cousins.

"Richard—I mean, Colonel Fitzwilliam—does make me laugh, and has been very protective of me since I was a small child. Cousin Darcy, on the other hand, has always been a little more serious, but he has been especially so since his father's death. Taking over the estate, at such a young age; it was a big responsibility for him."

Elizabeth noted a great deal of esteem for her cousin, but it was more akin to the affection for an older brother than the affection of a girl speaking of her betrothed. The conversation then passed onto more general subjects—in which Elizabeth felt more comfortable taking part—until it was time for her visitor to leave.

When Miss de Bourgh vacated the room, Elizabeth was left with the uncomfortable feeling that her initial impressions of the girl had been rather unfair. She had described Lady Catherine's daughter as sickly and cross, but having spoken to her properly, for the first time, she sensed a liveliness fighting to get out from under the weight of both her mother's oppressive behaviour and the illness, which had no doubt afflicted her through her life. She felt a great sympathy for the young woman and resolved to make more of an effort to get to know her better.

Later that same afternoon Elizabeth became aware of a disruption in the next room. She stifled a groan as she heard the voice that she had been dreading since waking up at Rosings.

"I still do not comprehend why my nephew brought her here. The rooms at the parsonage are perfectly adequate," Elizabeth heard Lady Catherine complain as she opened the bedroom door without knocking, and walked straight in; Mrs Maltby following closely behind. "Miss Bennet. I see you are awake."

"Yes, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth replied demurely, with her eyes purposely downcast. Her head had begun to ache again, and she was not in the mood for a lecture this afternoon.

Lady Catherine peered at her intently, before stating, "You look the same to me, except for that bruise on your head there. Are you recovered sufficiently to leave your bed?" Mrs Maltby interrupted her mistress to explain that Dr. Hall had forbidden Miss Bennet from getting out of bed until Thursday. "Seven days in bed? What does that young man know? Nothing! If Dr. Chester had attended you, I am convinced he would not have seen the need for such an extended bed-rest. My husband's physician has an excellent knowledge of all aspects of medicine, collected through many years of experience, and I doubt very much that he would have suggested such unnecessary treatment."

Elizabeth kept silent as Lady Catherine observed the room disdainfully. However, she had to bite her tongue when her visitor offered a further helpful suggestion.

"As you have such easy access to the pianoforte now, you can have no excuse for not practising. You are fortunate to be recovering in these superior accommodations so you should make the most of it while you are here. As I said last week, Miss Bennet, no one can expect to excel at anything without constant practice."

Elizabeth began to murmur a response to Lady Catherine but it was interrupted by the arrival of one of the maids, who was carrying the message that Mr. Darcy wished to speak to her Ladyship on an urgent estate matter.

Lady Catherine beamed at the news. "My nephew is so attentive. His attachment to Rosings certainly increases. He has already put off his leaving more than once. I am sure he feels more at home here now than ever before. I must attend to him immediately." She nodded briefly to Elizabeth before leaving the room to find Mr. Darcy.

Mrs Maltby returned to the room a few minutes later wearing an apologetic smile. "Miss Bennet? Are you well?"

Elizabeth returned her smile as she sighed with relief. "Yes, Mrs Maltby, there is no need to worry about me. I have a slight headache and I intend to rest my eyes for a while. I will admit that I am rather grateful Mr. Darcy needed Lady Catherine's presence at that particular moment."

"Yes, it was a coincidence, wasn't it, Miss?" replied Mrs Maltby, with an expression which, had Elizabeth been observing her carefully, would have suggested that she did not really believe in coincidence; especially where Mr. Darcy was concerned.

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

Chapter Seven.

On Monday morning, the drapes were opened to reveal a dull, grey day, with only the occasional light shower pattering gently against the large windows to break the monotony.

Elizabeth had spent another day lying in bed, staring out of the window, and she knew that she was growing fractious. She was still unable to read to herself—concentrating on the printed words made her eyes dance and her stomach churn—and she relied a considerable amount on Charlotte for company and conversation.

Miss de Bourgh also visited her again and, after offering an embarrassed apology for her mother's visit, she seemed visibly more relaxed and animated while discussing their mutual love of books and literature. Elizabeth was both surprised by her shy, tentative wit, and embarrassed by the remembrance of her own prejudices. She delighted Anne with descriptions of the walks she enjoyed around Longbourn, and her favourite walks while she stayed at the parsonage, while Anne had spoken of the correspondence she conducted with Georgiana Darcy and particularly her comments about Miss Bingley, at which Elizabeth laughed loudly. At the end of her visit, Anne promised to call again the following day, and bring with her a collection of poems she had been reading.

During the afternoon, Maria Lucas also came to call on Elizabeth, and her quiet but enthusiastic conversation and gossip from Hertfordshire kept her tolerably entertained for an hour or so, before Charlotte's sister had to return to the parsonage.

As the sky began to darken, Elizabeth resigned herself to spending the rest of the evening alone, as Lady Catherine had invited Mr and Mrs Collins and Maria to dinner that evening. Therefore, she was surprised when a knock at the door brought one of the maids with an unexpected visitor.

"Papa!"

Her father's face split into a relieved smile as he took in the sight of his daughter, propped up in bed by bolster and pillows.

"Now, now, Lizzy. What have you been doing to yourself?" he asked with mock seriousness. He sat down heavily in the chair next to her bed, taking both of her hands in his own and giving them a gentle squeeze. "I am pleased to see you well, child. After receiving Mr. Collins's letter I could not rest until I saw you with my own eyes. I came as soon as I could."

Elizabeth smiled as she acknowledged how grateful she was for his visit.

He questioned her seriously about her accident, but could illicit no further information than he had already received from Mr. and Mrs Collins, because she was unable to recall any more details than she had on Friday morning.

"Mrs Collins did mention that Mr. Darcy called for his physician from Town."

"He did, but Dr. Hall did not seem overly concerned about my loss of memory. He said it could return at any time, or not at all."

"It must be especially hard for you to be confined to your bed. You were never very good at it, even as a very young girl."

"Yes," she replied with a knowing smile. "You know me well enough to know I do not make a good patient. The views from the windows are lovely, but unchanging. I long to go outside, feel the wind on my face and hear the birds in the trees, but Dr. Hall forbids me to leave my bed for a week. I am so bored with nothing to do. Charlotte visits me when she can, but she has her own household to manage. She also has to accompany Mr. Collins on his visits to Lady Catherine.

Mr. Bennet asked her opinion about Mr Collins's patron.

"That lady, I am pleased to say, seems to ignore my presence in the house almost entirely. She came to visit me yesterday, but she remained in the room only a few minutes. I believe, however, that I can bear the loss of her company quite cheerfully. Her daughter, on the other hand, is very kind. She has visited me twice, and we have had some stimulating conversations." Elizabeth looked across to her father and noticed his tired smile and the dark shadows under his eyes. "Still, I am pleased you are here, Papa."

"I must admit that seeing you were well was only part of the inducement to come to Kent. I also had an overwhelming desire to see the opulence of Rosings Park, which Mr. Collins so ably described. His enthusiasm for his patron and her property knows no bounds."

Their conversation continued long into the evening, with news from home being exchanged for details of Elizabeth's visit with Mr. and Mrs Collins. Mr Bennet raised a surprised eyebrow while Elizabeth was discussing her walks in the grove, and how she met Mr. Darcy there on more than one occasion.

"So, do you find Mr. Darcy's demeanour to be any different here, compared to his haughty, conceited behaviour at Meryton?"

"Since the Colonel and Mr. Darcy first arrived at Rosings, they have called at the parsonage on a number of occasions, although Mr. Darcy's manner was no different from when he visited Netherfield. Colonel Fitzwilliam did comment on his cousin's laconic conversations during their visits, which suggests that, elsewhere at least, he is happy to converse with those he feels are worthy."

Thinking back on her other discussion with the Colonel, Elizabeth considered telling her father about Mr. Darcy's efforts to separate Jane from Mr. Bingley, but her thoughts were interrupted by another question from Mr. Bennet.

"Then how do you explain such condescension in sending for his own doctor? Surely that was not wholly necessary on his part? It does not quite seem to fit the actions of the disdainful man described to me by your friend Wickham when he was last at Longbourn."

"I agree, but even Mr. Wickham admitted that Mr. Darcy can be a conversable companion if he feels it worth his while, or when among those he considers to be his equal. Mr Wickham also mentioned how liberal and generous Mr. Darcy can be; with his tenants, or when donating to the poor." Elizabeth turned to look curiously at the daffodils by her bed before adding, "Mr. Darcy probably feels some misguided responsibility because my accident occurred in the grounds of his aunt's property."

With an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders Mr. Bennet then changed the subject to the brief visit he made to Gracechurch Street on his way into Kent. "It is most pleasant to see my dear Jane with a smile on her face again."

"If that is so, then I am well pleased for her myself. It would be agreeable for Jane to return home in lighter spirits than when she left."

"Well, why should she not. When we return to Longbourn I am sure she will have regular visits from her Mr. Bingley to keep her tolerably amused."

"Mr. Bingley? Papa, what do you mean?" She saw the smile lighting up her father's lined face, and knew he had been holding back this information until last, for the entertainment her surprise would afford him.

"When I called in to see your Aunt and Uncle on my way down to Kent—to let them know of your misadventure—I found Mr. Bingley sitting in their parlour drinking tea. Jane did not seem at all displeased to see him there," he replied with an innocent expression. "I would not be surprised if Mr. Bingley is already in residence at Netherfield by the time we return home.

"Oh! I long to see Jane, and hear all her news."

"Then it is lucky for you that she came with me, is it not?"

"Jane is here?"

"Yes! She is settling into your room at the parsonage. She told me to say that she will visit in the morning."

That night, Elizabeth settled down to sleep with a content smile on her face. Jane and her father were here; she no longer felt alone in Kent.

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

Jane Bennet walked out from the Parsonage early that morning to visit her sister. The spring breezes played daintily with the ribbons of her bonnet as she walked the half a mile to Rosings. She chose to reach Lizzy's room by the more modest rear entrance, to avoid the attention of Lady Catherine and her guests, and was promptly shown to the suite of rooms occupied by her sister.

"Good morning, Lizzy! Are you well this morning?"

"Jane!" Elizabeth burst into a wide smile at the entrance of her sister. "I feel better for seeing you. I am so pleased you were able to come to Kent; I am sure you have so much to tell me."

"About what?" Jane asked innocently as she removed her bonnet.

"About you and Mr. Bingley, of course!"

"Oh, Lizzy!" Jane smiled as she settled herself in the chair by the bed, making herself comfortable to tell the story. "It was so strange. On Saturday afternoon, I went to the park with Aunt Gardiner and the children. When we returned sometime later, we heard voices coming from Uncle's study. I thought no more of it—assuming the visitor to be one of Uncle's business associates—so you can imagine how surprised I was when the door opened and out walked Mr. Bingley!"

Elizabeth grinned at Jane's astonishment, and they both broke down in a fit of giggles.

"I understand from Uncle that he called soon after we left the house. As our Uncle had heard much about Mr. Bingley from Mama, he was curious as to his reason for the unexpected visit and he invited him in to wait. He told me later how friendly he thought him."

"Of course he did, Jane. Mr. Bingley is all goodness; Uncle Gardiner could not help but be impressed. But what of you? How did you feel when you saw him?"

"I knew not what to feel. I had hoped to see him during my stay in town, but after Miss Bingley's visit … well, I am sorry to say that I had given up all hope of ever seeing him again, and was quite determined to put him from my mind."

"And yet you did see him again, Jane. Did Mr. Bingley give a reason for not visiting before? Or did his sister have a change of heart, and champion your cause?"

"No, it was certainly not of Miss Bingley's doing. Actually, I believe we have Mr. Darcy to thank for his friend's attendance. Although we were unable to speak privately, Mr. Bingley did mention that he was unaware of my being in Town until he was informed of it by his friend, who in turn had the understanding from you while in Kent." Jane watched her sister as conflicting emotions flickered across her face at the mention of Mr. Darcy. "Lizzy? Is anything wrong?"

"No, no, nothing is wrong. I was only recalling the conversation we had, that is all. I remember the Colonel and Mr. Darcy called at the Parsonage on the first day of their visit to Rosings, and I mentioned to him then that you were in Town. I hardly expected him to bespeak Mr. Bingley on the strength of it."

"Well, he did, and I am grateful to him." Jane went on to talk about Mr. Bingley's subsequent visits to the Gardiner's house on Sunday and Monday, and how he had offered to accompany Jane and her father to Kent when Papa had arrived from Longbourn with news of her accident. After Mr. Bennet had politely declined the offer, Mr. Bingley had then expressed a hope of seeing them again once they were returned to Longbourn.

"Well, Jane, that does sound hopeful. It makes me even more determined to leave here as soon as I am able."

"But you must not travel until it is safe to do so. The physician would not have instructed you to remain in bed for so long if he had not been concerned by your injury." Jane looked away from her sister with a sigh. Elizabeth had never taken illness or infirmity very seriously, but if Mrs Collins's account was correct, Elizabeth's accident was more serious than any illness she had previously suffered. Eventually she asked, "Have you really forgotten everything that happened on that day?"

"Of course not," her sister snapped. "I remember having breakfast, and most of my walk with Colonel Fitzwilliam."

Jane studied her sister closely, and could see that recollecting the walk with the Colonel had somehow made Elizabeth uncomfortable. She had not yet met Colonel Fitzwilliam, although she had heard about him from Maria Lucas, and she hoped for the chance to meet him before they left Kent.

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

The library was shrouded in silence, except for the regular sound of the mantle clock marking the unceasing passage of time. Fitzwilliam Darcy sat at his desk, pen in hand, and estate maps strewn around the large mahogany top, but his focus was somewhere else entirely.

While he had tried to concentrate on the work in front of him, his mind had rebelled against boundary disputes and estate management and instead was reliving his previous meetings with Miss Bennet. Now he was aware of exactly how she felt about him, the times they had met at Netherfield, and in the surrounding neighbourhood, were remembered in a disturbing new light. He had reluctantly come to the realisation that any partiality that he thought he had seen was, regrettably, only in his imagination.

Ever since he was old enough to attend, the seasons he had endured in Town had made him acutely conscious of the way he was viewed by those mothers and daughters of the Ton who were looking for a good match. The endless balls, parties and soirées where he had been scrutinised, discussed and judged as good breeding stock had left him feeling disgusted with the whole practice. His mask of indifference had been honed to perfection at such events, to a point where he could quell the advances of many matchmaking mothers with merely a glance.

He had been introduced to more young women of a marriageable age than he could ever hope to remember, but their simpering smiles, and vapid expressions had never caught his attention. What had been so different about Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Why had he been unable to put her out of his mind after his retreat from Netherfield? Although he justified returning to town as a means to protect his friend, in his heart he knew that he had lied to himself. He had also fled from a pair of fine eyes, a lively disposition, and a woman who had intrigued him, seemingly without any effort or intention.

Darcy shook his head, to clear the fog that had addled his brains. Regardless of his feelings, Miss Bennet had made her own very clear. His mind had reflected on the manner of his proposal repeatedly since that fateful day. He had told her that he loved her, but did he really? Was this hopeless, empty feeling really love? No, he was sure of it now. Some of his words had been spoken out of pride, but not love. Others had been derived from anger, not from love. His final words were voiced with bitterness, not with love. It was obvious to him now; what he felt for her could not be love. He could never have addressed her in such a manner if he truly loved her. So what force had compelled him to ask for her hand?

He realised that it was past the time for him to return to town and put this unfortunate occurrence behind him.

He left the library and wandered up to his rooms, where he instructed his valet to pack his things ready to return to town first thing the following morning. He then went out looking for Richard, who he eventually found by the stables, laughing and joking with the stable master.

"Darcy! What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you actually."

"Why? Have you read all the books in the library already?"

"Unlike some people, I put my time to better use. Every year I have to placate Lady Catherine's tenants and neighbours, only for her to irritate and anger them again just in time for my next visit. Do you think I would prefer to solve her disputes than ride in the countryside every day, like you?"

"No. Of course not. I think you would rather loiter in corridors waiting for news of a certain lady from Hertfordshire," he replied, with an insolent grin.

"Do not be ridiculous, Richard. If you would prefer to stay here when I leave tomorrow morning, you only need to say."

His cousin looked surprised. "We are leaving then? Tomorrow?"

"Yes. I believe our return is long overdue. I have not received a letter from Georgiana in a while, and I am concerned for her. Can you be ready for an early start? I wish to be back in town for midday."

"I certainly can," the Colonel said. "I only have another week of leave left, and I would dearly like to spend it town, recovering from Aunt Catherine!"

The two men were walking through the house as they met Miss Bennet in the hallway. "Miss Bennet." Darcy greeted her formally. "May I introduce my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," she replied, with a curtsey to the Colonel. "I was hoping to meet you during my visit. I have heard a lot about you from my sister."

Darcy watched as Richard's face split into a wide grin, and he moved closer to Miss Bennet, asking her a polite question about her journey to Kent. He had seen that expression on his cousin's face before, and he knew that he needed to remove him from Miss Bennet's presence before any further damage was done. Waiting for a break in the conversation, he said, "I am afraid you will have to excuse us, Miss Bennet. Please pass on my good wishes to your sister for her continued recovery. My cousin and I have something we need to discuss … in the library."

Colonel Fitzwilliam wore a black expression as he followed his cousin into the library. "What do you mean, we have something to discuss?"

"I have seen that look in your eyes before, Richard. I am not making all this effort to reunite Bingley with Miss Bennet, only for you to interfere!"

"I realise that you felt the need to take care of your friend," the Colonel said sharply, "but now that I have met the lady who you were so intent on saving him from, I wonder why Bingley allowed himself to be saved? I would not have been so easily separated from such a beauty, regardless of how persuasive you might have been. And who were you to make that decision for him anyway?"

Darcy was incensed at his cousin's accusations, although they were, in truth, not far from the censure that he had been chiding himself with recently. He would have responded to his cousin, but his heated words died on his lips as a footman entered with a letter. Taking the envelope from the tray, he recognised the handwriting immediately. "It is from Georgiana."

"I will leave you with it then, Cousin, and I will see you tomorrow morning," Richard replied coldly as he left the room.

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

Chapter Eight.

Darcy dropped into his favourite chair with a heavy sigh and broke the seal on his sister’s letter. He was pleased to see that Georgiana had written in detail. She described her days filled with the subjects she had been studying, the piano and harp pieces that she had been practising, and the everyday gossip of London society.

He was reading the letter for a second time when the library door opened, and a footman showed Mr. Bennet into the room.

The older man appeared tired. When he saw Mr. Darcy he apologised and offered to leave him in peace, but Darcy welcomed him into the library with a stiff wave of his hand. The two men had never actually had a conversation together since their introduction in Hertfordshire, and had only been in the same room on a few occasions. Consequently, Darcy felt uneasy in Mr Bennet's presence.

"It is good to see you, sir. I am only sorry that we meet again under such circumstances."

"Mr. Darcy, I apologise for intruding on your privacy. If you would prefer me to return another time, I will be happy to do so. I have come to visit my daughter, but yesterday I made her a promise that I would read to her this afternoon and the housekeeper kindly suggested I might be able to find something suitable in this fine library." Mr. Bennet gazed around the high shelves lined with books in much the same way as a thirsty man would welcome the sight of a babbling stream. He was obviously impressed by the size of the room and the number of volumes it contained. Tipping his head slightly to one side—to better view the titles—he eagerly scanned the nearest shelves and made appreciative noises over the subjects or authors.

Seeing another man with an appreciation for literature, Darcy felt himself relax a little. It appeared they did have something in common after all. "There is no reason to leave, sir. I see you have an interest in books. This library was primarily the work of my uncle Sir Lewis de Bourgh. Unfortunately, there have been no new acquisitions since his death. My Aunt does not have quite the same enthusiasm for literature." He watched closely as Mr. Bennet continued to scan the shelves with a preoccupied air. After a few minutes of browsing, Darcy noticed that the older man looked across the room once or twice in his direction, before finally turning to face his host and drawing in a deep breath.

"Mr. Darcy, I have to thank you for the kindness you have shown to my daughter since her accident. I have heard of your condescension in helping search for Elizabeth when she was missing, and your generosity in sending for your physician from town. As you can imagine, Mr. Collins took great pains to acquaint me with your benevolence in some detail when I arrived in Kent."

It occurred to Darcy that his visitor was uncomfortable with what he obviously saw as a debt of gratitude for the care of his daughter. "Mr. Bennet, please do not make yourself uneasy. It was no trouble on my part to make sure your daughter was well cared for. I am just sorry that the accident occurred in the first place." Particularly as I might have prevented it, he thought sadly.

He was surprised to hear Mr. Bennet's low chuckle. "I am afraid my daughter is nothing like the ladies of the Ton you are no doubt used to—content to sit quietly all day—no matter what I or anyone else says. She enjoys the sights and sounds of the countryside, and enjoys her freedom too much. Elizabeth is a singular young girl … I would even say unique." The older man sighed again; a deep breath, followed by a long, slow exhalation. He turned away from Darcy, who suspected that Mr. Bennet needed the privacy to wipe a treasonous tear from the corner of his eye.

Darcy moved away from his visitor, and made a show of examining the books on a nearby shelf. While he waited, he could not stop a smile as he recalled Miss Elizabeth arriving at Netherfield to care for her sister. What did Miss Bingley call it? "A most country town indifference to decorum." She is singular indeed! He knew that Mr. Bennet was not speaking of his daughter in order to gain Darcy's attention, but only that the older man wanted somebody to talk with as he belatedly recovered from the shock of the news he had received.

Darcy was more than happy to oblige him, if it meant learning more about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

After a few minutes silence, Mr Bennet continued. "I know it is wrong for fathers to have a favourite among their children, but—God forgive me—I do. Elizabeth is the ray of light in the darkness of my existence; my dearest child. I cannot begin to contemplate what I would have done had her injuries been more severe."

"I understand your feelings perfectly," Darcy replied, briefly holding up the letter still in his hand. "I have a young sister, who is now in my care following our father's death. I simply could not imagine life without her."

"Then it appears we have more in common than I ever imagined, sir. Is your sister, by any chance, also given to taking long walks and knocking herself senseless in other people's parks?"

Darcy smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. "No, I am afraid she is no match for Miss Elizabeth on that score. She is very quiet and reserved, perhaps a little too reserved at times, but then I can only blame myself for that failing; I have been told that I do not provide the best example for her to emulate."

"Yes, well, sisters are often quieter in the presence of a much older brother; my own sister certainly was." Mr. Bennet paused in thought for a few moments before adding quietly, "Elizabeth was named after my sister."

"Would that be the lady who resides in Meryton?"

"Lord, no! Mrs Phillips is my wife's sister." Mr. Bennet exclaimed as he moved to take a chair opposite Darcy's own, and sank into it gratefully. "My youngest sister succumbed to pneumonia when she was barely sixteen years old." He let his head tip back slightly, his eyes roaming the painted ceiling as his memories returned to him. "I was responsible for her then, as both my parents had already passed. Elizabeth was born only a few months later, and was named in her memory." The older man sat, with his eyes now closed; lost in his thoughts. Darcy felt a great sadness emanating from him. Mr. Bennet's sister was almost the same age as Georgiana when she died; how would he feel if he lost Georgiana now? He knew just how he would feel. It would be ten times worse than the day he found her at Ramsgate, and that day was pure torture.

Mr. Bennet interrupted his thoughts as he continued his musings. "My daughter is very like my sister in many ways; her love of reading and walking, her quick wit and dark hair. I know not what I would do if she had … if …" The two men looked at each other and both nodded in understanding. Mr. Bennet had no need to finish his words; they both knew what was meant. After finding Miss Bennet in the grounds, Darcy recollected the agonising seconds it took to reach her lifeless form to confirm she still lived. The rush of emotions he had felt had been almost unbearable.

After a few quiescent minutes, where both men were contemplating the continued existence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Bennet broke the silence with an unexpected request.

"Mr. Darcy. You must allow me to cover any expenses incurred by my daughter's accident. I cannot ask you, someone so wholly unconnected with my family, to bear the cost of her treatment. It is my responsibility as her father."

Darcy was not surprised by his request, but he had no intention of letting Mr. Bennet pay anything towards the treatment. "I would not dream of it, sir. Dr. Hall is a long-standing acquaintance of mine, as well as my family's own physician. He was pleased to be able to help, as injuries such as the one your daughter suffered are of particular interest to him. I thank you for your offer, but I am afraid I cannot accept it."

"I believe I must insist on contributing to the expenses my daughter has incurred."

"No. It is not necessary."

Mr. Bennet grunted and left his chair to walk towards the window, where he stood gazing over the park, his hands clasped behind his back. After a few moments of silence he sighed, and said, "I have heard a great many things about you, Mr. Darcy, but I was not aware that you were so stubborn."

Darcy realised almost immediately that Mr. Bennet had intended his quip as a light-hearted way of giving ground and accepting his decision, but the words cut too close to the bone for him to accept the comment in the spirit it was given. His answer, when it came, was cold and formal. "If your information came from a particular member of his Majesty's Militia, currently stationed in Meryton, then I am amazed that he did not include my determination in his extensive list of my character defects."

Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrow; surprised by the change in Darcy's countenance and the acrimony of his response. After a short pause, his reply was cautious. "Mr. Wickham has been a busy man since you left our neighbourhood. He is a very friendly guest, who takes pleasure in making new acquaintances. I know of no family in the parish who has missed hearing his tale concerning your treatment of him."

Darcy understood that Mr. Bennet had worded his response to voice no overt acceptance of Wickham's accusations, and it gave him hope that—unlike his daughter—Mr. Bennet would be prepared to hear his side of the story. Darcy left his chair to pace the room while he considered what should be divulged. The importance of this conversation was not lost on him, as it gave him a chance to put a spoke in Wickham's wheel. After all, he would be relaying nothing to Mr. Bennet, which he had not already been prepared to divulge to his daughter in his aborted letter, less than a week earlier.

Clearing his throat, he looked up at Mr Bennet, who was watching him carefully, apparently unconcerned by the silence filling the room. Turning to focus his eyes on the books in front of him, Darcy began his explanation.

"I was given to understand, from a comment made by your daughter during her stay here, that Mr. Wickham may have provided her with an inaccurate account of his previous connection with my family; an account which does no credit to my family name."

Mr Bennet nodded slowly, but made no reply.

Darcy knew he was taking a risk with what he was about to say. Dare he repeat the accusations she had made on the day of her accident? Would Mr. Bennet question his daughter regarding the comments attributed to her? Moreover, what would she say if she could not remember making those comments? Thinking quickly, he said, "I believe Mr. Wickham has made suggestions that I have withheld something which would have been to his advantage and was the cause of his current reduced financial state. Would that be correct?"

"Yes, I believe that sums up the gentleman's accusations, as far as I am aware."

"Although I am not at liberty to divulge all of my dealings with Mr. Wickham, I am certainly prepared to explain the actions I took as one of the executors of my father's will." He paused a moment, his attention now focussed on the older man. "As you can probably understand, Mr. Bennet, this is not easy for me. I am unaccustomed to having to explain myself to anybody, for any reason."

"I appreciate your candour, sir."

Resting his hand on the back of a chair, Darcy nodded. "Very well. My father, who died about five years ago, left Mr. Wickham a legacy of one thousand pounds, and recommended me to assist him in his advancement as well as I could. If Mr. Wickham chose to take orders, I also had instructions to present him with a valuable family living at Kympton as soon as it became available."

Darcy moved to a side table that held a decanter and glasses. He poured a drink for himself and another for Mr. Bennet. Silently passing a glass over to his visitor, who nodded in acknowledgement, he continued. "Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that he had resolved against taking orders. I will admit to some relief when I heard his decision. I had the opportunity of seeing his iniquitous behaviour during unguarded moments throughout our childhood, and at Cambridge, and I knew that he was particularly unsuited to that profession, if you understand my meaning. In recompense for the living, he requested a sum of three thousand pounds, with which he said he intended to study the law. Acceding to his request, I rather wished, than believed him to be sincere; but, regardless, the business was settled and all connection between us appeared to be dissolved.

"For three years I heard nothing from him, until he contacted me again when the living next became vacant. As his financial circumstances were particularly bad - something I had no trouble believing - he declared himself ready to apply for ordination, and suggested that I present him with the living. He had apparently found the law to be a most unprofitable study, and I can only guess the kind of life he led in Town which had caused him to spend four thousand pounds in so short a time. Naturally, his resentment of my refusal was bitter.

"Our paths crossed again last year, at which time he tried a different venture to gain funds. I will not relate to you exactly what happened, except to say that it involved a young lady of good birth. He was fortunately unsuccessful in his revenge, which naturally served to increase his enmity even further."

Mr. Bennet remained wrapped in an absorbed silence as he listened to Darcy's tale.

"To be honest, the good opinion of the people in your neighbourhood is not of particular importance to me, but I do not wish for anybody be taken in by Wickham's honourable appearance, for that is all he has … the appearance of honour. Only when he has left a parish do his debts, and other sins, become known. I would regret it deeply if anyone of my acquaintance in Hertfordshire suffered as a result of my silence."

The older man sat quietly for a moment before responding calmly to Darcy's defence. He was circumspect in his response to the story, and appeared to be weighing the facts on both sides as he had heard them, which, under the circumstances, was all Darcy could hope for. Mr. Bennet thanked his host for the warning, and assured him that it would be taken into consideration when he returned home, which would probably be on Thursday.

Darcy expressed surprise that Miss Bennet would leave Kent so soon after her accident, and suggested in the strongest terms that the Bennets should delay their return home until her strength had returned, but Mr. Bennet would not be swayed. "If Elizabeth wishes to return home, then we will return home."

Darcy strode across the room to his desk, where he reached for paper and pen and wrote a short note. Returning to Mr. Bennet, he handed the paper to him saying, "Please, if she insists on leaving so soon, you should take these directions. If Miss Bennet feels any ill effects of the journey to town, Dr. Hall can be reached here."

Mr Bennet looked at the young man intently for a moment, and then down at the address in front of him, before uttering a simple, "Thank you."

An awkward silence followed, which was interrupted after a few minutes by an exclamation from the older man. "A book! I still need to find something to read to Elizabeth." Mr. Bennet moved back to the shelves he had been studying earlier. He took one of the volumes down and examined it, opening the cover and scanning the first few pages. Turning to Darcy, he asked, "Is this a first edition?"

Darcy moved closer, to better see the title. "Yes. I was told that my Uncle had quite a sense of humour in his younger years. He most likely picked that up from an estate sale in town. Does Miss Elizabeth enjoy Mr. Goldsmith's work?"

"She reads a great many things, but I think that this afternoon she will probably need a little humour to lighten her mood." With that, he thanked Mr. Darcy for his time and attention. On hearing that Darcy planned to leave the following morning, he expressed his hope for a good journey before shaking his hand in farewell.

Once he was again on his own, Darcy sat wondering, for the first time, what had provoked him into such a confession of his private affairs to a man he barely knew. He reached for his book, and turned the pages idly until he had almost reached the back page. He stared at the open book for some time, a thoughtful smile on his face. Any doubts he might have had in the prudence of his actions were swept away by the small hope growing in his heart that Elizabeth Bennet might eventually hear his side of the story and be in some measure protected from any more of Wickham's lies.

And if it causes her to think better of me, even just a little, it will be well worth it!

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