Adventures at Morecastle, Part One B

            The very next day the gentlemen arrived to collect the sisters. The Gardiners had been invited to come as well, but they declared that they could not leave their children to the sole care of the nurse, and sent the young people on their way with many good wishes.  They, like Elizabeth, were eager to encourage a reconciliation between Mr. Bingley and Jane. That young lady had been very quiet, but Elizabeth knew that she was very happy, very happy and fearful too, not knowing what would come of this latest encounter.

                Instead of one boat that would hold the four of them, the gentleman had instead chosen, by mutual unspoken agreement, to rent two boats which would each hold only two passengers. They took an open carriage to the dock, which they found to be located in a small bay. The object was the opposite shore, which provided a number of delightful picnic spots.

                Mr. Darcy had decided that Elizabeth had been teasing him the day before, perhaps trying to provoke him into a declaration. Although as a rule he disapproved of those sorts of arts, in Elizabeth’s case he was inclined to be indulgent. It wanted only opportunity to settle things between them; perhaps he would get it today.

Elizabeth, however, was rather less than pleased to be riding the breadth of a bay alone in a tiny boat with Darcy. She dare not even be too rude, lest he lose his temper and tip her into the water in revenge. Besides, not for the world would she disturb her sister’s happiness, this day of days. She had never given up her belief that Darcy was influential in removing his friend from Jane’s side; why he had apparently withdrawn his objections for the time being she didn’t know, but she vowed to do nothing that would offend him.

The gentlemen handed their ladies into the boats, shed their coats, and proceeded to row. Mr. Bingley’s boat tossed and turned about quite a bit at first, which only caused him to laugh very heartily as he worked to right it. Darcy handled his oars with ease, but Elizabeth was too busy watching the others to notice.  For his part, he was content to watch her. She made such a pretty picture, sitting only a few feet away with parasol and bonnet, her profile turned for his admiration.

“What an astonishing coincidence it is that we should all have met at the same seaside town, so soon after Kent!” she remarked eventually.

“Astonishing, yes, but not, I think, unwelcome?”

Her eyes on her sister’s laughing face, Elizabeth said softly, “No. I could not say it is unwelcome.”

He smiled to himself. “Perhaps you could say that fortune has favored us.”

“Perhaps.” Then, suddenly becoming aware of what he had been saying, she gave him an odd look. “Mr. Bingley certainly appears to find it fortunate.”

Now he appeared slightly confused. “Mr. Bingley?”

“Yes, he appears uncommonly pleased to see my sister again.”

He shifted, pulling on the oars with long, smooth strokes. “I suppose he might be.”

After a final, measuring glance, she turned her gaze back onto the other couple. The two boats were too far apart to converse between them, but not so far they couldn’t wave. Their progress was not rapid; Bingley worked about twice as hard as Darcy, who often ceased rowing altogether to give the others time to catch up.

“Is this your first trip to the sea shore, Miss Bennet?” asked Darcy after a time.

“Indeed it is.”

“What do you think of it?”

“I think the sea quite beyond any descriptions I have read or paintings I have seen. Its beauty and vastness are without possible description.”

“I have often felt the same way myself,” he said. He missed Elizabeth’s faintly incredulous look.

“Are you a studier of nature then, Mr. Darcy?”

“Not, perhaps, to the extent that you are a studier of people, ma'am, but I am certainly not immune to its beauties. Derbyshire has many wonders I have yet to tire of viewing. Hertfordshire,” he added after a moment, “is also lovely.”

“And Kent. Let us not forget to give Lady Catherine her due.  She was entirely justified in her choice of Rosings as a home.”

He smiled. “You certainly enjoyed the best of its attractions. I expect that, however well you come to know the formal gardens, you will always prefer your grove, and with good reason.”

There he was, doing it again: implying that she might someday stay at the main house. Not to mention referring to the grove as hers. The first time he did something of the sort, on a walk one day, she thought he might be referring to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s apparent attraction for her, but she failed to see how he could still think anything might arise in that quarter. What did he mean by it? Trying to cover her confusion she laughed lightly and queried, “My grove, sir?”

He had been watching his strokes in the water, but at that he looked up and his eyes met hers directly. “Very well. Our grove.”

That startled her into absolute silence. Surely… Mr. Darcy could not be flirting with her, could he? Worse yet, did he believe she was trying to flirt with him? A vivid blush rose into her cheeks at the thought and she turned her face away.

Darcy saw her embarrassment and contemplated making a declaration on the spot. It was not the most convenient timing, as he was engaged in the rather vigorous exercise of rowing two people across a lengthy expanse of somewhat choppy water, but they had, at least, a measure of privacy. A few words, and they might be engaged before they reached shore.

A pause came, when he could rest on his oars while waiting for Bingley to navigate his way through the currents. The boat rocked slightly, the sky above was very blue, and Elizabeth herself too entirely enticing. “You cannot be at a loss, Miss Elizabeth,” he said slowly, at last, “to understand my meaning.”

Elizabeth, who was completely at a loss, wondered if he was preparing to deliver a scornful harangue to let her know how entirely beneath his notice she really was. She clinched her hands and pressed her lips together, still not looking at him. “I—”

“I should, perhaps, have spoken to you when we were in Hertfordshire, but I remained silent out of scruples which I am sure you can appreciate, considering your situation and my own. I thought by separating myself from you I could overcome the necessity, but when I saw you in Kent, I knew that it had all been in vain.” He took a deep breath.

“Mr. Darcy, I cannot think that we have anything to discuss!”

He looked at her incredulously, and was just opening his mouth to answer when there was the splash of other oars, and Bingley called out, “Hey there to the other boat!” as he pulled his own alongside theirs within speaking distance. “Darcy, must you rub my face in how incompetent I am by lounging around like that?” His face was ruddy and shining from the effort, his grin just as bright. Jane cast her sister an eloquently beaming glance.

Biting back an oath, Darcy replied as coolly as he could, “May I remind you, Bingley, that this was your suggestion, not mine?”

“Oh, certainly! It’s a delightful day, and if Miss Bennet doesn’t mind my blundering I’m sure I don’t either.”

“I think you are managing very well, Mr. Bingley,” she replied demurely.

“See, Darcy, she thinks I row well enough. Why, I daresay Miss Elizabeth is positively bored from being guided so effortlessly across the water. You had much better dance about, as I do!”

“Why, of course!” Elizabeth laughed, pleased enough on their behalf to forget her irritation and mortification for a minute. “Fortunately we are near now. Oh, look, there are people there already.”

“My servants, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy. “I sent them ahead to prepare for us.”

Rather than being impressed at this bit of extravagance, Elizabeth was just annoyed. Heaven forbid that that the lofty Mr. Darcy get his feet wet pulling a boat up to shore! Or that they be required to spread their own picnic blankets and unpack their own baskets!

Fortunately for her equanimity, Mr. Bingley managed to keep his boat near theirs for the rest of the way, near enough, at least, to preclude any private conversation of a particularly sensitive nature. As further security against insult, she began suddenly to chatter about their uncle and aunt and young cousins, and how Edward had been sick and why the doctor had recommended a journey to the sea shore to completely restore him. Darcy listened courteously enough, but she could see the frown in his eyes and the tense set of his jaw. Too late she realized that such behavior would appear as confirmation of her flirtatious ways—why she would be sounding as cloying as Miss Bingley soon!—but she saw no other alternative.

Once their boats had been duly drawn up to land by the waiting men, she accepted Darcy’s hand out of the boat, but lost no time in attaching herself to her sister.

It was not lost on Darcy that she avoided him assiduously for their time on shore. He determined that it must be maidenly anxiety that caused this strange behavior. He had not expected Elizabeth, of all women, to behave so, but he found it oddly endearing. He would have to find a way to move past her embarrassment and nervousness—while not rowing a boat.

The picnic lunch was certainly plentiful for only four people. They were waited on by a manservant who looked utterly out of place, standing there stiffly with sand all over his shoes and his plain black coat buttoned against the sea breezes. Jane and Mr. Bingley kept up a brisk, bright conversation which Elizabeth joined in eagerly, trying not to look at Mr. Darcy. He was as silent as he had ever been, only speaking when directly addressed.

When they had finished and all risen from their blanket on the sand, Mr. Bingley offered to show Jane something further down the beach, and they took off together with hardly a backward glance. Lizzy and Mr. Darcy stood about awkwardly watching the servants pack everything up, and when she finally walked off towards the water, he followed her. Annoyed, she walked off again, over a small, grassy dune. Again he followed her.

“I would like to finish our earlier conversation, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, with great intrepidity.

“Oh, look! Sand crabs!” She moved away to view them but he, refusing to take the hint, followed her yet again.

“You will not escape from me so easily! I will have my say!”

She froze, and clenched her hands. “Very well,” she said at last, resentfully. “Say what you will!”

He bent over a little to peer under her hat. “I had not expected such diffidence from you, Elizabeth. Why so anxious to avoid me? Surely you are not frightened?”

At that her chin came up and her eyes flashed. “I? Frightened of you? Indeed not!”

“You have no cause to be.” He took her hand. Startled, she pulled it away. He frowned. “Elizabeth—”

“I have not given you permission to address me so, Mr. Darcy!”

Now he was beginning to look vexed. “Must everything be a competition  with you?” he demanded. “You must know my desires.”

“Your desires?“

“My most ardent desires.” He caught at her hand again. Elizabeth stared at him in confusion. “And I think that I know your desires as well.”

“Now that, sir, you do not,” she replied tightly.

“Are you angry with me because you think I’m being presumptuous?” He sounded a little incredulous.

“Presumptuous? Yes!”

“You are too sensible a woman to destroy your own happiness for such a reason.”

“I have no intention of destroying my own happiness!”

“Then we are in agreement.” He finally caught both her hands now in a firm grip, and pulled her toward him.

Feeling like the situation had gotten wildly out of control and quite beyond her understanding, she gasped, “Sir! I must demand that you explain yourself!”

He smiled a slow smile. “That is precisely what I have been attempting to do, is it not?”

“Yes, but—release my hands at once!”

He did so. “You intend to have no mercy on me, I see.”

“Have you need of my mercy?” Had he drunk more wine that she realized during the picnic?

But his look was surprisingly open and disarming. “Of course.”

“For what purpose? Surely there is nothing I can do for the great Mr. Darcy!”

He raised his eyebrows, somewhat offended. “Let’s not speak nonsense. If you are under the impression that I enjoy that kind of teasing, you are wrong.”

“I’m afraid that I have not yet learned to cater my teasing to your tastes.”

“I shall give you ample opportunity to learn, then.”

The suggestive nature of his comments was beginning to have its effect on her. This could not be Mr. Darcy being amorous, could it? She had feared on the boat he was flirting with her, until she decided he was far more likely to be taking her to task. But this present conversation could make sense in only one context. What had he said? My most ardent desires? Her eyes suddenly widened, and she gasped slightly. “Mr. Darcy,” she said desperately, “I really must return to Jane. It’s not proper to leave her and Mr. Bingley alone—nor for us to stand around alone either!” She hurried to leave, but again he moved in front of her.

“You will not let me speak to you!” he exclaimed. “You are shy! Why? Is it—” Without thinking, he reached for her hand again, and again she backed away. His eyes lit up with sudden comprehension and his face softened. “My dear,” he said gently, “you need not be uncomfortable around me. I will not attempt to kiss you if you do not wish it.”

That was too much. “Mr. Darcy!” she cried. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Kiss me? Why should I suppose you wish to kiss me? We are nothing to each other!”

He blinked.

“And now I must beg you to restrain me no longer. I must see my sister!” She stormed off across the sand, while he watched her, dumbfounded.

Nothing to each other? Well, he supposed they were nothing to each other now, but had he not been seeking to change that? And had she not flirted with him time and again in Kent, while they enjoyed leisurely walks and talked of marriage, travelling from home and other pertinent topics? She had encouraged his advances—in the most delicate way possible, of course, without that overt chasing he found so distasteful in a woman. He had been impressed that she seemed content to let him do the pursuing, but there was no question that she had used her considerable charms on him on numerous occasions. Her arch smiles, speaking eyes and witty speeches had been turned on him too many times for him to be mistaken.  She had encouraged him, and now she was behaving as it had never happened.

Mr. Darcy was angry.

~%~

                The ride back across the bay was to be an exceedingly uncomfortable one. Elizabeth would have begged Jane to switch with her, but it was unthinkable to remove her from the joy of Mr. Bingley’s presence and subject her to his company instead. She tried a suggestion that she might ride home in a carriage with the servants, only to have Mr. Darcy inform her coolly that there was no room. She said she was afraid she would be queasy riding in the boat with a full stomach, but Jane poo-hooed the suggestion. “Nonsense, Lizzy, you’re never sick!”

                So, anxious, unhappy and not a little sulky, she found herself right back in the same boat she’d been in earlier, with Mr. Darcy glowering at her.

                With a few powerful pulls on the oars, Darcy left the other boat behind. As soon as they were out of earshot, he began without preamble. “Miss Bennet,” he said, “I believe I have a right to an explanation.”

Elizabeth gaped at him. “An explanation? For what, pray?”

“For the difference between your behavior in Hertfordshire and Kent and your behavior now. What have you to say for yourself?”

“My behavior? What on earth do you mean? It is you who must answer for your behavior!”

He ignored that last comment. “Your manner, madam.”

“My manner?”

“Yes, your manner. Your flirtatious, enticing, provocative manner.”

She gasped, turning quite crimson with indignation. She had been right the first time! “I have never flirted with you!”

“Please do not attempt to deny it. I abhor deceit. You knew very well what you were doing, teasing and alluring me in that way, encouraging, nay, I might say positively forcing my attraction for you to increase! You gave me every reason in the world to believe that you expected a declaration from me, yet the moment I come ready to make it, you rebuff me! Perhaps you think I am the kind of man who is content to be a woman’s plaything, but you are sorely mistaken! My character requires justice, and so I demand an explanation from you!”

“Once again, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth through her teeth, “I have never, ever flirted with you! Alluring you? Encouraging you! I never knew there was anything to encourage! Why, I don’t even like you! Until this afternoon I was certain the feeling was mutual. Of course, if your manner of expressing an attraction is to insult the woman you’re attracted to, then it’s no wonder that you couldn’t discern the difference between a woman who’s flirting with you and one who’s genuinely trying to offend you!”

If Elizabeth was red, Darcy was pale. “And is this all the answer I am to receive?” he demanded after a speechless moment.

“Mr. Darcy, women who accuse you of pride, vanity and a propensity to hate everybody are not trying to entice you!”

He opened his mouth and shut it again, wildly casting around for an example to throw back at her. “You invited me to walk with you in the grove!” he pointed out triumphantly. 

“I did no such thing!”

“Yes, you did! You told me repeatedly that it was your favorite place to walk.”

“So that you would avoid it!”

“Well, what about our conversation on women settling near their families? You said very pointedly that a woman could be settled too near, and blushed because you knew we were both thinking of Derbyshire!”

She gasped again. “Derbyshire? Why should I be thinking of Derbyshire? I was thinking of Jane and Netherfield!”

There was a long silence after that one. Darcy, still pale, rowed with vicious swiftness while Elizabeth clung to her seat and refused to look at him. “I think it is deliberate sophistry on your part to pretend that you did not notice my regard for you,” he said at last, in a resentful tone.

“Why, of course! I always take refusal to converse as evidence of admiration.”

“I paid you pointed attentions, you know I did!”

“What attentions? Staring at me from across the parlor? When did that become a part of proper courting etiquette?”

She couldn’t help but look at him as she spoke; his face was flushed from exertion, his hair tousled by the breeze; in his shirt sleeves, he looked little like the inscrutable gentleman she was used to meet. He met her eyes almost sternly. “Do you imagine that I stared out of indifference? Or that I sought you repeatedly in the grove because I disliked you?”

Since that was precisely what she had so foolishly imagined, she blushed anew, her gaze falling. Yet at the last she rallied herself enough to say, “What I thought, sir, was that I wasn’t handsome enough to tempt you.”

The tips of Darcy’s oars skidded across the water as he missed his stroke. His eyes widened in alarm and chagrin. It seemed they had reached an impasse in their argument, each having scored an unanswerable point. Both were extremely embarrassed at their current situation, although only one was suffering pain of another sort. But Darcy pushed aside the rending in his chest for now; there would be time enough to feel it later.

Mr. Bingley had been left far behind by Darcy’s efficient passage across the bay. When they reached the dock, Darcy climbed out, tied the boat up, and extended his hand to Elizabeth. She took it out of necessity, but released it as quickly as possible, and they stood awkwardly, as far apart as the narrow wooden platform would allow them.

Watching the other boat’s agonizingly slow progress across the waves in their direction, Elizabeth’s thoughts returned to her sister. Remembering her very great happiness throughout the day, she was emboldened to speak again, no matter the awkwardness. “Mr. Darcy,” she began, and felt rather than heard him shift beside her, “I must beg of you not to let the unpleasantness of today’s encounter interfere with the happiness of your friend and my sister. Do not take him away, please! Jane has been disconsolate since he left Netherfield, and while he has not proven himself very steady in his actions, his affections do not appear to have altered from what they were. She is the best of all women; if there is any chance that he may make her happy by his choice, do not deprive them both. I know you have influence with Mr. Bingley, and again I beg you not to use it against Jane in your anger at me.”

“I have as much concern for my friend as you do for your sister, Miss Bennet,” he replied stiffly. “I would never seek to interfere with his happiness for selfish reasons.”

“Surely you can see, after today, that that happiness lies with her?”

“I do not believe that is for me to say.” She pressed her lips and looked down, and despite himself, he found himself relenting toward her. Even in his anger and disappointment, he could not deny her. “But I shall certainly not seek to remove him, or hasten his leaving.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. It was the last thing either of them said until the others joined them.

Adventures at Morecastle, Part One A

Blogger seems to be having trouble handling this whole thing in one post, so I'm going to be splitting each part in two. There are five of them and they are plenty long! I will post A and B (and C if necessary) all one after the other, so that you can get a whole part.


                                                                    Adventures at Morecastle

Part 1: Boating

“Oh, Jane!” declared Elizabeth. “What are men to sand and sea?”

Jane smiled. “I never knew it could be so beautiful,” she admitted. “The paintings I’ve seen didn’t do it justice.”

“Justice? Not any more than mud pies do Hill’s blueberry tarts justice!” Laughing, she began to run along the sand, albeit a bit awkwardly. Jane followed her, clutching her bonnet and joining in her laughter good naturedly. Lizzy’s own bonnet fell off her head and several of her curls came undone or clung to her face as she came to a gasping halt. When she could breathe again she collapsed on the sand with a sigh of contentment.

“Lizzy,” said Jane in mild reproach, “you’ll ruin your dress.”

“Oh, what is muslin to the superior pleasures of the earth? Jane, how I wish we had come here earlier. How glad I am after all that my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner could not go to the Lakes. I could never have gone there with you, you know, and everything is better with you nearby.”

Jane seated herself in lady-like fashion on a nearby rock. “It is too bad about little Edward becoming so ill, though. I am sure no one ever wished to have to go the coast, or for such a reason.”

“He is well, dearest,” smiled her sister reassuringly. “The doctor said he was well indeed; he just needs some healthy air and sunshine to recover completely. It was so kind of Aunt Gardiner to wish to bring us along! I am just sorry that the whole time I was in Kent you were dealing with such anxiety.”

“I thank God that none of the others got sick.” She repeated her frequent comment of the last week. “And I am glad that I was there to help care for the children while our aunt was so distracted.  Were you sorry to leave your friend so soon?”

“Not really.  My time there did pass more pleasantly than I had expected. I enjoyed Charlotte’s company very much, and the frequent visits from Colonel Fitzwilliam were very agreeable, but I believe I have had enough of Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine to last me another year at least.”

Jane looked rather slyly. “You must tell me of this Colonel Fitzwilliam. He sounds like a most pleasant man.”

“A very pleasant man indeed,” she agreed with a laugh, and slight color on her cheeks. “A most gentlemanly man, with all the charm and manners which his cousin lacks.”

“I am sorry you should still dislike Mr. Darcy so much. Surely he was not uncivil to you?”

“Oh! No more than to everyone else. He was generally uncivil; generally silent and uncommunicative, that is. I must say he treated me to his glare rather more often than the others, but at least he never said anything slighting to me that I noticed.”

“But you enjoyed speaking with the colonel.”

“Oh yes. We talked on all manner of subjects. I don’t know that I’ve ever had the opportunity to converse with a man who had such a well-informed mind.”

“And his father is an earl?”

“A real life earl. Now, Jane, don’t start talking like our mother!”

“Of course not, dear. But I cannot help but wonder if he might have formed an attachment to you.”

Again she blushed a bit. “I do not think so. Oh, he came often, but there wasn’t really anything else for them to do, you know. Why even Mr. Darcy came often!”

“I imagine you were the main attraction for both of them, Lizzy. Why else would they have called so often? Surely not only to see the Collinses.”

“Well we shall each agree to think as we please on the subject. You’ll begin to sound like Charlotte next.” She stood up and dusted her sandy posterior. Jane joined her arm with hers, and the two sisters began to stroll back up the beach the way they had come.

“What did Charlotte say?”

“Oh, she tried to make out that Mr. Darcy admired me.”

Jane thought about this. “I do not see why he should not admire you,” she said. “It seems perfectly natural to me.”

“Of course it does! Dearest Jane!” She smiled affectionately and squeezed her arm.

“If it’s true that he looked at you a lot I am sure she was right. Why else would a man want to look at  you but to admire you?”

“To criticize me, I suppose. It’s what I always thought.”

“I think you are being unkind to Mr. Darcy to be always suspecting his motives so. “

“Perhaps. But on a day like this, what does it matter?” She turned her face up to the sun and would speak no more of serious subjects.

~%~

“Do you think she will like it?” asked Charles Bingley anxiously where he stood on the sea wall.

His friend Fitzwilliam Darcy shrugged. “Well enough, I dare say.” He seemed a little distracted, almost as if he was searching the beach for something.

“I still don’t understand why she wants to come here instead of Weymouth or Brighton, but it is very pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yes, very pretty,” replied the other, who, however, was not really thinking of the sand and sea at that moment.

“I do appreciate your coming here with me to check out the houses.”

That finally caught Mr. Darcy’s attention. “Really, Bingley,” he said, “you must have greater confidence in your ability to make your own decisions. Surely you can rent a house at the sea shore without requiring a second opinion!”

Mr. Bingley grinned back, not in the least offended. “But how should I get your company if I did not always need your opinion?” he asked.

“By asking for it, of course.”

“Well, but you do give the best advice, Darcy. Why, without you I would have taken that house in the middle of town!”

“That’s because you didn’t consider how little your sister would like to have every passer by staring into her parlor window.”

“Exactly! I never think of these things, but you always do!”

“That’s because I’ve been arranging my own affairs for rather longer than you have,” said Darcy, in a gentler tone. “Would you care for a walk along the beach?”

“Oh, yes, what a fine idea!”

They set out immediately, although they weren’t really ideally dressed for walking through the sand. Darcy wondered for the hundredth time just how big a fool he actually was being, even if as he could not help but peer at every female figure they passed.

It had been a considerable shock to him when Miss Elizabeth Bennet left Kent earlier than planned so that she could join her uncle and his family at the sea shore. He had been just on the verge of proposing to her, holding out with a sense of virtuous reluctance even while he daydreamed about married life with her, when the news had arrived. It had arrived over his morning eggs and coffee, too, which was an added aggravation. The decision, apparently, was the work of little more than a day. According to Mrs. Collins, when he and his cousin had visited the parsonage to get details, Elizabeth had been very anxious over the welfare of a young cousin who had taken ill shortly after her arrival in Hunsford. Then one day a letter arrived saying that he was much improved but the doctor thought they should take him to the coast for a holiday, so the whole family was going, including the elder Miss Bennet, and would Elizabeth like to come too? She liked very well, and had written immediately to accept, and then been gone before the gentleman even realized she was going.

Darcy had been more than a little put out. What did she mean, leaving like that, without even bidding them goodbye? Didn’t she know that he was only seeking an opportunity to speak to her? Nor could Mrs. Collins even recall exactly which seaside town they were to visit—she thought perhaps it hadn’t been determined yet when the letter arrived.  He was as petulant as a debutante the first day, thinking himself ill-used indeed.

The second day the reality of the situation dawned. Elizabeth was gone. She was gone—out of his life entirely, if he didn’t take some measure to actively pursue her. At first he tried to persuade himself that it was for the best. He had been about to make a dreadful mistake and had been saved. But that opinion did not outlast the third day.

By the time he had left Rosings and returned to his house in London, Darcy was determined to find Elizabeth Bennet. If need be, he would wait until her holiday at the sea had come to an end and go to Longbourn. Maybe he would even go to Longbourn now, get her father’s permission and find out from him where she was. But he shrank from declaring his intentions to her father before he had declared them to her and hesitated. While he was hesitating, Bingley had written to tell him that his sister had made up her mind to spend the summer in Morecastle, and was anxious that they choose a house early before they all were taken, and would Darcy like to come with him? Besides the fact that he disliked disappointing his friend (especially after his earlier, greater disappointment the November before), the coincidence seemed too fair, too Providential, to be overlooked.

But now, trudging through soft sand past one unfamiliar face after another, he felt ridiculous. Why, of all the sea side towns in the south of England, should Elizabeth be in this one? Not to mention the fact that he was here with Bingley, which couldn’t help but be awkward if they did meet. His early optimism fading quickly, he began muttering imprecations under his breath.

All of a sudden the man beside him halted abruptly. Looking up, Darcy was blinded for a moment by the glare off the water, but as his eyes adjusted they came to rest on a pair of flushed, familiar young women walking merrily over the sand in their direction. He drew a deep breath.

“Miss Bennet!” exclaimed both men at once.

~%~

Elizabeth experienced a sense of irritated shock. He! What was he doing here? Was she never to be rid of him? “Mr. Darcy!” she replied, and heard Jane’s voice saying, “Mr. Bingley!” at the same time. Only then did she notice the other young man who was staring at her sister in a sort of awed wonder.

The greetings were awkward.

“Miss Elizabeth.”

“Mr. Bingley.”

“Miss Bennet.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“Miss Elizabeth.”

“Miss Bennet.”

“Mr. Bingley.”

Having now established that they all knew each other’s names, they fell silent. Elizabeth was too busy watching Mr. Bingley watch her sister to realize how Mr. Darcy was watching her. “Good day,” said Bingley at last. “How are you? What brings you to the sea shore?”

“My cousin. Good day. Very well,” answered Jane, not very lucidly.

He didn’t seem to mind. “That’s excellent. I—um,” he swallowed. “How is your family?”

“They are perfectly well,” said Elizabeth on her behalf, when Jane didn’t immediately reply. “And you? How are your sisters?”

“V-very well. We are—that is to say, my sister Caroline and I are to take a house for the summer here. Will you… be here for the summer?”

“A few weeks. We are not yet certain how long it may be.”

“Indeed.” After which word he and Jane promptly lost all civility in admiring gazes.

Elizabeth was much too pleased to be offended, but she was surprised to suddenly find Mr. Darcy at her side, and smiling down at her in a way that made her vaguely uncomfortable.

“Well met, Miss Bennet,” he said softly.

Thrown off guard by his warm tone, she said, “I… did not expect to see you here.”

“Yet here I am,” he replied, looking rather smug. “In truth I did wonder if this might be the town you and your family had removed to. I am relieved to find it so.”

She blinked. Relieved? He was relieved? “And your reason for being here, sir?”

“I came to advise Bingley.” And search for you.

“Oh.” Of course. Did the other ever make a move without him?

Down the beach a few paces, Mr. Bingley was slowly recovering his wits, and had the presence of mind to offer a deeply blushing Jane his arm. “May we escort you to your destination, Miss Bennet?”

“We should be honored, sir. We were about to return to the house.”

“Of course. This way?” It was not, in fact, that way, but Jane was not paying attention and merely nodded. They began to walk, forgetting entirely about the couple behind them. Before she knew it, Elizabeth found herself on Mr. Darcy’s arm, being tenderly escorted over the beach. Most unnervingly of all, he had placed his hand in proprietary fashion over hers. She told herself that he was just trying to give her that little bit of extra support, but it was all she could do not to jerk away.

“Your friends at Rosings were surprised to find that you had departed our company so quickly, and without notice,” said Darcy.

She almost gaped at the hint of hurt in his tone. “I meant no offense to Lady Catherine. It was simply that my aunt was to depart almost immediately and I had to hurry if I was to join them.”

Darcy frowned at her apparently deliberate misunderstanding. “Lady Catherine was not the only one at Rosings.”

“I am afraid that Miss de Bourgh and I never had a chance to develop much of a friendship,” she replied sweetly, “but I hope Colonel Fitzwilliam understood why I had to leave.”

His frown grew. “He was surprised, but not certainly not angry. Fitzwilliam has many ladies among his acquaintance, you know, and although I know he enjoys female company I do not believe he has ever held one particularly above another.”

She nearly gasped at this pointed cut. “I did not suppose he held me particularly high, if that’s what you mean,” she said tartly, “but I am certain he considers me his friend.”

“I am certain he does,” he replied in a gentler tone. “But you must know he was not the one to whom I was referring.”

She was about to say something about her not having any other friends at Rosings—which doubtlessly would have gone down very badly indeed—when Mr. Bingley turned. “I say, Darcy!” he called back. “Miss Bennet and I have had the most capital notion! We should get up a boating party!”

“Are you sure you can row well enough, Bingley?”

“Well of course I am! I may not have won acclaim at Oxford for my rowing skills, but I can get a boat around well enough. What do you say?”

“I am agreeable, if Miss Elizabeth is.” He looked at her.

She blinked in surprise, looked at Jane’s imploring face, sighed and said, “Of course. I should be delighted.”

The rest of the way back to the house—once Elizabeth had pointed out the correct street—was spent discussing the finer particulars of their proposed outing. She was further surprised to discover from Mr. Bingley that Mr. Darcy had, indeed, won several prizes in the course of his university career for various athletic events, boating among them. Mr. Darcy himself appeared rather embarrassed at this intelligence; she supposed it was because he thought it beneath his dignity to participate in such plebian pursuits.

It was a very surprised Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner who greeted the entire party. They had long been curious about Mr. Bingley in particular, though of course they had heard of Mr. Darcy as well. Both men were more or less exactly as they had been described: Mr. Bingley the picture of affability, Mr. Darcy of reserve.  Oh, he said everything that good breeding required, but no more, and looked around the modest rented house with a most critical gaze. However, he seemed bent on accompanying their nieces and his friend on this expedition, so they must suppose he was not as fully disapproving as he appeared.

Astonished in Derbyshire, Part Two, Chapter Four

Chapter 4

He was before her almost instantly, and she felt her hand caught up in both his and passionately kissed. Then Mr. Darcy made a discovery. "You're cold!" It was true. Although she had not even thought of it, she was shivering, and her hands were icy in their light kid gloves. His, on the contrary, were wonderfully warm. "Forgive me."

"No." Then, as he looked uncertain, she laughed again, though a bit shakily. "I mean, there is nothing to forgive."

Her hands were kissed again. "I must get you inside—but... thank you. Thank you... my love." He said the endearment tentatively, and Elizabeth again felt such a rush of emotions, strong and strange and infinitely precious.

"Was it really so simple?" she found herself asking him. "As simple as a sister's reassurance?"

"Simple?" His hands slid down her arms, and closed warmly around her forearms as she shivered again. "It did not seem simple, but perhaps it was. Nothing but the profoundest responsibility could have prevailed upon me to leave you here, I think. Particularly once I saw that I was... hurting you?"

She nodded.

"I must have seemed cowardly to you."

"No, indeed no."

"It was Georgiana who..." He took a deep breath. "It seemed to me that if my sister, who, as you have seen, is shy and diffident by nature, could be so courageous—if she could disregard the past, and desire companionship and affection and happiness over more petty considerations—then I could not do less."

"Mr. Darcy..."

"Yes, Elizabeth, yes." His eyes, so glad again, wandered over her face, and stopped, unexpectedly, on her nose. It was almost certainly red from the cold, and she lifted a hand self-consciously to touch it.

"I must look a sight, I'm sure."

He shook his head and, with quick boldness, bent and kissed her there. The sensation was new and unexpected—a fleeting moment of his face near hers, and his lips, soft and warm and just a bit moist. Elizabeth's eyes opened very wide.

"You are delightfulness itself," he murmured, as hair and brims and hoods and breath all brushed and mingled.

This new frankness was quite delightful, but they could not remain there. When another round of shivers passed over Elizabeth, Darcy moved away. "Come. I cannot have you falling ill through my selfishness."

"I am never ill," she said, but went with him. He gave her his arm and she wrapped both her hands around it, to his evident pleasure. His free hand came to cover hers, and though they had to fight the wind as they walked back up to the path to house, Elizabeth felt it was not so cold any more.

"May I go to your father?" He had to speak into her ear. She nodded, and tried not to feel anxious. At the doorstep they paused, both reluctant to give up their solitude, no matter the necessity. "Promise me you will go get warm."

"And what about you?"

"I am not cold." Something about the almost rueful way he smiled made her heart beat faster again. In some ways, every minute she spent with him was more unsettling than the last. A long, rich moment stretched out between them before he finally pushed the door open.

~%~

They entered the house by the same door through which they had left. Mrs. Hill was standing in the passageway, and Elizabeth colored a bit as she handed off her cloak and gloves to her. Glancing only fleetingly at Darcy, she escaped up the stairs to make herself a fit sight again.

Her countenance, when she sat down before the mirror, was indeed very red, her cheeks chapped from the wind, and her hair a tangled mess. But her eyes shone out, and she could not think herself too unbecoming. Her hands trembled as she pulled her pins out and lifted the brush. It hardly seemed possible; how could it be possible?

It took her some minutes to compose herself, but she could not linger too long; even now, her father might be wishing to speak with her. Hesitantly, she descended the stairs, but there was no one there. She peered into the parlor where her mother and sisters sat; Darcy was not there either. Resigning herself to wait, she took a seat in the entrance hall and folded her hands. She was an engaged woman. She, Longbourn's Lizzy Bennet, was engaged to be married to Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire. That glorious estate she had visited would be her home. She stood up.

She was engaged. She was an engaged woman. To Mr. Darcy.  Mr. Darcy was speaking with her father even now. She wrung her hands.

Oh, why had she been so intemperate? Why had she spoken her dislike of him so freely? Her father would surely think she had run mad! She began to pace.

Just as she begun pacing, the door to her father's library opened, and she jumped. Mr. Darcy stepped out, checking when he saw her standing there. Their eyes met; without a word, he stood aside, holding the door open for her. Her arm brushed against his coat as she entered.

~%~

Her father was very surprised, and not best pleased, but when she had done all she could to explain, and assured him that she held Mr. Darcy in very high esteem, that she believed that she could love him very well—if she did not already, a point on which Elizabeth herself was not altogether clear—and then finally resorted to telling that it was Darcy who rescued Lydia, he was finally satisfied.

Going out, she found Darcy in the hall just as she had been, already well into his pacing. Beyond him, she spied Kitty's face in a doorway, but it disappeared in a flash. She must suppose her mother was ordering wedding clothes by now.

Summoning the happiness she did know she possessed, she smiled reassuringly at her newly betrothed. He was at her side at once, and his smile was of the kind to make her forget everything else. Really, he was so excessively handsome that she thought she would have to spend the next ten years just looking at him. And trying to make him smile, of course.

"All is well," she said.

One of his eyebrows quirked in a most interesting fashion. "He did not seem... enthusiastic," he said carefully.

She smiled ruefully; it was undoubtedly not the reception he had expected. "He was just very surprised. And concerned for me, that this is what I really want. Once I convinced him that it is, he became much happier. He is in there chuckling over the match now, I am sure." She hesitated. "I hope you do not mind, but I found it necessary to tell him the truth about Lydia."

He frowned.

"He needed to know what kind of a man you are—to understand your goodness, as I have come to understand it."

He sighed. "I had hoped it might all remain unknown, but I suppose it is best this way. I trust your judgment." Turning his attention back to her, he took her hand and drew her to sit on the cushioned bench. "I must away back to London now, I'm afraid."

"So soon!"

"Yes. My business there could not spare me, but I came anyway, and now I must return before I appear entirely irresponsible. My solicitor expects me tomorrow morning."

"But to travel so far in one day, and then have to return immediately!"

He shrugged and smiled a little. "What is twenty miles of good road?"

"It's not good road. It's muddy."

His smile widened more and he said softly, drawing a thumb across her cheek, "It's road that brought me to you. I shall call it good for that reason, if no other."

The tenderness of the gesture and words were nearly more than Elizabeth could bear. Hardly knowing what she did, she took his hand in her own and turned her face to kiss the palm. His response was immediate: suddenly and shockingly, she was in his arms, with his mouth pressed hot against her own. Almost as quickly, he was on his feet and stepping back. Elizabeth gasped and reeled a little bit, putting her hands down to steady herself.

"I'm sorry, I—" Darcy seemed rather disoriented himself. "It wasn't proper—the hall—someone could have—I should—would not—"

"I would." She could not help interrupting him. He stared at her. "You have not imposed on me," she whispered.

A series of blinks were her only initial reply. A flush started up her neck as she began to regret her boldness, but then his face convulsed in some way she had not seen before, and as he glanced away and back again, she knew that he was fighting for composure. "Will you walk outside with me?" he asked after a moment.

She agreed, of course, and stood by him as he donned his gloves and coat again. His hat, still faintly damp, he held as they went out on the porch. It was even colder than it had been an hour ago, and she drew her shawl tightly around her shoulders. His carriage had not yet been brought around, and in the momentary quiet he took her hand again. "I cannot say all that is in my heart," he told her. "I wish that we were alone—that we were married."

She smiled mistily. "I believe I may require some time to accustom myself to the idea."

"Of course, and I do not intend to rush you, but—" He glanced around and, finding them still alone, bent and kissed her again, softly this time. Elizabeth felt heat bloom in her cheeks and her heart, and returned it as best she could. It did not last long, but he looked as flushed as she when he drew back. The rattle of the carriage wheels signaled the end of their privacy, and he put his hat back on his head—but she fancied his hands shook a little. "You will write to me?" he asked.

"Gladly, if you will do the same."

"Yes—and please, do not concern yourself with the cost of postage."

"Do not tell me you would object to a page that's been crossed three times!" She tried to inject some levity into a parting that was truly wrenching.

"Not if it came from you, but I would prefer one uncrossed. It is an abominable practice." He took her hand. "I will send coin under the seal to pay for mine, of course."

"That's not necessary." Somehow her other hand found its way into his other hand too. "I can afford to pay for postage, at least."

"Nevertheless I—" He paused in mid-sentence, as if realizing the dispute was pointless. "I will return as soon as I am able." His hands tightened and released. "I do not go willingly, you should believe that."

Elizabeth could only nod. With a last few words of good-bye and looks full of quiet yearning, the two parted at last. She stayed outside despite the cold, and only when the last bit of wheel and rail had disappeared did she finally turn away.

"Oh, my dearest heart!" cried Mrs. Bennet, the moment she opened the door. "My clever, clever Lizzy! I knew how it would be, the moment he walked in the door this afternoon! Yes, and Lady Lucas will have to admit that I was right: girls who do not work in the kitchen get better husbands!"

Later, she sat in her room, alternately laughing and crying, incredulous and delirious and full of wonder.

~%~

Their courtship period was not perfect; Darcy spent less time in Hertfordshire than either of them would have wished, busy as he was with all the arrangements for their marriage. Once the Bingleys returned he had a place to stay, and with Jane in residence at Netherfield it was perfectly proper for Elizabeth to visit as often and as long as she wished. Mrs. Bennet was also often there, but Netherfield being a larger house than Longbourn, it was at least easier to find privacy.

Putting up with her family proved to be an exercise in patience for both of them. Darcy was quiet and always uncomfortable in her mother's presence in particular, but Elizabeth had the gratification of seeing him make real progress in learning to tolerate her over the course of their engagement. For her part, she tried to keep him to herself, to shield him from the worst of the vulgarity, and to not take offense when his civility was stilted and short.

They were very careful with each other, at first, awkward and uncertain, but by dent of much perseverance in conversing and corresponding, soon got over that. They did, eventually, have to speak of uncomfortable subjects, such as Darcy's early months in Hertfordshire, and all that had happened with Mr. Wickham, and there were times when Elizabeth sighed and wondered and worried if their prospects for happiness were quite as sunny as she had thought them, but since they were both sensible and principled, and the attraction between them was strong, and their esteem for each other real, they found their way through it. It is not to be expected that two young people, one violently in love, and the other rapidly approaching that same state, would wish to remain at outs for very long.

Their first year of marriage was also not without its contentions. They were both too stubborn, both proud, both strong willed. But they learned from each other, and grew in love and felicity and good character. Mr. Bennet came sometimes to visit them at Pemberley, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner more often than he, and Jane and Charles most often of all.  When the Bingleys bought an estate only half a day's drive away, Elizabeth's happiness was complete.

"Tell me, Mrs. Darcy," said her husband one day, as they strolled the same picture gallery she had toured that fateful day, "when and how did you come to love me?"

Elizabeth paused just where his portrait hung on the wall. She looked at it before turning her gaze back to its real life likeness. "I believe, Mr. Darcy," she answered with teasing, arch smile, "I must date it to when I first saw your beautiful grounds here at Pemberley."

Astonished in Derbyshire, Part Two, Chapter Three

Chapter 3

When Jane and Darcy left Hertfordshire, so did the sunshine—or so it seemed to Elizabeth. The following weeks were wet and cold and dreary. She despised it, and she despised her own crossness too. Longbourn without Jane seemed lonely. With Lydia gone, Kitty attached herself to her, and she tried to be a friend and sister to her, but she could not talk to her the way she talked to Jane. She was fidgety, dissatisfied, glad for her sister, sorry for herself, determined not to regret Mr. Darcy, and yet unable to help it.

Did she love him? She wasn't sure—she thought not—but she could have. She could have loved him, would have loved him. He was a man such as she was never likely to see again—and, somehow, she had managed to arouse his admiration, his affection even, so that months of absence had not changed it—but then willful, selfish, thoughtless Lydia had ruined everything. It must be confessed that Elizabeth's feelings for her youngest sister were not very kindly in those days.

The Bingleys' wedding trip was to last a month or possibly more. They had gone north to visit Mr. Bingley's relations in Yorkshire.  Elizabeth hoped Jane would fare well among her new family—although how could she not? Who could do ought but love Jane? Her sweetness and eagerness to think well of all would stand her in good stead.

Who knows but Darcy's grand relations would have been exceedingly unpleasant.

~%~

It was nearly three weeks after Jane's wedding, on a blustery day in early December, while Elizabeth was sitting in the parlor at Longbourn, pulling out the stiches from yet another botched flower, when their butler came in and announced, "Mr. Darcy, madam."

The entire room full of women stared in wonder. There he was, a tall, dark, serious young man in boots that probably cost their combined pin money for a year, making his bow and speaking stilted greetings.

Mrs. Bennet had not much bothered to conceal her dislike of Mr. Darcy, but his presence without his friend seemed to surprise even her into near quiet. For perhaps the first time it occurred to her that he was a very eligible man, and she still had three unmarried daughters. She cast a calculating look around the room as she greeted him.

Elizabeth, recognizing that look all too well, spoke quickly. "What brings you into Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?"

His eyes met hers. "I have business in the area."

That was incredible, but that he should be there for her seemed even more so.

"It seems strange to see you without Bingley," said Kitty, and when Elizabeth looked at her reprovingly—"What? He said I might call him Bingley now, since he is our brother."

That was not what she meant, but Elizabeth naturally could not say so, so she forced a smile instead. "Have you heard any recent news of the Bingleys?" she asked. "I have not had a letter for a week."

"Then your information is more recent than mine. Bingley is not generally an avid correspondent," he replied.

"My dear Mrs. Bingley writes very regularly, as a rule," put in Mrs. Bennet. "I daresay they are busy with his family."

"I'm sure you're correct."

"I was sure to tell her to be very condescending and polite to them, of course. Just because they aren't landed gentry like us is no reason to be looking down on them."

Fortunately for Lizzy's sanity, the butler brought in a tray of refreshments, and then Kitty sneezed and dropped a tea cup. In the bustle that followed Elizabeth looked at Darcy with an embarrassed, apologetic smile.

Glancing at her preoccupied relatives, he said, "Miss Bennet, would you care for a stroll in the garden?"

Elizabeth looked out the window. It was grey and windy and had only stopped raining in the last half hour. "Certainly."

Mrs. Bennet, upon being told their destination, opened her eyes very wide and said, "Of course, Lizzy, you must show Mr. Darcy all around. Take your time! Don't hurry!"

Blushing, she led Darcy to the entry, where they retrieved cloaks and hats, and then down the long hall and out the back. That this was, in fact, his whole purpose in coming to Longbourn became clear as he began to speak almost as soon as they were outside. His voice was low and quick and earnest, his eyes straight ahead. "Miss Bennet, I know my behavior must appear most capricious, but I had to see you. These past weeks... I have had a talk with my sister."

"Your sister?" Now Elizabeth was just confused.

"Yes. As you are probably aware, she is some twelve years my junior, and I have stood as more father than brother to her in the last few years, so I do not usually make her my confidante, but on this particular occasion, I am grateful for her opinion and advice. She was after all," he stopped abruptly, turning towards her, "at the very heart of the matter."

They were now a little distance from the house, thanks to their quick steps, but not far enough for Elizabeth's comfort. She could just imagine her mother running into different rooms of the house to watch them from the windows. "Mr. Darcy, the corner of the garden there, beyond the hedge, is most lovely. Would you care to see it?"

He caught her meaning and resumed his walk, though not so hurried. "Being the sensitive soul that she is, Miss Darcy could not fail to see how I have been... but I am beginning this at the wrong end."

He lapsed into silence and a bemused Elizabeth did the same, until they went through the opening in the hedge. Usually pretty, the small area was today brown from the cold and drooping with water, but Darcy did not seem to notice. "Please, will you take a seat?" he asked her, nodding towards the bench.

Elizabeth looked at the water standing all over it. "No, thank you, I would prefer to stand." She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body.

He nodded distractedly, pacing a little bit while the wind blew his long coat around his legs. With his head down, it was difficult to see his expression beneath his hat. "Miss Bennet, my behavior to you as been reprehensible," he said at last. "As I look over the course of our acquaintance, and my inconstancy of purpose, I can only imagine your perplexity. Particularly after my attentions to you in Derbyshire, you must have wondered—"

"No!" She hastened to interrupt him. "No, Mr. Darcy, I do understand. I understand perfectly."

"But you don't! You cannot, for you do not know everything."

"Mr. Wickham—"

"Tried to elope with my sister."

She gaped.                           

"It was the summer of last year, before I met you. He arranged to meet with her when she was visiting the coast with her companion, a woman in whose character we were most unhappily deceived. He convinced Georgiana to believe herself in love with him, and to agree to an elopement. Fortunately, I visited her a few days before, and she, I am happy to say, confessed it all of her own volition. When she learned the full truth of his character, and his motives for acting, which were undoubtedly both her fortune and his desire for revenge on me, she was absolutely distraught. I comforted her as best I could, but it was many months before she recovered from it." He stopped and looked appealingly at her. "The thought of my connecting that man to her!"

Elizabeth shut her eyes and nodded miserably.

"Other concerns I might be willing to set aside—I was willing to set aside!—but my duty to my sister, who depends on me for everything, that could not be ignored."

"Mr. Darcy, this explanation is not necessary." Indeed, all she wanted to do was to get away again. "I do understand—I did understand, even before. Whatever it is that you came here to get from me, whether forgiveness, or... or... whatever it is, I give it to you freely."

To her surprise, he smiled a little. "You are generous," he said, "but that is not why I came."

Puzzled, her heart beating heavily in her breast, she waited to hear what he would say.

Still with that odd little smile, he glanced around the drooping garden before looking at her again. "I left Hertfordshire determined to forget you, you know. It proved quite the futile endeavor.  I was already beginning to give up hope of it when I met you again at Pemberley, and then... well, let us say that I could no longer remember why I had thought it so necessary in the first place. You were, you have always been," he stepped closer to her, "an enchanting creature, capable of snaring me easily with your loveliness and laughter. I think it is your mind that I admire the most, though, quick and lively and original as it is. Your lack of pretension, and the devotion you show your sister, and all those you love...." His countenance she would never forget, the black brim of his hat slashing across his forehead, the lapels of his greatcoat turned up around his jaw. He was ruddy from the wind and the cold, his often stern mouth softened, his eyes so expressive and for some reason glad. "Will you marry me?" he asked simply.

Elizabeth felt like the garden was bursting into bloom around her and had broken apart beneath her feet at the same time. "But—but—" she stuttered. "I thought you said..."

He laughed, a completely unexpected sound. "I've forgotten half my story," he said, "for which your eyes must bear the blame."

"Your sister." She simply must keep him on topic, or they would both lose their wits entirely.

"Yes." He sobered at the word. "My dear sister, who could see how I was afflicted, although I attempted to hide it. When I realized that my melancholy was distressing her, and that she feared she might be the cause, it seemed to right to me to confide in her somewhat, to offer her what reassurance and explanation I could. And then," he shook his head. "She astonished me."

"How?"

"First, by offering me her assurances that although she could not remember the events of Ramsgate without regretting her own behavior, she was now so perfectly indifferent to the memory of Mr. Wickham that he no longer had any power to disturb her. She was very sorry for your sister, to have ended in the same position she escaped, but said that, for herself, your connection to Wickham should not be a deterrent." He paused, and Elizabeth could only marvel. Still, the solution seemed too simple. "We spoke of other things, as well—of how my marriage might affect her future, of your family's situation, in short, of many of the reservations I had. She urged me to seek my happiness, and did it so sincerely, and with such surprising vigor, that I could not but heed her."

Elizabeth thought about that a moment. "So your sister told you to propose to me?"

"No. She would never presume so far. But she..." he exhaled. "She eased my fears that by choosing you, I would harm her. And no other encouragement was needed."

They were silent for so long that Darcy shifted on his feet, and looking up, Elizabeth realized that he was preparing himself for a rejection. His glad eyes were shuttered now, and the way he straightened his coat and tugged at his gloves seemed anxious. "Forgive me!" she said. "Only—are you very certain?"

"Very."

"I have—perhaps I should tell you honestly. I have been very bemused since we met in Derbyshire."

"I can imagine," he said dryly.

"No, I don't think you can. I didn't—that is, I had never imagined that you saw anything to approve of in me last autumn. And, I am ashamed to say, I believed things that Mr. Wickham told me about you—absolute lies, I'm sure now, but I thought them the truth then. I even blamed you for Mr. Bingley's desertion of Jane, though I had no reason to do so."

"Yet you were correct. I was the reason that Bingley left—though I swear I never meant to hurt your sister."

It was curious, but she could not even care about that any more. Jane and Bingley were married now, and in any case, Bingley alone was truly responsible. "When we met again, I could not understand your behavior at all. It seemed impossible that you might admire me."

He sighed. "As I said, my treatment of you has been reprehensible. I did begin to understand that, a little, after that afternoon at the inn, when you forestalled my proposal with your very justified indignation."

"Oh! Were you meaning to propose then?"

"What will you think of my impulsivity? Yes, that was my intent. You had told me you were going to leave, and I did not wish to let you."

"And yet you came back, even after I spoke to you so angrily."

"Once I realized that it was my own fault, that I had indeed insulted both you and Bingley by my concealment—and that I had taken your acceptance of my addresses too much for granted—of course I came back. You were still there, and I still loved you." They both paused on the word, Elizabeth's heart bounding giddily within her. Love!

"Miss Bennet, I am a patient man in most circumstances, but this current wait is more than I can bear. If you feel you cannot love me well enough to marry me, then please say so at once." Their eyes met. "I love you," he repeated.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. "Are you certain?" she asked again. "You will not change your mind?"

"I am and I will not. No man with the inestimable good fortune of being your husband could regret it, Elizabeth. So far I have regretted only the times I walked away from you."

Happiness, which had been fighting a fierce war with caution, triumphed and danced on caution's grave. It was incredible that they were standing here in a rain-soaked corner of Longbourn's gardens, blown about by the wind as Mr. Darcy made his profession of love and offered her the one thing she had thought so unattainable. It was the astonishing end to a sequence of astonishing events, and how it come about that she should be so deliriously pleased at the idea of marrying a man she once despised she didn't know, but there it was and there they were and—"Yes." She laughed into the cold breeze. "Yes, Mr. Darcy, I will certainly marry you."