Darcy had spent a good many hours searching the West India Docks and had found not a trace of Mr. Wickham's movements. The time was growing late so he thought it best to proceed back to the other side of16 the river where, he acknowledged, his best chances for success lay. When his carriage slowed it was rushed upon by the eager boys. As Darcy got out, they all started shouting to him at once. "Whoa, hold on! It is impossible for me to understand you. I shall take you one at a time," and he pointed his walking stick to the left for the farthest child to begin, listening with care to each of their stories and interjecting a question now and then. While several did speak of men that could have been Mr. Wickham, each story had a futile end. Just when he believed he had heard from all the boys, the smallest child of the group was pushed forward, for he had been overlooked in the excitement.

 

Darcy kindly looked down upon him and asked to hear what he had learned. The boy was quite frightened, for never before had he been in the presence of such a gentleman. He spoke solemnly as his dirty face peered up to Darcy. But what the boy had to say immediately caught his attention. As the other children were dispatched with a farthing each, given by the driver, Darcy was led a short way to the river by the small boy. There, the boy pointed excitedly to a large passenger ship. There was much activity here; Darcy concluded the ship was preparing to depart soon. Along the dock were stacked any assortment of crates and barrels full of every kind of provision necessary for a lengthy ocean voyage. They were being ferried over to the ship in a continuous stream. Darcy found that he had stopped next to several crates of squawking chickens and immediately moved away. He watched the child approach a dockworker, pulling on his sleeve to gain his attention. The man was in fact a sailor on the ship and was led back to Darcy.

 

After repeating what he knew and answering some specific questions, the tale he wove confirmed to Darcy that he should next speak to the captain of the ship, who was identified as one of the men seated in a small vessel currently crossing the river. Darcy once more showed his gratitude by reaching into his pocket and procuring a coin. A gapped-toothed smile was returned in appreciation as the coin disappeared into the sailor's pocket with some speed. When the boat reached the dock, Darcy saw that the captain had the careworn face of a man who had spent his life out in the elements. He imagined him to have battled gales and endured arctic temperatures as well as the tropical heat of the South Seas. He appeared to be in something of a rush when Darcy stepped forward and blocked his path.

 

"Excuse me, sir. Might I have a minute of your time, please?" And with that, the two men entered into a conversation that enlightened and satisfied Darcy immensely. Certain facts were made known to the captain, who readily agreed to help the well-spoken gentleman before him. His business for the day finished, Darcy turned towards his carriage but paused as he spied the small boy standing off to the side. Motioning for the boy to come to him, he reached into his pocket. The only coins he had left were of a much greater value than was necessary to give to the child, but so pleased was he with this turn of luck that he placed a sixpence in his palm. The child's mouth flew open with surprise at his benefactor's largesse; he glanced up briefly while closing his hand tightly around the coin and running off to disappear amongst the crates, barrels and wagons in search of his friends. As his carriage pulled away Darcy leaned back into the comfortable seat. He knew the ship that Wickham had booked passage on was to sail with the tide the next day, but it was highly unlikely that Wickham would now be on it.

 

The Bennets had been anticipating the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Wickham for the entire afternoon. Mrs. Bennet was in a high state of anxiety and her family found it impossible to share the same room with her and difficult to even be within the confines of the same house. Mr. Bennet was fortunate to have his study to use as a retreat, but for his daughters there was no such escape. Jane, Mary and Kitty all sat and listened to her ramblings. Jane, with some astuteness, had wisely advised Mr. Bingley not to call Longbourn today. When the afternoon had worn on to the point that the light was about to fade and they thought they might never receive the happy couple, the crunch of wheels rolling upon gravel was heard. The approach of the carriage was confirmed and everyone rushed from the house to stand expectantly in the drive. Lydia's profile was visible from the window but she had not turned to greet them with her usual exuberance. A man set a step for them to climb down and Lydia was first out to be greeted warmly by her mother, who in her excitement, failed to notice the downcast mood of her daughter.

 

Ignorant of the new misfortune that had befallen their family, she scurried up to Lydia and cried, "Oh, there she is! And how beautiful you are, Mrs. Wickham!" She smiled to her other daughters to show her approval and then gave her youngest daughter a big hug. "But where is my son-in-law? I must give him my congratulations." She began to look past Lydia to locate her husband, as had all the other Bennets. By now Jane had spotted Elizabeth alone in the carriage. She spoke for everyone when she asked simply, "But where is Mr. Wickham?" Kitty and Mary peeked inside and saw that the carriage was indeed empty, save for their sister; no other had travelled with them. Mr. Bennet displayed a look of annoyance with the entire affair and replied, "Indeed, Jane, I do believe that is the question of the day." All eyes turned toward Lydia, who burst into tears and fled inside the house. This left Elizabeth alone to face the family with the explanation they all awaited. Watching all of this from the interior of the carriage made Elizabeth wish vainly she might stay in the compartment indefinitely. She was greatly tempted to instruct the driver to just keep going, preferably all the way back to London. With a powerful reluctance she climbed out and looked around at her family. Their faces wore an assortment of emotions: confusion; disbelief; worry and wonder. She had received no welcome at all from any them for it was not she they had expected. Everyone stood waiting for another to begin when Mrs. Bennet turned to her daughter and allowed her emotions to spill over.

 

"Lizzy, Lizzy! What has happened? Where is Mr. Wickham?" her mother trilled. "Oh, Lord, I fear the worst. Where is Mr. Wickham?"

 

And as she attempted to gain some relief by fanning herself with her hankie, she began to whimper. "Mrs. Bennet," her husband said rather sharply. "Please! Let us go inside." He wanted no scenes acted out in front of the servants that might be repeated with loose tongues.

 

He continued to his daughter, "Lizzy, am I correct in assuming that Mr. Wickham has not travelled with you today?" When he saw her nod her head he told her, "Very well, perhaps you would like to come into the study." Mr. Bennet took his wife, who was now sobbing quite openly, by the arm and led her into the house as he felt certain she was about to collapse onto the drive. Jane quickly went to Elizabeth's side, while Mary and Kitty joined Lydia upstairs.

 

"Lizzy, please tell me the worst has not happened." Jane appealed to her. "Oh Jane," came her rushed whisper, "it is true! Lydia and Mr. Wickham are not married, for he disappeared two days ago." They had reached the study door and Elizabeth gave Jane a rather pained look before she repaired to the room to face her parents. "Close the door, please," her father instructed as she entered his sanctuary. Her mother was sitting over in the corner, sobbing rather sedately. "Now, Lizzy, sit down." Without further delay he instructed her, "Please tell your Mother and I exactly what has happened and leave out no details." "I have a letter here from Uncle Gardiner, if you would like to read it." She pulled the sealed correspondence out of her pocket and passed it to him. "Thank you, I will read it later, but now I would like to hear from you." Looking across his desk, she studied her father's tired features. It was with a heavy heart that she broke the news. "Well, father," she began with a deep breath and thus unfolded all the details of the last days, from Mr. Wickham's last visit to Gracechurch Street to her concerns which then led to the discovery of his disappearance up to and including his absence at the church today.

 

She was left to tell her tale uninterrupted although Mrs. Bennet would let loose with intermittent wails, varying their pitch higher and lower, softer and louder, depending on which particularly dreadful part was revealed. Sensibly, Elizabeth chose to leave out of her narrative the part about her taking ill and falling asleep in Fitzwilliam's arms as they lay together on his sofa. "So, the unthinkable has happened. Mr. Wickham has tipped his hand and it is now certain he never had designs to marry Lydia." Mrs. Bennet did not try to contain her emotions. From her corner she lamented over the fate of her daughter, meted out liberal invectives against the fugitive Wickham, and complained of her own mistreatment and suffering throughout this ordeal. First addressing his wife, Mr. Bennet declared, "Mrs. Bennet, I daresay your babbling is nothing but useless racket. Quiet Madam!"

 

She looked a bit like a naughty child, but her husband's admonishment had the desired effect; it did quiet her down somewhat. "Lizzy," he turned his attention to his daughter, "there are three things I wish to put to you, and you may answer them in any particular order. Firstly, what is being done now to find Mr. Wickham? Secondly, why was I not informed when his disappearance was exposed? And, finally, how has Mr. Darcy come to be involved in this matter?" "Papa," she looked to her father for some moments as she formed answers to his first two questions. "I believe that my aunt and uncle did not want to give you the occasion for any further grief should Mr. Wickham have appeared at the church today. There was some small chance that he might have been there." Before Elizabeth could continue, her mother interrupted. "Oh, I knew we should have never allowed Edward to handle this. Look what has become of it all. Mr. Wickham has gone. Lydia is not married. Our family is disgraced. But who will find him now? And fight him to make him marry her? Whatever shall we do?" She returned to her wailing.

 

"Mrs. Bennet!" her husband scolded her again, "I am afraid that you will have to leave if you cannot contain yourself." Elizabeth turned to see her mother hiccupping as she tried to calm down. As she returned her gaze to her father, she saw him looking expectantly at her to continue. She was slightly embarrassed with her next admission. "I am sorry to tell you that I am not certain what is being done now to find Mr. Wickham. I know that my aunt and uncle discussed this with Mr. Darcy but I know not what plans had been formulated. When the news was broken to Lydia that Mr. Wickham had failed to arrive at the church, she insisted on leaving for Longbourn immediately. I admit in my rush to pack I neglected to inquire," she finished lamely. Offering up no further narrative, she waited in silence for a response from him. Her father peered over the top of his spectacles at her with a stern look upon his face. Elizabeth was unsure if any of his displeasure was directed at her. "And...?" he prodded as if he held a large stick. "And...?" She was quite sure of his meaning but had held out some hope he might have forgot the last point he had raised. She was trying to avoid the topic of Fitzwilliam with her parents.

 

"Mr. Darcy, Lizzy." "Oh, Mr. Darcy." She blushed somewhat as his name escaped from her lips and averted her eyes to avoid her father's scrutiny. "Well, um, I am unsure of this also. Although, from Jane's letter, I know that Mr. Darcy was here at Longbourn the day Mr. Collins called. According to Jane, Mr. Collins was quite zealous in relating the events about Lydia to Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. Perhaps we should call for Jane to explain." She began to rise when her father told her, "Stay where you are. That will not be necessary." Mr. Bennet offered up suggestion. "Perhaps some speculation on your part will produce a theory for us." "Oh well, maybe Mr. Darcy felt he had some knowledge about Mr. Wickham that would assist in locating him." "I fail to see why Mr. Darcy should inconvenience himself in our family business, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said. "Do you?" "Papa, he grew up with Mr. Wickham. Perhaps he felt some sort of, oh, responsibility for the man's actions," Lizzy suggested. Doubt spread across Mr. Bennet's face at this idea. He arched his eyebrows and inclined his head towards her. He looked as if he was waiting for her to carry on. Lizzy sat across from her father, looking at him before admitting, "Papa, it was actually Mr. Darcy who located Mr. Wickham and Lydia in London." "Mr. Darcy!" her mother shouted from over in her corner. "Is this true, Lizzy? That horrible man was responsible for locating my daughter?"

 

Mrs. Bennet came over to where Lizzy sat and glared down at her. Once again a rosy hue flourished across Elizabeth's face; this time she was unable to hide it. She could barely manage to reply with a simple, "Yes," to her mother's question. Elizabeth was reluctant to discuss Fitzwilliam with her parents, she believed her feelings for the man would be easily read were they to enter into a discussion of his character; she knew that this was neither the time nor the place for any such discovery. "I find this entire situation unacceptable!" continued Mrs. Bennet, who seemed to lose any appreciation she might have with her role in the current matter, which was none. The part she had played for the previous sixteen years was never examined; her extreme deficiency in recognising her own ill-judged indulgence of her daughter was a point never raised in her own conscience. "And I agree with your father. I see no reason why that terrible man, so full of pride, should have any concern for our family's trouble." Mrs. Bennet was fanning again.

 

This time the hankie was aimed at her bosom. "Mrs. Bennet, I have not slandered the man. I am simply at a loss to see why he would make our business his." He was staring quite frankly at Elizabeth now. "You need not voice what we already know. Mr. Darcy is an awful, arrogant man." Caught up in the moment, Elizabeth rose from her chair, compelled to defend the man she loved. She blurted out, "Fitzwilliam is not a terrible man. Why he took the best care of me when I was ill." She abruptly shut her mouth when she realized what she said and sank back into her seat. Her colour grew a deeper shade of red that matched the roses on her mother's favourite bush. Elizabeth believed that there had never been a silence as heavy as that in her father's study at this moment. Her mother's eyes were glazed over; her fanning had been abandoned entirely as she now swayed back and forth in the manner of one who might faint. "Mrs. Bennet, please return to your corner before you collapse. I would hate to have the floorboards damaged." With the spell broken, she once again focused on Elizabeth but before she could speak, her husband said, "I for one would be most interested to hear you expand upon your last statement Lizzy. Proceed."

 

She watched her mother return to her seat and, with a squeak as she settled down, she dared a glance at her father. He was sitting back in his chair, fingers of both hands resting against each other and a direct gaze levelled at her. Resting upstairs, resting upstairs, UPSTAIRS! Elizabeth was petrified she might say something that would be less than well received by her parents. And his name is Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy! "With all that happened yesterday," she paused, considering that it had only been but one day ago, "I allowed the strain of events to get the better of me. We had returned to Mr. Darcy's home to discuss what action might be taken when I became so ill it was necessary for me to be taken to room upstairs. Aunt Gardiner sat with me and later Mr. Darcy's own physician came and examined me. At his recommendation, I was left to rest there until the morning." Mr. Bennet looked to be absorbed in her story; his faced showed not disapproval but something that bordered on amusement. "And pray, Elizabeth, you are well now?" His voice lacked a serious degree of concern. "Thank you, yes I am." "I would hope that the amenities of Mr. Darcy's home met with your approval?" "Certainly, sir." "And, as you stated, Mr. Darcy behaved most suitably and saw to whatever you required in your recovery? "Indeed he did."

 

She looked up then and seemed to not see her parents but to look past them, perhaps all the way to London, as she spoke with some emotion, "He is a decent and honourable man who has done us a great kindness in helping with Mr. Wickham." Elizabeth was unexpectedly touched by the sadness she carried with her from quitting London prematurely. She reached in her pocket for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. She then spoke to her parents in a very subdued voice. They had to strain to hear, for she was looking down into her lap. "He is the very best of men." Elizabeth then begged to be excused and left the study. Mr. Bennet responded dryly, "Well, it certainly looks as if more has happened in London than we anticipated." Darcy wasted no time reaching Gracechurch Street. When he discovered that Mr. Gardiner was at his warehouses he decided to hasten there without delay to speak with him. He was quite impressed with Mr. Gardiner's business, for it was a vast enterprise. Were the circumstances for his visit anything other than the distasteful affair at hand, he would have requested a tour of the facilities.

 

He put to Mr. Gardiner what he had learned during the day and they once again discussed how best to proceed. It was during this conversation that Mr. Darcy learned that which gave him considerable pain; Elizabeth had returned to Longbourn with her sister. He did his best to hide his disappointment, although he succeeded poorly. It was clear he was crestfallen, although he made a valiant attempt to hide it. Mr. Gardiner made no comment, although he felt deeply for the young man. They agreed upon a course of action and Darcy bade Mr. Gardiner farewell. That night, Elizabeth and Jane had a long, sisterly talk that allowed both young women to catch up on all that had happened over these many weeks, for letters can only convey so much. Both had missed these talks; Elizabeth found that the hours passed with Jane, sharing confidences and secrets, did much to restore her natural spirit. She cautiously kept some particulars about Fitzwilliam to herself, although Jane was left in no doubt about her sister's changed partiality for Mr. Bingley's best friend. The young ladies talked until the early hours of the morning and had only just extinguished their candles when there was a loud knock upon the door. The entire household was roused, finding at the front door an express from London. As Mary held a candle close, Mr. Bennet opened it; many pairs of eyes were upon him, anticipating news they were sure would be about a certain missing fianc?s. Bennet held her dear child close, Mr. Bennet looked upon her and announced, "Lydia, it looks as if you will be returning to London tomorrow to attend your wedding. And this time, I will be travelling with you."

 

 

There had been no explanations in the express from Mr. Gardiner; those at Longbourn knew not whether Mr. Wickham had been found. The hurried message from London requested that Lydia return there without delay as it was expected that the ceremony would take place the next day. In fact Mr. Gardiner and Darcy could not be certain that it would occur, but if all went well and Wickham was successfully apprehended, they did not want any hindrance to interfere with the wedding. Therefore the slightly premature express had been sent, without a hint to the recipient that the outcome might not be favourable. It also stated that the Wickhams would be travelling north immediately after the ceremony and no visits to Longbourn could be enjoyed. Word had come through to Darcy from the agent with whom Wickham's commission had been purchased that it was still intact. The sooner he was safely with his regiment the better for all concerned. Back in London Mr. Gardiner had crossed his fingers, hoping the plans they had discussed would succeed and this business would once and for all be put behind everyone. While he was keen to assist his family in any way he could, his patience with the disruption of his household from the high drama and frayed emotions was wearing thin. Darcy had an entirely different agenda. Not only did he refuse to consider failure in the apprehension of Wickham, he was at a point he believed himself capable of almost anything to unsure such an outcome. His goal was to gather up all the loose ends concerning this mess with him, tie it into a neat bundle and send him and his bride off to the North. After the newlyweds were gone, his attention could be fully directed to his own life, his own happiness. And that of Elizabeth's. He eagerly awaited her return to London the next day with her sister.

 

When all had retired once more in the Bennet household, Elizabeth found she could not sleep. After the express had been read, she and Jane had whispered back and forth in the hall before they went into their own rooms. As she lay in the dark, her thoughts chased her. They were exclusively of Fitzwilliam. Because he had captured her heart, she now knew what it was to love. The joy this brought her was indescribably wonderful. With each thought of Fitzwilliam, her heart soared. It was a physical reaction; she could feel it surge through her as she laid her hand upon her chest. And yet, for all the joy that was to be found, there was equal misery. Being apart from him was a torture Elizabeth had not expected it to strike so brutally. Indeed, my longing for him weakens me. She wondered if this new kind of hurt was something that he too experienced. The ache in her heart was only getting stronger with each passing hour. As Elizabeth lay in bed and was initiated to the emotional extremes of love, she wondered how joy and misery could both dwell simultaneously in the recesses of her heart. She sighed as no answer came forth. Perhaps another evening like last night would help me unravel it all. She focused on their time alone in his study. Visualizing his strong hands and the safety they expressed through his touch made her sigh once again. When his arms were around her in a protective embrace, she believed that he could keep her safe from any threat that might appear. She lifted her fingers to her lips as she remembered the way her skin shivered when Fitzwilliam had just barely brushed his lips against hers. Tossing and turning, what came to her mind was beyond her power to stop. For Fitzwilliam had awakened other sensations within her. As Elizabeth remembered his light touch down the length of her arms or his warm breath falling on the curve of her neck, she found herself in the grips of desire. And when he had displayed more ardour with his kisses, stirrings she had never known before threatened to render her wonderfully helpless. The combination of it all overtook her, much like the heat emanating from a roaring bonfire. It could only be described as feverish.

 

She had only one thought. I want more. But, it led to another. And I want him. Abruptly Elizabeth wondered, Is this love? Perhaps it was the evil she had heard of so often at Sunday sermons. Her imagination paired her with other young men of her acquaintance: the parson's son; the new solicitor in Meryton; officers from the regiment recently departed and even Colonel Fitzwilliam. Relief spread through her when they all displeased her in the extreme. I am not prone to becoming a licentious woman! While she had never expected this to be the case, confirmation of the improbability of such a transformation was welcomed in the darkness of her room. The idea of anyone other than Fitzwilliam caressing her was revolting. She wanted only his whispered adorations and sweet kisses. She had assured herself that her thoughts were of a woman in love. They were not sinful nor unusual, though perhaps brazen when one was not secured to the gentleman in question. I could be more than secured now had I accepted him at Hunsford. I could be Mrs. Darcy. I could very well be sharing the same bedchamber with him at this precise moment.

 

Mercy! These particulars occupied her mind for a long stretch of time. Possibilities of what it would lead to, when occupying a darkened bedchamber with a most agreeably pursuant Fitzwilliam, came forth in a muddled procession. Oh my, my, my! In fact, Elizabeth knew only enough to take her to a certain point; from there onwards, all she might envision was no more than the vivid ideas of an innocent young woman. But her imagination had always contained an adventurous twist. Had Darcy been privy to her estimation of what might occur between them, he would judge that the woman had a propensity to concoct some highly unusual, but terribly agreeable, scenarios. As she tried again to fall asleep, she was abruptly jolted fully awake from a thought that had come forward from the recesses of her mind. She sat upright. "Hunsford!" It sounded quite loud in contrast to the quiet that encompassed the sleeping household. Staring out into the darkness, with her mouth open in shock, she repeated the word in a whisper this time. "Hunsford." She threw back the covers and went to the window. With the light of a half moon shining across her face, realization dawned with an assured clarity. The garden of Longbourn was bathed in lunar light; the heavy, fragrant perfume of the night blooming jasmine floated up to her.

 

Breathing in the heady scent, she recalled the evening that was only the night before, when she sat in Fitzwilliam's study. He had been pacing, slightly nervous, looking at her peculiarly. The pacing, the pacing. I know what it reminded me of! It was exactly as he had looked and acted at Hunsford. Before he had proposed. Elizabeth tried to recall what he had done last night, but she had been so tired. He had sat next to her and drew her close. Then he had her rest against him while he held her hand and they had been talking and, that was it. She could remember no more. I fell asleep. Oh no, oh no! I only hope he wasn't going to propose again! Surely I could not have been so unlucky! She stopped and made herself amend that thought. I hope he was going to propose again but didn't when he saw I was asleep. The last thing she concluded, before she went back to bed, she believed was vital to her future. I must get back to London.

 

The next morning saw a calm settled over the household, even with the prospect of Lydia leaving and probably not returning to Longbourn for a very long time. Mrs. Bennet was weepy and sad, no longer upset with Lydia, but now mourning the departure of her youngest and dearest. Mr. Bennet had been prepared to leave when the sun had just risen, but out of consideration for the rest of the family, he left them to share one last breakfast together before Lydia departed. He chose to wait in the garden and admire the riotous mixture of flowers along the far garden wall.

 

"Papa?" He was started out of his reflections by the sound of his daughter's voice. He turned to Elizabeth and smiled meaningfully. "Well Lizzy, it looks as if I will pick up matters where you left off yesterday." "It does appear that way. Let us hope that by the end of this day Lydia will be Mrs. Wickham." "Let us hope indeed, Lizzy. But what a resolution to desire. I can find no peace in the knowledge that one of my daughters will be bound to such a man." He sighed and began to take a turn around the plum trees. As Elizabeth fell into step with him, she suggested optimistically, "Perhaps he will prove to be a much better husband than he is a suitor." He looked to his daughter, whom he knew to be wiser than many and judged she could not truly believe her charitable suggestion. "Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honour lies." ** Lizzy smiled as her father quoted one of his favourite poets. She stole a look at his profile and, before she lost her nerve, raised the subject she had come to discuss. "Would you like some company in London? I am not averse to travelling with you. Surely you do not want to make the trip alone?" Mr. Bennet stopped and turned to face her. "Lizzy my dear, I fear I am an old man." He held up his hand when she attempted to argue. "No, please, let me continue uninterrupted. The point I am about to make is, while I may be aging even more rapidly than I had ever expected, I am not blind yet. I can see with clarity that something more has occurred during your stay in London. Would you like to tell me about it?" "I would surely tell you anything Papa. But, in fact I have nothing to tell." Elizabeth doubted her father would believe this. She was correct. "Well, it cannot be ignored that you have become friends with Mr. Darcy. And that you hold him in high regard." "Indeed, I do." "You would have me believe that there is no more to it than that?" She nodded her head. "Remember, I am not your mother.

 

She took away nothing more from that discussion in my study than the facts about Lydia. By her estimation, Mr. Darcy is nothing more than the same vain, arrogant man she chooses to dislike. One who cares not for anyone's opinion but his own. A man who believes, as a result of his wealth and position, he is above all others." As he spoke Elizabeth became indignant again. Her reaction was that which Mr. Bennet had expected. She had fallen straight into his trap. As he continued she became ensnared. "He is simply the man who slighted her daughter at an assembly when he haughtily---" "That is enough Papa!" she broke in with more emotion than was necessary. As she looked up to him, the twinkle in her father's eye revealed his ploy. With a sigh she said, "Oh Papa, I still can tell you no more. I do hold him in the highest esteem. He has helped our family with Lydia much more than he need ever have done." "Exactly Lizzy! Now, why do you suppose that is?" His question hung in the air. He regarded her frankly until she broke his gaze to stare down and the wild violets long the pathway. Mr. Bennet continued, "Well, perhaps while I am in London I will ask him." Elizabeth looked up quite startled. "What do you expect him to say in reply?" She merely shook her head but was clearly unnerved. "So, shall I come with you?" she put forth hopefully. "Not this time my dear. But, never fear. I will make inquiries as to the health of a certain gentleman on your behalf. In fact, I look forward to a nice long chat with our Mr. Darcy. Perhaps when I come back, I can give you some answers to these bothersome questions."

 

Elizabeth spied Lydia standing close to the carriage as the trunks were being loaded. Regardless of all that had passed between them in London, she could not let her leave without speaking to her. She called to her and they found a secluded spot where they were unobserved. As they sat, Elizabeth began, "Lydia, it is very cool this morning. Where is your shawl?" Her sister made no reply. "Lydia, please tell me what you are thinking?" "Lizzy, how can I marry Mr. Wickham?" she looked dejectedly at Elizabeth. "I cannot believe that he loves me any longer. Perhaps he never did." Lydia was completely disillusioned. "Lydia," Elizabeth began to lecture her and then stopped. It crossed her mind what was in store for her in the future. She correctly guessed that soon enough Lydia would be faced with some harsh realities about Mr. Wickham. She saw no point in putting any further pain upon her sister. They had to marry; no other outcome was possible. So instead, she tried to cheer her on her wedding day, this of all days that was supposed to be special.

 

"I cannot believe that Mr. Wickham did not love you. Why would he have asked you to elope? Nor do I believe that he may have fallen out of love with you. Would you like me to tell you what I think? I believe that he got a big case of nerves. It is called "pre-wedding jitters', and I would venture, he was affected quite severely to have gone to such an extreme and leave his intended bride." She smiled at Lydia to see how she was taking all of this. She seemed to be listening so Elizabeth continued. "No doubt when you see him today, he will be full of apologies and begging your forgiveness. My advice is, don't give in too quickly and make him understand that he cannot behave in such a way. Let him give you an ample apology and then forgive him and enjoy your wedding." "Do you really think so Lizzy?" she asked, regaining a bit of her natural energy. After a moment's consideration, she said to her sister, "Lizzy, I am sorry if I have behaved badly. I did not wish to. And I do not want to go away knowing you are angry with me." Elizabeth put her arm around Lydia's shoulder and squeezed her tightly. "Lydia, no one is angry with you. We all want to see you happy. And I truly wish you joy." Lydia took hold of her sister's hand and gave it a robust squeeze. "I wish you were coming Lizzy. I would dearly love for you to be at my wedding."

 

Elizabeth thought she detected some tears threatening to spill out of Lydia's eyes. It only served to weaken her already shaky frame of mind, so with a quick kiss to Lydia's cheek, she said her farewells and hurried inside. The carriage was packed and Mr. Bennet was waiting beside it, looking about for his daughter so they might depart without further delay. All her sisters waved Lydia goodbye while Mrs. Bennet sniffled into her handkerchief. As she watched the carriage pull away, Elizabeth caught the unreadable look of her father as he found her framed in the upstairs window. Soon after the carriage had slipped past the end of the drive, Mr. Bingley called and partook of morning tea with the women.

 

Elizabeth had not yet had the opportunity of congratulating her future brother and did so with genuine delight. She was pleased to watch Jane in his company now; the certainty of their feelings made it possible for each of them to openly express their devotion. No one who might observe them together could doubt that they were destined to be happy. The engaged couple rose from the table to take a walk, for Mr. Bingley had to return to London this very day and it would be their last time together until next week when Mrs. Bennet and Jane would be going to London, at Mr. Bingley's particular invitation, to shop for Jane's wedding trousseau.

 

Darcy had concealed himself behind a large pile of crates, just off of the pier used for access to ferry passengers over to the ship. He was early, but it had been necessary to confirm the particulars with the captain, who had arranged for several good and able men to assist Darcy with his subterfuge. In his idleness, he began to think about Elizabeth. She was, he assumed, waiting at the Gardiner's home with the rest of her family. He was edgy and anxious to have this wedding ceremony over, so he might finally be able to speak to her privately. It had to be today. His business at Pemberley had become urgent and it was to take him there as soon as this matter with Wickham was resolved. If all went to plan, he would leave this very afternoon. Why is there always an obstacle placed before me when it comes to proposing to Elizabeth? He glanced at his pocket watch as he counted down the minutes until he might be with her. Good God! It has only been a day since I saw her. And yet, it was as if years had passed from the last time he had looked upon her mesmerizing eyes and her radiant smile.

 

He remembered how it felt to have the weight of her body against him as they lay on the sofa. Oh, the sweetness of the moment when he held her delicate hand in his. For Darcy, things could not be worse. Before all that had happened with Elizabeth, he would have believed that to hold and caress her would have left him satisfied and peaceful during the interludes they were apart. But he had come to realise it was a curse, only to torment him to new heights of suffering. It was no longer only his imagination; he knew what it was to feel an intimacy with her as he enfolded her in his arms and held her close. He wanted to immerse himself in her and know her in every way possible. It was too much to bear. As he thought of her, in all the ways he knew her and those he yet had to experience, he felt a warmth spreading through his body. It was not from the temperature outside. Lord, if I cannot secure her hand today, I think I will go quite mad. He hoped against hope that she would agree to his proposal this time. And even more so, as he considered his current state from simply thinking of her, he desperately wished she would prefer a short engagement. Very short.

 

It was these heated thoughts, sometimes almost physically painful, that Darcy was reflecting upon when he was suddenly brought back to the present. His eyes narrowed and all the emotional and physical turmoil that churned within him now was directed to the image of the man he had been waiting for. Wickham had stepped from a carriage and was dressed in all his finery. He supervised his trunks and bags being deposited upon the wharf and acted the part of the true gentleman to all that helped him. With a leisurely step, he strolled around giving a look to the bustle and energy of the river. Darcy confirmed to those he was in confidence with, giving a slight nod, that this was indeed their man. No one yet made a move, as it had been prearranged for the captain to intervene.

 

They had not long to wait for as Wickham paid the carriage driver, the captain ambled towards him. "Mr. Wickham, sir, I see you have found us, and in good time," Darcy heard him begin. But no sooner had those words left the captain's mouth than did a half a dozen massive, muscled sailors lunge onto the gentleman and subdue him. Wickham managed to stay on his feet and, as he was a clever man, made no move to struggle when he realized there was no chance of escape. Immediately he looked around to find the man he was certain must be responsible for his capture. He spotted Mr. Darcy striding towards him with a venomous look upon his face. Wickham glanced to the ground, for he knew what fate would surely befall him; marriage to Miss Lydia Bennet. But he was only partially right, for Darcy had something else in mind for him. "Wickham, you.....," and Darcy rolled off a particularly foul phrase that he had once heard at a carriage stop. All the sailors smiled approvingly, for this was in fact the kind of language they would have chosen under such circumstances, or most any circumstance. "Well, Darcy, I see that it is impossible to avoid you when you are determined. So, I await my fate. Take me to the church for I know that is where I am headed." "Oh no sir, it will not be that easy for you," was his menacing reply to Wickham. He looked to the captain. "Let him go, if you please, for I am going to give this man a chance to flee, and if he can escape me, then he shall have his choice of what he prefers to do, marry his intended or sail to America." The captain motioned to the sailors to let the man loose, and although reluctant, they let go of their hold upon him. But they still surrounded Wickham, as they really had no intention of letting him go anywhere. But Wickham made no move to run, for he felt it a trick. "I said "Go' Wickham," Darcy practically snarled at him, "and I meant it. Run, now you rotten piece of work."

 

When still he would not move, one of the sailors lifted his boot and gave him a swift push on the backside. This sent Wickham straight towards Darcy, which was exactly what Darcy had wanted. With a tight, solid fist and a will like he had never known before, he connected to the scoundrel's chin in one swift blow. "That was for my sister," he growled as the jolt sent Wickham backwards. The brawny arms of a couple of sailors caught Wickham but pushed him forward again at just the right moment, for Darcy had pulled his fist back and announced, "And this is for Miss Lydia Bennet," whilst hitting him across his cheek and landing a blow hard on his nose. Wickham could not retain his balance and sprawled onto the wooden planks of the pier. The sailors nodded amongst themselves, approving highly of Darcy's actions. He rubbed his hand unconsciously as he studied Wickham, who was reduced to a heap upon the ground. Still feeling a seething anger within him, Darcy watched as blood oozed from an open gash across Wickham's cheek and dripped from his nose.

 

"Now sir, what say you? The church or America?" "The church, Darcy, the church," Wickham was heard to mumble. "Excellent. Here man," and Darcy offered his hand and pulled Wickham up and then passed over his handkerchief to him, for Darcy was in fact a gentleman through and through. The sailors quickly regained their hold upon Wickham and hustled him over to Darcy's carriage with no pretence of gentleness. There, Darcy had arranged for two burly men to accompany them on the ride back to the church, for he and Mr. Gardiner had arranged that the ceremony would take place without any delay. After thanking the captain, Darcy wasted no time in hurrying back across the river.

 

The gentlemen did not speak during the ride, as each had much to consume his thoughts. Darcy was actually preoccupied with the idea of his sudden turn towards physical violence. He had no remorse; Wickham deserved far worse than he had given him. But he was not a man to resort to this method. Darcy questioned what it was that had pushed him to act as he had. As the carriage pulled up to Gracechurch Street, Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet came rushing down the steps to meet it.

 

Darcy opened the door and spoke with them only enough to confirm that Wickham was now ready and willing to participate in the wedding ceremony. With that, Darcy glanced to the house, willing Elizabeth's face to appear in one of the windows. But, as they drove off to the church, all he saw was the gentlemen hurrying back inside. Finally, Darcy looked upon Wickham and decided to satisfy his curiosity. "I know the current state of your finances. I have seen a summation of the debts you left in Meryton. Where did you get the money to finance a trip to America?" "I got lucky and had a big night at the tables," his eyes twinkled in recollection. "I made the right bets at the right times. It happens," Wickham shrugged. He exhibited no signs of shame for his actions. At this point Darcy believed the man before him to be completely void of a conscience. He could barely contain his distaste. When he addressed Wickham again it was to deliver an ultimatum. "Let me be very clear with you. I will be watching you. I intend to make it my business to know what you are doing and how you are treating your wife. It would be my greatest pleasure to see you fail in any respect for it would allow me to finish what I started today." "Indeed Darcy. I do not know what got into you. Lowering yourself to the level of the common man with your actions at the dock. It was, dare I say, rather primal. I wonder, how your upper class acquaintances would view your display?"

 

He was sneering at his former boyhood companion, not at all concerning with common courtesy. "I believe they would agree that there are times when men must bring themselves down to the level of the scum they are forced to deal with, for, in certain situations, it is the only way to achieve one's goals." Darcy cast him a cold, steady stare and held it until Wickham looked away. They sat in silence for the rest of the trip. When the church was in sight, he suggested that Wickham might like to go inside and find a room where he could freshen up in. Darcy lingered only long enough to insure that the escorts he had engaged would remain just outside the church, although at a spot that was not so noticeable. Then he climbed the steps and went to find Wickham. It was not but a few minutes later that the rest of the small wedding party arrived. Their footsteps echoed through the church as they approached the waiting gentlemen. Darcy turned towards the sound, eager to see Elizabeth. His eyes glanced over each person in the party, and, and as disappointment began to overtake his anticipation, Darcy's appearance grew grim and gloomy. No one noticed his state though, for all had their attention focused on Wickham.

 

There were audible gasps when they drew close, for his face wore the full burden of the morning's activity. An open cut on his cheek and an obviously swollen and discoloured nose made speaking of the cause of his injuries unnecessary. A few random drops of blood that had landed upon his stark white linen shirt further accented his dishevelled appearance. Darcy pulled himself out of his sadness enough to alleviate the moment by addressing Lydia. "Miss Bennet, may I say that I have not seen a more beautiful bride. I wish you joy today." She smiled in thanks to Mr. Darcy and then stared daggers to her husband-to-be. Wickham made a request, "Might I have a moment to speak with Lydia before the ceremony?" When there were no objections, he led her to the far side of the church where a discussion of about five minutes took place. Lydia's shrill voice was unmistakable although what words she chose to impart to her beloved were a mystery to all but her intended.

 

Darcy lost himself in his thoughts while they waited and dismal they were. He was barely aware when the couple returned to the group and proceeded through a very quick ceremony. He only focused his full attention back onto the events unfolding in the church when Wickham gave his bride his arm to lead her towards the door. Mr. Bennet turned to Darcy and offered his hand. "Thank you sir. I know not the full extent of you part in all of this, but I am aware that I am greatly indebted to you," and with that he shook Darcy's hand but quickly noticed an acute wince upon his face. Mr. Bennet looked down to see the grazed and bruised knuckles of the gentleman. He released his grasp and apologised. The encounter had not passed Mrs. Gardiner's notice and she too saw the injuries Darcy had acquired. "Please, will you not come back home with us? I fear you need to have your hand attended to." "Indeed sir, if you can spare the time I would value the chance to have a few words with you," Mr. Bennet added cryptically. Certainly, the dangling incentive of visiting with the father of the woman he loved was enough to insure there was no chance he would refuse such an offer.

 

**Alexander Pope, English poet and critic (1688 - 1744), from Essay on Man (ep. IV, l. 193).

 

 

Darcy had held out some slim hope that Elizabeth had chosen to wait at her relatives' home instead of attending the wedding ceremony with the rest of her relations. He knew it was a pitiable position to take, yet until they returned he could still hold some small hope that he might see her. Too soon he had to accept that which was clear; Elizabeth had not travelled to London.
As Mrs. Gardiner sent Mr. Wickham off with a servant to have his face tended to, his new wife was upstairs changing into her travelling clothes. She took it upon herself to see to Mr. Darcy and was very careful to hold his hand quite gently. As she worked, she was thanked for her effort.

"Mr. Darcy, you need not thank me. Your benevolence is something that could never be repaid. But rest assured, the heartfelt gratitude we have for your efforts today will never fade." His answer was no more than a modest nod and she ventured a closer look at the gentleman. She judged that he would appreciate what she next said. "Elizabeth was very disappointed that she was unable to say goodbye to you and your sister before she returned to Longbourn. I am afraid it was not possible for her to do so as they left rather suddenly." She lowered her voice as she spoke, "Lydia insisted upon returning home yesterday and Lizzy felt she could not refuse her sister's request." Then she resumed her normal tone, "She very much wanted me to express her appreciation for your kind attention to her while she was ill."

 

Darcy fidgeted in his seat. He focused on Mrs. Gardiner's ministrations to his hand. There was no desire on his part to draw
attention to his role in this affair. But, more than that, merely hearing Elizabeth's name brought his emotions to the surface. A casual observer would not notice the changes that such remarks had upon the gentleman, but Mrs. Gardiner was specifically looking for signs from him. She saw quite clearly that a softer expression had crossed his face when her niece's name was mentioned. With it also mingled something more. It appeared he was experiencing some discomfort. She could not be sure, perhaps she was being too rough with his hand. Or possibly the absence of my niece is testing the man's disposition today.

He did respond to her mention of Elizabeth, but it was a subdued and careful reply. "My sister was disappointed to hear of..." and here he stumbled over Elizabeth's name, "...Miss Bennet's return home. She has especially enjoyed making her acquaintance and hopes that it may continue." "I have no doubt that the sentiment is mutual, sir." A daring comment rolled off of Mrs. Gardiner's lips before she let any second thoughts intrude. "Despite the unpleasant business that brought her London, I believe that much good came of her time here, for not only was Elizabeth able to enjoy the company of Miss Darcy, she was able to
appreciate the exceptional qualities in her brother." She scrutinized the bandage on his hand one last time. Just then Mr. Gardiner interrupted them and Mr. Darcy was rescued from trying to form a response to such a statement. The newlyweds were
ready to depart; their journey was a long one and Wickham had been made to understand could not be delayed.

Their send-off was somewhat restrained. The Gardiners were torn between pitying their niece, who was being led away to a precarious future, and sighing with great relief to at last have their household return to its familiar routine. Mr. Bennet saw his daughter's marriage as the beginning of a new life for her that was sure to be filled with no small amount of discourse and unhappiness. Regardless of the headstrong and impetuous nature of his daughter, he would forever look upon her fate as his failure. Each time Darcy's gaze rested on the newlyweds he pictured Georgiana in Lydia's place. He could only thank providence that he had been able to intervene before she had fallen victim to Wickham.

But, despite what each was thinking about Lydia and her impulsive behaviour, all were of the opinion that marriage to Wickham was a harsh lot in life for the young girl. "Goodbye Mrs. Wickham, I wish you a safe journey north." Mr. Darcy was
the first to address Lydia by her new name. As he did, he pressed into her hand a cloth bag, tied closed with a satin cord.
Its heaviness weighed in her hand, and as she lifted it up to examine the gift, coins jingled together inside. Lydia's eyes brightened. "A small gift for the new Mrs. Wickham," he said making reference to the amount Wickham had paid for passage to America. The captain had returned it to Darcy. "This is for you; I would hope that you spend this money only on yourself." A grand smile appeared upon Lydia's face, indicated those were her thoughts exactly. Darcy did not speak to Wickham but farewelled him with a stern look.

Mr. Bennet gave his daughter a final kiss as she climbed into the carriage and, with a last look at the assembled group on the steps of Gracechurch Street, the Wickhams were carried away into the traffic. Mrs. Gardiner invited Darcy to return inside and join them for tea before his departure. Mr. Bennet looked expectantly for him to precede him inside while Mr. Gardiner simply looked hungry. Once they were settled and served, she took the opportunity to call her husband away on the pretext of some domestic matter. Mr. Gardiner was not of a mind to leave his plate of savouries and cup of tea. After looking to his wife and back to his plate, he quickly gulped down half his cup and popped two delicacies in his mouth before excusing himself.
This left Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy to themselves. Darcy had settled in his mind what subject Mr. Bennet would be likely to introduce, and, discovered he was correct when the gentleman spoke. "I fear sir, you have put yourself in a dangerous position today. You might have been in some peril. Am I correct in assuming your injuries are not of a serious nature?"

Gesturing with his hand, he answered with a modest smile. "It is nothing more than some scratching and bruising. I assume that most labourers sustain similar injuries quite regularly and think little of it."

"Please Mr. Darcy, I would appreciate an honest reply. Did Mr. Wickham attempt to evade you? Was a physical confrontation the only means to succeed in having him fulfil his obligation?" Avoiding an immediate response, Darcy turned away. His pensive
demeanour suggested that he wanted to answer carefully. "Perhaps not," Mr. Bennet at last heard him say. In a level voice without emotion, Darcy admitted, "My behaviour this morning is in need of analysis sir. When he was at last before me, I could have easily bundled him into my carriage with the encouragement of a few strong men. He had given up.

And yet, Darcy explored his actions once again, "I did not allow it. I drove him to into the position whereby I could justify brutality."

Both men were silent for sometime. Lost in thought, Darcy raked the back of his uninjured hand across his mouth before he uttered his next statement. "But, what is possibly even more worrisome was the satisfaction I received from it. Even now, I feel no remorse. I believe I would do it again." He looked to Mr. Bennet and wondered, "Is this a hatred, pure and wicked, that I have let loose?" "I have been told you grew up with Mr. Wickham; you were boyhood friends at your family's estate. Your characters have taken vastly different turns in life. Could it be that you feel betrayed by his rejection of what you both were taught to be a moral and upright way of living?" As Darcy examined his injured hand, Mr. Bennet added, " It was once said, hatreds are the cinders of affection." "To be sure, whatever friendship existed between us has long since vanished. And yet, that is no excuse to take my fist and strike him in the face. Twice." He accented his statement by swinging his bandaged
hand just as he had earlier.

"None of us are perfect, sir. And, what would life be like to live it amongst perfection? Somewhat dreary and predictable I would say. Do not criticize yourself too severely. You are human! You feel Mr. Darcy! And, when you acted upon those feelings today, the outburst lead to a passionate display. My advice, if I may offer it, is to learn what you might from this and use the knowledge to continue to live an honourable life."

 

He closed his eyes, trying to recall a favourite passage. When they looked upon Darcy again, they shone in merriment behind his spectacles. "'We are ne'er like angels till our passion dies.'" ** Mr. Bennet watched Darcy digest the meaning of his quote.
"But surely, one must be able to control one's passions." "Ah, sir, now you veer slightly off onto another topic," he noted.
"Passions! What man has not been affected by his passions? And not paid the consequence in one manner or another?" Mr. Bennet paused, only long enough to give Darcy a confidential nod. "We all fall to our passions at one time or another. It is our fate. And sometimes, it is also our pleasure."

Mr. Bennet had led Darcy's thoughts to Elizabeth. As he sat there delving into some very pleasurable passions that had everything to do with his daughter, Darcy was overcome with guilt. He looked up and saw Mr. Bennet studying him.
"Which reminds me," Elizabeth's father continued, "I am meant to pass along regards and inquire after the state of your health on behalf of one of my daughters. Forgive me, for with all that has happened, I quite forgot. I'm afraid my mind is not what it once was," he suggested none too believably. As if they both didn't know exactly whom they were speaking of, Darcy politely enquired, "Indeed sir, which daughter might that be?" Mr. Bennet merely smiled before he continued on. "In fact, I have
heard a rather astonishing tale about the other night."

 

Darcy sat stark still waiting to see where the man went with his narrative. Parts of this topic were strictly taboo. "It seems that my daughter, and in fact her mother and myself as well, are greatly indebted to you for more of your kindness. I have been
informed that you saw to Elizabeth when she fell ill." "Well, umm,....I personally did not,....that is to say,...I only insured she was looked after with the best possible care.....by my personal physician. You are not indebted to me. I was glad to offer
any assistance that I could. I trust Miss Bennet is fully recovered?" "Oh indeed sir, she is as lively and challenging as she ever was." "Well, you must thank her for asking after me." After he sat quietly for a moment, Darcy ventured to add, "And please, express my pleasure in hearing she is well." The expression the gentleman wore was priceless.

 

He had the characteristics of an abandoned puppy with his downcast and cheerless face. It was all Mr. Bennet could do to keep from first, chuckling, and second, suggesting he make a visit to Longbourn. Of course, he did neither. It is up to Mr. Darcy to pursue his future. If he had any particular reason for wanting to go to Longbourn, he would have to initiate it on his own.

With that, Mr. Bennet switched the subject, hoping to catch the gentleman off guard. "Sir, you have gone to great lengths to assist with this business. You have given much of your time to the task. I would again like to say that you have my utmost appreciation." Mr. Bennet noticed he still looked ill at ease. This amused him somewhat, for he found this inconsistent with a man of his position. Darcy did feel uncomfortable. He wanted no recognition for the part he had played. He was grateful that Mr. Bennet seemed unaware of the monetary aspect of it all. That, to his way of thinking, would only make matters worse.

"I have done no more or less than anyone else would do in a similar situation. Mr. Bennet, had I not been so concerned with my own position and how it might appear to others....," and here he stopped and began again to avoid any mention of Wickham's dealings with his sister. "I ought to have done the right thing when first I saw Wickham in Meryton, and by this I mean exposing what I knew of his true character, for your daughter might never have been involved with him. The responsibility is mine and I accept it fully."

 

His true belief in this was emphasized with the conviction by which he spoke. Mr. Bennet thought this way of thinking a bit harsh and continued his observation of gentleman as he posed a question, "There is no other reason sir, for your intervention, other than your perceived responsibility?" Darcy looked up abruptly. Mr. Bennet was smiling at him with all the
appearance of the cat that got the cream. He hastily regained his composure and responded, "Certainly not sir. I was only too glad to be of some help."

But the strangely awkward attitude of Darcy told him something quite different. Answers to some of those nagging questions Mr. Bennet had been discussing with his daughter only this morning were emerging by the young man's responses to his questions. Darcy took his leave soon after this and Mr. Bennet was left with the company of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Mr. Bennet was not altogether displeased with their chat. He was beginning to wonder of all that he had heard of Mr. Darcy from his time in Hertfordshire, for the description presented to him did not fit the man that had sat before him.

He observed this over another cup of tea. "That was the first opportunity I have had to speak more than a passing word of greeting to the gentleman. I must say I had been prejudiced against the man from remarks made about him. He doesn't seem to be at all what I supposed." He paused and looked directly to the Gardiners. "There is one point however, with which I believe he was not completely honest." "Pray, what might that be?" Mrs. Gardiner requested. "He would have me believe that his only motivation for supplying his help with Lydia and Wickham was knowledge of Wickham's character and the fact that he withheld the information. He felt the responsibility." He looked to Edward Gardiner, "Did he tell you this also? Yes? Well, I have the distinct impression that there is some other incentive behind all of this." He looked to them both awaiting their response.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner glanced at each other and the back to Mr. Bennet. "Actually," Mr. Gardiner began, "we have formed the opinion that Mr. Darcy has a very strong attachment to Elizabeth." "And," Mrs. Gardiner continued, "unless Edward and I are very much mistaken, we believe that Lizzy has come to regard him quite highly as well." Keenly eying them both, Mr. Bennet blurted out, "Passions!" It was all that he said, but he repeated it several times as he tapped his fingertips together. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were at a loss to understand his meaning and he offered no explanation.

 

Darcy sat in his study with his eyes closed, shoes off, feet up and a broadsheet across his lap. He balanced a large brandy, cupped in his unhurt hand. It was his second of the night, for he had found it difficult to unwind from the day's events. They had been somewhat unprecedented. With his chat over tea, it had left it until too late for him to depart for Pemberley; he had delayed his returnuntil early the next morning. A hesitant knock on the door told him that Georgiana was there and he
immediately brightened. "Come in, please," he called. His sister entered and settled across from him, sinking into the comfortable leather of a deep sofa. She smiled but did not speak. Darcy now lightly rubbed his sore hand, bandaged with care by

 

Mrs. Gardiner. His sister's eyes fell upon it and she gave him a questioning look. "I told you I did not wish to talk of it Georgiana," he said gently to her. Then he noticed a resigned kind of sigh escape from her and he realised that he had spent little time with his sister these last weeks. For that he felt at fault. "Would you not reconsider travelling with me tomorrow? I have not had the opportunity to see much of you lately and we might enjoy some time together at Pemberley. I plan to inspect quite a good portion of the property next week. You could ride with me." She shook her head. "No, thank you." His look dimmed somewhat and she hastily added, "I would dearly love to spend time with you Fitzwilliam, but I do not wish to make such a trip again so soon. You will come back though, won't you, before too long?" He could not answer that with any certainty. His life was in turmoil and he was determined to sort it out. "I will endeavour to spend time each day writing to you until I might return."

A caller had arrived and as a livered servant appeared in the doorway, bearing a silver tray and a calling card, in charged Charles Bingley before he could be properly announced. His face was beaming and his mood was bright. "Lord Darcy! You look like my grandfather propped up there! Hello Georgiana," he said as he went over and gallantly kissed her hand, whereby the girl blushed at the attention. He then stood in the middle of the room and openly surveyed them both. "It seems that I came at just the right moment. The mood in here is dismal. I consider it my duty to liven you up."

"Congratulations Charles, Miss Bennet has told me about your engagement." Darcy had jumped up and quickly extended his hand, forgetting about his injury. "I am very happy for you," at which point Charles grasped his hand and then immediately let it go. "What in the world has happened?" he queried to his friend looking at his well-bandaged hand. "Do you not know about the dangers involved with placing your hand under moving carriage wheels?" "You needn't bother to ask him, Mr. Bingley, for he is secretive about it," Georgiana courageously interjected. She gave her brother a look that was meant for him alone. "Perhaps he will enlighten you when I am gone." And she rose to leave but added before she left, "I too would like to congratulate you on your engagement Mr. Bingley." Here she hesitated before adding quickly, "While I have not had the pleasure of making Miss Jane Bennet's acquaintance, I do very much like her sister, Miss Elizabeth." She then smiled at the two gentlemen and left the room.

Darcy had plopped back down into his seat and motioned for Charles to find a spot. "Well, you do surprise me for I had thought you would be too pleasantly occupied in Hertfordshire to come into the City." "I would not have come if I did not have business to be attended to with some urgency." Charles was still intrigued by Darcy's injury. "But, I would dearly like to know the story behind your hand." So, the business with Wickham was related to him. Charles had known part of it, of course, but the stratagem from this side of things was definitely more fascinating. He would have found the story about fighting him impossible to believe had he not the evidence here before him. It was most uncharacteristic of Darcy, especially as it seemed to be unprovoked.

Charles always enjoyed a good story and was quite caught up in Darcy's narrative. "Lord, so you punched him twice? Humm, that is amazing. Oh, how I wish I might have seen it." He mulled over a thought or two of the event and then said, "But it is very unlike you, man." Darcy set down his empty glass and looked to his friend. "I am well aware of that, for it was on my mind almost immediately afterwards. I have tried to put it down to an unusual reaction to an unusual set of circumstances." A recollection made him add, "Passions!" "I beg your pardon?" "Perhaps I was slain by my passions," Darcy said almost to himself. He passed his glass over for a refill. "Are they off north now then?" Charles referred to the newly married couple.

 

He poured generous helpings of Darcy's brandy for them both. "Yes, they departed almost immediately after the ceremony." Darcy chuckled slightly, "You should have seen Wickham!" He gestured with the injured hand, "Big cut across his face and a huge swollen nose. He was a sight for his own wedding." Darcy's face darkened and he told Charles, "I made it very clear to him that should he step out of line in any way, he could expect to see me again." "You do mean your fist, don't you?" Charles joked, and then more seriously he said, "Darcy, the man will be my brother-in-law very soon. You must realise that I have a responsibility in all this. More so than you. That is of course, unless there might be some news which you have not told me."
With an eyebrow arched skyward, Darcy looked to his friend without replying. "Well, you did have an opportunity to see Miss Elizabeth while she was here, didn't you? Georgiana obviously has met her, hasn't she?" Charles questioned him with some impatience. He waited but no response came from his friend. Finally he blurted out, "Speak man or I might punch you myself!"
"Yes, I did have the pleasure of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's company on several occasions." He searched for what he wanted to say. He could tell him about the carriage, the walk in the park, or the time in the Gardiner's study. "Am I correct in assuming that you are now on better terms?" Charles probed. "Indeed, we got along rather well, if I do say so," Darcy replied as a smile curved at the edge of his mouth. "Unless I am very much mistaken, her opinion of me has improved of late." "Very good man," his friend replied. "And? May I be so bold as to...?" Bingley began, but then stopped for he did not want to overstep their friendship. He merely bestowed a look to his friend intimating the gist of his query. "I know what you mean to ask Charles," Darcy sighed.

 

He flexed his fingers gingerly and pointed to his empty glass. One more might be in order the way this conversation was going.
Charles refilled both glass and sat silently watching his friend, who was obviously struggling with some inner conflict. After some moments, Darcy said, "We actually got along better than I could have ever imagined. I felt confident enough to put to her
another offer of marriage." He stopped then to look at his friend. Charles had taken on a very anxious expression, for he felt certain that Darcy was not now engaged. He expected to hear the worst. Darcy watched him squirming, and when he felt his anticipation had reached its height he said, "But she fell asleep in the middle of it and didn't hear me!"

Charles expression didn't change. He still looked anxious. Then he gave Darcy a look of incredulity. Surely I heard wrong.
As a smile began to form and his amusement grew, Darcy was asked, "Am I to believe this? Fitzwilliam Darcy proposes marriage to the beautiful Miss Elizabeth only to have her fall asleep on him?" Laughter was only a moment away now when he said merrily, "Oh, this is fantastic! This is hilarious!" He could not contain himself. "Lord Darcy! Remind me never to ask you for instruction regarding the fairer sex." Peels of laughter came from Charles now at the expense of his friend. In fact, Darcy knew this is how his friend would respond and he did not really mind. He needed some cheering up with all that had been happening. The mood needed to be lightened and Charles had done that. He even smiled slightly at the idea of it all. It was impossible for Charles to take a drink of his brandy; he simply could not manage it, as he was unable to contain his laughter. Finally, he asked Darcy to enlighten him as to how she could have possibly fallen asleep. Thus, the story of Elizabeth's illness was related.

Charles forced himself to calm down and when he was finally able to speak he demanded a promise. "Give me your word Darcy!"
"And what might you like me to guarantee?" "Promise me that you will marry Miss Elizabeth, for this story is so priceless that I must be able to retell it for many years to come." And with that he began laughing all over again. I am working on it Charles, thought Darcy. With a passion.

** Thomas Dekker, The Honest Whore (pt. II, act I, sc. 2)

 

 

As a rule, this time of year brought days that were transitional, wavering between the loftiness of high summer and brisk reminders of an unavoidable retreat into autumn. In Hertfordshire, or more particularly, at Longbourn, one glorious day had followed another. Each had been brimming bright and fair, ideal for long walks and time out of doors without hinting of the cooler days to come. Always one to appreciate the splendour of nature, Elizabeth did her best to enjoy these golden days. There had been excursions to Meryton with her sisters and solitary rambles through the countryside. But, despite the grand display of sunshine that reappeared each morning, there was an element missing for her. She was unable to fully enjoy them, for she was reminded almost every minute of a void that could only be filled by the presence of one special person. Fitzwilliam.
With no certainty of when she might again see him, life was bittersweet and the sting of their separation dulled the thrill of
remembering their time together in London.

 

Mr. Bennet had remained silent about his short trip to the City. No amount of effort, devious or direct, could extract intelligence regarding Darcy. Elizabeth was under the impression that her father secretly enjoyed her attempts to obtain information from him. While she left in frustration after each effort, he appeared spirited and jovial. Elizabeth knew that Jane too, was pining for Mr. Bingley to some extent, although she would be seeing him in London in a few days time. Long talks with her about the wedding and all that had to be planned was the only thing that let Elizabeth's thoughts wander to pleasant diversion.

So it was one afternoon that the sisters were up in Jane's room thus engaged in discussing yet again their different ideas for Jane's wedding dress. Elizabeth was of a mind that it should be trimmed in fine lace while Jane had a preference for a skilfully embroidered bodice. Both agreed that simplicity in design was paramount, and to that end they knew that there could be some disharmony with their mother.

"Lizzy, if only you were able to go with us!" Jane began. "Not only could you help me to stand up for my ideas about the wedding, but surely you would see Mr. Darcy if you were in London." Elizabeth was stretched across Jane's bed and she was fiddling with
fringe of her sister's favourite coverlet. She chose her words very deliberately. "Perhaps Jane, the regard that I witnessed in Mr. Darcy was no more than what my mind invented. Perhaps my head was led by my heart." She could not look up at her sister for she was afraid to see agreement upon her face. Elizabeth did pose a pivotal question. "Do you not think, that if he felt as I perceived, we might have welcomed him to Longbourn by now?"

Jane did not hesitate with her reply. "Lizzy, there could be no poorer person to ask that of than me! Look at Mr. Bingley and all I thought throughout the winter and spring! I was as wrong as I could possibly have been." "But Jane, as you are well aware, it was not as simple as that!" In fact Elizabeth knew much more about this particular matter than Jane did. "In your situation with Mr. Darcy though, my opinions are based solely on what I have learned from you. To that end, the gentleman showed you a regard that I can only conclude is much more than casual friendship." In her thoughtful approach, Jane did add what she hoped would be some comfort to her dear sister. "Lizzy, remember, Mr. Darcy is a man with many responsibilities. You told me yourself how you came to truly understand that when you observed him at his desk. Remember, it has only been a week. That is not so very long. Do not yet despair."

Elizabeth let out a tortured sigh. "Well, Jane...," she started to answer, but was cut off with a quick knock upon the door before Mrs. Bennet entered. "Jane, dear, you have a letter. The writing is difficult to make out. Pray, open it now!" A glance at the sealing wax alerted Jane to the sender. She carefully unfolded the note. It was short and she quickly scanned the page. "It is from Charles," she announced as she moved across the lines. "His writing is most careless. I believe he says..." but before she
could reveal the contents Mrs. Bennet snatched the page from Jane's hand and read it for herself. "Well," she looked to her second daughter, "this is interesting. It appears that he has written to include Lizzy in his invitation to stay at his house in London. His penmanship is quite appalling. It definitely says 'your sister' and since it could not be "Mary' or "Kitty' it must be Lizzy." She then continued without sincere thought, "Of course Lizzy cannot go. She will be needed here with Kitty and Mary while we are away."

 

Jane and Elizabeth both looked crestfallen. Jane took a hint and ventured, "Oh, Mama, I am sure that all will be well here if Lizzy were to come with us. I would very much like it. Papa could not object, do you think?" "Oh, I am sure your father would not give his consent. After all, Lizzy has just returned from the City. In any case, there is no real reason that she need join us."
No more was said to her daughters and Mrs. Bennet left the room with Mr. Bingley's correspondence. They heard her voice ring out in the hallway when the sound of Hill's boots came up the stairs; she had some questions about the laundry. The sisters did not need to voice their opinions; they were both of one mind and confirmed it with an exchange of piqued looks. Still, when Elizabeth spoke, she could not avoid a shrewd observation. "I believe that Mama still holds some resentment towards me in refusing Mr. Collins. It can emerge at the most unfortunate times." "Lizzy, let us go and speak to Papa, for I am sure he could have no objection to such a plan." "I would not wish to look to be disregarding Mama's wishes, Jane, for that could not be to my advantage." "Then I will ask, for she can find no reason to fault me these days with my engagement to Mr. Bingley so fresh on her mind. Come with me though, please."

They searched for Mr. Bennet and located him overseeing the removal of a dead willow in the far end of the established gardens. Jane waited patiently by his side while the labourers manoeuvred to remove the stump. "Papa," she was finally able to address him when his attention was upon her, "Mr. Bingley has written today to invite Lizzy to join us in London." She glanced back at Elizabeth. "Mama did not think you would allow it. Would you mind terribly if she went with us?" Jane's faced
beamed up at her father. Elizabeth wished most fervently to be invisible at this moment as her father studied her over the rim of his glasses for some time. Finally he asked, "Lizzy, what would you prefer? To stay at home with an old man and two silly girls or to spend time in the City shopping and organizing a wedding?" She noticed that his eyes were twinkling merrily as he posed his question. "I would not wish to leave Longbourn if you felt I was needed here, sir." "Ah, Lizzy, your good sense will always be needed here, but the time will come when I have no choice but to watch it go, along with you. Pray, go to London and enjoy yourself." Although Elizabeth said nothing, the look upon her face when he announced his approval was more than enough to satisfy Mr. Bennet. To Jane he said, "Tell you mother you have my consent for Lizzy to join you." With his hands clasped behind his back he turned his attention once again to watch developments with the stump. The sisters linked arms and made to leave.

Over his shoulder, Mr. Bennet called, "And, Lizzy!" "Yes Papa," Jane and Elizabeth both stopped. "When you see Mr. Darcy, kindly give him my regards!" Upon hearing this remark Elizabeth replied red faced, "Certainly Papa," and she escaped with Jane up to the house while her heart began to skip every other beat in anticipation of seeing Fitzwilliam.

The fine weather of late summer had reached across to also engulf the north of England and Pemberley was basking in the delights of the season as well. Darcy had spent several full days actively overseeing the many facets of his estate, for he was an owner who was most assuredly occupied in all that might occur upon his property. While it was impossible for him to make himself available for each and every decision that might be made at Pemberley, Darcy did not desire to leave details of a certain importance to others. This afternoon he was riding across the most southern part of the property along with his manager. There were some tenants who wished to extend the land they were working. The manager had informally approved it, but Darcy was
concerned that they would encroach upon some delicate woods that especially interested him. He would walk the new division himself, with prudent attention to the new section to be laid out, and assure that all were in agreement over the boundaries.

The midday temperature had increased; it was unusually oppressive for the season. Mr. Darcy stopped his horse under the shade of some large oak trees and dismounted. He motioned for the manager to continue on and waved in acknowledgement that he would follow momentarily. His mind was brimming with many details of his estate. He had been inundated upon his return from London and in this week it seemed he had seen to business enough for a month. And still, there was a month's more waiting for his attention. From this vantage, an expansive view of Pemberley was laid out before him. Certainly not all of the property was visible; it stretched too many miles to the north. Darcy was surveying a gently sloping valley dotted with groves of trees that rose up onto a level plain where, beyond lay the house and further extensive woods. He knew every inch of his land, from one end to the other, and he felt an intense passion for it.

He wanted Elizabeth to know it too, for he judged her to be a woman who would grow to feel about it as he did. It is yet another reason why she belongs here with me. His desire for an agreement once again threatened to overtake his thoughts.
With a heavy sigh, he again focused his mind upon his personal life. He could see himself able to travel next week if he put in long days until then. With the two days it took to reach Meryton he could place himself there at the end of the week. He silently agreed to work towards just that and with any luck and a generous amount of good fortune he would be with Elizabeth by the following Friday. Perhaps I will just steal her away and we might hide from the world for Saturday, Sunday and every day from then onwards. At this prospect, Darcy smiled a most engaging smile to his horse, who had no appreciation for his owner's handsome dimples. Before he remounted and rode on to meet his manager and the tenants, he unconsciously turned and looked off into the distance, in the direction where he believed Greta Green to be.

Mrs. Bennet had been flitting around the house for two days in a high state of nervousness over the preparations for London. She fretted about the day dresses and the evening dresses and the amount of trunks with which to bring items for the wedding home in. She worried about room in the carriage and how Mr. Bingley's sisters would take to them being there for two weeks. After reassuring her over each distressful thought, all in her family had tried to cease listening any further to her from the first day. Avoidance was the best course of action and all practiced it as best they could. It was not, therefore, without some relief that Mr. Bennet stood back from the carriage and waved a cheerful goodbye to all three as they began their trip to the City.
Over breakfast that same morning Caroline Bingley was in a foul mood. To her sister she indicated her full displeasure with a day that had only just begun. Serious discussions had already taken place between the women about the guests who would soon begin descending upon the household. They could not understand what they might have done to now be paying the price of gaining such ghastly in laws. Both agreed it was not to be borne and that they were very much put out by their brother. They were displeased to the highest degree.

 

So it was when the party from Longbourn arrived Jane's zealous fianc??BR>and his dour sister greeted them. Mr. Bingley was open and welcoming with an easy manner even to Mrs. Bennet, who exclaimed about each room she was led through. Miss Bingley, who was on her own owing to her sister's departure, said very little, but there was no room for misunderstanding her feelings. When Mrs. Bennet asked to rest before dinner, Miss Bingley escorted the ladies upstairs to their rooms. She was quick to say, "Now, Mrs. Bennet, if there is anything you need to not hesitate to ask. My brother and I always take great care that our guests enjoy their stay while they are in our home." Then she turned to Jane and Elizabeth and continued down the hall to them, "And of course Miss Bennet and Miss Eliza that extends to you also. We want you to feel most welcome during your visit." And she gave them a squinty smile that seemed most artificial.

Elizabeth joined Jane in her room after Miss Bingley had returned downstairs. Elizabeth felt like bursting with laughter at Miss
Bingley's insincerity but she controlled her emotions for Jane's sake until she saw Jane smile and then they both enjoyed a good giggling session. It helped to ease the discomfort that Jane felt coming into a house with Caroline Bingley in charge.
"It seems that Miss Bingley would not have us forget that we are indeed guests here," Elizabeth noted. "It is quite likely that she is worried what will become of her once you and Mr. Bingley are married." Jane readily admitted that she had some uncertainties about taking her place as mistress of the house. She had anticipated that Miss Bingley might be reluctant to give up her position. Confirmation of the apparent insecurity she felt with her situation did nothing to boost Jane's confidence; she grew wary of what a woman like Caroline Bingley might do when she alleged to be under some sort of attack.

Elizabeth tried to put her mind at ease with the most obvious fact that Mr. Bingley would no doubt take his sister to task if it were required. "Jane, Mr. Bingley holds you in the highest regard. You will be his wife and as such, you will be the mistress of all this and Netherfield. He would never allow you to be treated unfairly, especially by Miss Bingley. Do not worry." Then as an afterthought she added, "And Jane, do not ever let her overstep her position once you are married. I worry you will be too nice if the situation arises."

It was at tea the next afternoon that Miss Bingley mentioned calling upon Georgiana Darcy that very day. "Poor girl, she has only Miss Annesley to keep her company these days with Mr. Darcy's return to Pemberley." Elizabeth received her comments with some great disappointment, for there had been nothing spoken of the gentleman during their visit prior to this. But she did her best to appear undeterred while in the company of so many. It was not without much effort that she remained poised and agreeable for the remainder of the evening. That night when she was alone, she mourned Darcy's return to Derbyshire and her very bad luck. She also began to doubt again the feelings she thought he held for her. Is Fitzwilliam interested in pursuing a relationship with me? Why has he returned to Pemberley?

The days that followed found Mrs. Bennet and her daughters spending a tremendous amount of time out and about in the City, searching the warehouses and shops along the best streets of London. Mr. Bingley's carriage was at their disposal, much to Miss Bingley's annoyance. They were shopping for Jane's wedding dress, of course, but there was also her trousseau to purchase. Mr. Bennet was very generous with what Jane would be allowed to spend; there was also the pin money that was now hers from her future husband. Bingley had already discussed it with Mr. Bennet and Jane, although the future Mrs. Bingley preferred to practice prudence with this allowance. It was proving to be a formidable task; Mrs. Bennet was determined that she should be well outfitted as Mrs. Charles Bingley and even Elizabeth thought that Jane might expand her wardrobe. She kept making the point of how different Jane's lifestyle was to be from that in Meryton. In the end she did agree to some extra purchases and no one was more delighted in it than Charles Bingley himself.

It was one afternoon several days into their stay that Jane had a visit from the housekeeper Mrs. Tate. She and Elizabeth had been admiring some of the more delicate items that had been purchased that day. Elizabeth was particularly taken with one ivory silk and lace piece that she thought exquisite. As she held it up and studied her reflection in a mirror, there was a knock upon the door. "Come in," Jane called as she motioned to her to put down the item in her hands. Mrs. Tate's smile was open and friendly. "Pardon me Miss Bennet. Am I disturbing you?" "Not at all," Jane replied. She tucked some of the new garments
discreetly under their wrappings while Elizabeth put the one she was holding behind her back. "What might I do for you, Mrs. Tate?" "Mr. Bingley suggested that during your stay I might give you a tour and familiarize you with the house and certain aspects of running the household. I have not yet spoken to you about it." Jane's eyes widened as she looked to her sister. Elizabeth gave her a bright smile of encouragement. "Well, certainly Mrs. Tate. Had you a specific time in mind?" "Oh no ma'am. Whenever it might suit you." "Well, I am able to do it now," Jane said as she tried to control the excitement she felt. "Would it disrupt your duties?" "Certainly not. Now would be fine ma'am." She smiled again. "Since we are already upstairs we might as well start from the top and work our way down."

 

With that she left the room and Jane mouthed to Elizabeth, "Come on!' and waved her hand for her to follow. Elizabeth in turn mouthed back, "No, you go!' whereby Jane grabbed her wrist and dragged her along through the doorway as she dropped Jane's
new lingerie on a chair. Both quickly recovered to smile sweetly to Mrs. Tate. She then led them to the end of the hallway and up a set of stairs that was narrower than those from the ground floor. They found themselves at the top floor of the three-story townhouse, or the second floor. It was not as elaborately decorated as the two floors below. Much of it was used for staff quarters and Jane was shown the staircase that the staff used to gain access to every floor in the house. The other rooms
on this level included several that were used for storage and one at the farthest end of the hall, accessible from a private staircase in the master suites below, that had once been the sunroom Mr. Bingley's mother had especially enjoyed.
They descended back down to the first floor and were shown many bedchambers, and the children's nurseries and playrooms from years past, when they finally reached the master suites. Mrs. Tate swung open the double doors and they entered into a vast room that had sweeping views across the City and the park, exactly like the sunroom one floor above. The most prominent feature within the main room was a gigantic four-poster bed that caught the eyes of both sisters immediately. Closer to them was a grouping of over stuffed chairs and sofas arranged around a fireplace. There was a discreet doorway along this wall that, when Mrs. Tate acknowledged led to 'the Master's rooms', Jane squeezed her sister's hand. Along the opposite wall was another doorway that Mrs. Tate had opened which was another huge room, void of furnishing. This, the sisters were told, was to be Jane's dressing room.

Then Mrs. Tate surprised them both when she said, "Mr. Bingley especially wanted me to show you these rooms. He was very specific in his instructions ma'am. He wanted you to have a very good look over them and then he wanted you to order all new wallpaper, linens, and fabrics for the furniture and the draperies. For the sunroom too," she added as they all glanced over to the ornate spiral staircase in the corner of the dressing room. "He said that it was to be left up to you what was chosen. He also wanted you to pick whatever you might like to use in your dressing room. My instructions are to pack away all of these old things and send them upstairs." She indicated to the main room and looked expectantly to Jane. "But Mrs. Tate, this room is very nice as it is. Are you certain these were Mr. Bingley's instructions?" "Oh, yes indeed. You see ma'am, this room has not been used since Mrs. Bingley, that is, Mr. Bingley's mother, was alive. That has been a good many years now. No, Mr. Bingley was most precise in his instructions." She paused and then suggested, "Perhaps you would like to return here when we are done and have a good look around?' "Yes, Mrs. Tate," Jane answered, "I think that is a very good suggestion."

The tour then went to the ground floor where they passed many of the finely decorated rooms they had already seen during their stay, although they did peek into the ballroom for the first time, where they were treated to the wondrous sight of the afternoon sun sparkling on the crystal chandeliers and sending flecks of lights scattering across the parquet floor. Then they were led into the kitchen, for although it was rare that the owners would ever venture back into this section of the house, it would do the new mistress well to at least know its location. From there, Mrs. Tate lead them through the maze of rooms used by the staff and served every capacity necessary to run the household efficiently. They stopped, at last, in her office and while tea was brought in, she began to go into some very specific details about the household routines. Just as she had reached the weekly calendar for baking, Caroline Bingley appeared in the doorway. "Why, Mrs. Tate, whatever is going on here?" She looked to Jane and
Elizabeth with some amount of disapproval. "May I ask why you are in this part of the house? It is really not for guests," she lectured. Before Mrs. Tate could be blamed, Jane answered simply, "Mr. Bingley asked Mrs. Tate to give me a tour of the house and to acquaint me with its' routines. We have now reached her office." "The running of this household is not any of...," but then she stopped for she had spoken before she thought. "I see. That is most thoughtful of Charles," she said flatly and then looked to Mrs. Tate. "Please Mrs. Tate. Do not give Miss Bennet too much to remember at one time. She comes from a very small household and will surely be overwhelmed with the details our way of living." And then she turned and left the
kitchen without the courtesy of a goodbye. Mrs. Tate looked to Jane with some amount of confusion. Jane calmly said, "Pray continue Mrs. Tate and when we are done you must give me some suggestions where I might begin to shop for the master suite." When the sisters were returning upstairs, Elizabeth made a point of stressing her earlier comments. "One hint of weakness in you and she will take control. Remember that, Jane."

Darcy had thought this day would never arrive. As he slowed his horse he could just make out Netherfield across the pastureland. It looked as it did a year ago, when he and Charles had first seen it, riding along this very spot. How much had changed for both of them since that day. Who would have believed the events that have unfolded all from Charles taking this country house? Darcy shook his head when he thought of fate and how it had played such a large part in his life. He was anxious to call in to Longbourn. But, he needed to first go to Meryton and take a room at the local inn, as there was no one in residence at Netherfield. However, the pull of Longbourn was too great for the impatient man and he decided to stop there immediately. As he rode up to the house, he saw one of Elizabeth's sisters spot him and run around to the garden. He assumed that Elizabeth would appear momentarily, but to his surprise it was Mr. Bennet who came round the side of the house and approached him in greeting.

"Mr. Darcy, my word, what a surprise it is to see you here." Mr. Bennet was very diverted to see the gentleman for he felt sure there was a purpose to his visit. His day had just taken a most welcome turn. It was all he could do to keep from rubbing his hands in glee. "Pray, come inside a have some refreshment sir, for you look to have been travelling a good distance."
"Thank you Mr. Bennet," he replied looking around for signs of other Bennet daughters. The house was especially quiet and Mr. Bennet led him into an empty sitting room. He invited Darcy to sit and rang for tea. Then he gave the gentleman his full attention. "So, sir you have just arrived then?" "Yes indeed. I thought to stop in at Longbourn before I went into Meryton."
"Oh?" "Yes, there is no one at Netherfield and I will be staying at the local inn while I am here." Mr. Bennet was enjoying this greatly for he could see Mr. Darcy was stealing glances around to the doorways, hoping to see one daughter in particular at any moment. "And sir, is it business or pleasure that brings you to Hertfordshire?" he asked unnecessarily.

Darcy did not answer immediately. He looked down and then rubbed a hand across his mouth, a gesture that Mr. Bennet recognized as one of some hesitation. When he met Mr. Bennet's gaze, there was some uncertainty in his eyes. Not having intended to put the gentleman in so much difficulty, Mr. Bennet volunteered, "Mr. Darcy, sir, I may be somewhat presumptuous in what I am about to say. Please feel free to soundly upbraid if that is the case. But I would venture to guess that you have come to call on Elizabeth. Am I correct?" Mr. Darcy looked almost relieved at the discovery and acknowledged, "Indeed, I have come in hopes of seeing Miss Elizabeth." He again took up his vigil of searching the entrances. "I am in the most unenviable position then sir, for it is left to me to tell you of her trip to London." To say the gentleman was disappointed when made aware of the circumstances of her absence did not do justice to his reaction. He was depleted nearly to the point of abject despair.
Looking upon Darcy at that moment, Mr. Bennet was stirred to recall some feelings from long ago that he had all but forgotten. He made the gentleman a suggestion that succeeded raising his emotional state to mere bleakness. "Sir, I would be most honoured if you would stay here at Longbourn for I see no reason to deprive myself of your company. Pray, if you would agree, we might enjoy a hearty meal and a good chat afterwards." Darcy could see no reason to refuse and indeed began to think that
perhaps there were some advantages to a quiet evening with Mr. Bennet.

Chapter Nineteen

 

Mr. Bennet had posed the correct question to Darcy about his visit. There had been but two choices from which to pick, and he had quickly surmised that the man had travelled to Longbourn for a specific reason: either to ask Elizabeth for her hand or ask her father for it. Although there was a chance that Darcy had already spoken to Elizabeth in London and then travelled to Longbourn to speak to him, the way he had cast his eyes about upon his arrival at Longbourn led Mr. Bennet to deduce otherwise. What he learned from the gentleman, though, was that Darcy had travelled to Pemberley more than two weeks ago.

 

As such, he had not seen Elizabeth at all. Therefore, a good guess had been made, and a more reasonable one, for in any case he could not have come out and told Darcy he believed him wanting to ask for his daughter's hand. Mr. Bennet enjoyed studying people. And Darcy was proving to be a most interesting subject. His reputation among the populace of Meryton had certainly gotten off to a dubious start. And Mr. Bennet had really paid the man little heed until recently. Now, to suddenly find him
intimately involved with his family on several fronts, he was happy to acknowledge that he liked him. To quite a degree. He was a straightforward man with a very reserved nature, which had obviously contributed to earning him the mistaken label of being full of pride. Mr. Bennet found him honest and recognized that he held strong values that he did not just speak of, but lived by.

He was reminded of what Elizabeth had said in his study about the man: 'He is the very best of men'. At the time he had thought her comment made from pure emotion but he now recognised that his daughter's very good judgement and common sense had been speaking that day. Mr. Bennet chuckled in anticipation of a most interesting evening. It was sheer disbelief that hit Darcy with a monumental force when Mr. Bennet had told him of Elizabeth's trip to London. From the height of hope he had fallen into a wretchedly woeful state. But disguise was his aim and he had tried to rally to avoid any appearance of being nonplussed or despondent. He knew not how well his subterfuge had been.

He had retired to freshen up, and some time alone had proven a useful tool in pulling his emotions together. An effort to understand the unusual mood that had overtaken his disappointment was attempted as he had earlier stretched out in the bath. There was a measure of disbelief and a tinge of dismay over all the difficulty in getting here only to be beaten again by bad timing and fate, which had now turned into his nemesis. As the steam had curled up and surrounded his neck and face, he had closed his eyes to the frustration and tried to let it go. Now, as the colours of the evening sunset were framed in the window,
Darcy stood buttoning a fresh shirt in an upstairs room at Longbourn. The air had grown cooler, and he moved to close the window, thus bringing the wispy curtains to stop their light frolic in the evening breeze.

Certainly Darcy had never presumed to be in the position in which he now found himself. It has left me somewhat unsettled. He was expected downstairs momentarily to sit and eat with Mr. Bennet, and also two of Elizabeth's sisters, whom he had never spoken to before. Far more astonishing, he was spending the night at Longbourn. I'm not even sure whose room this is. There was a definite feeling that Elizabeth should be here when he was in her house. He felt almost as if he was skulking about behind her back. Overall, as he watched his reflection in the mirror, he judged his mood was now undoubtedly anxiousness.Darcy's reaction to all of this was to tie his cravat a little too tight. He decided it was time for him to be going downstairs.

As Bingley was the only man dining in his townhouse, there was no separation of the sexes after dinner. He readily escorted Mrs. Bennet on one arm and Jane on the other into a more intimate room off of the dining room that was used for entertaining smaller groups. It was, however, still grand by any standard.

 

A pianoforte could be found in the corner and, as they had on most evenings during their stay, Elizabeth and Miss Bingley took turns at the keys. Elizabeth would usually play first as Miss Bingley preferred the opportunity to outdo her afterwards. On this particular evening, they switched their established order, and while Miss Bingley played, Elizabeth sat by her mother, engrossed in a book. Charles and Jane sat away from the others and this afforded them a chance for some private conversation.
After some discussion of the weather and the health of each other, Jane's fianc?��ed his voice to avoid being overheard. "I
understand that Mrs. Tate escorted you through the house." "Yes, Charles. She was very thorough and most helpful. It was
considerate of you to suggest it." "You may go to Mrs. Tate with any sort of question, Jane. She is most reliable and has been with our family since I was a boy." Jane smiled in understanding and Charles continued, "And how did you find everything? Was it to you liking?" "Oh my yes! Need you even ask such a question, sir?" There was a silence between them and then he continued, "So, she showed you the master suites then?" He was obviously trying to come around to some specific topic and was having some trouble in doing so. "Yes, Charles."

He again paused before asking, "And she spoke to you about my instructions?" Jane was certain he was uncomfortable with this subject. His eyes did not meet hers but they scanned the room as if it held some great interest for him. "Which instructions might those be, Charles?" she teased.

His checks reddened slightly and he answered, "Regarding changes to the room, Jane." "Oh, of course she did, Charles," was her reply. He rallied his courage to look at her and professed most sincerely, "Jane, my dearest, I want you to do whatever you might like with those rooms. It matters not to me what you purchase or the cost. All the expenses will be paid by me. I will not have them coming from your pin money." When she made to protest, he shushed her. Spying Mrs. Bennet's gaze upon them, he continued in an even lower voice, "My only wish is that you are content with them. I would desire you to always be well
pleased during the time you spend within those rooms."

As he searched her eyes, the double meaning of his words did not escape Jane, although she was unsure if he had intended for it to be so. She had coloured upon hearing them but displayed to Charles a hitherto unknown trait when she responded. "I would suppose, my dear sir, that, whether the furnishings are new or old or even the brightest shade of orange that, as long as I am with you, my time within those rooms could be nothing but agreeable." With an expression that was initially inclined towards incredulity, but quickly changed to approval, Charles Bingley reassessed his fianc?cluded that he might well be in an even better position than he had supposed. "Now this topic is most certainly to my liking," he whispered. Another look over to his future mother-in-law assured him that they were not being observed. "You enjoy discussing fabrics, do you, Charles?" Jane asked while she followed Miss Bingley's skilled fingers move with precision over the pianoforte.

"We are discussing more than that, Jane, as you well know." "Ah yes, we are also discussing furniture!" Jane smiled at him with a newly found boldness that he found very alluring. "Madam, the only piece of furniture that my conversation pertains to
is the one with four posts."

 

The only physical indication that Jane had heard Mr. Bingley's whispered innuendo was a widening of her eyes as she sat very till. It was fleeting, and before she responded she scanned the room to see if they were being overheard. When she felt quite safe, she ventured assuredly, "I believe you enjoy teasing me about such things! "What I enjoy, Jane, is a discussion about our contentment in the marital suite." There was much satisfaction for Mr. Bingley with the intimate undercurrents exchanging between them. He absentmindedly reached for Jane's hand and held it in his while he traced his fingers randomly across her palm and up and down her wrist. Her composure was becoming ruffled by these sensations and after some moments Bingley
caught her mood and changed his ministrations, although his new activity was no help in reclaiming her poise. Mr. Bingley had raised her hand to his lips and begun placing wayward kisses discreetly on her palm and wrist.

But Jane's reply was all the encouragement that was required to continue the conversation. "Hummm, pray sir, tell me your opinion. Will we be content?" His answer was so low that even Jane had to strain to hear him. "As each day goes by, I grow to believe it more and more. We need only to..." Just then Mrs. Bennet's attention turned towards the couple and Bingley released Jane's hand. She interrupted him with, "Whatever are you speaking of so secretly? One would think you did not want the rest
of us to hear!" "We were discussing the re-decorating of the master suites, Mama. I was just asking Mr. Bingley if he did not wish to see what I might choose." "Indeed, I need not," Charles gave his reply, "for if it pleases you it will most certainly please me." Mrs. Bennet was quick to make her opinion known. "As it should be, Mr. Bingley. What man has any interest in such trivialities? That is what women are for." Throughout the ebb and flow of this topic, Miss Bingley's playing had become forced. She had not known that her mother's suite was to be refitted.

The only one who seemed to notice this change was Elizabeth, who had stopped her reading to observe Miss Bingley. Resting her gaze upon Mr. Bingley next, she was unexpectedly addressed by the gentleman in a playful tone. "Lizzy, I must say again how unfortunate it is that Darcy had to return to Pemberley. I can only imagine his disappointment when he discovers your paths have crossed."

 

While his sister came even closer to fumbling in her playing with this remark, Elizabeth wondered at what he said. It is as if he jokes about Fitzwilliam. She could not understand why Mr. Bingley would do such a thing and the remark that followed completely baffled her. "I dare say, you must catch up on your sleep, for if Darcy does return to Town while you are in residence, we will want you well-rested!"

Dinner at Longbourn was a protracted affair for Darcy, not literally, but in his mind. While the meal was fine and plentiful, the company was odd. He sat to the left of Mr. Bennet, at one end of the table, and to the right of his daughter Mary at the other, while across from him was Catherine, or as she was called by all, Kitty. Mr. Bennet was skilled at the appropriate small talk that should accompany a meal, but his daughters behaved quite differently. The eldest, Mary, did not speak to encourage replies but rather stated opinions, mostly dealing with biblical or moral topics that Darcy found best left untouched. Each time she spoke, Darcy diverted his attention to his plate in an effort to avoid being the focus of her remarks. Kitty, on the other hand, uttered not a word, excepting the times she was pointedly asked by her father to respond to some remark. Throughout the meal, Darcy found her with her head down, trying to appear unnoticed, while sneaking glances at him. Several times while she was attempting to eat, as she was riveted to his image, she missed her target and with her aim off course, she would hit her chin or her cheek and spill her food.

 

No one was more relieved than Darcy when the meal concluded and he was rescued from the company of the young ladies.
Mr. Bennet suggested that he might prefer to join him in his study and leave his daughters to "their own devices", as he put it. It was all Darcy could do to keep from sprinting towards the doorway. But his manners were always foremost in his mind, and he bid the girls a polite adieu before he followed their father out of the room. The first impression that Darcy got when he entered Mr. Bennet's study was that the man was very well read. There was not an empty space along any bursting bookshelf; in fact, voluminous stacks of books were haphazardly left along the very edges of the shelves and across all the available table space in the room. While Darcy took the opportunity to survey his collection and make approving comments as he progressed, Mr. Bennet poured them both a healthy after dinner drink and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in the room.

A quick glance over to Mr. Bennet caused Darcy to belatedly fathom that he might have left one ordeal only to step into another. I may have stepped from baking in the heat to burning in the flames. Mr. Bennet settled them with their brandies, and in an attempt to ease any awkwardness that his guest might be feeling, he pointedly asked Mr. Darcy about his estate and what had been occupying his time there recently.

Under Mr. Bennet's gaze, Darcy began to speak of Pemberley. He did so without any hint of pomposity. Mr. Bennet came to realize that this young man was responsible for an estate the size of which he had never fully understood. And more notable to Elizabeth's father was an understanding that Darcy knew of its management in the greatest detail. There was not a question that Mr. Bennet posed that was not only answered but was responded to with such a volume of information that he could not but impressed with the gentleman.

The man could not have broached a better subject, for few things delighted Darcy more than talking of his beloved Pemberley. Mr. Bennet peppered him with questions occasionally, but for the most part sat back and listened as the gentleman opened up and became quite relaxed in talking about his home. All while he spoke, Darcy communicated the sense of connection he shared with his land. The distant manner that quite often cloaked the gentleman fell away, replaced with a passion as he rendered colourful images of Pemberley. His desire to accurately describe even those everyday bits of life that were so often taken in
stride, resulted in the mundane being transformed into the interesting.

Clearly displaying the confidence he held in his knowledge of Pemberley, Darcy was the epitome of a well-to-do landowner, and yet, through the whole of the conversation there was not an indication of vanity. There were no signs of the pride that he had been labelled with on other occasions.

It had been a lengthy narrative, and Mr. Bennet was moved to observe, "I must say, sir, I was unaware of the extent of your property. I can imagine that you must find it difficult to be away for any length of time." "Yes, although as you might be well aware, at certain times of the year there is less of a demand, however this season is not one of them. In fact, I should be there now. And I cannot see myself being away for too long." He looked as if he wished to say more but fell silent. "Dare I venture then, Mr. Darcy, that your business must be of some importance for you to have left Pemberley just now?" Mr. Bennet's eyes
were fixed upon the gentleman as he had no wish to miss his reaction. Mr. Darcy grew very solemn. In fact, Mr. Bennet's statement led him to make an unconscious decision. He allowed himself to be led by correctness and bowed to the subtleties of etiquette. "Most definitely, Mr. Bennet, sir. As you must be fully aware of by this point, I have very deep feelings for your daughter. I have travelled for two days with one particular question to ask her. It has been most disappointing to discover she has gone to London." And on that note he began a tale that Mr. Bennet did not find wholly surprising but nevertheless had some revelations that left him momentarily startled.

In fact, Darcy initially had no intention of discussing in such detail what he revealed to Mr. Bennet. But, as the evening had progressed, he found himself more open and at ease with the gentleman than he had expected. An ally in Mr. Bennet, Darcy perceived, could benefit him greatly, not just in the next few weeks, but quite possibly in the years to come. And, as he had weighed just what he might say, he came to the understanding that he would be best served by an honest approach.

Moreover, he found that he genuinely liked the man. His fondness for Elizabeth's father, however, did not keep him from shrewdly judging to avoid many of the finer details of the history he shared with the gentleman's daughter. There were some points within Darcy's narrative that Mr. Bennet could not but help to exclaim or comment about. One such time was when he
spoke of Hunsford and revealed that he had asked for Elizabeth's hand while she was there. When her strong rejection, without the specifics, was disclosed, Mr. Bennet noted, "Ah, yes! That would be my Lizzy. She speaks with conviction whether it is her sound judgement or her emotions ruling the moment."

And when his letter of explanation regarding Mr. Wickham and Elizabeth's mistaken understanding was related, Mr. Bennet grew pensive. He had now been made aware of some rather sensitive business of Darcy's and did not take the confidence lightly. Eventually, he asked with some amount of irony, "So, sir, you do not hesitate to connect yourself with a family that will relate you directly to such a man?"

In a frank declaration, Darcy replied that he was not only unconcerned about it, he believed he might be in a more favourable position to wield some influence over the man, should his behaviour require censure. Finally, Darcy spoke of his recent stay in London. There were reflections upon his previous behaviour towards Elizabeth, and how he had attempted to clear a path for a true friendship to develop between them. He expressed his great hope that the time he spent being reacquainted with Elizabeth had developed into a preference on her part.

Mr. Bennet had already settled upon the depth of Darcy's admiration for his favourite daughter and, when evidence to such affection was so patently within his speech and equally spread across his face, Mr. Bennet was seized by a twinge of remorse. It was ephemeral, to be sure, but very real and for the moment it was there, more painful than he would have expected.
Elizabeth's father had witnessed in his daughter the very partiality that Darcy sought. Mr. Bennet knew that within his dearest Lizzy there was a passion for the man that now sat before him. He should immediately have been happy and his conscience should have been eased, to know that his daughter would be married for love and live without material concern. And yet, his heart would not let it be so.

 

Mr. Bennet now knew, even before Darcy went any further with his declaration, and there was no doubt that he would continue, that this was a major turning point in the way of life at Longbourn. Events from recent weeks had already set much into motion, but now, knowing full well what Darcy was going to say next, the reality of change, of growing older, of letting go was a force that overtook him. Nothing will ever be as it was again.

 

Darcy noticed a change in Mr. Bennet; he had grown quiet and introspective. While he had been all ease and openness this evening, something had clouded his humour. Darcy suddenly became anxious. In fact he had no need to worry. Elizabeth's father was a practical man when it came to what was the inevitable concerning his daughters, and after his brief moment of self-indulgence, he rallied to face reality. "Should I take it, then, that you will be leaving Hertfordshire in the morning?"

Darcy looked to Mr. Bennet and posed the question that very nearly stuck in his throat. "Yes, sir, I shall go to London early tomorrow to call on your daughter while she is in Town. I cannot say with any certainty that she will accept another offer from me. But knowing all that I have told you, were Miss Elizabeth to agree to marry me, would we have your consent?"

 

He had managed to ask and now he could only hope that the response from Mr. Bennet would be favourable. Mr. Bennet had stood and begun to pace the room. His hands were before him and he was tapping his index fingers together in habit as his
thoughts were quite engaged. When he spoke to the gentleman it was with appropriate fatherly concern. There were some pointed questions placed before Darcy that were answered without hesitation by his daughter's suitor to his liking. Then he sat back down and, pouring them another brandy, Darcy was given Mr. Bennet's answer. And while Mr. Bennet was in the position to guess with some confidence what his daughter's answer would be, Elizabeth's father would not let on to the man who held her passion if he would receive the answer he sought from her.

Chapter Twenty

It was still dark when Darcy threw back the covers and got out of bed. Sleep had been elusive and he had passed the time in observation of the slow progress that the moon's shadows made across the ceiling. A shiver ran through him as the chilly air, a first sign of the season's change, and the colder floorboards made contact with his exposed toes. Finally, dawn's light broke through the darkness; as Darcy pulled back the curtains, the faint glow of a sunrise gilded the horizon with the beginning of a new day. With the light filling the room, there was no need for a candle; Darcy actually enjoyed the half-light as the surrounding greys transformed into colour. He dressed quietly and the only noise that could be heard as he packed what little he had brought with him was a pair of doves greeting the morning.

 

With another glance at the peaceful situation, he appreciated it to be the same sight that had greeted Elizabeth all the years of her life. A feeling of intimacy coursed through him and although she was miles away, he believed he had just shared something
very personal with her. Another final look across the Hertfordshire countryside was indulged in before he grabbed his bags and made his way downstairs.

He was greeted by Hill, who always rose before dawn and prided herself in being the first awake in the household each day. She made certain that Darcy's man had readied his horse and saw to it that the gentleman ate a full breakfast; she cooked it herself, for Hill knew travelling on the highway to be a hard business and one where stamina was important. While he finished his coffee, his morning's preference, Darcy unexpectedly heard the sound of measured footsteps, which preceded Mr. Bennet's entrance into the dining room. He rose to greet Elizabeth's father and expressed his surprise at the gentleman's appearance at
such an early hour.

 

"Well, Mr. Darcy," he replied, "I do find that I am an early riser on occasion and last night I made a promise to myself that I might give you a proper send off."

Thanks were then given to Mr. Bennet for his consideration and hospitality before Darcy indicated that he was prepared to depart. As the two men walked through the house and out the door, Mr. Bennet could not but say some parting words to his guest. "It was most agreeably unexpected to have you here, Mr. Darcy." He looked at him pointedly and continued, "I have taken much pleasure in the acquaintance, sir. I do wish you the very best of luck in London, for I would greatly enjoy seeing you again!"

 

Darcy could not but smile at the gentleman and his wry sense of humour. "Indeed, Mr. Bennet, the sentiment is mutual."
As Mr. Bennet watched him ride away, he did very much wish that Darcy fared better with his offer to Elizabeth than had Mr. Collins. For not only was Mr. Darcy in possession of all of the good common sense that Mr. Collins lacked, but he had not one bit of the absurd in him that Mr. Collins held a monopoly on.

Mrs. Bennet had begun the morning flustered and fussing, for she was worried about all that had to be done. It was to be a hectic and busy day for them. Mrs. Gardiner would be joining them in their full round of appointments today, so they were obliged to first go to Gracechurch Street. Lingering over breakfast was not an option by Mrs. Bennet's way of thinking.
"Jane, please do not take another bun," her mother instructed her, "for we have not the time." "But, Mama, I have not yet had one," Jane protested as she felt her stomach grumble. She placed a large pastry on her plate. "Well, never mind, for you must pay attention to your figure these days in any case. It will not hurt you to skip your bun." "But I am hungry!" she exclaimed.
"My dear, we must make haste or there can be no hope of completing all that we must do today," her mother insisted.
Elizabeth was prepared to voice her opinion when Mr. Bingley entered the dining room with his usual cheerful morning greetings. After addressing all of the ladies, with particular attention to his intended, he took his place at the table and inquired after their day.

Mrs. Bennet immediately answered with, "Oh, Mr. Bingley, we have a terribly busy schedule! There are many appointments that we must keep." She paused to pointedly look at Jane. "In fact, we were just preparing ourselves to leave as we must depart immediately or we shall be late to our first stop." At this point Jane gave in and abandoned her tea and bun. She gave her
fianc?eous goodbye and then rose to follow her mother, who had made her way towards the doorway. But as she turned, she gave Charles a parting smile and rolled her eyes towards her mother in a silent message, which they both understood. Elizabeth quickly made the appropriate farewells and hurried along after them, afraid of being left behind