Steady To His Purpose
[WIP - Regency/PG13]

Part Three

Chapter 24

He had beautiful hands, she thought, incongruously. Very beautiful hands. Reassuringly strong, with long, perfectly formed fingers. The thumbs were a little flatter, slightly upturned at the end, and Elizabeth watched, mesmerised, as they gently brushed across the backs of her hands, in so light a touch that she could barely feel it. Yet there was very little else of which she was more acutely aware.

How odd that he should have warm hands. Strange, that. She did not know why, but she would have expected them to be cool. They were not. They were warm and firm and very gentle.

He had held her hands before, of course. In a dance. In a greeting. In handing her down from a carriage. But not without the double barrier of gloves, and most certainly never with such exquisite intimacy.

Miss Bennet, will you allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you?

The words coursed through her, delightfully alive in her mind long after they were spoken, their chant silencing all else that followed. Tears threatened as she listened to his voice. Low and caressing, it held a warmth that had never been there before - and also a tinge of uncertainty, as unmistakable as it was endearing.

Elizabeth blinked. This distraction - it simply would not do! With some effort, she willed herself back from the clouds to listen.

"... and indeed how could I not, with so much beauty and warmth before me! I was entranced before I knew it, before even knowing, truly knowing you. It was your loveliness that I saw, your sparkling wit that drew me, and your unequivocal rejection of every form of artifice that I admired. It was only... later... sometime later," he faltered, in a manner she could not quite account for, "that I have been granted the chance to see that there was so much more. That your affections ran deep, your loyalty was steadfast and absolute and that there could be no greater prize than your love, for any man. I could never find your equal, Elizabeth!"

He did not correct himself, indeed he did not even appear to notice. His words - and the exquisite sound of her name on his lips - made her smile in wonder as she raised her eyes from their joined hands to his face. He had beautiful eyes as well. And long, dark lashes. She had not noticed this, not ever, but then she had never seen him in such close proximity before.

How utterly amazing that she could think his eyes cold and disapproving! So many months ago, such little perception... The warmth was unmistakable now. And overpowering. So much so that she blushed - profusely - and lowered her gaze.

"For many months, I have known that there is no one I could possibly esteem or admire more. That there is nobody else I could come to love. I have known, beyond any doubt, that life without you would be barren and empty, barely half lived. Nor would there be companionship, fulfilment, or joy. It is with you and you alone that I can find them..."

He stopped and she looked up.

"I should have spoken long before," he said, his countenance darkening, and he released one of her hands to rake his fingers though his hair. "I was..."

He looked away, distinctly uncomfortable, and a deep crease formed between his eyebrows.

She thought she would quite like to smooth it over with her fingers and, come to that, she would very much like to brush off that adorable set of unruly locks that had fallen in disarray over his brow. To see him so discomfited was yet another source of wonder. She never would have thought it possible that he should succumb to such nervousness, much less display it. Her heart - or whatever was left of her heart that he did not as yet possess - went out to him, and it was with no small measure of self-restraint that Elizabeth held her peace and allowed him to continue.

He took a deep breath.

"There is much that I would change if I could! It serves no purpose to speak of it, particularly at this juncture, and particularly as making speeches is not something that I do well. Come to think of it," he added with sudden bitterness, "I rather doubt there was anything I did well throughout the course of our acquaintance, except perhaps impressing you with the fullest belief of my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain for the feelings of others!"

Elizabeth decisively shook her head at this and, on impulse, she reached to hold the hand that had released hers, some moments earlier. He looked up as she did so and a little smile brightened his countenance.

"Quod erat demonstrandum!" he almost laughed. "I cannot make speeches. Here I am, reminding you of all my faults and follies, at a time when..."

He carried her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently, reverently.

"I love you," he said simply. "And I beg you to consent to be my wife."

The library door was suddenly opened behind him - nonchalantly and audibly - but, other than an involuntary start and a fleeting but fierce grimace of annoyance, Darcy did not move. He did not even turn towards the door, and thus missed what might have been, under very different circumstances, the rather diverting sight of a very embarrassed Bingley, quite obviously torn between his amiable, discreet nature, on one side, and what he perceived to be his duty, on the other. It was impossible to misapprehend what he had unwittingly interrupted, and his consternation was great and his mortification slightly less so, as every fibre of his being urged him to excuse himself and close the door. Yet Bingley remained rooted to the spot until Elizabeth turned to smile at him, equally embarrassed, but substantially less distressed.

"I thank you, Charles. I am... All is well," she concluded with a conscious smile, wondering whether there ever was a polite way of asking her brother by marriage to excuse himself from his own library.

"It is?" asked Bingley, not entirely convinced. He had noticed the sparkle of tears in her eyes, and mortification could go hang, he would be sure!

"Is it?" Darcy whispered, almost at the same time, searching her face in an attempt to gauge her answer a moment sooner.

Elizabeth turned back to him and tightened the hold of her hands on his.

"Yes," she replied, laughter in her tear-strained voice and the brightest smile lighting up her countenance. "And ... yes!"

Their eyes held as Darcy stared, willing himself to believe that he had understood her rightly.

He felt like a fool, but he had to ask,

"That is... You do mean that you consent, I hope!"

"That is the meaning generally assigned to the word, Sir!" Elizabeth laughed through her tears, this time running freely, and then persuaded herself that this was not the best time for archness. "I do," she added, quietly and earnestly. "I ..."

She stopped. Abruptly. She could not very well continue this conversation in Mr Bingley's presence! Their situation was awkward enough; but his, she thought, must be still worse.

All thought of her brother was suddenly removed from her head, however, as she witnessed the most becoming expression of heartfelt delight diffusing over the face of the man still kneeling at her side. Mr Darcy. H Her betrothed.

She was brought back from her incredulous reverie by the sound of his voice whispering earnestly "Thank you!" before he brought her hands to his lips again. He then stood and turned to Bingley at last, an expression of unalloyed happiness in his countenance such as his friend had never seen him display, in the entire course of their acquaintance.

Bingley cleared his voice, embarrassed as never before.

"I... hm! ... believe I should... I understand... congratulations are in order!" he eventually finished and advanced with his hand outstretched. Darcy took it in a firm grip.

"They are indeed, my friend! I am very fortunate - perhaps more so than I deserve! - but be that as it may! As you have had cause to hear for yourself," he added with an odd look, not quite able to forgive his friend the intrusion into what must have been the happiest moment of his life, "Miss Bennet had just agreed to marry me. We are to be brothers after all!" he added, too happy to even consider that his last comment might have been somewhat of a faux-pas, in light of Miss Bingley's all-too-well-known disappointed ambitions. Fortunately, the thought occurred to neither, and no shadow was cast over the moment when Bingley, honestly and heartily, expressed his delight in the prospect of their relationship.

With a soft smile, Elizabeth acknowledged the proof of their long-standing bond of friendship, and counted amongst her blessings the fact that her dearest sister and herself will never suffer the pain of drifting apart because their chosen partners in life could not like or respect each other.

"Gentlemen, if you would excuse me," she suddenly said. "I have just been shamefully reminded that I have a dear sister who must not be longer neglected!" And, with a swish of skirts, a curtsey and an impish smile to her betrothed, she vanished from the library.

Darcy followed immediately, with a perfunctory "You will excuse me, Bingley!" and, unlike the previous day, this time his friend made no attempt to detain him. He went and poured himself a glass of port instead and wandered off to the window to berate and then amuse himself with thoughts of his untimely intrusion, and eventually attempt to make sense of the unexpected denouement. It explained a great many things, he could see that now, and raised a different set of questions as well, but now that he had overcome the initial shock, Bingley could be nothing but delighted for them. They were a good match, come to think of it, in every way - or at least in every way that mattered. And they would be happy, although their felicity would undoubtedly be of the more tempestuous kind than the one he himself and his darling Jane shared.

For his own part, he was overjoyed that his best friend was to become his brother. And Jane would undoubtedly be pleased. He could not wait to talk to her of it! Elizabeth was presumably with her now, unless she was still detained in the hallway! Jane would undoubtedly prefer to hear it from her rather than from himself, with all the details which he - mercifully - did not have, and to which only a conversation between sisters could possibly do justice.

Bingley took his time, briefly wondering just how long should he allow for it, quite determined that he had interrupted one too many private conversations that day as it was. He got his answer not much later, when he caught a glimpse of the newly engaged couple walking away from the house, at a sedate pace. With a light, satisfied tap on the windowsill, Bingley abandoned his unfinished glass and went in search of his wife.

~ * ~

Having left his friend in the library, Darcy lost no time in following Elizabeth down the wide corridor. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned, the brightest glow lighting up her countenance. He caught up with her in a few strides and took her hands, for once in his life quite indifferent to the fact that they might be observed.

"Wait! Please, wait!" he said hurriedly. "I cannot bear to see you leave so soon! Tell me again!"

"Yes! I will marry you. Nothing could make me happier," she complied with a smile, her head slightly tilted to one side as she caressed his fingers with hers.

The look of devotion in her eyes was beyond everything he had dared hope for and Darcy sighed at the thought that he was not so utterly lost to all sense of shame as to succumb to the temptation to kiss her, then and there. As he could not do that, he pressed his lips against her hands instead.

"Walk with me, Elizabeth," he urged earnestly. "Walk with me and persuade me that I have not dreamt all this!"

She laughed lightly at that.

"I rather concur with the sentiment! Yes, I will walk with you, Mr Darcy. But I should see Jane first! I would not on any account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it from anyone but myself!"

"No, indeed!" he smiled and reluctantly released her hands. "I should say the same about my own sister, in effect. She would be delighted! She thinks very highly of you."

It took them little time to ascertain the whereabouts of Mrs Bingley and Miss Darcy and, upon the butler's recommendation, they repaired to the drawing room, to find the ladies sitting together, in what appeared to be earnest and, for Georgiana, quite animated conversation. Had he not known better, Darcy could have well suspected that it involved either himself or Elizabeth or both, for their sisters had become very quiet and rather conspicuous upon their entrance. The ladies looked up and, by all accounts, lost little time in accurately guessing what was about to be imparted, for Jane smiled brightly at them both, while Georgiana blushed with delighted anticipation. A brief look was exchanged between Elizabeth and himself and, with a smile and a nod, Darcy ceded the floor. Elizabeth went to sit with her sister and his, while Darcy remained standing at her side.

"I hope you would both be pleased to know that Mr Darcy and I have just become engaged," Elizabeth announced, to everyone's delight and utter lack of surprise.

In other circumstances, a flurry of questions would have followed from either side, had they been alone with their respective sibling, but as it was, both Mrs Bingley and Miss Darcy expressed only their great joy at the intelligence, in the full knowledge that the details will have to wait.

"Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight!" Jane added, with great fondness. "Have you shared your news with my husband?"

"Oh, yes - very much so!" was Darcy's succinct reply as he pursed his lips and, hands behind his back, walked over to the mantelpiece.

Somewhat puzzled, Mrs Bingley cast a glance towards her sister, just in time to notice a sparkle of mischievous amusement in her eyes, before she looked away to conceal a smile. It was quite obvious that there was rather more to the matter than Mr Darcy was prepared to let on, but Jane held her peace, knowing that, if there was a story to be told, she would undoubtedly hear it soon enough.

"Are we to return to town soon, then, Brother?" Georgiana asked.

"That I cannot say. We have not, as yet, discussed any of the details, but ..."

He turned to Elizabeth with a smile, quick to recognise the opportunity to excuse themselves.

"I daresay now would be as good a time as any. Would you care to take a turn with me, Miss Bennet, so that we might resolve upon such matters?"

Elizabeth agreed with alacrity and, before too long, they were able to walk away from the house and from those whose society, although delightful at any other time, was at the moment hardly indispensable to their felicity. Little or no time was spent, however, in making plans for the future. The novelty of their declared attachment and the happiness their current situation produced was much more likely to occupy their minds. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Elizabeth found herself devoid of both the ability and the inclination to say much. She was, however, more than happy to listen, and he told her of feelings which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

There was a great deal he could not speak of, and what was better left unsaid weighed on him, but there was nothing to it.

He could not mention the many months that he had longed for her, nor should he speak of the prideful obstinacy that had kept him away. But he could tell her everything else.

It was entirely out of character, he knew, for him to bare his soul in like fashion. Never one for loquaciousness, he had always mistrusted or despised abundance of words, as a sign of disingenuousness or, at best, a weak understanding - with the notable exceptions of his cousin and Bingley. As for the inclination to talk of one's emotions, it was, he had found, more often than not in reverse proportion to the depth of one's feeling. And yet, the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for Elizabeth was effortlessly forthcoming. It was natural and just. He could speak of his thoughts. His hopes. His passionate admiration and regard. He could tell her that, for a long time now, she had been with him wherever he went. In town and elsewhere, and above all, at Pemberley. That he had long felt she belonged there, to give a new breath of life to the only place he truly could call home. That it would be one of his greatest joys to be able to take her to Pemberley at last.

Elizabeth had looked up for a moment at this, before observing quietly, almost hesitantly.

"You forget that I have already been to Pemberley..."

"Yes. So you have..." Darcy replied uncomfortably, unwelcome recollections suddenly intruding to cast dark shadows over the moment's brightness.

"I have yet to see a place more happily situated," Elizabeth offered, in an attempt to draw him from his unpleasant musings, as she could not but think that it was much too soon to discuss that unfortunate chain of events, of which he was, by now, undoubtedly well informed.

"I wish I had been there to welcome you," he replied wistfully, but abruptly ceased speaking as, to his surprise and not insubstantial pleasure, a small hand came to rest on his sleeve in an affectionate offer of comfort. He lifted his eyes towards her, only to see the most charming blush overspreading her countenance.

"You will be," she whispered at last and breath caught in his throat at the overwhelming thought.

She had agreed to be his wife. She will be with him, always.

Mistress of his house, mother of his children, his joy and his purpose, for the rest of their days.

His hand came up to caress her cheek, almost by its own volition.

"You have made me so happy, Elizabeth, so very, very happy... Words fail me..."

He stopped. There was nothing left for him to say about the light she had brought to his life, nothing that she did not know already. Slowly, tentatively, his lips found hers in a light and very gentle kiss, nothing more than the briefest touch. A warm puff of air brushed against his face as she gave a little sigh of surprise. He swallowed, hard, and reluctantly withdrew, just far enough to search her eyes for her response and further consent. A rosy hue crept back into her cheeks and her lips slowly curled into a vague, misty smile, before she stood on tiptoe to close the distance between them.

For now, there was no further need for words.

~ * ~

Elizabeth ran up the stairs towards her own chamber to dress. They had been walking for hours, quite predictably oblivious to their surroundings, their direction and the time. Under the circumstances, it was nothing short of wonderful that they happened to be within reasonable distance of the house when it was time for dinner, without the embarrassment and imposition of a search party!

She laughed aloud at the absurdity of her own reflections, a bright, sparkling little peal of laughter that seemed to uncontrollably burst forth from the unexpected, boundless happiness that had become her life. She reached the upper floor and covered her mouth in passing embarrassment as her eyes suddenly rested on Georgiana, already dressed for dinner and ready to make her way downstairs.

"Forgive me, I was..."

She stopped. There was little she could say.

In the clouds? Utterly, completely in love with your brother? Happier than ever?

To her surprise, Georgiana put her arms around her in a quick but very warm embrace.

"Thank you, Elizabeth!" she exclaimed earnestly. "I have never seen Fitzwilliam as happy in my entire life!"

"Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth asked, rather puzzled.

The Colonel? What had he to do with it?

"My brother," Georgiana replied with a rather odd look and Elizabeth blushed at the sudden thought that it was probably for the first time she had heard Mr Darcy referred to by his Christian name. She had had no cause to, previously, of course, and it engendered a small smile of surprise to think that she had known the gentleman for about ten or eleven months now, she had promised herself in marriage to him that very morning, and yet it was only then that she had learned his name. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

It suits him, she thought. It had... resonance. And distinction. And charm. In point of fact, it appeared to her that it held all that she knew of him, all in one name.

"What's in a name?"(*)

The beauty of the long-ago learned lines returned to her, bringing back memories of a very young girl, no more than fifteen years of age, curled up with the revered tome in a large chair by the window, in her father's library.

"... that which we call a rose, / By any other name would smell as sweet;" (*)

That's as may be! Elizabeth thought, amused to discover that she could not quite imagine him having any other name, come to think of it.

"'Fitzwilliam' was my mother's maiden name, as you probably have guessed by now," Georgiana explained further, bringing Elizabeth back from her reverie. "Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, as was," she added with a small sigh which found its way into Elizabeth's heart, as she remembered the intelligence acquired last autumn, that Miss Darcy had lost her mother in her infancy, and then her father, almost six years ago. Suddenly, her mind conjured up the picture of the fair-haired young girl of ten and her very solemn elder brother, living alone in that beautiful but much too quiet house and depending solely on each other for every ounce of warmth and happiness and comfort.

The poignancy of the picture tore at her heart. And not for the first time, she wished him all the happiness that was his just desert, and hoped it would be in her power to ensure that it would be his to enjoy.

(*)William Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II

~ * ~

There could not have been a greater contrast between the dismal atmosphere at dinner the night before, and the festive air that surrounded their small party gathered around the table, in an almost palpable halo of joy. There was none of the hesitant, faltering discourse, none of the heavy cloak of discomfort that had hung above and stifled them.

The seating arrangements were once more a credit to Mrs Bingley's good sense, for this time Darcy and Elizabeth were placed next to each other, close enough to be acutely and unsettlingly aware of each other's presence. Neither were inclined to say much. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth and as for Elizabeth, the novelty of their understanding, their doubtless felicity, measured against what the reverse had been, was enough to keep her mind so busily engaged that she did not always know when she was silent.

By mutual agreement, they have not separated after dinner and the evening passed in enjoyable, light-hearted conversation, carried mostly by the Bingleys and Fitzwiliam, with occasional contributions from Georgiana.

After a while, Elizabeth agreed to play for the company, although she could not, by any means, be prevailed upon to sing. It came as no surprise to anyone when Darcy offered to sit with her and turn the pages and no-one but Georgiana was able to tell that, occasionally, the tempo was not quite what it should have been, particularly towards the end of the page. Fortunately, thorough knowledge of music was lacking amongst the rest of the party. To them, the fact that no false notes were played was quite enough to satisfy.

Elizabeth could not remain at the instrument above a half-hour, as the effort of sparing some attention to the music in order to ensure a tolerable performance was proving more taxing than she would have thought. Darcy's presence at her elbow was - she found - thoroughly distracting. Delectably so, but distracting nevertheless.

She eventually put the music sheets away and allowed him to reluctantly escort her back to the others, where she took a seat next to Georgiana, quite happy to be delectably distracted by his person while doing nothing more demanding than chatting to his sister.

Darcy, followed by the rest of the party, soon joined in their conversation and they spoke of books and music and Pemberley and town, of plays and concerts and little childhood memories, favourite walks and favourite places and before they knew it, the hour to retire had come and gone. Eventually, with no small amount of surprise, Elizabeth noticed the time, and also, with substantial guilt, Jane's drawn countenance. Hastily, she rose and declared herself ready to retire and Georgiana soon followed suit.

Darcy escorted them both to the bottom of the stairs and followed them with his eyes, as the young ladies dearest to his heart ascended to the upper floor, arms linked and laughing softly at something or other. When she reached the landing, Elizabeth turned to smile at him and Darcy bowed in return, very deeply. Then, as soon as she disappeared from sight, he gave a short, impatient huff and repaired to the games' room in search for an occupation - and some of his friend's brandy, with any luck.

He found the latter without any difficulty and was pondering the wisdom of honing his skills at the billiards table, when Fitzwilliam walked into the room, from the darkened hallway.

"Cousin."

"Richard."

Fitzwilliam advanced towards him with his hand outstretched.

"I am happy for you. I wish you joy" he said, simply.

There was nothing more to say. Everything else had been said already.

Darcy put down his glass and shook the proffered hand as he nodded his thanks and the understanding of the sentiment. To the utter amazement of both, Fitzwilliam's arm went about his cousin's shoulders in a tight and very brief clasp, before the Colonel awkwardly turned away.

"Yes, well!" he huffed, as he cleared his voice. "Care for a game, Darcy?"

"Shortly, yes, I thank you," his cousin replied, not altogether recovered from his astonishment.

They must have been no more than boys last time either of them had even considered such an open manifestation of their brotherly affection, despite their acknowledged closeness. It was simply not done, nor was it in the nature of either. And yet, on this occasion at least, it had not been out of place. On the contrary. It had been heart-warming and oddly reassuring.

Darcy cleared his voice as well before retrieving his glass.

"I was actually hoping to have a word with Bingley," he owned. "Or has he retired?"

"No, I should imagine not. I believe he said he will join us shortly."

"Brandy?"

"No, I'd rather not, I thank you. I think I shall settle for port instead."

Fitzwilliam accepted a glass from his cousin and lowered himself in one of the chairs. He was about to ask Darcy about his plans for returning to town to inform their relations of his engagement, but thought better of it. It was not a pleasant prospect, for a variety of reasons, and there had been quite enough unpleasant discussions between them lately. For once, their silence was companionable as they both toyed with their drinks, more or less lost in their own thoughts.

"Oh! I thought you had both retired for the night!" Bingley's cheerful voice brought them back.

Fitzwilliam stood.

"No, not as such. I was in some danger of drifting off to sleep in your billiards room, though," he quipped, as he turned to place his empty glass on a nearby table.

"Not to be encouraged," Bingley laughed. "Will you not join me for a game instead? Darcy?" he enquired of his friend as well, as he divested himself of his dinner jacket.

Fitzwilliam agreed and went to select a cue, but Darcy declined once more. He came to stand at the end of the billiard table, swilling his brandy in his glass and wondering how he could possibly work the question foremost on his mind into casual conversation. It did not take him long to resolve that it could not be done, so he sipped his drink, then came straight to the point.

"You would not happen to know whose consent I should be seeking, Bingley? I did not wish to enquire it of Miss Bennet - or Mrs Bingley, for that matter. Hardly sensitive, by all accounts."

"Consent?" his friend asked, intent upon lining up his shot.

"Yes. Consent. To marry Miss Bennet. Not yours, I daresay, despite the fact that your recent displays of brotherly concern tends to indicate the contrary," he added, slightly put out by his friend's apparent obtuseness, as well as his untimely interference over the last couple of days.

Bingley looked up with a laugh at the novel though of acting the part of the figure of authority to his not much older, but substantially more imposing friend. He shook his head. Not an irony his sister Caroline would have appreciated! He took his shot, then offered, in like-for-like retribution for Darcy's display of temper.

"Have you considered their cousin? Mr Collins?"

Darcy all but choked on his brandy.

"You are not in earnest, Bingley, I hope!"

Of all the unpleasant, weasel-like creatures... The thought of having to approach that man to ask for her hand, of him having that sort of power over Elizabeth almost made him shudder.

"I was rather hoping it was Mrs Bennet, or their uncle Gardiner..." he added, but to his disappointment, Bingley shook his head.

"I should not wish for Mr Gardiner, if I were you. He was not particularly disposed in your favour the other day, when they left Netherfield to return to town..."

Of course. Farringdon. Will the deuced notion forever come to haunt him?

Bingley abandoned his cue and walked to his friend.

"Elizabeth is of age, Darcy," he finally, mercifully, disclosed. "You need not concern yourself with their consent. I would advise, though," he added, with no trace of the earlier banter, "that you make your peace with the Gardiners, as soon as may be. I can assure you that, amongst their relations, it is them that both Jane and Elizabeth feel the closest kinship to."

Darcy nodded, uncomfortably. He did not need Bingley's assurances to ascertain that.

He finished his drink and squared his shoulders.

It had to be done and, one way or another, it shall be, and he saw no reason to lose sleep over it.

He had Elizabeth's consent, and she was of age. That, amongst others, was reason enough.

Chapter 25

When Elizabeth came down for breakfast the following morning, she found Darcy already there. That did not come as a surprise - she knew him to be an early riser. The surprise, nay, the unmitigated joy came from the open look of adoration in his countenance when he stood to greet her, take her hand and lead her to the table to sit across from him.

"May I say that you look lovely this morning?" he whispered close to her ear as he pulled the chair for her to sit and Elizabeth smiled her acceptance of the compliment, as well as her delight at the way the precious moments of privacy were put to use.

Darcy pushed her chair forward and added, with an engaging smile of his own:

"Not that it is the first time I had thought so; but now I am allowed to say as much!"

He walked back to his place and sat, carelessly draping his napkin back in his lap as he did so, and Elizabeth looked on, suddenly overcome by the joyful notion that she will see him doing just that, every blissful morning, for the rest of their lives.

She took a muffin from the plate offered her and buttered it, considering the danger of turning into a swooning miss at the mere sight of him. No, perhaps not swooning, not quite.

That would be too much of a change!

The thought brought an impish smile to her lips and Darcy put down his coffee at the sight.

"Should I ask what appears to amuse you so?"

"No, I daresay you should not," she replied in kind as she poured herself some tea.

"It is of no consequence, then. I find that I am perfectly satisfied to merely witness the effects."

At her uncomprehending look, he leaned forward slightly and whispered,

"This is the vision that has captured my heart, Elizabeth, within moments of making your acquaintance. This lovely smile, and that look in your eyes..."

She blushed at the compliment and at the surprise that the ever so private Mr Darcy would say anything of the sort at the breakfast table! Not that he could have been overheard by the footman busying himself with the serving dishes at the other end of the room. However, she would have thought him wary of such displays. She glanced up, the warmth in her eyes an open acknowledgement that the surprise was in every way pleasant.

And then another thought intruded. Within moments of making her acquaintance? She almost arched her brows - but succeeded in refraining from doing so, just as she refrained from mentioning the Meryton Assembly. There was too much delightful novelty in this, the first private breakfast of their engagement, as well as in the open avowal of his affection, and she had no wish to ruin the joy of the moment, for either of them, merely for the sake of a witticism.

She dabbed her lips with the napkin to conceal the traitorous smile. There will numerous other opportunities, no doubt, to teaze him about having deemed her merely 'tolerable'!

Blissfully unaware of her thoughts, Darcy returned to his coffee.

"What would you care to do today?" he asked as he did so.

"There is a wide difference between what I would like to do and what I should do," she laughed. "I would like to take a long stroll to Oakham Mount, but I fear I should busy myself with writing to my family instead..."

His countenance sobered.

"Your family. Yes... Would you think..." he began, but then checked himself, knowing all too well that the subject was too sensitive to be discussed at the breakfast table. Pas devant les domestiques, of course. Not to mention that the others were likely to join them very soon.

"Would you think there might be time for that after a walk?" he rephrased the question. "I must confess to a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount," he added with a slight smile, which Elizabeth did not quite know what to make of. She had no further occasion to enquire into its meaning, as the parlour door was opened and Georgiana and the Colonel made their appearance.

The rest of the breakfast was pleasant, although rather subdued, as none of the four occupants of the room were particularly inclined towards general conversation. It would have been different, of course, had Mr and Mrs Bingley joined them, but on that occasion they had not. It was only sometime later that a message was delivered to Elizabeth, to inform her that her sister was rather unwell, and that Mr Bingley was sending his apologies, but had chosen to forego the morning repast, under the circumstances.

Elizabeth repaired to Mrs Bingley's chambers as soon as she received the intelligence, only to find her resting, her face haggard and drawn, and decidedly paler than usual. Quite anxious, she came to sit by the side of the bed and took her hand.

"Dearest! You do not look well! Has Mr Jones been called?"

Jane gave a weak but genuinely amused smile.

"Do not trouble yourself, Lizzy. It is nothing out of the common way," she said, but at her sister's clearly puzzled look, Jane felt she ought to elaborate. "I was given to understand that it is quite common to experience such discomfort... in my condition."

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed, awkwardly. "I see!"

She blushed, feeling very foolish.

"Is there anything that I could get you? Anything I could do?"

Jane shook her head ever so slightly.

"No. Do not concern yourself. It will pass soon enough. And Mr Jones assured me that, in most cases, it disappears altogether, after the first few months."

Jane closed her eyes again and Elizabeth reached to rearrange her quilt and smooth her hair, then took her hand, smiling at the memory of tending to her dear sister in almost the same fashion, all those months ago. The room became perfectly quiet, the silence only barely disturbed a little later, when the door opened slowly to admit the master of the house.

"She is sleeping now, I believe," Elizabeth whispered, in response to Bingley's wordless query.

"No, she is not," Jane replied, opening her eyes. She turned away from her sister to smile at her husband and offer him her hand. Bingley readily took it, such a look of affection and concern in his countenance as to make Elizabeth feel very much de trop. She stood and excused herself, bemusedly and somewhat wistfully aware that over and above being her sister, Jane was now Bingley's wife. She closed the door quietly, her exit barely acknowledged, knowing very well that despite her own rather discomfiting and unexpected sense of loss, she could not by any means begrudge her sister the obvious desire for the exclusive company of the man she loved.

She looked up with a smile as it came to her that she would have done the same, then turned to descend the wide staircase and make her way towards the drawing room and, failing that, the library, where hopefully the man of her choice was to be found.

She did not need to look beyond the drawing room. Mr Darcy was there, and so was Georgiana.

His countenance lit up at her sight and he rose to meet her.

"How did you find your sister?" he enquired, his genuine concern for Jane warming her heart.

"Quite adamant that she is not truly ill, merely in need of some rest," Elizabeth replied with a conscious smile, trying not to blush. She had no notion whether her brother had chosen to inform his best friend of the true state of affairs, but even so, it was hardly appropriate to comment upon it, so she endeavoured to change the subject: "I see the Colonel is not with you."

"My cousin," Darcy said good-humouredly, "has very strict notions about the beneficial nature of early morning exercise. He rides most mornings, at the same hour, with military precision."

Elizabeth laughed.

"In that case, I hope he would not mind to find us all gone, when he returns!"

"Gone?" Georgiana repeated, in some surprise.

"Your brother had expressed a great curiosity to admire the view from Oakham Mount. I was hoping you would care to join us," Elizabeth replied with a genuinely welcoming smile and was not altogether surprised to see her future sister fidget, in blushing discomfort.

"I... should not wish to... that is, a long walk might be..." Georgiana stopped, not at all sure how to politely phrase her reluctance to intrude upon their privacy.

To her relief, her brother came and took her hand.

"It is not too long a walk, dearest," he reassured.

Much as he would have liked to have Elizabeth all to himself, not least because there were matters to address, he would not have wished to abandon Georgiana to her own devices, and was grateful to Elizabeth for taking pains to include her in the morning's plans.

"No, not too long at all!" Elizabeth concurred. "And not too strenuous, either. There is an incline at the end, but I daresay it is a poor match for what you must be used to. It affords a fair prospect over the valley, though, and over Netherfield. And sometimes, in early autumn, one can even see reckless young men engaging in merry pursuits, such as break-neck races over unfamiliar fields," she added with a saucy look towards her intended.

Darcy returned a blank, puzzled stare at first and then, to her amusement, she could see understanding dawning, at the sudden revival of a distant memory. His eyebrows shot up and a warm look suffused his countenance, as Darcy considered the thought of Elizabeth there, somewhere, ensconced in the unfamiliar countryside, observing their chase towards Netherfield as though from behind the looking-glass - the as yet unknown young woman who, before too long, was to command his affections beyond anything he would have thought imaginable.

"All in all, a rather pleasant stroll, I daresay. A favourite of mine, any time of year," Elizabeth added mischievously, before turning to Miss Darcy to advise her on the sort of footwear the local paths required.

By mutual agreement, they met in the hallway sometime later, ready to depart. Elizabeth had left word for her relations and for the Colonel as to their whereabouts, along with the suggestion that they would, in all probability, not return for luncheon.

The day was rather overcast but with no real threat of rain, so they proceeded with reasonable confidence towards their intended destination. They did not talk much, largely because the thoughts occupying the minds of the newly engaged couple were not of the sort to be disclosed to a third party. As for Miss Darcy, although the current company was not of the nature to intimidate her into silence, she very much felt the awkwardness of her own situation.

After a while, as they emerged from the woodland bordering the park on the eastern side, the prospect opened, providing some opportunities for innocuous conversation. Elizabeth was able to point out the direction towards Meryton, of which only the tall church spire was noticeable in the distance, the boundaries of neighbouring estates, and after a while, the path to Longbourn.

Of the opinion that at least some of the matters which required resolution could be discussed in Georgiana's presence without undue discomfort to anyone - and as the reference to her former family home provided a satisfactory opening, Darcy asked:

"Do you intend to write your relations about our engagement, or would you prefer to tell them in person?"

"In truth, I do not know..."

It was only partially true. She knew it would be best if she announced their engagement in person, particularly to her uncle and aunt Gardiner, but she was extremely reluctant to leave Netherfield as yet. Were she to return to town, she would be expected to trade his almost constant company for that of her mother and Mrs Jennings or, at best, her aunt's, and the more she thought on it, the least attractive a prospect it became. She loved her aunt Gardiner dearly and she knew there were many disclosures to be made, in order to reconcile her aunt and uncle with her choice, but she did not feel equal to embark upon it so soon. It was only the day before that they have come to an understanding, and she could not bear to be parted from him yet!

"What is your opinion, Sir?" she enquired and, to her rueful amusement, it appeared that a decided opinion on the matter was not going to be forthcoming from Darcy any more than from herself.

"I do believe our relations deserve the courtesy of being informed in person," his honourable nature eventually compelled him to own. "However, I must confess myself in no haste whatsoever to return to town."

"No more than I..." Elizabeth replied softly and blushed at the thought of a conversation with such intimate undertones being conducted in his sister's presence. Georgiana was walking ahead of them though, as the path did not admit more than two, her determination to progress at a decidedly faster pace than her companions a testament to her discretion.

And then a salutary thought occurred to Elizabeth. She could not travel to town as yet, surely!

It would have been highly insensitive to demand it of Jane, when her health was so indifferent, and she could not very well travel unescorted, or escorted by Darcy and his sister. At no more than sixteen, Georgiana could hardly be regarded as adequate chaperone! Elizabeth told herself, in the full knowledge that should there be a real desire to travel to town, there were many ways in which it could be accomplished. Her sister Mary and her husband could travel with her - but even as the thought occurred, Elizabeth almost shuddered to think of willingly depriving herself of Darcy's company in exchange for that of Mr Collins.

She aimlessly plucked at tall grasses growing alongside the path and gave a little shrug. She will have to write her relations after all. Her mother will be thrilled, regardless of the fashion in which she received the communication and, although fond of her mother - as anyone would be, differences notwithstanding - Elizabeth could not help but rejoice at the prospect of being miles apart when the first raptures of joy were to be heard.

Her uncle and aunt were a different matter altogether and Elizabeth knew that she would have to write a very good letter indeed to appropriately address the subject. Perhaps they could be persuaded to return to Netherfield, particularly as their northern tour had been cut short. Her uncle was a very busy man, but perhaps he would be inclined to put the time regained there to a different use. He would undoubtedly be keen to meet with the gentleman responsible for the curtailment of his summer travels, Elizabeth thought with a rueful and decidedly uncomfortable smile, particularly as the very same man was now intent upon marrying his dear niece.

Elizabeth brushed her hands together to shake the blades of grass from her gloves.

It could not be helped. She will write to them, as coherently and convincingly as she could, and assure them of the strength of their attachment, and somehow persuade them that she knew full well what she was about. They will get to know him, in time, and undoubtedly grow to value him and finally accept her choice. How could they not? His past dealings with her family could give her uncle and aunt pause, but they will come to see beyond that, soon. They will see his kindness and loyalty, his diligent and unwavering concern for the well-being of all those who found themselves under his guardianship, his gentleness and devotion to her. They will understand that he could well be - that he was - the only man in the world whom she could ever wish to marry.

Mr Darcy... Fitzwilliam Darcy... "Fitzwilliam..."

"?!... Yes...?"

At the sound of his voice, Elizabeth started. She had not just said his name aloud... had she?

Blushing to the hairline, she cast a sidelong glance in his direction, only to be met with a look of delighted wonder and one of the warmest expressions ever to grace his countenance at the intimacy her unprompted use of his Christian name engendered, as well as the incontrovertible proof that she had been thinking of him. There was no doubt in her mind that, had it not been for Georgiana's presence but ten steps ahead, she would have been in his arms by now. As it was, he only took her hand, the lifeless texture of gloves a source of acute discontentment to both.

"You are my joy and my delight, every day," he said suddenly, in a low feeling voice. "And every day there is another source of wonder, and yet another reason to love you more!"

She looked down, overcome by the avowed strength of his regard, and even more so to find it mirrored by her own. It was... it would have been amusing to note, had she felt so inclined, how colourless and flat and pale her expectations of how marrying for love would feel, compared to... this. This over-encompassing, incredible feeling, this earnest wish to share every moment and every thought and every thing... This desire to proclaim herself, audibly and unabashedly, to all who would listen, the happiest creature in the world. Others have said so before, but not one with such justice! Despite the disappointing barrier of gloves, Elizabeth tightened the hold of her own hand on his fingers, and returned such a look of joy as to make him wonder how was he to bear it until he could kiss her again.

Their walk had been long and pleasant, despite the lack of privacy that the couple would have wished for. Nevertheless, they both cared for Georgiana, and the day was dry, the path was good, and the prospect, when they had reached the top of the mount, was worthy of their exertions.

As they paused to look around at the tranquil beauty of the southern countryside, so different form the windswept wilderness he was accustomed to, Darcy turned towards the remarkable young woman who had agreed to be his wife. The rosy hue of exercise brightened her complexion, her eyes sparkled, and a distant, almost wistful smile curled up the corners of her slightly parted lips. He sighed.

"I am sorry," he said quietly.

Elizabeth turned towards him with a bemused laugh.

"Whatever for?!"

"For taking you away from this. You will miss it, I know..."

He stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that he had already been instrumental in her removal from these parts. He sighed and bit his lip. They will have to discuss Farringdon before too long. Now was, quite obviously, not the time. Georgiana's presence precluded it, of course, but even had they been alone, he did not feel equal to it.

His chain of decidedly unpleasant thoughts was broken by the light touch of her gloved hand on his, as she turned to him and smiled.

"I thank you..."

He stared, quite unable to comprehend whatever he had done to deserve her thanks, given the circumstances. He said nothing though, and she continued.

"Yes, I do not doubt I shall miss this, after a fashion. It is - was - my home. But," she added quietly, "it should not weigh on you. I would not follow where I do not wish to go!"

Darcy took a deep breath at this and covered her hand with his own, in the full knowledge that they had to return to this spot. Soon - and sometimes alone.

By the time they had returned from their walk, it was rather too late for luncheon and much too early for dinner. They repaired to the drawing room, only to find it empty. Elizabeth was soon informed that Mrs Bingley had left word that the rest of the party could be found in the conservatory and thither they went, all three in decided need of some refreshment.

To Elizabeth's delight, her sister looked her usual self, animation and colour restored to her cheek, as though nothing had ever been amiss. She had felt very much recovered soon enough, had enjoyed a light luncheon, Mrs Bingley said, and was now amusing herself with her embroidery and her book as the gentlemen were playing piquet at the nearby table.

Refreshment was ordered and served, and after a while Mr Bingley had prevailed upon Darcy and his cousin to join him in a pre-dinner game of billiards. Some time later, when Georgiana retired to dress, Elizabeth found herself alone with her sister.

"Are you truly recovered, dearest?" Elizabeth asked, as soon as they were assured of privacy.

"Very much so, Lizzy, do not be concerned! In truth, it occurs much less frequently now, and it does not last as long as it used to. I have great hopes to be quite free of it before too long!"

"And is there nothing you could take to bring you some relief?"

"Not as such... Mr Jones had recommended some remedies, but they hardly ever work..."

"I daresay Mamma might have been able to help with a suggestion or two..." Elizabeth pondered, but it was for naught as, to the best of her knowledge, only three people - four, with the apothecary - were informed of Jane's condition, and Mrs Bennet was not yet one of them. "When were you planning to tell, Jane?" she asked, as she took her sister's hand.

Jane pressed it lightly.

"In point of fact, I was just considering that, earlier today..." she smiled. "I spoke to Charles about this idea I had and he thinks it sensible, but as it involves you as well, I ought to ask for your thoughts on the matter..."

"How could it involve me?" Elizabeth asked, surprised in no small measure.

"I was pondering whether I should write our mother and persuade her and Kitty - and maybe our uncle and aunt as well - to return to Netherfield. Then Charles and I can share our news, as I do not think we should announce it to Mamma in a letter..."

Elizabeth blushed. It was so like Jane to be so considerate - and it did not show her in too good a light. She had no reservations about announcing her own news in that fashion! However, the circumstances were hardly similar, she thought. Jane's intelligence was several weeks old. Hers was as new as one day. Perhaps she would then be forgiven for her different views on the matter!

And then Mrs Bingley resumed speaking, and made her sister feel much better.

"After that, you might share yours, if you wish it, and Mr Darcy concurs. Since the intelligence we have to impart is equally... momentous, there is reason to hope that none of us would be overcome by the... fullness of her attention. What say you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth had to laugh at that. And also had to agree. It was her sister and her brother's choice, after all, how was their news to be announced, and when was her mother to be invited at Netherfield.

She would have wished, however, that the world and her own duties would not intrude upon her new-found happiness so soon... Her mother will have to be told, of course, and should Jane and Charles be instrumental in bringing Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to Netherfield as well, so much the better, but there was no doubt that with their arrival, great many things would change. The ease, the unalloyed happiness will necessarily be replaced by reserve and constraint, and sometimes mortification at her mother's ill-judged comments. Perhaps she should encourage Mr Darcy to visit his relations in town and announce their engagement, Elizabeth thought, only partly in jest, before she told herself that he must have necessarily accustomed himself by now with the notion that he will, for all intents and purposes, become related to her family.

To Elizabeth's not insubstantial relief, though, her sister added:

"I was of the opinion, of course, that I need not write directly... Perhaps in a week or two? And then your news would come at the right time, not too late and, within reason, not too soon... for anyone. Any such delay is of little consequence to my intelligence, of course. I am uncomfortable with having kept it from Mamma, in any case, but it had to be done, if I wanted to be assured of a modicum of secrecy... Hopefully she will not take it to heart!"

"Dearest Jane!" Elizabeth replied, as she took her sister in a warm embrace, to reassure her and, in equal measure, to thank her for the thoughtful and generous respite.

Before the evening was out, the course of action was agreed upon. Mrs Bingley would write her letter and send it at her leisure. Then, should their mother be amenable to the scheme, the Bingley carriage will be sent for her, unless the Gardiners could be prevailed upon to return into Hertfordshire so soon.

Not having had an opportunity for private discourse with her intended, Elizabeth could not be certain of his opinion on the matter, but he had appeared to listen with tolerable composure as such plans were formulated. With a small rueful smile, Elizabeth resolved to do all she could to reward his forbearance with her best efforts to shield him from the notice of her mother and Aunt Phillips, and keep him to herself and to those of her family with whom he might converse without mortification. As she looked around that evening at the small party of like-minded people gathered together in the tastefully furnished drawing room and enjoying the quiet pleasure of amiable and well-informed conversation, Elizabeth could not but regret that the intimate, friendly atmosphere will soon come to an end.

It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. For now, at least, she had her wish. She could sit across from Mr Darcy and see him conversing affably and quite animatedly with Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, his open and good-humoured countenance a clear sign of his present enjoyment. And then he would turn towards her, the almost palpable warmth of his devotion making her blush as she could not help but respond in kind, before looking away.

By the time he had concluded his conversation and had come to sit with her, Elizabeth was quite resolved to delight in the first fortnight of their acknowledged courtship and spare not another thought on the time when additions to the current party would descend upon Netherfield.

The future would most assuredly look after itself. Now it was time to be thankful for the present.

Chapter 26

They were the first in the breakfast parlour again that morning, by habit and, truth be told, also by design, and the intimacy of it delighted them both with the promise of mornings to come.

The quietly domestic joy of sitting together - they had taken up the habit of sharing the same side of the table by now - talking of anything and everything and serving each other as the meal progressed gave them both a much-cherished glimpse into how future mornings of their married life could be.

Learning little endearing details about each other was as enjoyable as the privacy itself.

She knew by now that his first drink of the day would be a cup of black coffee, with just one lump of sugar, but should he have the time and inclination to dally over breakfast - which, from what she could ascertain, he never used to, and was happy to see him very much inclined to do so now - he would follow it with a cup of tea or two, with nothing but a dash of milk.

He noticed that she buttered her muffin very lightly, and that she would almost always follow it with fruit. She did not appear to favour pears much, but grapes were a decided preference, along with nectarines and occasionally apples.

She had been occasioned to learn that he would hardly ever have any preserve, except perhaps marmalade and sometimes quince jam, if any was served, and that he would spread it sparingly but ever so thoroughly.

And every morning that they shared their intimate breakfast, she would bask in the warmth of his love, and bless her dear brother's notion of ever taking a house in Hertfordshire.

~ * ~

On that particular morning, Mr Bingley made an appearance much earlier than was his wont. Usually, about a half-hour into their breakfast, Georgiana would join them - and Elizabeth was almost convinced, without the opportunity of having her suspicion confirmed, that she would normally take her breakfast much earlier, but would choose to delay her appearance, in order to allow her brother some privacy with his betrothed. Shortly afterwards, and only occasionally before Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam would join them as well.

In the very first mornings, Elizabeth had noticed that the Colonel did not appear inclined to talk much and that, for some unfathomable reason, his main preoccupation appeared to covertly study her own interaction with Darcy. She had suspected initially that he did not approve of her, but had to relinquish that notion very shortly, as Fitzwilliam's demeanour towards her had been nothing but amiable and welcoming. In the end, she had to concede she could not fully ascertain the Colonel's reasons for observing them, but was pleased to note after a while that he had ceased doing so and had returned instead to what appeared to be his usual voluble self.

To her great pleasure and not insubstantial surprise - for, never having had any brothers of her own, Elizabeth had no experience of young men's interaction - she would often witness highly amusing moments of light-hearted banter between the cousins - usually when Georgiana was either not present or her attention otherwise engaged - and the change in Darcy at times such as these was in equal measure unexpected and delightful. It was as though she was allowed treasured glimpses into his much younger years, before he had become the solemn, reserved gentleman that she had met at the Meryton Assembly, and the picture he presented was for Elizabeth exhilarating. She had been occasioned to learn, particularly during their more recent acquaintance, that he displayed a different persona to strangers, as opposed to what his family and close friends saw. Yet nothing so far had prepared her for that side of him that was not adverse to showing a keen and sometimes incisive sense of humour - very much like her own father's, in point of fact - and, quite unexpectedly, an inclination to laugh and being laughed at which she would not have thought possible.

After a fashion, revelations such as these went a long way in making Elizabeth guess what might have prompted Darcy to fall in love with her in the first place. Her beauty he had early withstood, and as for her manners, her behaviour towards him had almost always bordered on the uncivil. She might as well call it impertinence at once! It was very little less. In all probability, he was sick of civility, of deference, of officious attentions. He was disgusted by women who were always speaking for his approbation alone. She had roused and interested him because she was so unlike them. Had he not been really amiable, he would have hated her for it. But in spite of the pains he took to disguise himself, Elizabeth thought with a light laugh, his feelings had always been noble and just, and in his heart he had thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted him.

Darcy's voice at her elbow almost made her start.

"I do apologise," she replied, not insubstantially amused at her own inattention. "Would you mind repeating your question, Mr Darcy?"

"Bingley and I were merely wondering about your thoughts on the ball..."

"The ball ?!?"

"In honour of your engagement, soon after the rest of your family arrives, as I have just mentioned...?" Mr Bingley prompted her gently, an affectionate gleam in his eyes.

"Pray forgive me, Charles! I was not attending!"

"I am glad to hear it!" her brother replied with a laugh. "For a moment I was afraid that you did not approve! Your sister had thought of it this morning, and I think it is a splendid notion. There had not been a ball at Netherfield since... Why, since you were both here last! Everyone would want to wish you joy, as soon as they hear of your engagement, and I see no better way to have it publicly announced. Unless of course you have come round to Darcy's way of thinking regarding the amusement in general," Bingley teazed, and Elizabeth answered with a light laugh in which, to her surprised pleasure, Darcy joined her.

"I should hope not, particularly as my own views have had material reasons to change!"

Elizabeth held his gaze, remembering their first and only dance, so long ago. The mere fact that he had chosen to stand up with her had come as a great surprise at the time. Now, looking back on it, she could not help but wonder whether he had done so because he was already partial to her, even then. It was, by far, the most sensible explanation, yet she could still scarce credit it, particularly as his demeanour at the time had not given the slightest indication that he might regard her with anything but indifference!

In return for his smile, she offered a pensive one of her own, before his good-humoured tones brought her back to the present.

"Speaking of which, I would like to take this opportunity, Miss Bennet, to engage you for the first set!"

"Indeed! Are you not too hasty, Sir?" she quipped in response. "I do believe that the day of the ball has not even been settled!"

"Jane was considering the last week in September," Bingley offered in passing and Elizabeth turned towards him in some disquiet.

"So soon! But will she be equal to..."

She checked herself, unwilling to openly discuss whether the exertions attendant to preparing an event of this magnitude in barely four weeks should be undertaken by her sister, in view of her current state of health.

Bingley met her eye and acknowledged her unspoken question with a slight move of his head.

"I must admit to some concern myself, but your sister and Nicholls are both of the opinion that it can be done. They maintain that it would be little more than a repetition of preparations done last year, of which our dear Nichols claims to have kept good records."

Elizabeth smiled her acceptance of that, quite resolved to assist her sister in any way she could.

"Has Jane already written our mother, do you know?"

"I am almost certain she has not. Now, of course, we shall send invitation to the ball instead. Needless to say, the true reason for the festivities will not be disclosed until the family congregates at Netherfield and are informed of it in person..."

Bingley looked up from his breakfast, wondering whether it would be appropriate, under the circumstances, to extend an invitation to members of his friend's family as well. It was a rather difficult business. There was no doubt that the Earl of Matlock and his relations moved in very different circles than Charles Bingley, Esq. and an invitations sent them from such a quarter, when he could barely claim an acquaintance with a family of their social standing, might very well be regarded as barefaced impertinence. It would be different, of course, should Darcy inform them himself of his betrothal and its celebration, and Bingley resolved to let the matter rest until he has had a chance to address it with his friend.

He proceeded instead to add to the mental list of prospective guests a number of gentlemen of his and Darcy's acquaintance, large enough to send Mrs Bennet's heart aflutter, should she hear of it before being informed that there was hardly any need for such abundance, as she had but one daughter as yet unspoken for.

The Gardiners were also to be invited, of course, and so was Mrs Jennings, as Mrs Bennet's dearest friend, along with the Miss Dashwoods and their prospective grooms. And everyone who was anyone in and around Meryton, all of the four-and-twenty families that dined and gathered and gossiped together, to everyone's mutual satisfaction.

The Netherfield ball was to be a grand affair indeed!

~ * ~

Shortly after breakfast, Darcy and Elizabeth set out for a leisurely stroll along the fine paths that meandered through the Netherfield grounds. Georgiana and the Colonel had joined them, but before too long, they had declared themselves ready to return to the house, ostensibly to take tea.

Despite the opportunity for private discourse, however, very little was said by either after the others left them. Elizabeth had made several attempts at light conversation at first, but Darcy's obvious preoccupation and - at least in recent days - unusually quiet demeanour soon persuaded her of the necessity to abandon that tack.

"I assume you would wish to talk of Farringdon now," Elizabeth said suddenly, as they turned into one of the walks leading to the shrubbery.

He started and turned towards her.

"No, I do not wish it, not as such, yet it must be done... How did you know it was on my mind?"

"Because had I done something as ... controversial," she smiled in response, "I too would wish to discuss it and put it to rest, so that I could enjoy the season of our courtship."

Darcy stared at her, an unreadable expression in his face, and then his countenance brightened almost beyond recognition as he suddenly started to laugh.

"Elizabeth, you are... Indeed, you have no equal!"

"I am happy to hear it!" she replied with a smile and a quick glance in his direction, before she turned towards one of the stone benches dotted here and there along their walk. She sat and Darcy followed suit, a trace of the light-heartedness they had earlier shared still evident in his countenance. He looked so different when he laughed! Not younger, not necessarily - he never truly looked older than his age, not as such. More handsome, decidedly. More approachable, perhaps - not that she had found it difficult to talk to him at any time, except those dreadful days when, having just discovered her own feelings, she had no hope of having them returned.

Elizabeth soon found her hand cradled in his, as he tentatively began:

"Yes, you are absolutely correct. This shadow between us... I do want it put to rest. I should not withhold anything from you, nor do I wish it..."

"I know. I should imagine that disguise of any sort is your abhorrence..."

Darcy looked up suddenly at that and searched her eyes. There was affectionate amusement there, and yes, perhaps a gentle hint of teasing, but not a shred of malice. He looked down again and resumed tracing light caresses on the fingers ensconced in his palm.

"A great deal has been left unsaid, throughout the course of our acquaintance. It is perhaps too soon for some concerns, and decidedly too late for others. It is... There is everything to be said for honesty. I should not wish for anything else between us... and yet I cannot see the purpose of inflicting unnecessary pain..."

Elizabeth made no answer, and after a while he continued:

"It does not detract from the severity of the transgression, nor does it excuse it, but I would like you to know that no disrespect was ever intended or implied, in the offer of Farringdon. I had persuaded myself at the time that it was for the best. I no longer hold that opinion, needless to say, and there are many months since I heartily wished I had shown better judgement, in many respects. No, not judgement," he amended with a frown. "I have spent an unjustifiably long time doing just that. Sitting in judgement and pondering matters that had very little to do with it..."

He drew a deep breath, knowing all too well that he was rambling. Yet how was he to bring himself to put into words sentiments he had long since come to disown? And moreover, how would such a disclosure not cloud the happiness that they now shared?

He looked away, as though to find the strength to say the words:

"Much to my regret, I can but acknowledge that I had been far too engrossed in my own concerns, and those of family, which had always opposed judgement to inclination..." he said at last, then changed tack. "I had thought too much on the impact certain... actions would have, and decidedly not enough on others. Farringdon was a mistake, in many ways. You were too kind to ascribe it to good intentions. Perhaps they were, although this was not the path I should have chosen. There is a much weightier transgression that I should..."

He stopped abruptly and forcefully exhaled, then dropped her hand and stood, pacing away from her as he rubbed his forehead.

Good Heavens! This was much more difficult than he would have thought.

"For a number of reasons, I have attempted to persuade myself that it was for the best," he finally said after a long pause, his back turned. "I cannot relate them to you, Elizabeth. At the time I thought them natural and just, but..."

"Shall I try to phrase them for you, then?" Elizabeth offered, a slight edge to her voice, and Darcy turned to face her. "You were concerned about the circumstances of the entail, which Mr Collins had inadvertently disclosed. You... wished me well, but had severe doubts about the wisdom of marrying me. We are hardly from the same sphere, after all, and I have neither fortune nor connection. My family's position in life is so decidedly beneath your own, and the total want of propriety some of them display cannot by any means improve matters. There! Does that cover it, Sir?" she concluded, matter-of-factly.

Darcy was silent for a while, uncomprehendingly searching her countenance with no small amount of anxiety, not quite knowing what to make of her demeanour.

"And... are you not... offended?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath - and did not answer. She had been deliberately harsh in the summation she had just presented, somehow hoping to have it contradicted, at least in some of its thornier aspects, hoping to be reassured that he had not viewed her inferiority in so stark a light.

To have her own estimation of his thoughts and motives, however unpalatable, was one thing.

To have it so evidently confirmed in full was quite another.

There was little purpose in denying it, least of all to herself. Much as she had thought on it and had attempted to make peace with his initial rejection of her, and much as the circumstances had changed, she could not absorb the truth without being pained by it.

He was a good man, perhaps the best man she had ever known - she had been occasioned to learn that over the course of many months - and he loved her.

What was worse, she returned the sentiment. Worse, because it was well known that people took any number of ill-judged decisions when blinded by more or less founded partiality. She, of all people, should know that - all too well. She had been given daily proof, all her life, that sometimes people do marry in haste and repent at leisure.

She desperately wanted to believe in the man who commanded her affections, and to trust in the permanency of his love, but at the same time she knew that she could not bear it, should it not last. Once again, Elizabeth found herself feeling no small amount of compassion for her mother.

How had she endured it, to see her husband's regard diminishing day by day, year by year, until what must have been tenderness at least, in the early years of their marriage, had turned into disdain and open ridicule? Elizabeth almost shuddered She stood and took a few steps away from the bench. She was not her mother. She knew she could not bear it!

"Elizabeth...?" his voice prompted her gently, drawing her from her distressing reverie.

"Yes, I was offended. I cannot claim otherwise, despite the validity of the objections. In some ways, I find I still am...", she answered at last, her voice laden with all the pain of her musings and at the sound of it, Darcy returned to her side, hastily taking her hands in his.

"How can I persuade you that I am no longer the pompous, self-centred fool that I was? That I have wished against all reason to turn the time back to the early months of our acquaintance and beg you to accept me? That I hated myself for having had the presumption of even considering such a contemptible--... instead of telling you that my life was not worth living without you...?"

For a man unable to make speeches, he is acquitting himself quite well of the task, she thought, decidedly less impressed now by his eloquence than she had been on the day of his proposal.

The thought of it brought a new heaviness to her heart. She had felt nothing but elation at hearing him declare sentiments she could barely bring herself to hope for. It was quite difficult to be happy now, when every joy was tainted with doubts of its constancy.

"Yes, I rather assumed you had a change of heart," she replied coolly in response to his heartfelt assurances, sending a chill through him. "I cannot in all honesty say that it is of no consequence. I can accept that it is in the past. But the material point is, you have changed your mind once. You might change it again. And I do not think I could bear it," she added, despising herself instantly for the vulnerability that the last words betrayed.

Darcy exhaled and was about to bring her closer, before he thought better of it.

She would not be comforted, she would in all probability not even tolerate it.

He would have to tread carefully. Very, very carefully.

Her pain brought a dull ache to his own chest and he knew he had to make her believe in him. Somehow.

"Elizabeth... Please, let us sit..."

He guided her gently to the stone bench they have just quitted and sat beside her, tentatively taking her hands in his. He felt a small amount of reassurance to note that she had allowed it. He took a deep breath, praying for the wisdom to choose the right words.

"I cannot explain what I can no longer condone, Elizabeth, therefore I shall make a very poor attempt at making you see the kind of man that I was, before knowing you. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child, I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son - for many years an only child - I was spoilt by my parents, who though good themselves, (my father particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared to my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! Through you, I had come to see that there was so much that I was missing. Within myself and without. That the life I was accustomed to was barren and dull, with very little substance. And yet, I did nothing to... I have persuaded myself that there was nothing to be done. I cannot justify it. I can only say that I have been brought up in the knowledge that upholding the family status was paramount, and that my final, my firm allegiance should always be to its preservation and enhancement. I have... acted upon this... but there was not a moment that I have not regretted having done so. Away from you, I have eventually come to see that I could marry rank and status, and have an ornate life, but lacking in everything that makes it meaningful. Or I could marry you, if you would have me, and have all the bliss that a true communion of spirits can bring. I know I have given you little reason to trust in the strength of my affection, but I beg you would give me the opportunity to redress that! I love you, Elizabeth, and that shall never change. Ever since May, I have known beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could not envisage making anyone but you an offer of marriage and I have resolved to put my fate in your hands, in the hope that you would have me..."

He stopped, as Elizabeth's countenance, wistful and softened during part of his discourse, turned cold and expressionless, and she slowly but determinedly withdrew her hands from his. She crossed them in her lap and stared at them for a long time, then looked away over the fields.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, very much disturbed by her altered demeanour.

At the sound of his voice she abruptly stood.

"I would like to return to the house now," she said, her voice lifeless, quite unlike anything he had ever heard from her before. Without another word she turned, her countenance closed, and her mouth thinned into a severe line of displeasure, more obvious now that at any point in their discourse. Darcy's heart sank. Her distress pained him more than anything and he cursed his impetuous, ill-judged attempt to unburden his heart. Why was it that although he loved her more than life itself, all he could do was hurt her, time and again?

"I was afraid of that!" he exclaimed as he stood and followed, his remorse acute. "No good could ever come from raking up the past, when everything has changed!"

Elizabeth briefly looked up, her eyebrows raised, and then she turned away, overpowered by sadness and disappointment. He spoke well. Oh, yes, he spoke very well indeed, despite his claims to the contrary. Yet actions spoke so much more convincingly than fine words ever could.

Some circumstances might have changed. Yet apparently he had not. Not in essentials.

He is very much what he ever was!

It was mortifying in the extreme to apprehend it. She had thought that he had overcome his scruples, and that his original views on her inferiority had been materially altered. She had been absolutely convinced that the decision to offer for her was very recent and, although hard-won, was taken with a full understanding and acceptance of what their future connection implied.

Although not particularly happy with the notion, she could understand why he would require a long time to reconcile himself to the match. She would be a simpleton indeed, and worse still, a self-important simpleton not to recognise the differences in their station, or to pretend that the improprieties some of her relations almost uniformly displayed would not be a trial and a constant source of vexation to them. He was, after all, accustomed with the most elevated society and with the best it had to offer. The very notion that he would offer for her regardless, and that he would overcome his distaste to associate with them because he loved her had been felt as a compliment of the highest order.

And now it had become painfully apparent that he had not overcome it at all...

"I fear I have offended you grievously, Elizabeth," he spoke in an accent of acute mortification. "There are times when honesty does nothing but disservice!"

"I am afraid I shall have to disagree, Sir," she coolly replied. "From what I have found, honesty is always preferable!" she added stiffly, her diction precise.

She guessed more than saw Darcy turning an anxious stare following her pronouncement, but chose not to acknowledge it as the implications of what he had inadvertently disclosed weighed upon her.

He had no wish to associate himself with her relations, except for Jane. Dearest Jane! Who would ever dare object to her, all goodness and kindness that she is! But the rest of them... He was, in all probability, very much aware of their inferiority and, by extension, her own. He would not acknowledge anything of the sort for now, perhaps not even to himself, but it was to be expected that one day he would. And there was a strong chance he will resent her for it.

'It is fortunate,' a solemn thought urged, 'that news of the engagement have not been spread abroad.' Only four other people knew of it and their discretion could be relied upon. Should they choose to do so, they could walk away from it with no ill effects to either party.

The solemn thought was banished with a wince of pain. She could not envisage an end to their engagement. There was no doubt of their mutual affection. Was it so utterly unreasonable to hope that in time and in her presence, he would truly change?

With a gesture of impatience, Elizabeth grimaced at her own folly. What woman truly got to alter her husband's ways? If no inclination to change was forthcoming in the very beginning, when the novelty and strength of their attachment must necessarily increase any desire to please, what hope was there for it afterwards? Had her mother succeeded in changing her father - or the reverse, for that matter? Theirs must have been a love match. They were too ill-suited in every respect for it to be prompted by any reason other than unconquerable partiality. And yet what felicity had there been in their incongruous union?

Before she could overcome the pain such thoughts engendered, her progress back towards the house was halted by a hand on her arm. She looked up and, to her embarrassment and his acute distress, her eyes filled with tears.

"Elizabeth, I beg you!" he urged. "You cannot return to the house, not with this unresolved between us. Please! We must talk!"

She nodded. She hardly knew her own mind and could, in effect, think of very little else just then other than her love and her fear, but she could only agree. They had to talk.

"Will you sit?" he enquired with quiet solicitude.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"What are your thoughts, my love?" Darcy asked as he reached for her hand, but she clasped them both behind her back. He dropped his own by his side, then drew one over his face.

"Would you please..." he faltered, then tried again. "Could you please tell me how can I atone for the wretchedness I have caused?"

"I am not seeking atonement," Elizabeth replied through unwilling, stiff lips.

"What are you seeking?"

Reassurance? Trust? Hope?HH "An answer."

"To what?"

Elizabeth brought her hands forward to stare at them as she rubbed her thumb against her palm.

In the end, she lifted her eyes to his.

"To my fear that I have been too hasty in entering into this engagement," she said at last.

Darcy felt like he was falling from a very, very great height.

She could not possibly imply...

"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, his countenance mirroring his shock and grief. "Please do not tell me you have changed your mind!"

"No, I have not! I cannot !... I... I do not know!"

Her hands went to her temples and she closed her eyes. Her complexion had become frightfully pale, and the disturbance of her mind was visible in every feature. She was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open her lips till she believed herself to have attained it. This pause was to Darcy's feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, she said,

"I cannot overcome my fear that I should not marry you, Mr Darcy. Many would regard me as a simpleton for it, but it cannot be helped. I am not able to weather a loveless marriage.."

"Loveless...?!? Whatever could give you that impression? It would not be loveless, Elizabeth! It would be anything but!"

"Perhaps not now," she conceded coolly. "But I fear it will become so. Undoubtedly very soon."

Darcy was terrified by now and, were he to own the truth, more than a little offended. He took a deep breath to control his temper, knowing only too well that too much was at stake, and that any display of the sort would probably bring about the end of all his hopes. He endeavoured to keep his voice even as he said:

"You had good cause to doubt me, 'tis true, yet... I would have hoped to make you see by now that whatever I might be, I am not fickle. What would you have me do, Elizabeth, to persuade you that my heart is yours, and shall always be?"

She waved a hand in dismissal of his question, he thought at first, until it became apparent that she was struggling for the power of speech. Finally, with assumed tranquillity, she replied:

"I have been occasioned to note that a marriage where both partners do not esteem the other cannot be agreeable, to either party. Pray allow me to finish!" she urged, as he appeared eager to interrupt and offer reassurance that this was not their case. "I am sorry, Mr Darcy, but a passing fancy is not a sound foundation for a happy union. I have... I was willing to believe that you have somehow reconciled yourself with the disparity in our station and you have overcome your disdain of the inferiority of my connections. As it is, I find it rather difficult to believe it now," she concluded, her voice leaden.

Darcy stood frozen to the spot, his face ashen, unsure of how to proceed.

"Why now?" he brought himself to ask. "What has changed?"

Elizabeth sighed, tiredly. And then explained to him as she would to a child.

"You claimed that you esteem me, admire me, love me, and that ever since May you have been determined to offer me your hand. And yet your conduct throughout the intervening months does not bode well for the level of consideration I should expect from you after our marriage. I dread to think what it would dwindle to, were we so foolish as to start so low. I see you still do not understand, Mr Darcy," she observed sadly, in response to the look of devastated confusion on his countenance. "Despite the avowed strength of your affection, you have not sought me out, and even after our chance encounter, you have chosen to avoid my family's mortifying society. Some of them could be a trial to one's patience, I grant you, but what would I be expected to do should I marry you, Sir? Never see them again? Cower in embarrassment and in dread of your reaction whenever some spiteful matron mentions in high society that I have one uncle in trade and the other an attorney in a small country town? Wait patiently for your regard for me to turn into bitterness as you begin to regret the youthful fancy that has prompted you to make me an offer of marriage?"

She had warmed up to the subject by then and sadness had been replaced with no small amount of anger, and her eyes sparkled. A wave of renewed passion swept over him at the sight, along with a rush of hope when the source of her distress was revealed.

"It was not your family that I was avoiding, Elizabeth," he said quietly, hoping that she would be willing to listen.

"Who, then?" she asked, not knowing what to make of his statement and rather disposed to dismiss it as yet another fine speech.

"You, after a fashion. And Colonel Brandon," he added, to her utmost surprise.

"I fail to catch your meaning, Sir," she said, confusion written clearly on her features.

"I have persuaded myself that you cared for him. I did not wish to disturb your peace. Nor," he owned, "did I wish to witness it."

"How... ?"

"A rather long and convoluted tale. My cousin suggested it was a possibility, after having made your acquaintance in Devonshire."

"How had he come to mention me? Did he know anything of our acquaintance?"

"No, nothing at all. He was merely commenting on the improvement in his friend's spirits, which you have apparently wrought. He mentioned that Colonel Brandon seemed taken with you, and that he would be a fool not to propose. I rather understood the sentiment," he added dryly.

"When was this?"

"In the spring."

"Was that the reason for your change of heart?"

"In part," he owned. "It made me see I could not truly envisage a life without you."

"And yet you have not spoken until now..."

"It was... The circumstance was of my own making, in truth. I should have declared my sentiments for you when I had the chance. I did not. Moreover, it was by my contrivance that you had come to live in Devonshire. I have forfeited all right to interfere, should you have come to care for him!"

"Oh!"

She could say nothing more, as the whirlwind of conflicting emotions that have assaulted her within the space of no more than a half-hour got the better of her.

He did esteem her after all. And love her. With a strength and magnitude she had not thought possible, even in her most confident hours. That he would have been prepared, despite his own loss, to step aside and not intrude, while she walked away to be happy with another man - that he would have remained silent, in order to respect her wishes and preserve her peace of mind - spoke more of the depth of his affection than anything ever could.

She looked up in undisguised wonder, elated and humbled by what she had heard.

"I have always prided myself on my discernment and my abilities, but never before have they served me so poorly!" she offered, with a small conscious smile. "When we have met in town, I had not the slightest hope that your feelings might be such..."

"Hope? You speak of hope, Elizabeth?" he asked, astounded, as he came to her side and took her hand. "Is that to say that even then, you would have welcomed my addresses?"

She blushed at that and looked away, and Darcy's mind reeled.

Good God! She would!

He shook his head in disbelief at the thought of his needless agony and the missed opportunities, until her rosy countenance reminded him of his duty:

"I apologise for my impertinent question, it was hardly appropriate," Darcy retracted quietly, but she would not allow him to continue.

"I believe it is I who should be apologising, Mr Darcy, for my misjudgement and mistrust. It was ungenerous of me, particularly given the circumstances..."

"Of which you were unaware..."

"Of which I was unaware...", she repeated softly, suddenly overcome by the thought of what he must have endured. Almost without thinking, Elizabeth withdrew a hand from his clasp and brushed the back of her fingers against the side of his face. To her surprise, his features contorted in pain, and he covered her hand with his and pressed it against his cheek.

"I could not bear to lose you, Elizabeth," he whispered suddenly, unexpectedly, and turned his face against her palm to kiss the tip of her fingers.

"Nor I you."

Tears came to her eyes as she said that, in an unprecedented and uncharacteristic display of emotion which she found, to her utter mortification, that she could not control. The thought that only a few minutes previously she had - even in passing - considered their separation, suddenly became too much to contemplate. She averted her face, the belated shock overpowering.

Before she knew how it came about, she was in his arms, tears falling freely onto the crisp whiteness of his cravat. His hand had come up to rest at the back of her head, the gentle hold turning into a fiercely protective clasp as he drew a ragged breath.

"Never!" he whispered against her hair, and then again, "Never".

She knew not how long she had been held thus, no perceived impropriety in their closeness, just the healing of a painful and longstanding wound. Her tears have dried, her sobs have subsided, and his soft, soothing voice was slowly bringing her back into the real world, with words of love, gently spoken. With a long, steadying breath, she broke away. She gave a little self-conscious laugh as she lifted her hands to dab at her tears.

"Forgive me," she said at last. "That was very foolish."

Darcy's only answer was to shake his head. He smiled as, slowly, almost unthinkingly, he lowered his head to hers to brush his lips against her cheek. It was still damp from her tears, and soft, and very cool. He cupped her face in his hands, gently caressing her remnant tears away with his thumbs as he trailed light kisses towards the corner of her mouth.

By the time her arms came up around his neck, he could not care one jot that they might be seen from the house. In point of fact, he had not even given the thought one moment's consideration.

~ * ~

They were seen. Drawn by the beauty of the day, Jane had come to look out of the window and had started in surprise and no small amount of embarrassment at the scene below. She averted her eyes instantly and would have walked away but for the unsettling notion that Elizabeth looked distinctly like she had been crying.

Despite her better instincts, Jane looked towards the couple again. She had. Whatever must have caused her pain appeared to have been put to rest by now, but the notion that Darcy could have distressed her sister to that extent was not at all welcome.

Jane sighed. She had acknowledged to herself, a long time ago, that ever since her own marriage and the separation from her dearest sister, she had become inordinately protective of Elizabeth.

She had so much joie de vivre, so much sparkle, that many people were misled into thinking that she was stronger than she really was. It was only to Jane that her inner vulnerability was apparent. And she was not about to tolerate her sister coming to any harm.

Jane walked away from the window and sat. Mr Darcy was a good man, and she was as pleased as can be about the connection. He was, after all, one of Charles' closest friends, and there could be little doubt about his integrity, or his willingness to make Elizabeth happy. Jane knew that, and had rejoiced at the prospect of their union with all her heart. Yet, all things considered, she could not help thinking that she ought to keep a discreet but close eye on the matter.

Chapter 27

With a brisk step and a dark countenance, Darcy descended the shallow flight of steps leading away from the rather large portico that graced the entrance to his uncle's London residence.

It did not go well - nor did he assume it would. He had not expected the Earl's blessing, but the extreme displeasure with which his communication was received could not but pain him, for himself as well as her.

The footman bowed deeply as he held the door to his carriage and Darcy acknowledged him with a brief nod before getting in.

It could not be helped. It was unfortunate for everyone concerned, but it could not be helped. Fitzwilliam's words returned to him, although this was not the message that Richard had intended to convey at the time. He will have his rewards in the happiness of his home. In Elizabeth's presence and her love. He had almost chosen them over her, and it did not bear thinking what sort of life this would have led him to. In due course, they will get to know and appreciate her. It will undoubtedly be... very difficult if they did not. But it could not be helped.

"Drive on, Thompson!"

Darcy discarded his hat by his side and leaned his head back into the cushions as the carriage took to the road. He briefly closed his eyes and sighed. What a deuced waste of a day! He should have remained at Netherfield - enjoying the last precious hours of relative privacy left to them, before the large number of guests descended upon the place, in two days' time - instead of travelling to town to acquit himself of the unpleasant duty.

He had determined, some time after their walk to Oakham Mount, that he would not quit Hertfordshire for the foreseeable future, and would meet with the Earl of Matlock only after the ball. A recent conversation with Elizabeth, however, had changed that. They were walking in the shrubbery some days ago, when she had suddenly turned towards him with a look which he had come to recognise as her attempt to make light of a mortifying circumstance.

"You have not mentioned lately whether you still intend to inform your relations in person about our engagement and - much as I hate to say this, for a number of reasons - there is something you may wish to consider. My mother will know of it in a matter of days and from then on there is no telling how soon and in which direction the news will spread, with the misguided assistance of Mr Collins..."

The notion had taken him completely by surprise.

"Mr Collins... What can he have to do with it?"

"He was preferred to the rectory of Hunsford Parish some time ago, if you remember."

Of course. He had entirely forgotten of the former pastor's connection to Rosings.

"I should not wish to prompt your departure to town, particularly at this juncture," Elizabeth had continued, the turn of her countenance warming his heart, "but it would not do for them to hear of it from this source..."

She was right, of course. He had not considered this possibility, and the added complication put different time constraints on his self-appointed task. Little as he wished it, he had brought himself to acknowledge the need of tearing himself from Netherfield for a day. He had even contemplated leaving shortly after dinner on one of the following evenings, in order to miss as little as possible of the time he was allowed to spend with her, but Elizabeth would not hear of it and had been adamant in her insistence that any gain would not warrant the risk of travelling at night. Her concern had found its way to his heart more readily than any words of wisdom. The thought that she feared for his safety was in itself so utterly endearing that he could not bring himself to remind her he had travelled much further than that, on many occasions, the latest merely a fortnight ago. Nor did he feel inclined to mention the more than adequate number of footmen, or the fact that Richard had declared himself ready to accompany him to town. He found it much more enjoyable to relent.

On his part, Fitzwilliam had only smiled at the change of plans and was happy to accommodate him with a departure at dawn rather than one in the middle of the night - and privately confessed to him later, when they were already on their way, that he had found the abandoned scheme particularly foolish.

They have not spoken of any matters of consequence since the day of his engagement - since the night of the journey to Pemberley, in point of fact, but Darcy was rather persuaded that his cousin's doubts, as well as his concern for his future felicity, had diminished somewhat during their stay at Netherfield. They have spent most of the recent days bantering and sparring in a manner highly reminiscent of their Cambridge days, or simply enjoying each other's company, without saying much - but sometimes there was little need for a lengthy discourse. It had not been necessary on the evening of his engagement, nor was it necessary now - and Darcy knew full well, without being told, that Fitzwilliam's wish to travel to town had as much to do with a desire to dedicate some time to his long-neglected family, as with the intention of being of some assistance to him, regardless of any personal reservations that he might still harbour.

They had arrived in town as fast as his equipage and the skill of his coachman would allow and, having spent as little time as possible refreshing themselves from the journey, they have repaired to Wimpole Street. They have had the good fortune - or so it had appeared at the time - of finding the family within. The habitual number of callers milling in and out of Lady Henrietta's drawing room, however, made it impossible for Darcy to discuss anything of consequence with his aunt or his younger cousins. He had perforce to content himself with a brief exchange of civilities, before excusing himself and going to seek the Earl of Matlock in his study.

His uncle had been delighted with the intelligence at first - that is, until he had learned that the prospective bride was not Anne, nor was she among the young ladies whose connections he knew and approved of. Lord Matlock had grown very quiet at that and had taken his time in pouring a drink - just for himself, as Darcy had chosen not to join him - then had proceeded to sip it thoughtfully, in prolonged silence. By the time his lordship had cleared his voice, ready to begin, Darcy had mentally listed most of the objections to follow. They were as familiar to him as may be, considering that he had spent the best part of the previous autumn, winter and spring reciting them to himself over a great number of his waking hours. Some - he soon found - were missing from his uncle's extensive list. There were others, however, which would not have been included in his own. His mother's disappointment with his choice, had she lived to witness it; Georgiana's likely discomfort at having to welcome as her sister a person so wholly unconnected with her; Lady Catherine's distress at learning that the match she and the entire family had been expecting for many years will not come to pass; Anne's 'shattered hopes' and his duty to her.

Around the time when the Earl had proceeded to state that, contrary to popular belief, a happy union was the product of rational choice and sound judgement, rather than the unbridled forces of passion; that there can be no true communion between people accustomed to such different ways, such different circles; and that, despite the best efforts, one born so far beneath their station in life could not possibly understand and perform the duties expected of her with any degree of credit, Darcy had decided that the conversation had gone far enough. It was only thoughts of his mother and Georgiana that had enabled him to keep his temper under some regulation and walk away from the discussion without a formal breach with his uncle.

In a clipped tone, Darcy had thanked his lordship for his concern.

"I would like to reassure you, my lord, that despite fears to the contrary, I have lost neither my head, nor my powers of perception. I have high hopes that your opinion of this engagement and of Miss Bennet will change upon making her acquaintance. I will not trouble you further with assurances which you will very likely dismiss as based on nothing more than blind partiality. At this juncture, I believe it is best that I thank you for your time and bid you good day!"

Any views that the Earl of Matlock might have had regarding his nephew's abrupt leave taking, he chose not to express them. Their adieus had been cold at best, and very brief.

Darcy had emerged from the Earl's study only to be met shortly by the Colonel, who had clearly been lying in wait. A brief handshake and a friendly hand on his shoulder was decidedly not enough to raise his spirits, but it clearly helped.

"It is no more than you expected, Fitzwilliam," his cousin had reminded him. "He will relent."

"It matters not!" Darcy had replied darkly.

It was not strictly true. His uncle's blatant opposition to the match was placing a great strain on their connection. He would not wish to see Georgiana separated from the only family left to them nor, he found, would he wish for any children that he and Elizabeth might have, to grow into the world without any real sense of kinship with his own mother's relations. But it could not be helped.

"I will leave you now," Darcy had roused himself suddenly from his ruminations.

"You are returning to Netherfield directly, I assume..."

"As soon as it can be arranged. You will oblige me, Richard, and convey my apologies to Lady Henrietta and your sisters. I should not wish to disrupt her arrangements again, nor am I equal to drawing-room conversation at this point in time. Perhaps you would be so kind to mention the invitation to Netherfield to whomever may wish to attend, though I fully expect that it will come to naught. Given my uncle's view on the matter, your mother and sisters will certainly not be of the party. As for Wentworth, I doubt he is in town."

"No, my brother never is, at this time of year. I will mention it to my father, though, for what it's worth."

"I thank you - although from the way we parted and the views he expressed, I am little disposed to wish for his attendance!"

Fitzwilliam gave a short wry laugh at this.

"Pray enlighten me as to the humorous side of the matter, Cousin, for, frankly, I quite fail to see it!"

"Ironic that you should be mortified by your own relations this time, do you not think?"

Darcy had laughed ruefully at that.

"Indeed. It does make a rather interesting change..."

"Is our aunt Catherine invited as well, perchance?" Fitzwilliam had mischievously added, managing to extract a genuine laughter from his cousin at last.

"Heaven forbid! Though that should at least make for a truly memorable occasion!"

"Have you gathered your courage to write to Rosings yet?"

"I am more likely to want time than courage, as you well know. I have mentioned to your father, though, that it shall be done by the end of the week."

"Well!" Fitzwilliam had exhaled, with an air of finality. "There will be a storm, and you shall weather it. I daresay... I daresay it will be worth your trouble, Cousin," he had added in a manner which sounded suspiciously to Darcy like a tentative step towards the retraction of previously expressed opinions. They shook hands, words once more unnecessary.

"I shall see you at Netherfield, then, before too long. With any luck, I might even surprise you and be on my best behaviour," the Colonel had quipped, as he escorted Darcy towards the door.

"Your best behaviour? Fitzwilliam, you do not know the meaning of the word!" his cousin had replied in like manner, their banter a welcome change after the earlier discussions.

The light-heartedness did not last long. As they were making their way towards the entrance hall, they had crossed paths with the Earl of Matlock, who had just emerged from his study. He had merely nodded ceremoniously towards his nephew and briefly acknowledged his second son, whose countenance left him in no doubt as to the side he had chosen. Darcy had bowed stiffly in response, then had left the house in a distemper such as he could not remember experiencing in Wimpole Street at any time before that day.

Darcy closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as his carriage was making its way towards his London home, with the grim satisfaction that he had performed his duty and had done his uncle the courtesy of informing him in person. His countenance brightened at the thought that, after not much longer than the time it took for a change of horses and a change of attire, he would be - mercifully - back on the way to Hertfordshire, and to Elizabeth.

~ * ~

Despite his efforts for a speedy return, it was past the usual hour for dinner when his carriage rolled down the drive towards Netherfield and ground to a halt in front of the entrance. It had been a long and taxing journey, with very little but the thought of returning to her to make it bearable.

On the trip out, at least, he had the benefit of Fitzwilliam's society. There was no company on the return journey, other than that of his stormy thoughts at the recollection of the Earl's response, and in anticipation of Lady Catherine's, the only consolation being that he would not have to meet with her, not for a while at least.

The carriage door was held open for him and Darcy stepped out, breathing in the cool and fragrant air. He climbed the steps to the entrance, with a warm sense of homecoming. How singular that Netherfield should elicit it, much more so than the house in Berkeley Square. And yet not singular at all. Elizabeth did not - as yet - reside in Berkeley Square.

Had it not been for his impeccable training, the butler who admitted him would have started in surprise at the open smile on the young man's face. He had known Mr Bingley's friend for many years now - was it ten? no, not quite, but not much less - and despite his young years, he had inspired a respect bordering on awe in many ways, not least with his austere countenance.

There was nothing austere about him now, just barely contained anticipation. Despite remembering quite well how it was to be young and in love, the butler did not presume to return the gentleman's smile - not outwardly at least - but as he took his coat, hat and gloves, he allowed himself to offer, without being asked:

"The family is still at dinner, Sir. Would you care to join them?"

"No, I think not," Mr Darcy replied, leaving the butler in no doubt that in fact he desired quite the opposite - but of course he could not sit down for dinner having come straight from the road!

"Very good, Sir. Shall I have a tray brought up instead?"

"I will be joining the family in the drawing room shortly, I should imagine, but a light repast in my room in a couple of hours would be quite welcome, I thank you."

The butler bowed and disappeared to notify Mr Darcy's man that his master would undoubtedly wish to refresh himself after the journey as soon as may be, leaving the gentleman to make his way above stairs at his leisure. Unbeknownst to him, Darcy had not got far. Sounds of voices coming down the corridor from the direction of the small dining parlour gave him pause, and he turned to descend the stairs at a brisk pace. Hers was the first face he saw when he rounded the corner, and the surprise in her eyes as they flew up to his - only to be replaced in mere moments by unmitigated, boundless joy that lit up her entire countenance - more than compensated for all the distress and the weariness that the day had brought.

"Darcy!" Bingley exclaimed in some surprise, advancing towards him. "You made good time. We were not expecting you for another couple of hours at least. Come, you must be exhausted, and in dire need of refreshment!"

Privately, Darcy begged to differ. He was not in need of refreshment, or port wine, or whatever Bingley was about to ply him with. He was in dire need of a moment with Elizabeth. He ungraciously accepted, however, that he would have to stake his hopes on dry weather and a lengthy walk on the morrow, and forced himself to content with bowing over her hand, when she advanced to greet him and ask if he had a good journey.

"Yes, quite good, I thank you," he replied, the bland, commonplace exchange of civilities a poor substitute for what he wished to say. "It is very good to be back, though," he ventured, to which she answered with a quiet but very earnest "Yes", which at least gave him the comfort to know that she was not faring much better.

As their guest turned to her with a few civil words, then moved to affectionately greet his sister, Mrs Bingley valiantly struggled to suppress a smile at the endearing picture the engaged couple presented. She had long suspected a partiality on Mr Darcy's side, as far back as his unexpected visit in the spring, in point of fact, and the notion had only gained further substance ever since his arrival at Netherfield, following Lizzy's hasty retreat from the North.

Mrs Bingley was prepared to own, to herself at least, that she had been rather concerned at first about her sister's feelings, particularly with respect to Farringdon and the awkwardness it entailed. However, she knew Elizabeth too well to think that she would accept Mr Darcy's hand in marriage out of a misplaced sense of gratitude, or for some other equally nonsensical reasons.

A lengthy conversation between sisters, earlier that day, had fully enlightened her as to the nature, the duration and the strength of Lizzy's sentiments. In all fairness, it was hardly necessary.

Her sister had verily glowed with happiness ever since the day of the engagement - with the exception of that disquieting moment in the garden, of which Jane did not feel at liberty to enquire. Whatever its cause, however, the cloud had disappeared, and no-one could doubt the couple's attachment, particularly at this moment, when they could barely tear their eyes from each other, separated as they were by the full width of the hall, and even more so by convention.

With a small, imperceptible lift of her shoulders, Jane silenced any concerns she might have had regarding the propriety of her own designs and turned with a cheerful smile to Georgiana.

"I daresay we should have our coffee before it becomes quite undrinkable, do you not think? Mr Darcy, do join us as soon as you can," she added and, with a hand on her husband's arm and the other on her sister's, she manoeuvred the party in the direction of the drawing room. She stopped almost at once, however, and releasing Elizabeth's arm, she turned to her dear sister with an expressionless countenance that did her credit, given her candid and ever so transparent soul. "Lizzy, I hope it is not too much of an imposition, but would you mind fetching my work basket? I believe I must have left it in the library..."

Bingley looked up sharply at this. He felt he possessed enough knowledge of his wife's ways to be fairly certain that in all the time she had lived at Netherfield, Jane had never chosen to sit and sew in the library. He met her eye with a quizzically raised brow, to which she responded with a smile and a gentle pressure on his arm, before turning to engage Georgiana in conversation. Bingley held his peace and escorted the two ladies to the drawing room, privately diverted by the thought that his dear wife would have done her mother proud - and with rather more finesse into the bargain.

~ * ~ The workbasket was nowhere in sight, and the failing light was not improving matters.

Elizabeth turned and lit the candles in the two heavily ornamented candlesticks she found on the mantelpiece - and almost burned her fingers as the sound of the opening door and the tall figure it admitted drew all her attention.

She hastily extinguished the flame, rather amused at her own foolishness. She did not laugh, though. In point of fact, she did not quite know what she did, or who moved first, but by the time his arms had closed around her, she could not spare it a thought, nor did it matter. This time, their kiss had nothing in common with the other chaste, tentative ones. It was deep and urgent, betraying all the longing for each other, on this, the first day of their separation, all the disquiet his errand had engendered, and the need to put every thing aside, except what they had, what they shared.

When she found herself quite out of breath, Elizabeth rested her flushed face against his coat and earnestly voiced the thought that had been with her all day.

"I never wish to be apart from you again!"

Darcy exhaled deeply, quite overcome to hear it, and tightened the hold of his arms around her at the unwelcome thought of the impending separation over the long night to follow - and all the other nights that stretched in unbroken chain until the all too distant, the not-even-set-yet day of their wedding. He swallowed and pushed the thought aside. Slowly and very reluctantly, he let his arms fall, the light kiss dropped on her lips once more chaste, before he moved away.

Elizabeth looked up, surprisingly and disquietingly lost without the feel of his arms around her. She made to aimlessly reposition one of the candlesticks to mask her discomfort, but thought better of it and turned to Darcy instead. She placed a hand on his in a light caress as she asked:

"Was your day very taxing?"

"All is well now," he replied softly, bringing her hand to his lips.

So it did not go well. The thought pained her. She did not wish to come between him and his family, and yet she feared that there was a very strong likelihood of it. Indeed, she could not think of any good reason why his relations - with the fortunate exception of Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, apparently - would not disapprove of the unremarkable connection, at best, and at worst, strongly distrust her motives for marrying him. Prompted by either pride or affection, or both, they must surely think he could have made a much more advantageous match, and they would not be wrong. He could have made an illustrious match.

But he had chosen her. What had he said the other day? That he could marry rank and status and have an empty life, or marry her and have all the bliss that a true communion of spirits can bring.

Elizabeth's chin came up, and her eyes shone with unshed tears as she smiled at the comforting thought. A true communion of spirits. That was what he sought. That was what they both sought. Having been so very fortunate to find it - and hopefully wise enough to preserve it - their life together will definitely not be an empty ornate shell.

"You are so beautiful tonight," she suddenly heard him whisper, as he gave in to the temptation of holding her again. He dropped a kiss on her brow and laughed softly, a pleasant rumbling sound. "What am I saying? Elizabeth, this is intolerable! I cannot even phrase a passable compliment! Of course you look beautiful. You always look beautiful!"

Elizabeth lifted her hand to caress his face, delighted with his jocular manner.

"That I do not!" she protested, knowingly.

"You do. And even more so now," he replied in earnest, entranced by the glow in her countenance.

She verily radiated joy and blissfully happy thoughts appeared to be shinning in her eyes, as she looked upon him. "You look... very happy," he said softly as he bent his head to rest his cheek against hers, only to have his hard-won equanimity shattered by the feel of her warm breath against his skin, as she fervently whispered:

"I am happy. Perfectly and incredulously happy that our paths have crossed - against all odds - and that you should want me for your wife."

The delight of her unreserved declaration robbed him of all power to pause and argue that the advantage and good fortune were all on his side, before gathering her closer and unrestrainedly indulging in the sweet torment of feverish, hungry kisses that but increased the longing which they aspired to sate.

It was with a great deal of effort that he eventually stopped and drew a ragged breath, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. It would not do to be found thus by any of the servants who were bound to enter sooner or later to draw the shutters and prepare the house for the night - and yet he could not step away.

"We should return to the others..." he offered, not wanting to.

"I know..."

He drew back to smile into her eyes, the light-hearted manner belied by the intensity in his voice.

"I wish to marry you as soon as may be, Elizabeth!"

"I know..."

"I love you!"

"I know..." she laughed, before adding soberly: "And I you!"

His lips found hers again in a long kiss, before he pulled away to whisper earnestly:

"When, Elizabeth?"

"Soon."

"Very soon!"

"Very soon."

After the amount of time it would have reasonably taken to search most of the public rooms on the ground floor, Elizabeth repaired to the drawing room without the elusive workbasket. She forgot to mention it to Jane for quite some time and when she did remember, she could not help noticing that her sister had grown remarkably disinterested in its whereabouts. Elizabeth thought no more of it - her mind was too busily engaged with altogether different matters - and that was the only excuse she could find for having taken full ten minutes to grasp the truth regarding her dear Jane's unexpected and ever so timely slyness.

Much later, when they were bidding each other good night at the end of a delightful evening, Elizabeth had finally found an opportunity to whisper a heartfelt 'Thank you!' as she embraced her sister and warmly kissed her cheek.

Chapter 28

"I beg your pardon? Oh, tea, please, my dear."

Mrs Bingley smiled at her husb