Believing in Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Author: McMann, Renata; Hanford, Summer
Date: 2017-04-05

Believing in Darcy

by

Renata McMann and Summer Hanford

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From Ashes to Heiresses

In the wake of a devastating fire at Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane are taken in by their aunt and uncle in Meryton. Concerned about their situation, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley come to Hertfordshire, but not before Mr. Wickham attempts to use Jane’s heartache to his advantage.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

With special thanks to our editor, Joanne Girard

Cover by Summer Hanford

Copyright 2017 by Renata McMann & Summer Hanford

All rights reserved

Chapter One

Lady Catherine, in her kindness, finds no trouble too small to dispense her wisdom on.

Elizabeth paced back and forth across the drawing room of the Hunsford parsonage. She couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger, anger or surprise. She was shocked Mr. Darcy had proposed to her, and livid he’d done so in so insulting a manner. Her emotions were too strong to be contained. She needed to be in motion.

She heard a carriage arrive, likely signaling the return of Mr. and Mrs. Collins, along with Mrs. Collins sister, Maria. Elizabeth had declined the invitation to visit Lady Catherine at Rosings on the grounds of a headache, little knowing that lingering in Hunsford would result in Mr. Darcy’s appearance. She was inclined to renew the complaint now, in no mood to exchange pleasantries with anyone, even Mrs. Collins, though Charlotte Collins was one of her oldest friends.

Hearing them in the entry hall, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and smoothed her dress. Her duties as a guest required she not scurry away and hide from them. She would not permit Mr. Darcy’s rudeness to reduce her to similar behavior. Crossing the room, she sat down, picked up the book she’d been reading that morning and opened it to her bookmark. When they entered, she closed the book. “Mr. Collins, Charlotte, how was your visit with Lady Catherine? Where is Maria?”

“Miss Lucas, in a show of intelligence I wouldn’t have credited her with before, has gone immediately to the undisturbed quiet of her room to write a letter to her mother detailing every aspect of our time in Lady Catherine’s presence. You will be sorry you missed it, cousin, when I tell you all,” Mr. Collins said, coming to sit in his favorite chair.

“I’m sure I will be sorry,” Elizabeth agreed, for she already was. Sorry she hadn’t given in to her impulse to disappear to her room.

Likely able to read her tone, Charlotte gave Elizabeth an amused smile, seating herself near the fire.

Mr. Collins, taking Elizabeth’s reply as encouragement, was more than pleased to go into great detail about their visit, beginning with what they were offered to eat and drink. It was an uninteresting tale, but Elizabeth listened with a smooth face and proper responses. Her anger at Mr. Darcy, and disdain for his uncouth behavior, made her resolve not to let Mr. Collins’ obnoxiousness make her any less polite than she should be.

“Then, there was the fine manner of advice Lady Catherine was so kind as to bestow on us,” Mr. Collins said after exhausting every detail pertaining to wine and food. He seemed unaware he carried nearly the entirety of the conversation himself, not pausing for more than polite agreement, or that Elizabeth had eaten and drank the same offerings on previous occasions at Rosings.

“A moment, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said, turning to Elizabeth with a wan smile.

Elizabeth could sympathize. Listening to Mr. Collins repeat what had surely been an arduous visit at comprehensive length must be even more distasteful than the initial enduring of the events. Still, Charlotte had made Mr. Collins’ rambling her lot in life, much to Elizabeth’s dismay, and must therefore tolerate him.

“How are you, dear Lizzy?” Charlotte asked. “Did your constitution improve in our absence?”

“I’m much better, thank you,” she replied truthfully. At the least, better than she’d felt when they returned, her composure regained.

“Mrs. Collins is not at all well,” Mr. Collins said. “She is tired. She’s been waking at all hours.”

Elizabeth directed her attention toward Charlotte. “If that’s the case, I’m sorry to hear it. I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

“I’m sure I will be.” Charlotte’s expression brightened with her words.

Elizabeth had known Charlotte all her life. There was something about her mien that made Elizabeth feel Charlotte was privy to more than she said. It wasn’t that she was lying, but she wasn’t telling all.

“Lady Catherine was quite adamant about the harm lack of proper rest can do,” Mr. Collins said. “She graciously condescended to give me something to help Mrs. Collins sleep.”

Charlotte’s brows drew together. “When I confessed my recent difficulty sleeping, I believe I mentioned it is nothing worth troubling Lady Catherine over.”

“Which was considerate, of course, but Lady Catherine, in her kindness, finds no trouble too small to dispense her wisdom on,” Mr. Collins said. He turned back to Elizabeth. “When Mrs. Collins left the room briefly, I told Lady Catherine of her trouble. She said Mrs. Collins is undoubtedly not getting her full nights’ sleep if she’s waking. Lady Catherine said no good would come of it.”

Elizabeth was surprised at Mr. Collins. She would have thought him too dull to realize his wife’s words were a warning, but she was obviously mistaken. He wouldn’t have waited for Charlotte to leave the room before speaking of it if he hadn’t realized she would disapprove.

Still frowning, Charlotte shrugged. “I wake up, but go back to sleep quickly. It is nothing to trouble Lady Catherine over. I don’t need anything to help me sleep.”

“Yes, you do, or you wouldn’t be waking up. Lady Catherine was very adamant about what the trouble must be and how to resolve it, and we would do well to benefit from her wisdom.” He pulled a small square bottle out of his coat pocket. “This will help. Lady Catherine said you should take six spoonfuls before going to bed.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “That seems like rather a lot. Are you sure that’s what she said? The bottle looks quite small for so large a dose.”

Mr. Collins turned it in his hand. It was stoppered with a cork and unlabeled. “No.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Lady Catherine said tablespoons, not teaspoons. I don’t believe Lady Catherine, in her wisdom, meant Charlotte to avail herself of it for long. This is but a generous gift of a sample from the lady’s store.”

That eased Elizabeth’s worry somewhat, but she still didn’t care for the idea of Charlotte being drugged into a good night’s rest. Especially when a glance showed her friend’s distaste for the idea.

Mr. Collins turned to Charlotte. “You really do look tired, Mrs. Collins. It’s already evening. Perhaps you should follow Lady Catherine’s advice now. We can entertain ourselves for one evening without you while you avail yourself of extra sleep.”

Charlotte’s shoulders sagged slightly. She pressed her lips into a thin line for a moment, then nodded. Elizabeth realized her friend must be tired indeed to give in. It was still quite early for bed.

“I’ll fix you a draught,” Mr. Collins said, his eyes kind as he looked at Charlotte. He stood, set the bottle on the table, and hurried off toward the kitchen.

Elizabeth admitted to herself, albeit grudgingly, that Mr. Collins seemed to actually care about Charlotte’s wellbeing. Perhaps his defiance of her wish not to trouble Lady Catherine was born of care for Charlotte, not simply the desire to give his patroness new ways to dispense her advice.

Momentarily freed of Mr. Collins, she turned to Charlotte. “What is really the trouble?”

Charlotte shook her head, her lips clamped shut.

“Charlotte Collins, if something is truly wrong, please tell me. I shall do all in my power to assist you.”

“Nothing is wrong, Lizzy.” Charlotte’s lips turning up in a slight smile. “I’m simply unsure of something. I’ll tell you soon.”

Elizabeth found that response unilluminating. She opened her mouth to say so, but closed it again at the sound of approaching footfalls.

Mr. Collins returned, a glass and serving spoon in hand. Elizabeth frowned at the spoon. True, serving spoons were often referred to as tablespoons, but she wasn’t sure there were even six spoonfuls of that size contained in the small bottle. A spoon that large couldn’t be what Lady Catherine meant.

Mr. Collins went to the table. Giving Charlotte a smile, he proceeded to unstop the bottle and measure out spoonfuls. The reddish-brown liquid was thick, slowing the process and increasing Elizabeth’s unease. She had little experience with laudanum. Her father refused to allow its use in their house. Still, she was familiar with its description. She’d heard people used drops only, or thinned it with wine.

Mr. Collins wasn’t using drops, and the viscous syrup did not appear thinned. When he came to the final spoonful, not enough of the potion remained in the bottle to fill it. Muttering about Lady Catherine’s staff being stingy, he held the bottle over the glass until only a thin trickle came out.

“There,” he said, giving the bottle a final shake before setting it aside. He brought the nearly full glass to Charlotte, his expression showing affection. “Drink this. You will sleep soundly, and tomorrow you will be well, just as Lady Catherine says.”

Charlotte accepted the glass. She sniffed it, grimacing, and raised weary eyes to her husband. Elizabeth bit her lip. She didn’t like to interfere in matters between a man and wife, but the little she did know of laudanum and other remedies suggested that no matter what was in the glass, it was simply too large a dose. Mr. Collins smiled down encouragingly. Charlotte lifted the glass to her lips.

“No,” Elizabeth cried, jumping up.

Charlotte turned to her, eyes wide with surprise.

Elizabeth crossed the room and pulled the glass from her friend’s hand, eyeing the dark liquid with mistrust.

“Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins said. “I must ask you to return that to Mrs. Collins. She is not sleeping well and needs treatment. Furthermore, Lady Catherine herself said Mrs. Collins was to drink it. What will I tell her if Mrs. Collins does not?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I will not let Charlotte drink this. I don’t know what’s in this glass, but this can’t be the correct dosage. You must agree, Charlotte, nothing save tea or wine is ever prescribed in such abundance.”

Charlotte looked at the glass Elizabeth held. She let out a sigh, nodding. “Elizabeth makes an honest observation, Mr. Collins. In all my years, I’ve never heard of a medication for any ill being given so liberally, unless it is a thing usually drank.”

Mr. Collins’ moment of husbandly care fled, his usual nervousness returning. He wrung his hands. “What will I tell Lady Catherine?”

Charlotte frowned. She looked from her distraught husband to Elizabeth, to the glass.

“You must drink it,” Mr. Collins said. “Lady Catherine bid you drink it. She is our benefactor. We do not wish to seem ungrateful.”

“Mr. Collins is equally correct, Lizzy,” Charlotte said. “We do well to remain in Lady Catherine’s good graces. I’m sure no great harm will come from it.” She reached for the glass.

Elizabeth took a step back from the chair, holding the glass out at arm’s length, far from Charlotte’s reach. “It isn’t safe. I can’t let you do this, even to appease Lady Catherine.”

Mr. Collins plucked the glass from Elizabeth’s hand. Before she could attempt to reclaim it, he tipped his head back and poured the thick liquid into his mouth. Elizabeth and Charlotte both cried out in protest, but it was too late. Save for what coated the inside of the glass in ominous ripples, the bulk of the dark liquid was in Mr. Collins’ mouth.

He swallowed convulsively, grimacing. Anger apparent in the set of his mouth, he turned to Elizabeth. “I shall sleep very well tonight. Tomorrow, you will see you were wrong. You will come with me to apologize to Lady Catherine for your and Mrs. Collins’ behavior. I am sure she won’t be surprised you are the instigator of this, Cousin Elizabeth. Knowing your contrary nature, it is only because I care for Mrs. Collins that I permitted you to visit. I’m afraid I must ask you to shorten your stay. Tomorrow you will make preparations to depart. I will not harbor a disruption to my home and a threat to Lady Catherine’s patronage.”

With a nod to his wife, Mr. Collins slammed the nearly empty glass down on the table and stomped away. Elizabeth and Charlotte stared after him. Elizabeth bit her lip, realizing she’d overstepped.

“It’s alright, Lizzy,” Charlotte said, her voice soft. “We’ll leave him to his rest tonight, and tomorrow I will speak with him. I’m sure you can stay. You may indeed have to apologize to Lady Catherine, though, if at all possible.”

Elizabeth sighed, nodding. She realized she hadn’t lasted long in her resolve to behave with less presumption than Mr. Darcy. Thinking of him, she found herself as tired as Charlotte appeared.

Charlotte stood. She crossed to take up the glass. A small amount remained in the bottom. “I suppose I should do my best to save this, so as to appear grateful.” She took it to the bottle and poured a trickle of the substance back in.

“Do you think it’s laudanum?” Elizabeth asked, joining Charlotte at the table.

“I believe so. We didn’t keep any at Lucas Lodge.”

“Father won’t permit any in Longbourn, either,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve heard people come to crave it more than a drunkard does wine.”

“Mr. Collins drinks rather sparingly. I’m sure we don’t need to worry over one use.” Charlotte, her hands full of glass and bottle, frowned down at the sticky spoon her husband had thoughtlessly set on the table, a ring of reddish-brown pooling under it.

“I’ll clean this up,” Elizabeth offered. “You do look tired. You should rest.”

Charlotte smiled. “We shall both clean it, and then have a pleasant evening together. I’m sure Maria will be down soon. It will be like passed days, the three of us chatting together.”

Elizabeth found an answering smile on her face, her mood lightening. She still felt Charlotte was keeping something from her. Of course, Elizabeth didn’t intend to say a word about Mr. Darcy’s horrible proposal, so she supposed she had a secret as well. She would keep hers and not begrudge Charlotte the same right, and they would have a lovely evening.

Chapter Two

“He said that was the dose Lady Catherine told him to take.”

The sun was quite low as Darcy waited impatiently for Elizabeth to appear on the path, for he knew she often walked before breakfast. He’d been up half the night composing a letter to her. No fewer than fifteen sheets of paper, abortive attempts, rested as ash on his grate. Now he stood where he knew she preferred to walk, waiting to hand her the product of his labor.

His actions were not those of a man who held hope. She’d refused him in terms which forbid that. He simply wished to clear his name. Elizabeth had accused him of harming Mr. Wickham. Darcy was uncertain the exact nature of the crimes Mr. Wickham ascribed to him, but he would have Elizabeth know his side of the tale.

Mr. Wickham had been promised a valuable living in Darcy’s father’s will, but declared he didn’t want to be a man of the cloth. Darcy was happy to agree to Wickham’s demand of compensation for the living, knowing Wickham would be a disastrous clergyman. Darcy paid him three thousand pounds to give the living up, but by the time the incumbent died, Mr. Wickham had already squandered the not inconsiderable sum. He returned, demanding the living. Darcy refused. Mr. Wickham responded by trying to persuade Darcy’s fifteen-year-old sister to elope with him.

The sun crept higher. Darcy resisted the urge to loosen his cravat. That he’d dressed with extreme care was not an indication of any desire to appeal to Elizabeth, but done simply to ensure he did not appear distressed by her rejection.

Why should he be, after all? As he’d explained to her, she was beneath him. He was expected to make a match bringing money or connections. Better yet, a match which brought him both. Elizabeth had appalling relatives and no money. It should be easy to forget her.

Well, not really forget her, but forget his attraction to her. Surely, knowing how unsuitable she was, that would be readily accomplished. Unsuitable and unreasonable, he reminded himself, girding his heart for sight of her.

After all, she was obviously either foolish, blind or grasping in her assertion that love existed between her sister, Miss Jane Bennet, and Darcy’s friend, Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth had reproached Darcy in the strongest terms possible for his role in separating Miss Bennet from Mr. Bingley. She refused to see the two were not truly in love and their union would end with Bingley, if not both parties, miserable. Darcy’s choice to assist Bingley’s sisters in keeping the two apart was entirely laudable. It was the sort of thing a man did for his friend.

When Elizabeth did appear, her face was as composed as his own. He suffered her indifference as his due, using it to bolster his resolve to forget his feelings for her. “Miss Bennet,” he said, offering a stiff bow.

“Mr. Darcy,” she greeted with a nod.

“It would be my pleasure if you would read this.” He held out the letter.

She eyed it, not reaching to take it. She knew as well as he that it was inappropriate for him to write her. Only their engagement would render such a thing acceptable.

“I do not intend to renew my pursuit of you,” he assured her. “I wish only the opportunity to explain myself.”

Nodding, she took the pages from him. “I cannot think how you mean to do so, sir, but I shall read it with as little prejudice as I can muster.”

He nodded, offered another bow, and turned away. It occurred to him he’d likely looked upon Elizabeth Bennet for the last time. He didn’t permit himself to turn back.

It was that realization, as he retraced his steps to Rosings, that informed him his heart had already concluded it was time to leave Kent. Forget Elizabeth he must, and meant to, but that would be impossible if she was forever near. Darcy didn’t care where he went, but it must be somewhere far from Elizabeth Bennet.

As he strode through his Aunt Catherine’s manor, voices emanated from the breakfast parlor. They reminded Darcy he hadn’t eaten. He had no appetite, but refused to permit that to dissuade him. He would not pine after a simple country miss who was too ill educated and removed from meaningful society to appreciate the offer he’d made her, and the sacrifice it would be to him.

Entering the parlor, Darcy found his Aunt Catherine and two cousins, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam and Miss Anne de Bourgh, dawdling over a late breakfast. For once, Anne’s companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, didn’t appear to be in attendance. Darcy bowed to the room, offering the appropriate pleasantries before filling a plate. A footman hurried forward to pull out a chair for him, another to bring him coffee. Taking a sip, Darcy wrapped his composure tight about him.

“I believe I shall depart today,” he said, setting his cup down. “Richard, will that be convenient to you?” Richard was to accompany him, as Darcy had conveyed his cousin to Rosings in his carriage.

“If it is convenient to you, Darcy, it is to me,” Richard replied, always amiable. “I was enjoying the rarefied air of Kent, but not more than I enjoy the advantages of traveling with you.”

Darcy nodded, accepting the compliment as his due. Without him, Richard would have to pay his own way back to London, something disagreeable to a man on his cousin’s budget. “I’ll send for my coach after breakfast.”

“As well you should,” Lady Catherine said. “If you must leave, it’s best done early. The weather won’t hold, mark my word. We’re in for a dark afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to see you both go,” Anne murmured. “I’m sure our frequent visitors will be as well,” she added in what Darcy could only assume was a reference to the Collins, Miss Lucas and Elizabeth.

“We must go to the Hunsford parsonage and say goodbye to them,” Richard said. “Not realizing you tired of Kent, I’ve an ongoing debate on Walter Scott with Miss Bennet.”

Darcy hoped his face revealed none of the emotions Richard’s request stirred. Would Elizabeth have read his letter yet? Would she regret refusing him?

Lady Catherine frowned. “Darcy, you should have apprised us of your plans last night. Farewells could have been said then. You would have saved yourself the trip. Now you shall be delayed.”

“It won’t take long,” Darcy said. He turned back to Richard. “Give me a moment after I eat, and I’ll walk over with you.” The words were out before he could call them back, his desire to see Elizabeth one final time outweighing discretion.

“Certainly,” Richard said.

Darcy nodded in absent acknowledgement of his cousin’s acceptance. Was it truly wise to see Elizabeth again so soon? How would she react to his letter, and to him? What if, in view of his words, her anger cooled, clearing the way for other, more amiable emotions? No. Seeing her was proper. He would say his farewells to the Collins, paying no special attention to Elizabeth. Even if she drove him away from Kent, he would not let it look like she had any influence over him.

“Well, don’t sit there like a lump, Darcy,” Lady Catherine snapped. “Finish your meal and get to it. I tell you, if you must go, an early start is the only correct option.”

Darcy applied himself to his plate while his aunt carried on a monologue about the day’s weather, the inconveniences of travel, and the proper means of overcoming them. As soon as it seemed polite to do so, he excused himself, heading to his rooms. He was followed by Richard, Anne remaining with her mother.

Darcy required only a moment to pass along instructions to his servants. They were intelligent and practiced, needing little more from him than to know they were to set out soon. In short order, Darcy and Richard were strolling toward Hunsford, and Elizabeth.

Their first knock went unanswered. Frowning, Darcy knocked again. He and Richard exchanged a glance as the door remained closed. Surely, Darcy thought, Elizabeth wouldn’t have requested he be ignored if he called? That would be absurd, and he couldn’t fathom Mr. Collins agreeing to it.

He was considering knocking a third, and final, time when the door swung open. Miss Maria Lucas stood framed in it. She appeared out of breath, as if she’d run the length of the parsonage.

“Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” She looked back and forth between them, blinking in surprise. “How did you hear so quickly?”

“Hear?” Darcy repeated, frowning.

Miss Lucas’ eyes widened. “You’ve not heard? Mr. Collins is dead. We only recently discovered it. The doctor arrived moments ago, though I can’t imagine there’s anything to do. I was showing him to Mr. Collins’ room when you knocked or I would have answered sooner. I’m afraid the staff is in a fit in the kitchen. They’re terrified it’s something that could kill them too.”

Darcy exchanged a stunned look with Richard.

“May we enter?” Richard asked. “How did he die?”

Miss Lucas backed into the foyer. “Yes, of course. I don’t know where my manners are. Come in, please.”

For all she was speaking rapidly, Miss Lucas appeared little affected by the death of her brother-in-law. “How did he die?” Darcy repeated.

“I don’t know.” Miss Lucas shook her head. She looked over her shoulder. “I am so sorry, but I really should get someone to fix tea for my sister. She hasn’t been well in the morning, of late.”

Darcy frowned, wondering if it was indeed something contagious. They were already inside. There was nothing for it now. “May we question the doctor?”

“Yes, yes certainly. I’m sure Charlotte would prefer it.” Miss Lucas gestured toward the main staircase. “It’s the first door on the left.”

Darcy and Richard both bowed to her. After a quick curtsy, she turned and hurried away. Darcy lead the way upstairs.

Mr. Collins’ room wasn’t difficult to locate, for the door was open. A man Darcy recognized as Lady Catherine’s doctor was standing by the bed, bending low over a still form. He looked up when they entered.

“Mr. Darcy, Colonel,” he said, nodding in greeting. “Did they send for you first, then? Always the lords before the physician, not that time is a factor here.”

“We arrived on other business,” Darcy said.

The doctor nodded, his expression taking on a more amiable cast. “It’s sheer luck I’m here so soon myself. I was returning from setting a broken arm when one of the Collins’ servants hailed me. I just started conducting my exam. I don’t mind witnesses. In fact, I’ll have to look for wounds, and he looks pretty heavy. Does Mrs. Collins have a manservant?”

Darcy shook his head. “No, but I can help,” he offered, unable to stifle his curiosity over what had killed the man. Collins looked unharmed.

“As will I,” Richard said.

They commenced to follow the doctor’s instructions, it taking both Richard and Darcy to turn Mr. Collins’ still form. Darcy found the whole of it decidedly grim, though Richard appeared unaffected. Of course, his cousin had seen more than his share of death in service to the crown, and in much less savory ways than Collins appeared to have died.

The doctor was thorough. When he finished, he started stowing his instruments back in his bag. “He’s been dead for most of the night, I’d say, and I don’t know why. There are no wounds or injuries. Mrs. Collins said something about a medicine. Let’s look into it.”

Darcy and Richard followed the doctor downstairs. Darcy found it fortuitous he was the last of the three, for, upon entering the parlor, he stopped. Elizabeth was there, sitting beside Mrs. Collins. A tea service rested on the table between them.

Both women stood when they entered, but Darcy’s gaze skimmed over Mrs. Collins. Elizabeth must have recently arrived, for her hat rested on an empty seat beside her. Her cheeks were a fine, lively shade from walking outdoors, though her eyes were wide and serious. Of the three women he’d seen in the parsonage so far that morning, Elizabeth was the only one who appeared to have been weeping, but her red-rimmed eyes were dry now.

“Mrs. Collins,” the doctor said, coming to stand before her. “Your husband is dead.”

Mrs. Collins nodded gravely. Obviously, she knew as much. She held out a hand to Elizabeth, who clasped it, her eyes on the doctor. “How did he die, sir?” Mrs. Collins asked.

“I can find no obvious cause,” the doctor said. “You mentioned a medication when I arrived. What did he take?”

In her first sign of weakness, Mrs. Collins looked to Elizabeth. “I put it in the tall cupboard, opposite the oven. You’ll require a stool.”

“I’ll help,” Darcy found himself saying.

Elizabeth turned to him, appearing startled, though whether by his offer or because she’d only then realized he was there, he didn’t know. She nodded. Releasing Mrs. Collins’ hand, she hurried from the room. Darcy followed.

Once in the small kitchen, Darcy could hear the sounds of weeping women. He also heard Miss Lucas murmuring reassuringly. Fortunately, whatever histrionics were ensuing were taking place on the other side of a doorway.

Elizabeth cast a look in that direction before leading him to a tall cupboard. The top set of doors was high, though easily reachable by Darcy. He could see that Elizabeth, diminutive as she was, would indeed need a stool.

“In there,” she said, gesturing. “It’s a square bottle with no label, not large.”

Darcy reached passed her, opening the cupboard. It was neatly arranged, the bottle Elizabeth described readily found at the front. He took it down, turning to her. “This one?”

She nodded. She looked up at him, making no move to leave the kitchen. “I did not expect to see you again, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy couldn’t read her tone. “I came to say my farewells before leaving Kent.”

Elizabeth regarded him with steady eyes. “I see. We should take that to the doctor.”

Darcy nodded, following her as she led the way back to the parlor.

Mrs. Collins had reseated herself, looking pale. Taking in more of the room this time, Darcy noticed the tea set out beside her was untouched. No steam emanated from the cup, indicating it had cooled. Darcy wondered if that was a sign Mrs. Collins was more affected by her husband’s death than she revealed or the result of the ailment her sister mentioned when he arrived.

The cup beside the chair Elizabeth occupied, when he first entered, was likewise undrunk. She did not return to it now, lingering by his side. Darcy found himself surprised Elizabeth should be disturbed enough by the loss of her cousin not to take even tea. He offered the bottle to the doctor.

The doctor opened it, sniffing the content. He turned to Mrs. Collins. “May I have a spoon and cup of tea?”

Mrs. Collins nodded. Elizabeth hurried to retrieve them, offering them to the doctor. He took the spoon, carefully coaxing a drop onto it. He touched his tongue to the reddish-brown syrup. Grimacing, he handed the spoon back to Elizabeth and retrieved his handkerchief to wipe his tongue. He then took the tea, swished it around his mouth and spit it back into the cup.

Returning the cup to the saucer Elizabeth held, he turned to Mrs. Collins. “Laudanum syrup. How much did he take?”

“Six tablespoons full.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “That’s what killed him. Why did he take so much?”

“He said that was the dose Lady Catherine told him to take.”

Chapter Three

I will have absolutely nothing more to do with that man or his relations.

“I did not.” Lady Catherine’s strident voice sounded like a clarion bell, echoing through the large parlor she preferred at Rosings. “I told him to give his wife six drops.”

Darcy had offered to return to Rosings to learn the exact nature of the laudanum and the dosage, and pass on Mrs. Collins’ claim that Lady Catherine was executor of her husband’s will, confirmed by an exploration of the man’s desk. Darcy would normally have stayed to help, asking Richard to handle their aunt. Richard was more adept at dealing with Lady Catherine, but Darcy was finding proximity to an obviously distraught Elizabeth taxing. He had the overwhelming desire to take her into his arms and comfort her. Not doing so was a nearly physical pain.

“No, you didn’t, Mama,” Anne said, looking up from her book. Beside her, Mrs. Jenkinson remained still, her gaze on her sewing. “I heard you say six spoonfuls.”

“You did not.” Lady Catherine leveled a glare at her daughter.

It would take a more formidable person than Anne to withstand that look. She turned to Darcy, her eyes pleading. Darcy gave a small shake of his head. He saw no reason to belabor the issue. Whatever Lady Catherine had actually said didn’t matter. Mr. Collins’ death was undoubtedly an accident.

Darcy cleared his throat, drawing Lady Catherine’s glower from Anne. “Mr. Collins named you as executor of his will.”

Lady Catherine’s look of displeasure only deepened. “I will not serve. I refuse to do anything for someone who so misunderstood my instructions.”

“Aunt Catherine, be reasonable.” Darcy tried for a soothing tone. He should have let Richard handle this. It hadn’t occurred to Darcy their aunt would refuse a dead man’s wish, especially when she, however inadvertently, had a hand in his demise.

Lady Catherine stood. She was in no way near Darcy’s height, but she was a formidable, strongly proportioned woman. She tipped her chin up, her lips pressed into what seemed an eternal frown. “I said, I will not.”

Darcy exchanged another look with Anne. She shrugged her thin shoulders. He tried to guess what Richard would say, but couldn’t bring any of his cousin’s easy phrases to mind.

Lady Catherine stalked over to a small desk, her skirts all but swallowing the delicate chair as she sat. Taking out paper and ink, she wrote several lines. “Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson, I require your signatures.”

Mrs. Jenkinson rose immediately, setting aside her sewing. Anne cast Darcy an apologetic look and followed. While they leaned over the desk, taking turns signing the paper, Lady Catherine turned toward Darcy.

“I’ve written that I will, under no circumstance, be executor of that ridiculous man’s will, as witnessed by Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson.” Lady Catherine was at her most imperious, looking down her nose at Darcy even though she was seated. She retrieved the paper from the desk as Anne set down the pen. “You will take this to Mrs. Collins. You will also inform her I want her out of the parsonage tomorrow. I have to find a replacement for Mr. Collins. I will not have her here spreading lies about me. I will have absolutely nothing more to do with that man or his relations.”

“Aunt Catherine, that’s insensitive even for you,” Darcy said, stunned even his domineering aunt would expel a woman the day after her husband’s death. “At the very least, you must wait for the funeral.”

Lady Catherine pursed her lips. Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson slunk back to the couch they’d occupied. Finally, Lady Catherine let out a sigh. “Very well. One week from today.” She proffered the paper to Darcy.

Knowing he would get nothing more from his aunt than that, Darcy took it with a bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Gladly,” she snapped.

Offering a bow to the other two women, Darcy strode from the room. He went first to his quarters, countermanding his order to his servants to prepare to leave that day, and then walked over to the parsonage. During the walk, he lamented his lack of ease in dealing with people. Richard would have gotten their aunt to behave in a more reasonable manner. If Richard had Darcy’s money and connections, he would likely have been able to persuade Elizabeth to marry him. Darcy sighed. He was not Richard.

Shaking his head, he turned his thoughts to Mrs. Collins, wondering what would become of her. Should he offer her a sum, as his aunt should have? Not as an admission of guilt, but as a parting gift to ease the widow’s transition from the parsonage. Mrs. Collins had a family who would likely take her in, but to uproot her so quickly and viciously, with no administration of extra means, was morally reprehensible. It fell to a landholder to administer care to those beholden to him, or her. Darcy rubbed his jaw, realizing his aunt’s behavior offended him in the extreme.

He spent the remainder of the walk composing himself. Upon arriving at the parsonage, he was shown into the parlor. One of Mr. Collins’ parishioners had brought food and was talking to Mrs. Collins. Richard sat in a chair between Miss Lucas and Elizabeth, though only the former appeared to be listening to him. Elizabeth wore a distracted, worried look. She turned wide eyes on Darcy when he entered. Conversation ceased with his bow, and greetings were exchanged.

“What did Lady Catherine say?” Mrs. Collins asked, still appearing perfectly composed.

Darcy hesitated, realizing he should have used the walk to compose a polite way to impart Lady Catherine’s words.

“She denied saying it was spoonfulls, I take it?” Richard asked.

Darcy nodded. “She did.”

“But she did say it,” Miss Lucas said, looking about. “I was sitting with Miss de Bourgh. I heard Lady Catherine say it.”

“Be that as it may,” Darcy said. “I am convinced the matter was an accident. Forcing Lady Catherine to admit to exact wording will change nothing.”

Miss Lucas looked mutinous, but Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth both nodded.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said.

Darcy wished there was something to thank him for. “Mrs. Collins, may I speak to you in private, please?”

She nodded, standing. “This way.”

Darcy could feel Elizabeth’s eyes on him as he left. Mrs. Collins led him to a small parlor and closed the door. Once they were seated, Darcy held out the page his aunt had supplied.

“Lady Catherine has refused to act as executor,” he said. “She has also declared you must vacate the parsonage in one week.”

Mrs. Collins accepted the paper, glancing at it. Her brow furrowed. “I can easily be packed within a week.”

Darcy did his best to hide his surprise. Despite her apparent cool-headedness, he’d expected a less measured response. “I could go back to her, to negotiate for longer.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure if you thought that possible, you already would have.” She frowned. “While I can be packed, I’m not sure about transportation.”

“I can arrange it for you,” he offered, pleased to find a way to begin making amends for his aunt’s behavior. “Can you give me an idea of what you need to bring?”

“What I brought here fit on one large wagon,” she said, still frowning thoughtfully. “Can I act as my own executor? Do I need someone?”

“I think you do. I would be willing to act for you,” Darcy said, seeing a way to dispense with the remainder of his familial debt to her. He knew he was in no way bound to atone for his aunt’s ill manners, but he didn’t care to permit such wanton injustice to stand.

She regarded him for a long moment, as if assessing his offer. “That is generous of you. Thank you.”

Mrs. Collins stood, Darcy immediately rising as well. Not heading to the door as he anticipated, she crossed the room to a window, looking out. She fingered the curtains with a sigh.

“I will miss this view.” Her voice was wistful.

While Darcy attempted to think what might be said to that, she turned to face him. The light behind her, he couldn’t see her features well. She was an outline of a woman, framed in the drape of serviceable cloth, untouched by lace or trim. Beyond her, the meadows of Kent rolled away.

“There is a complication,” she said, her voice touched with strain for the first time. “I am probably pregnant, and expect to have the baby in six or seven months. I hadn’t told Mr. Collins yet, or even my sister or Elizabeth, wanting to be completely sure.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows. That was a complication indeed. He didn’t know the details of Mr. Collins’ will but, especially if the child turned out to be male, there could be considerable confusion. “I see,” was all he could think to say.

“I realize this complicates the matter,” she said. “For one, though I know the five hundred pounds my father gave for my marriage is still mine, will the rest of it go to our child or to me? For another, Mr. Collins was heir to Elizabeth’s father’s estate, and the child may be male.” She shook her head. “I understand if you wish, in view of my news, to rescind your offer to act as executor.”

“The offer stands.” Darcy wasn’t a man to shirk duty so readily.

Even against the backdrop of light, he could see her smile. “Then my gratitude still stands.”

***

With Mrs. Collins’ assistance, Darcy gathered all documents relevant to his role of executor, including a document that described the entail of the Longbourn estate. Darcy set his servants to the task of arranging transport and general assistance for her. He then set out to call on a local attorney. He offered the documents and explained the situation carefully, hoping the man was up to the task of consulting on the matters before them. To Darcy’s mind, good attorneys dwelled only in London.

“There is no problem with you being executor,” the attorney said when he finished consulting the documents. He eyed Darcy with a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes that Darcy found offensive. “An executor usually gets a fee. I expect you won’t wish to insult Mrs. Collins by not accepting one?”

“One shilling,” Darcy said promptly.

“That’s not a fee. That’s a token.”

“Haven’t you ever given legal advice for that amount?” Darcy’s tone was abrupt. He had the strong suspicion the man was amused by his situation.

The attorney smiled. “Yes, when I was first starting out and desperate for clients. Even then, only for something less complicated than what you will be doing. Mrs. Collins is lucky to have you helping her.”

Darcy gestured, waving the compliment away. As Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, he did not need the praise of a country attorney to know his self-worth. He knew his offer sprang from the laudable cause of doing his part to compensate for his aunt’s unmet responsibility, and out of sympathy for Mrs. Collins. “And Mr. Collins being the presumed heir of an entailed estate, how does that affect the situation?”

The attorney took on a thoughtful expression. “There are two aspects to Mrs. Collins’ situation. One is the inheritance. Mr. Collins’ will is surprisingly clear on that, considering that half of its length consists of praising Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mrs. Collins inherits everything, even if she has twins. The will couldn’t even reasonably be contested, since it considers the possibility of children.”

“And the second aspect?”

“If she has a son, he will become the heir to Longbourn. If the son dies before he is old enough to write a will, the estate goes to Mrs. Collins, since this entailment ends with the heir to Mr. Bennet. In that case, Mrs. Collins will own Longbourn.”

Elizabeth’s home, Darcy thought. He shied away from the idea of Elizabeth being forced from the home she loved. Still, should it ever happen, better Mrs. Collins and a son of hers have it than Mr. Collins. Darcy shook off such thoughts. When last he was in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bennet’s health was unwavering. There was no reason to think Mrs. Collins’ possible son would inherit the entail anytime soon.

“Thank you for your time,” Darcy said, standing.

“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy made his way out, stopping with the clerk to pay the attorney’s fee, which he had no intention of recovering from the estate. It was considerably more than a shilling.

Chapter Four

Anne told me that I don’t like being corrected.

A week was enough. Darcy had a wagon for Mrs. Collins’ possessions. Richard took the mail to London earlier in the week, meaning Darcy’s carriage would comfortably accommodate the three women traveling from the Hunsford parsonage with him. All that remained was to survive one more evening at Rosings, with his aunt. He had yet to forgive her callous behavior.

When they repaired to Lady Catherine’s favorite parlor after dinner, Anne touched Darcy’s sleeve before he could seat himself.

“I shall retire now, I think,” she said, offering a watery smile. “I’m rather fatigued.”

“I told you to eat more,” Lady Catherine said, seating herself in her customary straight-backed throne-like chair. “You are tired because you don’t eat enough. Darcy will never marry you if you look like a stick.”

Anne’s smile turned brittle. She didn’t look tired to Darcy. He rather thought her fatigue grew from Lady Catherine’s extra obsession with her dining habits that evening.

“Yes, Mother,” Anne said, crossing to kiss the air somewhere near her mother’s cheek. “Travel well, Darcy,” she added.

Darcy nodded. He’d advised them at dinner that he would be setting out unfashionably early. His aunt had harped on it, despite her usual advice that one must always travel as early as possible. “Thank you, Anne. It’s been a pleasure, as always.”

Anne awarded him a real, if brief, smile and left the room. Her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, followed her. Darcy seated himself across from his aunt, though he was resolved to tell her goodbye, thank her for her hospitality and retire. He was too annoyed with her to want a tete-a-tete, no matter what good manners dictated from a guest.

“I saw how Anne smiled at you, Darcy,” his aunt said before he could speak. Shrugging, she folded her hands in her lap. “Anne said that--”

“I am not going to marry her,” Darcy said. He regretted even sitting, but he wouldn’t sneak from her house without having said farewell, and his aunt would not be awake when he left in the morning. Why she must select one of his least favorite topics, he didn’t know. Perhaps she knew she was in the wrong over her behavior with Mrs. Collins and wished to drive him off so he wouldn’t speak on the subject.

“Oh, really? Your mother and I agreed you should marry.” Lady Catherine’s tone was firm.

“As you say, my mother agreed. I didn’t. I only concede her agreement binds me to consider Anne. I have done so.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, but since you brought it up, I will do so.”

Darcy frowned. His supposed engagement to Anne wasn’t what his aunt wished to speak about? That was unusual.

“Anne told me she doesn’t want to marry you, but would feel honor bound to do so, if you want the marriage,” his aunt said. “I told her you expect her to. I thought you would want the marriage. You aren’t likely to find a better dowered wife.”

“I don’t need a dowry at all. I’m rich enough.” He was not only surprised by Lady Catherine’s words, Darcy realized, but a bit stung. Why wouldn’t Anne wish to marry him?

“You can never be rich enough.” Lady Catherine added an empathetic nod to her statement. “I’m disappointed you both feel this way, but I will bring Anne to London this autumn for a season. There was no point to having a season when I thought she was going to marry you.”

Darcy stared at her for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Thank you, Aunt Catherine. I hope Anne finds a worthy husband.” He’d never seen her so reasonable when crossed. Remembering the supposed engagement wasn’t what she wished to speak on, he asked, “What were you saying about Anne?”

“Anne said I told Mr. Collins spoonfuls. Mr. Collins obviously believed it. I asked Mrs. Jenkinson and she didn’t remember. Perhaps she decided not to remember. Richard was there as well. When I asked him before he left, he claimed I said spoonfuls. I asked him why he hadn’t corrected me, and he said he wasn’t certain what the medicine was or how much I may have diluted it. Anne told me that I don’t like being corrected.”

Darcy kept his face composed. “I agree with her.” Seeing the strength of Lady Catherine’s reaction, he said gently, “You made a mistake. We all do that.”

“A man died because of that mistake.” She looked down at her folded hands for a long moment. “I can’t face Mrs. Collins. I can’t go to her and tell her that I’m sorry I killed her husband, and it might have been her.”

“Her and her baby.”

“She’s with child?” Lady Catherine looked up, obviously surprised.

“Probably. She thinks she is two or three months along.”

Lady Catherine relaxed slightly, as if knowing she’d almost killed a possible baby was somehow better than having almost killed a certain one. “She can’t be sure, then.”

Her reaction rekindled Darcy’s ire. His aunt had admitted her part in Mr. Collins’ death, yet she’d still done nothing for Mrs. Collins. “Have you filled the living yet?”

“No. What has that got to do with it?” Lady Catherine’s belligerent façade was back in place.

“Make someone pay for it.” She started to protest, but he put up a hand. “You don’t have to sell it to the highest bidder. You can choose among those who want it. Sell it and give the money to Mrs. Collins.”

“He could have died at any time,” Lady Catherine said, somewhat exasperated. “He didn’t even look fit. A fit man likely wouldn’t have succumbed to laudanum.”

Darcy was sure anyone would have been felled by the amount of laudanum Mr. Collins drank. He tamped down a hasty retort, seeking a logical one instead. There was no point in aggravating his aunt to the point she lost all ability to be reasonable. “We will never know, but we can know she would be better off if he’d even lived a short time longer.” He kept talking, not permitting his aunt to voice whatever was on her tongue when she opened her mouth. “I know because I looked over Mrs. Collins’ books. She was spending less on the two of them than the tithes they received. If he had lived a few more years, she would have reasonable savings.”

Lady Catherine looked at him for a long while. Finally, she shrugged, turning away. “Oh, very well. It will be better than talking to her.”

“Thank you, Aunt Catherine. It’s the right thing to do.”

She nodded, still not looking at him.

“And thank you for your hospitality.”

She sniffed. “If only I could say it was the usual pleasure having you.”

Darcy hid a smile. Standing, he crossed and bid her good night, kissing her cheek. As he left the parlor, he turned his mind to the morning’s journey.

He’d made certain the journey from the Hunsford parsonage to Lucas Lodge would run as smoothly as possible. He could have hired horses on the road, but with plenty of time to plan, he’d arranged for his own horses to be available. He’d done so for his sake and that of Mrs. Collins, but also to show Elizabeth she was wrong about . . . what had she called it? His selfish disdain for the feelings of others.

He was resolved Elizabeth would see he could care about people’s feelings if he so chose. He would be courtesy itself. He would employ the same civility with Elizabeth, Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas as he would with any guests in his carriage. Despite how Elizabeth had scorned him, Darcy wouldn’t ignore her. He would treat her just like Mrs. Collins.

No, he mused, heading down the hall toward his room. That was wrong. Mrs. Collins, as a recent widow, deserved more respect and consideration than Elizabeth. He would treat Elizabeth just like he treated Miss Lucas.

***

The following morning found Darcy at the parsonage bright and early. Still, everything there was nearly ready by the time he arrived. He admired the efficiency of the three women, though he suspected Miss Lucas had very little hand in it. He wondered how much Elizabeth had. Was she a skilled organizer, up to the task of managing a large household? Surely, someone as intelligent as Elizabeth would be. She’d likely learned little from her mother, but must have gleaned something from her father and her friend, Mrs. Collins. Having seen Mrs. Collins books, Darcy knew she was the very soul of efficiency.

Inspecting the wagon, he was amused to see Mrs. Collins was bringing back crates of chickens. There was also a desk, which she’d apparently brought from Lucas Lodge, and various boxes with clothing, linens and china, but the bulkiest items were the crates of chickens. He understood the logic of her transporting them, but he hadn’t expected it. Miss Lucas commented that her sister had sold the larger livestock, because they could get a better price here than in Hertfordshire. As she chatted about the price they got for the pigs, Darcy was glad he wasn’t called upon to transport them. He added practicality to Mrs. Collins’ attributes.

His inspection of the wagon completed, Darcy saw everyone settled in the carriage and they set out. In deference to her station and probably condition, Mrs. Collins was seated beside him. Darcy suppressed thoughts of having Elizabeth at his side, doing his best not to watch her where she sat opposite Mrs. Collins.

Miss Lucas, across from him, started the trip reading a book. He hadn’t considered her bookish and was surprised, but said nothing. Not long into the trip, she shamefacedly announced she was feeling sick. Darcy had the carriage and wagon stopped and encouraged her to walk a bit. This was not to show Elizabeth how considerate he could be, but common sense. No one would be comfortable if Miss Lucas was ill in the carriage.

Miss Lucas set off down the side of the road, Elizabeth beside her. Darcy tried not to watch Elizabeth’s figure as she walked away. When Mrs. Collins approached him, he turned to her, welcoming the distraction.

“Thank you for being so understanding,” she said.

“It’s a common problem,” he said. “I used to suffer from it myself, but I found if I looked out of the window at distant objects, it helped.”

Miss Lucas and Elizabeth turned back toward them, the former still looking a bit pale.

“I still haven’t spoken to anyone of my condition,” Mrs. Collins said in a low voice. “I would ask you to remain silent on the subject when we reach Hertfordshire. I would like to tell my parents first.”

He nodded. “Of course.” There was no strain in agreeing. Darcy was not a gossip. Besides which, he had no one in Hertfordshire to tell.

“I’m sorry to delay us,” Miss Lucas said as she and Elizabeth drew near. “I can continue now.”

Darcy suspected she wasn’t truly feeling up to the ride, but hoped looking out the window would help. “Perhaps if you set aside your book and take in the scenery you’ll be more comfortable,” he said, assisting her back into the carriage.

She gave him a grateful smile.

Once they were all seated again and the carriage in motion, Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins made a notable effort to engage Miss Lucas over the scenery. It was a pleasant enough area of Kent, but not exceedingly interesting. After a short time, conversation over it dwindled. With a sigh, Miss Lucas opened her book.

“Maria,” Mrs. Collins said, her tone slightly sharp.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Lucas said. “But I promised Mama I would read Romeo and Juliet. I read most of it, but thought I would finish it on the journey. You know how she’ll question me. I have to read the end.”

“They both die,” Darcy said, dryly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Elizabeth’s smile.

“Oh, no.” Miss Lucas turned wide eyes on him.

“I read it a long time ago,” Darcy said with a shrug. “Still, I believe I remember the first scene says as much.”

Miss Lucas was still watching him with round eyes. Mrs. Collins took the book from her and opened it to the beginning. “A pair of star-crossed lovers take their lives.”

“I did read the beginning. I suppose I didn’t believe it would really end that way,” Miss Lucas said. “That’s so sad.”

“It was sad for them to marry,” Mrs. Collins said with asperity.

Across from her, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment. When she saw Darcy looking at her, she turned her head slightly away, toward the window.

“Why was it sad for them to marry?” Miss Lucas asked. “They were in love.”

“Like Mr. Darcy, I read it years ago, but I wonder that they would have any money. If their parents disowned them for the marriage, they would be poor,” Mrs. Collins said. “I don’t think the spoiled only children of rich parents would cope well with that.”

“Let’s suppose money isn’t the issue,” Elizabeth said, turning back. “Assume they have that.”

Darcy hid a smile. Perhaps Elizabeth was trying to keep him at arm’s length, at least it appeared that way, but she couldn’t forgo a philosophical discussion.

“Then they would certainly be happy,” Miss Lucas said. “They loved each other very much. Enough to defy their families.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Defy them, yes, but forgo them forever? If they were disowned by both of their families, would they be happy? Would their love for each other be enough without all of their other connections?”

“Doesn’t a woman often give up her family after she marries?” Darcy asked.

That earned him a hard look from Elizabeth.

“I certainly didn’t give up mine,” Mrs. Collins said. She nodded toward her sister. “Mr. Collins accepted my family.” She turned a smile on Elizabeth. “And my friends.” Her smile turned rueful. “Even if he felt scorned by them. I suppose it’s because he didn’t have many connections of his own to add to our lives. The only remaining family he had is his younger brother, who I met but once.”

“I didn’t know Mr. Collins had a brother,” Darcy said. He frowned, his mind going to the entail and Mrs. Collins probably state.

“He didn’t speak of him often, but they corresponded regularly,” Mrs. Collins said. “They are very different, even though his brother is also a clergyman.” She turned to Darcy. “His living is in Derbyshire.”

“Where?” Darcy asked. His home was in Derbyshire. Did he know the man?

“East Lambton,” she said.

“That’s not ten miles from Pemberley.” Darcy knew of a Mr. Collins of East Lambton who was a clergyman. It hadn’t occurred to him the man, well regarded, could be a relation to Elizabeth’s sycophantic cousin. Different indeed. “I’ve heard of him. He is well liked.” He noticed Elizabeth raised her eyebrows ever so slightly in skepticism.

“So, perhaps it was wrong of Romeo and Juliet to try to marry?” Miss Lucas said. “They didn’t have money of their own, and they likely would be sad to give up their families.” She sighed, but then smiled. “If you’ve all read it, maybe you can tell me how they die?”

They did, all three of them offering Miss Lucas details they remembered. Having broken the conversational ice, they proceeded to talk about books for much of the rest of the journey. Darcy was surprised to find Elizabeth had read a translation of Herodotus. They talked about it for some time. Elizabeth had a knack of bringing Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas into the conversation by retelling some of the interesting stories that Herodotus had told. By the time they reached Hertfordshire, Darcy had to admit to himself that it had been an altogether pleasant journey.

Chapter Five

“I can’t see how he can be happy to inherit a property that doesn’t belong to him,” Mrs. Bennet said.

Elizabeth didn’t bother pointing out that whatever anyone inherited hadn’t belonged to them.

Elizabeth couldn’t read Charlotte’s face as they approached the familiar sight of Lucas Lodge, though Maria was clearly excited to be home. The carriage came to a halt and they all disembarked in the yard. Lady Lucas and Sir William were outside hugging Charlotte almost as soon as she descended from the carriage. Mr. Darcy’s ever-efficient servants quickly unloaded all the luggage except Elizabeth’s. She briefly greeted Charlotte’s parents, and then Mr. Darcy helped her back into the carriage, which took her home. To her relief, for she didn’t know how to behave around him after his proposal and letter, he did not accompany her.

Elizabeth meant to spend the short ride in anticipation of seeing her family. Instead, her mind kept returning to Mr. Darcy, his face expressionless, as he handed her into his carriage. She was surprised he’d brought her, Charlotte and Maria home, along with the wagon for Charlotte’s possessions. He’d been nothing but helpful and polite since Mr. Collins’ death.

She had misjudged him. She could admit that. Not in every way, but in some. Most importantly, she’d errored in believing Mr. Wickham’s words about Mr. Darcy and permitting those words to color her perception of him.

Perhaps she owned him an apology. With all he was doing for Charlotte, she certainly owed him civility. Her misconceptions notwithstanding, though, he’d still separated Jane and Mr. Bingley. He’d crushed another person’s happiness because he believed that person beneath his friend and, apparently, capable of mercenary behavior when it came to securing a wealthy husband. Worse, the person was her sister Jane, her favorite sister and the sweetest individual ever to walk the English countryside.

Elizabeth frowned in displeasure. No, she didn’t owe him an apology, unless he owed her one. For his treatment of Jane and, indeed, his views on her entire family. If he elected to apologize for those things, she would do the same, for judging him too quickly and for listening to Mr. Wickham.

A wry smile turned up her lips. She didn’t know why she was borrowing so much worry. It wasn’t as if she’d be called on to be much in Mr. Darcy’s presence. He was planning to remain in Hertfordshire only a day, and unlikely to seek her out. He must find her company quite distasteful now, in view of her refusal of him and her harsh words.

Her smile brightened as the carriage brought her down the short lane to Longbourn. She jumped out when it halted, not bothering to wait for the footman. Her mother and three of her sisters hurried out to greet her. Her mother gave orders for her luggage while her sisters, Mary, Kitty and Lydia, hugged her. If only Jane hadn’t been in London and her father bothered to come out to greet her, all things would have been perfect.

“Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said, holding open her arms.

Elizabeth knew better than to actually embrace her mother. What Mrs. Bennet required was a mock hug and a light kiss on the cheek. Anything else and she would complain of abuse to her gown and hair.

“Mama,” Elizabeth said, administering her greeting.

“Whose carriage is that?” her mother asked, looking to where Elizabeth’s cases were being unloaded. “It’s very fine. Surely, it isn’t Charlotte’s.”

“It’s Mr. Darcy’s,” Elizabeth said. “I wrote as much when I told Papa I was coming home. He didn’t mention it to you?”

Mrs. Bennet shook her head, her expression oddly troubled. Then it cleared to a smile. “He did say that Mr. Collins is dead. I’ve never been so happy to hear of a man’s passing in all my life.”

“Mama,” Mary gasped.

“Well, I haven’t.” As usual, Mrs. Bennet didn’t seem to repent her words. “I can’t abide the thought of that man here in Longbourn someday.”

“Well, now he never will be,” Elizabeth assured her. She took mild pleasure in adding, “Instead, his younger brother will.”

Mrs. Bennet flew into a fit at the news Mr. Collins had a younger brother. Kitty and Lydia helped her inside to lie down in the front parlor, Elizabeth and Mary following. Mrs. Bennet railed against entails at length. She also mentioned Mr. Bennet’s disagreeable tendency not to tell her anything, saying he must know there was a second Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth could only agree to that. Her father must know, and had kept the information to himself. He was often like that, though. Once they had her mother settled, Mr. Darcy’s carriage and servants long since departed, she asked, “Where is Papa?”

The room went oddly still. Mrs. Bennet lifted the kerchief she’d placed over her eyes. “He’s resting and not to be disturbed.”

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. She looked forward to seeing her father. His resting was likely a sham, an excuse to remove himself from his wife and younger daughters, and didn’t apply to her. She wondered if anyone had even told him she was home.

“Come, Lizzy, we’ll help you unpack,” Mary said, taking her hand and tugging her toward the parlor door.

“Yes, go settle in,” her mother said, dropping the lace-edged square back over her eyes. “Leave your poor mother. There’s nothing to be done for me. Nothing any of you are willing to do, at least, especially Lizzy. Only, think, if you’d married Mr. Collins, we would all be safe, but no, you must be contrary, Elizabeth. You must always think only of yourself. You . . .”

Her mother’s words faded as Elizabeth quit the room, her sisters with her.

“I think Lizzy did the right thing,” she heard Kitty say, on the steps behind her. “I wouldn’t have married him.”

“He didn’t ask you,” Lydia said.

“He didn’t ask you, either, Lydia,” Mary reminded her.

Though she was disappointed not to see her father, Elizabeth nearly relished her sisters’ bickering. She knew, soon enough, it would come to annoy her, but for now, it was pleasant to be home. Once they reached the room she shared with Jane, Elizabeth unpacked while her sisters hung about the room, catching her up on local gossip.

Lydia and Kitty were mainly interested in what was going on with the regiment. Lydia was becoming good friends with Colonel Forster’s wife, who seemed to be as silly as Lydia and almost as young. Mr. Wickham’s name came up, but no more frequently than the names of the other officers. Elizabeth now believed Mr. Wickham was a deceiver and someone to be avoided. She was pleased he wasn’t more prominent in Lydia’s and Kitty’s reminiscences.

“It’s too bad Jane is staying in London,” Kitty said. “The regiment may be gone before she returns.”

Elizabeth paused in the act of shaking out one of her dresses, surprised. “I thought she would return soon after I arrived home. The Gardiners could send a maid with her.”

“Papa wrote and told her to stay,” Lydia said. “He’s acting strangely. He told Mama she can’t invite guests. He wants the dinners to be simpler. He wouldn’t advance her any money, like he used to. She’s very angry with him.”

Elizabeth felt that sufficiently explained the strange silence when she’d asked after her father. It seemed he was, at long last, attempting to rein in her mother’s extravagance. She was curious to ask him why, but respected his house-wide request not to be disturbed.

It wasn’t until dinner she finally saw her father. Elizabeth tried to cover her shock as she went to greet him. He didn’t look well. He’d lost weight and his skin had an ashen hue. Taking her seat, she felt a tendril of dread twist its way around her heart.

“Now, Lizzy, tell us how Mr. Collins passed,” Mrs. Bennet said once the meal began. “Likely you wrote of it, but Mr. Bennet doesn’t see fit to share his correspondence with the rest of us, much as he never shared the fact that there’s a younger Mr. Collins.” She glared down the table at her husband.

Elizabeth turned to her father, gauging from his lack of reaction that he already knew about Mr. Collins the younger, assuming he’d heard his wife’s words. Her father’s expression was abstract. He picked at his food. Elizabeth hadn’t yet seen him eat any.

In fact, Elizabeth had not provided details of Mr. Collins’ death in her letter. She considered doing so macabre. She’d fully expected to be forced to describe the event, however, given the nature of her mother. She was careful as she did so to make no mention of the switch in who took the medicine, describing Mr. Collins’ death as an accidental overdose. There was no reason to begin a rumor that Lady Catherine had tried to kill Charlotte.

“And now he’s dead, some horrible second son will inherit our home,” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “It’s not fair, that a younger brother can inherit what isn’t rightfully his.” Her lips pressed into a mutinous line. “I don’t believe it. There’s someone pretending to be another Mr. Collins.”

Elizabeth turned to her mother. “Charlotte met him. He visited for several days in February. He’s also a clergyman, and lives somewhere in Derbyshire.”

“I can’t see how he can be happy to inherit a property that doesn’t belong to him,” Mrs. Bennet said.

Elizabeth didn’t bother pointing out that whatever anyone inherited hadn’t belonged to them. She had tried to explain the nature of the entail to her mother before. She saw no reason to repeat it now. Instead, she changed the topic to the first thing that came to her mind. “It was very kind of Mr. Darcy to bring me, Charlotte and Maria back.”

That caused a rambling list of Mr. Darcy’s failings in the eyes of her mother and younger sisters. Elizabeth found few she agreed with, but let them speak. She was too worried about her father to pay them much heed. It wasn’t until after dinner that she had a chance to speak with him.

He asked her to come into the library, leading the way there as her mother and sisters returned to the parlor. As shocked as Elizabeth was to see her father looking unhealthy, the library shocked her more. Nearly all the books were gone. She stood in the middle of the room, flummoxed, while he crossed to seat himself behind the desk.

“Why?” She felt no need to elaborate.

“Sit down,” Mr. Bennet said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Elizabeth sat, the lack of books leaving her thoughts as she took in his haggard expression. “What is it, Papa?”

“I am dying.” She started to protest, but he put up a hand. “The doctor isn’t sure what it is, but I am in constant pain and it’s getting worse. I’ve never saved enough money for you and your sisters. Some of it went into books. Mr. Gardiner is selling them in London. He will keep the money. When I die, it will be used to add to Mrs. Bennet’s capital and thus her income.”

“When you die?” Elizabeth whispered, a strange numbness enveloping her.

“It may not be for some weeks. I may have months, but I’m pretty certain I don’t have years.”

If he had written this to her, she wouldn’t have believed him. She didn’t want to believe him now, but seeing him, with lines of pain on his face that had never been there before, she had the dreadful feeling it was true. “Who knows?” she asked, her voice little more than a murmur, as if giving volume to the words would make them more real.

Her father ran a hand over his pale, haggard face. “The Gardiners. They haven’t told Jane or she would find a way to come here. Mr. Phillips knows, but he hasn’t told Mrs. Phillips. My doctor knows, and now you.”

Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath. She was glad her uncles knew. She understood letting Mrs. Gardiner know but not Mrs. Phillips, who would undoubtedly let the whole neighborhood know. A small part of her whispered that, if no one else found out, it would turn out not to be true. Her father would recover and they would laugh, putting it all behind them. They would return to a closeness of shared talks about books . . . though the books were gone . . . they exchanging exasperated looks when her mother procured extravagances . . . they would . . .

Elizabeth shook her head, feeling as if her thoughts moved through honey. “My sisters told me you aren’t allowing Mama to entertain,” she said, realizing she should have thought more of their news.

He let out a long sigh. “Every pound saved means a shilling of income if the money is properly invested. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Phillips both know how to do that. They are joint executors of my will.”

She stared at him for a long moment. She wanted to deny his words. She wanted to run from the room. Most of all, she didn’t want it to be true. “Mama must have guessed something is wrong.”

“She thinks I’m malingering. Let her have her illusions. I can cope with them better than having her berate me for not leaving her enough money. Help me in this.”

She agreed. What else could she do?

***

The next few weeks were difficult for Elizabeth. Her father slept a lot. When she’d been home nearly a month, he started taking laudanum. The part of her that still clung to the belief he would recover wilted and died the day she found the small bottle of sticky dark liquid at his bedside. Her father hated laudanum. He’d always said it was addictive. She realized he didn’t care anymore.

The neighborhood was abuzz with the news Charlotte was with child. Before word got out, she’d come to tell Elizabeth over tea. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she was happy for her friend. A child was always a blessing, but having no living father for a child was difficult for a woman.

It was all Elizabeth could do to muster cheer for Charlotte when she heard the news. Elizabeth knew it was partially her father’s state that made her so grim. At least she now knew what secret her friend had been keeping from her, and the source of Charlotte’s ill health.

The news came that Colonel Forster’s regiment would be leaving for Brighton. Lydia was invited by Mrs. Forster to go with them, as her particular friend. Kitty was jealous, but that wasn’t surprising. Both Mrs. Bennet and Lydia were unhappy when Mr. Bennet’s permission hinged on limiting the amount of money given to Lydia, but otherwise pleased he encouraged her to go.

Elizabeth felt letting Lydia leave was a poor use of funds. She also didn’t trust her youngest sister’s behavior in the slightest. Yet, she didn’t argue with him. She did her best not to permit anything to tax her father, and couldn’t imagine how troublesome her mother and Lydia would be to him should he refuse the invitation.

The night before the regiment, Mrs. Forster and Lydia were to leave, there was a farewell party for the departing officers. Elizabeth was in no mood for a party, but her father insisted she act as if nothing was seriously wrong with him. She went, along with Mary, Kitty and Lydia, trying to hide her miserable mood. When they arrived, she took a small plate from the buffet and sat in a corner by herself.

A shadow fell over her. She looked up, finding Mr. Wickham. She’d been able to avoid him before, but now he blocked any escape. She hadn’t thought of that, when she’d hidden in the corner.

He bowed. “Miss Bennet, it’s lovely to see you.”

“Mr. Wickham,” she said, nodding. She didn’t stand, hoping he would wander away.

Instead, he sat down beside her. “I understand you were at Rosings and that Mr. Darcy returned you to Hertfordshire.”

“Yes,” she replied. Maybe if she spoke little he would leave.

“I suspect it was an uncomfortable ride, the fifty miles you had to cover.”

“His carriage was one of the most comfortable ones I have ever ridden in,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him.

“I meant because he probably said so little to you.”

“He spoke enough. He was very solicitous of Mrs. Collins,” she said, wondering what Mr. Wickham wanted from her.

“Perhaps he was doing it at Lady Catherine’s bidding. He’s always respected his aunt,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Perhaps.” Considering Lady Catherine never offered condolences, in person or even writing, Elizabeth doubted she’d ordered Mr. Darcy to do anything for Charlotte. She actually had the impression he was angry with his aunt.

“He must have had some reason. I find it inconceivable he’s trying to be a better person.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Mr. Darcy, for all his faults, was an infinitely better person than Mr. Wickham. She found her present companion’s derision grating. Who was Mr. Wickham to judge the behavior of a worthy man? “He was very kind to Mrs. Collins,” she repeated.

“He is sometimes kind to a person if they are right before him. I suppose, in his mind, it makes up for his ruthlessness.”

“Ruthlessness?” Elizabeth snapped her mouth closed, but not quickly enough to keep the word from escaping. She recognized Wickham’s game. He was baiting her into a conversation where he could make false claims against Mr. Darcy.

“He has a mill at Pemberley with children working in it. Men can work there, but earn little more than the children. I can’t imagine how horrible that would be for a man. Darcy’s father would turn in his grave if he knew.” With that, Mr. Wickham stood up and sauntered away.

Elizabeth was frozen in shock. She was glad no one approached her for some time. She was aware her outlook of late had been dire, colored by her father’s decline. She also knew Mr. Wickham hid lies in a layer of truth. Still, how could any truth about a mill that employed children turn out to be acceptable? She sighed. She was just beginning to think well of Mr. Darcy, and then this.

Chapter Six

You’ve come to drive us from our home

Her father’s health continued to deteriorate imperceptibly. It was only by remembering what his condition was more than a week ago that Elizabeth could see the downhill slide. Mrs. Bennet constantly protested his refusal to allow entertainment and the monetary restrictions, but past hospitality kept invitations coming. Jane didn’t exactly complain about being kept in London, but her letters indicated she was puzzled by it.

Elizabeth found her father seemed best early in the morning and made a point of spending time with him each day. They never broached the subject of his health, but she was glad they could talk, even if it was just about an article in the newspaper. She did all she could to deflect her mother and younger sisters away from him, seeing how they taxed what little strength he had left.

She attended the parties her mother took her to and was available to visitors, but with her father spending much of his time sleeping and Jane still in London, Elizabeth’s most enjoyable companion was Charlotte. Elizabeth spent much of her free time at Lucas Lodge, sometimes helping Charlotte with her duties. Together, they started sewing some articles for the baby, though nothing that couldn’t be repurposed. It was ill luck to do too much too soon.

It was early July before Mr. Bennet’s health was too poor to be ignored. Mrs. Bennet finally recognized her husband was dying. She spent her days wailing and moaning, setting the whole house on edge and offering a final torment to her husband. The Gardiners brought Jane from London. Two days later, Elizabeth’s father was dead.

The day after the funeral, the family gathered in the dining room later than was acceptable for condolence calls. Lydia was still in Brighton as a guest of Colonel and Mrs. Forster. It wouldn’t have been easy for her to return, but it was possible. Elizabeth wrote her the evening Mr. Bennet died. Mrs. Forster wrote Mrs. Bennet a prompt condolence letter and said that Lydia would be a welcome guest for at least another month.

Mrs. Bennet sat at the head of the table weeping noisily, flanked by Mrs. Phillips and Jane. Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty sat along the side Jane was on, the four of them filling all but one of the chairs arrayed on that side. Mr. Gardiner was opposite Elizabeth’s mother, with his wife to his right. Mr. Phillips occupied the center seat in the five across from Elizabeth and her sisters.

“We might as well let her stay,” Mr. Gardiner said about Lydia. “There isn’t a home for her to come to.”

“I don’t see why,” Mrs. Bennet said, her voice bitter. “Charlotte might have a daughter or, God willing, miscarry.”

“Mama,” Elizabeth snapped.

“It would be for the best. That woman, who you are so low as to socialize with, Lizzy, shall throw us from our home. When I think--”

“Mrs. Collins wrote her husband’s brother,” Mr. Phillips said in a loud voice, cutting off Elizabeth’s mother. “He wrote back that he will come. He should be arriving soon. She invited him here, and should join us shortly herself. I informed her of this meeting.”

“Mr. Collins may arrive?” Mr. Gardiner asked. “You aren’t sure?”

“He has a living up north somewhere, and he must arrange for someone to cover the services during his absence,” Mr. Phillips said. “Mrs. Collins wasn’t certain he would arrive here in time for this meeting. If he does not, I shall ask Mr. Gardiner to represent his interests. Mrs. Collins assures me Mr. Collins understands he may not inherit.”

“Well, I shall pray he falls victim to bandits on his way south, or succumbs to typhus, or--”

“What is the legal situation?” Mr. Gardiner asked Mr. Phillips, speaking over Elizabeth’s mother.

“There are trustees. I wrote one of them the day Mr. Bennet died.” He looked about the table. “In truth, Longbourn really isn’t our problem. Our problem is to decide how Mrs. Bennet and her daughters will live.”

“I don’t see why we can’t live here,” Mrs. Bennet cried. “There is no Mr. Collins here yet. There is no baby. There’s every chance neither will appear. I pray for it every moment.”

They all looked about at each other, no one speaking. Elizabeth realized her family had given up on trying to make her mother understand the situation. For her part, she was weary after months of assisting her father, numb with the sorrow of losing him, and too worn out from her tears to attempt speaking to her mother.

After a long silence, Jane reached out and took Mrs. Bennet’s hand. “I’m sure no one will object if we stay a few more days, Mama, but legally, we should have left when Papa died.”

“No one would be so cruel,” Mrs. Bennet wailed, reclaiming her hand to press it to her forehead.

Mr. Phillips cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, we should be making arrangements. Pine Cottage is unoccupied and you will be able to afford it.”

“Pine Cottage.” The look Mr. Bennet turned on Mr. Phillips was horrified. “That’s absurd. It’s much too small.”

“You will be able to have two servants,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Mr. Phillips will send his manservant to help you now and then. Jane will live with us in London.”

“And Elizabeth will live with us in Meryton,” Mrs. Phillips said.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She would have preferred London, she would have preferred the Gardiners, but she realized that Jane was granted the best place, both by seniority and by having the sweetest temperament.

Elizabeth sat with her shoulders slumped. She stared down at her hands, resting limply in her lap, very white against her mourning black. Would she have accepted Mr. Darcy’s proposal if she knew then what she did now, and what would happen? No, she thought. Just because she’d misjudged him didn’t mean she would want to marry him. Besides, there was still the issue of the purported mill. She couldn’t marry a man she didn’t know the nature of, even to avoid Pine Cottage with her mother.

They all heard the knocker and turned toward the door. Sir William, Lady Lucas, and Charlotte were ushered in. Charlotte was visibly with child, and her face had a glow to it that made her almost beautiful. Now, however, it was composed into lines of compassion.

“You’ve come to drive us from our home,” Mrs. Bennet sobbed, grabbing Jane’s hand and clutching it to her breast. “You have no right unless Charlotte has a boy.”

“We haven’t come to drive you out,” Sir William said as he helped his wife and daughter into the two vacant chairs on the near side of the table. He walked around to the other side. “We’ve come to discuss the estate, and to invite Elizabeth to stay with us.”

“Why? Do you need another hand in the kitchen?” Mrs. Bennet said.

“She would be like a daughter to us as long as Charlotte wants her,” Lady Lucas said. “We are so grateful to her.”

“Why are you grateful?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

“She saved Charlotte’s life.” Lady Lucas looked from face to face, obviously surprised they didn’t know.

Several people simultaneously expressed surprise, their happier sounds mostly muting Mrs. Bennet’s wail. Everyone except Mrs. Bennet turned to Elizabeth with openly curious expressions. Her mother continued to sob noisily, clutching Jane’s hand. Elizabeth shrugged, shaking her head. She was in no spirit to talk about the night before they found Mr. Collins dead.

“If I may?” Charlotte asked softly, addressing Elizabeth.

“Do as you like. There’s nothing to stop you,” Mrs. Bennet snapped.

Elizabeth nodded as her mother returned to bawling.

Charlotte described what happened with the medicine, going into far greater detail than Elizabeth would have.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jane asked when Charlotte was through. “You should be proud of what you did.”

“Mr. Collins died.” Elizabeth didn’t like Mr. Collins, but he’d been Charlotte’s husband. He was fair and even somewhat solicitous of Elizabeth’s friend. She regretted his death.

“You tried to stop him,” Charlotte said.

The knocker was heard before anyone else could reply. There was silence in the room until Mr. Collins was announced. Everyone stared, Elizabeth right along with them. Here was the man who may very well take possession of their home.

He wasn’t as tall as his older brother, or as heavy. He was handsomer, though only marginally so. The greatest difference was in his demeanor, which was neither brash nor subservient, but pleasant.

“You can’t turn us out,” Mrs. Bennet cried, breaking the silence. “Until Charlotte’s baby is born, we can stay.”

He jerked back a little.

“Mr. Collins, it’s good to see you again,” Charlotte said, standing up.

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins.” Mr. Collins’ gaze took in Charlotte’s obvious state. “Please, don’t stand on my account. I received your letter.” He looked around the room, his eyes stopping briefly on Elizabeth and each of her sisters, in turn. “Thank you for writing me so promptly,” he added, when he got back to Charlotte.

“Please, let me make introductions,” Charlotte said, not sitting.

As Charlotte introduced everyone, Elizabeth returned her gaze to her hands. She didn’t have the energy for this, she realized. She’d used her reserves caring for her father and enduring his death. She could muster almost no concern, in that moment, for Longbourn itself. What was the house without her father?

The men stood as they were introduced. Room was made for Mr. Collins at the table, far from Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth had just enough presence of mind to notice Charlotte ignored protocol and introduced her mother last.

“He can’t stay here,” Mrs. Bennet said as Mr. Collins and the other men were finally seated. She no longer made any pretense at crying.

“Mrs. Bennet.” Mrs. Phillips’ tone was firm. “The only people who have a real right to be here are Mrs. Collins and Mr. Collins. Either one of them can turn you out immediately.” She looked at her husband, who was an attorney, for confirmation. He shrugged, perhaps because it wasn’t that simple.

“We are in the process of making arrangements for Mrs. Bennet and her daughters,” Mr. Gardiner said. “It looks like the eldest will live with us. Elizabeth, are you going to accept the offer from the Lucases?”

“Yes,” she said, looking up. It bore little thinking on. It would be infinitely better to live with Charlotte and the Lucases. Aside from Jane, Charlotte was her closest friend.

“In that case, Mary will stay with us,” Mr. Phillips said.

Mrs. Phillips frowned, but Elizabeth’s uncle either didn’t see it or chose to ignore her. Mary was the next oldest, which made her the logical choice. Elizabeth knew her aunt would rather have Kitty or Lydia, who both enjoyed company more. Elizabeth felt it would be better for Mary to be more in company with her aunt than to let one of her two youngest sisters enjoy such freedom. Not that their mother would be of much use in chaperoning them.

Mr. Gardiner turned to Mrs. Bennet. “That means Pine Cottage won’t be crowded at all. When Lydia returns, she can share the second bedroom with Kitty.”

“I don’t see why I must live at Pine Cottage.” Mrs. Bennet didn’t look at her brother as she spoke. Instead, she leveled an accusatory glare on Mr. Collins. “There are better houses in the neighborhood.”

“Not ones you can afford.” Mr. Phillips’ tone brooked no argument.

Mrs. Bennet started crying again. “He’s turning us out,” she wailed, pointing to Mr. Collins.

“After such a reception, I very well may,” Mr. Collins said. Elizabeth glanced at him, surprised at the steel in his gaze. Yet another way he differed from his older brother.

The knocker was heard again. Mr. Darcy was escorted into the room. Elizabeth noticed everyone stood immediately, her along with them. He bowed to them all. He looked around the room, taking in the full table.

“Permit me, sir,” Mr. Collins said. He stepped into a nearby room. A moment later he returned, looking slightly sheepish. “I couldn’t find another chair.”

“There’s one in the library,” Elizabeth said. She started to move around the table to show him where it was.

Kitty, nearer the end, peeled away from the others and went to him. “It’s this way.” With a gesture, she led him from the room. They returned in moments with the library chair. Elizabeth blinked back tears. How many times had she sat in that chair, opposite her father?

Elizabeth seated herself along with the others, her eyes downcast. Silence descended on the table. She could hear people fidgeting and knew someone should ease the tension, but couldn’t bring to mind any words. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to find Mr. Darcy watching her.

“I’m glad everyone has arrived at the same time,” Charlotte said. “I hope no one is too inconvenienced to be here. Especially you, Mr. Darcy. It is kind of you to act on my behalf. If we’re finished making decisions about where the Bennets will live, I presume now we will address questions of how to handle the entailed estate?”

Mrs. Bennet fell into a mixture of groans and sobs.

Mr. Phillips cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of writing to one of the trusties the day Mr. Bennet died. He replied, saying the parties might make arrangements for the care of the property until Mrs. Collins’ baby is born. If no agreement can be reached, the trustees will step in. The estate will lose money, if that occurs.”

“But, whatever agreement is reached between the interested parties, it is not really our business,” Mr. Gardiner said, looking from Charlotte to Mr. Collins. “However, we would appreciate a couple of days for the Bennets to move out.”

Mrs. Bennet wailed. Everyone studiously ignored her.

“I agree to allowing the Bennets time to move out, if Mr. Darcy approves,” Charlotte said.

“I do,” Mr. Darcy said. He still watched Elizabeth. His expression became oddly apologetic. “I believe a timeline for their moving should be set, however, here and now.”

This elicited a loud wail from Elizabeth’s mother. Jane murmured something soothing to her.

Mr. Collins looked at the weeping Mrs. Bennet. His glance swept the largely black clad people seated at the table. “Four days from now, providing I am welcomed into the household. I require bed and board.”

Charlotte and Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. She wasn’t sure why she must decide, but she nodded. “My father’s room has been cleaned, although all of his possessions haven’t been removed,” she said softly. “I think it would be appropriate if Mr. Collins stay there.”

Her mother’s sobbing was such a constant noise now, it almost faded to the background in Elizabeth’s mind. She hoped Mrs. Bennet didn’t make herself ill. Elizabeth had never known her to carry on for quite so long before. Of course, never before had Elizabeth’s father died and Longbourn been taken from them.

“I don’t want Mrs. Collins’ rights limited,” Mr. Darcy said. “She only agrees to you remaining in Longbourn if you understand that your being here does not mean you have the right to continue to stay, Mr. Collins.”

“I understand,” Mr. Collins said. He offered a slight, rueful grin. “In truth, I don’t have the means to remain in Hertfordshire if I must board myself. I would like to stay until this is sorted, if possible.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, his expression losing some of its usual guarded edge. “I think we are on the right course.” He turned back to Elizabeth. “Is there a place the three of us can talk? I don’t believe it will take us long to reach an agreement.”

“The library,” Elizabeth said. “There are pens and ink in the right-hand drawer of the desk. You’ll want to take two chairs.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, the look he gave her disconcertingly warm. He, Charlotte and Mr. Collins stood. Both men took up the chairs they’d been sitting in.

“I believe I know the way,” Mr. Collins said.

Elizabeth’s mother put her head down on the table, crying.

For once, Elizabeth agreed with her.

Chapter Seven

[H]er mother … used emotions rather than reason to influence those around her.

As he left the dining room, Darcy tried to decipher the expression on Elizabeth’s face. She looked sad, which was to be expected. There was weariness etched on her features, though she was as lovely as ever, even in black. He wouldn’t have imagined anyone could look so beautiful while in mourning.

She also looked perplexed. He longed to read into that look, to hope it meant she was reconsidering her opinion of him. He wouldn’t permit himself to, though. He’d suffered enough heartache over Elizabeth Bennet. More than he’d ever considered himself capable of. It wouldn’t do to dream up reasons he might still have a chance with her. He could remember the tone of her rejection and knew he didn’t. Nor would he sink so low as to ask a second time for a country miss to marry him.

He would, however, take the advice implicit in her directions on how to locate writing materials. Elizabeth was correct, it was a good idea to write down any agreement Mr. and Mrs. Collins came to. As Darcy followed them down the hall, he reviewed what he knew of both, hoping for an amicable discourse.

Darcy had looked into Mr. Collins after leaving Hertfordshire that spring. He was, indeed, the Mr. Collins who lived not far from Pemberley. Though Darcy hadn’t actually met the man, their paths had crossed the year before. Mr. Collins had rendered services to his parishioners, suffering losses of his own in the process. Learning of it, Darcy had done his best to set things right. It didn’t do to have a man of the cloth suffer for behaving nobly.

When they reached the library, Darcy put his chair down and moved to sit behind the desk, assembling the writing materials. Mr. Collins arranged the two chairs they’d brought. He stepped back, bowing, to indicate Mrs. Collins should select a seat. Only when she had done so did Mr. Collins take one. All of this he did without a word, reinforcing how different he was from his older brother.

Darcy folded his hands on the desk, studying the younger Mr. Collins. He was a well-proportioned man. He’d already shown himself to be reasonable and kind. Would he be like his brother in one thing, though? Would he recognize Elizabeth’s unique beauty and wit and ask her to be his wife? Would she dare to refuse him, with her future so uncertain, and him a good man?

She couldn’t dislike the clergyman. He’d only just arrived. He hadn’t had time to offend her, as Darcy had. He also hadn’t contributed to her favorite sister’s unhappiness or belittled her family. The man was well-nigh perfect.

Darcy realized his teeth were clenched hard enough to send pain radiating through his skull. He forced himself to relax. What Elizabeth did or did not do was not his concern. He cleared his throat. “It’s my hope both of you can agree what is needed is to preserve the value of the property and the rights of both parties.”

“I’m not certain how that can be accomplished, but I’m eager to hear suggestions,” Mr. Collins said. “The trouble is, I’m paying a curate to take over my living in my absence. It’s money I can’t really afford to give him, but I felt I had to come in person. I don’t want the estate to be neglected, and if I knew it was going to be mine, I would work to see to the long-term interest of the property.”

“How long will your curate work?” Darcy asked. Mr. Collins made a fair point. He was, in fact, losing money and had no guarantee of compensation, since Mrs. Collins might have a son.

Mr. Collins gave another wry smile. “As long as I’m willing to pay him. He’s maintaining the garden and my chickens and goats, but he’s also eating from that. I’m paying him half of my tithes, proportional to the number of Sundays he preaches.”

“I realize that must be a large investment for you,” Mrs. Collins said. She turned back to Darcy. “I have some notion of what Longbourn is worth, and the income here. I’m sure there’s a fair way to work this out. My greatest concerns are to see Mr. Bennet’s estate run properly in the interim, and, if I may be so blunt, to ensure Mrs. Bennet truly does leave. I hold no ire for her, but she will stay and keep squandering the resources of the estate if she is not handled firmly. No matter who the entail goes to, I’m sure neither of us wishes for that.”

Darcy nodded. He was pleased to realize this would be an easy job. Both of the people seated across from him were aware the outcome could go either way and both seemed willing to compromise. “I propose Mr. Collins stay and supervise the property, with limited staff and without entertaining.”

“Except for uninvited callers,” Mr. Collins said. “Or will I turn them away?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Mrs. Collins offered a smile. “A handful of callers are nothing to concern ourselves over. The farm, however, is. It will yield only a small income from selling milk, eggs, and summer ripening crops, but I don’t believe the baby will arrive until late in October. By then, most of the harvest will be in. How shall we allocate that?

Darcy was once again impressed by Mrs. Collins’ practicality. He could see why Elizabeth valued her as a friend. “I propose the nonperishable crops be sold by whoever inherits, but the income from the perishable items be used to pay for the maintenance of the property.”

Mr. Collins nodded. “That sounds reasonable to me.”

Mrs. Collins’ expression was contemplative. “What if there is more income than required to maintain the property?”

“Whatever is left over could be divided equally between the two of you, regardless of who inherits?” Darcy suggested, curious if they would both agree. Whoever inherited the property would have a reduced total income, but it meant that the loser would benefit as well.

“I feel that is fair,” Mrs. Collins said. “If I have a daughter, it will add to her resources. If I have a son, Mr. Collins will be better compensated for his time spent here.”

Mr. Collins nodded. “I am in agreement with that solution.”

“Good,” Darcy said, nodding. “We can run this by Mr. Phillips, or another attorney if either of you would prefer, but I think that covers all of the contingencies. I’ll note down the details and you can both look it over. Mr. Phillips’ clerk can make official copies.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said.

“Yes, my exact sentiments,” Mr. Collins added.

“I’m pleased to oblige.” Darcy was slightly surprised to realize he meant it.

***

For a long moment after Mr. Darcy, Charlotte and Mr. Collins left, everyone sat in a silence punctuated only by the sobs of Elizabeth’s mother. Elizabeth looked at the strained faces around the table, suppressing a sigh. She knew she should say or do something to alleviate the tension, but couldn’t muster the ability to care.

“I’ll take Mama to her room,” Jane said, standing.

Mary stood as well. “I’ll help.”

“What dear girls you are,” Mrs. Phillips said, smiling up at them as they converged on Elizabeth’s mother.

As Jane and Mary helped Mrs. Bennet from the room, Lady Lucas leaned across the table toward Elizabeth. “May we speak in private, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, certainly we may.” Elizabeth stood, making her way around the table.

“Should I go ask if they need anything in the library?” Kitty looked about as she spoke, as if unsure who to address the question to.

“I wouldn’t yet,” Mrs. Gardiner said, though she smiled at Kitty. “Why don’t you tell me how Lydia is?”

Lady Lucas following her, Elizabeth led the way to the front parlor, her aunt’s and Kitty’s voices fading behind them. They seated themselves, the room feeling odd and empty to Elizabeth, as if their family had already departed. Her eyes slid across the furnishings and ornaments, some new but most worn. She wondered what was theirs to take, and what would remain. Most of the furniture would remain, of course, but neither Charlotte or Mr. Collins could have much use for her mother’s bits and pieces.

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable with the arrangement, dear,” Lady Lucas said. “We’re unendingly grateful you saved Charlotte, and our first grandchild, but we are taking on two more mouths by having Charlotte back and you, and perhaps a third if the baby is a girl.”

“I know, Lady Lucas, and I am very sensible of that. Thank you again for having me.” Elizabeth endeavored a smile, but wasn’t sure how her sorrow rendered the attempt.

“As Charlotte, Maria and Susan do, you’ll be expected to take on some small chores. Nothing too onerous, of course. You’ll have time to pursue your accomplishments. You can have every hope of still making a good match for yourself someday. And, of course, we’ll give you a small allowance. We owe you that.”

“Thank you, Lady Lucas. That is very kind of you,” Elizabeth said. She didn’t mind chores in the slightest. She didn’t feel she deserved the praise they heaped on her. If she’d been quicker or more forceful, she could have kept Mr. Collins from dying, and Charlotte and her baby would be happily ensconced in their own home, not dependent on the charity of Charlotte’s family once more. The Lucases were very kind. Elizabeth resolved to make herself as useful as possible, to thank them for taking her in.

Lady Lucas reached over and patted Elizabeth’s hand. “We want you to feel at home with us, Elizabeth. As a sister to our children. We won’t make a servant of you, or leave you without any pin money.”

Elizabeth nodded, still trying to maintain her watery smile. She wondered if she imagined the slight emphasis Lady Lucas put on the word sister. Elizabeth already felt nearly a sister to Charlotte. She was sure she would grow closer with Maria and Susan too. “Thank you.”

Lady Lucas smiled. “I was very sorry about your father, dear. He was a wonderful man.”

Elizabeth could only nod and sit quietly as Lady Lucas proceeded to reminisce about her father. Elizabeth knew it was right to do so. It honored those who left them to recall them with love, and her father was in a better place now. Still, the loss was too fresh for her. It was all she could do, as the minutes wore on, to maintain a polite look and murmur appropriate syllables.

“Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins and Charlotte are back.”

With relief, Elizabeth looked over to see Kitty standing in the doorway, though her sister’s face was turned away, toward the dining room.

“Well, let’s go see what decisions they’ve arrived at, shall we?” Lady Lucas said, standing.

Elizabeth followed her and Kitty down the hall to the dining room, where they were informed that Charlotte, Mr. Collins, and Mr. Darcy had formed an agreement. Retaking her seat, Elizabeth noted everyone else had returned as well, save her mother. Elizabeth’s Uncle Phillips had a page before him, which he was reading carefully. She recognized the strong, clear penmanship as Mr. Darcy’s.

“This seems equitable to me,” Mr. Phillips said, looking up. He turned to Elizabeth and her sisters, arrayed along one side of the table. “It is agreed that Mr. Collins shall have your father’s room.”

Elizabeth looked over to Mr. Collins, who appeared nervous, perhaps even abashed. He met her look and shrugged slightly. She dropped her eyes, unsure how to respond. She’d suggested the room, and it was the only place to put him, but the idea troubled her.

“Someone will have to tell your mother,” Mr. Phillips said.

“I will,” Elizabeth said. As the least well-liked daughter, she may as well. She already knew what her mother would say, but was still not regretful. Even with all that had come to pass, Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to wish she’d accepted the late Mr. Collins’ offer of marriage.

She did wish, though, that her mother could be made more reasonable. Elizabeth lifted her eyes to the silent assemblage once more, taking in faces ranging from sorrowful to firm. She felt sorry for her mother, who used emotions rather than reason to influence those around her. Her emotions had no power over those who now controlled Longbourn.

Chapter Eight

…sometimes it was difficult to like the truth.

The following morning was, if possible, more difficult for Elizabeth than the evening before. She and Jane went through all their possessions, deciding what would be kept, what must stay and what was no longer needed. When they were finished, Jane went to assist their Aunt Gardiner, who was helping their mother take on the same task.

Elizabeth, pleased not to be called into her mother’s presence after the fit she’d endured the evening before, went to help Kitty, who had to pack not only her own possessions, but Lydia’s as well. Elizabeth entered the room to find her younger sister crying, but working in spite of her tears. With much of Lydia’s clothing in Brighton and the rest of her things going no farther than the village, it didn’t take long to pack for her. Leaving Kitty with a parting hug, Elizabeth went to check on Mary. She found her middle sister standing in a very empty seeming room.

“I’m done,” Mary said. She proffered a stack of pages. “Would you care for my sheet music?”

“Because the Phillips don’t have a pianoforte?” Elizabeth asked, accepting the pages. The Lucases did, but didn’t have anyone in their house who played.

Mary looked around the bare room, a sigh escaping her. “Partly.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “You and Jane shared a room here. Kitty and Lydia shared another. I had this one to myself.”

Elizabeth frowned, uncertain of Mary’s point. “Which I daresay was more pleasant than sharing with Kitty or Lydia.”

Mary shrugged. “I didn’t fit in here.” Her voice was soft. “I realize I was Aunt and Uncle Phillips’ second, or maybe even third, choice. I plan to try to fit in there.”

A fresh wave of sorrow washed over Elizabeth. “I’m sorry.” How much had she been responsible for Mary’s not fitting in? She didn’t torment Mary as Kitty and Lydia did, but Elizabeth had never reached out to her next youngest sister either, being happy with her father and Jane as her dearest companions. “I’ll take the sheet music and think of you when I play it.”

Mary looked up, her face expressionless. “I would like that.”

Elizabeth gave her a quick hug, being careful not to wrinkle the music, and hurried back to her room. She didn’t like thinking she’d been too self-absorbed to be a good sister to Mary. Of course, sometimes it was difficult to like the truth.

After packing the music, Elizabeth went downstairs. Without realizing it, she found herself at the library door, where she’d always gone when troubled. She rested her forehead against it, unsure if she wished to go in. She wouldn’t find words of wisdom there, or even exasperation or amusement. Only a room empty of her father and his books.

Wiping away tears that had become an inevitable addition to her cheeks since her father’s death, she pushed the door open. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes, she would be able to imagine he was still there. Elizabeth stepped inside, conjuring the memory of her father.

“Mr. Collins,” she exclaimed, startled to see him sitting at the desk.

“Miss, uh, Elizabeth,” he said, gesturing toward the ledger. “I was just looking over your father’s books.”

For the first time, she realized he looked somewhat like her father. He was much trimmer, and younger, but his features were similar, as was the kindness in his eyes. His face looked like he smiled often, though she hadn’t known him to do so much at Longbourn. She wondered if her father had the same air of easy affability, once, before life added an edge of cynicism to his humor.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot the room might be occupied. I shouldn’t have intruded.”

“No, it is I who am sorry. I should have left the door open. It must be upsetting to find me here.”

“You have every right to be here,” she managed, startled by his understanding.

“Not according to your mother.” He added a droll smile to his words.

It was Elizabeth’s turn to sympathize. She hadn’t been able to make out the words, but she’d heard her mother’s aggravated tones when the two had met in the hall earlier in the day. “My mother isn’t always reasonable in the best of times.”

He shrugged. “I take your point. This is anything but the best of times.” He leaned forward, his face serious. “You and your sisters have my deepest sympathy. Your mother as well, of course. I understand it’s very difficult to lose a father.”

“Yet we all must, I suppose,” Elizabeth said, offering a shrug of her own. She appreciated his words, and his kind eyes, but she was tired of people’s sympathies. They did little more than open fresh sorrow.

He looked away, leaning back, and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Perhaps you can help me,” he said abruptly. “I’m having trouble reading your father’s handwriting.” He pointed to the ledger.

She crossed the room, leaning down to examine the entry. It was written clearly, for her father. Elizabeth wondered if he truly couldn’t read it, or had seen her feelings and elected to change the subject. If so, she was happy to go along. “The barley is doing well in the rock field despite it not having rained in a fortnight,” she read.

“The rock field?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

His eyes were a rather pleasant shade of green, Elizabeth noted, straightening from peering at the ledger. “It has a big rock in it. Too big to move.”

“So, all I have to do is find the field with the big rock,” he said with a smile.

Elizabeth answered with a smile of her own, her first real one in days. “It could never be that simple.”

“No?” he asked, his green eyes alight with amusement. “Why am I not surprised?”

“The rock has been there for ages. For longer than the field, I imagine. When I was small, my father tried to move it. He brought horses and ropes, and they dug down, looking for the widest point to tie the ropes around.” Elizabeth knew the story well. She could all but hear her father’s amused voice as he told it. “The farther the men dug, the bigger the rock became, until it was as large as a table and only growing. Unwilling to be defeated, my father had them take picks to it. They chipped away the top and covered it with dirt. I think the rock is at least a foot and a half underground. They plant over it, but the crops on top of it are always stunted. I can show you where it is.”

To her surprise, Mr. Collins stood. “I should like nothing better.”

“Now?” Elizabeth asked.

His expression turned sheepish. “It’s that or keep hiding in here. I’m terribly afraid of your mother.”

Mr. Collins’ look was so expressive of mock fear, Elizabeth was nearly moved to laugh. “Well, we can’t have you closeted here the entire day.”

“Mr. Collins, I was--” Kitty broke off as she saw the two of them standing across the desk from each other. She frowned. “Elizabeth. Why are you in here?”

“Your sister has agreed to show me where the rock field is,” Mr. Collins said with an affable smile.

“I know where it is.” Kitty’s tone was oddly aggrieved.

“Perhaps you would care to accompany us, Miss Kitty?” Mr. Collins asked.

“May I?” Kitty asked, looking at Elizabeth.

“I can’t imagine why not. I’m sure fresh air will do us all good,” Elizabeth replied, unsure why her normally impertinent sister was asking her permission. She turned back to Mr. Collins. “We’ll get our hats and meet you in the foyer.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said with another smile.

***

The Lucases insisted Darcy stay with them. He was pleased to accept. He could have gone to the inn in Meryton, but his servants’ investigation of it informed him he wouldn’t care for the establishment. At Netherfield, Darcy would have enjoyed greater comfort than could be had at Lucas Lodge. He knew Bingley’s servants would let him reside there, but it seemed wrong to take advantage of that.

Darcy also admitted to himself that he didn’t want Bingley’s servants to report he was spending time in Hertfordshire, as he’d been party to insisting they leave the area. If Darcy went to Netherfield, Bingley’s servants would be obliged to inform him. As it was, Darcy had no means of preventing them from passing along the information. He doubted local gossip was part of any typical correspondence with their master, though.

Settling into his loaned room, Darcy took in the rather austere surroundings and assured himself he was not, of course, residing in Lucas Lodge because of the proximity to Elizabeth. That would be foolhardy indeed.

When Darcy joined the family for breakfast the first morning of his stay, he was surprised to find the table less crowded than he’d expected. Thinking back, he couldn’t recall exactly how many children the Lucases had, but he felt there were fewer now. He greeted Sir William and Lady Lucas, as well as Mrs. Collins and Miss Maria Lucas. He was reintroduced to the eldest son, John Lucas, and two youngsters named Susan and Arthur.

Darcy seated himself. Curious, but aware sometimes seats were empty due to tragedy, he said, “I thought you had more children living at Lucas Lodge.

Lady Lucas shook her head. “Not today. Our other two grown sons, whom you may recall. Benjamin and Frank, are in London. They’ve both decided to go into business. Benjamin is with Sir William’s former partner and Frank is with my brother.”

“What brought that on?” Darcy asked, endeavoring to politely carry his end of the conversation. It was the least he could do given their hospitality and, perhaps, Mrs. Collins would mention his good manners to Elizabeth. He longed to have her know she was wrong about him being excessively snobbish.

“After Charlotte married, the boys asked if her leaving meant there would be more for each of them,” Lady Lucas said.

Beside Darcy, Sir William shook his head, whether at his wife’s words or his sons’ hopes, Darcy didn’t know.

“Sadly, there really isn’t,” Lady Lucas continued. “With seven children, there really can’t be more, especially if John is to have enough money to keep Lucas Lodge. That leaves only Maria, Susan, and Arthur for us to provide for.”

“It was generous of you to offer to take in Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said. He hadn’t realized how generous until then.

“It’s the least we can do, what with her saving our Charlotte.” Sir William smiled at his daughter before reapplying himself to his plate.

“I’m sure it won’t be much of a strain on us,” Lady Lucas said. “She’s pretty enough so I expect her to marry in a year or two, at most. So many suitors were put off by her family, but we won’t frighten them away.”

“Hush, dear,” Sir William said. “That’s unkind to our old friends.”

“Unkind, but true,” Mr. Lucas said. “No man in his right mind could meet her mother and still wish to wed her.”

Darcy should have felt vindicated by Mr. Lucas’ statement. Instead, he found himself eyeing the younger man with mild suspicion. Did Lucas mean himself? He wasn’t ill put together, and he would inherit Lucas Lodge, a place which must be dear to Elizabeth. Once she was under his family’s roof, would the deterrent of her mother still apply?

“Elizabeth and her sister Jane are delightful people,” Mrs. Collins said. “They will both marry well.” A smile flittered across her face. “It was difficult to miss the look on Mr. Collins’ face as he took in Jane, Elizabeth and Kitty seated at the table yesterday. A man couldn’t ask for a more appealing selection.”

Darcy noticed she left Miss Mary Bennet out of her list, though she’d been at the table as well.

“If their mother didn’t scare him off,” Mr. Lucas said.

“John.” Sir William’s tone was quelling, effectively ending that line of conversation.

Darcy let his manners lapse, his thoughts drifting to Elizabeth. Even now, she was in the same house as the man who might inherit Longbourn. She must already realize, as he now did, that her situation wasn’t as stable as he’d hoped. The Lucases could easily decide they had enough of Elizabeth after a while. Part of him whispered that it served her right. She had the opportunity for financial stability, but she threw it away.

Somehow, he couldn’t take satisfaction in that.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said. “If I may impose on you, would you be willing to visit Longbourn after breakfast? I want to make sure Mrs. Bennet isn’t giving Mr. Collins too much trouble, or refusing to leave. I have the suspicion you’ll get a more favorable reception than I would.”

“Of course,” he said, trying not to sound as eager as the request made him feel. He took a sip of coffee, wondering how he could remove the longing to see Elizabeth that sprang up in him.

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you to act on my behalf.”

Darcy nodded. “I’m here to do so.”

That decided, it was all Darcy could do to remain at the table a polite length of time. As soon as he was free, they set out for Longbourn. It was a fine day, though a touch warm, but Darcy had little mind for the weather.

Chapter Nine

There’s little sense in passing judgement on oneself.

Darcy was halfway to Longbourn when he spotted Mr. Collins looking out over a field of turnips. On either side of him stood Elizabeth and Miss Kitty. They didn’t see him approaching, seeming quite engaged in their conversation. Darcy tried to tamp down his resentment over the easy manner Elizabeth appeared to have with her cousin.

“. . . previous year there was barley and next year will be wheat,” Elizabeth was saying as Darcy drew near. “It’s turnips this year, but won’t be again for four more. Instead, they’ll be planted in the second field we saw.”

“The Norfolk four-course system,” Darcy said.

The three of them turned around, all looking slightly surprised.

Darcy bowed. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Not at all.” Mr. Collins offered an amiable smile.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth greeted, her expression unreadable.

“Hullo Mr. Darcy,” Miss Kitty said, smiling.

Darcy nodded to both.

“You know this Norfolk system, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins asked.

“We employ it on some of the farms.”

“I’m dismally ignorant about farming. I’m lucky the Miss Bennets are so well informed, and amiable to enlightening me.” Mr. Collins’ smile was rueful. “I can barely milk a cow.”

“You got some practice last year,” Darcy said, recalling that was one of the charitable tasks Mr. Collins had engaged in for his parishioners.

“I did it badly.” Mr. Collins offered a self-deprecating grimace.

“I believe I heard something to that effect.” Darcy kept is tone light, though he was almost angered by how likeable Collins was, and how Elizabeth was looking at the man with interest.

“I didn’t think you realized who I was,” Mr. Collins said, the statement nearly a question.

“I saw no reason to mention it.”

“How do you know him?” Miss Kitty asked.

“Mr. Collins has a living in East Lambton,” Darcy explained. “It’s a very small town, not far from Pemberley. Some of his charitable works came to my attention.”

“Really, it’s not much of a tale,” Mr. Collins cut in. “I’d much rather learn more about this Norwich farming system.”

“Norfolk,” Elizabeth and Miss Kitty corrected in unison.

“What charitable works did Mr. Collins do, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Kitty pressed, watching Mr. Collins.

Darcy took in Mr. Collins’ discomfiture, and the budding adoration in Miss Kitty’s look. It was enjoyable to be able to speak of someone behaving well, he realized. Especially someone who didn’t seek or want praise, and who Miss Kitty appeared to care for more than Elizabeth did. “A family fell ill. First a child, then the mother and then the father. Mr. Collins went to their farm every day, milked the cows and took care of their other livestock. Then he came down with it.”

“I recovered,” Mr. Collins said, unnecessarily, still looking embarrassed.

“But he spent so much time helping them, he hadn’t planted his own garden. Then it rained a good deal. The parsonage has a reasonable amount of land with it, but the ground is both hilly and rocky. He’d spent a lot of the winter using the rocks to terrace some of the ground. It would have been a shame to see that forethought and his charity both go unrewarded.” Darcy stopped, suddenly a bit embarrassed himself.

“In what way was he rewarded?” Elizabeth prodded as silence drew out, her assessing eyes on Darcy.

“Equitably,” Darcy replied, hoping that would be an end to the conversation.

As if sensing it was Darcy’s turn to suffer for his good deeds, Mr. Collins grinned. “Mr. Darcy sent out a crew of men to finish the terracing and plant the garden. I was, and remain, exceedingly grateful for his help.”

Darcy shrugged. “You wrote a very nice letter thanking me.”

“I suppose the family was grateful too,” Miss Kitty said, gazing at Mr. Collins.

His smile turned into a wince. “Somewhat. The man complained I didn’t milk the cows enough, which meant they didn’t give as much milk when I was done.”

“It was still very good of you,” Elizabeth said.

Mr. Collins looked embarrassed again. He gestured to Darcy. “Mr. Darcy did something extra for me. His men came out the next day and planted four apple trees. One has two apples on it.”

Collins’ ploy to put the sisters’ attention back to Darcy only partially worked. Elizabeth did turn to him. Her thoughtful expression was oddly warming to Darcy.

Miss Kitty still watched Collins. “You’re lucky. It usually takes a couple of years to get apples. It must be your reward for being so kind to that ungrateful farmer. If you were kind to me, I should never be so rude about it.”

Looking uncomfortable, Collins turned back to the field of turnips. “You were showing me the fields. I already forgot the name of this one.”

“That one is North Field,” Miss Kitty said, also turning.

Mr. Collins glanced around at the sun and shadows. “But Rock Field is farther north than North Field.”

“Rock Field was purchased later. Come, I’ll show you where the old property line was, so you can see why the south and north fields have their names.”

With a gesture, Miss Kitty set off along a narrow strip of grass beside a low rock wall that separated two fields. Mr. Collins followed obediently. Instead of joining them, Elizabeth turned to Darcy.

“It’s nice of you to help Mr. Collins,” Darcy said.

Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners. “I was about to say it was nice of you to help Mr. Collins.”

“He seems to inspire helpfulness, doesn’t he?” Darcy gestured toward Miss Kitty and Collins.

Elizabeth shrugged, not turning. “Yes, but our help doesn’t cost us anything.”

“As I said, I didn’t think it would be right for him to be punished for a good deed.” He refrained from adding that the expense had meant little to him. She would take that as bragging.

She nodded, looking as if she would turn away. Darcy didn’t want to rejoin the others. He wanted Elizabeth to himself, even knowing nothing could come of it. “Where is Pine Cottage.”

Elizabeth turned, pointing. “Over that hill. You can’t see it from here.”

“Dare I ask if it’s recognizable because it has pines in front of it?”

“Oh, no. It was named after a Mr. Pine.”

“Really?”

“No,” she said with a touch of mischief in her voice. “There are no pines, though. Not anymore, at any rate. The last one was struck by lightning a few years back. It was a huge tree, towering over everything around it.”

They lapsed into silence while he sought something else to say. She started to turn, as if to rejoin her sister and Mr. Collins, who were increasingly small splashes of color in the distance.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your father,” he said. He forced his face to be expressionless, not wanting her to mistake the meaning of his ire. It was for his own lack of polish.

“Thank you.” She looked down, all joy leaving her.

Darcy pressed his lips into a thin line. He wished he knew how to express the depth of his unhappiness on her behalf. His sorrow was both for the loss of the father she clearly loved, as well as for the loss of financial security. Seeing her standing there, downcast, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her.

He shook his head. That would never happen.

Elizabeth let out a little sigh. “Since we’re speaking on unhappy subjects, I feel it is right for me to apologize for believing the lies Mr. Wickham told. I’m embarrassed to say it, but I was fooled by his pleasant manner into believing he was an honorable man. In doing so, I decided you were not. I’m sorry to have misjudged you.”

“I’m sorry you did as well.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“That is, rather, thank you for your apology,” he amended, though he could tell by her expression he’d blundered again. “It is accepted.”

“It wouldn’t have been needed if you had explained the nature of your relationship with him, instead of simply glowering all of the time,” she said, sounding annoyed.

“I’ve never felt the need to explain myself. I was taught, and believe, that actions declare a man’s worth more truly than appearances.”

“But unless people know of your actions, they judge by appearances.”

“They shouldn’t,” Darcy said.

“Oh?” Her tone was crisp. “How do you judge people you know nothing of, Mr. Darcy? Say, an assembly of people you’ve just met, in a town you’ve never been to before?”

Darcy remained silent, thinking that over. How had he judged the people of Hertfordshire that first night? By what he supposed about them based on where they lived and how fine their attire was. What was that if not appearance?

“I am not outright condemning it.” Elizabeth’s tone had softened. “People judge by what information they have.”

“Appearances?”

“Yes, appearances. It’s what they have.” She leaned nearer, her expression earnest. “It’s reasonable, and acceptable. What is neither of those things is later failing to amend an opinion when new information is at hand but, as I said, that information must be provided.”

“Even if we are told, ‘But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth?’” Darcy quoted.

She smiled slightly. “Is that what you do, Mr. Darcy? Good deeds in secret?”

“Not in secret,” he mused, not entirely sure himself why he was so uncomfortable with praise for good deeds. “I simply don’t care to bandy them about.”

“Like what you did for Charlotte.” Elizabeth’s look was thoughtful. “How many people know about that?”

“Quite a few.” Worried she might misunderstand what he meant, he continued. “You know, as does Miss Lucas. The servants at the rectory know. I told Lady Catherine, my cousin Anne, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. That probably means most of the servants at Rosings know. I wrote my attorney asking what legal repercussions there might be for me. Because I wanted to act before I received a reply, I also consulted an attorney in Kent. I told my valet and coachman, and they probably told my other servants. Mrs. Collins let her family know. I did not follow the Biblical injunction. Besides, I did very little.”

“Little to you, perhaps, but not little to Charlotte.” Elizabeth’s smile was warm. “You could have washed your hands of the matter after returning her to her family. Instead, you came here and negotiated with Mr. Collins.”

Darcy didn’t care to speak about his good deeds in general, and his motivation for taking any excuse to visit Hertfordshire in particular. He turned in the direction she’d pointed earlier. “Will you show me Pine Cottage?”

She glanced over her shoulder, where Miss Kitty and Mr. Collins could hardly be seen, before turning back to regard him with suspicious eyes. Finally, with a slight shrug, Elizabeth nodded. “Of course.”

They set off walking. Darcy was pleased they cut away from the fields, the narrow borders of which would necessitate walking in single file. He preferred to walk beside Elizabeth, where he could speak to her and take in glimpses of her face.

“How did your father handle charity?” he asked, not wanting to seem to avoid the topic altogether. He worried she thought him cowardly for changing the subject a moment ago.

“He had a few charities he gave to regularly and he helped some local families who needed assistance. He also gave each of us a small amount of money to give away.” A sad smile played across her lips. “Lydia spent her money on herself once. She found her allowance decreased by double the amount, no matter how much Mama cried on her behalf. Afterward, Lydia simply gave to whoever was in need who was the least trouble.”

“What about the rest of you?” Darcy asked, filled with the need to know if Elizabeth’s sensibilities on the matter coincided with his.

“Jane was too easily moved by tragedy. Tragedy isn’t always the same as need, I believe. Mary would give to any poor family if they would listen to her read a sermon. Kitty tried to do what was right, but was perhaps a little too naïve about who deserved it.”

“And you?”

“I saved mine up, sometimes for months, and would try to give to someone I thought deserved it. For example, a tenant farmer sprained his ankle, and I gave him enough money to hire someone to do his work while he stayed off his leg. I’ve heard of cases where sprained ankles don’t heal.”

“That seems very reasonable,” he said, feeling an odd lightness in his heart at how sensible, thoughtful and intelligent she was.

“I like to think so, but there’s little sense in passing judgement on oneself,” she said, coming to a stop. “That is Pine Cottage.”

Darcy realized he’d been giving their route only passing attention. Drawing his gaze from Elizabeth’s face, he turned to find a small, neat building. Quaint, Darcy would say, if the word didn’t sound like an insult to him.

Together, they followed a servant carrying a trunk inside. Elizabeth gave him a short tour of the cottage. It was a big step down from a house that easily seated twelve at dinner, and that when the table wasn’t expanded. The dining table at Pine Cottage seated a crowded six. With Mrs. Bennet and five daughters, it would have been over-full, but livable. With only two daughters, it was reasonable though, somehow, he doubted the lady of the house would ever concede that.

He saw the sorrow on Elizabeth’s face as she took him around the more public rooms of the house. He wondered if it was all for her father or if some was for her mother and sisters. Or, though the thought gave him no comfort, was it for her circumstances?

Chapter Ten

Do you want to spend all of your life wondering if you would have won her and regretting you didn’t try?

The afternoon of the following day, Elizabeth moved into Lucas Lodge. She didn’t see Mr. Darcy as her possessions were carried up, though she hadn’t expected to. She did fancy she could feel his presence in the home. It seemed odd to be staying in the same house with a man who once proposed to her. She would likely, on occasion, meet him in the private halls of Lucas Lodge, a strangely intimate idea.

She wouldn’t have been concerned, for he’d said nothing to indicate a renewal of his pursuit of her. Except, she’d caught him looking on her with such an odd expression as they’d talked the day before, and toured Pine Cottage. She couldn’t put a name to the look, but it made her strangely uneasy in a fluttery sort of way.

She was given a small room to herself. Most of the space was filled by a large bed that only fit pressed up against the wall, suggesting two of the Lucas siblings might once have shared the chamber. Grateful to be given her own space, she unpacked her belongings, settling her possessions just in time to change for dinner.

When the ladies entered the dining room in order of rank, Lady Lucas subtly let Elizabeth know that she ranked as a second daughter, behind Charlotte but ahead of Maria. Mr. Darcy, looking impeccable in a dark coat and freshly pressed cravat, sat in the place of honor at Lady Lucas’ right.

Mr. Darcy also warranted the good china, Elizabeth noted, scanning the table. On top of that, as the meal progressed, they were served two full courses, and no fewer than fifteen dishes. Somehow, Elizabeth didn’t think the additional course and extra offerings were on her account.

Throughout the meal, she did her best to uphold her conversational obligations, though she was still finding it difficult. Her mind kept returning to her father’s absence. She would lose the thread of discourse in memories of him, and her sorrow. More than once, she found herself staring down at her hands, unsure what topics were being discussed around her.

At the end of dinner, a selection of sweets was brought in, another addition for Mr. Darcy’s benefit. Elizabeth wondered if she should point out that Mr. Darcy didn’t care for dessert and saved the Lucases the trouble and expense. Seeing the smiles on Maria’s, Susan’s and Arthur’s faces, she discarded the idea. She wouldn’t advocate a lack of dessert and spoil the younger Lucas children’s joy.

“They’re taking up a collection to pay for the damages to the Miller’s cottage,” John Lucas said as he helped himself to a baked apple.

“That’s good of them,” Sir William said. “We shall put in.”

“I did for you, Father.”

“What happened to the Miller’s cottage?” Elizabeth asked. She realized she’d heard no neighborhood gossip recently. All their callers had come with words of condolence, not news.

“It was struck by lightning in that storm last week,” Sir William said.

“Was there as much damage as last time?” Elizabeth asked. She was a child when the Millers’ cottage was struck before. It had seemed exciting at the time. Now, she better understood the hardship a fire caused. The first time, they had to rebuild nearly the entire house. The cottage was near the top of Oakham Mount. It was built there to take advantage of the view, but with no trees around it, it seemed to attract terrible weather.

“No,” John said. “Even though the last time was years ago, they’ve since kept buckets of sand and water on hand. They put the fire out quickly. No one was hurt and only one outer wall and part of the roof were damaged.”

“How much are people contributing?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“A shilling,” John said.

“I think I can afford that,” Darcy said, pulling a shilling from his waistcoat and handing it to John.

A shilling, Elizabeth thought. He gives only a shilling, despite all his talk about charity. The incongruity between his words of the day before and his actions troubled her all evening, even as she played for the family. They were very pleased for the entertainment, but Elizabeth knew she didn’t play as well as she should. She resolved to practice diligently, for music was something she could contribute to the Lucas’ home.

The following morning found everyone similarly arrayed in the breakfast parlor as in the dining room the night before. With so many people about, Elizabeth wasn’t required to speak directly to Mr. Darcy. He seemed to make no effort to speak to her. She began to relax slightly, realizing her worry about staying in the same house with him was silly. Surely, Mr. Darcy had better things to do than attempt to be alone with her.

Her supposition was born out when Mr. Darcy announced he would be staying only until the following day, and that he had business to attend to. He invited John to ride with him and the two disappeared immediately after breakfast. Everyone else in Lucas Lodge began to take up their allotted tasks. Lady Lucas set to teaching eight-year-old Arthur addition. Charlotte excused herself to tending to her chickens. Maria took up some mending, and Susan reading.

Elizabeth wasn’t certain what she was meant to do. Lady Lucas had specified she should contribute to the household, and Elizabeth was happy to. She anticipated some kind of tasks, but what would they be?

So as not to look like she was avoiding people, Elizabeth brought down a partially made black dress she was working on. She sat in the same room as the others. While Lady Lucas tried to teach an inattentive Arthur, the cook came in, asking if she should make the apricot pork dish for dinner. Sir William appeared moments later, asking his wife when she wanted him to order the carriage for making calls. Maria wanted to know if a torn chemise was worth mending. Susan repeatedly brought her book over, asking for the meaning of longer words. Charlotte came in and told her mother that a clutch of eggs had hatched, before sitting down to sew baby garments. Elizabeth wondered how Arthur could learn with so many interruptions, but knew it wasn’t her place to say so.

Just as it seemed Lady Lucas might have a moment of quiet to focus on her youngest son, Mr. Darcy and John Lucas returned. Everyone set aside their work to attend to the two gentlemen, though Lady Lucas gave Arthur a stern look and tapped on the figures she’d written out for him.

Elizabeth almost resented the way the men sauntered in, demanding the attention of all those in the room. They looked pleased with themselves. Both were a bit wind-tousled, the slight disarray of his hair something Elizabeth hadn’t thought to see from Mr. Darcy. After greetings were exchanged, he seated himself on the other end of the couch she occupied.

“Your business went well, I trust, Mr. Darcy?” Lady Lucas said.

Elizabeth noticed Arthur used his mother’s distraction to stop working on the figures she’d given him.

“Yes, thank you, Lady Lucas. Quite well.”

John grinned at that, but said nothing. Elizabeth wondered what the two could possibly have been up to. They looked like cats in a creamery.

“I would like to thank you for your hospitality, Lady Lucas,” Mr. Darcy continued. “With my last bit of business finished, I’ll be on my way tomorrow, directly after breakfast.”

“Are you sure? You’re welcome here as long as you like. We’re very grateful for all you’ve done for Charlotte.”

“I assure you, I’ve done little.”

“You’ve been the very meaning of helpful,” Charlotte said, offering a warm smile. “Don’t feel you must hurry off because your efforts on my behalf are concluded.”

He had been helpful, Elizabeth knew. Charlotte had confided in her that Mr. Darcy had charged only a shilling for his service. Charlotte felt a lot of what Mr. Darcy was doing stemmed from guilt over his aunt’s lack of assistance and highhandedness. Elizabeth wasn’t as sure.

To feel guilty for Lady Catherine’s behavior, Mr. Darcy would need to condemn it. Wouldn’t that fly in the face of his ideas about wealth, nobility and station? What other reason could there be, though, but guilt? A pure hearted desire to do good? Yet he’d given only a shilling to a family who needed to rebuild a portion of their home. She shook her head. She couldn’t understand him.

“Thank you, but I would never care to overstay my welcome,” Mr. Darcy was saying as Elizabeth forced herself to attend to the conversation.

When had she become such a woolgatherer?

“Well, you’re welcome back any time,” John Lucas said, his smile friendly.

Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth realized, had charmed the Lucases. Their words and looks spoke of true regard, not simply what was due Mr. Darcy’s station.

“You have a fine home. It’s been my pleasure to stay here,” Mr. Darcy said.

Though his tone was level, Elizabeth had the feeling he was running out of proper things to say. She wondered if she should attempt to rescue him. He deserved it, for helping Charlotte.

A loud pounding sounded down the hall, coming from the front entrance of the home. Everyone exchanged looks of confusion, John Lucas standing. They could all hear a servant answer the door, then hurried footsteps. Kitty burst into the room, looking frazzled.

“Lydia ran off with Mr. Wickham,” she gasped out.

Elizabeth surged to her feet, her sewing tumbling to the floor as she covered her mouth with her hands.

Questions spilled forth from everyone in the room. Elizabeth was aware of others on their feet as well. Arthur Lucas was looking about with wide, freighted eyes as the adults’ voices rose. Elizabeth couldn’t bring any words into focus. Lydia with Wickham. Run off. Her sister was ruined. They were all ruined. She pressed her hands harder against her mouth, feeling the room sway slightly about her.

“Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy’s strong hand gripped her shoulder. His voice was low, deep with worry. “Elizabeth, sit down. Please.”

She nodded. His hand steadied her as she retook her seat. As soon as she did, he withdrew back to his side of the couch. Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, collecting herself.

“Everyone, please, sit down. Let Miss Kitty speak and I’m sure we’ll have our answers,” Lady Lucas said, her voice pitched to carry.

Everyone returned to their seats, Kitty taking the nearest available spot. Arthur and Susan endeavored to look small, obviously worried to be sent away from something so interesting.

“Now, Kitty dear, tell us what happened,” Lady Lucas said, her tone soothing. “Arthur, Susan, go tell cook we require tea, and some of those little cakes from dinner. You may each have two.”

Their faces moving from petulant to ecstatic over the course of their mother’s orders, the youngest two Lucas children jumped up and darted off toward the kitchen.

“Kitty?” Elizabeth said, finally finding her voice.

Kitty swallowed, looking around at all the faces. “A letter came from Colonel Forster.” Kitty’s tone was breathless and babbling. “Mr. Collins brought it over, but Mama didn’t open it, thinking it was another letter of condolence, but when Mr. Collins brought over a second letter from Colonel Forster, she opened it. Colonel Forster discovered they probably didn’t go to Scotland. He believes they’re somewhere in London and . . .” She let out a little sob. “And n—n—not married.” Covering her face with her hands, Kitty dissolved into tears.

Elizabeth went to her sister, kneeling before Kitty and taking her hands. Murmuring nonsensical things, she tried to sooth Kitty, though she knew the situation was dire indeed. When her sobs subsided, Kitty offered a watery smile.

“Mama is so upset, Lizzy. I think she’ll make herself truly ill.”

Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hands. “We’ll take care of her. Has anything been done?”

“Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and Jane are going back to London. They likely already left. Uncle Gardiner says he’ll find Lydia, but I don’t know what g-good that will d-d-”

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her crying sister. Behind her, she heard the tea arrive. Moments later, Lady Lucas was there. As Elizabeth moved back, Lady Lucas pressed a cup of tea into Kitty’s hands. Kitty gave her a grateful smile.

“You should have a cup as well, Elizabeth,” Lady Lucas said, pouring another.

Elizabeth took the seat beside Kitty, vacated earlier by Susan. She watched Lady Lucas fix the tea to her liking, then add extra sweetener. When she passed Elizabeth the cup, Lady Lucas’ face held sympathy but no condemnation.

Elizabeth was grateful for that. Lydia’s actions changed Elizabeth from a poor, but respectable, gentleman’s daughter, to a poor houseguest from a family with a scandal. Lady Lucas would be within her rights to put Elizabeth out, despite anything she’d ever done for Charlotte. Some would even say it was the advisable thing to do, with two impressionable young daughters and an unmarried heir in the house.

It wasn’t until Elizabeth had taken several sips of her tea that she looked around and realized Mr. Darcy was gone. She wondered if the scandal was too much for him. He surely wasn’t accustomed to associating with families whose daughters ran about with men, out of wedlock. Then, neither was she.

Elizabeth walked back to Pine Cottage with Kitty, aware of the strain in her younger sister. When they arrived, Elizabeth was glad she’d come. Not because it was at all enjoyable. Her mother railed and raved, cried, moaned and repeatedly declared her own demise was at hand. She also ranted bitterly about Mr. Bennet’s evil in leaving them.

What pleased Elizabeth was to aid Kitty in her new life as their mother’s soul companion, unless Lydia returned. It was obvious Kitty bore too much of their mother’s woe, and needed someone else to listen to Mrs. Bennet blame everyone for everything, and anyone but herself and Lydia for their new hardship.

When Mary arrived, over two hours later, Elizabeth took the opportunity to say her farewells for the day. Mrs. Bennet complained, but Elizabeth told her mother she had duties at Lucas Lodge and had to leave. This spurred a round of Mrs. Bennet’s worn monologue about Elizabeth not wedding Mr. Collins when he offered for her. Even though that litany was nearly soothing compared to Mrs. Bennet’s sobs about Lydia, Elizabeth still made her escape. To her surprise, John Lucas was waiting outside and fell in with her as she started walking.

“I was hoping we could talk,” he said. “There’s no privacy at Lucas Lodge.”

Elizabeth deduced from the seriousness of his tone that this was not an attempt at romance. She was relieved by that, and not in the least surprised. Although he routinely danced with her at assemblies, he never did so more than once. Nor did she think her change in circumstances had made him more interested in her. “Of course.”

“You should know, I don’t want to be alone with you in private. Ever. My parents told me they will disinherit me if I compromised you and we don’t marry.” He cast her a quick grimace. “That was harsher than I meant, but I don’t wish to marry you and I think you feel the same.”

Elizabeth nodded, trying not to let her amusement show. She’d never known John Lucas to be so agitated. It was obvious he took the threat of being made to wed her very seriously. “I do.”

“We can talk on a public road, of course.” He made a sweeping gesture, taking in their surroundings. “I simply can’t be found in private with you. I hope you’ll cooperate with this.”

“I will,” she agreed. “And thank you for telling me, so I don’t imagine you’ve come to despise me for what my sister has done.”

“I would never,” he said, but the slight flush coloring his neck bespoke of how near to the mark her words were.

“I realize her actions put us giving the appearance of closeness in a new light,” Elizabeth said. “Let us act as brother and sister in company and avoid being together alone.”

“Thank you.” He cast her a glance before returning his attention to the roadway before them. “I’m sorry it must be this way. We’ve always been friends. I’m sorry about your sister, too. I disliked Mr. Wickham before he ran off with her. Now, I wish I’d been more vocal in that dislike.”

“You echo my thoughts on the subject.”

“Do I? I thought you used to find his company pleasant.”

Elizabeth twisted her lips in a droll smile. “Once, I admit, but not recently. I came to appreciate he isn’t a man to be trusted, not his actions or words.”

“I thought as much. I saw you talking to him the night before the regiment left. I couldn’t overhear what you said, but I could tell you weren’t happy with him.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Why the change? Everyone liked him.” His tone was bitter.

Elizabeth contemplated her answer, wondering how much to tell. “I found out that, although Mr. Darcy did deny Mr. Wickham the living, he paid him three thousand pounds, at Mr. Wickham’s request.”

“So he lied.”

“I’m not certain any statement he made was actually a lie. However, after thinking about it, I realized the inconsistencies in his actions. He claimed he would never besmirch the Darcy name. Then he did so, but only after Mr. Darcy left the area.” She was too ashamed by her own lack of judgement to admit Mr. Wickham had only told her about his fake woes after he ascertained her dislike for Mr. Darcy. “Why did you dislike him?”

“Mary King.”

“Mr. Wickham was courting her,” Elizabeth recalled.

“I was courting her before she inherited ten thousand pounds.” If anything, John sounded more bitter than before. “As soon as she inherited, Wickham swooped in and dazzled her.”

“Then her uncle took her to Liverpool.”

“And I lost my chance.” He sighed. “I love her.”

Elizabeth blinked, surprised by the admission. “Why don’t you go to Liverpool and try again?”

“She’ll think me a fortune hunter. So will her uncle.”

“Perhaps. Was she aware you were courting her before she inherited?” Elizabeth sought back. She seemed to recall John dancing with Miss King, but not more than with any other girl.

“She knew. At least, I think she knew.” There was little conviction in his voice.

“Then she can tell her uncle you courted her before she inherited the money.” Elizabeth smiled. “Not to mention, assuming you don’t compromise me, you aren’t a penniless suitor.”

John looked down at the road beneath their feet. “What if she doesn’t believe me? Or turns me away? Or doesn’t return my feelings?”

“What is it worth to you to gain her hand? Is it worth being embarrassed?” Elizabeth let a touch of exasperation into her voice. If John did love Miss King, he was being quite foolish.

“If I knew I would gain her hand, I would go,” he said, evading Elizabeth’s question.

“Do you want to spend all of your life wondering if you would have won her and regretting you didn’t try?” Elizabeth asked, feeling a mixture of amusement and annoyance for John’s behavior.

“No.” This time, his tone was thoughtful.

They walked the remainder of the way back to Lucas Lodge in silence.

Chapter Eleven

You aren’t stupid. Why do you act it?

The search shouldn’t have taken so long, but Darcy eventually found where Wickham and Miss Lydia were staying. The woman at the lodging house directed him to a tavern down the street. He walked in, expecting to see them eating a meal, but found Miss Lydia serving one.

“Miss Bennet,” Darcy said.

She turned to look and he saw the surprise in her face when she recognized him. “La, Mr. Darcy. Here I’m only Lydia.”

“Hardly only Lydia,” said a tavern patron, patting her familiarly on her seat.

Darcy was shocked, but Miss Lydia giggled and smiled at the man. Darcy looked around, stunned into immobility at finding a gentleman’s daughter playing a barmaid. Not just a barmaid, but an enthusiastic one.

Throughout the tavern, men were looking at Miss Lydia appreciatively. There were only two other females in the place, and Darcy judged both to be prostitutes. One caught his eye and smiled, showing three gaps where teeth were missing. He quickly looked away, not wanting to encourage her. The second was probably thirty but, as emaciated as she was, it was hard to tell. She used the distraction of Darcy’s presence to snag some food off the plate of the man at the table with her. Her plate looked like she’d licked it clean.

Miss Lydia sauntered over. “What can I get you, Mr. Darcy? Care for a seat?”

“Hey, don’t be runnin’ off with our Lydia, yer lordship,” one of the men called. “She’s the best thing ever happened to this dump.”

Darcy looked down at the girl before him, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with the Miss Lydia from his world. He recognized what the men in the tavern saw in her. She was pretty, true, but it was more than that. There wasn’t a hint of frailty in her. She exuded health and energy, unlike the ragged, worn women of their acquaintance.

It jolted him to realize part of Miss Lydia’s general attraction was a little of what he loved about Elizabeth. He knew he loved Elizabeth’s keen mind and her beauty, but there was also a freedom about her. Unfortunately, Miss Lydia carried that quality to an extreme. Elizabeth got it exactly right. Elizabeth also had good manners and concern for others. Her older sister had those qualities too, but was lacking the vitality of Elizabeth and Lydia.

Why did everything have to remind him of Elizabeth?

“I would like to talk to you,” Darcy said evenly, ignoring the increased grumbling from the men about the room.

“Unless you are buying a great deal, it will have to be after closing.”

“When is that?” He had the coin, but no desire to remain in the seedy establishment, fending off women of questionable repute.

She gave him a crooked grin. “When the customers stop coming.” With a toss of her hair, she turned away, took out a rag and began wiping an empty table.

Darcy left the tavern, retracing his steps to the boarding house. There, he bribed the woman who ran it to let him into the room Wickham and Miss Lydia were staying in. As a matter of prudence, he paid for two of his footmen to wait in an adjoining room. He realized as he did it, he was showing the power of his money, and doing so purposefully. He wanted Wickham to be reminded of what a man of Darcy’s means could do.

Because he expected a long wait, Darcy had one of his footmen go out and get food to share with the frightened family who was staying in the room he’d stationed his men in. When he checked, about an hour later, he found his footmen were becoming friends with the now grateful residents of the room. His footmen had purchased much more food than they would eat in a single meal and made it clear they would leave the excess.

With a nod to his men to indicate his approval, Darcy took himself back to Wickham’s and Miss Lydia’s room to wait. It was a small space, cluttered with their possessions. It appeared neither of the two were inclined to be neat. There was only one bed. Darcy tried not to look at it. Each time he did, he found himself conjuring up images of seeing Wickham hanged. Instead, he gingerly moved aside a pile of discarded clothing and seated himself in the room’s only armchair.

It was well past dark by the time Wickham and Miss Lydia finally arrived. She was giggling and chattering on about her day. Wickham appeared to be doing his best to ignore her. Neither saw him until Wickham crossed to the small table and lit a candle.

Miss Lydia gasped, but her surprise quickly transformed into a smile.

Wickham eyed Darcy for a long moment, a look of trepidation on his face. Slowly, he composed his featured. “Darcy. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I want to restore Miss Bennet to her family or see her married.” This wasn’t the tavern. He would refer to her properly.

“Why?” Mr. Wickham asked.

“Because my silence about your character made it possible for you to fool her. If I’d spoken, you wouldn’t have been allowed near her, either by her family or Colonel Forster.” Darcy admitted to himself that was only a small portion of the truth. Elizabeth’s happiness and reputation were his greater worries.

“How much would you pay for a wedding?” Wickham pulled out one of the two rickety wooden chairs at the table, turning it to seat himself across from Darcy. “I have debts both in Meryton and in Brighton. I also need something to live on.”

“But we’re earning something to live on,” Miss Lydia said, looking back and forth between them. “And I’m having ever so much fun. The tavern is more interesting than dancing all night.”

“We’ve been lucky.” Wickham didn’t even bother to look at her as he spoke, his eyes on Darcy.

“But you said you got work today. We earned enough today to pay for our food and lodging and have a bit left over to save,” she said. “We don’t need Mr. Darcy.”

Wickham shot her an irritated glance. “One day, if I don’t find work, it’ll take us weeks to make up for it. If one of us gets sick, we’ll need money to tide us over. What we’re earning doesn’t offer security.”

“You’ve been working?” Darcy asked. Wickham never worked, not really.

“I’ve been loading and unloading barges. Every night I come home so sore I don’t think I can go on, but in the morning, I realize I still have to eat. The other men tell me the work is sporadic, but it’s busy now. A man broke his arm today. The boss was nice to him. He paid him for the full day.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Miss Lydia said, her eyes round. “When were you going to tell me we aren’t making enough money?”

“I thought you would figure it out.” Wickham gave a weary shrug. “It’s worse than that. One reason they like you at the tavern is because you dress like gentry. When your clothing wears out, we won’t be able to replace it.”

“We’ll find a way,” she said, crossing to stand beside him.

“No, we won’t. One wrong move and all of your fun will turn into something more horrible than you can imagine, Lydia.”

Darcy eyed Wickham in surprise. He sounded . . . as if he might actually care.

Wickham took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips. “You have to go home.”

“I don’t want to go home. Uncle Gardiner wrote that I’m to live in Pine Cottage. It’s tiny. I’d probably have to go back to sharing a room with Kitty.” She smiled suggestively at him. “I’d much rather share a room with you than with Kitty.”

Darcy worked to contain a grimace.

“You’ll be safer there,” Wickham said, his voice gentle.

“I don’t want to be safe, I want to enjoy myself,” she said with a flip of her hair.

“Lydia--”

“Why did you take me away from Brighton?” she asked, her tone damped by sudden seriousness.

“Because you had enough money to get us to London and I was facing debtor’s prison.”

Darcy saw the shock he felt mirrored on Miss Lydia’s face. He doubted the emotion stemmed from the same place, however. He was surprised at Wickham’s honesty. By the way Miss Lydia’s expression twisted from surprise to horror, Darcy rather felt she’d received a rude awakening.

“I am willing to marry you,” Wickham said.

“If Mr. Darcy pays you enough.” Miss Lydia’s tone was bitter.

Wickham grinned. “I’m not that particular. I’ll marry you if anyone pays me enough.”

“Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, deciding he’d had enough. “I can take you back to your family.”

“No.” She stomped her foot. “I hate it there. I’ve lived there all my life and I know there’s no one there for me. None of the men there who I want to marry think I’m worth marrying.”

Darcy refrained from pointing out that would be doubly so now.

“How am I supposed to find a man in Hertfordshire?” she continued. “My sister Jane is practically perfect, and she couldn’t. Even she fell in love with someone who isn’t from there.” Her expression turned slightly dreamy. “He was perfect, your friend Mr. Bingley. Handsome, and wealthy, but he deserted her.” Her eyes refocused on Darcy. “I understand she’s going to live with the Gardiners, but she should live in Pine Cottage, because she’s pining.” She giggled at her pun.

Darcy felt a surge of guilt. Elizabeth told him about Miss Bennet’s love for Bingley when he proposed to her, but even then, he’d never quite believed it. Hearing Miss Lydia repeat it, without the agenda of seeing her sister made happy, finally convinced him he was wrong. “What do you want, then?”

“I want to marry Wickham.” She turned a smile on Wickham. “Even if you pay him to do it, and even after the things he said.”

“Why?” Wickham asked. “You know I don’t love you.”

“I do. I suppose I’ve always known.” She frowned, looking as thoughtful as Darcy had ever seen her. “Somehow, I want to be with you. You make life fun.”

She turned back to Darcy with a smile and a shrug, then went to sit at the table, gesturing for him to join her. Darcy dragged over the armchair while Wickham turned his seat back around. As soon as all three were seated, the bargaining began.

Eventually, they came to an agreement. The money would keep the two of them from living in poverty, but they wouldn’t be able to afford anything beyond the barest means if they didn’t work. Working would raise their comfort level considerably. To Darcy’s surprise, Miss Lydia took over most of the bargaining. She was surprisingly astute at it.

When everything was settled, Darcy eyed Elizabeth’s youngest sister for a long moment. “Miss Bennet--”

“Lydia,” she said firmly.

“You have acted like a silly girl, and that includes your choice to marry Mr. Wickham.” He paused, taking in the amusement on her face. “You aren’t stupid. Why do you act it?”

“What choice do I have?” She shrugged.

“I don’t understand,” Darcy admitted.

“Mostly, it’s Elizabeth’s fault.”

“What?” Darcy frowned.

“She was Papa’s favorite. She’s very clever. I could never compete. Papa would never have liked me. At least Mama liked me when I was stupid.” She turned a fond smile on Wickham. “And look, that stupidity brought me the man I love.”

Wickham winced. “Darcy, let me walk you out.”

Darcy nodded, as eager to be gone as Wickham seemed to have him gone. After they left Miss Lydia, Darcy knocked on the neighbor’s door to bring his unneeded footmen with him. Their hosts asked Darcy if they could come again, to which he gave a noncommittal reply.

“I don’t understand her,” Mr. Wickham complained as they walked down a dingy, poorly lit hall.

“I don’t either,” Darcy said. Nor did he care to.

Wickham sighed. “I threw away my chances.”

“You did.”

When they reached the front of the building, Wickham stopped, holding out his hand. He had an odd look on his face. “I have a feeling this is the last time you will be my safety net.”

Darcy took the proffered hand, shaking it. “You can count on that.”

Chapter Twelve

The gift was kind, generous and eminently practical.

In the days that followed, Elizabeth took over Arthur’s lessons. He thrived on her attention, learning faster than before. Elizabeth didn’t harbor any illusions she was a better teacher than Lady Lucas. Arthur’s attentiveness was partly explained by the lack of interruptions, as she made it a rule not to permit any, and partly because Elizabeth had become a novel commodity in the Lucas household. Arthur wanted his lessons, seeing them as his time with Elizabeth, and he needed tutelage.

Maria and Susan both decided they wanted to learn to play the pianoforte. Mary’s sheet music proved useful for teaching them. Elizabeth didn’t consider herself someone to learn the pianoforte from, but Mary had passed along several pieces for beginners, which made it easy for Elizabeth to teach the fundamentals. Maria only practiced when Elizabeth was sitting next to her, but Susan devoted a couple of hours a day to the instrument and was learning quickly.

Charlotte and Elizabeth spent a great deal of time together, Elizabeth assisting Charlotte with her tasks. They fed the chickens and sewed baby garments. Sometimes, Elizabeth helped in the kitchen. Her days were full of minor tasks, none of which were onerous.

Since her father’s passing, Elizabeth and her sisters had been forced to bear up under the mock sympathy of people who seemed to be triumphing over their financial reversal. Those same people, when she encountered them in passing, were all but gleeful over Lydia’s disappearance. Sentiment toward their family wasn’t helped when Mr. Wickham was found to be in debt to many tradesmen in Meryton. Unfortunately, his name was now irrecoverably tied to theirs. In deep mourning, Elizabeth was saved from encountering anyone but family, except as a matter of chance. With mild guilt, she realized her father’s death made her present circumstances easier, giving her a reason to avoid malice.

Aside from her duties at Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth took to visiting her mother and Kitty twice a week. She knew she ought to go more often, to spare Kitty their mother’s constant company, but couldn’t bring herself to. Elizabeth enjoyed the walk, at least, and could do much of it in fields to avoid people. Turning onto the lane on one of her weekly visits, nearly a month after Lydia’s scandal was announced, Elizabeth was surprised to spy the Gardiner’s carriage in front of Pine Cottage.

She rushed inside, hoping for good news. For any news, really. As angry as she was with her sister, Elizabeth was also worried. There’d been no sign of Lydia for weeks. Anything could have happened to her. Elizabeth could hear her mother’s raised voice as she neared the parlor. Entering, she found the room full of her mother, Kitty and Mr. Gardiner.

“Lydia’s going to be married,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, breaking off her haranguing as her gaze landed on Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet looked exceedingly proud. Kitty sat beside her, relieved and happy.

Elizabeth hurried to her uncle, who’d stood upon her entry. “You found her.”

“No, they came to us,” Mr. Gardiner said.

“They came to you? After all this time? Is Lydia well?”

Mr. Gardiner nodded. “She seems fit. They sought me out because they want to marry, and it’s easier to get married with permission. Mr. Wickham also wanted a monetary guarantee.”

Elizabeth frowned, instantly suspicious. “Such as?”

“Only that, when Mrs. Bennet dies, he will inherit Lydia’s share.”

“That’s all?” Elizabeth asked. That level of forbearance didn’t fit with the Wickham she’d come to know.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Lizzy?” her mother said. “Lydia has done what neither you or Jane could do. Brought an officer up to scratch. I always knew she was the best of you. To think, a younger sister finding a husband when her older siblings are languishing on the market. That’s what comes of being pretty and lively, and not letting off-putting thoughts from books into your head.”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Elizabeth’s uncle said in answer to her as soon as Mrs. Bennet ceased speaking. “I also have a list of debts in Meryton and was given money to discharge them. Colonel Forster received a similar list and the money to cover it, for Wickham’s Brighton debts.”

“Will he return to his post, then?” she asked, wondering where Wickham had gotten the money to cover his debts. She would suspect her uncle, but he said he’d received the list and coin. She couldn’t quite believe he would lie to her face.

“He’s resigning his commission in the militia.”

“What will he do?” Elizabeth asked. Wickham was hardly fit for anything else.

“He was working loading barges, but I found better employment for him. He combines acting as secretary for the business along with doing some of the heavy lifting. The business is owned by a childless, elderly couple who are happy to have one person who can do both.” He cleared his throat, looking abashed. “Lydia is working in a tavern.”

“A tavern?” Elizabeth exclaimed. When word of that got out, and it would, no one would take any of the other Bennet sisters to wife. Of course, Lydia had nearly guaranteed that already, with her behavior.

“As I was telling Mr. Gardiner before you entered, that is totally unacceptable,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Some money should be found so my Lydia doesn’t have to work.”

“The only money there is would take away from you and your other four daughters,” Mr. Gardiner said, in a tone that suggested he’d told this to Mrs. Bennet many times before.

“Lizzy and Jane don’t deserve their shares.” Mrs. Bennet cast Elizabeth a glare. “They both had the chance to marry, and both failed to do so. Why, if Elizabeth had only accepted Mr. Collins, I would still be in Longbourn, where I belong.”

All the more reason to be happy about refusing, because now I don’t have to live with you, Elizabeth thought, but she held her tongue.

“The money is already allocated.” Mr. Gairdner’s tone was firm.

“I don’t see--”

“Of course, you could always give Lydia some of your share, or send her a portion of your budget,” Mr. Gardiner said, cutting over Mrs. Bennet’s protest.

Elizabeth’s mother fell silent. Uncle Gardiner turned his head slightly, offering Elizabeth a conspiratorial wink. She worked to hide her smile, turning the conversation to talk of the wedding.

Several weeks later, the wedding day came and went. Though Mrs. Bennet railed against it, none of them had the funds to travel to London for the occasion. Nor did Lydia and Mr. Wickham wish to spend coin on a journey to Hertfordshire, to Elizabeth’s relief. It was terrible she had to accept Mr. Wickham as a brother, and would be doubly so if she must do it in person.

A letter confirming the event arrived from Lydia, signed Lydia Wickham. Elizabeth’s mother insisted on showing it to everyone who called. Mrs. Gardiner also wrote, including in her letter a description of the occasion. Elizabeth suspected her aunt’s letter was more designed to confirm the wedding actually took place than anything else.

Though Mrs. Bennet mourned the loss of a carriage, which would allow her to visit everyone she knew and talk about her married daughter, Elizabeth thought it a mercy. In spite of that restriction, her mother still managed to visit everyone within walking distance to give the good news. Both letters were read with a frequency that Kitty claimed to be able to recite them from memory.

Though Mr. and Mrs. Wickham couldn’t afford the time or money to visit, Mrs. Bennet decided she had to have a celebratory dinner. Elizabeth, Mary and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips joined Mrs. Bennet and Kitty in Pine Cottage. They ate in the same room that served as the parlor. Two of the armchairs were brought to the table to supplement the seating, placed at the foot and head for balance.

It was the first engagement Mrs. Bennet had hosted in her new home. Six of them crowded around the table and were served many fewer dishes than they would have had in Longbourn. There was enough food, and it was cooked well, though there were few choices. Mrs. Bennet spent much of the dinner bemoaning her impoverished state and the fact her favorite daughter couldn’t come for a visit. Though they’d all heard them, both letters were read several more times over the course of the evening.

When they were finished, Kitty somewhat defiantly picked up two plates and started for the kitchen. Elizabeth copied her actions, entering to find the two servants were still working, one scrubbing a roasting pan and the other sweeping the floor. Elizabeth and Kitty made quick work of clearing the table while the others moved to the opposite side of the parlor. When they were done, Kitty whisked the table cloth off, carefully turning up the corners to catch the food. Elizabeth followed her outside. Crossing to where her new chickens lived, Kitty shook out the crumbs.

Elizabeth watched the two scrawny hens flock to Kitty’s feet, if flock was the right word when there were only two. “You do this regularly?”

Kitty nodded, giving the cloth a final shake before holding it up to examine. “Mama insists on a tablecloth for every meal.” Kitty looked critically at the tablecloth. “This will have to be washed, but usually we’re careful enough.”

“Is she spending too much money?”

“Not for the two of us, but she’s not saving anything.” Kitty frowned. “She moans about Papa not saving, but she could save. The Gardiners and the Phillips calculated that four people would live here, not two.”

“It would be hard to save after living like she did before,” Elizabeth said, more to soothe Kitty than because she didn’t agree.

“If she would just use some common sense, it would be easier.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh. Their mother and common sense were not close acquaintances.

Kitty offered a rueful smile. “It’s true. The cottage has this chicken coop, and I’m raising chickens in it. That makes sense.”

“Chickens? Is that what you call these?” Elizabeth said, her tone teasing as she gestured to the half-sized birds at their feet.

“They’re young. They’ll grow, if I have my way.”

“Your way?”

“Mama wanted to use them for tonight’s dinner, but I told her no.” Kitty jutted out her chin. “I bought them with my own money. They’re my chickens. I’m caring for them, and I intend to use them to raise more chickens.”

“You know you need a rooster if you really want more chickens?”

Kitty raised her eyebrows. “Yes, of course I know. I’m not Lydia. Mr. Collins said he would loan me a cock.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Good for you,” she settled for saying.

“Have you heard about Mary?” Kitty asked, bundling up the tablecloth.

“Heard what?” Elizabeth asked, noting the cheerful glint in Kitty’s eyes.

“She’s been seen walking in the village with Mr. Mitchel, Uncle Phillips’ clerk.”

“Really?” Elizabeth hadn’t heard, but she was pleased. She’d only ever met Mr. Mitchel in passing, but he seemed a nice sort. She thought back to dinner, trying to decide if Mary showed any signs of woolgathering, but couldn’t.

Kitty nodded. “Maybe she’ll marry and I can go live with the Phillips.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth offered.

“We best get back, or Mama will give me another lecture on how my chickens take more time and food than they’re worth.” Kitty rolled her eyes, turning toward the kitchen door.

Back in the parlor, they entered to the sound of conversation. While they moved the table to the side and reclaimed the two armchairs, Elizabeth sorted out her family’s chatter.

“. . . he was going to do something for someone, it should have been us,” her mother was saying in her usual tone of complaint. “No one has it so bad as we do. Someone should take up a collection for us, and buy us a lightning rod. With all the pines long gone, this cottage is vulnerable to being struck. Not that I would accept a lightning rod, of course. I don’t need charity.”

“Who has a lightning rod?” Elizabeth asked, sitting.

Her Uncle Philips turned to her. “The Millers. Mr. Darcy arranged for it before he left, and it’s up now. Hopefully that will put an end to their trouble with fire, though they still have sand on hand.”

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth repeated, recalling the shilling he’d put in for the repair of the Millers’ home, and her uncharitable thoughts.

“Yes. From what Mr. Collins says, he often does that sort of thing.”

“I will not have that man’s name in my home,” Mrs. Bennet cried.

“Mr. Darcy’s?” Aunt Phillips asked, sounding surprised.

“Either.” Mrs. Bennet put a hand to her brow. “I do not care for rude young men who won’t give my lovely daughters a second glance, or for that usurper Collins. He is the very devil, living in my home.”

“Now, now, Mrs. Bennet,” her uncle began.

While the Phillips and Mary tried to both calm and refute Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth frowned, thinking. Mr. Darcy and John Lucas had been very smug the day Mr. Darcy left. Was arranging for a lightning rod what they’d been up to? Would they have said as much if Kitty hadn’t entered?

Elizabeth had spent some thought on Mr. Darcy’s abrupt departure that day. She had the uncharitable idea he’d run off, disdainful of both scandal and anything to do with Mr. Wickham. Perhaps his hasty departure had another cause? Had he, in truth, been on his way to finish arranging for his gift to the Millers and realized staying would cost more time than he wished, in view of the uproar?

Elizabeth could see the thought behind his gift of a lightning rod. Why rebuild without taking precautions against a repeat of the incident? The gift was kind, generous and eminently practical.

Elizabeth sighed. It seemed she’d misjudged Mr. Darcy. Again.

Chapter Thirteen

As the tumult and heartbreak receded, her fury didn’t return.

For some reason, hearing that Elizabeth’s youngest sister and his former rival were happily wedded spurred John Lucas into finally going to Liverpool in pursuit of Miss King. He made no secret to Elizabeth and his family of where he was going or why, though he forwent mentioning it was Elizabeth’s idea. When he returned over a week later, dejected, he also made no secret of how his efforts were received.

Miss King had welcomed him, but her uncle considered him a fortune hunter and kept them apart. John Lucas reported managing a brief private meeting with Miss King where he asked her to wait until she was of age. The bulk of his dejection seemed to stem from her reply that three years seemed like forever to her and she couldn’t promise anything.

Elizabeth tried to see, but failed to detect, any marked antagonism toward her on John Lucas’ part. After three days, she was happy to conclude he failed to blame her for his state of misery. He, like she, must realize that at least he’d tried.

The family was seated to dinner on the fourth day after his return when a pounding at the door was followed by the entrance of Miss Mary King. Her red hair was half down and her clothing showed signs of being slept in. She carried a small bag, which might have held one change of clothes.

John stood as soon as she was shown into the room. “Mary,” he exclaimed, rushing to her side.

She flung herself into his arms. “I couldn’t let him separate us.”

Elizabeth stared at the young woman in shock, peering past her in vain for a chaperone. Belatedly, everyone else started to stand, Elizabeth along with them. Charlotte cast her an incredulous glance. Elizabeth replied with a shrug. She was as shocked as Charlotte.

“Miss King,” Sir William said, his tone kind. “What a pleasant, if unexpected, surprise.”

She stepped from John Lucas’ arms, smoothing her hands over a hopelessly wrinkled skirt before curtsying. “Sir William. Please forgive me for disturbing your dinner.”

“Not at all, dear,” Lady Lucas said as she came around the table. “Would you like to join us? Or care to refresh yourself?”

Miss King looked up at John Lucas, then around the room. “I . . . that is, I should like to refresh myself, thank you.”

“Of course.” Lady Lucas turned back, her eyes finding Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, could you show Miss King to your room? I think it would be best if she shares with you for the time being.”

“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth came around the table, offering John Lucas and Miss King a reassuring smile. She instantly comprehended that Lady Lucas had given her the additional role of chaperone, for there were empty bedrooms available. Elizabeth approved. A young woman who had traveled days by herself to reach a man might not baulk at the length of a hallway.

“Miss King,” Elizabeth greeted.

“Miss Bennet, thank you,” Miss King said, offering a weary smile. She exchanged a loving look with John Lucas before permitting Elizabeth to lead her away. As they traversed the hall, Elizabeth could hear Sir William behind her, demanding an explanation from his son.

When they reached Elizabeth’s room, Miss King sank down on the edge of the bed. “I confess, I’d no idea traveling alone would be so difficult.” She offered another tired smile.

“I imagine it was,” Elizabeth said, trying to hide her worry for the girl. If John Lucas didn’t still wish to marry her, Miss King was ruined. She’d be fit only for true fortune hunters.

“I was hoping for the chance to speak to you in private, Miss Bennet.”

“You were?” Elizabeth had never seen much of Miss King, outside of polite events. She couldn’t imagine what they would have to speak about. She hoped it wasn’t Lydia. Elizabeth didn’t want to learn her sister’s rash behavior was an example to other young women.

“Please, sit with me a moment.”

Slightly apprehensive, Elizabeth sat beside her on the edge of the bed.

Miss King turned to face her. “I want to thank you.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Thank me?”

“For advising John to come court me. I was so bedazzled by Mr. Wickham, I never saw how wonderful John is. Imagine coming all that way just on the chance that I might, well, care for him?”

“You came the same distance,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“But I knew he was here waiting for me, loving me.”

“True enough.” Elizabeth offered a return smile. “Would you like me to send for water? Do you have anything to change into?”

“It isn’t only that you sent him,” Miss King said, ignoring Elizabeth’s questions. She reached for Elizabeth’s hand, clasping it in both of her own. “You considered his happiness, and mine. I can’t see how you could have done it. You must be the kindest of souls. If he’d stayed, he might have fallen in love with you. I mean, you see him every day. How did you find it in your heart to give him up?”

Elizabeth considered John Lucas to be rather shallow and not particularly bright, but in possession of a harmless good nature that made it pleasant for her to be in the same household with him. He was neither handsome nor ugly, being rather ordinary looking. She kept her features arranged in a way she hoped said nothing of those thoughts, endeavoring for an answer that didn’t display his defects. “I think his being my friend’s brother makes me think of him more as a brother than a romantic figure so, you see, I am not so noble as all that.”

Miss King released Elizabeth’s hand, only to wrap her in a hug. “Then you shall be my sister.”

“I hope so,” Elizabeth said, meaning she hoped Miss King and John Lucas would marry. She was not certain her status of being a sister would last.

“Of course you shall be.” Miss King released her to offer a wide smile. “You taught both of us that true love is worth taking risks for.”

Elizabeth renewed her prayers that all would turn out well for the couple, especially if Miss King intended to repeat that remark to others.

Resolved to do her duty by the Lucases, Elizabeth informed Miss King she would have the side of the bed near the wall, then went to request water and seek a change of clothing for the girl. Together, the women of Lucas Lodge found the necessities for Miss King, taking her clothing down to be washed on the morrow. Eventually, the household returned to a rather late dinner, though the youngest Lucases had already eaten and gone to bed.

Later that night, her new bedfellow dressed in a nightgown supplied by Charlotte, Elizabeth lay listening to the almost-snore of the young woman beside her. As she contemplated how happy John Lucas and Mary King seemed at dinner, Elizabeth wondered what she wished for in a husband. Clearly, Mary King wanted someone who would ride across England and suffer her uncle’s ire.

When Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth, she told him he was the last man in the world she would consider marrying. Reflecting on those hasty, perhaps too-cruel words, she realized she’d never considered marrying John Lucas, and she’d known him for years. In truth, there were many men she’d never thought of in that light. Yet, though she’d disliked him almost upon meeting him, Elizabeth’s mind now frequently touched on what it would be like to marry Mr. Darcy.

She didn’t think of herself as fortune seeking, and so didn’t believe it was his wealth that put such thoughts in her head. Indeed, when she thought of him, she didn’t picture the trappings of his circumstance. She pictured lively discussions, and being frequently vexed. She pictured his tall, upright form and his even features. Being honest with herself, an image of him was in her mind more often than it ought to be.

What was it about Mr. Darcy that engaged her mind so? When she first saw him, it was her anger. The cruel words she overheard him say at the assembly when he told his friend, Mr. Bingley, that she wasn’t attractive enough to dance with, had been on her mind often in the earlier days of their acquaintance. Mr. Wickham’s lies had only fueled her dislike, as had Mr. Darcy’s obvious disdain for her family, visible even before he proposed to her.

Being honest with herself, Elizabeth could admit she’d lost most of her antagonism toward him, even for Jane’s sake. Her father’s death, Mr. Wickham’s lies and Lydia’s rashness had overshadowed anger toward Mr. Darcy. As the tumult and heartbreak receded, her fury didn’t return.

She turned on her side, frowning into the darkness. An image of Mr. Darcy formed in her mind, easy to call up from repeated use. Elizabeth contemplated it, seeking answers.

Mr. Darcy didn’t shine on the dance floor or in the drawing room. He was quiet on walks and seldom added humor to a situation. He was severe, even cold.

Yet, his care for Charlotte had been extraordinary and he was pleasant during their trip from Kent. He had a sister he obviously loved. He did charitable works without seeking credit.

What kind of man was he?

Elizabeth rolled onto her back, staring up into the darkness enfolding the room. Whatever sort of man Mr. Darcy was, she resolved never to misjudge him again. The next time he did something like give only a shilling to repair a roof, she would seek out all the facts for herself before forming a conclusion about his behavior.

That was, of course, assuming she ever saw Mr. Darcy again.

Elizabeth slept fitfully that night, and the next. Something about the longing, loving looks John Lucas and Miss King exchanged unsettled her. At first, Elizabeth thought it was the seriousness of her role as chaperone weighing on her, but it soon became clear one wasn’t really needed. Lady Lucas extracted promises that John Lucas and Miss King would behave, and allowed the couple private conversation as long as they were observed and not touching each other. Both seemed so grateful for even that, they didn’t attempt anything more.

Sir William sent Miss King’s uncle a letter, explaining what had happened. Her uncle responded that he’d tried to rescue his niece from an improvident marriage, but her three day, cross-country trip hopelessly compromised her. If John Lucas was willing to marry her, Miss King’s uncle would give permission, since he doubted anyone else would have her now. Undaunted by the implicit reprimand, the couple was overjoyed and the banns were read.

Chapter Fourteen

So, instead of her possibly being unhappy, you definitely are.

Darcy found it a relief when Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst left the men to their port in Darcy’s London home. Before meeting Elizabeth, Darcy hadn’t realized what dull conversationalists the two women were. That, added to Miss Bingley’s less than subtle attempts to ensnare him and Mrs. Hurst’s acrid tongue, made it all Darcy could do to sit down to dinner with them of late. He’d grown so restive with their company, he was contemplating retiring to Pemberley to avoid it.

Knowing the drinking habits of Hurst and Bingley, Darcy poured only a small amount for each of them, but left the bottle within reach of Hurst, who would sometimes refill his glass, before taking a seat. Much of the conversation at dinner had been about a certain viscount who’d put his London house and much of his unentailed land up for sale to pay off his creditors. Darcy was slightly bored with the subject, but couldn’t think of a conversation to start that didn’t pertain to Hertfordshire or the Bennet family, so remained silent.

“Rockledge had to put aside his mistress as well,” Hurst said, continuing the dinner conversation as he lounged on a deep leather couch. “You know a man is in deep when he gives up his mistress. For some, it’s the only solace they have.”

Darcy was amused Hurst had kept that point to himself until the women left, for he would wager Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were discussing the same point even now.

“I would give up a mistress long before I sold off my holdings,” Bingley said, propping his feet on a footstool.

“That’s because you’ve never had one,” Hurst supplied. “You or Darcy. Shamefully upright, the both of you.”

“You don’t have one,” Bingley pointed out.

“That’s because I’m cheap.”

Bingley chuckled. “Still, it’s a shame about his townhouse. I’m not in the market, or I’d buy it.” He frowned. “I could give up Netherfield, I suppose.”

Darcy wanted to protest severing that link to Hertfordshire, but kept his mouth closed over the too-telling words.

Hurst shook his head. “Lovely as Rockledge’s townhouse is, I don’t consider it worth the price. I wish he’d wagered it. Then I would have taken it off his hands.”

“Did he lose much to you?” Bingley asked.

“Fifty-three pounds and eight shillings total in the last year,” Hurst said. “But fifty-three pounds didn’t bankrupt the viscount, so don’t look to me.”

“You remember so exactly?” Darcy asked, surprised by how specific the number was.

“I keep track.” Hurst took another sip of his port. “Sometimes I’m required to give assurances. When I first married Louisa, she thought I lost money. I thought I didn’t, but promised her I’d keep track.”

“That sounds like my sister,” Bingley said. “Worrying about how much you spend, but not how much she spends.”

Darcy suspected that was an accurate description of both of Bingley’s sisters.

Hurst turned his glass idly in his hand. “I’m in the habit of winning. Not every day, or even every week, but every month I come out ahead.”

“I can’t imagine it matters much either way,” Bingley said. “I thought you played for small stakes.”

“I do,” Hurst said. “I don’t like to walk away from a game more than five pounds ahead, and if I lose that amount I complain.”

Bingley nodded. “As I said, small stakes.”

A sly smile flittered across Hurst’s face. “I’ll tell you how much I win if you promise to keep it to yourselves.”

Darcy nodded his assent, Hurst’s smile making him curious.

“I won’t breathe a word,” Bingley said. “Especially not to my sisters.”

Hurst’s smile widened into a grin. “I win a bit over four hundred pounds a year. Louisa thinks it’s much less, of course. I’ve been banking my winnings.”

Bingley’s feet dropped to the floor as he sat up straight. “How can you win that much?”

“I’ll play at my club in the afternoon and at someone’s house in the evening.” Hurst shrugged, reaching to refill his port. “If I lose three pounds at my club, I can make it up by winning four in the evening. My winnings are small enough so people don’t often notice.”

“I hadn’t,” Darcy confessed, impressed.

“How do you keep winning?” Bingley asked, still sounding surprised.

“I pay attention. For example, when you play whist, you sort your suits the same way, red suit, black suit, red suit, black suit. Your high cards are to your left.” Hurst looked at Darcy. “You sort by suit, but not by number, so when I watch you play, I have less information.”

“And you don’t sort at all,” Darcy said. “You give away no information, and can spend your time watching people sort.”

Hurst nodded. “I notice things. It helps me win.” He held up his glass of port. “And I drink moderately when I play.” He took a sip and set the glass down.

“You also remember every card,” Darcy said.

Hurst nodded. He’d never made a secret of that.

“I understand that helps at whist, but what about at vingt-et-un?” Bingley said. “Even I’ve noticed you have uncommon luck there.”

“That’s why I don’t play it often.” Hurst shrugged. “I keep track of what cards have been played. It doesn’t help much on the first round, but if most of the face cards have been played, I’m less likely to be dealt one.” He gave Bingley an assessing look. “If you don’t mind me saying, cards aren’t the only thing I notice.”

“What else do you notice?” Bingley asked.

“I pay attention to how people react to good hands and bad hands. It helps more than you’d think.” Hurst cast Darcy an unreadable look, then turned back to Bingley. “I’ve also noticed you aren’t happy, and I don’t think it has anything to do with losing at cards.”

“What?” Bingley sounded as startled by the words as Darcy felt.

“You’ve been my brother for two years now. I know you, Bingley, and I know you haven’t been happy since you left Netherfield Park. I gather Miss Bennet has made you unhappy.”

“No. Yes. Sort of.” Bingley slumped back in his chair. “I’ve tried to hide it. I wanted to marry her, but Darcy and my sisters said she didn’t love me.” Bingley stared at his glass of port. “I didn’t want to force her into an unhappy marriage.”

Darcy couldn’t quite hide his wince. Worse, he knew Hurst saw it, and read the guilt it indicated. Hurst regarded Darcy for a moment, eyebrows raised.

“That’s all very noble,” Hurst said, refocusing on Bingley. “So, instead of her possibly being unhappy, you definitely are.”

Bingley knocked back the rest of his port. “I don’t see what else I can do.”

“You could give her the choice,” Hurst said. “She seemed intelligent enough. I don’t think she would marry you if it would make her unhappy. If you had asked me, I would have said I thought she loved you.”

“Really?” Bingley asked, beating Darcy to the same question.

“Yes. I thought it was wrong of your sisters to conceal her presence in London last winter.”

“She was in London?” Anger touched Bingley’s tone.

“Oh yes,” Hurst said, casting Darcy a contemplative look, as if assessing whether he would come clean. “When she called on them, they were both upset. They went to great lengths to see that you didn’t find out Miss Bennet was in London.”

“They concealed that she called?” Bingley demanded, more angry now.

Darcy set his nearly untouched glass down. “I was also aware Miss Bennet was in London.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” Bingley glared at Darcy for a long moment. Finally, he thrust his empty glass in Hurst’s direction.

Hurst refilled the crystal snifter and Bingley took a large swallow.

“Your sisters and I agreed you were in danger of marrying Miss Bennet,” Darcy said. “We did not believe she loved you.”

Bingley took another sip, eyeing Darcy over the rim of his glass. Finally, he nodded. “I understand. I’m not happy, but I understand.”

“If you’re so unhappy, go back to Netherfield Park and see her.” Hurst said. “Don’t stay unhappy. Go to her and decide if you want to marry her.”

“She’s not in Hertfordshire,” Darcy said.

Hurst and Bingley both turned back to him.

“Mr. Bennet died over the summer.”

“How is it you know?” Hurst leveled too-perceptive eyes on Darcy.

Darcy resisted the urge to look away. Trying to sound casual, he said, “Mr. Collins, who you may or may not recall was rector in a parsonage in Kent, near my aunt’s estate, died unexpectedly. I was staying with my aunt at the time. When she made it clear she didn’t wish to act as his executor, I stepped in.”

Hurst frowned. “He married that friend of the Bennets, didn’t he? Collins, that is.”

“He did.” Darcy nodded. “It’s all grown a bit more complicated than I expected when I volunteered my assistance. Mr. Bennet died, and Mrs. Collins is with child. If her child is male, he will inherit Longbourn. If not, the former Mr. Collins’ younger brother, who is also a rector and who is known to me from near Pemberley, will inherit. I went to Hertfordshire to ensure Mrs. Collins’ interests are being preserved.”

“How very noble of you.” Hurst sounded amused.

“You should have told me you were headed to Hertfordshire,” Bingley said. “I would have offered you Netherfield, and possibly joined you.”

“Yes, Darcy, why didn’t you tell us so Bingley could offer you Netherfield?” Hurst’s tone said he suspected why and found the notion entertaining.

Darcy elected to change the subject. “Due to all of that, Miss Bennet is with her London uncle, and the rest of the family has scattered.”

“Miss Bennet is somewhere in London.” Bingley sounded excited, but his smile fell. “I would like to see her, but I would never be able to find her.”

“She’s living with a family named Gardiner,” Hurst said. He rattled off an address.

“How do you know that?” Bingley asked.

“I heard her give my wife the information.” Hurst shrugged. “I thought it might matter, so I made a point of remembering.”

“Do you think I should visit her?” Bingley asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said.

Both men looked at him in surprise.

Darcy felt a bit uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but he owned Bingley his honesty. “If you were unhappy for a month, that wouldn’t have meant much. Now, your feelings have the test of time.”

“What if you and my sisters were right the first time?” Bingley asked. “What if she doesn’t love me, but marries me for my wealth? With her father gone, she must be increasingly desperate.”

Darcy shrugged. “If she married you for security, you still might be happy. Both of you might be happy.”

“Louisa married me for my family,” Hurst said.

Darcy knew Hurst’s parents were both descended from titled people, and the current holders of the titles recognized him as their relative. Hurst didn’t have much money, but that was partially solved by Louisa Hurst’s dowry.

Bingley grimaced. “Now, you know that isn’t strictly--”

Hurst held up a staying hand. “She didn’t love me. She still doesn’t, but I’m happy with her and she isn’t unhappy with me. That’s partly because she got the connections she wished for by marrying me, and partly because we keep out of each other’s way.”

“It’s more than that,” Bingley said. “You know my father was in trade?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. He was surprised that Bingley brought it up.

Hurst nodded. “Of course.”

“Not that it’s any of my concern, but I know you’re faithful to Louisa and that’s a large part of her happiness. People in trade aren’t as forgiving about the lapses of the married, or unmarried.” Bingley turned to Darcy. “You may laugh, but my sister Caroline isn’t just after you for your money or your name. She wants a husband who is morally upright. She hides it because she knows it isn’t fashionable.”

Darcy considered that for a moment. He hadn’t realized not keeping a mistress endeared him to Miss Bingley. He realized his thoughtfulness might be construed as consideration and hastened to clarify, “I’m still not interested in her.”

“I know that, even if Caroline doesn’t.” Bingley offered a sympathetic grin before turning thoughtful once more. “One of the reasons I fell in love with Miss Bennet was that I knew I would never have to worry about her doing anything wrong. She is genuinely good.” He looked at Darcy and Hurst, his expression still contemplative. “Would the two of you join me when I visit the Gardiners? I might change my mind when I see her again. It will look less like a courtship if I have company.”

Chapter Fifteen

He knew himself to be superior to most people.

The following day, standing before a large mirror in his dressing room as he readied to visit the Gardiners, Darcy’s mind wandered back over his conversation with Bingley and Hurst. It was odd Hurst, who seemed so casual in the way he lived, was focused enough to make money from cards. It was also, Darcy realized, strange he’d never correlated Hurst’s ability to almost flawlessly remember cards with a memory for other things, like the Gardiner’s address.

Darcy gave a murmur of thanks as his valet helped him into his coat. Hurst had mentioned thinking the Gardiner’s address might be important. That somewhat accounted for his memory of it. A man focused on what mattered to him.

Darcy frowned, adjusting his cravat. What did that say about what he found important? Darcy knew every tenant and all their family members, but when the irresponsible Viscount Rockledge was first mentioned the night before, he’d forgotten the man had a wife and children. What did it say about Darcy that he didn’t remember the people of his own class?

Yet he judged people by class. He considered himself to be . . . No, he knew himself to be superior to most people. What did Elizabeth say about him once? He was ‘a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world.’ Darcy frowned. He had to be more than that. He knew his manners weren’t conciliatory, but they were correct. There was something to be said for correctness, wasn’t there?

Or were his manners not as correct as he believed? They antagonized people, which didn’t seem the overall goal of manners. It was the way he chose to employ them, though, not fault in the theory behind them, which provoked. Why did he do that? He was smart enough to know what he was doing. He was smarter than Bingley. Why couldn’t Darcy use his intelligence to make himself popular? Why not make people like him, not his position, or at least use his mind to win money at cards?

The answer was glaringly obvious. He didn’t care. He cared about the people he was responsible for. Not their opinions, but their wellbeing. There were few of any rank whose opinion of him mattered to Darcy. It was a simple fact that he was happier helping his workers than he was winning at cards. He was happier helping Mrs. Collins than he was attending a party.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy many of the activities of his class. He took pleasure in riding, fishing and hunting. He valued walking outdoors, especially the grounds of Pemberley. He very much enjoyed verbally fencing with Elizabeth. He liked watching her.

Accepting his hat and gloves from his valet, Darcy wondered if he would have been happy if Elizabeth had agreed to marry him for financial security, the way Mrs. Hurst had married for the elevation of Hurst’s connections. Darcy gave his valet a nod, leaving the room and heading downstairs.

No, he wouldn’t be happy with that. Not so much because of her marrying him without love, something he’d all but resigned himself to in a wife, but because Elizabeth wouldn’t be who she was if she did so. She was one who would not settle for security alone.

He admired her spirit and independence. How much spirit and independence could she keep at the Lucases? How long would they be happy to keep her before she must return to living with her mother?

Darcy nodded to his butler, who opened the door for him, and descended the steps of his London home toward his carriage. Why must Elizabeth always come into his mind? He should forget her.

That was more easily thought than accomplished, however, especially as he gathered Bingley and Hurst for their visit to Elizabeth’s uncle and his family. How could Elizabeth be far from his mind on such a journey, and when Darcy must speak of her youngest sister. For, after thought, Darcy deemed Bingley should know of the scandal before possibly reattaching himself to Miss Bennet.

“There’s a situation, of sorts, I feel I should alert you to, Bingley.” Darcy didn’t believe in a preamble. A thing must be said. Dithering wouldn’t soften the news. “Miss Bennet’s youngest sister, Lydia, eloped with Mr. Wickham, several months ago. They did marry, but it was rather belated.”

Bingley blinked, looking like an owl. “They did marry?”

Darcy nodded.

“Wickham doesn’t seem like the sort to marry once he’s had his fun,” Hurst said, his eyes suddenly shrewd as he looked at Darcy. “You had a hand in it?”

Darcy gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Did you pay to make the marriage take place?” Hurst pressed.

“Yes.”

“How did you know that, Hurst?” Bingley looked between the two in confusion.

“It’s Darcy’s nature. He has an exaggerated sense of responsibility.” Hurst leaned back, appearing casual. The eyes he leveled on Darcy were slightly amused once more, as if he knew more than he’d said.

“Wickham isn’t your responsibility, Darcy, and Lydia Wickham certainly isn’t,” Bingley protested.

“Wickham was, in a way. My father made him what he is: a man who can pass for a gentleman. Somehow, the morals that should go with a gentleman didn’t stick. At least he can’t marry another unsuspecting woman.”

“Will you continue to support him?” Bingley asked, looking troubled.

“No, and he’s aware of that.” Darcy offered another shrug. “I’ve taken him out of the market, so to speak. I’ve done more than enough.”

“If you marry Miss Bennet, would Louisa and I meet Mr. or Mrs. Wickham in your home?” Hurst asked, sounding almost bored. “Louisa wouldn’t be happy.”

“No,” Bingley said slowly. “I wouldn’t want to make either of my sisters uncomfortable. Or you, Darcy. I can’t imagine you’d care to see the man again.”

“I can see why you brought it up, Darcy,” Hurst said, his amusement returning. “I would certainly think twice about marrying a woman now related to Mr. Wickham. Wouldn’t you, Darcy?”

Darcy was saved from answering that overly-astute question by their arrival at the Gardiner home. The carriage pulled to a halt and Darcy wondered if he could be happy visiting there. The street was a mixture of businesses and residences. No one in his class would be comfortable living in the area.

The three of them disembarked, Bingley leading the way up the steps. Instead of a butler answering the door, a housemaid opened it and invited them in without verifying they would be welcome. Darcy suspected their obvious wealth had something to do with that, but her actions emphasized that he had descended to a class with which he was unfamiliar. The Gardiners weren’t remotely of a level to be considered his equals.

Somehow, with the dispensing of outer garments, Darcy ended up directly behind the maid. She led them to a moderate sized drawing room, in which Miss Bennet and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were seated. As he entered, Miss Bennet offered a friendly smile.

Darcy couldn’t imagine what business she had smiling at him. He was never kind to her, beyond common politeness. Did she smile at everyone? She also smiled at Hurst, who followed Darcy in. She had no discrimination at all.

Then she saw Bingley. The smiles before were inadequate imitations of her expression compared to what she offered Bingley. Her face showed sheer joy, even though she should be angry with him, or at the very least, suspect there would be nothing between them.

Darcy felt a stab of envy. If Elizabeth ever smiled like that at him, he would be preparing the marriage contract. Any doubts he had about Miss Bennet’s attitude toward Bingley disappeared. Radiant was an insufficient word to describe how she looked.

The look lasted only seconds. With obvious effort, she schooled her features. She greeted them equally, with controlled politeness.

Darcy doubted it surprised anyone in the room that Bingley took the chair closest to Miss Bennet. The conversation was general at first, but Hurst said something to Mrs. Gardiner while Darcy was listening to Mr. Gardiner. It surprised Darcy, because Hurst was usually quite silent around women, until Darcy realized the goal was to assist Bingley in speaking privately with Miss Bennet. Darcy doubled his efforts at occupying Mr. Gardiner, determined to be a good friend, but soon found no effort was required at all. It wasn’t a strain to engage Mr. Gardiner. He was both intelligent and interesting.

Mr. Gardiner was sufficiently engrossing that Darcy found himself drawn into easy conversation. Mr. Gardiner participated in several charities in London. Poverty in London was more nuanced than poverty in Derbyshire, and Mr. Gardiner well versed in the organizations he supported. Darcy was interested in attempts to alleviate the misery of the poor and pleased to give and receive details about how to accomplish this in both places. Darcy did, of course, give to London charities but in London, he gave money without much oversight. He depended on others to see it was well spent. Mr. Gardiner gave as much thought to how best to spend his charity money in London as Darcy did to his efforts in Derbyshire.

It would have been correct to leave after fifteen minutes. A half an hour would have been acceptable. Darcy forgot to check the time, however, and before he knew it, they were invited for dinner and had accepted. There was only one course and it was served by a single servant, but the food was good and the company better.

When they finally left, Darcy was certain of three things. The first two were that Bingley was very likely to marry Miss Bennet and that Darcy had greatly enjoyed the evening. The third was less easy to wrap his mind around. After meeting the Gardiners and seeing the happiness Bingley and Miss Bennet shared, Darcy realized he couldn’t give up the idea of Elizabeth in his life. The trouble was, then, how to convince her to accept him.

The following day brought the usual slew of invitations and business correspondence, but also two letters of great interest to Darcy. The first was from Mr. Collins. After apologizing for taking the liberty of writing, Mr. Collins said,

I am not certain of how to handle a situation which has arisen. Longbourn House was broken into last night and some silver platters were stolen. Mrs. Collins has kindly not blamed me, but I feel responsible. I doubt I can afford to replace what was lost, and no one really knows the value of what was taken. I am concerned that there may be a repetition of this, since it was done so easily, without anyone noticing anything amiss until morning. I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to how to proceed, and hoped you might offer an opinion. I trust you to have both fairness and the interests of the estate at heart.

Darcy smiled as he set down the letter, though he knew it wasn’t kind to find happiness in the plight of others. Mr. Collins’ request gave him all the excuse he needed. Darcy would go to Hertfordshire.

He read the second letter with a light heart. It gave him an even better excuse, for now he assuredly needed to speak with Mrs. Collins. The letter was from Lady Catherine.

Chapter Sixteen

“You should not reveal things to his detriment.”

“Even if they’re true?”

“Especially if they are true. A lie can be countered.”

Elizabeth was unsure of her emotions when Lady Lucas told everyone Mr. Darcy wrote his intention of visiting to assess the situation which had arisen with the stolen silver. She realized she looked forward to seeing him, though she was embarrassed at having misjudged him again. At least, when it came to the shilling he’d donated to assist the Millers, she’d kept her negative thoughts to herself. She was spared anyone knowing she’d judged Mr. Darcy and sentenced him to be someone she disliked for his lack of charity, when really he’d done far more to fix the problem than anyone could have imagined.

The day Mr. Darcy was to arrive, Elizabeth found herself oddly agitated. She wasn’t sure why she must keep checking for his carriage, or couldn’t focus on her reading. It must, she concluded, be out of worry he would somehow know she’d misjudged him yet again. He had a harsh tongue when he was of a mind, as she well knew.

She tried to calm herself, taking up a post in the window seat of the parlor, where she could check for his arrival without it being noticed. Lady Lucas and Charlotte sat on a large sofa opposite her. Maria and Susan were both reading on another, while Arthur arranged toy soldiers on the carpet, out of the way in a corner. John Lucas and Miss King were out visiting some old friends of hers, driving in an open phaeton, as close to being alone as they were permitted. Sir William had retreated to his office.

A knock at the door made Elizabeth start. She pulled back the curtain, but it was only the mail. Elizabeth dropped the curtain back in place, suppressing the urge to sigh. She opened her book to attempt reading the same page she’d been staring at all day. One of the Lucas’ maids appeared a moment later. To Elizabeth’s surprise, she was offered a letter.

Taking in Jane’s handwriting, Elizabeth opened the missive with mild trepidation. Jane hadn’t been happy since Mr. Bingley’s desertion, her state made worse by the loss of their father and her exile from her sisters. Jane’s false cheer was the sort of thing that would dampen Elizabeth’s mood and prejudice her against Mr. Darcy, whom she wished to look on with a clear eye for once, if possible.

The opening line of Jane’s letter, nearly bereft even of salutation, shot Elizabeth to her feet. “Mr. Bingley and I are engaged,” Elizabeth read aloud, unable to contain herself.

“I beg your pardon, dear?” Lady Lucas said, looking up from her needlework.

Maria, Susan and Arthur stared at her with wide eyes. Charlotte offered a happy smile. She, at least, didn’t appear at all shocked, likely understanding Elizabeth read from the page she held.

“I don’t mean me.” Elizabeth laughed, realizing the confusion she’d created. “It’s from Jane. Jane says she and Mr. Bingley are engaged.”

“Why, that’s marvelous news,” Lady Lucas said, her smile broad.

Elizabeth hugged the letter to her chest. “It is. It’s wonderful. She sounds so happy.” She held the pages out to read, then looked up. “I’m sorry. Please don’t let me keep you from your tasks. I really should have controlled myself. My mother will want to give the news.”

Lady Lucas gave a reassuring smile, returning to her work. Maria and Susan began whispering rapidly. Arthur took Elizabeth at her word and went back to his game. Charlotte met her eyes with a pleased smile before applying herself to the blanket she was creating.

Elizabeth retook the window seat, though what she wished to do was run about the countryside shouting for joy. She smoothed Jane’s letter, starting from the beginning.

Mr. Bingley and I are engaged! I had given up on ever seeing him again, but five days ago, he called on us with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. Within an hour, it was like we’d never been separated. I didn’t write you earlier because I was so uncertain it would last, but he asked me to marry him and of course I said yes. Uncle Gardiner says that since I am of age, we don’t need Mama’s permission, but he is certain she will give it.

Elizabeth had to suppress a chuckle at that. Since Jane had undoubtedly written their mother in the same post, Elizabeth expected Mrs. Bennet would be spreading the news as fast and as far as she could. Jane’s letter went on to express her joy and her thanks to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. She said Mr. Bingley told her both men wholeheartedly encouraged him to visit her.

Joy was like a living thing inside Elizabeth, urging her to leap into the air or run about the room singing, but she contained herself to the window seat. She alternated between rereading Jane’s letter and scanning the yard for signs of Mr. Darcy’s carriage. An odd fluttering filled her at the thought of meeting him now, with her greatest objection to him remedied. She would never have taken him for a man who would so unbend from his judgement as to remedy an error his prejudice had led him to.

Despite all her searching, Elizabeth was reading Jane’s letter again when Mr. Darcy was announced and shown into the parlor, Sir William on his heels. She, along with everyone else, stood to greet him. Though she knew it was poor manners, she couldn’t contain a radiant smile as he nodded to her. Jane would be happy and well, and Mr. Darcy had a hand in that.

There was a commotion without and Elizabeth could hear her mother’s grating tones, though the words were still garbled. Everyone turned toward the sound except Mr. Darcy, who crossed to stand before Elizabeth.

She’d forgotten how tall he was, she realized, looking up at him. His eyes were intent as he studied her face. His gaze lingered on her smile.

“Miss Bennet, you seem in fine spirits today.”

His voice was low, containing an odd note she couldn’t identify. Behind him, her mother burst into the room.

“I have news,” Mrs. Bennet crowed, waving a letter in the air. “Wonderful news.”

“You must know the source of my happiness, sir.” Elizabeth kept her words quiet as well, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation, oddly intimate, for all they were in a room full of people.

“Must I?” If anything, the intensity in his gaze grew.

“You are the source of it.” The fluttering inside her increased, when he looked at her that way. She was aware of a great deal of talking going on behind Mr. Darcy, most of it in her mother’s voice, but couldn’t focus on those words when he stood before her as he did.

“Me?”

“Well, much of the source.” She searched his face, seeking comprehension, but finding only banked fires burning in his eyes. “You and Mr. Hurst. You must know Jane is engaged to Mr. Bingley. She wrote that you and Mr. Hurst are much to thank for it.”

Mr. Darcy was silent. He blinked once. “Your sister’s engagement is the source of your excessive good humor?”

Elizabeth’s smile returned. “How else could it be? And you are responsible for it, sir. Do not be modest in this instance. I wish to thank you with all sincerity.” She touched his arm lightly.

He looked down at her fingers. Elizabeth felt something shift in his mood and dropped her hand, realizing she was being too forward, made silly by her joy. She muted her smile. Her praise and behavior embarrassed him. She should have expected it would, for a man who would buy apple trees and lightning rods without publicizing it obviously wished to avoid thanks.

“Don’t worry. I shall not praise you to the room.” She sought to reassure him. “I’ve learned you prefer to keep your good deeds to yourself.”

He nodded, turning so he stood beside her, facing the others. Elizabeth was aware something had cooled between them. She wasn’t certain why, or even what it was, but she felt the loss keenly.

“Mr. Darcy, I did not see you there,” Mrs. Bennet said. Her expression moved rapidly from surprise to suspicion. “If you’re here to come between Jane and Mr. Bingley, you’re too late. I have it in writing. They’ll be married.” She waved the letter in the air.

Elizabeth blushed. She hoped Mr. Darcy didn’t think she’d been spreading tales about him, for she’d not. Her mother had stumbled upon the idea on her own. “Mama, I’m sure that is not Mr. Darcy’s intention.”

“I saw the way he looked at them dancing together, him and those horrible women Mr. Bingley is related to. I have eyes, Lizzy.” Mrs. Bennet marched across the room toward them. “There’s no stopping the union now. My Jane will be rich.”

Elizabeth winced, wishing her mother wouldn’t say such vulgar things.

“I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, I have not come to interfere in Miss Bennet’s and Bingley’s plans.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was polite, which was more than Elizabeth felt.

“Mama, didn’t Jane write you that Mr. Darcy encouraged Mr. Bingley to visit her?” she said.

Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “She did, but I don’t credit it. It’s just her forgiving nature. When I took the news to the Phillips, we all agreed Mr. Darcy didn’t do any such thing.”

Elizabeth doubted that was true, at least of her uncle and Mary. “Mama,” Elizabeth said, her tone beseeching. Behind her mother, she could see Sir William, Lady Lucas, Charlotte, Maria and Susan all staring. Arthur had taken the distraction of the adults as opportunity to keep playing his game.

“I don’t see why you’re taking his side, Lizzy. Especially after the horrible thing he said about you at the assembly.”

Heat shot through Elizabeth’s face. She caught Mr. Darcy frowning at her and looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Why must her mother ruin the happiness of this day with her venom and foolishness?

Mrs. Bennet leaned toward Mr. Darcy. “Jane is marrying Mr. Bingley. You may as well leave, sir, for you will not succeed.”

“Now, Mrs. Bennet--” Sir William said.

Elizabeth’s mother whirled back around. “I demand you throw this man out of your home,” Mrs. Bennet said, cutting off Sir William. “If ever you were a friend to me and my daughters, you will cast him out.”

“Mrs. Bennet,” Lady Lucas’ tone was firm. “Mr. Darcy is not here for anything to do with Jane or Mr. Bingley. He is here . . .” She trailed off.

“I see.” Mrs. Bennet cried. “He’s here about the home your daughter robbed me of. Well, I don’t care. She may have it. Our worries are over. I will live with Jane and Mr. Bingley at Netherfield Park. My Lydia will return, for I’m sure Jane will want all of her sisters with her. Bingley will give money to Mr. Wickham so they needn’t sully themselves with menial tasks any longer and they will find a home in Meryton.”

“I wouldn’t assume any of those things will happen with the marriage,” Mr. Darcy said in a quiet voice. “Particularly pertaining to Mr. Wickham.”

“Who asked you?” Mrs. Bennet said, turning back to face him. “You’re the one responsible for Mr. Wickham’s poverty to begin with.”

“Mama,” Elizabeth cried, putting all the reprimand and warning she could into that word. She looked at Mr. Darcy, beseeching his forgiveness. She wondered if she should explain about Mr. Wickham’s accepting money to give up the living. Mr. Darcy gave a minute shake of his head. “Mama, stop this unbecoming nonsense this moment. I cannot believe you are standing here, insulting a man like Mr. Darcy. He’s told you he will not interfere with Jane and Mr. Bingley. You must take him at his word, for he is a gentleman.”

“I don’t see why you’re taking his side, Lizzy, but then you always did think you were better than the rest of us.” The scowl on her mother’s face pulled the lines of it downward into a parody of anger. “And you still do, living here in this fancy house with the very people who took our home away from us, leaving poor Kitty and me desolate, Jane banished, and my perfect darling Lydia forced to work for her bread. Work.” This last, Mrs. Bennet all but sobbed.

Elizabeth scanned the faces behind her mother. The Lucas family, even Arthur, stared with looks ranging from shock to pity. She didn’t know which was worse, truly. To see them still startled by her mother’s vitriol, even for all the years they’d known Mrs. Bennet, or to have them pity her for her mother’s terrible behavior. Mr. Darcy, for his part, had a face like stone.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself, Elizabeth?” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “Do you not care that you break your mother’s heart by being here with these people? Oh, you wish I had died. I can see it on your face. Me, and not your father.”

Elizabeth clenched her fists, eyeing her sobbing mother. “Sometimes, yes.” Turning on her heels, she stalked from the room, her mother’s wails following her out.

Not sure where she was going, Elizabeth marched down the hall and out the front door, ignoring the startled servants she passed. With long strides, she was quickly around Mr. Darcy’s carriage, cutting across the yard to set off up a steep hill. She needed the challenge of the incline to help clear her head.

She crested the small knoll, finding the wind blowing steadily there. Elizabeth wrapped her arms about herself, trying to settle breath made ragged more by anger than exertion. As she did, she shivered. The sun was sinking and the whirling wind taking on the chill of night.

Legs swishing through the tall grass caused her to look over her shoulder. Mr. Darcy approached, carrying her shawl. He came to stand beside her, offering it. Elizabeth accepted, unable to muster a smile, and wrapped it about her shoulders. They stood in silence for a long moment, eyes turned toward the setting sun.

“She is wrong on so many counts,” Elizabeth finally said. “Why did you not wish me to set her straight on Mr. Wickham, at least? The whole county should know he lied about you.”

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “There’s no point in saying anything. Mr. Wickham is now your brother and you should not reveal things to his detriment.”

“Even if they’re true?” And defaming you. She didn’t say it aloud, sure he didn’t care for his own reputation. At least, not among people who would so easily believe ill of him, as she had. She bit her lip.

“Especially if they are true. A lie can be countered.” He offered a wry smile. “Besides, I don’t think your mother will be swayed by facts.”

“She’s never been in the past.” Elizabeth kept her eyes on the sky and clouds, too embarrassed to meet his. “My family . . . I am constantly embarrassed by them.”

“As the nephew of Lady Catherine, I can sympathize.”

“But she has rank,” Elizabeth protested. Was that not something Mr. Darcy respected?

“But not manners.”

“She is a little overbearing,” Elizabeth temporized, not wanting to add more insults to what her mother had already subjected him to.

“A little?” He sounded amused.

Elizabeth dared to look at him. He was smiling. The expression looked right on his face. She hadn’t expected it would. It drew an answering smile from her. “All right, she is very overbearing, but you never seemed embarrassed by her.”

“I hide it well.”

She searched his face, seeing sincerity coupled with dry humor. More than that, the odd look was back in his eyes. It reawakened the fluttering feeling inside her. Her heart took up a dizzying beat.

Elizabeth looked away, confused by the sensations, and sought steadier ground. “I can’t think Mr. Bingley should be responsible for Mr. Wickham.”

“Mr. Bingley is quite capable of telling Mr. Wickham no. He had no reason to show that side of him, but he does not approve of the kind of behavior that Mr. Wickham and your sister indulged in. Aside from the other moral implications, they caused their families much pain. Mr. Bingley won’t forget that.”

“Neither will you,” Elizabeth said, her voice soft.

“No, I will not.” His tone was implacable.

Nor would he likely ever forgive her, Elizabeth realized. She’d insulted him gravely, and for the most part, erroneously. Even his true offenses, his arrogance, his words about her family and his treatment of Jane, were not as they’d seemed. He wasn’t so haughty as she’d thought, he’d rectified Jane’s state, and as for what he’d said about her mother . . . could it be that wrong if it was quite so true?

“I’m sorry for my words about you at the assembly.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was tentative. “You should know, I didn’t mean them. I was lashing out and it was unfair of me to include you in my ire.”

“At least you didn’t believe lies about me robbing a man of his inheritance,” she whispered, ashamed of herself. No, Mr. Darcy would never forgive her. For some reason, the thought settled a crushing weight on her chest. Tears started to form behind her eyes. She felt as if she’d lost something very valuable. It wasn’t fair, for she hadn’t know it was hers to lose, or that she wanted it, until it was gone.

“Miss Bennet, I--”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Please, I would like time alone.” She didn’t want Mr. Darcy to see her cry. She wouldn’t have him pity her too.

He nodded. After a moment, he turned on his heels and walked away. The emptiness where he’d stood loomed huge beside her. Elizabeth closed her eyes, letting her tears fall.

Chapter Seventeen

He’s very good at remembering what she reminds him to do.

The next morning at breakfast, Darcy found Elizabeth avoiding his eye. He was dismayed, unsure where he’d stepped wrong this time. He glanced around the table, still surprised to find Miss King there, seated beside Mr. Lucas. That had been an additional surprise for Darcy, the two arriving at Lucas Lodge just in time for dinner the evening before.

He’d no idea Miss King was staying with the Lucases. A question to Mrs. Collins during their meeting regarding his aunt’s letter the previous day revealed the two were engaged, but Darcy hadn’t pressed for details. He hadn’t even thought to ask about the break-in at Longbourn, his mind too full of thoughts of Elizabeth to hold much else. Now, he sought to remedy that, for the break-in was much of his excuse for being there. When a pause in the conversation came he asked, “May I have details of the break-in at Longbourn?”

Mr. Lucas set down his coffee and turned to Darcy. “I went over to take a look. Someone broke the glass of a ground floor window. In the dining room, actually. They opened it, and climbed in. They didn’t ransack the house, but took a few valuable items.”

“Housebreaking is a hanging offense,” Miss King said. “I’m surprised they risked it.”

“It was a risk only if they got caught,” Lady Lucas said. “I understand from the footprints it seems there were two people involved.”

“It looked like it,” Mr. Lucas said.

“Is this type of crime common here?” Darcy asked.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Collins said. “That’s why everyone is so shocked.”

Darcy looked to Elizabeth, hoping she would offer an opinion. She was pushing food about on her plate. He turned to Sir William. “Why do you think it happened? Is it because Mr. Collins isn’t looked on as part of the community?”

“Probably not,” Sir William said. “He hired some of the Bennet’s older servants as an act of charity. Mr. Bennet’s butler is on the wrong side of fifty and probably couldn’t get another job. It’s shameful that he was left only ten pounds in Mr. Bennet’s will.”

Darcy agreed, but held his tongue. He resolved to have one of his men inquire into the former Bennet servants. Anyone who’d put up with Mrs. Bennet for years deserved proper compensation to retire on.

“And therein lies the problem,” Lady Lucas said. Everyone turned to her, even Elizabeth. Lady Lucas shrugged. “Not Mr. Bennet’s will, but the servants. Mr. Collins only has three and they sleep in the attic. No one would expect them to be downstairs at night. Mr. Collins is sleeping in a room in the back of the house. The dining room is in the front. He should hire two manservants and have one of them patrol at night. That would keep away housebreakers.”

Elizabeth dropped her eyes back to her plate.

Lady Lucas’ suggestion made sense to Darcy. He looked to find Mrs. Collins watching him. “You should authorize the expense.” Darcy kept his tone even, but he was sorry to have the solution presented so quickly, and almost annoyed at Lady Lucas for having done so. He wanted an excuse to stay longer.

“Shall we call on Mr. Collins, then?” Mrs. Collins asked.

Darcy eyed her increased roundness. The baby was due soon. “I will call on him for you, if that is acceptable.”

She offered a grateful smile. “It very much is. Thank you.”

Darcy rode over to Longbourn shortly after breakfast, borrowing a mount from Mr. Lucas. It wasn’t the best steed, but far preferable to time spent in a carriage on a lovely day. To Darcy’s surprise, he never made it to his destination. He found Mr. Collins coming down the lane.

“Mr. Collins,” he greeted, reining in the horse and dismounting. A quiet tempered beast, it immediately started sniffing the ground for grazing.

“Mr. Darcy. I heard you’d come. Thank you.”

“May I have a word if you’ve time?”

“If you don’t mind walking with me toward Pine Cottage.”

“Pine Cottage? We’d best speak here. You won’t endear yourself to Mrs. Bennet if you’re seen with me,” Darcy added, by way of apology.

“I’m afraid nothing will ever endear me to her, though I’m doing my best.”

“You visit Pine Cottage often, then?”

Mr. Collins looked down, not quite hiding his smile. “I visit Miss Kitty Bennet, often.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows, recalling the two walking in the field. He’d been so focused on Elizabeth at the time, he hadn’t given much thought to Miss Kitty and Mr. Collins going off on their own.

“But you’re here about the silver,” Mr. Collins prompted.

“Yes,” Darcy said, allowing the conversation to return to his original purpose. “While we all concede it was someone local, who knew the state of the house and where the silver was likely kept, we don’t feel there is any animosity toward you in the community.”

Mr. Collins looked surprised. “I hadn’t considered there might be. I don’t believe there is.”

Darcy nodded. Collins was a good man and commanded more sympathy than hostility. “Therefore, we surmise two additional staff are all that’s needed. Footmen, to take turns patrolling the house at night. Mrs. Collins agrees with the expense.” Darcy thought it likely former servants who hadn’t found employment might be the source of the theft, but didn’t want to accuse anyone without evidence.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mr. Collins looked relieved. “I was hoping she would conclude as much. I already have a couple men in mind. Kitty, that is, Miss Kitty, helped me with the selection. She knows everyone, and has a clear head on her shoulders.”

Darcy hadn’t thought of Miss Kitty that way, but recalled her reasonable seeming behavior the day the four of them had walked together. Perhaps, with added responsibilities and away from the influence of her younger sister, Miss Kitty was maturing. He liked to hope so. “Then we’re all in agreement and you’ll see to it?”

“I will.”

Darcy looked up and down the lane. It was still early. Early enough for him to return to London, but he didn’t wish to. “I wish you luck at Pine Cottage.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mr. Collins bowed, heading off down the lane.

Darcy remounted. As he rode back, he decided he would stay another day. He needn’t fabricate an excuse. No one would ask why he remained until morning. It would be rude to do so, after all.

He returned to find the entire Lucas family, along with Miss King and Elizabeth, all seated in the parlor. Mrs. Collins looked up expectantly as he entered, not rising to greet him along with everyone else, for which he was pleased. In her state, she shouldn’t exert herself.

“It’s all seen to,” Darcy admitted. He looked about the room. There was nowhere near Elizabeth to sit. Despite his earlier resolve, he felt the pressure of everyone waiting for him to announce his departure, as he normally would do.

“Thank you again, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said.

Darcy turned back to her, realizing he’d been staring at Elizabeth. “It was my pleasure.”

“It is a fine day?” Mrs. Collins asked.

“It is.” His gaze strayed to Elizabeth. She looked pale. He hoped she was well.

“If I were able, I should take a walk. It’s a shame none of you are out enjoying this weather,” Mrs. Collins declared with a slight smile.

Miss Lucas leaned toward Miss Susan, whispering something.

“Don’t whisper in company, dears, is isn’t polite,” Lady Lucas said.

“We should like to go for a walk,” Miss Lucas said, looking from Mrs. Collins to her mother.

“It would be lovely,” Miss Susan said.

“We’ll join you,” Mr. Lucas offered, nodding to Miss King, beside him.

“Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth?” Mrs. Collins asked.

“That would be pleasant, thank you,” Darcy said.

Elizabeth gave a shake of her head.

Darcy frowned. Elizabeth always wished to walk. Was she avoiding him? If he’d thought she would refuse, he would have as well. Across from Elizabeth, Mrs. Collins frowned, but kept silent on the nature of her displeasure.

There was a bustle as everyone made ready to go out. Darcy put a polite smile on his face, to hide his annoyance. What good was there in managing to stay another day if he wasn’t afforded the chance to pursue his true goal of winning over Elizabeth?

They were halfway down the lane, Darcy walking last and alone, when Elizabeth caught up to them. She offered a tentative smile, falling in step with him. Darcy felt an easiness come over him at her presence, shortening his stride to match hers.

Casting a mischievous look over her shoulder, Miss King broke into a run. Laughing, Mr. Lucas took off after her. They sped up the roadway, turning off ahead, leaving the others behind.

Darcy shook his head at their lack of subtlety. Miss Lucas turned back to them, she and Miss Susan stopping. They wore matching smiles as Darcy and Elizabeth caught up to them.

“We’re not really taking a walk with you,” Miss Lucas said.

Miss Susan shook her head, curls bouncing under her hat. “We’re going to Meryton.”

“Your mother knows?” Elizabeth asked, her tone stern.

“I’m sure she does.” Miss Lucas grinned.

“Mama always knows everything, just like Charlotte,” Miss Susan added.

“I see.” Elizabeth sounded grave, but Darcy caught a glint in her eyes. “Off with you, then. We shall follow the path your brother and Miss King took, to Oakham Mount. They ought not be left alone for too long.”

Miss Lucas shrugged. “They’ll be married soon.”

“They aren’t married yet,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t be too long, and stay together.”

“We will. It’s only Meryton,” Miss Susan said with a roll of her eyes.

The two girls skipped off, hand in hand, leaving Darcy quite alone with Elizabeth. The moment they were gone, he felt Elizabeth close in on herself once more, all liveliness quenched. It was very obvious she was trying not to look at him.

Darcy resumed walking, unsure if he should break the silence. He knew Elizabeth was distressed over the previous day, but wasn’t sure exactly why or how to handle her mood. Whatever had upset her, he thought he should tread carefully. She seemed too wounded for him to even hint at something resembling courtship.

“I’m not remotely objecting, but I thought we were walking together,” Darcy said. “As soon as we were out of sight of the house, everyone else left. I’m not certain you even wished to come along.”

She looked down. “I meant to stay home and help with the housework, especially with Charlotte able to do less lately, but she said I must go along, and Lady Lucas insisted I would be needed to entertain you.”

“Did she?” Darcy wondered if Lady Lucas was being a thorough hostess, or if he lacked the subtlety to keep his feelings for Elizabeth hidden. If Lady Lucas and Mrs. Collins could see into his heart, could Elizabeth? Was that the reason she seemed to be avoiding him? Not because of the fracas with her mother the day before, but because she wished to stave off another embarrassing proposal?

“She knew Mary and John wanted to be alone together, and that Maria and Susan have discovered a shop in Meryton recently received a shipment of muslin.”

“A shipment of muslin?” That seemed hardly worth the trouble.

“This isn’t London. Whoever gets there earliest gets the best choice.”

Darcy nodded, hoping he hadn’t offended her by not seeing that. “Of course.”

“In theory, John and Mary are supposed to be chaperoned and the Miss Lucases are supposed to put entertaining you over their desire for muslin, but Lady Lucas is a realist, so she insisted I join you.”

He was relieved at her words. His secret was still his. Lady Lucas was simply being a good hostess. “Will Miss King and Mr. Lucas actually go to Oakham Mount?”

“Yes, because Sir William will ask them about it and they won’t lie. If he doesn’t ask, Lady Lucas will, but I suspect she will remind him to. I’ve learned he’s very good at remembering what she reminds him to do.” Elizabeth added to that a slight smile, which Darcy found tantalizing.

“I’m a little confused about a couple of things,” he said, seeking safe ground and hoping to earn another smile. “I’ve met Lady Lucas in company, and she didn’t seem as capable as she does now that I’ve stayed in Lucas Lodge. Why does she act so differently in her own home than in public? Also, I’m sure I would know this if I paid attention to general gossip, but how did Miss King come to be living in Lucas Lodge?”

“It’s to your credit not to listen to enough gossip to know why Miss King is with the Lucases.” Elizabeth offered a second hesitant smile. “I’m afraid it’s partially my fault, though that’s not common knowledge, even to the family.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” he said, not wanting her to feel pressed to divulge anything to him. They turned off the lane onto the trail Mr. Lucas and Miss King had taken.

Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s nothing untoward. John Lucas was bemoaning his love for Miss King to me. I suggested that, if he loved her, he should go after her. He said Mr. Wickham had swept her away and convinced her and her uncle that all men were fortune hunters.” She shot Darcy an apologetic glance.

He kept his face expressionless. If he was to marry Elizabeth and maintain his friendship with Bingley, two things he intended to do, he would hear Wickham’s name from time to time. “But you still pressed him to go?”

She nodded. “I told him he wasn’t giving Miss King the chance to decide for herself, in assuming she would reject him. I told him he would regret it forever if he let someone he loved get away without fighting for them.”

She stopped walking. Darcy did as well, turning back to her. Elizabeth wore an odd expression.

“Is all well?” he asked. He was suddenly struck by how alone they were, standing in the dappled sunlight under the trees.

She nodded. “I was just reflecting on the action I urged John Lucas to take.”

Whatever Darcy had been hoping for, it wasn’t anything to do with Mr. Lucas. “You regret your words? They seem happy together.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not regret them. I think, if one really wants something, it should be sought with determination. Small misunderstandings, such as the idea of John Lucas being a fortune hunter, shouldn’t be allowed in the way.”

“So you stand by your advice?”

“I do, even if seeing John Lucas again led Miss King to run off after him when her uncle sent him away, ruining her reputation. He took a risk for love. She did likewise. Now, they are both happy. Miss King is much better off than she would have been if she married her first choice.”

“But it could have gone badly.”

“Yet it did not.”

Darcy frowned. He had the odd feeling he didn’t actually know what they were speaking about. He cleared his throat, seeking safer ground in the threads of the conversation. “And Lady Lucas?”

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment. He cursed the shade of the trees, making reading her expression all the more difficult. She shrugged, setting off up the path once more.

“You know how Sir William got his knighthood?” she asked.

“No, I do not.” Nor was he interested. Something in Elizabeth’s tone had changed. She sounded more sure. Her shoulders were no longer stooped. Darcy would give half his fortune to understand what had happened while they spoke of Mr. Lucas.

“He received his knighthood for an address he made to the king while he was mayor of Meryton. He doesn’t seem to be someone who could write a speech that would impress the king, but Lady Lucas does.” Elizabeth added to that a knowing smile.

“Are you suggesting she helped him with the speech?” Darcy asked.

“No. I’m suggesting she wrote it and helped him practice it. I also wonder about how much she helped her husband in his business dealings. Despite her seven children, I think she contributed to his business success.” She eyed him askance.

“She may,” Darcy said, thoughtfully, realizing Elizabeth waited to see if he would deny a woman could do any such thing. “I know many successful businesses and farms where the wife’s contribution is critical to that success.”

Elizabeth’s expression shifted to one of pleasure. “Well, whatever the history, I’m living in a well-ordered household that is run with love.” She was silent for a moment as they continued walking. “It’s nice to see it is possible.”

“I believe your aunt and uncle in London have such a household,” he said.

“They do, but I wasn’t sure if it was an anomaly.” She cast him another look. “Speaking of sureness, I’m not sure I’ve thanked you enough for helping my sister. Jane’s happiness means so much to me, and she will make Mr. Bingley happy. I can assure you she will. She truly does love him and is every bit as good natured as she seems.”

Though he was enamored by the warmth in Elizabeth’s tone, he knew he couldn’t take all, or even most, of the credit. “It was Mr. Hurst who was the prime mover in that.”

“Mr. Hurst?” She sounded surprised.

“He noticed Bingley was unhappy,” Darcy said with a shrug.

“But Jane said you helped.” Her tone was stubborn. “Do you always downplay your good works?”

“In this case, I am not.” Given the obvious joy her sister’s engagement brought, Darcy only wished that to be the case. He would take all the credit if he could, then take Elizabeth in his arms and collect his reward.

He shook his head, trying to organize thoughts scattered by that image, aware she was watching him carefully. “When called upon to give my opinion, I said that if Bingley was unhappy after several months, he should see your sister again. When I saw her reaction to him, I was convinced she cared for him.”

“I’m happy you could see it. I know you didn’t before.”

“Her feelings were unmistakable, even to me.”

They fell into silence again, the path growing steeper and the trees more scattered. Darcy wondered that they talked about loving couples, but never of themselves. At least she seemed comfortable with him again, though he couldn’t pinpoint the source of her unease and had even less idea how it came to be resolved.

As the silence drew out, Darcy began to worry they’d moved from a companionable silence to an uncomfortable one. He decided to bring up Mr. Gardiner’s charity work. As Darcy suspected after their talk the day she showed him Pine Cottage, Elizabeth was very familiar with her uncle’s efforts and aware of the difficulty of deciding how best to spend money to help the most people.

The conversation carried them to Oakham Mount. Mr. Lucas and Miss King were there, claiming they’d just arrived. Miss King had a slightly rumpled look that suggested they hadn’t spent all their time walking or looking at the view. Darcy wondered how Elizabeth would look similarly disheveled. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel any nearer to finding out than when he’d arrived the day before.

Chapter Eighteen

Mills will be the ruin of this country.

Darcy retired to Pemberley, finding his emotions too tightly wound for London. He wasn’t accustomed to the feelings of longing and unease he endured upon absenting himself from Elizabeth. They were singularly uncomfortable sensations. He spent his days pacing his grounds, trying to decide what more he could do about them.

When a particularly thick missive from Mrs. Collins arrived, Darcy tore it open with more fervor than he would generally employ, hoping for some news of Elizabeth. He hurriedly read Mrs. Collins’ repeated thanks for his efforts on her behalf, then ignored a description of the weather.

Moving on, he skimmed over a page about Mr. Lucas and Miss King, now Mrs. Lucas. Apparently, the aunt who’d raised her in Meryton had moved away, but returned for the wedding. They were also joined by the uncle and other aunt, Mr. and Mrs. King. The Kings were reconciled to the match. Mrs. Collins suspected this was because her brother was not an impoverished fortune hunter, but someone whose expectations were commensurate with Miss King’s fortune.

Darcy normally found Mrs. Collins observations astute and written in a somewhat witty, enjoyable fashion. That day, he could hardly focus on them. He skimmed over further details of the event, her droll mention of her father’s repeated telling of how he became a knight, the wonders of St. James described again. All Mrs. Collins’ words did was bring to mind Elizabeth’s suspicion over the origin of the speech, taunting Darcy with hopes of hearing about Elizabeth herself.

He stopped his skimming, however, when he reached lines he felt Mrs. Collins might have opened with:

I’ve given birth to a boy, William Bennet Collins. He is named William for his father and mine, and Bennet in honor of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, since he would never have been born without her.

Darcy hoped that wouldn’t be the only reference to Elizabeth. He would have begun skimming again, but the next section caught his eye.

Mr. Collins does not walk away from Hertfordshire empty handed. He is to marry Miss Kitty Bennet. Apparently, he would not propose to her, thinking he might not have much to offer her, but he found she wanted to marry him even on his limited income. He will return to Derbyshire shortly, but come back to Hertfordshire before long, for they wish to marry soon.

Miss Mary Bennet is now engaged to Mr. Phillips’ clerk, Mr. Mitchel. They plan to wait to marry until six more months of mourning have passed. It seems all the Bennet sisters have found places for themselves.

Alarmed by Mrs. Collins words, Darcy’s eyes darted to the text below. Now, he picked out Elizabeth’s name with trepidation. He dreaded reading news of an impending marriage for her as well.

I will be moving to Longbourn in a week or two. Miss Elizabeth Bennet will join me there, as will my younger sister, Susan. I feel well enough to go now, but my parents insist it is better to wait. I suspect both of them simply want more time with their first grandchild, but am willing to humor them in return for the kindness they’ve always shown me.

I appreciate your negotiations, which allowed me to remain on good terms with my late husband’s brother. I believe the money he received was probably less than a trustee would have been paid for doing the work he did, which saved me money. At the same time, it gave him something when he could have left with nothing at all once I bore a son. I am happy he was well compensated for his work. We both are richer for your intervention.

My father and brother are going to advise me on the running of the farm, but I was in close contact with Mr. Collins while he was here, and I am hoping to learn how to handle things myself. In truth, I already have a good notion of how to proceed.

She closed with more professions of gratitude. Darcy placed the pages down on his desk, his eyes going to the hastily torn envelope. Nothing in Mrs. Collins’ letter gave him a reason to return to Hertfordshire. He had no excuse to see Elizabeth.

None save the ache of her absence from his life. Not a logical cause for a journey. Yet, how long could he endure without Elizabeth by his side?

***

Elizabeth should have been looking forward to the dinner party her Aunt and Uncle Phillips were hosting in honor of Kitty’s engagement. It would be a convivial family gathering with Kitty, Mr. Collins, Mary, Mr. Mitchel and, of course, Elizabeth’s mother, and should be similar to the one thrown for Mary not long past. It wasn’t even Mrs. Bennet’s presence at dinner that damped Elizabeth’s mood. It was Mr. Darcy.

On their walk, she’d resolved to be more like John’s wife Mary and fight for the man she’d come to love. It was all fine, of course, to make that decision, but Elizabeth had no notion how to go about it. Mary Lucas was correct in her protest that her journey to find John Lucas wasn’t so great a risk as it might seem. He loved her and she knew it.

Could Elizabeth really run off to Derbyshire as Mary Lucas had come to Hertfordshire? Elizabeth had no notion what reception she would receive from Mr. Darcy, a man who knew she’d misjudged him and whom she’d very emphatically turned down. If he wouldn’t have her, she’d be ruined.

The night of the dinner went much as Elizabeth anticipated. Her mother dominated the conversation around the table. She spent hours congratulating herself and her engaged daughters, chastising Elizabeth for not having married the elder Mr. Collins, and bemoaning that Pine Cottage wasn’t big enough for her to hold their meal, something she hadn’t done when Mary became engaged.

“I don’t see why Mary and Jane have to wait for six months to pass,” Mrs. Bennet said as dessert was brought, having finally exhausted her earlier topics. “I wouldn’t be offended at earlier marriages and if I’m not offended, no one else should be.”

“Well, I’m getting married sooner,” Kitty said, smiling at Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth was pleased the meal wasn’t at Pine Cottage. Kitty shouldn’t be made to clear up her own celebratory dinner. She was also pleased by the loving look Mr. Collins turned on her younger sister.

“Yes, and leaving me all alone,” Mrs. Bennet complained plaintively.

“Do you want me to delay the marriage?” Kitty asked, sounding unsure.

“No, of course not. Who knows what might happen if you delay.” Mrs. Bennet glared at Mr. Collins, as if he’d suggested abandoning Kitty. “With your looks, constitution and temperament, you have to leap at this opportunity. You’re a fool to let him return to Derbyshire without a ceremony.”

“Mama,” Elizabeth protested in chorus with Mary.

Mrs. Bennet turned her eyes in their direction. “That goes doubly for you, Mary. Any moment, Mr. Mitchel is going to come to his senses. Whatever were you thinking, agreeing to so long an engagement?”

“I was thinking that I’m honoring Papa,” Mary snapped, her face bright red.

Elizabeth hid a smile. It was good to see Mary stand up to their mother. She would be a married woman soon with a home of her own to run.

“Oh, your father,” Mrs. Bennet lamented. “If only he’d saved more for you girls I’d have something to give you. Then he’d be worth honoring. Instead, you’re permitting his memory to ruin your one and only chance at happiness, Mary.”

Mrs. Phillips cleared her throat. “Perhaps some fruit tart, Mrs. Bennet?”

Elizabeth’s mother ignored that, and any other attempts to change the subject. The whole table was made to endure another rant about how little money she had and how her daughters had all abandoned her because she couldn’t give them anything. Elizabeth realized there was no help for it, as they were all too polite to intervene. Was this why her father had taken to tormenting her mother? Was cruelty the only means of stopping her?

“Do you know, I hear Mr. Darcy owns a mill,” Kitty said over their mother’s ranting, her voice loud.

Elizabeth’s heart leapt at the sound of his name, even as her mind struggled to accept Kitty’s words. Mr. Wickham had mentioned a mill, but she hadn’t quite believed him and had put the idea from her mind. For once, had his words been the truth?

“Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Phillips said, sounding relieved at the change in topic as he turned from Mrs. Bennet to Kitty. “That doesn’t seem like him.”

Elizabeth had to agree. Mills were renowned for poor work conditions and exploitation. It couldn’t be true. “Where did you hear such a thing, Kitty?”

“From me, I’m afraid,” Mr. Collins said. “I don’t wish to spread rumors, but I have it on good authority that it’s true.”

“How can it be?” Elizabeth asked, stunned. What of Mr. Darcy’s words about caring for his people?

“I don’t understand it, either.” Mr. Collins looked abashed. “How can someone as generous and sensible as Mr. Darcy own a mill?”

“Mills will be the ruin of this country,” Mr. Phillips said. “I know of several lawsuits being brought against them in these parts.”

“And there was the case in Kent,” Mr. Mitchel said. He spoke rarely, his expression generally dazed whenever Mrs. Bennet talked.

“Well, buying one home a lightning rod certainly doesn’t make up for such evil,” Mrs. Phillips declared. “People lose limbs in mills, and die.”

“Perhaps there’s more we don’t know,” Mary said, her tone reasonable.

Elizabeth certainly hoped so. She considered Mr. Collins a sensible source of information, not of idle gossip, yet how could Mr. Darcy own a mill? Was he that greedy?

“Why should there be more? Mr. Darcy is a horrible man,” Mrs. Bennet said. “After the things he said about my Lizzy and what he did to Mr. Wickham, I should be surprised if he didn’t own five mills.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean his words at the assembly,” Elizabeth said, but inside she was reeling. Could she have misjudged Mr. Darcy yet again? She set down her fork, unable to stomach what she’d eaten, let alone dessert.

“You must always contradict me,” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “Never has a woman had so ungrateful a daughter. You’re probably pleased to see me living penniless and alone.”

Mrs. Bennet took back up those two favored topics. Conversation around the table dwindled again as her lamenting voice dominated. Elizabeth hardly attended to her, her mind reeling with confusion.

She loved Mr. Darcy. She was sure of that. Yet, how could she when she didn’t even know him? What sort of gentleman subjected people to a mill?

Afterward, when she was permitted to escape her mother and return to Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth described the dinner to Charlotte. They were alone in a small parlor, giving Elizabeth the freedom to speak openly. Still, she left out the part about Mr. Darcy and the mill, knowing she wouldn’t be able to speak on it without revealing too much emotion. Instead, she used the opportunity to voice some of her anger toward her mother.

After repeating an overview of Mrs. Bennet’s complaints, Elizabeth concluded with, “She went on and on. The only thing she’s giving Kitty and Mary is the same thing she gave Lydia, one thousand pounds each when she dies. My mother isn’t spending anything on my sisters for their marriages and yet still complains she doesn’t have enough money.” Elizabeth paced back and forth, too agitated to sit. “Without the generosity of your family and my uncles, she would have had to support six people with her income. Now, with my sisters wed or marrying, she just has to support herself.”

“It sounds as though she chose to be particularly trying this evening.” Charlotte’s tone was sympathetic. She was sewing baby clothes still, though larger ones now. Little William would grow quickly.

Elizabeth slumped into a chair, exhausted by her mother’s vitriol, her confusion over Mr. Darcy owning a mill and the endless void created by his absence. How odd it was she’d been the first of her sisters asked to wed, twice, yet she alone was unengaged? This in spite of one of the requests coming from the man she loved? Or thought she loved.

Elizabeth gave Charlotte a wry smile. “I almost offered to move in with her, knowing she would come up with a reason for me not to. I don’t know if I refrained because I didn’t want a public rejection or because I was afraid she might say yes.”

“There was no danger of that,” Charlotte said. “And a public rejection wouldn’t bother you. You refrained because you saw that being clever is less important than being kind, especially to someone like your mother.”

“She’s not kind to me.” Elizabeth was too tired to care that she sounded petulant.

“But you’ve learned not to stoop to her level,” Charlotte said.

“I suppose I have.” Elizabeth let out a long sigh. Her anger with her mother dispersed, leaving only her tumult over Mr. Darcy. “Sometimes, I miss the me who made clever remarks.”

“Remarks? You mean, you didn’t make a single clever remark at dinner? That’s not like you.”

“Perhaps it is now.”

Charlotte’s hands stilled. She studied Elizabeth for a long moment. “You look tired. Are you sleeping well?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m worn from dinner with my mother.”

“You don’t need to stay up to keep me company. Go to bed.”

“I think I shall.” Elizabeth stood, offering Charlotte a smile that felt wan. “I’m sure all will be well in the morning.”

“Of course it will be.”

Tired as she was, Elizabeth lay awake for hours, worrying about Mr. Darcy’s mill. How could Mr. Darcy do such a thing? How could she love a man who owned a mill? Was he so hard hearted after all?

Elizabeth pressed her lips into a firm line. No, he wasn’t. She didn’t know what the explanation was, but there would be one. The Mr. Darcy she knew was kind. She’d misjudged him about Mr. Wickham, about his reasons for separating Jane from Mr. Bingley, and about the shilling for the Miller’s cottage. It was time she stopped her silliness and realized Mr. Darcy was a good man.

Perhaps Mr. Wickham had been in Derbyshire and spread the rumor of a mill until it was believed, as he’d done to Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire. Perhaps there was another explanation. Whatever it was, Elizabeth resolved this time, instead of assuming the worse, she would believe in Mr. Darcy.

Chapter Nineteen

I want you to stay, as my friend and companion, as long as you like.

Elizabeth didn’t know whether to look forward to or dread the move to her former home. She had become very fond of the Lucases, particularly Lady Lucas, but it was a crowded house. Of course, she’d grown up in a crowded house, which would now seem empty by comparison.

“You are sure you don’t wish to remain at Lucas Lodge?” Sir William asked Elizabeth as servants carried the remainder of her, Charlotte’s and Susan’s possessions to a cart. “We will all miss you.”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ve very much appreciated your hospitality, but I shall be happy as a companion to Charlotte.”

“Please, stay,” Arthur said, appearing beside Elizabeth to take her hand.

She offered him a smile. “I won’t be far. You can visit me.”

“Can you still give me lessons?” Arthur asked. “Susan said you’ll still teach her to play.”

“You can’t impose on Miss Bennet that way,” John Lucas said.

Elizabeth glanced at Charlotte, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes, I can give you lessons.”

“But only for an hour at a time,” Charlotte said. “And only for four days a week.”

Arthur gave a broad smile. He hugged Elizabeth, then looked down, obviously embarrassed, and ran off. She smiled after him. With a sharp ache, she wondered if she would ever have a son.

Susan came down the stairs. “I’m ready.” Her eyes were bright with excitement to go with them, though no decision had been made as to whether her journey was temporary or permanent.

There was a flurry of goodbyes and Elizabeth, Charlotte, little William and Susan got into the Lucas’ carriage, for Charlotte hadn’t hired servants to man hers yet. Arthur appeared alongside his mother to wave as they left. Elizabeth felt a pang of sadness, though it was silly to do so. She wasn’t going far, and was with Charlotte.

It didn’t take long to get settled. Over the next week, Charlotte hired servants, many the same ones Elizabeth knew. In little time, the household was running very smoothly, although not on as grand a scale as when Mrs. Bennet had presided. The Lucases were their first dinner guests.

A few days later, Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were invited for tea. They’d deliberately chosen a time when Susan was visiting her family, not wanting to expose her to Mrs. Bennet’s first return visit to Longbourn. Elizabeth wished she could so easily escape tea with her mother.

Not long after they sat down to tea, little William started crying. “Excuse me,” Charlotte said, standing. “I’m sure I won’t be long.” With a pleasant smile, she left the parlor.

“What is she doing, leaving us in such an impolite manner?” Mrs. Bennet said. “First, she insults us by serving us with the everyday dishes and then she leaves.”

“I suspect she’s nursing her son,” Elizabeth said. She’d expected her mother’s comment on the china.

“She’s nursing her own baby? Why didn’t she hire a wet nurse?”

“She has someone who looks after William, but she feeds him,” Elizabeth answered evenly, knowing what judgment was to come.

“Charlotte isn’t fit to own Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Imagine, nursing her own child.”

Elizabeth exchanged a look with Kitty, who rolled her eyes. The room went silent. Elizabeth felt no need to revive conversation with her mother, and Kitty seemed to agree. They sat for several long minutes, the only sound the clicking of teacups on saucers.

“Why can’t I live here?” Mrs. Bennet burst out, looking around. “Charlotte has plenty of room. I could help her manage things. No one knows this house better than I do.”

“I don’t think Charlotte will invite you to live here,” Elizabeth said. “And I think it would be insulting to ask you to become a housekeeper.”

Mrs. Bennet looked shocked. “A housekeeper?” Her mouth gaped open and closed several times.

Elizabeth hid her amusement. Perhaps she wasn’t as above stooping to her mother’s level as Charlotte thought.

Kitty looked down at her plate, smiling.

“A housekeeper?” Mrs. Bennet repeated. She shook her head. “She must invite me as a guest. If that doesn’t work, you will invite me. She owes you her life. I should be able to live here.”

“No, Mrs. Bennet,” said Charlotte, walking into the room, rocking William in her arms.

“I don’t see why not,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “You owe it to Elizabeth.”

“What I owe Elizabeth is between her and me,” Charlotte said firmly. “Guests that are impolite are not welcome here.”

“You would keep me from my own daughter?”

“She can visit you,” said Charlotte with a slight smile.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, surprised Charlotte had gotten Mrs. Bennet to implicitly concede she was impolite.

Kitty made a sound that was suspiciously reminiscent of a giggle.

“But I should be able to visit her,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It’s only fair. She is my daughter. Our children are everything to us mothers.” She looked pointedly at William.

“Obviously, Elizabeth isn’t everything to you, or you would have visited her at Lucas Lodge,” Charlotte said.

“You never visit Mary either,” Kitty added, earing herself a scowl from their mother.

“The Phillips live on the other side of Meryton. I can’t walk that far,” Mrs. Bennet said, ignoring that she walked to the Phillips for both Mary’s and Kitty’s engagement dinners. “I’ve been widowed. No one has compassion for my poor nerves. I’m living in a tiny cottage with too few servants. I don’t have a carriage.”

“Out of deference to that, I’ll order my carriage to take you home,” Charlotte said, leaving.

“You see? I shall ride in my carriage,” Mrs. Bennet said, turning back to Elizabeth and Kitty. “No thanks to you, Elizabeth. You didn’t voice a single protest at that woman’s treatment of me.” Mrs. Bennet glowered at Elizabeth. “No matter. I shall have my carriage at my disposal, and shall visit everyone I’ve been unable to see, due to my poor circumstances, the same ones you make no effort to remedy.”

Charlotte came back in, divested of William now. “It will be only a moment. Elizabeth, perhaps you would care to walk your mother out?”

“Certainly,” Elizabeth said, standing.

“I’m to leave already? I haven’t even been here a quarter hour. Your mother shall hear of your lack of manners, Mrs. Collins, mark my word.” Elizabeth knew that the visit had lasted at least a half hour, but said nothing.

“I’m sure she shall,” Charlotte said, still looking amused.

Over Mrs. Bennet’s continued haranguing, Elizabeth escorted her mother to the carriage. She was aware Charlotte held Kitty back, but couldn’t hear the words they exchanged. Elizabeth thought her friend might be asking Kitty to stay, but Kitty joined Mrs. Bennet in the carriage.

After they left, Charlotte turned to Elizabeth. “I will be instructing my servants not to let Mrs. Bennet in. I can’t have someone here who is so impolite to me.”

“I agree,” Elizabeth said, relieved she wouldn’t have to endure inflicting her mother on her friend.

“You have to agree.” Charlotte’s tone was surprisingly bitter. “Your choices are to agree with me or go to Pine Cottage.”

“I am not that servile,” Elizabeth said, surprised.

“I’ve been watching you, at Lucas Lodge and here. I don’t object, you understand. You’ve been perfect. You’ve done more work than is reasonable. You’re agreeable to everyone. At Lucas Lodge, you listened to my father’s repeated stories and made yourself indispensable. You’ve given up your independence.” Charlotte sighed. She reached out, placing a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I know you didn’t understand why I married Mr. Collins, but now that you’re in a worse situation than I was in, I think you might.”

“I do,” Elizabeth said, looking at the floor. “I admire your skill in solving the problem you had, the one I now have. You’ve more than paid me back.”

“No, not quite. When Mr. Darcy came after the burglary, he gave me some information.” Charlotte drew a deep breath, smiling. “Lady Catherine sold the living my late husband held and has given me the money in compensation for her mistake. I was going to give it to you earlier, and feel bad for not doing so, but my mother told me if I had a daughter, my duty to her was greater than my duty to you. I had to agree.” Charlotte sounded almost imploring, as if she worried Elizabeth would feel slighted by the consideration.

Elizabeth gaped at her friend, unsure she was hearing right. Lady Catherine had given Charlotte the worth of Mr. Collins’ living, and Charlotte was . . .

“After Willy was born, I arranged for you to have an annuity. I didn’t want you to have the money all at once, because I was afraid you would be under pressure from your mother to give it to her.” Charlotte shrugged, still looking apologetic.

“Give it to her?” Elizabeth repeated, stunned. Charlotte was giving her money?

“I’m sorry to say it’s less than your mother is receiving, and you can’t live in great comfort, but you could support yourself. You will be paid fifty pounds a quarter.”

“Fifty pounds a quarter?” That was more than enough to live on. For someone in Elizabeth’s circumstance, it was a small fortune. “You can’t do that. It’s too generous.”

“It’s too late. It is done.” Charlotte gave Elizabeth’s arm a squeeze before dropping her hand. “Now, are we even? Can I refrain from waking up every morning glad that you intervened and guilty I never repaid you?”

“No,” Elizabeth said. “It’s too much. I owe you.”

“No debts between us. If you hadn’t intervened, Willy wouldn’t have been born. He is the greatest gift anyone could give me.”

Elizabeth studied Charlotte for a long moment. She knew her friend well enough to know Charlotte spoke the truth. It was too much, to Elizabeth’s thinking, but Charlotte wouldn’t resent having given it. “Yes, of course we’re even. I never considered us otherwise.”

“Good,” Charlotte said with obvious relief. “You remove a care from my shoulders by saying so.”

“You said I can support myself.” Elizabeth swallowed, dreading what she knew must be her next words. “Do you want me to move to Pine Cottage? At least until I can find a place of my own.”

“No,” Charlotte said emphatically. “I want you to stay, as my friend and companion, as long as you like. I want you to save some of your money so you have even more security. I want you to marry a handsome, rich man whom you love.”

Elizabeth smiled at that. There was only one man she wished to marry. Although he more than fulfilled Charlotte’s description, Elizabeth lamented ever getting to see him again. “I would love to stay.”

“Then it’s settled,” Charlotte said, smiling. “I’m off to look in on Willy. You are free to do as you like. No more making a servant of yourself because you feel you need to earn your place.”

With a lightness from the removal of a burden she hadn’t known she carried, Elizabeth took her place at the pianoforte. She realized it had been a long while since she’d played for the sheer joy of it, not to give lessons or strive to provide better entertainment for others. A smile hovered on her lips as she launched into a happy tune. Charlotte returned, sitting down with her sewing to listen.

Not long thereafter, Kitty was shown into the parlor. Elizabeth stilled her fingers, offering her sister a smile. Kitty looked tired, as anyone who spent all of their time with Mrs. Bennet must. Elizabeth could understand why her sister wouldn’t wait until fully out of mourning to marry and leave for her new home in Derbyshire.

“Am I still welcome?” Kitty asked as the maid walked away.

“Yes, you are,” Charlotte said. “You aren’t the one contesting my right to be here.”

“Thank you for warning me about your orders to the carriage driver,” Kitty said. “Mama is furious. She wanted your coachman to take her to the Longs so she could show she could visit people, but he refused. She just sat in the coach for ages, outside the cottage. When she finally got out and he left, she was so angry.”

“Well, you may remain here for the afternoon, if you need to avoid her,” Charlotte offered. “I realize my desire to be rid of her has likely made your day more unpleasant.”

“It was understandable,” Kitty said, coming in to sit down with a sigh. “I feel bad about marrying so quickly, but I can’t live with her anymore. I don’t blame you for not wanting to have tea with her.”

“You aren’t . . .” Elizabeth trailed off, unsure how to phrase her question. She hadn’t had much quiet time with Kitty, without their mother. She thought Kitty and Mr. Collins looked like they were in love, but she wouldn’t see her sister rush into a marriage unsure, especially now that she had the means to help Kitty, thanks to Charlotte. “That is, you do love Mr. Collins, don’t you?”

Kitty’s smile was radiant. “Yes, I love Mr. Collins. I can’t wait until we’re together again and married. I was devastated when I thought he wasn’t going to propose, all because the silly man thought I wouldn’t have the life I deserve. That’s why I got the chickens.”

“Chickens?” Charlotte asked. She exchanged an amused glance with Elizabeth.

Kitty turned to Charlotte. “You have chickens. You’re practical, and sensible with money. You married a Mr. Collins. I wanted to show him I could be the wife of a poor clergyman.” She made a face. “It wasn’t until I cried that he offered for me.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Charlotte said. “You would be amazed at what I had to do to get my Mr. Collins to offer for me. That was three days after he proposed to Elizabeth.”

“Mama was horrified, you know,” Kitty said. “She wanted your Mr. Collins to marry Mary, since Elizabeth wouldn’t have him. But Mary has found a better man. I’m glad for her.”

“Kitty,” Elizabeth reprimanded, but her tone was gentle.

Kitty blinked, then went red, obviously realizing what she’d said. “I didn’t mean to speak ill of your husband,” she said, turning wide eyes on Charlotte.

“I understand.” Charlotte gave a little shake of her head. “He was what he was. There’s no reason to pretend otherwise.”

“You were a good wife to him,” Elizabeth said, meaning it.

“I tried to be,” Charlotte replied.

“We’ve all been proposed to by a Mr. Collins,” Kitty added.

“We have,” Elizabeth said. “But I’m the odd one out, since I didn’t manage to marry one. Ask Mother, she’ll tell you.”

All three women chuckled at that. Elizabeth changed the topic to Kitty’s future, not wanting to risk further insulting Charlotte’s late husband. As they spoke of the plans Kitty and Mr. Collins had, Elizabeth was pleased. Kitty was getting the better Mr. Collins.

Chapter Twenty

The mills were only desirable because the farms were worse.

Darcy had a steward who ran his estate, kept abreast of his tenants, and saw to many of his investments, but he’d hired Mr. McIntyre to help with his other charities. Mr. McIntyre brought a sensible Scottish attitude to his work. Darcy’s steward handled the genuine hardship cases among the tenants, of course, such as a recent widow or an injured breadwinner. These were necessary, but not worth Darcy’s time, since they didn’t involve much in the way of decisions. Mr. McIntyre helped Darcy handle cases that were a little farther from home or unusual.

Mr. Collins had originally come to Darcy’s attention both because his troubles came from his own charity and because he’d been working hard to improve his situation. Mr. McIntyre had gone personally to oversee the work on Mr. Collins’ garden and had handled a shovel with the other men. Darcy knew Mr. McIntyre’s unassuming appearance and Scottish burr hid his intelligence and education, and Mr. McIntyre knew it as well. He could speak the King’s English perfectly when he wished. Darcy wasn’t certain which form of speech was more natural to the man.

After receiving Mrs. Collins’ letter about her son’s birth and the further allocation of the Bennet daughters, Darcy asked Mr. McIntyre to let him know when Mr. Collins returned from Hertfordshire. Mr. McIntyre did so by the simple method of attending Mr. Collins’ church every Sunday, wearing workmen’s clothing.

“Collins has made a good choice with his curate,” Mr. McIntyre told Darcy a few weeks later. “The only thing I can accuse the man of is rather trite sermons. I talked to him after the service. He told me Collins will be back in two days.”

Thus prepared, Darcy was able to ride by Mr. Collins parsonage with no visible expectation of finding him home. He was particularly lucky Mr. Collins had obviously just finished collecting eggs, and so spotted Darcy on the road. The whole meeting could come off as chance, not as Darcy going out of his way to hear any possible news of Elizabeth.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins called, waving. “What a pleasure to see you. Please, come inside.”

Darcy did his best not to look eager. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Not at all. Do you want to put your horse in my pasture? If you rode from Pemberley, he might appreciate the rest and the grass.”

Darcy’s practiced eye saw that the pasture was not overgrazed but a prudent homeowner might want to preserve the grass for his own stock, which seemed to consist of goats. Nevertheless, he put his horse in the pasture after removing both saddle and bridle. Sometimes, one had to accept hospitality, even if the giver could little afford it.

Mr. Collins had divested himself of the eggs while Darcy worked, and returned to the yard to usher him inside. Darcy took in the small parlor Mr. Collins lead him into. There were shutters on the windows, but no curtains. There was an appropriate amount of furniture, but there wasn’t a single decoration. The furniture was functional, old but not damaged, and completely unadorned.

“Would you care for anything?” Mr. Collins asked as they were seated. “I’m afraid my cook is out, but I have sherry.”

Darcy shook his head. “I wanted to offer my congratulation on your engagement to Miss Kitty.” He wondered what Elizabeth’s sister would think of the emptiness of the parsonage.

“I know, after the house at Longbourn, this is very plain,” Mr. Collins said, his eyes sweeping the room as well. “I worry it isn’t up to what she has a right to expect. I almost didn’t propose, thinking it would be unfair to her.”

“What made you change your mind?” Darcy said, startled his thoughts had been so obvious.

“She cried because I was leaving. I wanted her to have more than I can give her, but she claims all the more she wants is my love.” He shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “I was wondering if I should try to get something to cheer the place up.”

“Why not let her put her own stamp on it?” Darcy suggested. “Tell her you were going to spend a certain amount of money on it, and let her decide what she wants.”

“Is that what you’re going to do when you marry? Let your wife redecorate Pemberley?”

Darcy, taken aback, had no notion how to respond to that.

“I’m sorry, that was impertinent of me,” Mr. Collins apologized. “Forgive me.”

“No,” Darcy said slowly. He offered Mr. Collins a rueful smile. “You were right to say it. I’ve always thought I have so much to offer a woman, she would be happy to take it.” He was aware that the past tense was appropriate in this statement. “I never considered what it would be like for her to move into a house decorated by others and not be allowed to change it.” He looked around the room again, seeing the austereness more as an invitation this time. “My mother redecorated much of Pemberley, but there are some rooms my grandmother planned and some my great grandmother did. I suppose I assumed my wife will plan her own bedroom and sitting room, but leave Pemberley as it is. Yet, I redecorated a room for my sister without giving it any thought.”

“Pemberley is reputed to be magnificent,” Mr. Collins said, his tone holding no judgement. “I can understand you not wanting to change it.”

“Pemberley is a house to be lived in, not a shrine to the past.” Darcy frowned. “My mother was the daughter of an earl and had exquisite taste. My grandmother rode with the hounds and spent more time improving the stable than the house. She had a room with no carpeting, which was designed so she could walk in from the stable and sit down and be comfortable. Even after she was too old to ride, she would sit there, wearing her riding habit, complete with her boots, putting her feet up on the furniture. She could dress up for company, but she preferred living that way. She hid her eccentricities from most outsiders.” Darcy smiled, conjuring the past in his mind’s eye. “I loved visiting her room when I was a child. I didn’t have to be careful of the furniture. I cried when she died, and again when my mother redecorated the room.” He wondered if Elizabeth would have liked that room. Perhaps she would want one like it, for children . . . Darcy shook his head. He couldn’t very well have children with a woman he never saw and who wouldn’t marry him.

“What rooms were kept?”

“Kept?” Darcy repeated, his gaze refocusing on Mr. Collins. He realized he’d already spoken much more than was usual. Mr. Collins had an easy way to him, though, and gave no sign of passing judgement on Darcy’s words.

“You said some rooms were decorated by your grandmother, implying they were kept.”

Darcy nodded. “So I did. One is what we call the horse room. It’s full of pictures of hunting. Also, she had a room where the furniture is a little taller than most furniture. The chairs are a little higher off the ground. She liked it when she got older, saying it was easier for her to get out of a chair. She was a tall woman, even when she was old.”

“They sound like nice rooms.”

“You’ve never seen Pemberley?” Darcy asked, recalling Mr. Collins earlier words about Pemberley being reputedly magnificent. Darcy, accustomed to people touring his home when he was away, never knew who’d been inside and who had not.

Mr. Collins shook his head.

“That should be remedied.” It was polite, and, Darcy admitted to himself, it was best to establish the habit of Mr. Collins visiting now, so he could be invited again if Elizabeth visited her sister there.

“I wasn’t hinting for an invitation, but I won’t decline.”

Darcy stood. “If you’re free now, I’ll send for a carriage.” He’d talked so much about his home, he hadn’t had the chance to seek information about Elizabeth yet.

“If it’s not an imposition, I’d prefer if you sent a groom with an extra horse. I grew fond of riding when at Longbourn and I can’t afford it here.”

Darcy nodded. “Give me an hour.”

Thanking him, Mr. Collins showed him out. Darcy saddled his mount, who was happily grazing on Mr. Collins’ grass, and set out toward Pemberley.

After giving it a little thought during his ride, Darcy brought the extra horse himself, telling Mr. Collins that much of Pemberley’s grounds were best seen on horseback. As they rode through the countryside, they both saw a lowborn man spit in Darcy’s direction. Being used to it, he ignored the man, although he could see Mr. Collins was shaken. Once they arrived on Pemberley property, there were friendly waves and people calling out respectful greetings.

Nothing was said about the disparity as they wandered the house and grounds, Darcy fishing for news of Elizabeth. He found it a bit difficult to concentrate on his guest, amiable as Mr. Collins was, as his mind kept picturing Elizabeth in each room. What would she think of his home? Could she come to love it as he did?

Several hours later, Darcy and Mr. Collins returned to the front of the house, where a groom waited with two new horses for Mr. Collins’ ride back. Mr. Collins had been a surprisingly pleasant guest. Darcy was pleased. If his desire to marry Elizabeth ever came to fruition, Collins would be an acceptable relation and visitor.

Mr. Collins halted at the top of the steps, turning to Darcy. He gave a quick glance around. “I couldn’t help but notice a man spit in your direction earlier, and you seemed to take it in stride. It’s not my place, I know, but--”

Darcy cut him off with a gesture. “It’s nothing. Undoubtedly, it’s because of my mill.”

Mr. Collins looked startled, the first time all day he’d given an overt reaction to Darcy’s words. “I’d heard you have a mill, and I know they are terrible places, but I would expect your mill to have better conditions,” he said hesitantly.

“Let me show you, if you have the time,” Darcy said, mounting the horse intended for the groom who would have accompanied Mr. Collins back to the rectory. He turned the horse, the look he gave Mr. Collins challenging.

With a shrug, Mr. Collins mounted the second horse.

Mr. Collins doubt was palpable to Darcy as they rode, but he knew there was no point in trying to explain. Darcy would have to show him. He wondered why people thought all mill owners got away with deplorable conditions. There was no point in telling people a mill could easily be better than a farm. Many mills were safer, cleaner, and paid better, but that was a relative measure. The mills were only desirable because the farms were worse.

Perhaps it was because the misery was concentrated in a mill, Darcy mused. That made the mills seem worse. Mill workers understood they were better off in a mill than on a farm, or they wouldn’t keep migrating to the mills. Most mill owners understood that if they tried to get away with terrible conditions, they wouldn’t find workers. Those who didn’t, didn’t stay in business long.

Darcy tried to see things through Mr. Collins’ eyes when they entered the mill. Yes, most of the work was done by women and children, because they were paid less than the going wages for a man. Darcy wondered what Mr. Collins thought of the cots along one wall, some with people sleeping in them. Or, of the school area where three boys were earnestly writing on slates as a man looked on and four girls were sewing seams under a woman’s supervision. Darcy led the way over to the kitchen area, where a big pot was simmering over coals.

He doubted Mr. Collins noticed there was a nearly empty hourglass on the table. Mr. Collins would have gone in farther, but Darcy stopped, gesturing to it. The last sand ran out. The man overseeing the boys writing hit a bell.

Simultaneously, several things happened. The sleepers on the cots arose, one rather reluctantly, and went over to relieve people on the machines, as did the boys who were writing and the girls who were sewing. The woman who’d been overseeing the girls sewing went to the kitchen area and scooped out something for each person who left a machine. Mr. Collins walked over and looked into the pot.

It was half gruel with bits of whatever was available. Today it was mainly cabbage, spinach and beans, with bits of meat. From the smell, there was also onion and garlic. Darcy wanted everyone to get a quarter pound of meat every day, and made sure good food was supplied.

“How often are they fed?” Mr. Collins asked.

“Three times a day.”

Mr. Collins nodded, approvingly.

The man who’d been working with the boys on writing came over, nodding to Mr. Collins before turning to Darcy. “We had to send Douglas Kincaid home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Darcy replied.

“It’s not his fault,” the man said.

Darcy shook his head. “I have to stick to my word. He can’t come back.”

“I know, sir,” the man said, but he looked unhappy. “But you know it was his father’s doing.”

“I know, but I can’t do anything about it,” Darcy replied reluctantly. He cast a quick glance at Mr. Collins. He didn’t want to emphasize the ugly side of the business.

“Why was this Douglas sent home and why can’t he come back?” Mr. Collins asked.

“Tell him,” Darcy said to his employee and walked away. He didn’t need to hear it again. It only angered him. Douglas’ father insisted his son come home from the mill and put in several hours of work on the farm. He told Douglas since he had such an easy job at the mill, he still had to do his share of work at home. Douglas didn’t get enough sleep and was dangerously tired when he worked. This was the fourth time he’d been sent home, and it would be the last time. Darcy knew he could have a replacement worker in a matter of hours. This time, he would do it.

He felt sorry for Douglas. The boy was fourteen and had to do what his father said. Darcy would like to see the lad educated and able to save for a better future, but he couldn’t hire everyone. Another child would benefit.

Darcy smiled, watching as a girl grabbed a book, after gobbling her meal, and took it to where the light was good. Most of the other children napped, since it was a long work day, and two of the three breaks they had were spent in being educated. The girl’s parents required no further work from her at home, so she came to the mill rested. They realized what the opportunity to learn meant for their children.

Mr. Collins spent nearly an hour looking around and asking questions. Darcy employed the time going over the books, something he liked to check into himself when he could, and discussing which person to hire to replace Douglas. Every tenant family had at least one person working at the mill. Douglas’ family consisted only of his father and himself and Darcy would not hire the father.

Darcy was angry with the man. Douglas brought home enough money to hire a worker to replace his labor at home. The father was a notorious drunkard. When he didn’t pay his rent next quarter, Darcy would give him notice. He hoped to have another family there before spring. It wouldn’t help Douglas, he knew, but the boy had only a few more years before he could decide to help himself.

Eventually, Mr. Collins sought out Darcy, ready to leave. They returned to the horses, which grazed outside. Mr. Collins’ expression was thoughtful.

“Are you making a profit?” he asked as they mounted.

“Oddly, enough, I am.” Darcy shrugged. “It’s about the same profit I would get from putting sheep on the land.”

“Only you hire many more workers than would be required for sheep,” Mr. Collins said.

“Yes, but I only hire my tenants’ families.”

“Is that why the man spat at you?”

“I assume so. Or because they don’t know what goes on here. It’s common for them to hate me for either.”

“Could you enlarge this? There seems to be enough room.”

“It’s run on water power, which is limited.”

“Perhaps a second suitable location could be found,” Mr. Collins said.

Darcy considered that. “I hadn’t thought to look yet.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” Mr. Collins expression was apologetic. “I heard a little about the mill, but people spoke angrily. I didn’t understand properly until I saw what you’re doing.”

“No one does,” Darcy said with a shrug. He didn’t mind. Anyone important to him understood. At least, he hoped so.

A few days later, Darcy received a note from Mr. Collins saying that a boy from Pemberley had taken refuge in his church. Darcy decided to investigate personally, and was not surprised to find Douglas Kincaid. Douglas had run away from home after being beaten by his father.

A brief investigation found that Douglas’ father had left, taking his few possessions. His cottage contained almost no food, which was surprising, because the harvest was in. A neighbor said the father had sold his crop for drink.

“He doesn’t have any broken bones,” Mr. Collins said after settling the boy in a spare room at the rectory. “I would be happy to take care of him for a week or two until you find something for him.”

“I’ve already replaced him in the mill,” Darcy said, frowning. “Even if he were old enough to run the farm on his own, his father might return. I don’t want his father to find him and claim him.”

“There’s a widow in my parish who could use a boy’s help,” Mr. Collins said.

Darcy went with Mr. Collins to meet the widow, who was surprised by her guests but welcoming. On the way back to the parsonage, they both agreed they could place Douglas with the widow. Mr. Collins said he would see to it.

Riding back to Pemberley, Darcy was again impressed with Mr. Collins. He’d come to Darcy with the issue only because he knew the boy was one of Darcy’s tenants, not because he wanted help or charity. He already had a solid solution prepared. Darcy was beginning to think the man would be an asset to know. Someone who could competently broaden Darcy’s charitable efforts.

Upon returning to Pemberley he found two letters from Rosings. His cousin Anne wrote that she was very happy, because she was going to marry the new rector of the Hunsford parsonage. Lady Catherine, in turn, wrote that she was very unhappy. She was horrified Anne was marrying so beneath her and planning to live at the parsonage with her husband, writing:

At least Anne has enough sense to realize she can’t live like Mrs. Collins did and will use some of the income from her dowry to make her life more comfortable. I cannot imagine why the couple doesn’t want to live with me at Rosings. I asked Anne to help me choose the new rector because Rosings will be hers when I die, and I thought she should pick someone she liked, since she might hear his sermons for many years. I didn’t realize how much she liked him.

I have very mixed emotions. Anne is very happy, which makes me happy, but she could do so much better. When I threatened to refuse permission, she coolly informed me that since she is of age, she doesn’t need permission and even if I find a way to withhold her dowry, she will live on her husband’s income. There is no legal way I can withhold her dowry.

I’ve reluctantly given my blessing. I am proud Anne had the gumption to stand up to me. Once I accepted the marriage, her fiancé agreed to let me help Anne with the marriage contract. He was quite happy to give Anne financial independence. I find I am rather astonished he is genuinely in love with her.

To Darcy’s surprise, under his aunt’s closing salutations, a few more words were scrawled in her forceful hand:

After writing this, maybe I should not be upset at Anne’s marriage.

Darcy wrote back to both of his relatives, wishing Anne every happiness. He meant his good wishes, and was pleased by how reasonably his aunt was reacting. Still, he penned the words with a heavy heart. Darcy didn’t begrudge anyone else their happiness. He very much hoped, however, that he could secure some of his own.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy are good friends.

“Your sister Kitty is running down the drive,” Charlotte said, turning from the window she stood at, rocking William. “Perhaps you should see what’s the matter.”

“I can’t imagine what could be.” Elizabeth set her book aside, going to greet Kitty at the door. “Kitty, is everything well?”

Kitty blinked in surprise. “Yes, of course. He’s coming a day early.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Collins.” Kitty’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I got a letter from him just now. I was really worried at first, because we agreed to only write twice a week to save money, and I received a letter yesterday.”

Elizabeth shook her head, deciding not to mention the worry Kitty’s dash down the drive had caused her. She’d rarely seen her younger sister so happy, especially since Mr. Collins left. Elizabeth stepped backward, into the hall. “Do come in.”

Kitty hurried inside, heading for the front parlor. “Is Charlotte at home?”

“She is,” Elizabeth said, following her sister. They entered the parlor to find Charlotte sitting with her sewing, William no longer with her, likely sleeping in his room.

“Mrs. Collins,” Kitty greeted. “Mr. Collins is coming a day early.”

Charlotte gave Kitty a smile. “How wonderful for you, Kitty. Would you care for tea?”

Kitty shook her head, taking the same seat she’d always sat in, although Charlotte had changed the placement of the furniture. “No thank you.”

“How is it Mr. Collins is arriving early?” Elizabeth asked, retaking her seat.

“Because of Mr. Darcy,” Kitty said.

Elizabeth tried not to show her surprise, or her interest. It was all she could do not to lean forward so as not to miss a word.

“Because of Mr. Darcy?” Charlotte prompted.

“Yes,” Kitty said. “Mr. Bingley is coming to Netherfield Park two days before my wedding.”

Elizabeth nodded. Jane had written as much.

“Mr. Darcy is joining him,” Kitty continued.

Mr. Darcy was returning to Hertfordshire? Elizabeth’s heart leapt. She’d hoped he might visit Mr. Bingley, but hadn’t dared to think it would be so soon. This time, she would not let Mr. Darcy leave without telling him she loved him, even she wasn’t sure of his reaction. She must at least try.

“They’re good friends now. That is, Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy are good friends,” Kitty continued, needing no encouragement to keep speaking. “Mr. Darcy offered to bring Mr. Collins here in his carriage. Isn’t that kind of him? That will save us money, too. He’ll be staying at Netherfield Park. Mr. Collins, that is. Well, Mr. Darcy too, I suppose. The only bad news is he’ll have to spend some of his time there, but I don’t care, at least not much. I’ll be seeing him sooner.” Kitty let out a long sigh, smiling.

“Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy are good friends?” Elizabeth tried to sound merely polite, not interested. She could feel Charlotte’s keen eyes on her.

“Yes. Mr. Collins used to be worried about Mr. Darcy’s mill, but now Mr. Darcy is helping Mr. Collins’ parish. His parishioners thought he was just trying to become friends with a rich man, but Mr. Darcy helped settle a dispute between two farmers to both of their satisfaction,” Kitty babbled. “He also arranged for a widow to get help on her farm and for the innkeeper to build a small addition on his inn, where he’s selling a few things so people don’t have to go three miles to Lambton to buy a few everyday items. The innkeeper has a large family and his children will help in the store. People are saying Mr. Collins is a canny one, but he just likes Mr. Darcy.”

It was on Elizabeth’s tongue to ask why Mr. Collins was no longer worried about Mr. Darcy’s mill, but she closed her mouth over the words. As much as she wished to know, she wanted to trust Mr. Darcy more. She would take solace in knowing Mr. Darcy was a good man, and Mr. Collins was as well. If they both felt Mr. Darcy’s mill was acceptable, so did she. Even if Mr. Collins didn’t, she would. This time, Elizabeth was going to trust Mr. Darcy.

After Kitty’s news, Elizabeth was on edge, waiting for the day Mr. Darcy would return to Hertfordshire. When it finally came, the day after Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley and the Hursts reportedly arrived at Netherfield Park, it was coupled with Jane and the Gardiners coming from London. Charlotte kindly invited Jane, who was slated to stay in Pine Cottage with Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, to visit Longbourn instead. Elizabeth knew it was as a favor to her, but also no imposition. No one disliked having Jane about.

Elizabeth was delighted to spend time with her favorite sister, especially with Jane so happy. Although there were rooms free, they shared theirs, the one Elizabeth was using, as they always had. Much laughter was exchanged in the late-night hours, Jane telling Elizabeth details of her time in London, Mr. Bingley’s courtship, and his sisters’ reluctant acceptance of her.

Still, a part of Elizabeth wished Bingley’s sisters had invited Jane to stay at Netherfield. It wouldn’t really be scandalous, although Jane and Mr. Bingley being engaged, but then Elizabeth would have the excuse of visiting Jane to help her meet Mr. Darcy. Knowing he was so close, yet still beyond her reach, was driving her into distraction. She resolved that, if no reasonable opportunity presented itself, she would simply walk to Netherfield and seek him out. She would be circumspect, not wanting to entrap him, but she must see him.

Fortunately for Elizabeth’s sanity, it was decided there would be a dinner party held at Netherfield Park the evening before Kitty’s and Mr. Collins’ wedding. Elizabeth’s heart ached to speak with Mr. Darcy in a more intimate setting than a large party, that sensation warring with the heady one of knowing she would see him soon. The day of the party, she went up to her room early to ready, unable to focus on anything but thoughts of seeing Mr. Darcy.

Jane joined her in short order, her happy smile testament to how eager she was to go to Netherfield as well. Once they were both dressed, they set about arranging each other’s hair. Elizabeth was brushing out Jane’s, listening to a description of Mr. Bingley taking her for iced sweets in London, when her sister’s expression clouded, visible in the mirror.

“Jane, what is it?” Elizabeth paused in her brushing.

“Mama will be there tonight.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Yes, but you must be accustomed to her. You’re the eldest. You’ve endured her the longest.”

“It isn’t that.” Jane looked miserable. “Mama wants to move into Netherfield Park. Bingley doesn’t want her there, and I don’t either, if I’m being honest, but neither of us can say no to her. With Kitty leaving, she’ll be so lonely.”

“Mama is within walking distance of the Phillips, the Lucases and several of her other acquaintances. At Netherfield Park, she would need a carriage to visit people. She will spend your money and complain about her poverty.” Elizabeth met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. “She will ruin your happiness. You must say no to her.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Jane said. “I’m not strong like you, Lizzy.”

“Yes, you are.”

Jane shook her head.

Elizabeth pursed her lips, wondering how to save her kind-hearted sister from herself. “If you can’t say no for your own happiness, think of Mr. Bingley’s.”

“He’ll do what I ask.” Jane sighed.

“Then you should only ask what you think is best for him,” Elizabeth said firmly, but realized it was futile to try to harden Jane’s heart.

***

It was an act of will to keep from pacing, but Darcy would not permit his agitation to parade itself before Bingley, Collins, the Hursts and Miss Bingley. As it was, he was so incapable of maintaining reasonable conversation while they awaited the arrival of their guests, they’d taken to talking around him. Even Miss Bingley had given up trying to hold his attention.

When Elizabeth came into the room, she gave Darcy a smile that could only be called radiant. It was every bit as full of affection as the one Miss Bennet had given Bingley at the Gardiners. Darcy couldn’t pull his eyes from her, mumbling his way through the other greetings.

Could Elizabeth care for him now? They saw so little of each other, it hardly seemed possible. He’d never had time to court her. Yet there she was, offering a smile that brought light into his heart. Had she somehow, through some miracle, changed her mind about him?

He was afforded no opportunity beyond a polite greeting, but answered her smile with one of his own. He could feel Hurst’s assessing look, but didn’t mind. Darcy was resolved not to walk away from Hertfordshire again without asking Elizabeth to be his. Let Hurst read it on his face. Darcy wasn’t ashamed of his feelings. The only shame would be in doing nothing about them.

It was fortunate Netherfield boasted a large dining room, for the party included Darcy, Elizabeth, Bingley, Miss Bennet, Collins, Miss Kitty, the Hursts, The Gardiners, Miss Mary, Mr. Mitchel, the Phillips, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Bennet. Miss Bingley was acting as hostess, something she would not be doing for much longer. She somehow maneuvered things so Darcy sat between her and Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth far down the table from them.

Darcy was aware of the logic behind Miss Bingley’s machinations, and annoyed by it. The previous year, Miss Bingley had teased him about the possibility of his marrying Elizabeth and frequently mentioned Mrs. Bennet to discourage his doing so. Obviously, she hoped to remind him how terrible it would be to have Mrs. Bennet as a relation.

To counter that, Darcy decided to be as nice as possible to Mrs. Bennet. “Mrs. Bennet,” he began as dinner got underway. “How is everything at Pine Cottage?”

“It’s a terrible place. I shouldn’t be able to survive living there, if I didn’t know soon I would live here with my Jane and Mr. Bingley.”

Darcy fought to keep his reaction from his face. He couldn’t imagine even that amiable couple agreeing to such a thing, nor would he visit if they did. Darcy put up with Miss Bingley for friendship’s sake, but couldn’t imagine visiting Bingley when Mrs. Bennet was in residence.

“Oh?” he said, unable to muster any other response. He could almost feel triumph radiating from Miss Bingley where she sat on his other side.

“Of course, things here will need to change,” she continued. She eyed him, her look not very friendly. “I suppose you know how it must be, I’ll credit you with that. You have impeccable taste, if not the manners to go with it.”

Darcy was aware of Miss Bingley stifling a laugh in her napkin. He tried to ignore her. “How what must be?”

“Well, this shall all come to an end.” She waved a hand at the extravagant meal before them. “I mean, honestly, serving mutton in Netherfeild? It’s horrendous. There shall be no such base things once I’m helping Jane run things. Nothing but the finest French foods will do.”

“For special occasions,” Darcy said, hopeful that’s what she meant.

“Every day. Bingley can afford it. Jane should be treated like a queen. Better than a queen, my sweet girl.” Mrs. Bennet’s smile was more vindictive than loving. “And there shall be dresses and shoes, hats, gloves, a new carriage for me, my rooms to reappoint. I shall need at least half a wing, done up in that new style, you know the one? I’ve read about it being used in the best London homes.”

An announcement was made at the front of the room, but Darcy missed the words, too caught up in the horror of what Mrs. Bennet described. Bingley’s fortune would be squandered if he and Miss Bennet permitted Mrs. Bennet to have her way.

Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth to continue, but then her jaw went slack. Darcy realized the room was silent. He turned toward the front, belatedly comprehending the servant’s announcement must be significant.

“Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet shrieked in joy at the same moment Darcy’s eyes fell on Mrs. Wickham. “I’m so glad you came.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“There is no need to defend me,”

“Yes there is, since you won’t defend yourself.”

Darcy watched with mild apprehension as Mrs. Wickham strode toward the table, smiling broadly. “I was hoping I would make it in time for this dinner,” she said. “Kitty wrote me about it, and I couldn’t miss it. She didn’t say as much, but I could tell she wanted me here, which is just the same as being invited. Can you set a place for me? I’m starving.”

Room was hastily made for her and a setting called for, though many worried looks were exchanged. Unlike most of the guests, Miss Bingley appeared smug. Her gleeful eyes went from Mrs. Wickham to Mrs. Bennet, and then to Darcy. She arched an eyebrow at him as if to say, this is what you’d be in for.

“Where is Mr. Wickham?” Mrs. Bennet asked. She leveled a hard glare on Mr. Gardiner. “I suppose he couldn’t leave work. This is what comes of making my poor Lydia and her husband work for their bread.”

“I’m sure he has all the time off he needs,” Mrs. Wickham said with an airy wave. “I have no idea of where he is and I don’t care. As to work, he found the couple he worked for had no intention of willing him any money, so he decided it wasn’t worth staying on.”

“I arranged that so he could earn a living, not inherit money.” Mr. Gardiner sounded angry.

“Well, my dear husband wanted it to be another way. He got very angry when he learned the truth, and again when the tavern started paying me less because the patrons were getting bored with me.”

Darcy winced. He’d kept her chosen occupation from becoming common knowledge.

Mrs. Wickham turned to him, her eyes bright. “He was especially angry with you. He can’t get any money from the annuity you arranged without me, and he can’t sell the rights to future payments, because you put in a condition the money had to go to me or not be paid.” She laughed. “That was very well done of you.”

This set murmuring off all about the table. Darcy did his best to ignore it.

“You did what?” Mrs. Bennet demanded, turning to glare at Darcy. “How could you be so cruel to Mr. Wickham, again?”

“Oh Mama, it was funny, watching Wickham try to find a way around it.” Mrs. Wickham shrugged. “That is, until he left. He took my evening’s pay one night and disappeared. I couldn’t make the rent. I sold half of my clothes and came here. I have no place to live.”

The room went silent. Mrs. Wickham looked about at them, obviously expecting someone to offer her a home. The servant setting out her tableware hesitated, a fork halfway to the tablecloth.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Mrs. Bennet cried. “How terrible this has been for you, but it’s worked out for the best. You can come and live with me at Pine Cottage until Jane gets married. Then you can live at Netherfield Park.”

“No.” Bingley’s tone was firm. “Mrs. Wickham will never live here.”

“But, that’s--” Mrs. Bennet began.

“I will not turn you out tonight,” Bingley said to Mrs. Wickham, ignoring Mrs. Bennet. “Miss Kitty should not have the night before her wedding disrupted by your presence. After that, you can move to Pine Cottage with your mother. Even if your mother moves here, you will not be welcome.”

“Why?” Mrs. Wickham jutted out her chin. “Because I worked in a tavern? You are such a snob. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Living with Mr. Wickham before you were married was wrong. Leaving the protection of Colonel Forster was wrong. Not notifying your family where you were, was wrong,” Bingley said, his words clipped and hard. “I don’t want my wife and sisters to be required to explain your presence to their guests. You apparently have an annuity, so you won’t starve.” He nodded toward Darcy.

Darcy was impressed with Bingley’s firm stance, and relieved his friend was taking it. For Bingley’s sake and his own. He did wish Bingley hadn’t revisited the money he’d given Mrs. Wickham, drawing everyone’s attention back to Darcy. He risked a glance, finding Elizabeth staring at him with wide eyes.

“The annuity is only fifty pounds a year,” Mrs. Wickham said. “Mr. Darcy should have paid more than Wickham’s debts. He owed Wickham for the living he stole from him, and he gets enough money from his mill to support us a dozen times over. Wickham told me all of Mr. Darcy’s dirty secrets.”

“Mrs. Wickham, Mr. Darcy’s mill is not what you think,” Mr. Collins said.

“You paid his debts?” Mr. Gardiner addressed Darcy. “I wondered who did. Between his debts at Brighton and his debts in Meryton, and Mrs. Wickham’s annuity, it must have cost you three thousand pounds.”

“Then it was another three thousand pounds,” Elizabeth said. She glared around the table, ending by pinning her mother with her gaze. “You all thought Mr. Wickham was deprived of the living he should have inherited, but he asked for, and received, three thousand pounds for it.”

“Miss Elizabeth, there is no need to defend me,” Darcy said, feeling awkward at having his deeds aired. He realized his argument of last time, that she shouldn’t disparage her sister’s husband, held little weight in view of Wickham’s desertion.

“Yes there is, since you won’t defend yourself.” Her gaze softened as it came to rest on him. “You may not care if people malign you, but I do. You have been consistently kind and good, but no one seems to know it.”

“I do,” said Bingley. Collins and Hurst echoed the sentiment. The others joined in, all save Bingley’s shocked looking sisters, Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Wickham.

“But his mill,” Mrs. Wickham said. “He employs children.”

“I’m sure the children are better off at his mill than they would be if he didn’t employ them,” Elizabeth said, her words and look warming Darcy. “Can’t you see how good a man he is? Everywhere he goes, he does good things. Mr. Wickham leaves behind chaos and debt.”

“Lies,” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Why are you lying for him, Elizabeth? What has he done to you?” She swung back to Darcy. “You’ve put your hands on her, haven’t you? You’ve ruined my daughter.”

Several people surged to their feet, Darcy and Elizabeth among them.

“Mama, stop that this instance,” Elizabeth ordered. “Mr. Darcy is too good a man to ever do such a thing.”

Bingley, standing, gestured toward the door. “I must ask you to leave, madam. You are no longer welcome in Netherfield, ever, and I rescind my offer to let Mrs. Wickham stay here tonight.”

Mrs. Bennet started crying.

Bingley stalked from the room, likely to get footmen and a carriage.

Mrs. Wickham came slowly to her feet, looking about at them. “Fine. I understand I’m not wanted.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Lizzy, I don’t know the truth about the mill or the living, but I do know you’re right, Wickham is a liar and a cad. I hope, for your sake, your Mr. Darcy isn’t.” She marched from the room.

Darcy was aware everyone was looking at him again, but his focus was on Elizabeth.

“He’s not my Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, though Mrs. Wickham was already gone.

Darcy stepped around his chair. Behind him, he heard Miss Bingley gasp, loud enough to be discernable over Mrs. Bennet’s sobs. Darcy walked the length of the table and around the end, stopping beside Elizabeth. He held out a hand. She took it, coming to stand before him. Her fingers were warm in his.

Darcy looked down at her, trying to read her face. The others in the room fell away. For him, there was only Elizabeth. “I could be your Mr. Darcy, if you would have me. Elizabeth Bennet, say you will be my wife.”

A radiant smile turned up her lips. Happiness seeming to fill her from the inside until it spilled out, washing over him. “Yes. I will be your wife. There is nothing I want more in the entire world.”

***

Kitty ended up staying the night in Longbourn. Elizabeth managed to contain her happiness enough to behave properly at Kitty’s wedding, her joy at learning Mr. Darcy still wanted her not even overshadowed by her mother and Lydia. Lydia, who’d spent the night at Pine Cottage, behaved as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Bennet spent the wedding and wedding breakfast not deigning to speak with anyone, the best gift she could have given the new couple.

Afterward, Charlotte suggested to Mr. Darcy that he call on Elizabeth at Longbourn. He agreed, appearing very promptly on their return. The moment the three of them were seated, Charlotte arose.

“I believe Willy needs me,” she said. Giving Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy a smile, she left.

“I didn’t hear him cry,” Mr. Darcy said, his expression amused.

“I don’t think Charlotte did either,” Elizabeth replied. She eyed the space beside him on the couch, wondering if she dared move from her chair to sit there. Smiling, she decided she did dare.

Mr. Darcy answered her smile with his own as she came to sit beside him. He held out a hand, which Elizabeth took. His was warm and large, wrapped securely around her own.

Elizabeth bit her lip. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she owed him an apology. She’d wasted too much of their time together not giving them. It was best to have done with it. “I’m sorry for revealing your financial dealings with Wickham.”

“I don’t mind,” Mr. Darcy said, applying reassuring pressure to her fingers. “I don’t defend myself, I know. It isn’t truly that I don’t care. I would prefer to be thought well of, of course. Who wouldn’t? But I would always be defending my behavior. I’m wealthy enough so that I’m a target for judging how I should have behaved or what I should have spent. I’m glad your relatives have been told the truth.”

“I want them to think well of you. You are such a good man.” She inched closer, looking up at him. She traced his strong, beloved features with her gaze.

Mr. Darcy withdrew his hand. Before she could protest, he wrapped an arm about her. Elizabeth’s heart fluttered as he pulled her close.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured. “I’ve arranged for a special license. We don’t have to use it. We could wait for the banns to be read or even wait until your period of mourning has passed.”

“Do you wish to wait?” she asked, the words coming out a bit breathless.

His gaze lingered on her lips. “No. I’ve already waited too long. If I could marry you and carry you off to Pemberley today, I would do so.”

Elizabeth’s mind filled with an image of him doing just that. She tilted her head back, bringing her lips nearer to his. “Then I just want to wait for one thing.”

“What is that?”

“The special license.”

As she hoped he would, dreamed of him doing, Mr. Darcy kissed her.

Epilogue: Almost Seven Years Later

“I do believe I am the happiest woman in all the world.”

Darcy brought the letter from his foreman at the second mill over for Elizabeth to read, wanting her opinion. She was engaged in a letter from Jane Bingley. From Elizabeth’s smile, the pages were full of tales of the Bingley’s three children.

Bingley had purchased an estate not thirty miles from Pemberley, probably finding it was too much of a strain for his wife to live so close to her mother. Darcy never admitted to Elizabeth how glad he was that when they visited her relatives in Meryton, they stayed with Charlotte, spent time with Mary, the Phillips and the Lucases, but only briefly visited her mother.

Darcy didn’t interrupt, happy to take a seat beside his wife, watching her while she read. If anything, Elizabeth was more beautiful than the day they’d married. He relished these quiet moments with her, though he loved their own children and the work they both did.

He dropped his eyes back to the page. He was a good man, the foreman, and the mill was doing well. It had taken some time to find a suitable spot, but Collins had been tireless in his efforts assisting Darcy’s man, Mr. McIntyre, in locating one. Then had come the building, funded in large part by the profits from the first mill. Darcy could have thrown money into it, but part of his goal was to show others it could be done in a financially sound manner. Now, the mill was up and running, fully staffed.

The letter reported that George Wickham was still at the mill, working hard. He even took turns teaching the children their letters. He didn’t complain, ask for special treatment, or act out.

Darcy could hardly credit it. When his foreman had written, six months ago, that Wickham asked for a job and said the foreman should consult Darcy, Darcy had almost turned him away. Strictly speaking, the mills were only for Darcy’s tenants and their children. Darcy had found, and Collins agreed, that providing a man, woman or child with the opportunity to pull themselves out of poor circumstance was a more valuable gift than simply handing out charity, and more enduring.

Elizabeth looked up from her letter. “You’re very patient.”

“I’d wait for you forever,” he said, offering a smile.

“Which would be quite boring for both of us. What have you there?”

“It’s from the mill.”

Elizabeth searched his face. “Mr. Wickham is still there?” she guessed, apparently able to read Darcy more easily than a letter.

“He is. It’s been six months.” Darcy almost hated to voice his next though, as if saying it would doom the notion. “Maybe he’s changed.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Maybe.”

“We should tell your sister. She has a right to know we’ve found her husband.” Darcy thought she had that right even though she’d repeatedly said she believed him to be dead and didn’t want to hear from him if he was alive. Since Wickham didn’t try to get in contact with his wife, it seemed like a good idea to let it be, but Lydia had started talking about having Wickham declared legally dead, making her a widow and allowing her to remarry. Darcy had no notion of the legality of it, but he felt obligated to let Lydia know her husband was alive.

“Kitty will be relieved. It upsets her not to tell,” Elizabeth said, her expression thoughtful.

“But?” Darcy prompted, knowing that look.

“We can’t allow him to be declared dead, but Lydia and Mother are doing well of late. They used the money you and Mr. Bingley gave them to decorate several rooms at the cottage, hire two more servants, and buy a gig and a horse.” Elizabeth smiled. “I hear Lydia has become quite the expert with it. They go out almost daily, making the rounds.”

Her expression clouded. Darcy knew she was thinking about how few people her mother and sister actually visited, no matter how often they went out or how far they went. There were many who wouldn’t permit Mrs. Wickham into their homes. Would having Wickham back, assuming he’d go back, change that?

“We don’t have the right to keep his presence secret from her,” Darcy said, although he could have expressed it stronger. Considering Lydia’s proposed actions, they might be said to have an obligation to tell Lydia about her husband.

Elizabeth sighed. “They seem so content of late.” She smiled up at him. “You are right, though. It is not for us to decide. What Lydia wishes to do about her husband is up to her, but she must have the facts. Who knows, maybe he will go live with them, and be the man he could have been. Maybe more people will once more invite her into their homes and all will be well, the past forgotten.”

“Maybe,” Darcy agreed, dubiously. “Will you write her?”

“I think we should permit Kitty to. She’s wanted to do so.”

Darcy knew Elizabeth avoided adding that Mrs. Bennet was as apt to tear up a letter from her as give it to Lydia. Darcy could write, of course. Mrs. Bennet always accepts his mail, hoping for money. This seemed something that should come from one of Mrs. Wickham’s sister, though.

“I will write to Kitty, telling her it’s time, or perhaps go for a visit,” Elizabeth said. “She’s so large right now, she can’t come round to see us.”

“And Collins can’t be budged from her side. Not that I begrudge him. He’s indispensable to me and his parish most of the time. I don’t know how the man does so much, and raises all those children.”

“They’re very happy.” Elizabeth held up Mrs. Bingley’s letter. “Jane and Bingley are happy. Mary and Mr. Mitchel are happy.”

Taking her letter, Darcy set it and the one he held on a low table beside the couch. “I am very happy.” He slid an arm about Elizabeth’s shoulder, pulling her close. “Are you happy, Elizabeth Darcy?”

She smiled, snuggling against him. “I do believe I am the happiest woman in all the world.”

~ The End ~

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By Renata McMann and Summer Hanford

The Second Mrs. Darcy

Georgiana's Folly (The Wickham Coin Book I)

Elizabeth's Plight (The Wickham Coin Book II)

The above two books have been published in a single volume as:

Georgiana's Folly & Elizabeth's Plight: Wickham Coin Series, Volumes I & II

The Scandalous Stepmother

Poor Mr. Darcy

A Death at Rosings

Caroline and the Footman

Mr. Collins’ Deception

Mary Younge

Lady Catherine Regrets

The above four stories (and two additional stories) are collected in:

Pride and Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined A Collection of Six Short Stories

Entanglements of Honor

From Ashes to Heiresses

The Fire at Netherfield Park

Courting Elizabeth

Epiphany with Tea

Miss Bingley’s Christmas

Her Final Wish

Believing in Darcy

By Renata McMann

Heiress to Longbourn

Anne de Bough Manages

Three Daughters Married

The Inconsistency of Caroline Bingley

Pemberley Weddings

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Pride and Prejudice Variations: A collection of Short Stories

By Summer Hanford

Ladies Always Shoot First Half Hour Reads Series Page

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Captured by a Duke

To Save a Lord

One Shot for a Gentleman

Anything for a Lord

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From Ashes to Heiresses

In the wake of a devastating fire at Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane are taken in by their aunt and uncle in Meryton. Concerned about their situation, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley come to Hertfordshire, but not before Mr. Wickham attempts to use Jane’s heartache to his advantage.

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About the Authors

Renata McMann

Renata McMann is the pen name of Teresa McCullough, someone who likes to rewrite public domain works. She is fond of thinking "What if?" To learn more about Renata's work and collaborations, visit www.renatamcmann.com.

Summer Hanford

Summer Hanford writes Regency, fantasy and Pride and Prejudice variations. In May of 2017, her half-hour reads series, Ladies Always Shoot First, was released by Scarsdale Publishing. The first four books in her five book Thrice Born series are: Gift of the Aluien, Hawks of Sorga, Throne of Wheylia and Plains of Tybrunn. Book five is forthcoming in 2017. Shorter works appear in various magazines and anthologies, including Aoife's Kiss, Something Wicked Anthology Vol. II, Daughter of Icarus, The Ampersand Review and Nightmare Walkers and Dream Stalkers Vol. II.

Starting in 2014, Summer was offered the privilege of partnering with fan fiction author Renata McMann on her well-loved Pride and Prejudice variations. More information on these works is available at www.renatamcmann.com. Additionally, in 2016, Summer was lucky enough to be asked to join Austen Authors, a great place for fans to get more Jane Austen. To explore Austen Authors, visit www.austenauthors.net.

Summer is currently working with McMann, providing content for, creating and managing websites, and is the fantasy and science fiction faculty member at AllWriters' Workplace and Workshop, LLC., an international creative writing studio. She lives in Michigan with her husband and compulsory, deliberately spoiled, cats. For more about Summer, visit www.summerhanford.com.