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Chapter 31

The days that followed were infinitely more tranquil and a great deal more enjoyable. Parties were formed to explore the surrounding countryside, so that Elizabeth and Kitty could acquaint their friends with the place they had for so long called home. The weather was on their side, and on many a day a number of youthful, carefree people would leave Netherfield to walk, drive or ride to admire a new prospect or an old ruin, to stroll through the bustling market town, or indulge in a leisurely al fresco luncheon by the side of the river. Mrs Bingley would seldom join them, but her husband felt he should, at least on some of the occasions.

And then there were the visits to some of their neighbours, to whom the family at Netherfield deemed imperative that the invitations to the ball were presented in person. Elizabeth and Kitty and occasionally Mrs Bennet escorted Mr and Mrs Bingley when they made these calls, the opportunity to visit with family and former acquaintance pleasant in most instances, although in Elizabeth’s case the enjoyment was rather dearly bought as, largely by her choice, Darcy did not accompany them on those visits. After the recent reasons for embarrassment, she did not feel at all inclined to suffer the vexation of seeing Mrs Bennet parade him to Mrs Phillips, Mrs Long, or any of the other ladies of their former acquaintance.

There were other vexations they have mercifully been spared from. They have seen no more of Mr Collins, although Mary had come to call a number of times. Additionally, it had eventually transpired that Miss Bingley had sent a message to her sister and brother, whereby she regretfully declined their kind invitation to the ball. Elizabeth correctly surmised that Bingley must have warned his sister about the impending announcement of Mr Darcy’s betrothal, to spare her the mortification of learning of it when she arrived at Netherfield or from the gossip which would presumably follow the perusal of the society pages, once the engagement was formally announced in the papers. It was not certain whether Mr and Mrs Hurst would attend, they had yet to hear from them, but regardless of how supercilious the lady might choose to be, her displeasure lost most of its sting in her sister’s absence.

Elizabeth had other reasons to rejoice. A letter from Mrs Gardiner had arrived for her the previous day and it suggested that she might, in time, grow comfortable with Elizabeth’s choice. Her aunt was not wholly persuaded as to her reasons for marrying – and, by her intimation, her uncle was even less so. Her mother’s letter, which followed her own and expatiated upon the great advantages of the match was by no means of a nature to quell the Gardiners’ fears regarding Elizabeth having been swayed into it against her better judgement, but Jane’s communication, sent at about the same time as Mrs Bennet’s, to make her own announcement and reassure her uncle and aunt about Lizzy’s, had gone a long way in doing just that. And last but not least, Elizabeth was happy on Darcy’s behalf that Colonel Fitzwilliam had returned from town the previous evening. His arrival had unmistakably pleased his cousin – both his cousins, in point of fact – and Elizabeth assumed that it might have at least in part dispelled Darcy’s feeling of being rather lost, along with Georgiana, in a sea of Bennets.

The morning after the Colonel’s arrival, Elizabeth was quietly sipping her tea as she listened to the two gentlemen chatting companionably about everything and nothing. Nobody else had come down for breakfast yet, it was much too early, and Elizabeth could not help thinking that the cousins could use a few moments of privacy, as Colonel Fitzwilliam undoubtedly had communications to make, which Darcy would be more comfortable receiving in her absence.

With that notion, Elizabeth eventually informed them that she would leave them to their coffee to take a short solitary stroll through the walled gardens. The gentlemen looked up, both equally conscious of her meaning. Quite predictably, protest followed, Darcy’s more forthright as he pointedly said “There is no call for that, you know!”

She smiled. “I know. But I shall go for a walk nevertheless,” she replied with an impish smile which both gentlemen found quite becoming, although for slightly different reasons.

Elizabeth left the breakfast parlour with a spring in her step, on her way to the main entrance, only to be stopped briefly by a footman.

“If you would excuse me, Miss, this has just been brought for you!” he said, handing her a letter.

“For me?”

Elizabeth looked at the rather large piece of correspondence. It was addressed to her, but in an unfamiliar hand. She thanked the man and put it in her pocket, quite reluctant to stop and read it in the hallway. She descended the long flight of stairs that adorned the front of Netherfield, then rounded the house towards the right, to a quiet spot at the entrance to the walled gardens, where she found a bench to sit upon, and opened her missive.

The reverse of the envelope bearing her name was written in full and from within, a number of pages fell. Elizabeth gathered them and turned her attention to the first.

It was, strangely, addressed to Mr Collins and it thus began:

“Dear Mr Collins,

The communication received from you today was most unsettling, although similar intelligence had already been conveyed to me a few days previously, from different sources…”

Puzzled, Elizabeth looked for the signature. Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Understanding dawning, she turned to the envelope for confirmation. Scribbled on it was indeed Mr Collins’ message:

Dear Miss Elizabeth, it said

Following the events of Thursday last, when my wife and I had the honour of dining at Netherfield, I have been consumed with doubt regarding my duty as head of this family…

Elizabeth’s chest swelled with indignation. The insufferable presumption! The fact that he had inherited her father’s estate did not make him head of his family! She took a deep breath to calm herself, knowing full well that the missive will give her many more causes for vexation.

She read on, only to discover she was right.

It was not long until my duty was revealed to me.

Although The Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh cannot quite be regarded as my patroness in the present circumstances, and cannot therefore command me in this capacity, she will forever command my esteem and gratitude for the unstinting and constant attentions she had bestowed upon me while I had the honour to serve her, therefore I cannot in good conscience stand aside while her ladyship and her amiable daughter are injured – and by a member of my family, no less!

I therefore beg leave to inform you that I have written to Rosings with the intelligence acquired Thursday last, and the response I had the honour of receiving had confirmed my worst fears. It showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that the distress caused by this hasty engagement is indeed far greater than I have anticipated!

Believe, Miss Elizabeth, that I fully understand your eagerness to enter into this engagement. Your noble suitor is, after all, blessed in a peculiar way with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire. However, I would urge you to consider that the gentleman’s family will never be reconciled with what her ladyship termed so disgraceful a match.

I hope you will overlook the impropriety of my forwarding my own correspondence in this fashion – indeed, in view of the gravity of the situation, I am persuaded that her ladyship herself would have allowed it, so that you can be left in no doubt as to the strength of the opposition this alliance will encounter and no longer labour under the misapprehension that the obstacles would eventually be overcome.

Pray, Miss Elizabeth, read her ladyship’s letter and see for yourself that this match you aspire to can never take place. As head of this family, I most strongly urge you to break this engagement and remove yourself from Mr Darcy’s path towards his duty.

I remain, Etc Etc

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand and laughed, in spite of her vexation.

Oh, Papa! How diverted you would have been at this!

Apparently, Mr Collins’ understanding was even more deficient than she would have thought.

In view of everything she knew of the man, Elizabeth could not believe for a moment that he was animated by gratitude to his former patroness, or any other noble sentiments of the kind. She did not doubt that, as her ladyship was the most exalted person of Mr Collins’ acquaintance, he cherished hopes that he might still use their former connection to his advantage, should he be able to keep himself in Lady Catherine’s good graces.

It was therefore astounding that he should be so lacking in sense as to fail to grasp that his interests would be far better served by having Darcy as a brother, than by courting her ladyship’s hypothetical favour. Not to mention his quite incredible assumption that any woman blessed with Mr Darcy’s preference could be worked upon with language such as this!

Elizabeth shook her head and put Mr Collins’ missive behind the pages she still held in her hand, with the same ease with which she put his instructions at the back of her mind.

Mr Darcy’s aunt was a slightly different matter and, although she knew that Lady Catherine de Bourgh held no more power over her than Mr Collins’ strictures, Elizabeth found she could not dismiss her as easily as she could her father’s foolish cousin.

With some discomfort, Elizabeth cast a glance at the sheets of elegant hot-pressed paper, covered in a bold, old-fashioned hand. Her curiosity notwithstanding, she strongly doubted the wisdom of making herself party to Mr Collins’ impropriety by reading the correspondence addressed to another, particularly without expectation of any joy to be derived from it.

Despite herself, however, some lines caught her eye:

“… and I have great hopes that my nephew will be brought to see reason. The Earl of Matlock had taken upon himself to work on him and make him remember what he owes to himself and to all his family. I trust that despite that person’s arts and allurements, my nephew would have retained enough sense to remember his duty to his late mother’s memory, and recollect that his union to my daughter had been her dearest wish.

You have discharged your duties satisfactorily at Hunsford, Mr Collins, and upon the whole I am pleased with your efforts, but that does not make it any more acceptable that the son of Lady Anne Darcy of Pemberley should unite himself in marriage with someone who cannot boast more exalted connections than a merchant’s descendant and my own parson!

Precisely as you have uniformly conducted yourself in a manner befitting a young man who knows his place, I trust you will assist your relation in getting to know hers. I rely on you, Mr Collins, to impress upon the young person that honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest forbid her to accept my nephew’s suit. Yes, interest! For she cannot expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if she wilfully acts against the inclinations of all. She will be censured, slighted and despised, by every one connected with him. This alliance would be a disgrace. Her name will never be mentioned by any of us...

Abruptly, Elizabeth stood. She will read no more! She had expected unpleasantness, in view of Darcy’s comments a few days previously, as well as Mr Collins’ ominous warnings, but nothing had prepared her for the violence of the language and of the sentiment behind it.

She realigned the pages so that she can fold them and, to her surprise, she noticed that her hands were shaking. Elizabeth gave a startled, uncomfortable laugh. She was not going to be Missish about it… was she? She had been warned – more or less, she had been warned.

This, undoubtedly, was only the beginning.

With now steady hands, she folded the sheets and returned them to her pocket, then walked back to the bench and sat.

It will not be pleasant. She will be despised as a fortune hunter of inferior birth and no connections, by some of them at least. Thankfully, not by those very close to Darcy, such as Georgiana and the Colonel, so hopefully he will be less pained by it. As for herself…

She smoothed her dress, with a little sigh. She could not pretend to be wholly unaffected by the virulence of the opposition, and the thought of future family gatherings where she would be met with cold disdain at best was not something to dwell upon. Yet she could weather their displeasure, were it not for her concern about how it would affect him.

Her head came up with a small huff of annoyance. Will they ever be allowed some peace, or will they be forever caught between the improprieties displayed by her connections and the cold arrogance of his? She stood again, in too much agitation of spirits to be able to remain in one place for very long and wrapped her arms around herself, against the chill of the morning and the chill of her thoughts.

They will, somehow, have to learn to live with this. Laugh at it, Darcy had said, but a few days previously. She could not laugh at it, not quite, not yet - and presumably he will not find the humorous side of the matter either. A small sigh escaped her at the thought that she will have to share the morning’s occurrence with Darcy, before too long. She had no wish to pain him, and no desire at all to ruin the disposition of what might have been a pleasant stroll in the gardens, but he was bound to learn of it sooner or later, and her having withheld this intelligence from him would only create unease between them…

The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her raise her eyes, only to see him there, as though conjured up by her thoughts. Despite her discomfort, her countenance lit up into a smile.

Upon the whole, the wife of Mr Darcy could have no cause to repine…

Elizabeth advanced towards him, hand outstretched, only to find herself in his embrace instead, warm, safe and cherished – and closed her eyes against the world that made her feel less so.

She gave a small contented sigh as his lips brushed against her brow, then stopped on hers in the first kiss for many days. All too soon, they reluctantly drew apart, remembering there were windows overlooking the walled garden as well.

“December!” Darcy muttered with a smile, and Elizabeth could not help laughing in response.

They have at last settled upon a quiet ceremony in December, to be held indeed in Longbourn Church. There was a great deal to be done in preparation and Mrs Bennet was in a fever of excitement, drawing plans, making lists and impatiently awaiting for the arrival of Mr and Mrs Gardiner, so that they could confer about the family’s return to town after the ball, for purchases and fittings and every other thing that sent the good lady’s heart aflutter and filled her with eager anticipation of hours of delight.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” Darcy asked as he offered her his arm.

It was an innocent question, but it almost made her start. No, she did not enjoy her walk and she had no wish to talk about it. And yet she would not lie.

“I did not go for a walk, after all,” she owned instead.

“Did you not?”

She bit her lip and looked away, heartily tired of conversations that made her feel uncomfortable.

“Elizabeth! You look distressed. My dear, whatever is the matter?”

“I am not distressed! You must not think that! I am merely… troubled…”

“What is troubling you, then? Please, Elizabeth, you must tell me!” he urged as he took her hand, and the concern and unmistakable love in his eyes persuaded her that her only course of action was honesty toward the man she loved. He was her life, her present and her future, and much as she wished to protect him, she would only injure him more if she were to conceal the truth from him. Forcing her discomfort aside, she began, hoping at least to make it as painless as possible.

“I am concerned – not for my sake,” she hastened to add, “but for yours, to think of the distress your family's opposition to our union will cause you…”

“Pray, what brought this about?” he asked, with some anxiety.

Elizabeth drew another long breath and plunged in:

“I have just received a letter from Mr Collins, who had in turn been communicating with your aunt. Her ladyship’s response was forwarded to me and, as you had predicted, it does indicate that she is not best pleased with the news of our engagement…”

His anger was suddenly more chilling than the morning air, and she could not help feeling extremely uncomfortable, even though she knew that it was not directed at her.

Relinquishing her hand, he turned away and Elizabeth saw him passing a gloved hand over his face, in a vain attempt to recover his spirits. Her heart sank to see him turning abruptly from her, fists clenched at his sides. As though sensing that her distress was augmented by his actions, however, he recollected himself, returned, and took her hands again. His voice was the epitome of composure when he spoke, but she knew better than be deceived by the apparent calm in his countenance.

“Will you allow me to see those letters, Elizabeth?” he said, with great gentleness, but it sounded more like a request than a question. “Pray rest assured”, he added, “that I would never dream of invading the privacy of your correspondence, were it not a highly irregular circumstance!”

“I am … It will pain you. For myself, I would be inclined to let it rest…”

He drew a long breath and clasped her hands in his with renewed urgency.

“I cannot express how touched I am by your desire to shield me from this. But can you not see that I wish to do the same? Will you not agree that my aunt is my responsibility and, much as I appreciate your concern, I do not wish to let you take this upon yourself?”

She was silent for a while, until he gently lifted her chin and, looking her straight in the eye, said: “We are soon to become one, for better, for worse, Elizabeth”, he urged, “and nothing should be allowed to come between us… not even secrets kept with the best intentions.”

Strangely, this had come so close to her private musings of a short while ago that she could no longer resist his request. She reached into her pocket and handed him the folded letter.

They had, by this time, reached a spot where another bench stood, and Elizabeth allowed herself to sink onto the cold stone, while watching him pace backwards and forwards as he read Mr Collins’, then Lady Catherine's missive. She could see him clenching his fist, and the grim set of his jaw was by no means encouraging. He made a move to crumple the papers in his hand when he had finished, but he remembered that they were not his, so he smoothed and folded them and went to sit by Elizabeth's side.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, returning the pages, then covered her hands with his. “Elizabeth, please look at me”, he urged. “You are not to be distressed by this! I beg you, this should not give you a moment’s concern!”

She looked up, pained to see that although he had entreated her to disregard the letter, he quite obviously could not.

“I am sorry,” she offered.

“Sorry?!” he exclaimed. “Elizabeth, it is not for you to apologise. It is I who should beg your forgiveness for not having prevented… for having you subject to this…. this…” Words failed him, and he drew another long breath in a vain attempt to calm himself. His anger was choking him and the look of pain in her lovely face was more than he could bear. “But it will not happen again”, he added, sternly. “At least that I can promise you!”

“It was not an apology, though – not this time, at least,” she added with a wistful smile, thinking of the many times she had to apologise for her own relations in recent days, and her heart went out to him, knowing too well the discomfort he must be experiencing. “I am just very sorry to see you so distressed, and to know that as our families come together, you will have nothing but further reason for mortification, when…”

“I know what you are about to say, Elizabeth, and I beg you, do not entertain such thoughts”, he interrupted, all too conscious that they were but a few words from reminiscing over their painful discussion about Farringdon, and that he could not bear. The mere thought that she could see justice in sentiments he had long since come to disown was not one that he could welcome. She had been offended by the intimation that he had once been prepared to forsake her, in view of her own family and his, and rightly so. He would not have Lady Catherine now making her doubt herself, or him, or the happiness she had brought to his life!

“We shall weather this, Elizabeth!” he said earnestly. “As long as we remember that it can only injure us if we allow it to!”

She looked up with a smile.

“That is very wise,” she said softly, suddenly feeling much better. “I rather wish I said it first,” she quipped a moment later and he laughed as he brought her fingers to his lips.

Under her very eyes, however, his countenance changed into a grim mask of displeasure, quite impossible to account for until she turned to follow the line of his gaze and saw Mr Collins advancing towards them in great haste, with an odd step that miraculously appeared to comprise a sideways tilt and a half bow.

“Sister!” he called, quite obviously out of breath. “And Mr Darcy! Good morning to you, Sir!”

Elizabeth arched a brow at the appellation, quite sure that – by force of habit – Mr Collins addressed her almost always with ‘Miss Elizabeth’ or ‘Cousin’. She could not help but wonder whether the recent claim to closer kinship could only mean that he had finally come to see where his interest lay. She straightened her back and folded her hands in her lap, the look in her eyes and the upturned corner of her mouth belying the demure picture. Under any other circumstance, she would have been mortified by his arrival, but now, all things considered, the moment held high promise of becoming exceedingly diverting.

Mr Collins had eventually approached and remained before them, casting uncertain, swift looks from one to the other. He bowed, then bowed again.

Belatedly, Darcy stood, at least a head taller than the other man.

“Mr Collins,” he enunciated, with barely a nod. “We were not expecting you.”

The former pastor shuffled.

“Yes… hm! I must apologise for the abruptness… er, that is… I was exceedingly reluctant to intrude… at such an early hour… were it not for a matter of hm! extreme delicacy…”

He bowed again, while Darcy merely stood there, one hand behind his back, his mien frozen. Elizabeth looked down and bit her lip to suppress a smile.

“Pray, continue!” Darcy invited, his voice flat, and Collins writhed.

“It was my cou… sister Elizabeth that I most urgently needed to speak to… if it is convenient,” he eventually ventured, “… as regards… a family matter…”

No comment was forthcoming from either of his listeners and, under Darcy’s steady gaze, Mr Collins became even more flustered. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to dab at his face and forehead.

“A family matter,” Darcy repeated, icily. “Which family would that be?”

Not even Mr Collins could miss the implication - and apparently he did not, because he winced.

Darcy turned to Elizabeth silently asking for permission, which was instantly given with a nod and he continued, his diction precise.

“If it is your letter you have come to enquire about, Mr Collins, yes, it was delivered this morning – and was not appreciated. Nor was your unwarranted interference!”

“It was a regrettable error…” Mr Collins quailed. “Indeed, most unfortunate… As my wife reminded me this morning, our sister’s welfare is our primary concern…”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Apparently, she had given Mr Collins more credit than was his due.

It was Mary’s admonishment that made him decamp from his previous position. She shook her head with rueful amusement at his ineptitude and not insubstantial sadness at the thought of her sister, forever bound to such a man. She had chosen with her eyes open, but that did not make her position any less pitiable. It was indeed humbling to think that, of all the Bennet sisters who had entered the married state, it was Mary, whom everyone ignored, who had sacrificed her chances of happiness out of duty to them all. Her life might have been so very different, had Bingley proposed to Jane a little earlier – then Mary might not have felt it incumbent upon her to secure their fortunes. Elizabeth almost shuddered, knowing full well that she could not have made the sacrifice.

Quite naturally, her gaze drifted to the man before her, the one because of whom her life promised to be so much more than she had ever deemed possible, and her countenance softened in a look of love which took him completely by surprise, given the present circumstances.

The stern discourse mellowed, as Darcy continued:

“Mrs Collins’ sentiments do her credit…”

“They do indeed, Sir!” Mr Collins interjected with an ingratiating smile. “My wife is most tender-hearted and inordinately fond of Miss Elizabeth. I do not doubt that the sentiment is reciprocated for, as my wife assures me, Miss Elizabeth is the kindest and the most devoted soul. You have chosen well, Mr Darcy! And I flatter myself that, in view of the warm affection subsisting between the sisters, our connection will…”

“Miss Bennet, would you kindly excuse us for a moment?” Darcy suddenly asked, with a rigid bow in Elizabeth’s direction, the man’s stupidity and impudence having by now pushed him well beyond the limits of his patience. “Mr Collins!” he added, in a near-growl, “a private word with you, if you please!”

The simpering smile fading as he ascertained that his efforts towards making his peace with the powerful family at Pemberley were not that well received, the former pastor followed the angry strides with small, hurried steps, until they were out of earshot, if not quite out of sight, when Darcy abruptly turned.

“Mr Collins! In view of the warm affection subsisting between the sisters, as well as your position as a man of the cloth, you should consider yourself fortunate that I cannot call you out for the distress your underhand actions have caused my future wife,” he said quietly, with deadly calm, and the other man paled. “You will do well to note, Sir, that I am not my aunt, and the same methods for currying favour will have very dissimilar results. All I require from our connection is that you cease to mortify your wife and, by extension, mine. Let yourself be guided by Mrs Collins’ tact and delicacy of manner and I daresay our connection might progress on a much better footing than it had begun!”

From where she sat, Elizabeth could not hear what was spoken, but could see Mr Collins nodding abjectly and bowing progressively lower as Darcy’s verbal lashing continued. By the time he was quite finished and had clearly indicated to Mr Collins that it was time he returned whence he had come, the other man’s bows had become almost horizontal.

It was rather fortunate that Darcy had finished when he did, Elizabeth thought mischievously as Mr Collins hastily reiterated his apologies and bade his adieus, otherwise he might have started to resemble a broken and very floppy Jack-in-the-box

Chapter 32

With one last deep and very formal bow, and a pained grimace masquerading as a smile, Mr Collins finally vanished from view beyond the ornate gates, and Elizabeth shook her head with unrestrained amusement, only to look up as Darcy took her hand and carried it to his lips.

“Are you well, my love?” he enquired with some concern and she laughed softly in response.

“Very much so, I thank you. Forgive me, I should not laugh, it is quite wicked of me! Yet I must own, in Mr Collin’s case it requires very little effort to be diverted by what we cannot change!”

To her regret, it soon became apparent that her innocuous remark had brought to mind less than diverting circumstances, for with a sombre mien, he began:

“Elizabeth, as regards today, I …”

She would not let him finish. Her hand came up to join the other in a firm clasp around his fingers, then rose to lightly brush against his cheek.

“There is another point we ought to add to our agreement…” she said with great tenderness, but no less determination.

“What would that be?”

“Apologise to each other for no-one but ourselves.”

His countenance warmed and she laughingly continued:

“I do believe we must, can you not see? Otherwise there shall be no variety in our conversations, and that will never do!”

A glance of shared amusement passed between them, and Elizabeth softly urged:

“Come. Let us have our morning walk, and talk of nothing that can give us pain.”

In silent agreement, Darcy offered her his arm, and affectionately covered her small hand with his as they effortlessly fell into pace.

“What would you have us speak of?” he asked with a smile, and her eyes found his, bewitching him as always with their mischievous sparkle.

“We could of course indulge in retrospections, a well-favoured pastime with lovers, I am told, and dwell upon each look, word, or circumstance that have worked to strengthen our attachment - but I believe we should reserve this most attractive topic for quiet winter evenings, when we would sit before the fire and I might be inclined to ask what had prompted you to ever fall in love with me in the first place.”

“I fear I shall disappoint you in this respect, my dearest. I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Elizabeth smiled to herself. Had she not determined, some weeks previously, that she must have attracted Darcy’s notice for nothing other than her thinly-veiled impertinence? He would disagree, without a doubt, but it would be diverting to share the thought with him sometime, nevertheless!

The sun had risen high enough to cast warm pools of light into the well-kept garden, the earlier chill banished and forgotten. Beyond the walls, tall elms and chestnuts stood, yellowed leaves burning brightly against the clear sky.

“Tell me of Pemberley,” Elizabeth suddenly asked and Darcy turned towards her, clearly pleased by her request, and equally surprised.

“What would you wish to know?”

How did it shape you into the wonderful man that you are, she thought with a smile, but said instead: “Anything you would care to tell.”

They walked on, the comfortable silence broken only by birdsong and the sound of footsteps on the gravel, until Darcy quietly began:

“Your chambers overlook the eastern gardens, but from some of the windows you can see the stream, the lake and the woods beyond. A fine magnolia tree spreads out beneath your windows, and there are pink and red azaleas along the path that leads to the orangerie…”

She could easily ascertain by the sound of his voice that he was content, yet she could not have guessed his profound happiness at finally being able to openly refer to those chambers as hers.

He had regarded them as such for many months – indeed he had found it impossible to do otherwise – and the oppressive silence in the well-cared-for but thoroughly lifeless suite had for just as long served to enhance his loneliness and pain.

It was no longer destined to be so, and a letter had been some weeks ago dispatched to Mrs Reynolds, with clear instructions to prepare the house for its new mistress and ready the empty suite for immediate occupation. No directions have been sent for its refurbishment – it was Elizabeth’s place to decide upon such matters – but the mere thought that the long-uninhabited chambers were put in order for her and waiting to be brought to life by her sparkling presence was in itself an ample source of joy.

As rich, warm tones vividly conjured up the picture of the home they were to share, Elizabeth leaned on her lover’s arm, and time flew by, and neither stopped to notice. He told her then of other things – places and people, and distant memories from a cherished past, as well as thoughts for the brightest future – until with no small measure of disappointment they came to notice that it was nearly time for luncheon, and they had to return to the house.

The Gardiners were expected that very day, by noon – but luncheon came and went, with no sign of her aunt and uncle, and the mixed feelings with which Elizabeth awaited their arrival eventually turned into nervous anticipation, for it was many hours until their carriage had finally drawn to a halt before the house.

As soon as the family was notified of their arrival, Mrs Bennet made great haste to leave her employment and follow Bingley and Jane out of the door. Before the hosts have had the chance to greet the Gardiners, Mrs Bennet flung herself at her brother and his wife.

“You are here at last! Thank goodness, oh, thank goodness! I was in such a fright that you have come to some mishap!”

“Calm yourself, sister!” Mr Gardiner urged, with a mildly amused smile at Mrs Bennet’s fussing. “I apologise for the delay, Mr Bingley, and I hope it did not inconvenience you unduly,” he added, knowing full well that his sister, worked up into a frenzy, could inconvenience a saint. “We have set off rather later than expected, I’m afraid, due to some last minute detail that required my attention.”

“It is of no consequence, Sir,” Bingley replied, affably. “We are all delighted you are here…”

“Oh, you and that business of yours!” Mrs Bennet interjected, waving her hands in the air. “The number of times it has interfered with everybody’s plans, I cannot even begin to mention!”

Mrs Gardiner’s brows arched at the thought that ‘that business of his’, as well as her husband’s dedication, was keeping his family in more than adequate comfort and, had circumstances been different, would have presumably provided for Mr Bennet’s family as well. Wisely, she refrained to comment, well accustomed after so many years with her sister by marriage and her unalterable ways. It was Elizabeth who whispered a rather shocked ‘Mamma!’ before coming to embrace her uncle and aunt. With Kitty at her side, she had followed the Bingleys and her mother at a more sedate pace, in equal measures dreading and anticipating the moment when she could have the Gardiners to herself, so that the necessary explanations could take place. Her aunt and uncle embraced her with great warmth and, to her utmost surprise, her uncle bent to kiss her brow, something he had not done since she had outgrown the school-room! With a small sigh, Elizabeth fought off the threat of tears, hoping it would be in her power to put his mind at ease. He clearly was not happy, and that it should have been through her means, that she, his favourite niece, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears as regards her future, was a wretched reflection. Her uncle and aunt then moved to embrace Kitty and Jane and enquire about the latter’s comfort and after a while they all returned to the house and joined the others in the drawing room. A rather large party was currently gathered there as, in addition to the family and friends already present, some of Bingley’s acquaintance from town had arrived over the last few days, in preparation for the ball. Tired from the journey and obviously daunted by the large company, the four Gardiner children gathered around their Mamma, the youngest clutching her doll with a despondent look upon her face.

“Jane, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner whispered, “I hope your guests will excuse me, but I believe I ought to take the little ones up stairs.”

“But of course, Aunt! I shall go with you directly!” Elizabeth heard her older sister reply, and was about to offer to take Jane’s place, both to allow her to pursue her duties towards the rest of the party and because she was quick to recognise that it would give her a perfect opportunity to speak privately with her aunt. Before she could say anything, however, it became apparent that her uncle did not intend to follow suit, not straightaway in any case, so she looked down in some discomfort, torn between the duty to her aunt and the unwillingness to leave Darcy’s side, particularly in the present circumstance. To her surprise and gratitude, however, she felt Kitty’s hand briefly press her own as she moved past her towards their aunt and sister.

“I will be very happy to show you to your rooms and help settle my little cousins, if you wish it,” she offered, and Mrs Gardiner kissed her cheek.

“Such a sweet, steady girl! Thank you, my dear, that would be very good – if it meets with your approval, Jane, that is…?”

Jane declared her perfect satisfaction with the arrangements and, after speaking briefly with her husband, who quietly communicated his intention to follow shortly, Mrs Gardiner left the room with Kitty, and with some uncharacteristically subdued children in tow.

Swallowing a rather uncomfortable lump in her throat, Elizabeth advanced to her uncle. He was still at Mr Bingley’s side, and she could hear her brother saying quietly:

“I hope you had a pleasant journey, Sir!”

The older man did not reply directly, but involuntarily raised his brows at the remark, with an air that clearly indicated the unlikelihood of it.

“If I may be so bold, Sir…” Bingley added in some haste. “As regards our conversations when you were last at Netherfield, I hope I can soon persuade you that you no longer need to be concerned…”

“Thank you, Mr Bingley, I would appreciate that,” Mr Gardiner evenly replied, but his tone of voice unwittingly suggested he would require rather more reassurance than that forthcoming from Mr Darcy’s closest friend. With a small sigh, Elizabeth closed the distance between them and placed her hand on her uncle’s arm.

“It is very good to see you here at last, Sir,” she said softly, feeling once more the sting of tears at the look of deep affection which he bestowed upon her, as he covered her hand with his. “I hope that taking another week from your duties did not inconvenience you unduly…”

“Do not concern yourself, my dear, I would have…” Mr Gardiner gently began, only to stop abruptly at his sister’s sudden exclamation.

“Of course he would have come regardless, Lizzy, he would not miss your eng-… that is, he would not have wished to miss the ball, particularly under the circumstances! Speaking of which, dear brother, have you met Mr Darcy?”

“No, I have not had that honour,” Mr Gardiner curtly replied and Elizabeth’s spirits sank at his barely concealed displeasure.

“Well, then, Edward, come, let me introduce you…” Mrs Bennet urged hastily, making her daughter look up to Mr Bingley with something akin to desperation.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mr Gardiner interjected quietly, before the younger man could gather his wits about him and decide how to intervene without causing offence. “I dare say, however, that Mr Bingley would prefer to introduce me to his guests himself.”

“La! You are so strange! There is little occasion for standing on ceremony in this fashion, when we are as good as family, you know!” Mrs Bennet shrugged. “Oh, have it your way, then! I needed to go and speak to Jane about her dinner arrangements, in any case. She is not used to entertaining on such a scale, the dear girl, and although she declares herself more than satisfied with the much-praised Nichols, I dare say Hill could still teach her a thing or two!”

And with that she mercifully rushed from their side, absent-mindedly rearranging her cap and searching in her pocket, goodness knew what for. With a sigh of compassion for her elder sister, Elizabeth could not help rejoicing in their mother’s inability to stand rooted to the same spot for longer than five minutes and dearly hoped that, after Jane, Mrs Bennet would find another recipient for her advice and attention rather than return to her brother’s side, as the forthcoming introduction was threatening to be sufficiently charged without her mother’s contribution.

“Would you allow me now to introduce some of my guests to your acquaintance, Sir?” she heard Bingley ask and raised her eyes in time to see her uncle’s gaze darting involuntarily towards Darcy. His countenance once more turned dark and stern, and Elizabeth was left to wonder how was it that he already knew who Mr Darcy was, until she recollected that he must have recognised him from the paintings displayed at Pemberley.

However, Mr Bingley chose to introduce her uncle to Colonel Brandon first, and to other gentlemen standing nearby, a Captain Tilney and his younger brother, presumably in order to diffuse the tension. That the endeavour did not quite have the desired effect was obvious a moment later, when Mr Darcy approached their group and, with a bow, very civilly requested of his friend the honour of an introduction. It was with alacrity performed and very politely received on either side – not that Elizabeth had ever imagined anything different. In truth, she was not in the least surprised that Darcy had chosen to take the matter in his own hands and come forward to face the storm rather than skulk about the room in expectation, but even she was rather taken aback by the forthrightness with which, by the end of a civil, but very stilted exchange, he had turned to her uncle to ask for the favour of a private word, at Mr Gardiner’s convenience. It was quite obvious to Elizabeth that her uncle was sorely tempted to make prompt use of the offered opportunity, but with some restraint he eventually declared himself at Mr Darcy’s leisure, at any time after dinner.

Bingley looked at Elizabeth for her opinion and advice, unwilling to be the one to drag the older gentleman away from any encounter conducive to a better understanding, but before she could think of something to say that was not under an embargo, Mr Darcy excused himself and returned to his sister’s side, with a brief smile of encouragement for Elizabeth.

His decision made for him, Mr Bingley moved on to introduce Mr Gardiner to some of his other guests while Elizabeth stayed behind, and eventually made her way to Darcy and Georgiana.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, as soon as she had the chance, but he shook his head.

“There is nothing to thank me for. I know how much their good opinion means to you, in every respect. I merely hope to persuade your uncle to bestow it.”

“I do not doubt you will. I merely wish I could be present to the interview, although…”

“Although?”

“I should imagine you both need to make your peace without me.”

“I would not necessarily say that...”

“What, then?”

“Merely that your uncle deserves the satisfaction of remonstrating with me for my earlier presumption, without the inconvenience of having to choose his words!”

She almost laughed at this, as she could not quite envisage Mr Gardiner other than in full command of himself and his temper, despite all provocation.

“I dare say he appreciated your forthrightness,” she offered in an attempt at teazing reassurance, and Darcy smiled.

“Thank you. I was rather hoping that he would…”

“Forgive us, Georgiana, it was dreadfully uncivil, carrying on in this fashion,” Elizabeth turned to her future sister, who looked up with an affectionate glance that encompassed both her friend and her brother.

“Oh, no, not at all, I assure you,” she replied softly. “Do not make yourself uneasy. I merely wish you could put every discomfort behind you, and have your unalloyed happiness at last. I do not know two people who deserve it more!” she added warmly and Elizabeth pressed her hand in hers in gratitude, moved by her sweetness and her wisdom.

Before too long, it was time to dress for dinner, and Elizabeth and Georgiana excused themselves and made their way up stairs. After a short hesitation, however, instead of going to her own bedchamber, Elizabeth went to knock softly at the door of her aunt’s. Mr Gardiner’s voice bade her enter and Elizabeth did so, feeling rather conscious and not altogether sure how best to go about the task at hand. The moment of awkwardness, however, was soon broken by Mrs Gardiner, who urged her niece to come and sit by her, then took her hand.

“Dear Lizzy!” she said kindly. “I was hoping you would come to see me before dinner! Come, let me have a look at you, my dearest child!”

She placed her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders, then with a gentle and very affectionate smile, she bent to kiss her cheek.

“You look well, my dear.”

“I am well, dear Aunt, and very, very happy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, returning the embrace.

“I must confess,” Mrs Gardiner replied with a smile, “that I have already taken the liberty of asking Kitty whether she thought you were. Unpardonable of me, I know, dearest Lizzy, to poke about your business in this fashion, but I will not scruple to say that your uncle and I were very much concerned…”

“I know and I am sorry. My uncle… I have noticed that he is not… best pleased…”

“Dearest, you can hardly blame him…”

“No, no of course not! In view of everything he knew on the matter, I can see why he should still have his doubts, yet… Oh, I know not what I am saying! I merely wish I could relieve his anxiety on my behalf. And yours.”

“Your uncle, dear child, feels… Well, I should say, he feels responsible for you. And so do I, though in a different fashion. You have always been very dear to us, I hope you know that, and… Forgive me, but it must be said! Particularly now that your father is no longer with us, what we most need to ascertain, my dear child, is that you truly know what you are about, and you have not been… persuaded to enter into this engagement against your better judgement.”

“Oh, you can rest assured that this is not the case! Dearest Aunt, I am… we both are… very much attached!”

Disclosing her innermost sentiments was something Elizabeth could never feel at ease with, even in her dealings with her dearest aunt - yet, encouraged by Mrs Gardiner’s gentleness and obvious affection, she eventually succeeded to put aside her discomfort and the encumbrances of her very private nature and finally relate everything.

Diligently, though not very fluently, she gave her aunt to understand that marrying Mr Darcy was without exception the dearest wish of her heart, and endeavoured to persuade her that her own reasons for entering into this engagement were as far removed as possible from mistaken notions of gratitude, or anything of the kind. By enumerating with energy all his good qualities, by declaring her absolute faith in the strength of his affection and giving sufficient proof of its depth, as well as of the fact that their mutual attachment was not the work of a day, she eventually conquered her aunt’s reservations and reconciled her with the match.

“Well, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner said when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have borne to see you, my Lizzy, pledging your future to any one less worthy!”

Elizabeth embraced her aunt again and thanked her for her goodness, then Mrs Gardiner asked:

“Would you like me to give your uncle an account of our discussion, or would you rather speak with him yourself?”

“I would be grateful if you were to reassure him, my dear Aunt, as soon as possible, for my uncle’s sake as well as Mr Darcy’s. After all, it would be a great deal better for everyone concerned if my uncle were a little more disposed in Mr Darcy’s favour, when they meet after dinner,” she quipped, her habitual good-humour returning, now that her heart had been relieved from a considerable weight.

The Gardiners had always held a special place in her heart - just as she did in theirs. Not merely because they were pleasant, well-educated people, who had taught her a great deal, and had not once given her cause to blush. To Elizabeth, they had provided the perfect example of a happy union, the sort she would wish for herself, where each partner held the other in high affection and esteem, where days were shared, not lived within parallel, incompatible worlds. In effect, it was the example of her uncle and aunt’s marriage that had prevented her from being completely disillusioned, from a very young age, with the institution itself.

Indeed, had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort. She had always loved her parents, of course, but she was not blind to their faults in their dealings with each other, as well as with their children. Grateful as she might have been for their affection or concern, especially her father’s, she could not look up to either in the fashion one needs to be able to look up to a parent. This privilege had been earned by and silently conferred to her uncle and aunt who had provided, over the years, more support and guidance than her own parents could.

The thought pained her occasionally, particularly after her father’s passing, as it was felt as somewhat disrespectful to his memory, but she could not change the truth. Her father had loved her merely as an extension of himself, and fortunately they had been sufficiently alike for her to be able to elicit his affection and interest, otherwise she would presumably have been as ignored as Mary, as laughed at as Lydia and Kitty – or as misunderstood as Jane.

Unlike her father, her uncle and aunt had not judged, they had guided - with affection, with perseverance and with their sterling example - and Elizabeth did not doubt that she would have been a very, very different person, were it not for them.

“Well, then!” Mrs Gardiner smiled affectionately. “Now that you have put my concerns to rest, I must admit to some eagerness to getting to know your young man better.”

Elizabeth returned the smile and held her hand. It was a great relief that her aunt, whom she had always loved and respected, appeared now reconciled with her choice. Her blessing, almost unreservedly bestowed, went a long way to made her joy complete, and all that she had left to wish for was her uncle’s understanding and concurrence.

She did not tarry long after that, as they both needed to dress for dinner and, after a few more minutes of merrily chatting about their plans and her happiness, Elizabeth finally made her way to her own bedchamber, in much better spirits than she was when she had left the drawing room.

Dinner was a reasonably enjoyable and convivial affair, particularly as Mr Bingley’s friends recently added to the family circle were, like himself, jovial, good-tempered and quite able to initiate and maintain a genial conversation, under the cover of which any tensions between some of the people present could easily escape general notice.

When the ladies rose to retire after dinner, Elizabeth could not help but turn a supplicating look towards her uncle, and she was in no small measure relieved to note that he received it with a nod and a rather amused smile. Her aunt approached and took her arm, patting it affectionately as they advanced together to the door.

“Come, let us have some coffee, my dear… and do not fret,” she added, lowering her voice for her niece’s ears alone. “From what I gather, Lizzy, they both love you very dearly and that, if nothing else, should prove enough of a common ground. And once they come to see that for themselves, I dare say they shall both feel much better for it!”

Elizabeth smiled at her aunt’s kind wisdom as they made their way towards the drawing room and went to assist Jane in pouring the tea, with nothing but a small, insuperable wish that she could become an invisible presence in the library for the next half-hour – since at her age and in possession of some better judgement, it simply would not do to hide behind the writing desk!

Having at last poured her own coffee, Elizabeth eventually chose to sit with Mrs Gardiner and Georgiana. It came as no surprise to her that her aunt’s ease and gentleness had soon managed to overcome Georgiana’s natural reserve, and before too long they were chatting amiably about places of mutual interest in Lambton, Bakewell, Rowsley and Haddon, as though it was a mere day or two since they last met. Elizabeth endeavoured to take part in their conversation or at least take interest, for her knowledge of the area was insufficient, in most cases, for her to do more, but her eyes were darting towards the door with too great frequency to leave her with much attention to spare for anything else.

At last she had the satisfaction to see it open, only to suffer another disappointment when it became apparent that the gentlemen she sought were not among the ones who joined them. It took another long half-hour until, to her relief, it opened again to admit her uncle and Mr Darcy.

Her eyes instantly flew to her betrothed and was a little reassured by his smile.

The gentlemen advanced to them directly and were invited to take seats in their quiet corner. It was quite plain to see that they were not at ease, though to Elizabeth’s relief there was no indication of open displeasure either. There will be future times, she knew – that is to say, she hoped – when the same group would assemble in perfect understanding and enjoy each other’s company, but in the all-pervasive awkwardness of the moment, such different times appeared very remote indeed.

“Would you care for some coffee, Uncle? Mr Darcy?” she offered, but both gentlemen declined.

Silence did not reign for more than a few moments, but to Elizabeth it appeared they had been stifled under its heavy cloak for an age, as she nervously and unnecessarily rearranged the folds of her dress and searched her mind for a topic devoid of uncomfortable associations.

“You were mentioning the last performance you have attended at the Theatre Royal, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner prompted gently and Elizabeth smiled her thanks as she looked up.

“Orpheus and Euridice, yes,” she replied swiftly, once more grateful for her aunt’s presence of mind. “Beautiful music – although personally I would have preferred something different…”

“What would you have preferred, if you do not mind me asking?” Georgiana interjected and both brother and future sister turned towards her, mildly surprised but no less pleased to note her willingness to help maintain the conversation.

“I have heard a great deal of praise for The Marriage of Figaro, which I have yet to hear performed, and I must confess some interest for The Magic Flute.”

“I have to own, I have not yet decided within myself whether I like the latter,” Mrs Gardiner offered with a smile. “It is… perhaps a trifle too modern for my taste.”

“Speaking of modern, my friend Miss Marianne Dashwood tells me that she had recently been privileged to listen to a young Italian violinist whose playing was quite unlike anything she had ever heard before. New harmonies, new sounds. My friend assures me it had changed her every expectation of the instrument. It was, she claimed, quite a unique experience.”

“Miss Dashwood must be speaking of Signor Paganini,” Darcy opined quietly and squared his shoulders as all eyes turned towards him.

“Yes, I believe this is the name she mentioned. Have you heard him play, Mr Darcy?”

“Some months ago, yes, I have had that pleasure. I understand that he has already taken the Continent by storm!”

Silence fell once more, but on this occasion Elizabeth felt less daunted by it. She was about to break it with a casual comment on the recent publication of Sir Walter Scott’s Ballads when, to her surprise, she heard Mr Darcy ask:

“My sister tells me that you hail from Lambton, Mrs Gardiner. Delightful village, is it not?”

“Indeed it is, Sir,” her aunt replied with a smile, “although my opinion on the matter can hardly be impartial.”

“Mine is – or had once been,” Mr Gardiner rather good-humouredly remarked, “and I must say that I have always found it very pleasing. Prosperous-looking place, particularly neat and snug. As to the stream…”

“The Errwood,” his wife supplied.

“If I am not very much mistaken, there must be great scope for some fine trout fishing there!”

“Are you fond of the sport, Sir?” Darcy enquired promptly, and the older man smiled wistfully at that.

“I am indeed – although unable to indulge the preference as much as I should wish to… Cannot seem to find the time, I fear – not that there are many trout streams in and around town,” he added with a laugh.

“In that case, if we can persuade you to favour us with your company at Pemberley before too long, Sir, Ma’am,” Darcy offered civilly, “I would be delighted to show Mr Gardiner the best spots.”

“Oh! Do you care for trout fishing as well, Mr Darcy?”

“I have spent many hours trying to perfect the art, under my father’s guidance. I fear, however, that I have not got far. Pike and tench are my game more often, these days, when I can spare the time.”

“Coarse fishing! Bah!” Mr Gardiner replied with mock disapproval, waving the notion off. “Fly fishing is the mark of the true angler, Sir!”

“Yes – I am afraid this is exactly what my own father used to say.”

With a small relieved sigh, Elizabeth sipped her coffee, then looked up to smile at her betrothed, hoping to convey her appreciation of his efforts to win her aunt and uncle’s good opinion, her sense of gratitude enhanced by the full knowledge of what he had to overcome. There was his own reserve, of course, and the reluctance to say much in the presence of a new acquaintance, but it must have been the awkwardness of Farringdon that had encumbered him in his exertions, making them doubly difficult – and therefore more worthy of notice and esteem.

A sigh – his own – caught Mr Gardiner unawares, as he inadvertently noticed his dear Lizzy’s countenance, suffused in the warmest look of unmistakable affection. It was not for him, and therefore he swiftly looked away, wondering how he was to bear it when his own daughters reached marriageable age. Not that he loved his Lizzy any less. Lizzy, darling Lizzy had held a special place in his affections for the best part of the last twenty years, and even more so since her own father passed away. Indeed, how could anyone not love her? A clever little thing – that she had always been – with large brown eyes and an engaging smile. She caught his heart such a long time ago, before he had had children of his own, indeed before he had even began contemplating matrimony, and as the years flew by, they merely served to make her dearer still. She had, somehow, acquired but the best from both her parents, as well as a great deal of Madeleine’s decorum, and principles, and charm.

And now she had bestowed her hand in marriage, upon a man whom he had not admired. A man who would jeopardise her reputation, and that of all her sisters, for some undisclosed reason of his own.

Lizzy’s sudden announcement of her engagement to Mr Darcy had come as a great shock - and his sister’s penned exultations about the Lord’s mercy and their own good fortune had merely served to antagonise him more.

He could not find a reasonable explanation for the man’s actions, and that had deprived him of his peace. Why would a gentleman of his station choose to support his sister and her girls? What would he hope to gain by it – and to what purpose? It was very difficult not to suspect him of nefarious intentions, and the unexpected offer of his hand, just as the truth had come to light, had merely served to make the business more unsettling, and not less.

Why would he offer for her now? Come to think on it, why would he offer for her at all?

A gentleman of his standing could have made an alliance with most if not any of the best houses in the land. Why would he seek one with a modest country squire’s daughter?

Had it been unconquerable passion that had motivated the offer of Farringdon – and having been thwarted in his designs, when his actions were made known to her family, was Darcy left with the honourable offer of marriage as his last resort? And if that be the case, will he not tire of her, when youthful passions were spent, and condemn her to a life of neglect and misery? That girl, that darling girl! Did she know what she was about? Could she not see this for what Mr Gardiner feared it was, nothing but a scheme to buy her and her affections? Or had she understood it well enough and had felt compelled by obligation to consent to this extraordinary match?

And what of her own mother - what was her role in this?

The swarm of questions had tormented him for days, particularly as it had been impossible to drop all else and travel post-haste to Hertfordshire. His only tepid consolation had been Jane’s letter, and her assurances that everything was well. He had not quite believed it, not entirely. After all, did not Jane think well of everyone? She would not have the heart to be suspicious of her husband’s closest friend, now would she? He needed more than empty reassurance to persuade him that the young man who had claimed Lizzy’s hand did actually deserve it! He was rich, to be sure, and should he truly wed her, a life of luxury was to be Lizzy’s lot. But would it make her happy?

He knew her disposition! His dearest niece would be neither happy nor respectable unless she truly esteemed her husband; unless she looked up to him as a superior. Her lively talents would place her in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. She could scarce escape discredit and misery, unless she was able to respect her partner in life…

It had emerged, earlier that day, that she did respect him after all. Apparently, she loved him.

And was persuaded that he loved her in return.

Did he? Did he love her?

Mr Gardiner sighed. How was one to read the secrets of another’s heart?

In all honesty, it was rather hard to believe that he did. Why would he risk her reputation, if he loved her, and set her up as one would a mistress? Were these the actions of a honourable man?

And yet… Mr Gardiner exhaled. He had not appeared dishonourable either. The long and awkward interrogation in the library, suffered with surprising grace for one of his station, could not put Mr Gardiner in mind of a duplicitous, unprincipled man. Quite the contrary, in point of fact. There was something in his demeanour and address that spoke of his uprightness, and belied suspicions of irreligious and immoral habits. So did everything they knew of the man, for that matter, from the impressions pieced together at Pemberley, to Bingley’s account of him - which, however biased, could not be wholly discounted.

Darcy had not fully justified himself - indeed, his general deportment had given the distinct impression that he had not been in the habit of justifying himself to any man for a very long time. Yet he had acknowledged the error of his ways and had presented an apology which, although stiffly and rather awkwardly delivered, had not appeared insincere.

Mr Gardiner sighed again. After the uncomfortable interview, as well as Madeleine’s account of Lizzy’s side of the story, his own deeply held doubts of Darcy’s integrity and intentions had been substantially shaken, despite the thorny issue of Farringdon, and truth be told, he could no longer maintain in earnest that he disliked the man. Perhaps his darling girl knew what she was about…

His gaze returned to her, having drifted for no more than mere moments, as he had fallen prey to his conflicting thoughts. She was still turned towards her young man, joy and the glimmer of laughter lighting up her eyes.

Almost unwillingly, Mr Gardiner followed her gaze – and his brows shot up at the sight of the proud lines of the gentleman’s visage softened into a look of tenderness such as he for one would never have thought possible. Forgetting his manners, Mr Gardiner stared.

Well I never!

With a start, the older gentleman recollected himself and looked away, but before he knew it, his gaze had drifted towards Darcy again.

It was not an affectation, surely, this obvious devotion in his eyes – was it?

Mr Gardiner cleared his throat and shifted in his chair and by the time he looked again Elizabeth had ended the brief and very private exchange and had turned to speak to her aunt, while Darcy was left to absent-mindedly toy with the trim on his armrest, his mien unchanged – until a sixth sense had suddenly alerted him to the other’s covert scrutiny, and then the pensive half-smile was swiftly rearranged into a bland expression of polite interest for Madeleine’s conversation, which would have been tolerably convincing, were it not for a rather more than noticeable blush.

Mr Gardiner masked a surprised laugh under a cough. Who would have thought that this eminently self-assured young man could blush like a schoolboy caught at writing verses for his first amour? Not Edward Gardiner, in any case.

He pursed his lips to hide a traitorous smile, not in the least displeased to have been proven wrong.

It was a trifling incident, to be sure, and for someone his own age perhaps a little diverting, but it had served to show that whatever had just passed between his niece and her intended had not been an affectation – and that he might have had his glimpse into the young man’s heart after all…

With greater caution and much more discretion, almost despite himself, Mr Gardiner allowed his eyes to frequently dart towards the engaged couple for the remainder of the evening. He saw them softly laugh together and sometimes talk, and often smile. He saw that even when their employment happened to divide them, as the evening progressed with music and in a while with cards, they did not fail to seek each other’s eye, exchange a silent message or a diverted glance. Before too long, they would find an excuse to be in each other’s company again, and the turn of their countenance and the light in their eyes gave Mr Gardiner more sanguine expectations of his darling girl’s future happiness than any of the assurances he had received so far.

By the end of a most eventful evening, a pensive older gentleman had settled within himself that the most difficult task for a parent – or a doting uncle, for that matter – was not to do one’s best by one’s young charges, but to acknowledge when they have grown up.

A small hand resting gently on his sleeve made him start. With a smile, he turned to meet his wife’s glance, already awaiting his. He covered her hand with his and pressed it gently, acknowledging the message in her eyes, then offered her his arm and, with a lighter heart and a cheerful countenance, Mr Gardiner escorted his dear wife to supper.

A small party was formed the following morning, to acquaint Mrs Gardiner with the beauties of Netherfield’s grounds. Needless to say, Elizabeth and Kitty chose to be included and, rather more surprisingly, so did Jane, who had lately felt that, in view of her duties as hostess, she had spent rather too much of her time indoors. Darcy joined them of course, but Marianne and Georgiana could not be persuaded and chose the pianoforte instead. Elinor and Mr Ferrars had set out with them, only to lag hopelessly behind after a while.

Their party – small enough to begin with – was therefore reduced to five an hour or so later, when they decided they had seen enough and it was time to return to the house.

As they neared the end of the chestnut walk, Elizabeth noticed an impressive equipage riding through the main gate and closing up on the house. She did not recognise the livery, but its opulence, along with a glimpse of an elderly lady’s exceedingly haughty profile, was enough to give her an idea as to the identity of the caller.

She stole a glance at Darcy, only to see a determined look on his countenance, and a decided sternness in the set of his jaw. She knew not what to expect of his reaction, but she was certainly unprepared for the stiff formality that had accompanied his bow.

“Mesdames, Miss Bennet, Miss Catherine, I fear I shall have to defer the pleasure of escorting you back to the house. It appears that some urgent business require my attention,” he said in a clipped tone. Then, turning to Mrs Bingley who, arms linked with her aunt, was eyeing the approaching equipage with mild curiosity, added, “Could I be so bold as to ask for the exclusive use of your orangerie for a brief interview? I hope it will not cause you too much of an inconvenience.”

He could not fail to notice Elizabeth's surprise and not insubstantial apprehension, so he turned to look her fully in the face and said with great determination, “All is well, I assure you! Pray, do not doubt that!” Then, with a smile in response to her tentative one, he walked off in the direction of the carriage, which was just drawing to a halt some thirty yards away.

Mrs Bingley had witnessed the exchange with poorly disguised interest. She was not acquainted with the visitor, but her powers of perception did not fail her, leaving her under no misapprehension as to what was taking place. Elizabeth appeared concerned, but thankfully not unduly distressed, and Mrs Bingley turned her attention to Mr Darcy, only to see him striding purposefully towards the carriage, his long coat flapping belligerently at his heels.

The knight in shinning armour if ever I saw one, rallying for battle, she thought, not unkindly, and noticed with some amusement the surprise on the sour face of the visitor, as the carriage door was opened and, after a brief discourse, Mr Darcy climbed in instead of helping her out, then ordered the equipage around, closer to that side of the house where the outer entrance to the orangery lay.

Mrs Bingley leaned on her aunt’s arm and resumed her walk, inwardly pleased to note that Darcy was as good as his word - not that she ever had any cause to doubt it.

For the entire duration of his absence, Elizabeth found it exceedingly difficult to attend either to the conversation around her or to the embroidery she took up some time later in order to occupy her restless hands, her mind focused solely on the particular spot where Mr Darcy was, as she wondered how was the interview progressing, and how it was affecting him.

It was fortunate, at least, that the arrival of the equipage was known only to a handful of people, whose discretion and delicacy she could rely upon, and that whatever thoughts or concerns her aunt and her two sisters harboured, she was not to be importuned with their expression.

She had been right. Although her relations cast her the occasional glance to see how she was faring, Elizabeth had been left to her restlessness for the remainder of the time until luncheon, when most of the family gathered to partake of some refreshment. She could not bring herself to try anything, but Kitty affectionately insisted to place a cup of tea in her hands. Elizabeth raised her eyes to her sister in smiling gratitude for her gentle ministrations, only to notice the otherwise very quiet entrance of her betrothed. His eyes went to Elizabeth first, and he gave her a reassuring smile, before advancing towards the rest of the party.

Luncheon was a quiet affair. Elizabeth had no expectation of any speedy intelligence regarding his conversation with his aunt, and was not disappointed when none was yet forthcoming. She was grateful for his presence, however, and for the fact that, thankfully but not surprisingly, nothing was said on the subject by any of the others.

It was Darcy who mentioned it first, sometime later, only in Jane’s hearing, as he felt incumbent upon him to apologise to the lady of the house for his aunt’s ill-breeding.

“I must thank you for your assistance and understanding, Mrs Bingley,” he quietly began. “Please allow me to apologise for this morning’s occurrence. As you have probably gathered, the unexpected visitor was my aunt, come to discuss… a family matter,” he added with a frown.

With a sudden surge of sympathy for him, Jane laid a hand on his arm, in an offer of comfort that pleasantly surprised them both. She had no need for further explanations – the lady’s hasty departure told its own story, as did the nephew’s dark countenance, when he spoke of it.

“There is no need for apologies, Sir,” she said softly. “I perfectly understand.”

“There is every need to apologise for the disrespect to you and to this house that my relation’s leaving without a proper greeting had implied, and I must claim a share of the blame, as I am afraid I have rather encouraged it,” he offered, not quite truthfully. He had not encouraged, he had demanded that his aunt left without making her opinions known to the master of the house, his wife and their sister. “I can only add that it could not be helped.”

Darcy said no more, his meaning clear to both. He could not have allowed Elizabeth to be touched by this – nor should it have involved the rest of the party. The mortification for everyone concerned would have been intolerable.

As it happened, very few learned of the incident at all. Mrs Gardiner had unfortunately seen enough of it to warrant an explanation and, for the sake of their newly-established amicability, Darcy could but hope that whatever her nieces chose to impart was satisfactory. He also wondered if Bingley had been informed and was persuaded that he must have been; the connection he and Mrs Bingley shared rather suggested they did not keep much from each other – if anything.

For his own part, much as he believed in openness, he could not bring himself to give Elizabeth more than a brief summary of his discussion with his aunt, later on that day, when a brief stroll before dinner gave them the opportunity for private discourse. Darcy had offered her his arm, then had begun, without preamble:

“My love, regarding the outcome of today's encounter… Suffice it to say,” he offered, at Elizabeth's tacit encouragement, “that my aunt and I could not be reconciled. This is no surprise to me, Elizabeth”, Darcy added, reassuringly. “I had known for many years that when I was to marry, this confrontation with Lady Catherine would be unavoidable. Her determination that I should marry my cousin Anne ensured that she would object to any other lady of my choice. It is indeed a pity that Cousin Anne could not persuade her, over the years, that she had as little inclination as myself to honour her wishes. But,” he added impatiently, “it is of no consequence. I am not about to trade my life’s happiness to please her ladyship, and that is an end to the matter!” he concluded with great determination, in the full knowledge that enough was said.

He had no wish to give more details of the abominable encounter – not to the woman he loved and had vowed to himself to protect, in any case.

A great deal more – although by no means all – was disclosed much later that night to his cousin over a few glasses of brandy, in the privacy of his own rooms, and the hour of unguarded conversation had gone a long way towards putting him in a tolerable frame of mind.

The shared indignation, as well as Fitzwilliam’s mordant humour had also helped improve his disposition, so much so that by the time his cousin took his leave, Darcy was prepared to at least give silent thanks for Mrs Bennet and Mrs Jennings’s blissful ignorance of the sordid affair – otherwise there was no telling when they would tire speaking of it!

Fortunately for everyone concerned, Mrs Bennet had altogether different matters to consider.

For many days - ever since she had learned of the purpose for the upcoming ball, in point of fact - she had been most keenly preoccupied with thoughts of her daughters’ attire.

At her unrelenting insistence, a local seamstress had been engaged to make new dresses for Lizzy and Kitty, and Mrs Bennet had positively despaired at the thought that Lizzy could have ordered hers all those days ago, when she had first heard of the ball! And then her dress at least would have been finished by now! What had the girl been thinking?!

She did say something about meaning to wear the same gown she had at the last Netherfield ball, and at that Mrs Bennet could not but throw her arms in the air. Goodness, that was almost a twelvemonth ago! What would people think! She was to marry one of the most illustrious personages in the land, and her family could not afford a new dress!

She should have carried her point while they were in town, Mrs Bennet thought wistfully, and have some new gowns made for the girls at one of the best houses, that’s what she should have done! Who would have known, though, what was about to happen, in but a few weeks’ time! She certainly had not, otherwise she would not have allowed herself to be gainsaid! And now they had to rely on nothing better than what Meryton had to offer – and goodness knew that, much as it pleased her to see the familiar place again, the town was not renowned for its haute couture!

And there was no telling if the new dress would be ready in time! Gracious, the embarrassment! Dear Lizzy was to marry someone as wealthy as Mr Darcy, and she might not have a decent gown to wear at her own engagement ball!

Perhaps a dress of Jane’s should have been altered to suit Lizzy, that would have taken less time, and Jane had a host of pretty new things made when she was married! But Lizzy had insisted that if the new gown was not ready, she will wear nothing but the old one and there was no moving her once she got a notion in her head – that Mrs Bennet knew of old. Not that it bothered her, not now, not anymore. After all, Lizzy can be stubborn if she so chooses! The dear girl! Who else, in the entire breadth of their acquaintance, has done something as clever as securing ten thousand a year?

Maybe an old dress of Jane’s can be made to suit Kitty. She was more amenable, after all, and truth be told, why worry about Lizzy’s attire? She is already spoken for! Now, with Kitty… Did not dear Bingley say there were at least seventeen young men expected to the ball? Seventeen! Dear Kitty can have the pick of the lot! No matter how many girls were to be there, her own daughters have always stood a head above the likes of Mrs Long’s nieces, the Goulding girls or the Lucas brood.

They have done her proud, her dear girls, each and every one of them!

They have done her very proud indeed