by Jan H

Rating: PG-13

Summary: For reasons of economy, Elizabeth is forced to marry a man she thinks she does not love, but how long will it take for Darcy to convince her otherwise?

Chapter Five

"I wonder, sir, exactly why you chose to place Fiona in my service?"

He looked up from his plate with a strange expression. "What do you mean?"

"She informs me that you had removed her from Pemberley because of Georgiana. Now, you station her above stairs where she is sure to come in frequent contact with your sister."

"When I moved Fee to London five years ago, Georgiana was very young, far too young to understand the circumstances of an unmarried girl giving birth to someone's natural child."

"And I take it you feel that she is mature enough now to have that understanding."

"I do." He scowled and throwing down his napkin, he rose from the table. "Georgiana is no longer a naïve school girl, not after her experience with George Wickham."

I could tell he did not want to discuss the subject, but I persisted. "We must have some conversation about that very fact, Mr. Darcy. I fail to understand why you did not inform your sister before we married that Mr. Wickham is my brother-in-law."

"Frankly, I take no delight in relating that fact to anyone. But as for Georgiana, the answer is simple. When I left her to travel to Hertfordshire with the Gardiners, I did not even know whether you would accept my proposal. I prepared her with that truth - that I would seek your hand in marriage, but that I was unsure whether it would come about. In the event that you declined, I saw no reason to alarm her as to your connections. If truth be told, I was somewhat surprised that you did say yes."

I looked up to meet his eyes, but he had turned away with those words and walked to the fireplace. Had he asked me to marry him, hoping that I would say no? I could not believe that, for he had appeared far too persuasive at Longbourn. Or had he? I remembered his stern, cold looks when my uncle had first voiced the idea of such a marriage. When he asked to see me alone, Mr. Darcy had never offered any words of love, as he had done with his first proposal. It had all seemed more of a business arrangement, but why would he even make the offer if he did not want me? I had nothing to offer him; he would not profit from such a marriage. Suddenly I felt plain and undesirable, and the feeling hurt, why I knew not. I did not desire this man, did I? The very thought filled me with such turmoil, I resolved not to think on it.

"I fear that your decision may be causing your sister great distress. Pray, do enlighten me on your conversation with her wherein she learned of my connection to Mr. Wickham."

"She was troubled somewhat, but I assured her that we will not see Mr. Wickham, that she has nothing to fear in that regard. I trust that you will do all you can to reassure her."

"Certainly, but is it not possible that we shall see Lydia sometime in the future? If not at either of your homes, perhaps at Longbourn. You will allow me to visit my family, will you not?"

"Of course. I shall not prevent your seeing any of your sisters. I would think, however, that it shall be some time before Mrs. Wickham travels from her new home, being as great a distance as Newcastle is from either Longbourn or Derbyshire."

"Oh, I was not aware that you were privy to the site of the Wickhams' relocation."

He averted his face then and walked toward the door that led to the hall. "Yes," he muttered, "I knew that they moved there and that Mr. Wickham has gone into the regulars. Please excuse me."

He exited the room and I was left to wonder who had told him of this news. Probably Mamma. She seemed as proud of Lydia's marriage as she was of mine and to a more worthless man in England I am sure could not be found. I sighed as I rose from the table. I had made no progress in discussing Georgiana with her brother and my feelings were hurt at the way he had dismissed my apprehension. Did he think I was a miracle worker? That I could transform this shy, young girl into a poised, lively woman when I knew little about her? He could at least discuss her likes and dislikes with me.

And another thing - I was tired of his running off every time he did not care to continue a conversation with me; I resolved to question him further and quit the room in search of him. I supposed him to be partaking of an after-dinner drink, but when I did not find him in any of the public rooms, I asked a servant of his whereabouts and he directed me to a large room that I remembered on my tour of the townhouse as the game room. Sure enough, when I entered the doorway, Mr. Darcy was poised to make a shot at the billiards table. Upon seeing me, he straightened and bowed slightly. Our formality with each other seemed pretentious. I wondered if we would ever be at ease with one another. After all, we had been together every day for over two weeks now, and we were married . . . and yet not married.

"Do not interrupt your game," I said, advancing into the room. "I shall sit quietly until you finish."

"As you like," he said, bending over the table once more and making a shot that I assumed to be correct, as it hit another ball into the side pocket. I knew little of the game and watched with interest as he walked around the table, positioned his cue stick with studied precision and evidently executed perfect shots from the sound of balls smacking into each other and then dropping into the pockets around the table. He had removed his coat and I could not help but notice his excellent form. He was handsome - there was no denying it - and through his long-sleeved white shirt I could see the broadness of his shoulders and the manner in which his arms filled out his clothing. I wondered if such a figure was God-given or how he had come to possess such attributes. I also wondered what it would feel like to touch those arms, to experience their strength. While I was musing upon such idle thoughts, he stopped playing and stood there watching me. Upon becoming aware of his gaze, I started visibly. Could he read my mind? Of course not! Then why did I feel so guilty, so exposed? I spoke quickly to conceal my consternation.

"Do you enjoy other physical games, sir?"

"When in town, I engage in fencing at least twice a week."

I could think of nothing to say in reply and nodding, I turned away from his gaze.

"Have you ever played billiards, Elizabeth?"

I raised my eyebrows at such a question. "Hardly, sir. It is a gentleman's game."

"Would you like to try it?"

"Pardon?"

"We are quite alone. Are you not at all curious to try your hand?"

I was intrigued by such a suggestion and yes, I did want to do so. I rose and took the cue stick from his outstretched hand. He took my right hand, placed the stick between my fingers and then told me where to position my left hand.

"Now, place your hand upon the table and aim at the white ball nearest the red one."

I attempted to do so, but I felt quite awkward.

"You must bend over the table in order to do so. Here, let me show you," he said, taking the stick from me and demonstrating the correct posture. We were standing quite close, near enough that I could have reached out and touched him, touched that arm that proved so attractive. Such distraction limited my power of concentration so much so that when I attempted to copy his position, he stopped me once again.

"No, no, you must bend over closer to the table in order to make your aim."

I leaned over further, suddenly cognizant that the neckline of my gown proved far too revealing. I was thankful that Mr. Darcy stood behind me and not on the opposite side of the table, but then I thought of how the shape of my derriere must be exposed from the back. No wonder women did not play this game!

"You still do not have it right. Let me help you," he said, and to my utter amazement, I felt him lean over me, his left arm going around my shoulder as he clasped my left hand and moved it further back, while his right arm surrounded mine and he placed his hand over mine. I could feel the heat from his body, his breath warm upon my cheek, and the scent of his skin heady and pleasing, filling my senses until I found it hard not to tremble. "Now, pull the cue stick through your fingers like this," he said, moving it back and forth through our combined fingers, "keep your eyes on the ball, and shoot."

With a deft movement, we sent the white ball rolling across the table, where it hit a red ball neatly into the corner pocket.

"There! See how easy that was!" he said, as we both straightened up together. Was he as aware as I was that his arms were still around me?

"Yes," I managed to say, "easy, indeed with your guidance." I turned my face towards him and there was not an inch between his and mine. We gazed into each other's eyes for what seemed like minutes to me, but surely could not have been more than an instant before he released me and stepped aside. I knew my colour was high and so I averted my face, busying myself with replacing the cue stick in its holder.

"Shall you not try it again?"

"No, sir, I believe I have tried enough for now. Perhaps another night."

"Yes, perhaps," he said, keeping his gaze upon me. I looked up, meeting his eyes and wondered if it was billiards of which we spoke.

I excused myself and left the room, all too shaken by the feelings that engulfed me. I found my way into a small parlor where I had left some needlework; how grateful I was to find something with which to occupy my hands, but then how disconcerting it was to discover my fingers trembled too much to make a straight stitch. I had never experienced such feelings before, such attraction to any man, not even to the young swains who had courted me in earlier times. I liked dancing with handsome young men well enough, even flirting with them at balls and assemblies, but not one of them had ever affected me the way that Mr. Darcy had just accomplished. In one way the sentiment filled me with anticipation and in another with great dismay. Could such sensations occur with someone I professed to dislike, with someone I could not possibly love?

My thoughts were interrupted when he entered the room. I applied myself to my embroidery with a renewed focus while he poured himself a glass of Madeira. He offered me one, but I declined. I needed nothing more to cause my head to swim. I determined to discuss his sister with him once again, not only because we needed such discussion, rather because it was the safest subject I could think of.

"Sir, I would importune upon you to speak more about Georgiana. You have instructed me not to talk with her about Mr. Wickham, but I fear he is the object she most needs to discuss with me."

"I fail to comprehend your meaning."

"Your sister was most heartily misused by my brother-in-law. Can you possibly think that she does not hold that against me?"

"Why should she? You had nothing to do with it. Your sister married the scoundrel without your sanction, did she not?"

"She did not, sir. By the time Lydia and Mr. Wickham wed, I was all too relieved that he married her."

"That is not what I meant. Let me rephrase my words. You would never have desired your sister to elope with Mr. Wickham, would you?"

"Of course not, but Georgiana is unaware of that."

"But she is, for I told her that very truth on the day she departed with Fitzwilliam. The entire subject is one that causes her great pain and I do not want the issue even mentioned in her presence."

"Are you sure that her feelings correspond with yours? Could it be that she might benefit from talking of her fears and anxieties about the matter?"

"Absolutely not. I see no wisdom in such an approach. My wishes and directions remain as they were, Elizabeth. Do not mention Mr. Wickham to Georgiana, other than to assure her she need have no contact with him."

I glared at him. How could he be so infuriating in his demands, so insensible in his discernment? How did he know what Georgiana needed to talk about? For that matter, how did I? Once again, I thought of the morrow with diffidence.

The next day I arose late, my sleep having been disturbed for much of the night by strange dreams. At times I was chased by some unseen menace and at others, I turned willingly to embrace that same fearful, faceless person. I had not the slightest idea what it all meant and awoke exhausted.

Added to my fatigue was the fact that before I even went to bed, I had spent nigh on to two hours rummaging through my books and correspondence, searching out the letter Mr. Darcy had given me last April in Rosings Park. My efforts proved to be in vain. I longed to read the letter again, to once again review the history between the writer and Mr. Wickham. I am a great believer in reading between the lines and I wondered if that letter might enlighten me as to Mr. Darcy's character, for I certainly needed no further enlightenment as to Wickham's nature. I recalled the anger that had beset me upon reading it the first time - oh yes, I had been ashamed that I had ever believed Mr. Wickham's lies - but I confess that Mr. Darcy's further admittance that he had willingly kept Bingley and Jane apart had so infuriated me that I had thrown the letter aside after only one reading. Instead of carefully weighing his words, I had discarded them and evidently I had done an effective job of discarding the letter, itself. I wondered if I had forgotten it at Longbourn or even worse, left it at Hunsford parsonage. I vowed to write Jane this very morning and ask her to make a thorough inspection of my room and upon finding the missive, dispatch it to me immediately. I should like to do the same with Charlotte, but I feared she might read it or even worse, it might fall into the hands of Mr. Collins. I would begin with Jane, for I knew I could trust her to send it unread.

As for the present, I was in great need of a cup of coffee and so I descended the stairs to the sound of voices within the breakfast room. I assumed that Darcy's sister must have already returned and what must she think of me still abed at this hour? With a determined straightening of my shoulders and a forced smile on my face, I raised my head and resolved to face my new responsibility - that of winning over Georgiana.

I entered the room only to relax and beam at the welcome sight of Mr. Bingley. How relieved I was to see him instead of my sister-in-law.

"Miss Bennet!" he exclaimed. "That is, I should say Mrs. Darcy! How good it is to see you! Let me be the first to offer you my best wishes on the occasion of your marriage to this dull fellow here."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "I am very glad to see you as well."

"Only yesterday I returned to town and I could not believe the two of you married without letting me know. I have upbraided Darcy for the past half hour. Tell me, were all your sisters present at the wedding?"

"All but one, sir."

"Ah," he said, and I felt certain he was fishing for information about Jane.

"My youngest sister is lately married, herself, Mr. Bingley, and has moved to Newcastle with her husband. It was too far a distance to travel for my wedding and, in fact, I have not seen them since their marriage."

The relief on his face shone through in his eyes and even broader smile. "I see. And so all of your other sisters are well, I trust, and still reside at Longbourn?"

"Yes," I assured him. I shot a glance at Darcy, wondering if he had yet deigned the time appropriate to inform Bingley of his part in preventing him from seeing Jane when she was in London last winter. From the easy camaraderie between them, it did not appear that he had, for I felt certain Mr. Bingley would at least countenance some anger toward his friend at such deceit. Oh, how I hoped that discussion might occur between them today! But for now, I discovered that they were making plans to attend a concert together on Wednesday evening.

"Shall you not enjoy such an outing, Mrs. Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked.

"I do not know, sir. I have never been to a concert in London, but I look forward to it."

"Excellent," he rejoined. Just then a commotion in the hall signaled the return of Georgiana, accompanied by Colonel Fitzwilliam. They were greeted and offered refreshment, but it appeared that all had eaten except for me. I decided to forego the meal and made do with coffee. Darcy and Bingley made much of Miss Darcy and brother and sister were engrossed in conversation. I observed Bingley to see if his attentions to her were apropos of a man in love (as Caroline had insisted that he was), but I could ascertain no special attention other than that he paid to any other woman. Certainly, there was no comparison to the interest he had shown my sister when at Hertfordshire.

"And so, Mrs. Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, joining me in a cup of coffee, "how do you like married life by now?"

I blushed at the question and tried to smile. "I am much intrigued by London, sir. I have never been so excessively diverted. There is much to see and do. One is quite bewildered by all the choices."

He agreed with me, and I hoped that he did not wonder why I had answered his question by changing the subject. If so, thankfully he was too much of a gentleman to pursue it and we passed no little time in casual conversation. Three-quarters of an hour later, he arose and announced that he must return to his unit.

"Come and walk me to the door, Georgie," he said, holding out his hand to her.

"And why should I, Richard? Just so you can lecture me once again?"

"Lecture?" Darcy asked. "Has she needed lecturing, Fitzwilliam?"

"You would not believe how often, Darcy! I have spent two weeks trying to make a lady out of her, but I fear the task is impossible."

"Richard!" she cried, while blushing a rosy pink. "You will have Mrs. Darcy thinking I am a hoyden! Truly, I have needed no lectures. He simply enjoys having someone to harangue. I fear that he has been away from his troops far too long and I have borne the brunt of their absence."

"Go along with you, now, Missy," the colonel said, laughing as he escorted her out of the breakfast room. We could hear their gentle banter continue down the hall. Once again, I found myself envy their easy spirit with one another.

It was not long after the colonel left the house that Mr. Bingley and Darcy made plans to depart for their men's club. Out in the hall, Darcy kissed his sister's cheek, telling her how glad he was that she had returned.

"Then why are you leaving almost as soon as I arrive, Wills?" she asked.

"Appointments, my dear. Besides, this will give you time to acquaint yourself with Elizabeth." As soon as the door closed behind the men, however, she turned for the stairs and I could see that she was poised to flee my presence.

"Georgiana, might you accompany me to the music room? I found a fugue by Bach that I am unable to play. Shall you take pity and assist me with the fingering?"

I could see the hesitation in her manner, but the enticement of a piece of music proved to win her over. We sat down at the pianoforte together and she demonstrated the correct manner in which to play the selection.

"I fear I have not practiced near enough," I said. "It is evident that you have progressed much farther in your mastery of the technique required for this difficult a piece. Pray, tell me how many hours you devote to your art."

"It depends upon the day," she said. "When I am alone, as is often the case, I seem to lose myself in the music. At times half a day has gone by before I rise from this instrument."

I shook my head. "I am impressed, my dear. You are even more dedicated than my sister."

She stiffened at my remark and I wondered what I had said to cause such a response. "Your sister who married recently? Is that the one to whom you refer?"

"Lydia? Oh, no, Lydia has neither ear for music nor patience to practice. I refer to my sister, Mary. She is the one who loves to play."

"So you have two sisters then? I should have liked to have a sister."

"I have four sisters . . . and now, it appears that I have five."

When she looked at me with a question in her eyes, I said, "You, Georgiana, are now my sister, are you not?"

"Oh," she said softly. "I had not thought of that. I am afraid I do not know how to act with a sister."

"Well, it is not difficult, believe me," I said with a smile. "I hope that you and I shall be friends, as that is what the best of sisters become."

"I have never had many friends, Mrs. Darcy."

"Oh? And why is that? I do not understand."

"Most of the year I live at Pemberley with my companion, Mrs. Annesley. I have had a succession of companions, but never very many friends my own age. I am rarely in London, for my brother prefers that I stay in the country, and when in town, I see only his friends who are all much older than I."

"That is abominable! The house should be filled with young people your age. Why does not your brother see to it?"

"Wills is very protective. I . . . I have been taken advantage of in the past and he is very careful that it should not occur again."

"I can understand protection, but Georgiana, you must not be forced to live a solitary life."

"Oh, I am not complaining," she said quickly, rising from the piano stool and walking to a chair near the fireplace. "I love my brother."

"That is well and good," I said, following her, "but he cannot be your only companion."

"My mother died shortly after I was born and I fear my father did not know what to do with a daughter. He loved me dearly, but I think he and Wills have always been afraid something would happen to me, perhaps because of the loss of my mother. Thus, I have seen little outside of our home in Derbyshire and this house in London."

"But who did you play with when you were little?"

"As I said, I had a number of companions and governesses, of course, all much older women who were more like mothers than friends. About six years ago, however, I did make friends with one of the servants. I know that sounds strange, for such an attachment is not usually sanctioned, but we had a common affliction, having both lost our mothers when very young. She was a few years older than me and for some reason, we took to each other immediately and I loved her. When she could steal away from her duties, we would run and play in the orchard at Pemberley. She taught me to climb trees and wade in the shallow end of the pond, things that scandalized my governess."

I smiled with her at the memory, gratified that she would confide such a story in me. "And is she still at Pemberley?" I asked.

"No, she is here. In fact, Wills said he was giving her to you as your personal maid."

"Fiona?"

"Yes, does she satisfy you, for if not, I should be glad to have Fee transferred to my service?"

"She is quite satisfactory," I said, surprised at this turn in the conversation. "Fee" seemed to be a favourite of both brother and sister, it would seem.

"I hope that you do not object to the fact that she has a child," she said, blushing slightly and looking at her hands in her lap.

"As long as it does not interfere with her duties, I can see no reason to object."

"She is not married, you know." Georgiana pressed her lips together and kept her face averted.

"Yes," I said, "She informed me of that fact and your brother confirmed it."

"He did?" she said quickly, her eyes searching mine. "Did he tell you who the father is?"

I shook my head. "Do you know, Georgiana?"

"No," she answered, looking away, "although I have my suspicions."

Neither of us said anything more for a while and she soon excused herself, retreating to her room. I pondered our conversation no little time. My new sister did not appear to be as innocent of the world as Mr. Darcy would have her be. I wondered how far Mr. Wickham had gone in his betrayal of her and then, although I did not wish it, my mind wandered back to my questions about Fiona. Surely Georgiana could not possibly suspect that the maid's little William was named for his father.

I did not care for that distasteful thought and how it attempted to overtake me. In order to divert my attention, I picked up a book and walked out into the garden. An abundance of clouds hid the sun that day, but rain had not yet arrived and so I relished the solitary time among the fragrant shrubs and blooming plants. I wandered down the narrow walk that wound in and around the greenery and coming upon a stone bench hidden away in an alcove that backed up to a hedge over eight feet tall, I seated myself and opened my novel. It was light and entertaining and I anticipated a good read; however, naught but a few moments passed before my reverie was interrupted by what I presumed to be servants on the other side of the giant, dense hedges behind me. They were obviously digging and planting bulbs in the flowerbeds below. I could not see the men nor could they see me, for from their conversation it was evident they thought they were alone.

I attempted to disregard their talk and even stood up in search of a quieter nook until the nature of their conversation caught my complete attention. One man complained repeatedly that he, a house servant, should not be relegated to the duties of an under-gardener, while the other reminded him that it was his own fault that had caused his descent in position.

"How can you say that," the first man replied, "when I looked far more spiffy in my tails and wig than Duffy?"

"Ah, the only reason you be put in as footman in the first place were because you and Duffy matched in size," the other man said. "You never were no great shakes at your job, Johnny, my lad, and the master taken no account with your looks. A few weeks doing grunt work inside and out and maybe if your luck holds, Master Darcy will relent and put you back in your fancy uniform."

"The master - hah! He's as unfair as they come and he thinks himself so far above us. Well, I heard a thing or two about him that brings him right back down even with me."

"Careful, lad, you don't go talking about the master too loud. Someone might hear you other than me, and he's thought highly of by every other man about this place."

"And every gal," Johnny said, snickering.

"Aye, they all think he's a looker, that's for sure."

"I can't see that he's a beauty, but some say he does a lot more than look at the girls. That Scottish girly, the one with the by-blow - I heard talk the child might be the master's. Why else would he bring her to London and bide the brat? And what made her so swanky that warranted making a ladies' maid out of her?"

"Ah, don't be spreading your filthy talk around, Johnny. Just because the girl won't let you have your way with her doesn't mean you should talk so."

"It's not me that's saying it. I swear I heard it from one of the lads in the stable."

"Well, if you did, you be mighty sorry to repeat it is all I got to say. Now, get on with your work a'fore I calls the steward."

The man called Johnny muttered something under his breath, but I heard nothing more. I sat there as though frozen in place while they worked their way down the long hedge. The suspicions I had been unable to even utter had just been spoken aloud and in the vilest of terms. The man's ugly words harrowed up fears within me, fears that I had refused to entertain. Until that moment I had not even recognized that such thoughts might possibly take root within my heart and the awareness overwhelmed me with shame. To listen to servants' talk and give it credence was far below me.

I will not have this! I almost said aloud. He may have his faults, but Mr. Darcy cannot be this kind of man. I refuse to believe it, absolutely, completely. I shall put it out of my mind as though I never heard it! There, it is gone!

And with a valiant, intrepid determination, I rose from the bench and marched into the house, absolutely resolved at the time that I would never believe such rumors. No matter what my resolve, however, my heart was troubled, deeply troubled, and that very night an affliction beset me, an affliction I had suffered since childhood whenever I was profoundly distressed. I began walking in my sleep and the next morning I awakened to find myself . . . lying in Mr. Darcy's arms.


Chapter Six

The first thing I saw was his smile. I screwed up my eyes, certain that I was still asleep and dreaming, but then allowed myself to peep through my lashes, for one does not inhale the pleasing scent of a man's skin in a dream, and Mr. Darcy's scent not only filled my senses, it seemed to permeate every pore in my whole body. I opened my eyes wider. His fine lawn nightshirt was open at the neck and there in the hollow, I could see the slight shadow of his pulse beating. That was the moment I became conscious that I was lying in his arms, those very arms that only yesterday I had amused myself with possibly touching.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said, his voice barely more than a low whisper, deep and gravelly with early morning sleepiness.

I could not respond. In truth, I was in such shock that I wondered if I could recall how to talk. I could not take it in, his face so near to mine, my head lying on his shoulder, his dark curls mussed and falling across his forehead in the most provocative manner, the dark shadow of his beard outlining his face - how had this happened?

Slowly, very, very slowly, I sat up, clutching the sheet to my throat. I dared a frantic peek below the cover to assure myself that I was still clothed and closed my eyes in relief to see my nightgown. "Where . . . where am I?" I cried.

"In my bed," he replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his finger against my lips. "Now, before you attack me with accusations, hear me out. Sometime in the night, I awoke and found you right here, cuddled up against me. You came willingly, Elizabeth," he said, the smile continuing upon his countenance. "I did not coerce you in any way."

"But . . . how . . . what . . . why would I . . . did we? Help me! I cannot remember anything!"

"My, my, you certainly know how to flatter a man. Share his bed and not remember a bit of it!"

I searched his face, mine evidently reflecting horror, but that same tantalizing smile continuing to grace his. Then slowly I realized that he had made this last statement in jest. Mr. Darcy was teasing me!

"Sir, I pray you, be serious and tell me what happened."

He took pity on me then and began to explain my nocturnal wandering. "I confess that I was as surprised to find you in my bed last night as you are this morning. I attempted to talk to you, but I soon discerned that you were sound asleep. I had an uncle who was a somnambulist and his physician cautioned us to never awaken him as it might cause irreparable damage, so what else could I do other than allow you to share my bed?" He reached over and patted my hand. "Quit your fretting, Elizabeth, and be assured that nothing untoward happened between us, for I am not a man who takes advantage of an unconscious woman. Have you ever walked in your sleep before?"

I nodded and then sighed with relief, a sigh so heavy and obvious that I saw him struggle not to laugh. It was humorous; even I could acknowledge it, and as I saw him press his lips together to restrain his mirth, I began to giggle, softly at first, and then when he joined me, we both erupted in laughter. I had never seen him laugh before; in truth, I had never allowed myself such unbridled liberty in his presence. We both laughed until I was almost crying. When our amusement eventually slowed, I became all too aware of the intimacy of our postures, for there we sat, still facing each other right in the middle of Mr. Darcy's bed.

Suddenly, I blushed anew and began to look around me, searching for a way that I could escape his chamber without exposing myself. He startled me by reaching out and gently touching my face, turning it back toward him. "What is it, Elizabeth? What do you need?"

"A graceful way out of this predicament, I confess. Will you leave, sir, so that I might return to my room?"

"And expose myself in my nightshirt, Madam? Oh, I think not. You are the invader; it is up to you to leave."

"But . . . I am not dressed properly . . ."

"So I see," he said, smiling once more as his eyes wandered over me, lazily surveying my dishabille.

"Really, Mr. Darcy, you might take pity on me and act in a gentleman-like manner," I said.

He folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "Aye, I might, and then again I might demand that you get out of my bed immediately - were not those the very same words in which you addressed me when I inadvertently wandered into your bed in that wretched little inn where we spent our wedding night?"

"But you, sir, were drunk!"

"Yes, I was and consequently unaware of my actions, Elizabeth, just as you were last night. Shall we not forgive each other these lapses and admit that neither of us is perfect?"

I was unsure whether he was serious or still teasing me, but I took advantage of the offer and agreed with him. In turn, he pulled the counterpane loose from the bottom of the bed and suggested that I make use of it as a temporary robe. I wasted no time in wrapping it around my shoulders, slipped from the bed, and hurriedly walked through the open door between our chambers. I did turn and catch one last glimpse of him over my shoulder. He sat there, watching my retreat, that same beguiling smile playing about his countenance.

Goodness, he was incredibly fine to look upon first thing in the morning!

I stewed and fretted for some time about what I had done. The last time I had walked in my sleep occurred during the wee hours of the morning after my father's burial. That time I had actually awakened, lying on the ground beside his new grave. From then on, Mamma ordered the doors at Longbourn locked at night. What I wouldn't give now for a lock on the door between my chamber and that of Mr. Darcy! But then the memory of waking up beside him overwhelmed me with sensations so new and exciting, that I found my heart beating faster and my pulse racing. Oh, what a jumble my thoughts were in!

Later that day, my new gown arrived that had been ordered for Lord Matlock's ball. I welcomed the diversion and opened the box at once. A pearl gray silk, it was finer than any I had ever owned. I had prevailed and insisted that it be trimmed in black lace, but even so, the ornamentation seemed to make it more festive rather than somber, as I desired. When I tried it on, I gasped at my reflection in the glass. I no longer appeared as one in mourning and the change shocked even me. My maid was delighted and could not contain her excitement.

"Oh, Ma'am, you are truly lovely in that dress! Won't the master be pleased!"

Again, my pulse beat faster as I wondered at his reaction.

"And here, Ma'am, are the black feathers for your hair. Aren't they beautiful and with these silver combs, you will be outstanding."

"No feathers, Fiona," I said.

"But, Ma'am, they come with the dress."

"You heard me. I do not wear feathers."

"Not even to a ball, Ma'am?"

I silenced her with a look and she quietly returned the feathers to the box in which they had come. "Help me get out of this," I said. Realizing that I had spoken in irritation, I softened my voice as she unfastened the back of the gown. "I will use the silver combs."

This seemed to satisfy her, for she added, "Yes, Ma'am, and I will fix your hair in ringlets. Fancy up-dos are my specialty, you know. I used to practice on Miss Georgiana when she was a child and I am quite skilled, if I do say so, myself, Ma'am. The master would laugh so at our shows."

"Your . . . shows?"

"Yes, Ma'am, back at Pemberley I'd spend hours fixing up the little Miss's hairdos and she had to run into the master's study for his approval of each one. She called it putting on a "show," but it weren't, really. It were just her way of getting his attention."

Once again, I noted the tone of intimacy in the maid's voice as she spoke of Mr. Darcy and Georgiana. It was almost as though she were one of the family. And just last evening I had come upon the three of them laughing together in the great hall. It ceased when I appeared and with a nod from Darcy, Fiona had vanished to the back stairs; for some reason I felt left out, excluded from their shared affinity. I watched her now as she carefully hung my gown, smoothing the creases from the skirt. We were the same age and she was a pretty lass, red-haired with green eyes and fair, fair skin. Bearing a child had done nothing to hurt her figure and I could see how appealing she might be to any man. Suddenly, the hateful gossip I had heard the servant utter about her in the garden rushed up from where I do not know, almost smothering me with its intensity. I thought that I had rid my heart of the very idea of such ugliness, but now I felt an urgent need to see her child. I wished to see for myself if he had inherited his mother's red hair.

After dressing in my familiar black bombazine, I told Fiona she was free to go, but on second thought I decided to follow her out of the room and toward the servant's back staircase. "Do you have other duties now, or are you returning to your child, Fiona?"

"I was just going to check on him, Ma'am," she said, uncertainty evident in her voice. "Was there something you needed?"

"Actually, I am curious to see your son. May I accompany you?"

"Oh, no, Ma'am. That wouldn't be proper and all, you such a fine lady going to my quarters. But I will be glad to show him to you, Ma'am. Just let me run fetch him."

I nodded in agreement. "Bring him to the small parlor on the second floor."

I found a book I had left on the table near the fireplace and settled myself to read, thinking it would be some time before she brought the child. I had not long to wait, however, as I had scarce read two pages before she entered the door, a sturdy little boy clasping her hand.

"Mrs. Darcy, this be my Willie," she said. "Willie, do your bow like I learned you."

I smiled to see him pull his thumb out of his mouth and putting his hand to his waist, make an exaggerated bow before me.

"I am pleased to meet you, Willie," I said. He immediately popped his thumb back into his pink little mouth although his mother tried her best to keep him from it. As she bent over him, a strand of light auburn hair escaped from her bun and I saw it fall over his dark curls. He had beautiful large eyes, but they were not green. They were as dark brown as his hair, and Willie looked nothing like his mother. His face struck me with its familiarity and yet to whom, I could not bring myself to acknowledge.

"He is a fine boy, Fiona. Take him to the kitchen and give him a treat and have Adams summon the carriage for me. I have a call to make."

I returned to my room, donned my bonnet and grabbed my shawl. I had suddenly been taken by a great longing to see my own family, to find comfort in the familiar world from which I had been thrust. I instructed the driver to take me to Gracechurch Street and as quickly as possible. My aunt Gardiner met me at the door, for she was about to go out. She canceled her excursion when she correctly ascertained that I was in great need of her company. We embraced and sat together on the sofa for no little time as she peppered me with questions about the weeks of marriage I had endured so far.

We talked of my mother and sisters and I was gratified when she shared a recent letter she had received from Jane. I described Mr. Darcy's townhouse in great detail and I talked of Georgiana and how shy and reticent she was and what inadequacy I felt in fulfilling Mr. Darcy's wishes to be her friend. I avoided any reference to the intimate side of my union with Mr. Darcy; indeed, my aunt would never presume to intrude upon such private matters, but I could not conceal my troubled mood from her, no matter how brave my endeavors.

"Lizzy, tell me true, now," she said, "is this marriage as dreadful as you feared?"

"I am not mistreated, Aunt."

"You are not happy, though, are you?"

"I did not expect to be, and there are moments . . ."

"Your mother had such hopes for you and I confess I entertained them as well. You must know that your uncle and I encouraged this union only because we thought it would be best not only for your family, but for you."

"I know that is what you wished for, Aunt, but I had always hoped to marry for love."

The maid brought in a tea tray just then, and my aunt stopped to pour us both a cup, busily stirring in sugar cubes until the servant had left us alone. "Many people marry without love, Lizzy. I hope that you will eventually come to have a high regard for Mr. Darcy. When we were in Derbyshire, his behaviour to us was pleasing in every respect, as well as his understanding and opinions. He lacks nothing but a little more liveliness and I hoped you might teach him that. Believe me, your uncle would never have entertained his proposal if he had not known him to be an honourable man."

"And how, may I ask, does my uncle know Mr. Darcy's character? Hospitality and pleasant ways do not always reflect the truth of a man. He is quite taciturn, you know, and unrevealing, certainly not an easy person to grasp. What assurance does my uncle have that Mr. Darcy is an honourable man?"

The look on my aunt's face told me that I had said more than I should have. I had no intention of repeating idle gossip about Mr. Darcy and my maid or allowing my own fears to be spoken aloud. How could I have blurted out such a doubt? Surely she would now question me about things I must not speak of. Oh, why had I come here? I had allowed my need for comforting familiarity to lead me to a place where I could not afford to be candid, for I refused to accuse Mr. Darcy of a deed I hoped most desperately to be untrue.

"Elizabeth, I want to tell you something. Mr. Darcy and your uncle had an occasion to enter into an arrangement. Has he never spoken to you about it?"

When I answered in the negative, she looked surprised and somewhat troubled, but continued. "Then I am not at liberty to speak of it, but be assured that Mr. Darcy acted every bit the gentleman in all of his dealings with your uncle. It was this very occurrence that elevated him to such esteem in our eyes and provided the means by which we were receptive to his marriage proposal to you."

I was baffled by this news. "Pray, Aunt, tell me to what you refer. What possible business could my uncle have with Mr. Darcy?"

"I cannot, Lizzy," she said, rising and placing her cup and saucer on the table. She walked to the window that looked down on the busy street outside, avoiding my inquiring stare. "I am sworn to secrecy, but my dearest, do believe me. Mr. Darcy is a good man, no matter what vile things Mr. Wickham said about him."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I know very well about his dealings with Mr. Wickham."

"You do?" An expression of relief seemed to light up her eyes.

"Yes, how wrong I was to believe Wickham's lies about Darcy. He explained all of that to me in a letter last spring at Rosings Park and I have rued the day I ever believed my future brother-in-law's tale of woe. I know what a rogue he truly is. We have discussed this before, Aunt. What I do not understand is any further intercourse between Mr. Darcy and my uncle and your need to keep it from me."

That same worried look descended once more upon my aunt's countenance as I spoke and then she turned back to the window. "Please do not ask me about it, my dear. If it were up to me, I would tell you all that I know, but I am bound by my oath. I will say this: I refuse to believe that Mr. Darcy would do anything less than that which is admirable and worthy."

A moment later, two of my young cousins escaped their nanny and descended upon us and we were prohibited from any further serious conversation. I enjoyed the hilarity the children provided and by the time I took my leave, my heart was eased. Perhaps my aunt was right about Mr. Darcy and my fears were senseless imagination. After all, I trusted Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and if they thought so highly of him, then they must be correct in their assessment. I repeated that idea over and over during the carriage ride, vowing to believe it, and hoping that such repetition would cause it to be true.

Upon entering the townhouse, a servant informed me that Mr. Darcy wished for my presence in the garden. It was almost dusk and so I kept on my coat, but discarded my bonnet. The early November air was growing cooler with each day, but fortunately, this evening the breeze had died down. As I followed the servant out the side door that led into the small yard directly below my bedchamber window, I heard voices, that of Mr. Darcy and a child. We rounded the shrubbery and there I saw Darcy and Willie engaged in tossing a ball back and forth. The child delighted in this attention and eagerly ran and retrieved the object each time he missed a catch.

"Mrs. Darcy, sir," the servant announced.

"Elizabeth," Darcy said, looking me up and down as he usually did. "Willie, stop and greet your mistress." The child attempted to obey, but he dropped the ball just as he tried to bow, and naturally ran off after it instead of greeting me. What child would not? I smiled and Darcy did, too, a pleasant sight, indeed. He was a handsome man, there was no denying it, but when he smiled, he was almost beautiful. And to think, on that day I was graced with such bounty not once, but twice.

"Fee, come and take Willie in, now," Darcy said, and from around a bend in the walk emerged Fiona, a pair of shears in her hand and a basket of freshly cut blossoms on her arm. She curtsied to Mr. Darcy and to me and hurried her child inside.

Now why is he out here alone with Fiona and her son? I wondered. She is collecting cuttings, that is obvious, and why should Mr. Darcy not enjoy his garden? I silently chided myself at even the thought of any other conclusion.

Mr. Darcy stood there watching the little boy drop his ball once more on his way into the house, and then he invited me to take a turn about the garden with him. The late fall roses were almost gone, having discarded much of their red, pink, and white petals along the path. I inhaled deeply, savouring the last delicious scent. The fall mums were in full bloom nestled in a bed lining the clipped dark green hedges and all of it provided a beautiful, serene respite from the noise of the street heard in the background. If only I had never walked this walk before and heard the hateful gossip from the other side of the tall hedge. That memory would have its way and insisted upon intruding into this present idyll like a slithering snake, hissing with the threat of its poisonous venom; try as I might, I could not restrain my thoughts and, consequently, the turn of my conversation.

"You appear to take great delight in Fiona's child," I heard myself say.

"He is a fine boy."

"I have rarely seen a master so interested in a servant's child."

"It is not that rare. My own father, as you know, cared deeply for his steward's son."

"Like father, like son," I murmured.

Darcy stopped walking and turned to me. "What are you saying?"

"I only wonder if you intend to educate and provide a living for Willie as your father did for Mr. Wickham?"

"He shall learn to read and write, yes, and I shall provide him with a position in my service when he is of age, but no, I shall not send him to Cambridge along with my son, as my father did."

"And why not?"

"For one reason, we can well see what little good that did for Wickham. Elizabeth, I am not in the habit of sponsoring all of my servants' children, nor do I intend to begin doing so."

"But Fiona's child is not like all of your servants' children, is he? Do you not show him particular favour as you do his mother?"

"Perhaps I do, but only because I feel a . . . well, a partiality toward Fee."

"Partiality?" My agitation was growing.

"Georgiana has always loved her and it is hard not to appreciate one who makes my sister happy. The two of them together remind me of more pleasant times, days gone by when George Wickham and I were boyhood friends. And as for Willie, he certainly bears no responsibility for the circumstances of his birth. He is a fine boy."

"Yes, you said that earlier."

"Did I? Well, let us change the subject." I did not trust myself to say any more and so, we walked in silence for a bit before he spoke again. "You went out this afternoon, did you not?"

"I did."

"You told no one where you were going. Why?"

"Who should I have told? I was unaware that I am required to report the destination of my outings before leaving the house. I am a grown woman."

"It is only common courtesy."

"A courtesy you fail to perform."

"I beg to differ. Either Adams or my valet is apprised of my comings and goings, with rare exception."

"And how should I have known that? You have often left the house and I had no idea where you were. You might have told me before now that you leave such information with particular servants so that I would not be in need of canvassing the entire household as to your whereabouts. That, sir, would be common courtesy as I see it."

He stopped and stared at me. Had I gone too far? Would he now unleash his temper upon me? I might have feared such, except that my own self-justification was in full mode, fueled by an emotion I had not yet acknowledged. We stood there, returning each other's gaze without flinching and suddenly, right there on the garden walk I realized for the first time what I was feeling - I was jealous of Fiona; when I found her and Willie in the garden alone with Mr. Darcy, I did not like it. I did not like it at all! The very thought so alarmed me that I hurriedly retreated to a much more familiar sensibility. I could handle anger; anger felt good and right and just and so I stood my ground. This time, however, Mr. Darcy would not respond to my baiting; instead, I saw a slight twitching about his mouth.

"Touché," he said with just the tiniest hint of a smile. "I shall attempt to mend my ways if you will mend yours." I opened my mouth to make a retort, but he silenced me before I could speak. "And before you announce that you have no need of mending, I shall call upon you to exercise discretion. Since we have agreed to live under the same roof for the rest of our lives and, I might add, even share the same bed at times, shall we endeavor to practice the niceties of polite society? Will it not make things more pleasant?"

I closed my eyes at the reminder of this morning's mortification, my head beginning to ache with the strain of tension. "Very well," I said flatly, and let it go at that.

We walked on a bit farther and coming upon a bench placed beneath a large deciduous tree that had already lost most of its leaves, he indicated that we should sit. From there, we could see the evening sky, the reds, oranges, and blues of the setting sun streaking across it in magnificent display. London's houses were so close, I rarely caught a glimpse of the sky, it seemed, and I missed the sunsets at Hertfordshire. How pleasant it would be if we could just sit here quietly for a while, but no, he would speak.

"Will you tell me where you went?" he asked again.

"To Gracechurch Street."

"To visit the Gardiners? How are they?"

"Well," I replied, looking at him more closely, surprised that he should take any interest in my connections.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are fine people. We should include them when next we entertain."

"And when might that be?"

"Sometime next week after the Earl's ball. I think we should host a small dinner party. Will you see to it?"

"Of course, but shall my aunt and uncle be the only guests?"

"No, of course not. We shall invite Bingley and his sister, the Hursts, and Lord and Lady Matlock and Fitzwilliam, as well."

I could not believe my ears. "You wish to include the Gardiners in such a gathering?"

"Yes, I can see no reason not to."

"Shall it not embarrass you, having such low connections? My uncle is in trade, you know."

"The Gardiners should never embarrass you or me. I shall be glad to have them in my house."

I gave thanks that I was sitting when Mr. Darcy relayed this bit of news. What had happened to the censure he was sure to endure at the hands of society upon marrying a woman with such lowly relatives? Had he not listed my family's improprieties last Easter when he proposed to me at Hunsford, and clearly pointed out that I could not expect him 'to rejoice in the inferiority of relations whose conditions in life were so decidedly beneath his own?'

"Mr. Darcy, my aunt told me that you had business with my uncle in the recent past."

He stood up abruptly, turned his back, and I could not see his countenance. "What else did she tell you?"

"She refused to relate the particulars of your transaction because she said it was of a confidential nature. It is only natural that I am curious. Will you tell me of it?"

"No." He turned and offered his hand, indicating that we should go. "It was a private affair and not worth repeating."

"She said it was because of that occurrence that my uncle regards you as an honourable man."

Darcy smiled slightly. "Does he now? An honourable man, hmm. Well, I shall say the same in return. I esteem your uncle an honourable man as well and one I shall be ever glad to have present at my table and among my guests. Now, shall we go in? The light is failing."

I followed him inside, more confused than ever. The man was an enigma - so many questions and precious few answers.

That night after I had done with Fiona's services and before I climbed into bed, I pushed and pulled a large chair across the room, stationing it squarely in front of the door between Mr. Darcy's chamber and mine. I then retired for the night, quite tired, yet unable to sleep. I turned from side to side; I plumped my pillows not once, but twice; I turned back the top cover and then pulled it back up around me; at last, I arose and tugged at the chair until I had returned it to its rightful place.

After all, I could not be held responsible for where I ended up when walking in my sleep.


Chapter Seven

On Wednesday evening we attended a concert at the assembly rooms in Drury Lane. A large company attended, one of which was Lady Jersey, whom Caroline Bingley pointedly informed me was a Viscountess. She was granted, of course, the choicest of seats while the rest of us filed in behind her party. Caroline pushed her way forward so that she might sit directly behind the Viscount's wife, maneuvering Georgiana along with her and insisting that she sit between her brother and herself, fawning over the poor girl excessively. I could see her suffering at such oppressive attentions, but Mr. Darcy and I were situated in the row behind and I was at a loss as to how to rescue her. Caroline remained frosty in her attentions to me, except to enlighten me on rank and privilege and to note how pale - "almost to the point of illness" - my complexion appeared contrasted with my black gown. I doubted, however, that her feigned concern for my health fooled anyone.

She flirted with Mr. Darcy before we went in and again while the musicians tuned their instruments, turning around in her seat to bestow adoring looks upon him as she talked and laughed far too loudly. I saw Bingley give her several pertinent frowns, as she persisted in calling attention to herself, but he may as well have been gazing at the floor. I thought of how she had sneered in disdain when Lydia had acted up with some of the officers at the Netherfield ball, and there she was exhibiting almost the same behaviour.

Relief appeared with the beginning of the concert and the quieting of the entire audience. I was much impressed with the artistry of the soloist. Her Italian art songs and arias were exquisite and I discovered that Mr. Darcy was so well versed in the language that he offered to interpret the lyrics for me while she sang and, naturally, I accepted for I knew but little of the language. In order to do so, it was necessary for him to lean his head quite close to mine so that his soft words would not detract from the performance.

The woman sang in a clear, vibrant soprano, "Sento nel core certo dolore, che la mia pace turbando va, splende una face che l'alma accende, se non e amore, amor sara." ¹

I listened closely as Mr. Darcy whispered, "I feel in my heart a certain sorrow, which goes on disturbing my peace; there shines a torch which inflames my soul . . . if it is not love, it will be love soon."

I was unsettled at first by such intimacy, his breath warm upon my ear, and the essence of his scent all about me, but I did not object; indeed, I found myself almost bewitched by the tender, romantic words of the songs, a meaning I would have missed if not for his translation. His voice was as low and resonant as the diva's was high and clear and I thought how lovely it would be to hear such words on his lips if we truly cared for each other.

"Caro mio ben, credimi almen, senza di te languisce il cor." ²

"My dear beloved, believe me at least, without you my heart languishes."

With that last phrase, I turned and found him looking directly into my eyes as he spoke. That proved to be far too intense an encounter and I immediately refrained from looking at him, feeling a flush sweep over my body, exposing my consternation by my rosy countenance.

After the concert, we mingled with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Bingley at the tables filled with punch and light refreshments. While I was engrossed in conversation with Mr. Bingley, Caroline returned to her pursuit of Mr. Darcy by insisting that he and Georgiana meet Lady Jersey's niece, whom Caroline evidently knew slightly. She linked an arm in each of theirs and actually pulled them away from our party and across the great room to the throng surrounding the nobility. It was a direct snub toward me evident to all and I suppose I should have been angry, but in my opinion it was of little consequence.

I almost felt sorry for Caroline. She had been out in society for some time, I felt sure, and the threat of spinsterhood loomed over her as it would for any woman her age. Now that Mr. Darcy was no longer available, she needed to broaden her vision and encourage other men who might be induced by her fortune to seek her hand. What possible motivation could she have in continuing her attentions to Mr. Darcy? Did she envision my early death? I would have experienced a chill at the very thought, except for the fact that I was a healthy woman. And if she was hoping for the event to happen in childbirth, how disappointed she would be to know such possibility did not exist - for one must suffer exposure before contracting the condition.

Mr. Darcy's requirement that I eventually present him with an heir intruded upon my thoughts and I felt myself grow quite warm at the thought of what that would entail. Three weeks ago the very idea would have alarmed me, but now I felt the lock upon my heart slightly, oh so slightly, loosened. I certainly would not welcome such an event, but I no longer cringed at the thought. No, that is incorrect, for I had never cringed at the thought; I had been far too occupied being angry. And now with memories of his touch still alive in my heart, and at times like this evening when his head inclined close to mine and his warm, caressing voice repeated words of love in my ear, I found it difficult to remember exactly why I ever disliked him.

Georgiana and I both slept late Friday morning, descending the stairs together around 11:00 o'clock for breakfast. We had only taken two or three steps before the sound of forceful argument stopped us. It came from the drawing room below, one of the voices definitely belonging to Darcy and the other filling me with familiar apprehension and driving Georgiana to turn and flee in the opposite direction. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's imperious demanding tone was unmistakable!

"Where are you going, Georgiana?" I cried.

"S-h-h! Do not let my aunt hear. I shall have Cook send my breakfast to my room." With an expression pleading for my cooperation, she vanished down the hall.

I sighed and proceeded toward the lion's den, or should I say lioness, for from what I could hear, Lady Catherine was already attempting to preside over this house just as she did every house into which she entered. I stopped outside the open door and listened, for neither of the parties had yet seen me, although I had a clear picture of their confrontation.

"It is insufferable!" she cried. "The son of my late sister aligning himself with such an upstart is unbelievable! When Mr. Collins told me of this arrangement, I imagined it a scandalous falsehood and now you have the gall to tell me it is true. You have actually married this girl?"

"I have," Darcy said.

"How can you stand there and make such an announcement without any sign of remorse? Surely, you were tricked into such an agreement. Her arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made you forget what you owe yourself and all your family. She must have drawn you in."

"I assure you, Madam, that is not the case. There was no trickery, no infatuation, no practicing of arts, as you put it. And if there has been any allurement, it is only that of her own good character and fitness to be my wife." Darcy stood at the fireplace, his hands behind him, but when he turned I could see how tightly he clenched his fists.

Lady Catherine stood opposite him beside a small table on which she tapped her forefinger as she continued to list her objections to me. "But she has no family, connections or fortune! Is this to be endured? It must not, it shall not be! You must secure an annulment at once, Darcy! I absolutely insist upon it!"

"And I respectfully insist that you discontinue giving such orders in my house, Aunt. I am a man full-grown, beholden to no one, and I shall marry whomever I please. I have already married and I shall not make any provision to end the marriage. I must beg you, therefore, not to importune me any farther on the subject." He then offered her his arm as though he would escort her from the room.

"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no stranger to the particulars of Miss Bennet's youngest sister's infamous elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expense of her uncle. And is such a girl to be your sister? Is her husband, the son of your father's servant, to be your brother? Heaven and earth - of what are you thinking, Nephew? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"

"You have said quite enough, Madam," Darcy said, his eyes black and narrowed. "I shall hear no more of this. I beg your leave, Ma'am." He started toward the door and saw me standing there, knowing I had heard these terrible accusations. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he did, Lady Catherine also became aware of my presence.

"Aha! So there she is! Eavesdropping at the door on a private conversation."

"It can hardly be considered private, Lady Catherine, when the pitch and volume of your voice may be heard throughout the house," Darcy said. "We can have nothing further to say to each other. Good day."

He strode toward me and taking my arm, hastened me from the room, but his aunt was not so easily deterred, for she followed, pointing her umbrella in our direction as though to physically stop us. "This will not do, Darcy! I shall not have Georgiana brought up in that girl's presence and under her influence! I shall take steps to have her removed to Rosings and my care. It is the least I can do for your poor mother."

Darcy halted and turned to face her once again. "And just how do you propose to do that, Lady Catherine? I am my sister's legal guardian."

"But you are not the sole guardian. My nephew Fitzwilliam shares your responsibility and once I meet with him, he and I shall journey to my solicitors and petition the court to have you declared unfit."

"Unfit?" Darcy was incredulous. "You would attempt such an assignation of my character, Aunt?"

She blinked several times and modified her tone slightly, causing it to be more placating. "Darcy, you know how dear you are to me. Can you think this is my desire? Why, it was the wish of your mother and I from your birth that you would one day become my own son, wedded to my dear Anne. But if you persist in this ill-judged alliance, I cannot in good conscience allow Georgiana to remain in this house, exposed to this unfeeling, selfish girl's lack of character. Duty and honour forbid it. And I am sure Fitzwilliam will be in agreement with me, as well as the Earl and Lady Matlock."

"Then with all due respect, Madam, go to it," Darcy said evenly, indicating with an outstretched arm that she should exit through the door in which she had entered. With an obvious sniff at me, Lady Catherine raised her head and turned for the door. Darcy, however, had one more thing to say. "Be advised, however, that Colonel Fitzwilliam stood up with me at our wedding, congratulating the both of us on our union, and his parents have already called upon us and given us their best wishes. In fact, they have invited us to a ball to be held at Eden Park tomorrow evening."

Lady Catherine's eyes bulged and her mouth flew open, but she could not speak. Truly, I feared for a moment that she suffered from apoplexy, but only for a moment. "And this is your final resolve, Darcy! Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified at Rosings. Neither you nor Darcy will be welcome there again until my nephew recovers his senses! I take no leave of either of you. You deserve no such attention. I am seriously displeased."

And with head high and nose even higher, she stalked out the door.

Darcy was seething; I knew not what to say, and so, I waited. He stood there, watching his aunt's retreat and at last said, "I apologize for the ill-treatment Lady Catherine has rendered you, Elizabeth. I shall make it a point from this time forward to refrain from criticism of your family. None of them can even begin to exhibit such abominable behaviour as my aunt."

He bowed stiffly and strode briskly up the staircase. A flood of emotions fought their way through my being and I neither knew whether to feel relief or anguish. I made my way into the breakfast room and sank upon a chair, grateful for the cup of coffee the servant placed before me. I supposed Lady Catherine would be ill-pleased at the news of Darcy's marriage to me, but I never dreamed it would cause her to break relations with him . . . or that in such a rift, he would choose in my favour and defend me with such fervor. It seems I had a champion!

The next day, Saturday morning, presented the first occasion for Georgiana to truly warm toward me. It even resulted in her discarding formality and addressing me by my Christian name. All week she had, in her own gentle and unassuming manner, pestered her brother for permission to attend Lord Matlock's ball, but Mr. Darcy refused, adamant that she was far too young.

"But I am almost 17, Wills," she said that morning at the breakfast table for the umpteenth time. "My birthday is less than two months away."

"You have not yet come out, Georgiana, and I shall not have you endure the scrutiny of the ton until you have."

I was surprised that the young girl even wanted to attend the dance, as she had proved far too reticent to enter into any other social obligation with alacrity, but for some reason she would not give over about this evening's entertainment.

"I shall be out after Easter," she said. "You told me that you and Lady Matlock have already settled upon the date I am to be presented. That is scarce six or seven months from now. What could it hurt for me to attend tonight's ball?"

"I shall not have every fortune hunter in town eyeing you before that time!" Mr. Darcy slammed down his cup of coffee with such emphasis that it sloshed out upon the tablecloth. "You are not going, Georgiana."

"Even if I promise to dance with no one other than the Earl or Richard?"

"Once you dance with anyone, you shall be fair game for every young blade in the city."

"I fear there will be a scarcity of young blades in attendance tonight," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, entering the dining room at that very moment without waiting to be announced. "Good morning, Mrs. Darcy, Georgiana, and you, my overwrought and highly agitated cousin." He smiled with this last remark, as I did. "I am not accustomed to seeing your colour so high this early in the morning. Pray, tell me what all the racket is about."

"Come in, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said, his tone less inviting than his words.

"Will you not join us in some breakfast?" I offered.

"A cup of coffee will suffice, but someone take pity and explain what has my cousins at each other's throats. No, let me guess: Georgie wants to attend my parents' ball and you do not want her to, Darcy. Am I correct?"

"You are," I said, speaking quickly before either of the other two resumed their carping.

"Wills is being somewhat stubborn, Richard. He says I am too young to go and I am almost 17!"

"The fact is you are now 16, Georgiana," Darcy said, "and too young to attend a ball. That is all there is to it."

But his sister would not let it rest. Her obstinacy truly surprised me, for I had never seen this side of her. "I have even promised to dance with no one other than the Earl or you, Richard, and still he will not relent. Pray, talk to him."

"Ah," the colonel said, "and what makes you think I wish to spend the evening dancing with the likes of you?"

Her only reply was to make a face at him and I could not refrain from laughing. Darcy, however, did not.

"If she dances with anyone, she will be fair game for any who ask," he repeated. "You know that as well as I do, Fitzwilliam."

"Well, that may be, but I have it on very good authority that tonight's ball shall be quite intimate. The majority of the ton have not yet returned to town what with this being the season for grouse and pheasant as well as partridge; most every young so-called blade remains in the country in search of game they can shoot rather than dance with."

"I fail to see why your parents are even hosting this ball then," Darcy said.

"Well, it happens to be in honour of your new wife."

I was surprised to hear this and evidently so was Mr. Darcy. We both looked at each other as though to ask why? Fortunately, we remembered that we were a newly married couple and so recovered in time to make the appropriate responses of gratitude.

"My mother knows that Elizabeth will be unable to meet the majority of our friends because of their absence, but after all, she is a new bride and we must make her feel welcome."

"Thank you, Colonel," I said, "that is most kind."

This provided even more impetus for Georgiana's argument. "And if I stay at home, think what impression that will give, Wills. People will say I do not welcome my sister-in-law."

"They will say nothing of the sort," was his only reply. He rose from the table and headed for the door and I could see that he was not open to any more discussion.

"Mr. Darcy," I said before he left the room, "might I offer a compromise?" When his response was nothing more than a frown, I ventured on. "If Georgiana agrees not to dance at all, but to remain in my company, would you allow her to attend?"

"But that would limit you," he said. "Shall you give up dancing the entire evening just so she can go?"

"I shall. I am not inclined to dance and as we both are well acquainted with your abhorrence of the art, we may be quite content remaining on the side with her."

"Well," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "I trust the two of you will concede and at least lead the first dance, as is the custom when you are the honorees. And if you do, I suppose I might sacrifice myself and tend the child during your absence." Once again, Georgiana screwed up her face at him, but he only laughed.

"Very well," Darcy said, "if you are sure about this, Elizabeth, I shall go along with it."

"I am sure," I said, our eyes upon each other, transmitting an unspoken understanding between us that united us in our solicitude for Georgiana. He turned away at last and departed the room with Colonel Fitzwilliam following.

"And now, young lady," I said, turning to my sister-in-law, "whatever shall you wear at this late date?"

She smiled the biggest smile I had yet seen on her pretty face. "My aunt has already taken me shopping, Elizabeth. I returned with a beautiful blue ball gown. Shall we go up and see it?"

I agreed, of course, thrilled that she had called me by name, and we spent the morning selecting gloves and shoes and ribbons for her hair from the vast array she had brought home from her visit with Lady Matlock. We actually giggled at times during our visit and I felt my heart lighten almost as it had when at home with my younger sisters.

That evening Fiona did her best with my unruly curls and when she was through, I was surprised to see how well she had succeeded in taming them into a pleasing array. The silver combs provided just enough sheen in my dark hair to suit me. When I stepped into the silver gray gown and she fastened up the back, I caught my breath at my image in the floor-length mirror. The touch of black lace inside the silk neckline proved much more provocative than demure and it appeared to me that the scoop neck was cut even lower than I remembered. Lady Catherine's angry accusation that I had won her nephew by my 'arts and allurements' suddenly echoed in my ears. If Fiona had not been there, I think I would have immediately changed the dress for my familiar black. I longed for the safety of its dark concealment. But the maid was all too excited and I could not think of an excuse for such action.

"Oh, Ma'am, you will turn every head in the place tonight, you will!"

I dismissed her remark and sent her into the dressing room in search of my wrap, but only so that I might quell the tremor I felt upon seeing my image in the mirror. Why had I ever consented to leave off my mourning clothes? And why did I feel so exposed having done so?

She had just returned with the shawl when we heard a knock at the interior door between my room and Mr. Darcy's bedchamber.

"That be the master," Fiona said, smiling, as she hurried to turn the knob. Sure enough, when she opened the door, there he stood dressed in formal evening clothes, more handsome than ever. "Here she is, sir," Fiona said. "All ready for the ball."

"Thank you, Fee," he said, keeping his eyes on me. "That will be all."

I suppose that she curtseyed before departing, but in truth, I could not tell you, for I was not conscious of anyone other than Mr. Darcy. His presence filled the room until the walls suddenly seemed much too close. He walked toward me, his eyes sweeping up and down my form. I waited. Was he displeased? I could not tell, for he did not smile or frown. He just looked and looked and looked.

At last, I broke his gaze and lowered my head. I knew I was blushing at his inspection and if he were to reprimand me for my choice of gown, then let him do so at once so that I might change back into my familiar dress and be done with it. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his rebuke, but they flew open when, instead, I felt his hands at the base of my neck. He stood very close behind me and encircled my neck with a delicate gold chain containing a perfect black pearl quite large in size, encrusted with diamonds, one on either side. I gasped at the beauty of the rare pearl that appeared to match my gown in colour, a luminous silver gray.

"I am glad I chose this trinket now that I see your choice of gowns," he said. "Perhaps our tastes are more in common than we first thought."

"It is a beautiful necklace," I said, fingering the pearl as it lay against my bosom. "Thank you."

"You are welcome and thank you for wearing something other than that blasted black."

No compliment. No kind words about my appearance. Not one solitary word of approval other than I was not wearing black. Well, why should I have expected more? This is Mr. Darcy, after all, I reminded myself. I gathered my shawl from the bed and swept out the door he held open, my head up and my teeth placed tightly together. Lord, give me strength to get through this night without throttling him!

Georgiana chattered throughout the carriage ride to Lord Matlock's estate, an unusual amount of conversation on her part, for which I was grateful. She talked because of being nervous while I remained silent for fear I would say more than I should. Darcy answered in one-word sentences except when he reminded her more than once of her agreement to remain on the sides of the room within my view at all times. Even his dour mood could not dampen her excitement, though, and I was glad to see that at least one of us looked forward to this evening.

When Lord and Lady Matlock had called earlier in the week, I was glad to learn that she was nothing like Lady Catherine, and Darcy had said privately that her thoughtful demeanor reminded him of his late mother. She was kind and welcoming, although somewhat curious as to my background. The Earl seemed much like Colonel Fitzwilliam with his genial manner and I soon felt at ease around him. Their estate just outside London reflected their status in society, for it was grand enough for any lord and lady. Tonight it shone with candles and crystal, elaborate autumn floral arrangements on each table, and a polished inlaid walnut floor in the huge ballroom awaiting dancers made up from the throng of richly dressed people surrounding the room. If this was considered an intimate gathering, I wondered at the size of a grand ball. Before the first dance began, I had met more couples than I would ever be able to remember. If Mamma could see me now, would she not be undone by such fancy finery! It would take her a full two days just to describe the lace on the ladies' gowns to my Aunt Philips.

I rejoiced to see Mr. Bingley striding across the large room, a smile stretching his countenance from ear to ear.

"Mrs. Darcy, I say you look exceptionally well tonight," he said, bowing to me. "And you, as well, Miss Georgiana," he added upon seeing her.

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley," I replied. "Are your sisters and Mr. Hurst not with you tonight?"

He looked around and nodded across the room at Caroline whom I happened to know had seen me when I first entered the room, but had not as yet, bothered to speak. She could not escape now and so she and Mrs. Hurst made their way through the throng and greeted us. Caroline was in her usual feathers and orange satin and Mrs. Hurst's ample bosom almost fell out of her low-cut purple velvet dress. Well, at least these people and their clothing were familiar to me. I endured the sisters' false compliments as well as I could and when Caroline stood far too close to Mr. Darcy than any single woman should, I simply turned my head. Tonight I would have given him to her in a heartbeat. Perhaps he preferred orange to gray.

"She is tolerable, I suppose, but not pretty enough to tempt me." Suddenly those words from a year ago reverberated in my ears. Had he dared to utter that contemptuous statement again? I turned to look at him out of the corner of my eye, but he was deep in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Was I now fancying voices?

Just then the musicians finished tuning their instruments and the first dance of the evening began. The Earl motioned for Mr. Darcy and I to lead the way and I took a deep breath, as he held out his hand to me. We circled the room and then lined up with the other couples following us. As the sprightly tune began, we moved together in a semi-embrace before parting to move back into position. I held my breath when his arm encircled my waist, but fortunately, we had only to look into each other's eyes but a moment. The number was long and I held hands with many men, making my way down the line opposite Mr. Darcy. Each time I met my temporary partner's smile with one of my own, only to have it banish upon facing Darcy's somber countenance. Did the man never smile when dancing? Could he not at least pretend some enjoyment of dancing with his wife?

At the end of the number, we both let out relieved sighs. Neither of us had said one word to the other during the entire half hour of the dance. He returned me to Georgiana's side while he went in search of the punch bowl. I politely begged off from dancing with several gentlemen who presented themselves before me, and guided Georgiana to the far side of the room where we might sit for a moment. Mr. Darcy soon found us with cups of punch and, naturally, his presence brought more guests to engage us in conversation

We went into dinner at the appointed hour and Lady Matlock's table was laden with the season's bounty. Turkey, venison, and lamb along with white soup, of course, fall vegetables, and at least three different puddings. Iced cakes were served for dessert, as well as platters heaped with squares of marzipan.

Caroline Bingley managed to sit upon Mr. Darcy's right and she attempted to monopolize his attention throughout the courses. I found myself at Lord Matlock's left and was fascinated at his knowledge of Hertfordshire. It seems he had spent a great part of his youth there on hunting expeditions and he was well acquainted with the countryside. We spent no little time extolling its virtues.

"Hertfordshire may be a hunter's delight," Caroline interrupted once, "but it cannot compare in beauty with Derbyshire and Pemberley, in particular, is that not correct, Mr. Darcy?"

"I am somewhat prejudiced," Darcy said, "so it will not do to ask my opinion."

"And I suppose you will answer in the opposite," Caroline said, directing the supposition to me. "Or have you even seen Pemberley as of yet?"

I knew she was fishing to know more of my history with Darcy. "Not as yet, Miss Bingley," I replied, "but some of my family has and they assure me Mr. Darcy does not exaggerate its beauty."

"Your family has visited Pemberley?" Caroline asked, a doubtful look in her eyes. "Pray, let me guess which of all your sisters has been so fortunate? Surely not the youngest."

Before I could answer, Darcy did so. "My wife's aunt and uncle visited the estate last summer, Miss Bingley. Do you not remember? You were there at the time."

"No, I do not, sir."

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner dined with us two, perhaps three times, I believe."

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner? The people who reside near Cheapside were your guests at Pemberley?"

"They were. Oh, yes, now I remember. You and your sister made a side trip to Ashbourne that week to visit your aunt. Forgive me, you were not there after all, so how could I expect you to remember? 'Tis a shame, for they are delightful people. You must meet them sometime."

Caroline's mouth remained agape much longer than it should have before she was able to respond. "I have met Mrs. Gardiner," she finally said and returned to her plate. She was noticeably quieter for the remainder of the meal.

The evening progressed with little more to report except that I could not keep from noticing Georgiana's toe tapping in beat with each number. The child wished to dance ever so much as my younger sisters and I thought it harsh of her brother to forbid it. Toward the end of the evening he had wandered from our presence and was in deep conversation with several acquaintances. Colonel Fitzwilliam had joined Georgiana and me, and he spent no little time teasing her as to how popular she should be once she was out. He often whispered in her ear and caused her to laugh and once again, I found myself envying their gentle camaraderie.

"Elizabeth," Georgiana said, "will you excuse me while I freshen up?"

I nodded and turned my face back to the crowd, conversing with Lady Matlock and another of her friends she wished me to meet. When I glanced around sometime later, neither my sister-in-law nor the colonel could be seen. I knew sufficient time had elapsed for her to return by now and so I began searching the room for her blonde curls. It would not do for Darcy to discover her absent from my company. I made my way around the perimeter of the ballroom, but she was nowhere to be found. At last I exited the room into the large gallery outside where I stopped in surprise at the sight before me, for there was Georgiana dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, the two of them all alone. I could not help but smile, for they made a pretty couple and the colonel was quite adept at maneuvering the steps so that there was no need to change partners as was the custom among the dancers inside. Neither of them saw me and I slipped back inside the doorway so that I would not spoil their fun.

When the music ended, Fitzwilliam bowed over her hand and kissed it. She laughed gaily and I rejoiced to see her pleasure.

"Oh, Richard," she said, "what fun! May we do it again?"

"As long as we are not found out, Sprout," he replied, looking up and down the hall. I pulled back even farther so they would not see me, and when the next air began, he embraced her and began the dance. I turned back to the inside room and prayed that Darcy might still be engrossed in conversation, but it was not to be, for here he came striding across the room straight toward me.

"Where is Georgiana?" he said immediately.

"She excused herself for the moment," I said, moving to stand between him and the entry to the hallway.

"Well, shall we take the opportunity and dance this number? I believe it to be the last of the evening."

I nodded quickly, and with an anxious glance over my shoulder, I allowed him to lead me once more to the floor. This time he appeared relaxed, perhaps because the ball was almost over. He even smiled slightly and his touch was gentle, almost caressing. I found myself caught up in the beauty of the music, for I loved to dance, and however much he disliked the art, he was quite skilled in his performance. Suddenly, I wished this dance would never end. Although we did not talk, there was no need for we seemed in harmony, complementing the other perfectly, our bodies in tune with both the music and each other.

Upon returning home, Georgiana kissed her brother's cheek and thanked him again for allowing her to attend the ball. She then squeezed my hand and ran up the great staircase to her bedchamber.

"Elizabeth, I am glad you persuaded me to change my mind about Georgiana attending the ball," Darcy said, as we stood before the fireplace in the drawing room. "I have not seen so much colour in her complexion in months, nor such sparkle in her eyes. One would think she had danced the evening away instead of just watching from the side. I did not know it took so little to make her happy."

He poured glasses of wine for both of us and I accepted mine without response. What could I say? That I had gone against his wishes and allowed her to dance with Fitzwilliam? Truly, there had been no allowance on my part; they had simply done it, but I had not moved to halt its occurrence. Why should I? It was innocent fun in my opinion, no matter what Darcy thought, and yet I felt a twinge of conscience at deceiving him. He turned and looked at me and I wondered if he could read my guilt; instead, I was surprised by his remark.

"I was right about you," he said. "You are good for Georgiana."

We stood close to each other, looking deeply into the other's eyes. I could see gratitude in his look and yet, something more, a sort of ease about his countenance that I had not witnessed prior. I resolved not to tell him of Georgiana's dance, for I did not wish his good will or that look in his eyes to vanish or for anything to break our gaze.

He took my hand in his. "I failed to tell you how beautiful you are tonight, Elizabeth. Forgive me." His eyes traveled to my lips and to my eyes and then back again. I could not say a word. I could not even think. He stood so close. I felt mesmerized by his presence and yet intensely alive, conscious only of the intimacy of the moment. How long we remained thus, I know not, but at last he spoke again.

"Will you not content yourself with mourning ribbons from this day forward?"

I almost gasped, searching for breath with which to speak. "I shall," I said softly. "I shall."

He smiled and kissed my hand before releasing it. We retired for the night then, each to our separate rooms, and I was even more aware than usual that we lay sleeping with only a wall and an unlocked heart between us.

Did I say heart? I meant door. Truly, I did. Indeed, I meant door.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

1. Sento Nel Core by Allessandro Scarlatti (1659-1725)

2. Caro Mio Ben by Giordani (1750-1798)


Chapter Eight

Preparations for the dinner party we were hosting on the following Thursday night consumed much of the coming days. I spent considerable time with Cook in planning the menu; the housekeeper was given a list of every room that needed to be in pristine condition; I met with the gardener an entire morning, examining and choosing the plants that were still in bloom; and I ordered the best silver polished once again, as well as a re-washing of the china. Mr. Darcy's house was kept in perfect order, but still I persisted in ordering extra care and attention, as I found myself nervous and yet excited at the prospect of presiding over my first table. I truly desired Mr. Darcy's good opinion of me in this endeavor, a desire I found surprising and uncomfortable and very disquieting. I even went to him for approval of the seating plan I had worked out.

"Shall Lady Matlock take offense at having Mr. Gardiner seated so near? Shall I place my aunt and uncle in lower positions at the table?"

"Hmm," Mr. Darcy said, "I see nothing wrong with your plan, other than the fact that Miss Bingley sits next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Now that may cause offense on his part."

He said these words with a smile and I joined him with one of my own. I immediately moved Miss Bingley next to Mr. Gardiner and we both burst out laughing at the thought of her reaction to such a slight.

"No, no, Elizabeth, you must not inflict her on Mr. Gardiner. I think too highly of the man. Here, move her next to Mr. Hurst, for he is far too occupied with his plate and drink to be aware of who sits next to him."

We laughed again at the absurdity of it all and I felt an ease in his presence I had never experienced before. This newly found atmosphere persisted throughout the week and it spilled over into every occasion upon which we were together. I discovered that Mr. Darcy could be quite charming when he wished to be. We spent at least two evenings listening to Georgiana play and sing for us and on another night Mr. Darcy entertained us with readings from his latest acquisition, a copy of Coleridge's lectures on literature and philosophy. I was amazed that not a single word of dissension had passed between us since the night of Lord Matlock's ball. What had caused this transformation? Surely it could not be just the absence of my mourning clothes, could it? No, that would afford my appearance far too great a power; however, I was surprised to find that when I donned lighter colours, my entire mood lightened and I flattered myself that perchance my outlook influenced his as well, at least a little.

I followed through on my resolve not to reveal Georgiana's transgression at the ball to her brother, for I did not wish to cause any conflict between them or draw his wrath upon me for concealing it. I did confess to my sister-in-law, however, that I had seen her dancing with her cousin in the great hall at Eden Park.

Her eyes grew large with fear at my words. "And have you told Wills?" she asked.

I shook my head and could see the relief upon her countenance. "That does not mean that I condone your disobedience, Georgiana," I added.

"I suppose it was terribly wrong of me to go against Wills, but I so wanted to dance, and Colonel Fitzwilliam is my guardian, also. I cannot see that I behaved so badly if he approved."

"You are very close to the colonel, are you not?" I said.

"I adore him," she answered, her eyes aglow. "I always have. He is such a gentleman and the kindest of men. Next to Wills, I think I love him more than anyone else in the world."

"You are very fortunate."

"Yes, I am, but you are as well, Elizabeth."

"Oh? Do I enjoy Colonel Fitzwilliam's favour?"

"Of course you do, but you mistake my meaning. You are married to my brother and he is the very best of men. I am sure you could not find a better husband in this land."

"Ah, yes," I murmured and turned away, busying myself with rearranging a vase of already perfectly arranged flowers.

But Georgiana persisted. "Tell me, what is it like to be married? Is it so different from one's solitary state?"

I felt myself blushing and kept my face averted. "I fear that I do not understand your question."

"I mean . . . do you feel differently?"

"Feel differently?" I echoed.

"Yes, once you are married, do you feel more sure of yourself? Do you develop more confidence, or have you always possessed such nature?"

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes with relief that Georgiana was not asking me the personal question I had presumed. "Actually, my feelings are not that altered. I suppose I have been cursed with too much confidence all my life. At least, that is what my mother would tell you."

"Oh, no, I should never call it cursed, but rather blessed. I would give anything to be as self-assured as you are, never to fear others' judgment or censure, to know in myself that I am correct in whatever I do."

I turned then and walked to her side, seating myself on the couch next to her. "Oh, my dear, believe me, I am not that confidant. I, too, have fears and doubts about my abilities."

"But you never show them, Elizabeth. You always appear so in control."

"It is a very good act, Georgiana, one I have perfected. Consider this dinner party I am planning. I am quite concerned that I get it right, that I do not embarrass Mr. Darcy in any way."

"You could never do that, for he has the highest regard for you."

"Does he?" I looked into her eyes, searching for the assurance she felt.

"Oh, yes. Wills would never have married you if he did not."

I looked away then, reflecting on my sister-in-law's simple conclusion, her total ignorance of the facts. Had she known the true nature of our arrangement, she would not have spoken of his regard with such concreteness. She would have wondered about the truth of his feelings for me, but not nearly so much as I did.

On Wednesday, the day before the anticipated party, I did not see Mr. Darcy at all. Adams informed me that he had left the house before breakfast and would be at his solicitor's office for much of the day. I thought nothing of it, as Mr. Darcy did not discuss his business affairs with me, and I had a long list of duties awaiting my attention. Georgiana accompanied me on my morning calls; during the afternoon while I checked with the steward on the wines to be served, I heard her practicing the pianoforte, for she had agreed to play for our guests after dinner. The day was full and I did not notice Mr. Darcy's absence until the hour arrived for our evening meal and yet he still had not returned. That did surprise me for it was quite unusual. Georgiana and I eventually sat down to eat without him and passed the evening reading. We both looked up several times, anticipating his arrival, but when the clock sounded 10 bells, we retired to our chambers.

Fiona had just unpinned my hair and brushed through the curls when he knocked on the door adjoining our rooms. She opened the door and then vanished with the wave of his hand. I watched him come into the room, my surprise evident. He was still dressed in daytime garb, obviously just arrived, having shed only his coat and hat.

"Elizabeth," he said, as I stood in greeting, pulling my robe close around my figure. "Forgive me for intruding so late in the evening."

"Of course," I answered. "Will you not sit down?"

"No," he said, striding across the room and continuing to pace while he spoke. "I have a pressing task for you."

"What is it?"

"You must cancel the dinner party for tomorrow night. You will write to each of our invited guests this very evening and inform them of our regrets. Say that urgent business calls us back to Pemberley. Then see that Fiona packs your trunks so that you and Georgiana may leave by first light. I have already directed my sister's maid to prepare her things."

"But why?" I cried, "I do not understand."

"I have no time for explanations. Just do as I say and with all haste. Do you understand, Elizabeth? I demand that you carry out my orders with strict compliance."

I felt vexation rise in my throat. "And are you coming with us?"

"No," he said. Without further word or allowance of questions, Mr. Darcy strode from the room, firmly closing the door between us.

I was speechless! How dare he demand this of me, cancel all my carefully laid plans with a curt word of dismissal, and not deem me worthy of an explanation! Was I not of any more value in his eyes than a servant? With his evacuation of my bedchamber, all of the recent goodwill between us disappeared like a cup of water poured out on parched ground. I paced the floor in the exact pattern he had done so not five minutes before, my previous doubts and fears descending upon me with a vengeance. How could he treat me in such manner? He was as arrogant, as uncivil, as brash in his conduct as he had ever been.

How long I persisted in my anger, I knew not, but it was interrupted when Fiona returned, lightly tapping at the door opening into the hallway. When I granted her entrance, she quietly went about her duties, hauling out my trunks and emptying the drawers and armoires of my belongings. Obviously, Mr. Darcy had already informed her that we were leaving. My first inclination was to question her and ascertain whether she knew the reason for our banishment from London, but I thought better of it, not wanting a servant to know how angry I was nor how humiliated I felt by a man who professed to be my husband. I sat down and began to write the notes of regret to my aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Matlock, the Bingleys and Hursts, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. I confess that I had to discard the first two notes because tears of rage had soiled them. I balled them up and threw them into the fire. Digging my fists into my eyes, I willed myself to cease crying, for I did not want Fiona to witness my distress.

All my work had been for nothing, all my plans a needless exercise. What could be so important that our departure for Pemberley could not be delayed by at least one day? And why could not Mr. Darcy confide such reason in me? No, I was not his confidante. How could I ever have dreamed I might be? In truth, I was not his wife, but only a figurehead, playing a part, hostess when he desired it and banished non-person when it struck his fancy. His tender words the night of Lord Matlock's ball must have been nothing more than pretense, his affability this week a sham, for now he discarded me with a single command, not even affording me the courtesy of an explanation.

"Will there be anything more, Ma'am?" Fiona asked. I turned from my writing and saw the trunks lined up against the wall. "I have left your traveling clothes in the armoire, Ma'am, and your toiletries I will pack in the morning after you are dressed."

"Very well," I said. "That will be all for tonight, then."

She curtsied and left the room and not five minutes later I regretted having dismissed her. I should have sent the notes with her to be left downstairs for delivery first thing tomorrow. It was bad enough to cancel a dinner party, but on the very day it was to be held must be a grievous breach of manners. I finished up the last note and resolved to take them downstairs myself. Perhaps I would slip into the library while there and find some dull book to help lull me, for I knew in my present mood sleep would be difficult to come by.

It was after midnight, so I felt safe in leaving my room dressed in my gown and robe, for surely everyone had retired by now. At the bottom of the great staircase, I placed the notes on the silver salver where all outgoing messages were laid, and walked across the gallery toward the library. I was surprised to see a light coming from the room next to it, the room I knew to be Mr. Darcy's study. The door was open and I wondered if the servant had failed to extinguish the candles. I walked softly, my slippers barely making a sound. I peered around the entry, and there saw Mr. Darcy sitting with his elbows leaning on the desk, his head in his hands. He had discarded his coat and neckcloth and I could see both his waistcoat open and his shirt partially unbuttoned, his hair mussed as though he had been raking his hands through it over and over again. As I watched, he raised his head and leaned against the high back of the chair, closing his eyes and sighing. A deep frown knit his brows together and I was astonished at the amount of pain I saw canvassing his face.

I started to turn away and go about my first inclination of searching the library shelves for a book, but the haunting look on his countenance drew me into the room like a siren's song. I cleared my throat and he looked up immediately, surprise evident in his eyes.

"Pardon me, sir, but you look very ill. Shall I not call a servant to summon the doctor?"

"No, no," he said.

"Truly, sir, you are not well. May I get you something for your present distress? A glass of wine, perhaps?"

He shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal of such. "I am not ill, Elizabeth. Do not concern yourself."

I ventured closer and sat on the edge of a chair near the desk. "Will you tell me what is troubling you? May I not be of some assistance?"

"There is nothing you can do. Indeed, you must leave me, for there is nothing anyone can do tonight." He rose from the desk and walked around it to stand before me, but instead of assisting me to my feet, he chose to sit on the chair next to me. I could see the worry and concern in his eyes, the anguish so apparent on his countenance, and I sensed that he really did not wish me to go, in spite of his words to the contrary.

We sat quietly for a while, but at last I could not keep from speaking. "Mr. Darcy, will you confide in me? Can you not tell me what is causing you such discontent?"

"I would not burden you, Elizabeth."

I did something quite daring then. I reached out and took his hand in mine, holding it between my palms, and forcing him to look into my eyes. "I am your wife, sir. I know that we are not partners in the truest sense, but can we not attempt a beginning? Will you trust me enough to share whatever it is that disturbs you so?"

His eyes were deep pools of black, tortured with worry and yet lightening somewhat at my boldness. He made no reply at first, but just looked into my eyes for the longest time.

"It is Georgiana," he said at last. "She . . . I fear that she may be in danger and must be taken from London immediately."

"Danger? From whom?"

He rose then and took a letter from his desk and held it out to me. "This is a blackmail notice. From whom I do not know, but the author knows our family and knows it well. This blackguard threatens to tell Lady Catherine of Wickham's designs on Georgiana, how he almost succeeded in seducing her and eloping to Scotland. You heard my aunt's threats last week. This will surely give her fuel for court action to remove Georgiana from my guardianship. This will provide fodder for the idea that I am unfit and remiss in my duties toward my sister."

I hastily read the note and was shocked at its contents. How could anyone be so cruel, so hateful as to separate a brother and sister who were devoted to each other? And yes, I could well imagine Lady Catherine using such knowledge to have her way in this matter. She did not take defeat with grace and her venom would only be enflamed with such revelation.

"Do you not have the slightest suspicion as to who might have knowledge of this occurrence?"

"The only people who know are the parties involved, along with Colonel Fitzwilliam, you and I, and, of course, Mrs. Younge."

"Could she have written the note?"

"She could, but why? She knows nothing of Lady Catherine's desire to take Georgiana from me. How could she be privy to such intelligence?"

My heart went out to him. What a heavy burden he bore. How foolish I had been to let my anger erupt when he was so laden with worry. "What shall you do?" I asked.

"Remain here and search out the person or persons who have made this threat. As you can see from the note, I am to leave the funds they demand at the designated drop on Saturday."

"And shall you pay them, sir? I cannot fathom rewarding such scoundrels!"

"I have little choice right now. I met with my barrister most of the day, along with a trusted detective he recommends. We have arranged to have the meeting place watched and hope to discover the blackmailer. What I do not know is how to find the informant. I suspect it may be someone here in my own house, a suspicion I find most alarming."

"In your own house? But why?"

"Because of the anger and pitch of her voice, Lady Catherine's threats were heard throughout the house last week. I have not the slightest doubt that every servant in the place knows of the situation. I must find out who it is that would betray us."

He began to pace again. I watched him for some time, my own thoughts in a whirl. Who could it be? Mr. Darcy treated his servants well. How could any one of them turn against him in such a traitorous manner? And yet, throughout history the lure of silver has corrupted many a man or woman. My thoughts darted back and forth searching for any means of discovering a malcontent among the household, when all of a sudden the recollection struck me, the memory I had tried so hard to forget washed over me.

"Sir, I . . . I must tell you something."

"What is it?"

"Some weeks ago, I overheard two of the servants talking, gossiping actually, and one of them exhibited anger towards you. I do not want to accuse anyone unduly, but you might begin your investigation with him."

"Tell me exactly what you heard."

I blanched at repeating the ugly words spoken against him and turned my face away, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Elizabeth? It is vital that you tell what you remember."

I nodded and, taking a deep breath, I repeated the under-gardener's scurrilous remarks about Mr. Darcy and Fiona. He began to pace again, placing his hand at his mouth, knitting his brows into an even fiercer scowl than before. Finally, he stopped. "And do you know who the man was that said these things?"

I shook my head. "No, sir, for I did not see him. All I know is that the other servant called him Johnny."

"Johnny? We have more than one servant by that name. What about the stable hand who supposedly told Johnny in the first place? Did you learn his name?"

"No," I said, saddened to see how disappointed he was. I watched him retrace his steps back and forth until I wondered if the carpet would be permanently indented from his desperate walk. I finally rose and, placing my hand on Mr. Darcy's arm, I stopped him. "What else can I do to assist you, sir? Is there not any way that I might help?"

"You can help me by doing as I ask, Elizabeth. Take Georgiana to Pemberley where she will be safe. I have asked Fitzwilliam to accompany you and I have not the slightest doubt that he will protect her on the journey. I trust my staff in the country implicitly, for they have been in my service for years. I shall feel much relief to have my sister tucked away in Derbyshire, rather than here in town. And pray, do not tell her of this threat. I do not want her frightened."

"But what reason have you given her for this sudden trip?"

"I told her I had changed my mind and wanted the both of you out of the city, what with winter coming on and disease rampant during the cold weather, which is not an untruth."

"And she accepted this with no further explanation?"

"My sister is accustomed to obeying me." He smiled slightly. "You could learn from her example, and if you will do so in this regard, I shall rest easier."

I blushed, wondering if he had read my mind earlier. Did he know how angry I had become when ordered about? "I confess obedience does not come easy to me, sir, especially when I am given orders without a reason." We stared at each other and by the turn of his countenance, it appeared that he understood my application, and so I did not allow my earlier disappointment further reign.

"In this matter, however," I said softly, "I shall do as you say. I only regret that I cannot do more, for I do not like to see your eyes so filled with anguish."

He closed his eyes and turned away, but then returned his gaze to me and when he spoke, his voice was tender and low. "Your compassion does you credit. I am not in the habit of being so cared for. I find I quite like it."

We stood very close to each other and I suddenly remembered that I was in a state of undress when I saw his eyes roam over my figure. He took my hand and my skin burned at the warmth of his touch. This time he was the one to enclose my hand within both of his and I found that I liked the way his large hands completely covered mine, making it feel small and protected. With his thumb, he began to rub circles around and around my palm and I suddenly found my breathing growing somewhat constricted.

"Elizabeth," he said very softly, almost in a husky whisper.

"Yes," I murmured, never taking my eyes from his.

"You should go to bed. It is late."

"Yes, I suppose I should."

"You must arise very early."

"Yes," I said, neither of us moving to act upon our words, "very early."

His gaze traveled from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes, as they had done the night of the ball, and I felt a longing well up deep within me with a force I had never felt before, a quickening within the pit of my stomach that only added fuel to that yearning. I wanted him to kiss me - oh, how I wanted him to kiss me - and I wondered if that was a similar desire I saw reflected in his dark eyes.

"Leave me," he pleaded, his voice utterly ragged, but he still neither moved nor released my hand.

"Yes," I whispered and then without thought, I reached up with my free hand and touched his face, feeling its flushed heat, and drawing my fingers along his jaw. And then I kissed his cheek. It was the most natural impulse I had ever had. When I drew back, he searched my eyes, his breath coming short and hard. And then he closed his lips upon mine, slowly, softly searching his way until my lips parted and I tasted heaven for the first time in my life.

I felt the room whirl around me, my whole body begin to tremble as I clung to his hands. At last he gently released my lips. Neither of us moved, our eyes gazing at each other, both of us too filled with emotion to move or speak. I could not even think, for my senses flooded my entire being. He still held my hand, I knew that much for I could still feel the pressure of his thumb tracing circles in that same maddening, probing pattern, and finally he looked down at it.

"Such a little hand," he whispered, and placing it next to his lips, he kissed it tenderly, while once again gazing into my eyes. "Go," he said softly, and released me.

I nodded and turned woodenly, somehow finding my way to the door and up the stairs to my chamber.

If I said that I slept much that night, I would be lying, for my thoughts, my feelings, my senses, every nerve in my body was so intensely alive that I could find ease in neither bed nor pillow. I could not fathom all that had happened this very evening. My emotions had run the gamut from fierce anger to . . . to what? Was this feeling of unbearable excitement and joy actually love for Mr. Darcy? I did not know, I truly did not know. I just knew that the last thing I wanted was to be sent to Pemberley, to be out of his sight, unable to see his face, hear his voice, and give him comfort. Was that love?

And what about Georgiana? Who could wish to cause her such harm? Who would want to cause Darcy such distress? Over and over again I went over the blackmail note in my mind, searching for any clue that might stand out, that might enable me to assist my husband in solving this terrifying riddle. My husband - I had actually come to think of him as my husband for the very first time.

And then those delicious memories of his kiss flooded my body once again and I found myself reliving the sensation, pondering how and why it had happened, and wondering when and if it ever would again. It was a very long night.

Fiona awakened me before dawn by lighting a candle and laying the fire. I shivered in the cold morning as I washed my face with the water she poured into the china basin. She helped me dress and as I sat down to do up my buttons, she began to brush my hair and pin it up with the expertise she possessed. Another knock at the door caused me to turn in expectation, hoping against hope that it was Mr. Darcy, but I was disappointed to see it was only another servant bearing a tray containing my breakfast. She said the master had ordered a light meal for Georgiana and me to be served in our rooms. I looked at her closely, wondering if this girl from the kitchen perhaps might be the spy in our employ, the one who had assisted Darcy's blackmailer with news of Lady Catherine's threats. But she was a simple girl, dull of manner and wit, and one I would never suspect clever enough to do such a thing. I felt ashamed of my suspicions and spoke kindly to her, thanking her for the meal.

After eating and gathering a few books Fiona had failed to pack the night before, I was ready to don my coat and bonnet.

"Here you go, Ma'am," she said, holding out my coat for me. "The master bid me have you ready to go by 6:00 o'clock and it be nigh onto it."

"Yes, Fiona, call the footman and have him gather my bags. Then you must hurry and get your things together so that you and your child will not miss the deadline, either. I am sure the servants' coach will travel right behind that of Miss Georgiana and myself."

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" the maid said, looking at me as though I was speaking French.

"Your bags, Fiona, yours and Willie's. You cannot travel to Derbyshire without your things. Come, hurry! Do not wait for me. I can manage from here."

"But Ma'am, I am not going to Derbyshire with you."

I stopped tying the ribbons of my bonnet and turned to look at her. "What? Are you not moving to Pemberley as my maid?"

"Eventually, Ma'am, when it is the master's wish. But for now, he bid me stay here in London until he is ready to leave the city. I will travel when the master does."

The footman knocked at the door and she turned her attention to assist him in carrying my trunks below stairs. As they left the room, I found myself sinking onto the bed. What possible reason could Mr. Darcy have to keep Fiona here with him? She was my maid, after all. And then the old fears crowded into my mind. I could see Willie's dark eyes and hair, the soft look about Darcy's expression when he played with him in the garden, and his refusal to reveal to me the identity of the child's father. I suddenly recalled that when I had repeated the servant's hateful gossip last night, it had angered Mr. Darcy, but he had never denied it.

I felt sick to my stomach and it was all that I could do not to lose the breakfast I had just eaten. What kind of man had I married and what sort of game was he playing with me? Sending me off with the memory of his tender kiss and yet keeping his mistress and child here with him?

I walked down the stairs with a heart as heavy as the trunks carried before me. Just outside the entry I saw Colonel Fitzwilliam mounted on his horse, ready to ride escort and Darcy assisting Georgiana into the carriage. I steeled myself not to show any emotion, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had hurt me.

"Elizabeth," he said, holding out his hand to help me into the carriage.

I refused to look at him and ignored his outstretched hand. Instead, I reached for the side of the coach and climbed the steps without assistance. "Good morning, Georgiana," I said, seating myself on the far side of the carriage and turning my face to the opposite window.

"Good-bye, Wills," Georgiana cried. "Come soon."

"Yes . . . yes, I will come as soon as possible," he said. I could hear the confusion in his voice, but I did nothing to alleviate it. I gave him no greeting; I took no leave of him; I refused to even glance his way as I heard him say to the driver, "Walk on," his voice possibly cracking somewhat. I felt little sympathy for him, for I could feel my own heart breaking, shattering into a million tiny pieces.