Section I, Next Section

Chapter One

Posted on Wednesday, 9 August 2006

"...Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked - and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teazing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea has been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her."

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 12

He would have been hard-pressed however to relate the contents of the pages he had so thoroughly perused with feigned absorption as, despite his best efforts, he could scarcely be aware of else but her presence. He would not glance in her direction - by God, he would not! - not that he needed to. He did not need to look to know that the sunlight was turning her beautiful auburn hair into hues of the warmest of autumns, that her brow would be slightly creased in delightful concentration and that every once and again she would bite the corner of her lip as she read, in a fashion that he could not help but find most endearing.

He held back what would have been a long exhalation and turned it into a cough. This would not do. It would not do at all! He turned another page and readjusted his position in the comfortable chair - not that it felt very comfortable at the moment. Nothing would.

Suddenly, the sound of a book being closed and placed on a table drew his attention and Darcy allowed himself to raise his eyes. She had indeed placed the book on the small table beside her chair and stood to leave. He was glad. He should be glad. The last half hour was uncomfortable at best, not in the slightest reminiscent of the inner peace he found in a library, even in the sparse Netherfield library. In that at least Miss Bingley was right. Netherfield's library was indeed nothing to Pemberley's. Not that it troubled him other than it became tedious after a time to peruse the same passages that one had read the day before - and the day before that.

The thought of the library at Pemberley brought back the picture of the familiar, comfortable place before his mind's eye and Darcy felt more at ease for a moment - before an unsettling picture intruded. Sunlight streaming through the great south-facing windows, lighting autumn fires in Elizabeth's auburn hair, as she would sit and read across the room from him. Elizabeth's smile - she had long since ceased to be Miss Bennet to him, or even Miss Elizabeth - as she would raise her eyes from her book and cast him a look of shared understanding... companionship... and love.

Darcy cast aside thoughts of a life that could not be and stood to bow to her as she passed him with a slight nod of her head. He was glad, he reminded himself, glad to have the library to himself again and not to have to force every fibre of his being to play the charade of ignoring her presence. It was for the best, he repeated, dismissing the acute sense of loss he experienced as she glided softly past him, for the ramblings of an ungovernable fool.

She was but a few steps away when the door opened and a footman appeared carrying a tray with a note, which he held out to her.

"This arrived for you just now from Longbourn, Ma'am," the footman announced as he delivered it. "The lad who brought it said it was most urgent."

Darcy saw her shake her head, and having been exposed to the joys of Mrs. Bennet's society only the day before, could easily conjecture the turn of her mind as she dismissed the footman with a 'Thank you' and a gracious smile before she opened her note.

Would Mrs. Bennet insist that her eldest daughters extended their stay, as surely there could be no harm in their spending more time in the company of the most eligible bachelors in the environs? 'Ten thousand a year, my dear, and very likely more!' rang in his ears, and a shudder of disgust which he could not fully suppress shook his frame.

With such thoughts occupying his mind, he would have missed her faint gasp, had she not been so close. Darcy could not see her countenance, for she was facing the other way, but could not miss her reaching to the back of the nearest chair for support as she whispered "Oh, dear Lord, no!"

Despite his earlier intentions, Darcy found himself at her side before he even became aware he had quitted his place.

"Not bad news from home, Miss Bennet, I hope," he offered tentatively, and to his utter distress, her only reply was to burst into tears.

"Good God! What is the matter?" cried he with more feeling than politeness as he took her arm and guided her to the nearest chair. Unable to support herself, she sat down and unwittingly Darcy followed, bending down on his knee by her side for a few moments, until quite suddenly he became aware of his posture, so strikingly reminiscent of a proposal. Recollecting himself, he stood and attempted to remove himself to the other end of the room. She was looking so miserably ill however, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, or to refrain from saying in a tone of gentleness and commiseration.

"Let me call a maid. Is there nothing you could take, to give you present relief? - A glass of wine; - shall I get you one? - You are very ill."

"No, thank you," she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn."

She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence, as he endeavoured to fathom the cause of her distress. 'Some dreadful news', she had said.

Could this signify that something has befallen a loved one?

Darcy drew a sharp breath. He could not claim a full understanding of Elizabeth's family, but in his opinion, there was but one person left at Longbourn whose safety, or rather lack thereof, could affect her so. Dismissing his previous endeavours at distancing himself, Darcy returned to kneel at her side and touched her hand, deep concern in his eyes and his address:

"Miss Bennet," he enquired gently, "has anything befallen your father?"

Her only response was to nod wretchedly, as her eyes filled anew with tears and she looked away.

"Good God, is he-?"

"No!" cried Elizabeth, with great energy. "No, he is not."

Neither could utter the dreadful word, and at length she spoke again.

"My sister Mary writes that he was taken ill, at some time before breakfast, it was assumed. My father did not join the family, but this alarmed no one as he would normally be quite happy to forgo a repast if a particular book had taken his fancy. Hill - our housekeeper, that is - has sent a maid with some tea a few hours ago. That is when they found him collapsed on the floor."

"And what has been done, what has been attempted to revive him?" Darcy asked, in the tone of one used to take charge of the situation, any situation, and for once Elizabeth did not find this offensive, but strangely comforting. Not one used to rely on others, Elizabeth wondered briefly at her feeling somewhat reassured by his manner, and then it became clear. In some unfathomable fashion, it reminded her of her uncle Gardiner.

"I scarcely know. Mr. Jones, the apothecary, has been sent for. He has already seen my father but as yet cannot offer an opinion as to his condition," Elizabeth replied, wretchedly. "My sister writes to hasten my return," she added. "They are all in turmoil."

"But of course!" said Darcy determinedly and stood. "You are undoubtedly eager to return home as soon as may be, Miss Bennet," he added, and his voice carried a quiet strength that made Elizabeth raise her eyes and square her shoulders, as though his strength was restoring hers. "Will you allow me to order your carriage now? If it is agreeable to you, I am quite prepared to make your excuses to Bingley and the rest of the party, so that you would not have to suffer any further delay. Bingley or I could also inform your sister of the unfortunate turn of events, but I daresay you would prefer to inform her yourself."

Elizabeth nodded her appreciation of his suggestions, surprise at his thoughtfulness clearly evident in her countenance. Darcy failed to notice or chose not to acknowledge it.

"I believe I can safely speak for Bingley when I say that Miss Bennet would be more than welcome to extend her stay at Netherfield. You are the best judge of what should be done for your sister, of course, but perhaps she need not be told until her recovery is truly underway. Neither of us would wish to have it hindered by the anxiety your current family situation would undoubtedly cause. Moreover, she will probably be better attended at Netherfield, so that all the efforts at Longbourn could be spared for your father."

"I thank you for your consideration, Mr. Darcy, but Jane would prefer to be with her family at a time like this. She is, I believe, sufficiently recovered to hear the truth. I would not wish it to be withheld from me, had the situation been reversed."

"Yes, I should imagine so. As I said, you are the best judge of your sister's condition. There is but one question I need to ask before you leave, Miss Bennet," he added and approached her again. "It may appear a presumptuous interference, but I would beg you not to take offence and accept my offer in the spirit it was given."

He paused briefly and met her eyes. In response to the silent invitation found therein, Darcy resumed:

"Would you be so kind, Miss Bennet, to allow me to summon my physician from town to attend your father?"

Elizabeth gave an utterly unladylike gasp and her surprise at such a request was unmistakable. This from the man who only a few days ago had arrogantly and disdainfully dismissed the society of Meryton in general and herself in particular as beneath his notice? That he would condescend to offer his superior assistance to a family he only yesterday showed quite clearly that he thought so ill of was nothing short of incredible.

But no, I wrong him now. There was nothing condescending or presumptuous in his offer. On the contrary, she thought, he has shown himself mindful of my wishes and almost... considerate!

At length, she recollected herself sufficiently to answer, if not with perfect coherence, at least with perfect civility - indeed a lot more civility that she had only yesterday believed that the gentleman before her deserved.

"It is a very generous offer indeed, sir, and your kindness is greatly appreciated. However, I should never have presumed... That is... Such an obligation is..."

"No obligation is implied and none should be perceived, Miss Bennet," Darcy interjected kindly, but with the quiet determination of one used to carry his point. Only too aware of the pain of losing a beloved father, he could not allow this to happen to Elizabeth, of all people, if he could prevent it - but he could not tell her that. "Should I be in a position to offer assistance to my fellow man," he said instead, "I could not in good conscience withhold it. It is no more than you would expect from any of your neighbours..."

"But I did not expect it from you!" Elizabeth replied without thinking. She saw him start at this and blushed in severe mortification at her ill-judged comment.

"I beg you would excuse my unfortunate remark!" she apologised quietly. "Particularly today, in the face of your kind efforts on behalf of my family, I am indeed most..."

"Pray, Miss Bennet, let us waste no more time over this," Darcy replied, this time with all of his habitual coldness. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features as he added, "Should I ever have the good fortune of being able to be of service to you, Miss Bennet, I should not wish, by doing so, to forfeit the privilege of hearing your true opinion of me, unadulterated by expressions of gratitude. Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I should speak to Bingley and sent an express to Dr Helstone."

He bowed and would have left the library but for Elizabeth's urgent request:

"Mr. Darcy, please, I cannot allow you to leave without hearing my sincere apology. It is not prompted by gratitude, sir, but by justice. On this occasion at least, I had no intention to plague you with my impertinence," she added, and Darcy's displeasure softened at the familiar mixture of archness and sweetness that he knew so well, which had been missing from her repartee ever since she had read the note from Longbourn. She thought for a moment, then continued, "As I have just demonstrated, there is a lot to be said for thinking before opening one's mouth, and perhaps I should be mindful of this, and also of the old adage which claims that every attempt to correct a faux pas will only serve to make it worse; however, I cannot let you go without speaking my mind, sir. I was surprised by your kind offer, Mr. Darcy, and no, I was not expecting it, for a variety of reasons. It was also quite unexpected for me that, of all the persons of my acquaintance, I can think of but one other who would have been as thorough and as considerate in his offer of assistance. I thank you for your generous concern, sir, and I beg you would overlook my comment. It was unfortunate and was not meant as it sounded. I only wished to say that... there is more than meets the eye and that... it is worth remembering that first impressions are often misleading... sir."

Her eyes met his as she said this last, and this time it was not their mesmerising sparkle that sent Darcy's thoughts in ungovernable turmoil.

First impressions? Misleading? Whatever can she mean?

The assembly, of course!

Much to his mortification, Darcy remembered his distemper on the occasion, and that he had not presented his best face to the world that evening. He had snubbed her relations, her mother at least, if memory served, and...

Good God! 'Tolerable'! I called her tolerable, and in her hearing as well, by all accounts! No wonder she took offence! She must think me devoid of every proper feeling!

"Miss Bennet, I..."

Words failed him, and rightly so. What sort of apology could he offer, for such gratuitous and unprovoked insolence? Darcy could only hope that his actions would speak louder than his inconsiderate words, and that she would forgive him. Perhaps she already had. Did she not just now acknowledge that first impressions may have been misleading, and thanked him for his consideration?

And then he remembered the rest of her words. There was but one other who would have come to her aid in like fashion, she had said. An unreasonable, but nevertheless intense wave of jealousy swept over him. Who? Who was the man?

With an effort, he recollected himself. It mattered not. Much as it pained him to admit this, it could not matter to him whether she held another man in her esteem. He suddenly took his leave, impressing Elizabeth once more with the belief that indeed every attempt to correct a faux pas would only make matters worse, before she dismissed thoughts of everything else but her father's safety.

Chapter Two

Posted on Wednesday, 9 August 2006

The carriage raced to Longbourn as fast as the driver felt it was safe for it to do so, and almost as fast as Mr. Bingley had ordered him to travel.

Both gentlemen had come to see her off and offer wishes of speedy recovery for her father. Mr. Bingley was actually quite put out that the carriage had already been readied and waiting, as he felt it only proper that he should have driven her in his curricle, and went as far as to remonstrate with Darcy:

"Of course I do not mind you had already ordered the carriage, but send her off? What were you thinking, man?"

In truth, the man did think he would have liked to drive her to Longbourn himself, but there was little wisdom in doing so. There was little doubt that Miss Bennet would have preferred to be alone with her thoughts and her anxiety, and despite his compelling wish to be by her side and support her in this hour of need, he needed not remind himself it was not his place to do so. Instead, he watched her leave with a haggard look on her face that tore at his heart.

Elizabeth leaned her head against the cold window and closed her eyes. She had accomplished a swifter departure from Netherfield than she would have expected. Fortunately, the ladies of the house were from home, and she was not exposed to their insincere wishes and impertinent curiosity.

She had raced above stairs to Jane, to acquaint her with the worrisome news and it took all her powers of persuasion to deter Jane from her purpose to travel back to Longbourn with her on the same day. The sisters embraced and Elizabeth promised to send word with the returning carriage as to the current state of their father. She felt rather guilty at the thought that her insistence that Jane should not rush to Longbourn straight away was fuelled as much by concern for her sister's health as by her own reluctance to further delay her departure. She was wild to be at home - to hear, to see, to be upon the spot, and her impatience was severe.

Fortunately, the carriage had been readied by the time she had returned from Jane's chamber, and she could spy Mr. Bingley, as well as Mr. Darcy awaiting her arrival in earnest conversation. They fell silent as she approached, and Mr. Bingley stepped forward to offer his expressions of concern and support.

"Do not be concerned for your sister, Miss Bennet," he added, as he handed her in the carriage. "She will be well attended, and I shall personally see that she is safely delivered to Longbourn."

"I thank you, sir," Elizabeth smiled weakly at Bingley, before turning her eyes towards his friend. "And you, Mr. Darcy," she added.

Darcy took a step towards the carriage and bowed.

"Our thoughts and prayers are with your father, Miss Bennet," he said quietly. "Take heart, perhaps his condition is not as severe as your sister was led to believe. In any case, the express had been sent just over half-hour ago. Dr. Helstone should be with you before midnight."

Tears came to her eyes as her father's condition was mentioned, and Elizabeth looked away. "Thank you," she repeated, and he nodded, clutching his hands behind his back to stop himself from opening that blasted door and joining her in the carriage.

The agony of an ailing beloved father - he knew it too well. How could he bring himself to let her endure it alone, when all that he wished he could do was to hold her, and have her cry on his shoulder if she would?

Nevertheless, he lifted his hand in silent adieu as the carriage set off at Bingley's bidding, and Elizabeth responded briefly before sinking into the cushions, alone with her anxiety and her prayers.

The house was eerily quiet as she let herself in through the front door. There was no sign of Kitty or Lydia. Their mother, she knew, would have already taken to her bed, presumably even before the servants had had the chance to carry her father to his, but Elizabeth would have expected to hear her voice from the bottom of the stairs. Instead there was nothing and, gripped by fear, Elizabeth ran to her father's chamber.

The door was ajar and she could see Mrs. Hill beside the sick bed and, surprisingly, Kitty, wiping their father's brow with a cloth. He looked pale and very frail as he lay there, and Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears.

"Lizzy!" sounded the quiet but relief-filled voice of Mary from behind her, making her jump. "You are come. It is good to see you."

Kitty raised her eyes with a relieved sob and ran to her. Before knowing how it came about and whose was the initial impulse, Elizabeth found herself embracing both her sisters, damp faces against her own.

"How is Papa?" she asked as she pulled away.

Mary sighed, "There has been no change. Mr. Jones said he will return within the hour, and that we should attempt to keep him as comfortable as possible, not to speak to him or too near him and not attempt to move him. He will prepare some draughts which, he hopes, might help him recover his consciousness."

"He has not awaken then, since he was found?"

"No, not at all," replied Kitty brokenly, and Elizabeth covered her eyes with one hand, then forced a smile as she held her sisters' hands.

"There is hope, my dears! Mr. Darcy had sent for his physician and, he believes, we might be able to expect him by midnight..."

"Mr. Darcy?" asked both Kitty and Mary in utter disbelief, followed by a flurry of questions.

"How does he know our troubles?"

"And he would truly send for his own physician from town?"

"What does Jane think of this? How is she?"

"How is it that...?"

"Jane is well, and will return home tomorrow. As to Mr. Darcy, I happened to be in his company when your note arrived, Mary," Elizabeth interjected, eager to be done with all the explanations, "and yes, he kindly offered to send for his own doctor. Dr. Helstone is bound to know more than Mr. Jones what should be done for Papa! Which reminds me, Mrs. Hill, will you please see that a room is readied for him? It should be closest to Papa's. The amber room should do."

Hill bobbed a curtsey and left, with a reassuring pat on her young mistress' arm, and Mary smiled.

"It is good to have you back, Lizzy!," she said again.

"And Mamma? How is she? And Lydia?"

"Mamma took to her room straight away," replied Mary evenly. "Mr. Jones endeavoured to explain to her that we should all keep our voices down and that father should not be disturbed, but I fear in the end he had to administer some Laudanum..."

Remarkable inspiration! The effect will wear off soon enough, thought Elizabeth, and then chastised herself for the uncharitable thought.

"As for Lydia," Mary resumed, "I thought it best if she stayed with our aunt Phillips for a few days. Our Aunt had asked Kitty too, but she would not leave me."

Elizabeth squeezed Kitty's hand without conveying her surprise at her, for once, not having followed Lydia on the path to amusements. Instead, she urged both her sisters:

"You should rest now, you must be exhausted. I shall stay with Papa."

Marry and Kitty nodded, too tired to argue the point, and Elizabeth walked quietly to the chair Kitty had previously occupied, at her father's side. She leaned forward to gently brush his face with her fingers and suppressed a sob at the feel of the eerie coldness of his skin. Elizabeth bent her head to lay her cheek against the back of her father's motionless hand, then brushed her lips against it.

"Papa," she whispered. "Dearest Papa, return to us, I beg you. Do not leave us yet, Papa."

With a sigh, she remembered Mr. Jones' injunction against speaking to him, and resumed the brushing of his brow with a damp cloth, as she had seen Kitty do, and kept her fervent wishes and prayers to the privacy of her own heart.

Chapter Three

Posted on Sunday, 13 August 2006

Much to Elizabeth's, and indeed everybody's relief, Mr. Darcy had been proven right in his estimations. Some time before midnight, as Elizabeth and Mary were attending their father, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage. They could not see much, other than a small equipage having pulled up outside their front door. Elizabeth rushed downstairs, just as Mrs. Hill was admitting the visitor.

"I am come to see Mr. Bennet," the newcomer said, "at the request of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. I am Dr. Helstone."

Elizabeth advanced to him as she would to her saviour.

"Do come in, sir," she urged breathlessly. "We were expecting you. Thank you for arriving so promptly. My father's sick room is this way."

She led the way to her father's chamber where, at Dr. Helstone's request, a brief account of the occurrences of the day was given, with Mary's aid, in hushed whispers.

"You need not be overly concerned about keeping the sick room that quiet," Dr Helstone observed, as he bent over his bag to retrieve some items of necessity in examining his patient.

"Oh!" Elizabeth replied. "Mr. Jones, the apothecary, instructed my sisters to refrain from speaking to and around my father, and under no circumstances attempt to move him."

It was not politic for Dr. Helstone to publicly disagree with the opinion of the local disciple of Asclepius(*), however antiquated his practice and principles were, so the good doctor kept his response brief and to the point.

"Hm! While I would concur regarding any attempts to move your father, for the time being at least, I would not urge you to strive to be so silent. It is my belief that voices of loved ones may soothe the patient, and help reach him where my cordials might not. You both have pleasant voices, young ladies. I doubt your father would mind hearing you," the doctor added with a smile, and then bade them to retire and summon Mr. Bennet's man, so that he could examine the patient.

With the injunction lifted, Elizabeth bent over to kiss her father's brow and whispered, "I will leave you now, Papa, but I will not be long," then followed Mary out of the room. Mary offered to return to Mrs. Hill to order some refreshment for the doctor and summon the man to assist him. Elizabeth made her way to the amber room, to see for herself that the visitor chamber had been prepared to satisfaction, when she was arrested by a call from her mother's room.

"What is the matter? What is this commotion? Are we to be murdered in our sleep? I daresay it's better than starving in the hedgerows! Is anyone here? Hill! Hill!"

Elizabeth stepped back to close the door to her father's chamber and, with a long, deep sigh, entered her mother's room.

"Lizzy! What do you here? I thought you at Netherfield. And Jane? Is my dear child come too? She had not secured Mr. Bingley yet, had she? What are we to do, what are we to do? What is to become of us if your father passes away? Dear Lizzy, what is to become of us?"

Uncharitably, Elizabeth wished that her aunt Phillips had offered to take her mother for a few days, as well as Lydia and, failing that, for a fresh dose of Laudanum.

However, since she had neither at her disposal, she endeavoured to soothe her mother's spirits as best she could. She informed her of the arrival of Dr Helstone, leaving out the details concerning Mr. Darcy's role in the matter.

This intelligence will reach her mother soon enough, she sighed, prepared to be mortified by her expressions of gratitude as much as she had been by her mother's open dislike of the gentleman, manifested with no restraint since the Assembly.

Elizabeth endeavoured to remind herself that her mother's dislike was sharpened into particular resentment in response to the slight she herself had suffered from the part of the gentleman, and that Mrs. Bennet may have been mortifyingly loud and generally devoid of all decorum, but no-one, not even her least favourite daughter, could suspect her of lack of maternal feelings.

She could not forgive her mother for being concerned more for their future than for Mr. Bennet's condition per se, but at least she had to acknowledge that her mother was distressed about the fate and prospects of her progeny and not solely about her own material comforts.

Elizabeth listened with more patience than usual to her mother's account of tremblings and flutterings, spasms in her side, pains in her head and beatings at her heart. She wished Mrs. Bennet more capable of restraint and exertion, but wisely resolved not to pine for what could not be had. Her mother had required constant attendance in the face of minor vexations for as long as her daughters could remember and if she fancied herself nervous, then at least on this occasion her 'nerves' were more than justified.

As soon as her mother's monologue allowed, Elizabeth assured her that someone will be sent to her room with tea and a cordial but no, not Hill, as she was required below-stairs to attend to Dr. Helstone and his eventual instructions pertaining to her father. Her forbearance was taxed beyond endurance however when her mother required that the doctor attended her, as soon as he had had a chance to examine Mr. Bennet.

In her answer, Elizabeth endeavoured to put an end to every expectation of the kind and left the room devoid of any of the newly-acquired charitable feelings for her mother.

(*)Asclepius or Asklepios, in Greek Mythology, the god of medicine and healing.

Elizabeth returned to her father's room only to find Mary waiting outside the door for the doctor to announce that he had finished his examination. It did not take long before they were told that indeed he had.

"What news, then, Dr. Helstone?" Elizabeth asked breathlessly. "Is there anything you can tell us?"

"It is perhaps too soon to form a final opinion, Miss Bennet, but I have some ideas as to your father's state. There is a certain rumbling in his chest to indicate a condition he had had for a long time, possibly from as early as his birth, or as a result of a putrid fever in his childhood. This has somehow made him light-headed this morning and caused him to fall. It is mainly because of that fall that he had lost his consciousness. I would be inclined to believe that he had hit his head quite violently, to cause such a shock."

"So he will be well?!" interjected Elizabeth, wild with hope.

"He is in no immediate danger," replied Dr Helstone cautiously. "It is too soon to tell. Some people with his condition get to live a long and fruitful life ... and some do not. It is not widely known why it is so, and it is difficult to tell in advance whether the condition will worsen swiftly or slowly or not at all. I cannot tell you more at this juncture, other than I see no reason why your father should not regain his consciousness soon. When he does, he should be spared from exertions of any kind, and from any irritations and emotions, until we have had a chance to ascertain the true state of his health."

Having heard worse news than they hoped, but better than they expected, Mary and Elizabeth urged the doctor to take some refreshment and rest. The first was gratefully accepted, the later declined. It was therefore decided that Elizabeth will remain in the sick room, while Mary will keep the doctor company while he partook of a light repast. Then the doctor will return to the sick room and Mary will rest for a while, then come to relieve Elizabeth in the early hours of the morning.

It was in the early hours of the morning that it happened.

Dr. Helstone was dozing in a wing-chair, having spent the past hours keeping a close watch on Mr. Bennet's condition. At regular intervals he would stir and feel the patient's pulse and peer under his eyelids for signs known only to him. Elizabeth would watch in awed fascination as he would perform his tasks, then, as soon as Dr Helstone would return to his great chair, she would return to her father's side, hold his hand and talk to him.

She had at first started to talk about her time at Netherfield, with the thought that, as her father had always appreciated and had been highly diverted by inconsistencies of any kind, in their customary conversations, he might, in some way, hear her and be diverted by Miss Bingley's relentless pursuit of Mr. Darcy, by Mr. Hurst's propensity to fall asleep in company, by Mr. Darcy's deeply held opinions of his own superiority of mind, and ability to keep his pride under good regulation. Her father would have been diverted by that, she knew, almost as much as she herself had been.

However, she could not tell him any of these! Not only because she could not recount such occurrences in the presence of Mr. Darcy's personal physician, who might or might not be asleep at the time, but quite unexpectedly she came to see that she could not deride the man, not even for the amusement of her beloved father.

It was as she had told Mr. Darcy himself in the library. Yes, he had been offensive, overbearing, arrogant and prideful - No, I did not tell him that, thank goodness!, Elizabeth thought to herself with a smile, fully aware that she had said more than enough as it was - but with him, there appeared to be more than met the eye. And although in her mind Elizabeth could not even come close to reconciling the two sides of Mr. Darcy that she herself had been occasioned to see, she was willing to acknowledge that perhaps he was not quite as bad as the entire Meryton would have him and as for herself, she was prepared to forsake the past grievances, and remember nothing but the gratitude owed him for what he had done for her father.

As she could not divert Mr. Bennet with stories of Netherfield, Elizabeth would then bend close to her father's ear and tell him of the past. Follies and scrapes that he knew well of, and some that he did not. Little treasures, little secrets, memories of a time which would never return, and all for the hope that he would.

And later, when the last set of candles had almost burned out, he did. Elizabeth saw his eyelids flutter ever so slightly and would have dismissed this for idle hope and play of flickering light on tired eyes, had she not felt his fingers moving briefly under hers.

"Papa?" she asked quietly, but with all the hope she could muster, and all the love she felt for him.

"Lizzy?," came the faint whisper. "I thought you a dream ... I am so happy you are back ..."

"So am I, Papa. So am I." I am so happy you are.

Sunlight streaming through the bedroom window fell on Elizabeth's face and woke her just after eight o'clock, as she had hoped it would when she had left the curtains open. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. She could not have had more than four hours' sleep, but that did not matter! Taking as little time as possible, Elizabeth readied herself for the day and left her room. She stopped in her father's chambers to see how he was faring. In a quiet whisper, Mary told her that the doctor had decided that Mr. Bennet was now in a restful sleep, rather than in an unconscious state, before he himself repaired to the room they have readied for him, for a few hours' rest.

Kitty had not stirred yet, and neither had their mother, and Elizabeth decided she would not rouse them, not even for the good news. Kitty was too tired, and she was full young for all the pain of anxiety she had had to endure over the course of the last day. As for Mrs. Bennet, as soon as she awoke, the entire household would, and Elizabeth saw no occasion for that.

She went down to see to a light breakfast, to be served as soon as Dr Helstone would feel equal to it. As for herself and Mary, she took a tray for both of them to her father's bedroom. Mary was urged to rest, but she declined, saying that she did not feel too tired and that the day was to beautiful to be shut out. They spent the next hour in companionable silence, interrupted only by the doctor's arrival to check on the patient. Mary then accompanied Dr Helstone to the breakfast parlour, and Elizabeth was left with her father.

Much to her joy, they were still alone when he awoke, so she could come and embrace him quietly, kiss his brow and not have to share him either with any of her sisters, or with the doctor's professional concern. The only effort required of her was to stem the tide of her tears.

"There, there," Mr. Bennet patted her head affectionately, his own eyes moist. "Have I given you a lot of trouble, then?"

"Not overmuch!" said Elizabeth, laughing through her tears. "You are well now, thank goodness, and that is all that matters."

"What happened?"

To that, Elizabeth gave as brief and placid an account as she could possibly muster. She may have had tears in her eyes as she had greeted her father when he awoke, and that could not be helped, but the excessive display of emotion, and harmful anxiety - which the doctor had warned so strongly against - could.

They spent a happy half-hour together, talking of everything and nothing and simply enjoying each other's company, then the doctor returned, and Elizabeth found it expedient, rather than desirable, to leave them and go to their mother, to inform her of their good fortune.

Elizabeth prided herself to be a great connoisseur of human folly, and an even greater one of her mother's, but even to her, Mrs. Bennet's reaction was a surprise.

As soon as she heard the news, her mother left her bed and donned her robe in great haste, all the while exclaiming as loudly as only she could, and thoroughly disregarding her daughter's pleas for calm and silence.

"Lord bless me! Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! And is it really true? Your father is alive and well? My dear, dear Mr. Bennet, how good of you! Did I not tell you, Lizzy, that you girls have the very best of fathers? He could not bear to leave you all destitute and has exerted himself! Ring the bell, Lizzy, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. Oh, the joy! We will not have to make way for that odious cousin of his! I will go to Meryton, as soon as I am dressed, and tell the good, good news to my sister Phillips. Can I do anything for you girls in Meryton? And as I come back, I can call on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Lizzy, run down and order the carriage. An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. But first I must see your father!"

There was no hope at all in Elizabeth preventing her, not even bodily restraint would have served (for modern eyes, read that as rugby tackle) - and the abominable truth is that her daughter did contemplate, for the briefest of moments, such extreme measures.

And so, to everyone's shock, not least the doctor's, a moment later, Mrs. Bennet burst in her husband's chambers, bedclothes, robe and frilly cap fluttering about her, and flung herself at him, with a cry of "Oooooh! Mr. Bennet !!!"

"What in God's name-!!" the doctor cried, shocked beyond anything he had experienced in his life. "Madam, desist! Desist at once!" he ordered, attempting to rescue his patient from the sudden onslaught. "I demand that you unhand my patient, remove yourself immediately from the sick chamber and cease this dreadful racket! Miss Bennet," he cried to a mortified Elizabeth, "who is this woman?"

For once in her life, Mrs. Bennet did Elizabeth a great kindness and preserved her from having to provide an answer to this question, for she squared her shoulders, raised herself at full height and replied:

"I am the Mistress of this house! And who are you, sir, to address me in such intolerable a fashion?"

But before the doctor could respond, Mrs. Bennet, who may have been of mean understanding, but not entirely devoid of perception, remembered that the irate gentleman had asked her to unhand his patient, and her indignation instantly left her.

The same, however, could not be said of Dr Helstone, who, after briefly checking that his patient did not suffer a relapse, turned to Mrs. Bennet and addressed her firmly:

"Madam, I am Dr. Reginald Helstone, at your service. As the one person fully responsible for your husband's health, I deem it of utmost importance, Madam, that I speak to you in private, as soon as may be. Would you be so kind as to grant me an audience in the morning room at your earliest convenience?"

A very subdued Mrs. Bennet nodded her acquiescence and disappeared to dress. The doctor excused himself and proceeded below stairs. Elizabeth came to embrace her father. As to Mr. Bennet, as soon as the door closed, burst in the most violent access of mirth he had experienced in the whole course of his life - and under the circumstances, it was strange and wonderful that he had survived it.

When Mrs. Bennet entered the breakfast room, Dr Helstone was pacing, with his hands behind his back, in an attitude which would have instantaneously reminded Elizabeth of his illustrious patient from Derbyshire. He bowed in greeting and waited for Mrs. Bennet to take a seat, which she did, with a great deal of fidgeting.

"Madam, if you would allow me," he began, "I would like to present my apologies for my manner of address in the sick chamber. I was unaware of whom I had the honour of speaking to," he added, and to his credit, not a single muscle twitched at this assertion. "I however feel incumbent upon me to warn you, Madam, that such displays must cease forthwith. Your husband's condition is a delicate one. He has been fortunate to survive this attack but, if I may be so blunt as to warn you, he might not survive the next. He must be therefore protected from exertion, emotion and anxiety of any kind, not only now, when he had just started on the path to recovery, but also in future. It is your responsibility, Madam, and that of your daughters, to be as preventive as possible in order to ensure Mr. Bennet's continued state of heath. It may sound harsh, Madam, but I cannot withhold the truth from you. Vex him, teaze him, even worry him as to his state of health, and you stand a good chance of killing him!"

Frances Bennet, née Gardiner, had always fancied herself of a nervous disposition and had indulged in many a fit of vapours over the entire course of her life. It came as a great shock, therefore, on this sunny autumn day and in the autumn of her days, to experience her first real fainting fit.

The good doctor revived her and then, at Mrs. Bennet's request, kindly escorted her to her room, from whence she did not stir until the following morning, when she quietly roused herself and joined the family at the breakfast table with less disturbance than anyone had ever thought possible.

Chapter Four

Posted on Thursday, 17 August 2006

Soon after her mother was escorted by the doctor to her room, Elizabeth left her father in Mary's capable hands and joined Kitty, who had been roused by the commotion, to the breakfast parlour. It was with great joy that Kitty received the news of her father's improved condition. With some alarm, Kitty then inquired as to the source of the disturbance, then speculated on what could Dr Helstone have said to their mother to render her so subdued.

Elizabeth could only guess but, as she had been warned the night before, after Dr Helstone had completed his examination, her guess could not be too far off the mark. They were in earnest conversation as to the ways to persuade their mother, and particularly Lydia, to be more attentive to their father's comfort - not knowing that Mrs. Bennet had perforce been already persuaded - when the sound of a carriage drew their attention.

"You should not spy from the window, Kitty, it's hardly ladylike!" Elizabeth remonstrated, but without too much conviction. After a day and a night such as they had, they deserved any entertainment there was to be had.

"Oh, Lizzy, don't scold, it's Jane! She is come!" Kitty cried, and both sisters rushed breathlessly to meet the carriage, which had by that time come to a halt before their front door. It was indeed Jane, but she was not alone. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had apparently accompanied the carriage on horseback.

As Elizabeth and Kitty hurried outside, Mr. Bingley, who had been the first to dismount, rushed to open the door for Jane and hand her down, then greeted the Miss Bennets. Mr. Darcy dismounted more leisurely and handed the reins to a stable lad, before turning towards the ladies, by which time he had lost all their attention, as Elizabeth and Kitty rushed to embrace Jane and to respond to her eager questions:

"What news? What news, Lizzy? How does Papa?"

"Better. He's better, Jane, praise the Lord!" Elizabeth exclaimed with fervour, tears sparkling in her eyes, and the breath caught in Darcy's throat.

She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld! Without a doubt, she is!

Love shone in her eyes as clearly as the glimmer of tears, and Darcy was shaken to the core to witness it.

The thought of such light being sparked by love for him almost brought tears to his eyes. Almost, but not quite. Years of rigorous discipline had served him well, and Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley was able to step forward with perfect civility, as well as the semblance of perfect composure, when the ladies were ready to greet him and his friend.

"Mr. Bingley!", Elizabeth spoke for herself and Kitty, "thank you for returning my sister to us. And Mr. Darcy," she added, with a smile that lit up her face and her eyes, "a pleasure to see you, sir."

Fool! Ten times a fool and worse than a fool! Darcy berated himself, as her friendly look and undivided attention made small work of all his valiant efforts and wise resolutions. To have thought all this time at Netherfield that she enjoyed my company as we bantered! This is how she looks when she is pleased to see me. Then, I'd wager, she could barely tolerate me!

The irony of himself being barely tolerable did not escape him and was quite welcome, on closer inspection, as it brought a smile to his lips and prevented him from feeling something akin to despondency.

"I am delighted to hear of your father's improvement, Miss Bennet", Bingley said, his eyes just for Jane. "May I offer my most sincere congratulations."

Darcy seconded his friend with sentiments as sincere, although more reservedly expressed; the ladies thanked them both and extended an invitation to the house for some refreshment.

"We would not wish to intrude...", said Bingley half-heartedly, but as there was a general wish that they accept the invitation, it did not take much pressure for the entire party to make its way into the parlour. Refreshments were ordered and promptly Jane excused herself to see her father, followed by Kitty.

Much to Bingley's delight, Jane returned shortly, as Mr. Bennet was currently resting. Dr. Helstone accompanied her and advanced with a broad smile towards Darcy.

"Mr. Darcy, it is good to see you, sir. I have heard you were visiting and I could not but allow myself the pleasure of paying my respects".

Darcy bowed in response, with considerably less reserve than he had exhibited since his arrival.

"The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Helstone, I assure you, as well as the gratitude for all your efforts on behalf of Mr. Bennet", he said, advancing towards the other man with his hand outstretched, and they shook hands with the obvious mutual respect of people of good breeding and excellent understanding.

Elizabeth could not let it stand without looking earnestly at both as she said:

"I would like to take this opportunity, gentlemen, to thank you both for saving my father's life. Let me assure you that your unprecedented kindness is deeply felt by this family," - Jane nodded earnestly at this - "and that I owe you a debt of gratitude which I could never repay".

Darcy looked distinctly pained at this but it escaped unnoticed, as they all turned their attention to the doctor, who replied:

"In all honesty, Miss Bennet, I cannot take credit for it. Your father was simply ready to awaken from the shock he had suffered, quite independently of anything I might have done. I have in truth done nothing but keep an eye on his progress."

Refreshments being served necessarily prevented any reply from being made and Elizabeth and Jane busied themselves with preparing the tea and coffee. Only Dr. Helstone noticed Darcy taking a few steps away to withdraw to his familiar posture by the window and joined him there.

"You are well, I hope, Mr. Darcy," he enquired casually.

"Quite so, I thank you," the other man roused himself from private ruminations. "You need not trouble yourself with concern on my behalf," he quipped, to mask his discomfort, "as I have no intention to see you as a patient on this occasion. However," he added, with sudden earnestness, "I would greatly appreciate a private interview before you leave the country. Perhaps you would be so kind to call on me at the estate I am currently visiting. It is but three miles from hence. Netherfield it is called, and it belongs to my friend Mr. Bingley, whom I believe you have already met."

"Yes," Bingley interjected, "I have had the pleasure. And I have been thinking," he addressed the company to ascertain their sentiments, "should Mr. Bennet be sufficiently recovered as to not require your constant attention, but still benefit from your occasional visits, perhaps I could persuade Dr Helstone to remove to Netherfield."

"You are very kind, Mr. Bingley", the doctor replied non-committally, as no such plans could as yet be fixed, then excused himself to see to some draughts which should be ordered for Mr. Bennet from the local apothecary.

Shortly after, Bingley inquired of Miss Bennet whether she might find a turn about the garden refreshing, after the anxieties of the day, and whether she would object to him offering his company. This was demurely but with obvious pleasure accepted, and to Darcy's mortification and delight, he found himself alone with Elizabeth.

All reason urged that he should keep to the window, yet he found himself propelled back to the sofa, at her side, and not by politeness.

"Are you well, Miss Bennet?" he enquired with a gentleness of address he could not fully subdue. "You must be very tired."

"Quite so," she smiled, "but it is of no consequence. My father is well, and that is all the restorative I need at present. Please allow me to thank you again for your role in this affair!"

Darcy all but winced. Gratitude! He did not want her gratitude!

What is it that you want, then?

The answer was simple and it came to him in a moment, fully acknowledged and accepted as the absolute truth. He did not want her gratitude. He wanted her love.

Ah, but to what purpose? That was the material point!

Darcy forced such thoughts aside to address the problem at hand. He would not let her dwell on feelings of obligation to him as a passer-by who condescended to scatter good deeds just as fancy took him. It was a favourable light, perhaps, but he did not want that. He wanted her to understand, at least in part.

He could not tell her all, he knew he could not - nay, he knew he should not! - but he could overcome his reserve to tell her at least part of the truth that had urged him on.

"My own excellent father died five years ago, after a long and painful illness, Miss Bennet", he said quietly, "yet the pain of separation is still fresh, both for myself and for my sister. You are very close to your father, it is plain to see, and I could not have you experience his loss, if I could prevent it. Nor any of your sisters," he amended hastily.

Elizabeth nodded her understanding and her appreciation of the sentiment as it had been offered, without noticing the undertones of what was almost implied but then hastily concealed. She found herself quite at a loss for something to say, which in itself was an unsettling novelty in her dealings with that gentleman.

She had willfully plagued him and teazed him, always bordering on the uncivil, and had almost never spoken to him without rather wishing she gave him pain than not.

And then it emerged that Mr. Darcy was human after all, and a good man at that, and Elizabeth was at a loss as to how to respond to this, without the aid of her customary archness and youthful impertinence, and particularly how to respond to such a heartfelt disclosure as the one he had just made.

"I am sorry," she offered at last. "I did not know..."

"No, you could not have. It is not generally known outside the family. I told you because I knew you would understand. We neither of us perform to strangers."

A smile passed between them and it was all that Darcy could do not to gasp. This was what he had imagined, only the day before, in Netherfield's library. Elizabeth's smile as she would raise her eyes and cast him a look of shared understanding and companionship.

But not love.

There was not a hint of tender sentiments in her eyes. He might have foolishly mistaken archness for interest in the past, or he might have even been drawn to confuse her current friendliness for something more, had he not known better now. He had been given the privilege to see into her heart earlier that day, at the very beginning of this his first visit to Longbourn, and he could not flatter himself any longer with the thought that Elizabeth, like any other woman of his acquaintance, would welcome his addresses, should he ever choose to pay them.

It would behoove him therefore to accept three plain truths.

Elizabeth was quite unlike any woman of his acquaintance.

She had not displayed any real interest in him.

And thirdly, all that he could claim was gratitude and, cautiously, a newly established and fragile friendliness.

He should have been pleased by this state of affairs. A Pemberley alliance could not be forged at Longbourn, his well-trained reason told him that. But reason felt cold and uninviting, and her eyes were warm and full of a joy of life such as he had never beheld.

"Miss Bennet..."

To the end of his days, Darcy remained unable to tell what he had been about to say that warm autumn morning in Hertfordshire.

He did not have the occasion to find out. Mrs. Hill appeared in the doorway and announced:

"A Mr. Collins to see your father, Miss Bennet. Will you see him now or shall I ask him to call another time?"

Chapter Five

Posted on Friday, 18 August 2006

Elizabeth turned to the housekeeper and a knowing look passed between them. The name was as familiar to them as it was to be expected, considering the number of times Mrs. Bennet had mentioned it, invariably adorned with a collection of epithets, of which 'odious' was of the mildest order.

What is the man doing here? He could not be aware of Papa's condition, surely! she mused, her thoughts a jumble, as she tried to settle on a course of action.

At length, she decided it would be best if she saw him now, rather than in her mother's presence. As for her dear Papa, even if the man were to be the best company possible, it could not do him a jot of good at present to be reminded of the threat of the entail.

Could he be a sensible, amiable man? she wondered.

With a cursory apology towards Mr. Darcy, whose countenance had become even more closed than previously as he walked slowly back towards one of the windows, Elizabeth indicated that she should address this matter herself, and asked Mrs. Hill to show the gentleman in.

The man whose name had always put Mrs. Bennet in mind of hedgerows was finally admitted to the parlour. He was heavy looking and appeared to be of around five and twenty. His dress was that of a clergyman, his air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. As soon as he was admitted to her presence, he bowed deeply and thus began:

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. I must admit to being somewhat perturbed by the irregularity of intruding upon your notice, without a formal introduction, but I flatter myself that you would kindly overlook it, in view of our family connection. It is my firm belief as well that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy, for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom - provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained... In short, in my position of a rector, and moreover as your father's cousin, allow me, Miss Bennet, to recommend myself as your faithful servant, Rev. William Collins."

Drawn by the curious spectacle, Darcy turned towards the room, an eyebrow arched in surprise and disdain. What was the pompous fool talking about?

He could not see the newcomer well, just his obsequiously bowed back and part of his face, but it was no apparent loss. His manner of address sufficed.

At the end of his discourse, Rev. Collins bowed again and advanced towards Elizabeth with a simpering smile. "You must be Mr. Bennet's eldest daughter."

"His second eldest, sir. My eldest sister Jane is currently taking a turn in the garden in the company of one our neighbours."

"I should be delighted to make her acquaintance, and that of all your sisters. I have heard by common report that Mr. Bennet's daughters are all delightful and exceedingly amiable, and given your kind reception of me, cousin, allow me to say that fame had fallen short of the truth."

Elizabeth nodded her half-hearted acknowledgement of such an awkward compliment, and he continued:

"You will forgive me, but I had hoped to meet with your esteemed mother and father ... I have allowed myself the pleasure of writing your father some time ago, and he has kindly responded favourably to my present overtures. In my position of a clergyman, particularly one so fortunate as to be distinguished by the noble patronage of one of the most illustrious persons in the land, I felt it my duty to promote and establish the blessings of peace in all families within the reach of my influence."

Elizabeth attempted to stem the flow of his discourse, vexed at the thought of the entire family history being aired in such a mortifying fashion in the presence of Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Collins held up a hand to prevent her.

"Allow me, Miss Bennet, to conclude by saying, as I have had the pleasure of explaining to your father in my letter, that the disagreement subsisting between my late honoured father and yours always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach..."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to interrupt again, but his monologue could not be stopped. It gave the distinct impression that he was reciting from a well-learned script, and that he could not allow any interruptions, for fear he would lose his place and forget what he was about to say. She sighed and resigned herself to it.

"...but for some time I was held back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with any one with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance. However, as I have already had the occasion to mention, given my position, my illustrious patronage, our family connection ... in short, I flatter myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your family's side, and will not lead your father to reject the offer of an olive branch."

"Sir, please allow me to..."

"I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring you and your amiable sisters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make you every possible amends - but of this thereafter. I proposed myself the satisfaction of waiting on your family today, Monday, October 18th, and trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday sen'night following, and as your father has kindly agreed to the scheme, well... here I am. I should be delighted to make the acquaintance of all your esteemed family as soon as may be. Your father was expecting me, but I presume he had been called away for urgent estate business..."

"Please allow me to apologise on my father's behalf, Mr. Collins," Elizabeth said as soon as he had allowed it, "as he is at present unable to receive you".

"Oh!" Mr. Collins said, confused and visibly offended. "Was he obliged to travel to town?"

"No, sir," Elizabeth sighed, unable to avoid answering so direct a question. "I am afraid he was taken ill yesterday."

From his position at the other end of the room, Darcy could only wonder whether the newcomer had indeed been devoid of all decency as to betray the fact that this was not an altogether unwelcome intelligence for him. Elizabeth, however, who had a full command of his countenance, had no need to wonder, and the fleeting glimmer of interest, soon replaced with an air of pious concern was not of a nature to inspire her with better feelings.

Her first impulse was to advise the Reverend that under the circumstances, his visit should be deferred to another time, but it occurred to her that it would not be in her family's best interest to offend him. With great forbearance, she briefly acknowledged his elaborate and obviously insincere wishes for a speedy recovery and extended an invitation for Mr. Collins to take some refreshment. This was accepted with alacrity and the clergyman advanced to take the seat Mr. Darcy had previously occupied. Just as he attempted to lower himself onto the sofa, however, he happened to look up and for the first time to take notice of the tall gentleman next to the window. He remained immovable with surprise for a few moments, in this ungainly posture, then straightened his back, only to bow again.

Well aware that Darcy will not thank her for the introduction, Elizabeth knew not how she could avoid it. With obvious displeasure, she said:

"Mr. Darcy, please allow me to introduce my cousin, Rev. Collins. Mr. Collins, this is..."

"Mr. Darcy?!" interrupted the clergyman advancing to him. "Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?"

"Indeed. I do not remember the pleasure, sir," replied Darcy with the sort of withering civility which had stopped the effusions of better men.

It had no effect on Mr. Collins.

"But this is a most wonderful and unexpected honour!" he exclaimed and bowed solemnly. "Who would have thought of my meeting with the nephew of my most esteemed patroness in this part of the country! I am most thankful that the discovery was made and I can only bemoan my oversight in not being aware of your presence earlier, sir. I trust you would be so kind as to overlook it and allow me to inform you that your most excellent Aunt and her esteemed daughter, the fair Miss de Bourgh, were in the very best of health yesterday afternoon, when I had the honour to assist in forming a quadrille table at Rosings."

"I am glad to hear it," replied Darcy in a clipped tone.

Mr. Collins however was not discouraged from speaking again, in his habitual pompous and alembicated phrases, about Lady Catherine de Bourgh's bounty and beneficence; the magnificence of Rosings Park in the autumn and indeed in any season, particularly in the summer, as Lady Catherine herself has kindly observed to him once; about Lady Catherine's affability and condescension and Miss de Bourgh's superior beauty, which would adorn the most elevated rank; and finally about Darcy's own kindly bestowed solicitude in visiting with the family of his afflicted cousin.

Elizabeth could see Darcy's contempt abundantly increasing with the length of this second speech and was vexed beyond measure to see Mr. Collins exposing himself to ridicule in such a fashion, and before such a man.

At the end, Darcy only made him a slight bow, and moved back towards Elizabeth.

"I believe it is time for me to take my leave now, Madam," he said, his voice cold and expressionless. Elizabeth briefly lifted her eyes, long enough to recognise the forbidding countenance of the Meryton Assembly. She looked away, with a feeling of disappointment she could not fully justify. Their latest conversations had led her to expect better of him but, in truth, she could not fault him for it, not on this occasion.

"Of course," she said flatly and rose to see him out.

Mr. Collins came to her side and bowed again, very deeply.

"Despite our relatively short acquaintance, I am persuaded that my young cousin will allow me to speak for her, and indeed on behalf of the entire family, and say that the honour of your visit has been deeply felt, sir."

Darcy clasped his hands behind his back. How dare he?

Elizabeth's eyes flared dangerously and, despite her earlier intentions to show as much forbearance as possible, she was about to let Mr. Collins know that she had been able to speak for herself these twenty years together, when Jane and Mr. Bingley joined them, and shortly after, Mary. Introductions were necessarily performed and civilities followed, Mr. Collins's more convoluted and abundant than the rest, but in the end Darcy had his wish to finally ride away from Longbourn and the insufferable little man.

He pulled the reins tighter without meaning to, unsettling his horse. How could Elizabeth and, for that matter, Miss Bennet, have come from the midst of such a family?

The connection was impossible, utterly impossible! The thought of introducing any of them - even Mr. Bennet, on occasion - to his family and general acquaintance brought a shudder of disgust. Why was it that the only woman he found that he could love had to have such deuced unsuitable relations? His aunt's parson, no less, and a pompous, obsequious fool at that!

Darcy stared grimly ahead. Perhaps he ought to be grateful to the annoying man for the timing of his arrival, no matter how much it had riled him at the time. Was he about to propose?

He did not know - and that was the absolute truth. He did not know. A long sigh escaped him.

"Are you well, Darcy?" Bingley asked. "You seem rather out of spirits."

Well? I doubt I would ever be well, Charles.

He needed to think. He desperately needed to think.

"I wonder what was the fellow come for. It sounds rather harsh, on such short an acquaintance, but I cannot say I like him," Bingley spoke, half to himself.

Darcy made no reply, although he fully concurred with the sentiment, and with better reasons. The conversation - or rather monologue - that he had happened to witness gave him much to think about. The clergyman had rambled far and low, but Darcy could not miss the salient points: that Collins stood to inherit Longbourn in the absence of male heirs, and that he had arrived at Longbourn to pacify a family feud and make his young cousins 'every possible amends'.

A morning in the man's company sufficed to persuade Darcy that he was too self-absorbed to envisage a legacy or any other generous gesture of the kind, and moreover, he doubted that Longbourn's income would permit it.

It was but a step to the next conclusion, and Darcy felt a wave of nausea at the thought. Collins's idea of amends presumably was to marry one of them, and remind her to the end of her days of her good fortune.

The thought was more than he could bear.

But none of them would accept him, surely, not such a man. She would not accept him!

It was one thing to doubt the wisdom of offering for Elizabeth, and quite another to think of her as Mrs. Collins, tied forever to that intolerable man, her spirit broken by his weak-minded condescension and mortifying stupidity.

The thought that she might see fit to sacrifice her chances of happiness for the sake of her family, particularly in view of her father's illness, brought such an acute anxiety in Darcy as to make him turn his steed about with so little warning that he was almost thrown off. What on earth was he thinking, to leave her like that, and to leave that creature in the Bennet household, at a time like this?

"We must return, Bingley!" he threw over his shoulder, sending the younger man in utter confusion.

"Whatever is the matter? Have you forgotten anything of consequence?"

Darcy made no answer. This was not the time to share today's intelligence with Bingley, and in point of fact, he doubted the wisdom of ever telling him at all. Bingley's infatuation with Miss Bennet was another cause for concern, both for the unsuitability of the connection, and for the young lady's obvious placidity. There was no indication that she had any deep feelings for his friend, but Darcy doubted not that she would have accepted him, to raise her family's fortunes - and while Darcy had no objection to that, particularly in view of the entail, he would not see the Bennets restored at the cost of Bingley's felicity.

His friend deserved better than a marriage of convenience.

"You can be quite infuriating sometimes, Darcy, you know!" remarked Bingley good-naturedly, "particularly when you ignore a pointed question."

Darcy laughed. "I am sorry, Bingley. I was distracted, but that is no excuse, particularly as I have a favour to ask."

"Anything, Darcy, as you well know."

"I was about to offer your carriage to that fellow Collins, if you do not mind. He has dismissed the hack chaise when he arrived, and I wanted to ensure that he will have no reason not to make it to the Red Lion in Meryton. The Bennets can hardly be expected to accommodate a houseguest at a time like this."

"Do you know, I was just thinking of that myself! This is precisely why I extended the invitation to Dr. Helstone. In point of fact, I was just about to ask, when you provided me with such an entertaining display of fine horsemanship, whether you thought it expedient to invite Reverend Collins to Netherfield."

"Heaven help us! Charles, have you not spoken to the man?"

"His conversation is, I admit, rather ... wholesome".

"And plenty to be had of it! Come, Bingley, let us offer him the carriage, and pray that there is plenty of room at the inn."

Chapter Six

Posted on Monday, 28 August 2006

Elizabeth drew a long, deep breath of the fresh morning air and the joy of being once more outdoors put a spring in her step. She smiled as the swallows soared in the clear sky, fringed with the warm hues of red and gold and yellow of the autumn leaves.

Life at Longbourn had once more settled into some semblance of normality - sufficiently so, she thought grimly, that they felt equal to return Lydia to it, to restore the balance of equanimity and chaos.

Dr. Helstone had recommended that Mr. Bennet kept to his room, if not his bed, for a few days at least, so that he should be spared the effort of ascending the stairs, and as long as he had his favourite books brought up to him, as well as Elizabeth's company, her father had submitted to the change in his daily routine without much reluctance.

During one of their mornings together, she had deemed appropriate to acquaint him with some of the occurrences that he had still been left in the dark about. The connection between Dr. Helstone and Mr. Darcy was already known to her father. The doctor had informed him of it himself, prior to leaving Longbourn and accepting Mr. Bingley's invitation to stay awhile at Netherfield. As to the rest, Elizabeth was unsure whether her father was sufficiently recovered as to hear what she had to impart, without any risk to his health, but she wisely decided that it was better for that knowledge to come from her, at a well-chosen moment, than sprung on him at any other time. With a good measure of care, Elizabeth informed her father of Mr. Collins's visit, and of his presence in the neighbourhood.

"Oh! I have completely forgotten of the peace-making gentleman!" Mr. Bennet had quipped, ill at ease. "I am rather disappointed to have missed the chance of making his acquaintance. There was a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter which promised great delights!"

Elizabeth had patted his arm, well aware of her father's habit of reverting to sarcasm in an attempt to conceal genuine concern. She hoped, for his sake, that the unwelcome intelligence did not perturb him unduly, and had refrained from telling him that of some delights, a little can go a long way!

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of his removal to Meryton, then?" her father had asked, in the same vein, but Elizabeth could detect genuine interest there.

"Mr. Bingley had offered him his carriage, soon after he arrived," she replied, shaking her head with a rueful smile as she had remembered the scene.

On the day of Mr. Collins' first visit, the gentlemen had barely left Longbourn, with Mr. Bingley's empty carriage following them at a reasonable distance, when the party gathered at the door to see them off suddenly saw them returning, before they had even reached the end of the drive leading to the main gate.

At the sight of the nephew of his most esteemed patroness, Mr. Collins had advanced to a safe distance from the said gentleman's rather irritable horse, and had proceeded to bow repeatedly, until Mr. Darcy had dismounted and addressed him.

"My friend has just become aware that you may require transport to Meryton, sir," Mr. Darcy had announced curtly, "and as you are undoubtedly eager to find lodgings there before nightfall, he would like to offer you the use of his carriage," he concluded, his words confirmed by Bingley's nod and polite invitation.

To Elizabeth's barely suppressed amusement, Mr. Collins had frozen in mid-bow, looking quite baffled from Mr. Darcy to the house and back again.

It was more than obvious to everyone that he had entertained no thoughts of finding alternative lodgings for himself, and that he was most put out by the assumption that he should. He had opened his mouth and closed it again, quite visibly unable to disagree in any way with the suggestion offered by a member of such an illustrious family. Under Elizabeth's amused scrutiny, however, his countenance suddenly changed from baffled displeasure to awed delight and he had resumed his bow and had regained the power of speech.

Elizabeth had rather regretted the latter, as her mortifying cousin could barely contain his joy for the unexpected attention received from a most gratifying quarter, and the length of his discourse was testament to his elevated sentiments.

Elizabeth had bit her lip in annoyance at the sight of Mr. Darcy's evident disdain, and she had tried to catch his eye and silently express her gratitude, as well as her regret, for the mortification he had brought himself to endure on behalf of her family, but the gentleman had appeared quite determined to avoid looking towards any of the Bennet sisters.

It was only after Mr. Collins had scurried into the awaiting carriage, his belongings relegated thence by a few very efficient servants, that he had looked in her direction and bowed, before mounting his horse and riding away with Mr. Bingley, his back straight and his countenance expressionless.

Elizabeth remembered having returned to the house then, intrigued in no small measure by a man she had thoroughly despised no more than a week previously.

She could not make him out any more than she could fully account for the reasons behind his offer of assistance. Had the willingness to relieve their burdens come from Mr. Bingley alone, she could have easily ascribed it to the most reasonable cause. It was clear to anyone that Mr. Bingley appeared to harbour tender sentiments for a member of her family. The thought that Mr. Darcy would be motivated by the same, however, was utterly preposterous! Mr. Darcy of all people, with his long list of talents required of a truly accomplished woman, having his attention drawn by ... Kitty? Improbable. Mary? Not likely! Lydia? She giggled at this. Hardly! As to herself, she had learned from the very beginning of their acquaintance that as far as Mr. Darcy was concerned, she was merely tolerable.

The reminiscence did not divert her half as much as it had done in the past, but Elizabeth had no desire to dwell on the thought. No good could ever come of that!

Elizabeth was forced to content herself with the explanation Mr. Darcy had offered, that the loss of his own father had prompted him to request Dr. Helstone's assistance on their behalf. As to his role in removing Mr. Collins from the premises, it had presumably been at his friend's instigation that Mr. Darcy had been prepared to use his influence, as the nephew of Mr. Collins' patroness, and persuade the annoying man to leave them in peace, at least for the day! It was easier that way. It was much easier to take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood!

Regardless of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's motivation, however, they might have been successful in dissuading Mr. Collins from his intentions of being a guest at Longbourn, but could not altogether spare them from the pleasure of his society.

Elizabeth was glad that she had acquainted her father with the details of their cousin's previous visit, so that his next would be somewhat expected.

Mr. Collins had written her father from the Red Lion, to express his concern and his wishes for a speedy recovery and Mr. Bennet had little choice in the matter but to invite him to dine with the family in a few days' time.

Elizabeth dreaded her mother's response to the communication, and to her surprise, she had actually experienced not an insubstantial amount of concern for her least favourite parent, in the face of Mrs. Bennet's obvious distress at the intelligence and, unaware of the conversation between her mother and Dr. Helstone, Elizabeth marvelled at the fact that Mrs. Bennet's proverbial nerves did not even get mentioned in that conversation.

Later in the evening, however, the extent of her mother's suffering was made known to her and to Jane, in a private conversation in Mrs. Bennet's chambers, and Elizabeth had found herself attempting to comfort her mother with a filial embrace which, to the best of her knowledge, was an unheard-of occurrence in the last ten or fifteen years!

Mrs. Bennet's forbearance was rewarded the next day with Mr. Collins's readily expressed intention to make her daughters every possible amends, and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

The same could not be said of her father. Although Mr. Bennet had indulged for a while in the mischievous pleasure of listening to and occasionally prompting their cousin's follies and absurdities, Elizabeth could tell that Mr. Collins's presence, under the recent circumstances of his less than perfect health, had become a source of anxiety to her father and was delighted by Mary's wisdom and delicacy of spirit in preventing Mr. Collins from disturbing their father in the library and asking him instead to take a turn about the garden with her and discuss some matters of great doctrinal import she could not make out, after having read a particular chapter of Mr. Fordyce's sermons!

Elizabeth had discovered, to her amazement, unknown depths to her younger sisters. Both Mary and Kitty had been a source of wonder in their ability to rise to the challenge Mr. Bennet's state of health had imposed on their family. Mary had forsaken her long hours of study to care for their father and support Jane and Elizabeth in managing the household, in the self-imposed absence of their mother. As to Kitty, although she was at a loss as to how to go about it, Elizabeth was touched to see her increased desire to be noticed by and be of use to their father. It was Lydia's behaviour alone that remained a source of concern.

It was decided between the sisters, as their mother still kept mostly to her room, that Elizabeth and Kitty would benefit from some exercise, having been unable to stir too far from their home since their father had taken ill, and so they were to walk into Meryton and pay a call to their Aunt Phillips, to inform her of their father's improved condition - as, after the interview with Dr. Helstone, their mother never paid that call - and to return Lydia to her family.

Their walk was pleasant and Elizabeth was delighted to see that, given some encouragement, her younger sister could be less irritable and less insipid. She had a good heart and a tolerably good head on those young shoulders, and if carefully steered from Lydia's influence, could become quite pleasant company indeed.

Lydia was another matter, and Elizabeth thought with some discomposure that a difficult task lay ahead of them, to ensure that their youngest sister understood what was required of them all, and of herself in particular, for the sake of their father.

They made it to Meryton in good time, expecting a brief visit with their aunt and a tolerable walk back, during which some discussion with Lydia was a necessary evil, but to their great surprise and Elizabeth's dismay, they found the Phillips household beset with morning callers, particularly young officers and their wives.

Introductions were performed, indeed so many that Elizabeth doubted she would remember them all.

One of the officers stood out from the crowd however, a young man of most gentleman-like appearance. Mr. Wickham was as far beyond all his fellow officers in person, countenance, air and walk, as they were superior to Elizabeth's broad-faced, stuffy uncle Phillips, for he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure and very pleasing address. Mr. Wickham was the fortunate man towards whom the attention of almost every lady in the room was turned, and Elizabeth the much envied woman whose company he chose.

The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness for conversation - a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on the brightness of the day and the unexpected mildness of the season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most thread-bare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

The conversation was steered towards the advantages of the weather in still allowing long walks, despite the lateness in the year; towards visiting neighbouring estates; and finally to Netherfield. Mr. Wickham enquired how far it was from Meryton and, after receiving her answer, remarked in a hesitating manner:

"Miss Lydia gave me to understand that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley is currently visiting there. Is your family acquainted with him?"

Elizabeth responded in the affirmative which, to her surprise, eventually led to Mr. Wickham relating a long tale of woe concerning the injustices he had suffered at the hands of the gentleman, from the rivalry for the affection of Mr. Darcy's late father, Mr. Wickham's godfather, to a legacy left him in old Mr. Darcy's will, which the son refused point blank to honour. Thorough disparagement of Mr. Darcy's and his sister's character was also weaved in, leaving Elizabeth to wonder what prompted the man to make such disclosures to her, without ceremony, and on so slight an acquaintance, despite having stated quite emphatically at some point in the conversation that respect for the memory of the father would always prevent him to defy or expose the son.

Some fragments of Mr. Wickham's story - for she was rather persuaded it was nothing but - brought to mind the arrogant Mr. Darcy from the Assembly Ball, but in none of the tales of dishonourable deeds could she recognise the gentleman who had shown such concern and compassion for her family.

The memory of Darcy's countenance as he had told her of the painful loss of his father returned to Elizabeth, and she recognised true depth of feeling. By comparison, it did not take her long to learn to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her about Wickham's manner, an affectation and sameness to disgust and weary.

She was pleased to find a plausible reason to excuse herself from his company. Elizabeth could not understand the man's reasons for blackening Darcy's character, but could not trust him, and was happy when the officers left to attend to their duties, which meant she and her sisters could make their way home - because any attempt to remove Lydia, while there still were amusements to be had, would only have led to extreme mortification.

They had but reached the far end of the village when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding up the lane. On distinguishing the ladies, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities, Bingley being of course the principal spokesman. They were, he said, on their way to Longbourn to inquire after Mr. Bennet's and, indeed, the family's comfort. For his part, Mr. Darcy merely corroborated it with a bow, while making a steadfast resolution not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth.

"Would you allow us to escort you back?" Bingley asked and, as permission was cheerfully granted, the gentlemen dismounted and followed, leading their steeds. They talked little, mainly between themselves, and Elizabeth had almost no occasion to say much, particularly as her thoughts were chiefly engaged by the conversation she had had with Mr. Wickham.

It remained to the younger girls to provide some distraction during their journey, which they gladly did, especially Lydia, who talked incessantly about her visit with her Aunt Phillips and about the officers. Elizabeth was half dreading that her sister would mention Mr. Wickham, and pondered whether she should inform Mr. Darcy of the damage to his character, willfully perpetrated in the neighbourhood, when suddenly her attention was drawn to Lydia's change of topic.

"This horrible business of the entail, Kitty," she cried, much to Elizabeth's surprise and mortification. "My aunt and I talked about it for days! And, could you believe, the dreadful man is in Meryton, my aunt says. She had not met him herself, but you know her Hannah's younger brother works at the Red Lion, and could tell of a Mr. Collins who had come to stay. My aunt says it is no coincidence-"

Elizabeth privately wished that her Aunt Phillips did not say half so much, and particularly not to Lydia, and that her younger sister would ever learn to hold her tongue! The three of them were walking a few steps ahead of the gentlemen, but Elizabeth could not flatter herself with the belief that Lydia's unguarded comments did not reach them.

"There's no coincidence, indeed," Kitty replied. "He had been to Longbourn, too!"

"Noooo!"

"Upon my word, he has! Ask Lizzy!"

"Lydia, Kitty, this is hardly the time or the place!" Elizabeth warned, and it came as no surprise that it fell on deaf ears.

"Oh, la, Lizzy, what does it signify?" Lydia huffed. "We have to talk of these things!"

"And we cannot talk in Papa's hearing", added Kitty, to make her own point.

"But we can talk at Longbourn, in the privacy of our own home!" Elizabeth emphasized, almost hissing, and finally Kitty took the hint and, with some resistance from Lydia, the subject was finally changed.

Elizabeth blushed and blushed again. The other day it was Mr. Collins. Now Lydia's impropriety, Kitty's silliness and her Aunt Phillips' vulgar gossip.

Were her relations forever bent on exposing themselves to ridicule before these two gentlemen?

A little while later, however, Elizabeth's mortified spirits took a turn for the better as, shortly before reaching Longbourn, Lydia suddenly thought of turning back and paying a call to Maria Lucas. Kitty readily agreed and Elizabeth sighed to see that it was sufficient for Lydia to reappear for Kitty to be only too easily swayed towards any of her schemes and away from her family. On this occasion, however, this was the lesser of the two evils and Elizabeth was gratified by the thought that at least Jane's conversation with Mr. Bingley was not to be plagued by the presence and unwelcome interference of their two younger sisters.

The visit indeed had started on a happy note. Upon their return to Longbourn, they had found Jane and Mary, companionably sitting together in the parlour, Mary with a book and Jane with an embroidery she had not had the chance to give her attention to in many days. They both put their employment aside as Elizabeth entered, bringing the visitors with her.

As soon as they had exchanged the prerequisite civilities, Mary went to inform Elizabeth that their father was currently resting, and to order some refreshment, then returned to her seat, though not her book. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she saw Mr. Bingley unreservedly claiming a place at Jane's side, and went to sit with Mary. After bowing without a word towards the former occupants of the room, Mr. Darcy had advanced to take his customary position by one of the windows, but after a few moments he abandoned it in favour of a seat close to herself and Mary.

"And how does your father today, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley earnestly enquired of Jane.

"Very well, sir, thank you," she replied with a smile, briefly meeting his eyes before lowering her own.

"That is good news indeed," Bingley said, seconded by Darcy who, to Elizabeth's surprise, afterwards turned towards her to ask if she often walked into Meryton. Elizabeth looked up in some amazement at his sudden inclination to make polite conversation, as she had been rather disposed to regard him of an unsociable, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak unless he expected to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.

Elizabeth smiled at her own mischievousness, in the full knowledge that perhaps the majority of her former opinions of the man ought to be discarded.

"Yes, I suppose it is a walk I take often enough," she remembered to reply.

"But not a great favourite of yours," he added quietly. It was not a question.

Elizabeth smiled in surprise, unknowingly warming his heart.

"No, I cannot say it is."

It was a great favourite with Kitty and Lydia, but that she kept to herself.

"How did you know?" she could not help asking and Darcy made only a vague gesture in lieu of any response. He could not very well tell her that he felt he knew her well enough to be assured she would not chose the facile amusement of gossip and shops over the quiet beauty of a country walk.

Another picture intruded. Ascending the Peaks, with Elizabeth by his side, her eyes filled with wonder at their untamed beauty, the winds of the hills playing in her hair and kissing her lovely face, before he would. Would she be happy to live the rest of her days in Derbyshire?

Darcy all but started at the suddenness of the thought and looked away, disconcerted. He shifted in his seat and cleared his voice to no purpose, as nothing further was said.

To his temporary relief, refreshments were soon brought in, but that only served to unsettle him completely, when his fingers accidentally brushed against the tips of hers, as Elizabeth handed him his coffee. Darcy straightened in his seat and forced himself to look away from the endearingly domestic picture she presented as she busied herself with pouring Bingley's tea. He fixed his eyes on a particularly unflattering rendition of some ancestor on the wall before him, in an attempt to stop himself from picturing Elizabeth pouring Bingley's tea as she entertained him as their guest at Pemberley, in the pale yellow sitting room that used to belong to his mother.

This was not to be borne!

He must find a way to control his unruly thoughts!

He must conquer this!

Assistance in that respect arrived from a most unexpected quarter. The door to the parlour opened and the gentlemen stood to bow to Mrs. Bennet as she entered the room.

Half an hour later, Elizabeth was thoroughly persuaded that had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could and produce the most mortifying spectacle, it would have been impossible to play their parts with more spirit, or finer success.

Mrs. Bennet had been the first to take the stage. She had, at some point, been made aware of Darcy's role in Mr. Bennet's recovery, and Elizabeth had to witness not only her mortifying attempts to match-make Bingley and Jane, but also her overwhelmingly officious attentions to his friend and her utterly ill-judged apologies for having so disliked him before, along with implications that someone so rich could never be in the wrong - for Mrs. Bennet, subdued beyond recognition in her husband's presence, was nevertheless very much herself in any other company.

Just as her mother's aria had reached its crescendo, Elizabeth was forced to reconsider the thought that the situation could not possibly get any worse, as the door opened once more and Mr. Collins was announced. Elizabeth exchanged a horrified look with Jane, then crossed her hands in her lap and looked away from both Bingley and Darcy, too overcome by embarrassment to even attempt to deflect unfortunate comments or to salvage anything from an utterly unsalvageable situation.

After Mr. Collins's monologue, directed mainly at Darcy, her younger sisters' entrance and Lydia's loud voice carrying over everybody else's as she informed her mother of some of the goings-on in Meryton merely put the finishing touches to the performance of the day. At least Lydia did not get to mention Mr. Wickham until after the gentlemen from Netherfield had left them, but such small mercies could hardly provide much comfort.

By the time Bingley and Darcy took their leave, Elizabeth was persuaded that the first wish of her heart was never more to be in company with either of them, as their society could afford no pleasure that would atone for such wretchedness as this!

Darcy rode away from Longbourn feeling all the irony of his situation. It was the second time in as many visits that he had been drawn thence by the irrepressible need to see Elizabeth, and all that he could take with him on his journey back was the restored conviction that she had to be forsworn.

That his heart's desire was of no consequence, and that he could not make her his wife.

Another sleepless night followed - another one of many. It was not just the perpetual war between his head and his heart that kept him from his sleep, but a deep anxiety for Elizabeth's future happiness.

Darcy had spoken to Dr. Helstone and, with a great deal of effort, pleading his genuine concern for the family, had overcome the man's scruples and found out what there was to know of Mr. Bennet's condition. That it was possible for him to lead a long and rich life, or that his condition could worsen irreversibly, with more or less warning.

The thought of Elizabeth destitute, at the mercy of that cousin of theirs, or married for security to someone who could not love or appreciate her tore at his heart.

The thought of her loving and being loved by any man other than himself was a torture of a different kind - but nevertheless he knew that beyond all his impossible wishes, the truth remained: if he would not have her, at least he would have her happy.

A solution came to his mind, at first hastily rejected as the ramblings of a overtaxed mind, but then returning in force, with arguments to support it.

If he could not give her his hand and his name, he could at least give her independence.

He could give her the freedom to choose and be chosen, and then relinquish her from his life, if not his heart.

It had to be done under some guise, of course. Much as he abhorred disguise of any sort, the need for it was undisputable, were he to proceed with his plan.

Her reputation had to be protected - it could not be made known that Miss Bennet and her family had been set up by him in a property he owned, for goodness' sake - and besides, the Bennets would never agree to receive anything from him, if offered openly.

Well, perhaps Mrs. Bennet and the younger sisters might, but that was hardly the point.

And then it came to him. The property in Devonshire he had inherited from his childless aunt, his father's youngest sister, who had in turn inherited it from her husband, Lord Edmund Farringdon. There was nothing and no one in that part of the country that could link the ownership to his name. The Hall and the bulk of the estate were leased, and the lease controlled by his London attorneys, the only ones aware of his involvement.

He could transfer the ownership of Farringdon Lodge to the Bennets, along with a sum which would ensure a certain independence.

His mind started working faster. It could be presented as a legacy, in the memory of the days of their youth, from a Cambridge schoolfellow of Mr. Bennet's, who wished to remain anonymous. It would be in Mr. Bennet's name, and devolve to his issue in the circumstance of his death.

It might work. By God, it might work.

It had to be accomplished in great secrecy and with the utmost of care, to pre-empt any mishaps. It had to be made quite certain that this part of the estate could not be misconstrued as being subject to the entail and, without signalling Elizabeth out, so as not to give rise to speculations, to ensure that her share was secure, and could not be frittered away by a thoughtless mother or senseless sisters.

If Mr. Bennet were to live to a ripe old age, then so much the better; but if not, at least she would be well taken care of.

A passing thought urged, at the back of his mind, that surely his own father would not have approved of him signing off so large a portion, to be forever lost from the estate which stood to be passed down, along with the Darcy name. He had, after all, a duty to uphold!

Duty can go hang! he thought fiercely, as he sat at his desk, pulled some paper and started to write down instructions to his attorneys.

It was because of duty that he had ended down this path.

If he could not give her his name, he would give her her freedom.

It would be his parting gift to her.

Darcy wrote relentlessly into the night, not even noticing the tears in his eyes.

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