Betrayal

Part I
PROLOGUE London, November 1811 A smile graced the face of Fitzwilliam Darcy as he sat in his darkened study staring into the fire, his eyes reflecting the leaping flames. His smile grew wider, and his eyes softer, as the image of a woman invaded his mind. A wave of heat permeated his body as her sparkling brown eyes danced with merriment, her teasing smile crystallized into focus. "Elizabeth," he whispered fervently. "You are my salvation." He sighed and then gently closed his eyes. "Two more days, my love, until I can hold you again." Suddenly, his

eyes peered through tiny slits as he furrowed his brow. He remembered the aggressiveness his uncle had used to push for a match with Miss Isabelle Weatherby, and his unending quotes of "duty." Darcy exclaimed out loud, "Damn duty!" as if trying to exorcise the bitter memories associated with that period of time in his past. "Damn with sacrificing myself." A knock on his door caused the image of the twinkling chocolate brown eyes to vanish from his mind. "Enter." His butler, Mr. Cuthbert, entered, and stood silently while switching from one foot to the other. "Yes, what is it?" "Mr. Darcy, Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam is at the door, demanding to be allowed inside so that he may speak with you." A frown raced across Darcy's face, and his eyes became dark pits of anger. His jaws clinched, he said in a tight voice, "Will the

man never give up? I told you not to open the door for him." "I did not, sir. He called through the door. I am afraid he will attract unwanted attention." Did you remind him he is not allowed in my home, and that I have refused to speak with him?" "Yes, sir, but he said he will sit outside until you grant him permission to enter. He seems to be in an ugly mood, sir." Clenching his fists, Darcy spat out, "Then let him sit there until he freezes to death." "Yes, sir. Very good, sir." Mr. Cuthbert bowed and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Pacing up and down the room, Darcy's hands trembled and his heart pounded in agitation, as once again painful memories of the past forced their way into his thoughts. Damn you, Richard, stay away.

He inhaled deeply several times, poured a small glass of brandy and gulped it in one swallow. He felt the warm liquid tumbling down his throat into his stomach, and soon his hands stopped trembling and his heart calmed to a steady rhythm. He poured another glass, but this time he sipped it while he sat back and closed his eyes, reliving the hurt Richard had brought him. CHAPTER ONE London, 1809 Lord Matlock had joined Darcy in the latter's study for the seventh straight night. He had spent many hours discussing his nephew's future, despite the irrepressible truth that Darcy was a grown man. As head of the Fitzwilliam family, however, he did not feel it was outside of his authority to counsel the young man. Wesley Fitzwilliam handed Darcy a brandy. Taking up where he had left off the night before, he said, "Damn it, Nephew, I insist you must marry and soon."

Darcy rolled his eyes and sighed. "And, Uncle, I suppose it is still the same lady you have in mind?" He had heard the same speech relentlessly for a week. "Yes, Sir Malcolm Weatherby's daughter, Isabelle, is the perfect wife for you." "How is she different from any of the others?" Darcy's smile of amusement belied his irritation with his uncle. Lord Matlock cleared his throat and coughed. "She is different in many ways." His nephew was silent for so long that his uncle looked at him and frowned. Finally, Darcy asked. "Pray, Uncle, list those differences." "She is beautiful, Darcy!" "Many women are, but outward beauty fades. There must be an inner beauty for love to be constant and make a lady of worth."

"She is a leader in the Ton." Taking a sip of his brandy, Darcy frowned and then shrugged. "I have no desire to be put in such a position. You know I attend very few social events. That does not persuade me." "She is wealthy. Why, she has a 50,000 pound dowry!" "I am wealthy. I lack for nothing," Darcy smirked. "Have we not had this same conversation many times?" Lord Matlock leaned forward, his palms on the desk. "But think of the improvements you can make; the investments!" Darcy's voice began rising. "I can make improvements, or investments, on my own. I do not need a worthless wife with a large dowry!" His uncle slammed his drink down, his voice rising louder, "You are being stubborn and foolish! I insist upon this marriage!"

Darcy's eyes were intense as he stared at his uncle, trying to uncover the real reason for these demands. He suddenly became calm, with his voice controlled and like a knife, he ignored his uncle's demands. "Why are you pushing me? Why now? I am still young." His eyes narrowed. "There is more to this than you are telling. Why her?" Sounding urgent Lord Matlock said, "I tell you, boy, you would never regret it. She brings many desirable assets into the marriage. Few can offer you as much. You need an heir and a woman to lead Georgiana into society. You can do neither by yourself." Darcy stepped over to the window and stared out into the black night. Sighing and running his hands through his hair, he took a deep breath before answering. "Uncle, I do not love Miss Weatherby, and I do not wish to marry her. We would be miserable together. She stands for everything I despise about the women in the ton. I would not trust Georgiana to her care."

Wesley Fitzwilliam's eyes had gone cold as he continued to badger Darcy. "Love? Bah, Nephew! Love has nothing to do with marriage. We do not marry for love, only for wealth and connections. You will have to come up with a better excuse than that. I am losing my patience with you!" He started to walk away and then suddenly whirled back around, speaking in harsh, choppy words. "I will not have you defy me!" Darcy was exhausted and he was tired of his uncle's demands. I will stop resisting and pretend to capitulate, but I will not agree to a courtship or an engagement. "Very well, Uncle," he sighed, "I will call on Miss Weatherby, but only with the understanding that I may never court her, or marry her. I know little about the lady, but I am willing to make the effort to get acquainted." He slumped down in his chair, and ran his hands over his face. Pounding his fist on the table, Lord Matlock glared at his nephew before shouting, "Boy, you cannot call on her and decide later you

will not marry her; it would not be honorable, and her father will never agree to those terms." Darcy's eyebrow arched, and with a smirk he answered, "Then there is no cause for our continuing this conversation. Those are my terms, you and Sir Malcolm may take or leave them; at this point it matters not to me. As for not marrying her after I have only called on her, there is nothing dishonorable in that. There will be no contract, no understanding of my intentions." Lord Matlock moved to stand behind Darcy. He placed his hand upon his shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. In a softer tone he said, "You are too stubborn at times, just like your mother! I do not wish to continue this argument and neither do you. I am sorry I shouted. But you know, son, Miss Weatherby is an only child and Sir Malcolm's estate is not entailed away. When her father passes, she will inherit everything, including their large estate in Yorkshire. If you marry her, the estate would be yours to do as you please. Sir Malcolm assures me it

will be part of her dowry. Think on that!" Darcy frowned and made a motion of waving away his uncle's words, as though they were unwanted flies interrupting his peace. "I have told you what I will do; no more and no less. I, too, am tired of speaking on this matter. It is her father's decision whether he accepts my terms or not." In a tight voice his uncle said, "Very well, I will speak with Sir Malcolm, and call on you tomorrow." He jammed his hat on his head, and marched out of the house. **~~** Although Darcy knew he had greatly displeased his uncle, he did not know that Lord Matlock was barely in control of his anger. Nor could he know his uncle's thoughts as his carriage pulled away. I will not allow him to ruin my plans. I will force him to marry her if it is the last thing I do. Knowing full well what he was trying to force his nephew into, a small feeling of

guilt tried to weave its way into his mind. He knew if Darcy married Miss Weatherby, he would live a life of unhappiness, but he pushed away any negative thoughts. Better that Darcy was unhappy than he, Lord Matlock, be ruined. His nephew could always take a mistress for his needs. Losing the Matlock estate was a more serious matter, and the solution must take precedence over Darcy's happiness. **~~** As Darcy lay in bed that night, his heart was heavy and sleep was long in coming. He remembered his parents' wishes that he marry for love, as they had. If he married someone like Miss Weatherby he would be going against their wishes, but in his twentyfive years, he had not met a woman who could touch his heart. Good God, he thought, marrying without love merely for a financial connection is exactly the same as what ...whores do. And sex without love is empty.

He remembered the morning he turned eighteen: Mr. Darcy had taken his son to a private brothel in London that catered only to gentlemen. It was known as Madame Vee's, and Darcy stayed the rest of that day and all of that night. Madame Vee took one look at the tall, handsome young man, and decided she would be the one to show him how to please a woman. "My, you are a handsome one! It will be my pleasure to be your teacher." Turning to look at Darcy's father, she smiled. "Do not concern yourself, Papa. Your son will be in good hands, and will learn much. Come back for him tomorrow morning." The elder Mr. Darcy left the premises, remembering his first time. His father had taken him to a brothel to learn how to pleasure a woman at the same age Fitzwilliam was. He had gone back many times until he married his wife. God, if my Anne was still alive she would not have allowed this, but the boy needs experience and this is the best I can do. I will speak with him on our way home to Pemberley.

Darcy greatly enjoyed his time with Madame Vee. Being young and full of energy, he wished he could have stayed longer, but the next morning his father came for him. On the first day of their journey back to Pemberley, George Darcy did not try to engage his son in conversation. Darcy spent most of that day smiling and staring out the carriage window. His father understood that the view outside was not what registered on Fitzwilliam's mind, and that his smiles were in reaction to everything he had experienced with Madame Vee. On the second day, however, Mr. Darcy spoke: "Fitzwilliam, I took you to Madame Vee's for a reason. You are quiet, but I see great passion in you, and you must learn how to channel it to avoid trouble. While you are unmarried, you must avoid compromising situations with ladies, and you must never bed a servant. If you feel the need for a woman, go back to Madame Vee's. The women are clean, and you will have no worries of producing a bastard.

However, when you are married, you must keep yourself for your wife only. No brothels and no mistresses!" George Darcy kept his son busy at Pemberley over the next year, but when Darcy turned nineteen, he eagerly visited Madame Vee again. To his surprise, it was not as satisfying as he had remembered. At twenty, he again visited her, but he never went back after that. Both visits left him feeling depressed and empty, and he realized that he wanted to love and marry a woman who cared for him, as he would for her. He pleasured himself instead; it was quick and easy, and uncomplicated. Pulling a pillow tightly against his body, Darcy shuddered as he realized that he had seemed to give in to his uncle by agreeing to call on Miss Weatherby, a woman he did not love. If I married her it is doubtful we would grow to love one another. The most I could hope for is respect and a mutual desire for children. I do not respect Miss Weatherby, and doubt that will change.

Feeling as though he was failing his parents, Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed, turned over in his empty bed, and fell into an uneasy sleep. The following day Lord Matlock informed his nephew that Sir Malcolm had accepted his terms. Darcy would call on Miss Weatherby, and there would be no commitment from him for three months. At the end of that time, he would have to make a decision and declare himself, one way or the other. **~~** It was time for Darcy's annual visit to Rosings, but the afternoon before his departure found him leaning against the mantle, an angry scowl marring his face. He waved a letter at Lord Matlock. "Uncle, this is most improper! My God, Miss Weatherby and I have not known each other a month and I have called on her only twice. You are proceeding too fast for me, and now you have involved Lady Catherine. She refers to Miss Weatherby as my fiance!"

Lord Matlock took the letter from Darcy's hand, folded it up and returned it to his pocket. "I had to tell her you were engaged so she would agree to receive Miss Weatherby. Your aunt loves you with a mother's heart, and she wishes you to be settled." "She is my aunt. I am my own man!" Darcy poked at the fire angrily until a spark jumped at him. Lord Matlock sighed. He poured a double brandy for both of them. "Accept it, boy! Ever since Anne died ten years ago, your aunt adopted you in her mind. Do not tell me you are unaware of this change!" "Of course, I am aware! But she is not my mother, regardless of what she feels. I do not approve of you lying to her by saying Miss Weatherby is my fiance." Darcy gulped a large drink of brandy, and inhaled quickly as the burning liquid flowed down his throat. "She is willing to welcome Miss Weatherby into the family. Let her have this

opportunity." Matlock chuckled, "She can be quite difficult when denied something she wants, and she wants to meet the next Mrs. Darcy." "She is not my fiance! Remember the deal we made. I doubt she will ever be Mrs. Darcy, especially if my elders continue to interfere." "Well, you will be alone with her for the four hours it takes to travel to Rosings. No one else will be in the carriage with you." Darcy gasped, "What? Are you telling me that she is to ride in my carriage without even her companion? Do you and her father care nothing for her reputation?" He narrowed his eyes. "I am beginning to understand; you wish her to be compromised to force me into this marriage!" His uncle laughed nervously. "Do not be ridiculous!" "This trip can be cancelled, Uncle. I will not travel with her alone," Darcy warned.

Sweat covered Lord Matlock's forehead as he waved away Darcy's warning. "Calm down, Nephew, this is an excellent way for you and Miss Weatherby to become better acquainted." "I repeat, I will not travel with her unless she includes her companion." Darcy's eyes were cold, and his jaws were set tight. "Oh, very well, I will see that her companion joins you. Now, think of the time you can spend with her at Rosings." Darcy snorted. "Uncle, you know very well I will have little time to spend with Miss Weatherby. Lady Catherine always has more for me to do than I can accomplish." "Nonsense," Lord Matlock insisted, dismissing his complaints. "Catherine will understand. Now you run along to Rosings, and have a pleasant time with your intended." Darcy shot his uncle a harsh look, but Lord

Matlock raised his palm towards his nephew. "I expect to hear that you are engaged when you return to London." "Well, at least Richard will be there," Darcy mumbled as he glared at his uncle. "Richard will not accompany you this year. He has other matters to attend." His eyebrows raised in surprise, Darcy leaned forward. "What is so important that Richard cannot travel with us? This will be the first year he has missed going to Rosings." Lord Matlock grunted as he ignored Darcy's question. "Do not concern yourself with Richard," he said gruffly. "He has military duties and cannot be spared." In the end, Lord Matlock partially won; Miss Weatherby and her companion would travel to Rosings in Darcy's carriage. **~~**

That night, Darcy was in his study finalizing his estate business when he heard his cousin's voice at the door. He stood as Richard walked heavily into the room. "Richard, I am surprised to see you here after your father said..." Richard scowled and walked over to the brandy, pouring himself a drink. He gulped it down and turned to Darcy. "May I pour you one?" Darcy pointed to his full glass. "What are you doing here? Not that I am not glad to see you. It is just that your father said..." "Damn my father! I am going to Rosings with you." He looked sternly at his cousin. "I would appreciate you not mentioning this to the great "Of course, as you wish. But you know Lady Catherine will tell him. You cannot keep this a secret." Richard sat down in his usual chair, and

Darcy resumed his seat behind his desk. "What is wrong, Richard? Have you and your father quarreled?" Richard snorted. "You do not wish to know. Let me say only that I am tired of being treated as a child. He thinks he can order me around, bend me to his will." "You are not the only one, Cousin. He badgered me for seven days about marrying Miss Weatherby." "I understand you caved in to his wishes," Richard smirked. "No, I did not." He told of his compromise with his uncle. "I agreed to call on her for three months, but I did not promise to marry her." There was silence until Darcy said, "I have missed you, Richard. I especially miss our talks." Richard looked away. "Army life keeps me busy. I imagine my time is short before I am

called to duty on the continent." "I hope it is not so. Do you know how long?" Richard shrugged. "Who knows?" He finished his drink and poured another, drinking it quickly. Darcy noticed that his cousin diverted his eyes as he poured yet another drink. Richard sipped this one while Darcy sat and studied him. Something was terribly wrong. They had grown up together, more as brothers than cousins, yet he could feel Richard pulling away from him. Their conversations had become strangely stilted, and Richard seldom visited. He was tempted to ask once again if there was a problem between them, but it was late and he felt sure Richard would not answer. He was startled when his cousin suddenly spoke, "How is Georgiana?" Darcy relaxed, happy that Richard as coguardian of Darcy's thirteen year old sister, Georgiana, still cared about the girl who

loved him as a brother. He smiled. "She is well. She likes Mrs. Annesley and I have been pleased with her influence. I am glad we did not hire Mrs. Younge, for I have since discovered a link between her and George Wickham. I would not be surprised if Wickham put her up to applying for the position." Richard drummed his fingers on a table and looked around the room as Darcy spoke. He felt a flash of irritation at his cousin, Why did Richard ask about Georgiana if the subject bores him? But he continued, "I have not seen Wickham since the night he attempted to kidnap Georgiana. I believed him to be afraid of me after what I did to him, but with the connection to Mrs. Younge I do not know. At least Georgiana no longer has nightmares. What are your thoughts, Richard?" Richard took another sip of brandy and shrugged again. Curling his lips into a sneer he said, "Nothing that scum does surprises me. By the way, I had my trunk sent to my

usual room. What time do we leave?" "At dawn. Miss Weatherby and her companion travel with us." Richard spoke in a sarcastic voice. "That should be cozy!" He held up his drink. "To a safe and enjoyable trip!" Darcy grimaced. "I do not look for it to be enjoyable." Raising his eyebrows, Richard asked, "Why?" "I have a long list of duties from Lady Catherine, and I will be too busy to entertain Miss Weatherby. I am still displeased that she was invited." "Only you could be unhappy about traveling with a beautiful and wealthy fiance." Richard's words continued to be sarcastic, and Darcy looked sharply at him. "Why do you insist on calling her my fiance when you know she is not? What is wrong

with you, Richard? Why such sarcasm? You have not been yourself for some time, and I am puzzled at your behavior." His face like a mask, Richard looked away and then shrugged, "You may be Master of Pemberley and Lord of Derbyshire, and think you can deny she is your fiance. But you know as well as I do that she will be whatever my father says. You have no say in the matter; therefore, she is your fiance." Growing angry at his cousin, Darcy slammed his fist down on his desk. "Damn it, Richard! She is not my fiance, and I doubt she ever will be. I tell you, I will not be bullied into making a commitment; yet by her being included a commitment will be assumed by outsiders, especially since we travel together." Richard's voice was harsh. "I do not understand you Darcy. Miss Weatherby is beautiful, but most importantly she is wealthy. You would not see me turning that down. And while you are there you can spend hours each day with her. A woman

with her money and beauty would be worth any man spending time with." Darcy frowned, and he spoke with impatience. "I have just finished telling you that I will be occupied, and will have little time for Miss Weatherby. She will soon grow bored with Lady Catherine." Forcing his voice to sound calm, he suggested, "Perhaps you could entertain her, Richard. She might enjoy walking through Rosings Park, or you could take her riding around the country side." Richard snorted. "I doubt she would wish to be with me. Her companion would be better company." "Nonsense! You are an easy man to be with, and I believe she would be pleased with your company." Darcy grimaced, "She certainly will have little of mine." Richard stood and tossed back the rest of his brandy. "If you insist, I shall do my best, but do not expect much from me. Goodnight."

He turned to leave the room, but he did not turn quickly enough to conceal the smile that stretched across his face. Darcy saw it and was puzzled.
Lord Matlock," he spat.

**~~** Little was said during the journey to Kent. Uncharacteristically, Richard who usually kept up a running dialog, kept to himself in the carriage. Darcy was uncomfortable with Miss Weatherby in such close proximity. With his natural shyness, he hardly knew what to say to her. He pulled a book on the history of agriculture from his satchel. Richard glanced at Miss Weatherby who raised her eyebrows at Darcy's attention being directed at a book when she was in the carriage. Feeling their eyes upon him he soon closed his book, and to his credit he attempted to converse with her. "Miss Weatherby, do you enjoy the opera?" She laughed, "No, sir, I can barely abide all

that screeching. I attend only to be seen, and to see others. It is an excellent way to meet one's friends, do you not agree?" Richard spoke when Darcy did not answer. "I agree, Miss Weatherby. I cannot tolerate the arias. Mostly I find the opera too boring. As you say, the only point of going is the society of others." Darcy grimaced at this and tried another subject. "What of books? I have a large library in both my homes, and would be happy to loan you any you care to read." Miss Weatherby gave a short laugh, and grimaced. "I seldom read, and then only if it is a novel of romance. I find myself becoming bored very easily with dry and useless information." She pointed her head toward the book in Darcy's hand. Richard smirked as he nodded in silent agreement. And I find myself very bored with you, madam, Darcy thought, but aloud he asked only, "What activities interest you, Miss Weatherby?"

"Oh, let me think." She tilted her head to the side as if pondering his question. "I enjoy riding my horse in Mayfield where everyone goes. It is great fun to ride with my friends. I love parties and balls, and dancing, of course. I also practice the pianoforte, and I love to sing. My favorite activity, however, is shopping." Darcy groaned to himself and wanted to roll his eyes, but said instead, "My sister, Georgiana, enjoys playing the pianoforte. Perhaps you and she could play together sometimes." "Hmm, perhaps. I usually do not enjoy playing with others. I perform better alone." "No doubt so you can garner all the attention, Darcy thought. Finally tiring of her, he gave up and opened his book again, but with the swaying of the carriage he soon closed his eyes and slept. Asleep, Darcy was unaware of the glances

Richard and Miss Weatherby exchanged. She laughed softly when he looked at Darcy and rolled his eyes. When her companion nodded off, Richard glanced at his cousin, and then leaned forward so the two could touch fingers. They shared a smile and a wink. CHAPTER TWO Mild Angst - nothing you can't handle. Darcy requested a meeting with his aunt as soon as they arrived. She agreed to speak with him in her small, private, sitting room before dinner. When she entered, he was already there, pacing up and down in front of the fire. "Fitzwilliam, what is troubling you?" He ran his hands through his hair, and then sat facing Lady Catherine. "Aunt, I fear that my uncle has deceived you regarding the relationship between Miss Weatherby and me."

She frowned and leaned forward. "How has he deceived me?" "By telling you that we are engaged." With an eyebrow raised, and in a calm voice, she asked, "You are not?" "No! We are not! Lord Matlock has been badgering me to marry her. He will not leave me alone, even though I have told him I do not wish for a marriage with her. He is putting too much pressure on me, and I have become suspicious that all is not as he claims." Lady Catherine watched as her nephew stood and began pacing again. "Why do you not wish to marry her? She seems acceptable." Darcy's pacing increased and his frown became deeper. "Aunt, why is he demanding I marry this particular woman? Why her and why now? I am young and do not wish to take on the responsibilities of a wife. I have spent the years since my father died doing

little but working at Pemberley, and taking care of Georgiana. If I cared for Miss Weatherby perhaps I would feel different, but I do not even like her. She is shallow and cares for nothing but going to parties and balls, and oh yes, going shopping." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "We must not forget shopping, as that brings her the greatest pleasure!" "Do you have nothing in common?" "Nothing! She does not care for reading, unless it is a romance, and she only goes to the opera or the theater to be seen. She is everything I detest in a woman. She would not be a good mistress for Pemberley, nor would she be happy there as she prefers being in Town. She cares only for herself! I shudder to think how shallow Georgiana would become if left under Miss Weatherby's care." Lady Catherine continued to watch her nephew, her face an unreadable mask. "And why has he lied to you about my being

engaged to her? He is trying to force me into marriage. Why? I tell you, Aunt, there is more to this than my uncle is saying. I am suspicious of him and Sir Malcolm." "I agree with you; there does seem to be an ulterior motive behind my brother's demands." Lady Catherine looked thoughtful. "You know, there were whispers of a scandal concerning the Weatherby family many years ago, but I cannot remember what it was. No matter, it will come to me if I think on it long enough. And I still have people I can go to for information." Darcy looked uncomfortable as he wondered whether to reveal gossip he had heard about Lord Matlock. Finally he said, "I have heard that my uncle is in some sort of trouble, but I cannot determine what it is. Have you heard anything?" Lady Catherine looked startled. "No, I have heard nothing! Perhaps it is time for me to make an appearance in Town. We need to know what is going on. In the meantime,

until I am able to gather information, do nothing. And for heaven's sake, avoid any compromising situations." Darcy snorted. "Do not worry, Aunt. I intend to be very careful!" **~~** That night, as Darcy sat alone in the library staring into the fire, Lady Catherine lay in bed thinking of the marriage she had once planned between her daughter and her nephew. She had not considered their wishes; she had thought only of the union of two great estates, Rosings and Pemberley. After Anne's death, she had put aside those dreams and showered all her love on Darcy. Anne was now a distant memory, but her nephew had become her son in her mind and heart. She would let no one, not even her brother, harm a hair on his head. It was true that she had softened, especially toward her nephew, but underneath the surface Lady Catherine could still be

ruthless. Troubled, she asked herself, Why is Wesley so adamant that Fitzwilliam marry Miss Weatherby? What does he gain by that marriage? What sort of trouble has he brought on himself? What is he hiding? She was determined to discover the answers. Her informants were many, and she paid them well to insure their loyalty. She would know it all, and then she would act. **~~** The first week at Rosings passed slowly for Darcy. His days were busy and long as he carried out his aunt's wishes. He had hoped that Richard would offer his help, but his cousin was aloof and distant, disappearing immediately after breakfast. In the past, they had spent time together in the library after everyone retired, drinking brandy and sharing confidences. But on this visit his cousin retired with the others, leaving Darcy alone to brood over Richard's unusual behavior. He hoped to find a private moment with him before leaving Rosings.

This problem with his cousin had gone on long enough. In the meantime, he saw Miss Weatherby only at dinner, and for a short time afterwards in the drawing room, where they had no privacy in which to converse. She seemed content with their situation, but he was not. It is just as I feared; this is not working out. I believe Miss Weatherby is as bored with me as I am with her. He knew he would not make his uncle happy when he returned to London. By the end of the first week, however, Darcy began feeling guilty about leaving Miss Weatherby alone so much. He decided to stop work at noon on Friday to spend the afternoon with her. While he bathed and changed clothes he asked Foster, his valet, if he had seen Miss Weatherby that morning. "Yes sir, I saw her walking toward the

stream about an hour ago with Colonel Fitzwilliam. She was carrying a book." Darcy looked up in surprise. "I wonder what she was doing with a book. She said she cares little for reading, and my aunt has no novels in her library. Did you say she was with Richard?" "Yes, sir." "Well, I will follow them. I am glad Richard is with her; you know how he loves to talk." Foster paused, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "Indeed, sir." Darcy regarded his man, unsure what he was to make of the incredulity in his remark. He did not wish to take the time to question him, however, so he put it out of his mind for the time being. As Darcy set out for the stream, he noted an abundance of moss covering a large area of the ground, and he thought how pleasant it felt to walk on. He was amused by the way his feet bounced up and down as he walked.

He heard the laughter of Miss Weatherby and Richard and he smiled, pleased that his cousin was entertaining her. As he approached, however, he heard moans. Puzzled, he stopped, and then realized he was closer than he thought; he could see them, although they had not seen or heard him. He was shocked at the sight of his cousin and Miss Weatherby. They were laying on the ground partially unclothed and kissing passionately, Richard's hands caressing her body. His leg was draped over her's, and for a brief second he thought Richard was violating her against her will, but he quickly realized she was clinging to him, encouraging him. He knew that he should either make his presence known or slip back to the house unseen, but his feet were held in place by a combination of anger and disgust. When Richard rolled completely on top of Miss Weatherby and penetrated her, Darcy feared his legs would not hold him, so he leaned against a large boulder in front of him. As their love making became more and

more forceful, he felt his face burning all the way down to his chest. After they had achieved satisfaction, the two straightened their clothing and Isabelle lay with her head on Richard's chest. The couple was still unaware that Darcy could see and hear them. Richard began laughing, "Darce doesn't suspect a thing. If he only knew how long we have been meeting, he would be furious! The bloody idiot is bent on being his usual dull and anti-social self; he is so aloof from everyone that he does not notice what is happening under his very nose." Isabelle giggled. "Does he never have fun? At balls he walks around with a scowl on his face speaking to no one, and he seldom dances. The only reason women throw themselves at him is because of his wealth and that fine estate of his. Well, they can have him, the fools, I much prefer you, dearest." Richard smiled at her statement, but then he

grimaced and wrinkled his forehead. "Since his father died he has developed such a superior attitude. I grew weary of him long ago. Now I barely tolerate him." He laughed. "I visit him only when I want a good meal, or to drink his fine brandy. He is supposed to be an intelligent man, but I have fooled him for years." Darcy had trouble believing what he was hearing. He shook his head as though to clear it, but Richard's words and his contempt cut through him like a knife. Why have I not seen this? How could I have been so blind? Isabelle sat up, "How do you stand being around him, my love? I know he is your cousin, but the two of you are as different as day is from night. He is boring yes, but he is also arrogant. Even the Ton speaks of his arrogance." Richard ran his hand across her breasts and then kissed her. "He was not always such a man. When younger he was pleasant and fun to be with, but when he became Lord and

Master of Pemberley, he became insufferable, isolating himself. His excuse is that he has duties and responsibilities. He inherits Rosings, you know; as if he needs another estate! Darcy is wealthy beyond belief while I barely exist on my military pay." Isabelle stoked his cheek, "But, dearest, does not your father give you an allowance?" Richard snorted, "Such as it is!" His voice turned so harsh and bitter that Darcy hardly recognized it. "Our fathers are determined you will marry him since I can offer you little but my love. When I am in battle, and I lay down to sleep on the cold, hard ground, I cannot help but remember that Darcy sleeps in a soft, warm bed. If I am lucky, I have a tent over me, but if not, I am eaten up by bugs or rained on. When we are fighting, we do not always know when we will eat, but my cousin dines on the finest foods prepared by a French chef, and he never misses a meal."

Richard laughed, but his grim expression belied his laughter. "I would like to see him face the enemy in battle. He would run like the coward he is." Coward? I am a coward? Why does Richard fling out these accusations? How can he say such cruel words? "Oh, my poor darling," Isabelle crooned, as she caressed his face and nipped at his lips. "My father is insistent that I marry the idiot. It is all he ever talks about since those express messages began arriving." Her voice turned thoughtful. "I wonder what those messages contain, as they greatly upset him. When he received the last one, he suggested I compromise myself with Darcy to force the engagement." "You mean compromise yourself like this?" Richard laughed as he squeezed her breasts. "Or do you mean like this?" He lifted her dress and stroked her with his hand. He swiftly pulled her on top of him, squeezing her buttocks as she moved up and down.

There was a long silence, interrupted only by moans and softly spoken endearments as the couple engaged in another round of love making. Although Darcy's body had grown rigid, his legs were trembling. Slowly, he sank to the ground where he was hidden behind the large boulder, praying they would leave so he could escape to his chamber at Rosings. He needed solitude as he could not untangle his thoughts; they were too difficult to process. His head was pounding. This is Richard speaking! He knows me better than anyone, yet he calls me dull, boring, and anti-social? I have a superior attitude? I am arrogant and aloof? It must be a joke; surely this cannot be Richard's true feelings toward me. I thought he enjoyed being with me, that we had fun together. We have known each other all my life, and I loved him as a brother! He listened to the moans and closed his eyes. Why did he not tell me of his desire for Miss Weatherby? He knows she has not engaged

my heart, and I would have released her without a thought. Dammit to hell, I would have helped them, made it easy for them to marry. I would have gladly settled enough on Richard to allow them to marry. Has he ever shown his true feelings to me? I cannot think of a single example! Darcy was aware that they had ended another round of love making, and that Miss Weatherby was speaking again. At first, he paid no attention to her words, although he caught a nervous tone in her voice. Suddenly, Richard began shouting, and his thoughts were interrupted. Holding his breath Darcy leaned forward and listened. "What? What did you say? My God, it cannot be!" At the sound of Richard's shouting, Darcy heard urgency and panic forming in Miss Weatherby's voice. "Richard, I said I have not had my courses for over a month, and I fear that I am with child. What are we to do?"

Richard stood and began pacing back and forth in front of her. "Isabelle, it is time to cease kidding ourselves and make definite plans. Either you seduce him, and pretend the child is his so that he will marry you, or..." "Or what, Richard?" Isabelle whimpered as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Or we rid ourselves of him," Richard snarled. "I am in his will; he was fool enough to tell me the amount is twenty thousand pounds. If he is dead, your father will allow us to marry, and we will live very well on that and your dowry. I will also have a small inheritance from my father when he passes. In addition, if he dies I will be Georgiana's only guardian, and I would have control of her dowry. Everything would be perfect for us." Isabelle's voice was small and uncertain, "But dearest, can you mur... can you harm your own cousin? What if you are caught? I could not bear to see you hanged."

"I will not be caught. As for doing away with him, I confess it might cause me temporary pain, but I could do it and make it seem like an accident. Actually, it would be quite easy as he trusts me." Darcy was startled to hear Richard laugh. His heart pounded so loud he feared being discovered. His hands were slick with sweat and his chest tightened, as he attempted to block out the rest of their conversation. Everything had changed dramatically with those few words. From Richard's own lips he learned of his betrayal. Damn you Richard! I do not care one whit about Miss Weatherby, you can have her, but you...you are now dead to me. Dead! He felt his chest constrict until he keeled over. The lump in his throat had taken away his ability to breathe in anything other than short, labored breaths, and his eyes misted until he felt the wetness on his cheeks. Dead! He was vaguely aware that the two lovers were still making plans, but he paid them no heed. He pulled his legs up to his chest and sat with his head on his knees, their words

still pounding through his mind; it has been easy to fool him, he is an idiot, he is dull, anti-social, aloof. Even the Ton speaks of his arrogance. But worst of all was the plan to murder him. How long has Richard planned to do away with me? Suddenly he thought of his sister, Georgiana. Would Richard only steal her dowry or would he harm her as well? Only this morning he would have said no, but now... he could believe anything of his cousin. The thought flickered through his mind that he should challenge his cousin to a duel, but his pain was too great, and he could not think clearly. All he wanted was to leave Rosings and never see either of them again. Darcy felt as though he was in shock. When he was finally able to stand, he was in a daze, and he stumbled toward the house, careful not to raise the suspicions of the couple that lay behind him. Only a few hundred feet away, he heard his aunt call out to him, loud enough for the couple to hear.

He turned around slowly and saw that his aunt had startled the two. They jumped up and straightened their clothing. They could not avoid Darcy and Lady Catherine, and were soon standing before them. Darcy, waiting for his aunt to speak, kept his gaze on the lovers. He saw fear in their eyes as they stared at him, and then looked away. He knew what they were thinking: Did he see us, did he hear that we planned to kill him? They could not be certain. Darcy noted Richard rubbing his temples as though he was in pain. You deserve a headache, cousin, for speaking of murdering me. He was aware that his aunt had spoken and stood waiting for his answer. Shuddering, he said, "Excuse me, Aunt, but I have urgent business to attend." He turned and walked toward the house like an old man going to his death, but not caring. In his room, he rang for Foster and told him to pack; they were leaving the next morning at first light, and he did not know when he would return. Georgiana was in London with Mrs. Annesley, but he could not face her questions. He was going to Pemberley. If

there was any hope for him to find peace it would be there. While Darcy waited for Foster to pack, he wrote a message to Mrs. Cuthbert, his London housekeeper, and to Mrs. Reynolds at Pemberley, barring Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, his older brother the Viscount, and Lord and Lady Matlock from his home. Another was written to Mrs. Annesley, saying that Georgiana was forbidden future contact with any member of the Fitzwilliam family, and promising to speak with his sister as soon as he returned to London. He could not say when that would be; only that he would contact her. He was in the midst of writing a short message to Lady Catherine when a knock on the door interrupted him. It was his aunt. He bowed, and then motioned her inside. Her face was greatly troubled, and her hands shook. Darcy became alarmed, and quickly locked the door before leading her to a chair. "Aunt, are you unwell? May I bring you something for your relief, a glass of wine

perhaps?" He leaned over her with his hand on her shoulder, greatly concerned. She waved him away and pointed to a nearby chair. Seating himself, he waited for her to speak. Lady Catherine's voice broke when she said "Nephew," so she swallowed and began again in a stronger voice: "Nephew, I believe we witnessed the same happenings this afternoon, and we must speak of it." Darcy frowned, his forehead wrinkling as he thought, Oh, dear God, my aunt saw and heard them too? He nodded his head and cautiously acknowledged, "Perhaps, if it involves..." "It does!" Lady Catherine knew they spoke of the same incident. "Let me tell you how I came to discover them," and she began her story. "Gossip concerning Richard and Miss Weatherby was repeated to me by my lady's maid, Heather. They had been seen more than once by servants, and I demanded that

Heather take me to their meeting place. Apparently, as you approached from one direction, I drew near from another. I was treading upon moss, muffling my footsteps, as I suspect were you. I was unaware of your presence. Were you aware of mine?" Darcy shook his head, and his aunt continued. "I was shocked by what I saw and heard, and I swayed so that Heather had to support me. Closing my eyes for a few moments, I then motioned to my maid my intentions of returning to Rosings. "That is when I saw you. My cry out to you put them on notice they had been seen, and I am sorry for that. Tonight I had to use every bit of strength and self control that I had to enter the drawing room." She explained how the guilty couple looked at each other when she entered, alarm in their eyes. "I found I could not bear to be in their company, so I came here." After his aunt finished, he stood and drew her up into his arms. As he embraced her she began crying silently and clinging to him.

Since her daughter's death, Lady Catherine appeared frail and rather fragile, for her body had shrunk; however, she had an inner strength that she now called upon. As she drew away from him, Darcy used his handkerchief to dry her tears. "Will you be well, Aunt Catherine?" She smiled and patted his hand. "Yes, I will be fine. I know you will leave at first light, and I do not blame you. Will you come again, though? You will not leave your old aunt for long?" Relieved that she had regained control, he laughed and said, "You may count on me; I will be back before you know it. There are other tasks to complete, but for now I must leave for Pemberley. I will write and let you know when I next arrive." She smiled again, "You are a good man, Nephew." She looked down and saw his letters, "I will say goodnight now, and leave you to finish your correspondence. I wish you a safe and swift journey."

"Thank you," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. After she left, Darcy wrote his last two letters to Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm Weatherby, stating that any friendship between Miss Weatherby and him was broken. There would be no courtship, no engagement and no marriage. For the reason, he referred them to Miss Weatherby and Colonel Fitzwilliam. At first light, the carriage appeared, and as Darcy stepped from the house, he felt a hand touch his arm. He whirled around and looked into the face of the man who had revealed himself as an enemy. Shaking the hand off, he growled, "Touch me again and I will kill you." Richard stepped back, fear in his eyes. "Can we not speak of this, Cousin? I know you saw us and heard what we said, but I can explain if you will only allow me. It is not as bad as it seems. You do not know the complete story."

Darcy stared at him in disbelief, a scowl covering his face. "I am no longer your cousin, and there is nothing to say except, if you value your life you will never contact me again." "What am I to say to mother and father? What explanation can I give? What is Isabelle to say to her father?" Darcy laughed harshly, "That is your concern, not mine. Had you come to me with the truth, I would have helped you, but now I hope never to see you again. Warn your parents not to contact me; your father has played me for a fool, and I do not wish to see him. All I want from you is a legal document relinquishing your guardianship of Georgiana. Do not contact either of us. You are dead to me." "What will you tell Georgiana?" "The truth!" Darcy walked away and never looked back.

"You cannot tell her the whole truth because you are too bloody arrogant to listen," Richard yelled, as his cousin stepped into the carriage. As the carriage moved away from Rosings, the images of Richard and Miss Weatherby invaded Darcy's thoughts. They were soon forgotten, however, and replaced with the stinging words about his character, and the plan to murder him. Their words rang incessantly in his ears. For hours he was lost in thought as he questioned himself. Why had Richard and his former playmate, George Wickham, turned against him? Why had Wickham tried to rob him and kidnap his sister? Wickham's behavior could be partially blamed on jealously, but could all of it? Was Wickham a bad seed as his mother, Lady Anne, had declared? Darcy had turned these questions round and round his head for years, with no answer. As for Richard, why had his cousin talked of killing him rather than asking for help?

Darcy had helped him many times throughout the years. He had never turned Richard away. His home was always opened to him, even when Darcy was away. Richard was the one person who knew him. Darcy had opened himself to his cousin as he had with no other. He had revealed how uncomfortable he was with strangers due to his shyness. Even with people in the Ton, he was uncomfortable. He did not know how to engage in idle chit-chat. No one seemed to value him for himself, only for his wealth and connections, and his estate. Matchmaking mothers set up compromising situations hoping to catch him with their daughters. Darcy had grown wary, and suspicious of everyone. He was seldom able to relax and enjoy himself, except with his closest friends. Richard knew all of this, yet he laughed at him, called him dull, an idiot, and then called him arrogant. All his life Darcy had tried to do what was right. He had tried to faithfully carry out his duties and

responsibilities. He was painfully honest, and would never cheat anyone. He went to great lengths to be a good brother and master, and a loyal friend. Darcy felt his pain and hurt turn to bitterness. By God, I will think of what pleases me from this day forward. No more sacrificing myself for family members who think only of using and betraying me for their own greed. Those days are gone! I am my own man, and I will do whatever I want without concern for family! **~~** The colonel glared at Darcy's carriage as it disappeared from view, cursing himself for being foolish and careless with Isabelle. A small part of him felt guilty for betraying Darcy, but he pushed that thought aside. He had enough to worry about without dealing with guilt. He had to face his aunt again and then his father. Neither would be easy; in fact, he expected those meetings to be worse than

facing the French in battle. His headache and the voices that had persued him since childhood were pounding him. Why could he not be free of them?
Warning: This chapter is full of angst! CHAPTER 3

Rosings, 1809 The morning after Darcy left Rosings, Richard and Isabelle were summoned to the dining room to break their fast. At the head of the table, Lady Catherine sat motionless as they entered; only her eyes followed them as they made their way to the chairs at the other end. No one was served until she nodded her head, and several moments passed before she signaled the servants. Richard peered toward Isabelle and identified the same fear in her eyes as he knew was revealed in his. Sitting as far down in their seats as possible, they both swallowed each mouthful of food in a hurried manner, barely looking anywhere other than at each other, though they felt his

aunt's glower with every bite. Every time they looked up, she appeared stone-faced and remained absolutely still, except for her fingers tapping on the table to the beat of Beethoven's fifth funeral composition. As the last bit of food was finished and the final sip of coffee swallowed, Lady Catherine waved the servants from the room. Once alone with the two young people, she announced, "I sent express messages to Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm early this morning. I expect them to arrive this afternoon to take you home, as I shall not offer one of my carriages for you. You should spend this time packing if the two of you can uncouple long enough. I want you both out of my house as soon as I have finished with your fathers." Lowering her head to conceal the wetness of her eyes, Isabelle hurried to her room. As Richard rose to follow her, Lady Catherine demanded, "I have not finished with you, Nephew. Sit down and listen closely." Richard sat with his head down, rubbing his

hands as though trying to protect them from the pound of his flesh she was about to extract. "I am very displeased and disappointed with you, Richard. You and Darcy were like brothers. He would have released Miss Weatherby, and made it possible for you to marry her. Instead, you lied to him and treated him as you would an enemy. Why do you hate him so?" Richard jumped up and pounded his fist on the table. "Why should I not hate him? He has everything, everything! My brother has everything! I have nothing!" He jabbed his chest with his finger. "But Isabelle loves me. Me! My father ignored his own son to give the woman I love to a man that needs nothing." "So it is true! You do hate him!" she whispered. In her heart, she had hoped Richard would deny her accusation and ask for forgiveness, but it was not to be. How hard and cold he has become! Did the military change him, or am I seeing him,

truly seeing him, for the first time? "How can you hate your own cousin who has been so generous to you? Do you hate me as well?" Richard realized too late that he had been far too honest about his feelings. I am certain she has included me in her will; it would not do for me to anger her anymore than I already have. Always able to talk his way out of any situation, he was confident he could do so now. He took her hands and pleaded in a soft voice, "Dearest Aunt, please believe me, I do not hate Darcy and I most certainly do not hate you. I spoke out of anger, and..." "You do!" she interrupted, and pulled her hands from his. "Why else would you plot to injure him and bring about his demise?" Lady Catherine's voice wavered. With a ready response on his tongue Richard looked up, startled to see tears in a pair of eyes that had been hard and black all through breakfast. A moment later, his back tightened as she spoke again in a voice as cold as steel.

"You are a damn fool! Darcy loved you so much that he begged me to leave Rosings to you instead of him." Richard gasped and held his breath. His eyes had widened as his aunt leaned toward him, glaring with a blackness he did not believe possible even from her. "Because of his pleas I had my will changed last year, making you the heir to Rosings, but now..." Richard's jaw dropped open. "I sent a message late last night requesting that my attorney change my will back to reflect Darcy as my sole heir; the only one worthy of Rosings. He brought the papers this morning for my signature. He arrived and then left escorted by several armed footmen. I did not wish him to be another target of yours." "I would never have..."

"You are a fool of a man, and now you remain a poor one at that." Lady Catherine swallowed several times, and Richard deduced that she was fighting to bring her emotions under control. Desperately, he searched his mind for a solution; How can I respond in order to once again be in her good graces? What can I say that will turn this around to my benefit? One look at the harsh expression on her face, and Richard knew without a doubt that it was too late. There was nothing he could say or do to change her mind. He slumped back into his chair. The air in the room felt heavy, and he was finding it hard to breathe after the news he had just received. Wealth! My God, I was this close to having wealth! Now I have lost it all! Lady Catherine took several sips of water and inhaled deeply before she spoke again in the harsh voice she had used all morning. "In your foolishness you have lost a great deal. Not only have you lost Rosings and the wealth that comes with it, you have lost the esteem and love of your cousin. That is your

greatest loss. Now go from me! You are no longer my nephew and you will never again be welcomed in my home." In spite of her harsh words, Lady Catherine knew in her heart she would eventually forgive him, but for now she did not wish him to know. Richard stood upright and walked toward the door, but when he looked back at his aunt, he relied upon his military training to glare at her with a pair of eyes that were unreadable to anyone. You bloody old hag, I would not give you the satisfaction of knowing I am disappointed over losing Rosings. Satisfied when she curled back into her chair, he bowed, and the only sound was from his boots as he walked away. Though he walked briskly, it was not quickly enough to miss hearing his aunt speak to the now empty room. "I wonder if he still thinks Miss Weatherby was worth what he has now lost." **~~** Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm arrived that

afternoon, and a servant showed them into Lady Catherine's study. Once there, they waited while she had the servant pour brandy for them. The two men had just settled back into their chairs when she exclaimed, "Drink up, I won't insult the word by calling you gentlemen! You must know I am most seriously displeased! When I tell you what has happened you will need more, I assure you." Sharing sideway glances, the two men were outraged. Sir Matlock looked at his sister angrily, "Now, look here, Catherine, you cannot speak to us in that manner. I am your brother, and I insist you pay me proper respect. And might I remind you Sir Malcolm is a guest in your home? You are treating him unbelievably rude." Lady Catherine merely stared at them. Continuing as though her brother had not spoken, she gave them a complete accounting of all she saw and heard, while continuing to fill their glasses. By the time she finished, the men had consumed several brandies, but neither seemed to be impaired.

I had hoped the brandy would loosen their tongues so they would talk freely, but it appears to have had the opposite effect on them. She watched them carefully as she spoke to try and determine the state of their minds. When she apprised them of the more intimate details, Lady Catherine was surprised that their only reaction was to grimace and clear their throats. After she finished speaking, there was silence for several minutes, and she took that opportunity to study them closer. I wonder about their connection, and why they ignored the obvious affection between their children? Why were they so desperate to have Darcy? For a moment Lady Catherine felt a twinge of guilt. She knew had Anne lived, and Darcy had resisted marrying her, she would have done everything in her power to force their marriage. Suddenly, slamming his glass on the table, her brother broke the silence. He jumped out of his chair and began pacing the floor. "Damn him! I told Richard to stay away! I

knew something like this would happen if he came here. Now all my plans are ruined!" Turning to Sir Malcolm he shouted, "Could not your daughter keep her legs together until we had her married to Darcy?" Sir Malcolm lunged at Lord Matlock and shouted back, "You should have taught your son to keep his breeches buttoned. I warned you a year ago that he had compromised her, but you failed to keep him away." Lady Catherine could hardly believe her ears! This was worse than she had thought. She was furious but determined not to show it, so she waited until her brother and Sir Malcolm exhausted themselves and stopped arguing. Sighing, she stood and then said, "Am I now to understand that you both tried to trick Darcy into marrying Miss Weatherby, knowing that Richard had already compromised her? You are both disgusting, although at this point, I am surprised at nothing you two would do. Leave my house, Wesley, and take Sir Malcolm, Richard and Miss Weatherby with you."

Lady Catherine left her study and walked up to her chambers. Hoping they could not hear her, she slammed her bedroom door behind her. **~~** In the carriage headed for London, the four inhabitants spent their time peering out the window, at the floor, at their hands, or anywhere but at each other. Richard and Isabelle were seated across from each other, and the few times they attempted to speak their fathers would glower, determining their silence without so much as a single word. The young couple retreated further into the cushions and gazed at the scenes passing by, with only the sounds of Isabelle's occasional sob or Richard's gulp filling the carriage. Once they reached Lord Matlock's home, Armitage Park, he herded them to his study. The occupants of the room did not speak as they watched the servant pour whiskey for the men and wine for Isabelle. After the servant left, the waterfall of words came

gushing forth into the quiet room. "Well, that was a bloody disaster! Tell me Richard, what were you thinking? Going against my orders and conducting your little tryst out in the open where everyone could, and did, see and hear you. That was one of the most asinine things you have ever done." "And you, Isabelle!" Sir Malcolm spat. "You have conducted yourself as a common prostitute! You have spoiled everything! I should turn you out with nothing but the clothes on your back." Isabelle lowered her head and blinked back tears. Richard moved alongside her, taking her hand in his. "And stop that crying!" her father demanded. Isabelle scurried to the nearest chair and pulled out a handkerchief. "Why was it so necessary for Darcy to marry her?" Richard shouted at his father, whose blank expression had turned into a frown with each word his son spoke. Ignoring his

father's displeasure, he continued, "I love her while he despises her. Besides, she carries my child." "Pardon?" Both men dropped their jaws and raised their brows. Lord Matlock grabbed Richard by the arm. "How could you do this to me? You have ruined all our plans, you bloody fool! Richard watched as his father's face grew red with anger. "Tell me, Father, what have I ruined? Tell me what is going on that you tried to force a marriage between Darcy and Isabelle when neither wished it?" Richard sneered at his father, "Then tell me why we are in this mess! Could it be that you have ruined everything?" Glancing at Sir Malcolm shaking his head no, Lord Matlock turned back to his son. "No, Richard, I want you to tell me about this idiotic plan of yours to kill your own cousin." Lord Matlock paused when Richard glared back with widen eyes. "Do not look so surprised, your aunt told me everything!"

Richard felt his face burn. Who in bloody hell does my father think he is, lecturing me on my conduct? He is ten times worst than I am with his gambling and women. Well, I will not stand for it any longer! It is time I stood up to the old bastard. Richard thrust forward until his face was close to his father's. Sneering, he asked, "Lord Matlock does your wife and elder son know how your foolishness has put the Fitzwilliam family in jeopardy?" Richard picked up his glass and threw it across the room, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Trying to master his emotions and find a rational thread to weave his way through this situation, he waited until the brandy slid down the wall. When he thought he had himself under control, he turned and spoke calmly to his father. "Military men talk of killing all the time. We are trained to view killing as a solution; did you not know that? I was angry. I hate that our family is in such straights while Darcy grows richer every year."

"Son..." "You tried to force the woman I love onto him. To him! You did this! Why not me? I hated his easy life. I hated my life." Richard suddenly stopped speaking and stood staring out the window. His mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of Darcy, and how he could manipulate his cousin to be back in his good graces. Regardless of how much I hate Darcy, I need to fix this somehow. He has always been generous, giving me whatever I want. I need that generosity to continue if I wish to maintain my lifestyle. No one knows he has supplemented my income for years, and they do not need to learn of it now. Darcy has never been able to stay angry with me, so perhaps it is not too late. He will surely calm down in a few days, as he always does. Richard did not realize, until it was too late, that he spoke his next words aloud, "I will go to Pemberley in a few days, and smooth over this entire incident." Lord Matlock scoffed. "He will not listen, nor will he forgive you. Once Darcy's good opinion is lost, it is lost forever. He will

never trust you again. It is better that you stay away from him, so that you can contain any gossip that might arise." His voice dropped, "Do you not realize what a scandal this split in our family could cause if it becomes known? What if your threat against his life circulates among the Ton? We would never live it down. All sympathy will go to Darcy, and we will be shunned." Richard gave a short laugh and threw up his hands. "Do not be so dramatic, Father. Besides, whose fault is it? You have been a bigger fool than I have ever been! You risked everything and what did you gain? I will explain to Darcy all about your role in this affair! He will listen and then he will hate you more than me." Lord Matlock's face twisted in rage, and with a roar he slammed his hands against his son's chest, shoving him toward the fireplace. Richard stumbled backward, then righted himself and hit his father in the jaw with his fist. Shock registering on his face, Lord Matlock

looked up at his son. "You dare hit me, your own father! Am I to be your next victim? Perhaps you will kill me instead of Darcy." Richard stared down at his father, a sneer on his face. "Perhaps I will! After all, it is not my foolishness that put our family in danger." Isabelle rushed to Richard, and slipped her arm around his waist. "Richard, are you all right?" she cried. Noticing the tears gathered in her eyes, he draped his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. "Have no fear, my love, I am well." Glaring at the two men, he vowed, "I will not allow either of them to hurt us again." Sir Malcolm hurried to help Lord Matlock off the floor. Father and son stood staring angrily at each other, so Sir Malcolm seized that opportunity to make known his displeasure. "I insist you stop this quarreling now! You are both acting as children, and it does none of us any good. Now that we have lost Darcy, we must focus our attention in a new direction, using Richard instead. He and

Isabelle must marry, and the sooner the better. The child will be early and there will be gossip, but that cannot be helped. Besides, it will only last a short while, and then new gossip will begin circulating. I suggest we obtain a special license and that they marry this coming Saturday." "First, we must speak privately with Richard." Lord Matlock looked at Sir Malcolm, "Perhaps Miss Weatherby would like to go upstairs and rest. This will take a while." Stepping away from Richard, Isabelle straightened her gown and patted her hair. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief before pulling her shoulders back. She nodded. Lord Matlock rang for his housekeeper. Isabelle sighed and waited until the door opened. "Mrs. Edwards, please take Miss Weatherby upstairs to the blue bedroom. Bring a tray of tea and refreshments to her, and take care of any other needs she may have."

"Yes, sir." Mrs. Edwards turned toward the downhearted girl and offered her a smile. "This way, Miss." After they had gone, Lord Matlock closed and locked the door. "Have a seat, Richard. Sir Malcolm and I have something to tell you that must never go out of this room." Richard watched in surprise as Sir Malcolm held up his hand. "First, Wesley, I would like to say that our original agreement still stands, even though we lost Darcy." Lord Matlock's shoulders relaxed and he released a deep sigh. "That is very generous of you, Malcolm, considering I failed in my mission." He lowered his eyes and stared at his hands folded in his lap. Sir Malcolm settled back in his chair, a grim look on his face. "Before you think me so generous, I am doing this only because there may come a time when it will be important to us that you still have your estate. Also, your gambling debts must not go unpaid. We

cannot have gossip circulating about your finances. It could possibly cause someone to look closer at our affairs" Lord Matlock looked at his friend in confusion. I do not understand." "Think about it, Wesley!" Sir Malcolm exclaimed impatiently. "I do not want anyone snooping into my personal business, and neither should you. You know what would happen if my other activities came to light. It is due to those activities that will allow me to pay you and Richard handsomely, so I do not believe you would wish them to end. My estate does well indeed, but not well enough to support all three of us." While the men talked, Richard found his mind wandering. What was the agreement between my father and Isabelle's? Forcing Darcy into an unwanted marriage was a part of it. Hmm, apparently, Sir Malcolm plans to take care of us financially. I remember my father saying that Weatherby's estate is not entailed, so it becomes part of

Isabelle's dowry when the old man dies. I may not need Rosings after all. Jolted out of his reverie when he heard the name of a man he hated, Richard sat up straighter and exclaimed, "Wait, did you just mention George Wickham's name?" "Yes, we did!" Lord Matlock said impatiently. "It is obvious you have not been listening, but I strongly advise you to do so now." Richard pushed his thoughts aside and concentrated on what was being said. Discussion between the three men lasted far into the night. When all had been revealed to Richard, he stood and began pacing. "So that is the reason for the charade with Darcy! And you say Isabelle knows nothing?" Sir Malcolm cleared his throat, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "She does not, and she must never know! It is now your responsibility to protect her. Richard, you will never have to worry about money again, but in exchange, you must find and

destroy Wickham. His blackmail must stop! I leave it to your discretion what method you will use to deal with the scoundrel." Richard's face twisted in anger, and his voice was harsh. "I assure you that I will deal with him! It may take time, however, and you must never question my methods. Are we in agreement?" Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm agreed, and the three men shook hands. No part of their discussion was written down and nothing was signed. It was too dangerous to take a chance on someone discovering what they were doing. **~~** So it was that Isabelle Weatherby and Richard Fitzwilliam were united in marriage. They spent their honeymoon in their new townhouse, which was located in _____Street. Richard sold his commission and eagerly started a new life as a gentleman of leisure.

Their daughter, Sophia Harriet Fitzwilliam, was born almost eight months later. Birth announcements were sent to all family members. Darcy threw his into the fire without looking at it, thus he did not respond. Lady Catherine sent a gift with no message enclosed. CHAPTER 4 London, November, 1811 Remembrances of the past swirled through Darcy's mind as he gazed into the fire for several hours. He had refused Richard entry as he had for over two and a half years. The stabbing sensation that pierced his chest whenever anyone spoke Richard's name, or his cousin appeared, had never abated. He carried the pain of betrayal wherever he went. After finishing his third brandy, Darcy finally retired to his bedchamber. He changed into his nightclothes, but instead of going to bed, he poured another drink and sank down into a comfortable chair. He took

a sip of brandy, sighed and closed his eyes, still remembering. Pemberley, April 1809 The day Darcy arrived home from Rosings he closed himself in his study to drink until he was drunk. He was attempting to purge himself of all that had happened. He had not been successful and sought a different path, his mother's path. She had visited tenants to see to their needs, and had taken him with her. At each stop the children had greeted her with enthusiasm. She had never forgotten to bring them cookies and candies. The parents had shown their appreciation by having a pot of tea, some bread, and occasionally a stew ready. And so, on this day, he rode out over Pemberley, stopping and visiting as many tenants as possible just as his mother had done. He had a basket of sweet treats for the young ones, and shared whatever meager food the parents offered.

Just before going home, after a full day of talking, playing, and eating, he rode to the top of a hill overlooking the house and much of the land. He felt his chest puff up as he realized what a great gift his father had left him. He had always loved Pemberley, but he had also taken it for granted. That day he understood what it meant to be a Darcy. This is mine; I will take care of it and its people. I will love it as it should be loved, and someday my son will inherit all of this. He began making a mental list of all the things he would do to make life better for himself and his people. First, he would restore his mother's tradition of visiting his tenants and taking baskets of goods that they needed. He would have his steward, Mr. Hudgins, notify him of any special needs or problems the tenants shied away from revealing to him. As he rode home that evening, the bitterness he felt toward his uncle and cousin was pushed to the back of his mind. Instead, he concentrated on setting a goal, and he vowed not to deviate from it. He did not need the

Fitzwilliams; he could get along very well without them. No one would ever again be allowed to push him into something he did not want to do. He felt a strong desire to be his own man and, by God, he would succeed! That night, Richards' accusations at Rosings came back to haunt him. He admitted it likely that those who did not know him well did think him dull and aloof. His natural shyness prevented him from enjoying large crowds, and at balls and large dinner parties he was quiet and did not mingle. Did he present himself as being superior to others? Did he appear arrogant? He had never been schooled in the art of idle chitchat, and was impatient with it. He disliked dancing immensely, especially if he was unfamiliar with his partner; therefore, he seldom danced. Had his outward demeanor earned him the reputation of appearing haughty, giving others the impression he thought himself superior? Even if he was guilty of such a public faade, he had revealed the truth to Richard. He had never

withheld anything from his cousin. So, what had caused Richard to be bitter, and to hate him enough to plot his demise? Was it jealousy? Certainly, his cousin did not have an easy life, having been forced into an unwanted military life. As a second son, Richard would inherit only a small sum of money when Lord Matlock died, so his only hope of living the life of a gentleman was to marry a wealthy woman. Over and over, Darcy had asked himself; why did Richard not approach me about Isabelle during their year of intimacy? Why did Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm push me to marry Isabelle? Why not let Richard marry her? Why did they need me? What were they hiding? "Why, why, why," he mumbled aloud, as he paced the floor. Now, he was determined to make the effort to socialize more, and try to conquer his aversion to large crowds; thereby bringing about changes to his personality. Darcy sighed. I suppose I should make the effort for Georgiana's sake if for no other reason. She

will be fourteen soon. In three short years she will have her coming out. I must do all I can to make her entry into the Ton as easy as possible. Darcy loved his sister. She was all the family he had left. "Very well," he said aloud, "I will make changing Fitzwilliam Darcy another goal. I will do it for Georgiana, as well as myself." His thoughts drifted to the bitter-sweet memories of his mother. There were times he could almost feel her loving arms around him, and smell her subtle perfume that lingered in the air. After she died, he had planned to slip her bottle of perfume into his room, so he would have a constant reminder of her. When he stole into her room after the funeral, however, Mrs. Reynolds had everything packed and ready to take to the attic. Remembering his happiness when she was alive was inevitably followed by pain so intense he would often clutch his chest and moan aloud. After she died, Darcy's father

was too grief stricken to give his children the love and comfort they needed. I was but a boy of twelve, and my sister an infant. I needed my father to comfort me in my anguish. We could have helped each other, but he turned to George Wickham instead. Perhaps he could not deal with his grief and mine too. I felt isolated and alone and turned to Richard, pouring out my pain, exposing my very soul. I was an open wound that would not stop bleeding. I thought he and I had grown closer, but I see now he was only becoming a master manipulator. I was such a fool! **~~** In June, Darcy had two unwelcome visitors. He had been in his study working on estate matters when Mr. Reynolds knocked on the door. "Enter," he called, and leaned back in his chair when Mr. Reynolds came in, clasping his trembling hands. His face was troubled as he stood before Darcy.

"Master, Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm Weatherby are requesting admittance. I advised them you are not available, but they insist." Darcy frowned and walked over to the window. He saw his uncle's carriage out front. I wonder why they are here. I would like to have seen my uncle's face when he was told what happened. Was the plot to kill me withheld? No, my aunt would have told them. "Are they inside?" Mr. Reynolds shook his head. "No, sir. You told me not to let them enter, if or when they arrived. They wait outside." "Very good, Reynolds." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Go back and tell them that I am here, but I refuse to see them. "Sir, they assured me they would not leave." Darcy shook his head, "That is their

decision, but I will not see them." "Yes, sir." Mr. Reynolds turned and left the study. He soon returned; "Master, they said they will wait at the door until you grant them entrance." "Their stubbornness will not get them into Pemberley. They cannot come inside." Again and again, Mr. Reynolds went to the door, but he came back to the study with the same message; they would not leave! Darcy's growing frustration could be seen in his pacing up and down the room. They refuse to abide by my wishes. What will it take to make them leave? Their very presence makes me feel as though a scab is being ripped off an old wound. "Tell them..." Darcy's lips pressed together in anger. "Never mind, I will tell them myself." He hurried to the front door, carefully schooling the angry look he had on his face to one of disinterest. Stepping just outside the door he confronted the two men.

He gave Sir Malcolm only a glance, before turning to stare into Lord Matlock's face. He knew his uncle had expected to be admitted to Pemberley immediately. He was not used to being told no, especially by a servant. His uncle stared back, his eyes hard and cold. Neither man was willing to give way to the other. Finally Lord Matlock spoke. "Darcy, let us in. We need to speak with you, and resolve this unfortunate state of affairs. Neither of us wishes to be alienated from you." "Humph! Lord Matlock, I told your son I do not wish to see you, nor were you to contact me. You are no longer part of my family. Leave now and do not return. I will never admit you or your son to either of my homes again." Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm glanced at each other. Darcy was in front of the door, his servant waiting behind him in case he was needed. He stood with his legs apart and his hands at his waist, as if daring them to come closer.

Suddenly, Lord Matlock's anger erupted; he rushed toward Darcy and shoved his large chest against his nephew's, as if to harm him. Unable to control his anger, his face turned a deep red and his hands balled into fists. He pushed his face into Darcy's, and spittle flew from his lips into his nephew's face when he yelled, "I insist on entering Pemberley and speaking with you inside, Nephew!" Ignoring the spittle, Darcy pushed his uncle away with the palms of his hands. Lord Matlock would have fallen had it not been for Sir Malcolm grabbing him. "No, sir." Darcy stepped back and crossed his arms. "I am not interested in anything you have to say. You are a liar, and your son betrayed me!" Darcy brushed invisible dirt from his coat sleeves before revealing a blank expression as he continued. "I am no longer your nephew! I want nothing to do with either of you, so leave now and do not come back." "I am your mother's brother; you cannot treat me with such disrespect!"

"Thank God she is not here to see how her brother has treated her son. She would be grieved to know what you have done, how you lied and attempted to use me." Lord Matlock trembled with rage. "You will be sorry for this, Fitzwilliam. I will..." "You will do nothing," Darcy stated flatly. He stepped back inside and closed the door quietly. "Lock it, Reynolds, and if they come again do not answer the door." Mr. Reynolds nodded. Although not informed of the nature of the problem between his master and Lord Matlock, his loyalty was always with Mr. Darcy. Darcy stared out the window of his study, his body trembling in anger and his face twisted into bitterness, as Lord Matlock and Sir Malcolm moved angrily toward the carriage. Why did they come? What could they possibly say to me? Darcy paused for a moment as a horrific thought tore through

his mind. With Miss Weatherby carrying Richard's child, surely they could not still believe I would marry her? No, that is impossible; my uncle was attempting to exert his authority on me, but he will never do that to me again! Satisfied when the carriage pulled away from the house, Darcy trudged up the stairs to his bedchambers. He remained resolute to his decision to disconnect the Fitzwilliams from his life when Richard appeared at the door a week later. No one answered his knock. Darcy glared through the window in his bedchamber at his cousin leaving. By God, they will leave me alone if I have to resort to legal action, he vowed. Darcy wrote to Lady Catherine after his uncle's appearance at Pemberley. No sooner had the letter gone than he questioned whether he should have sent it. It was full of bitterness, and he cursed himself for writing about such hostility to his aunt. He received her reply by return mail. Dearest Fitzwilliam,

Your letter arrived shortly after Wesley's visit to tell me of his confrontation with you. He sounds as bitter as you, although his reasons are not as sound. He left angry still after I told him he should not have tried to force entry into your home. He had no answer for his behavior when I asked why he approached you. It is not my brother's bitterness I wish to address, however, but yours. You have reasons to feel this way; however, I caution you not to let this anger and animosity toward your uncle and Richard warp your judgment toward your fellow man. Many years ago, I let my own bitterness toward Lewis de Bourgh consume me. I will not relate what brought this about. Some things should remain private. I will say only that I vowed to make his life as miserable as possible. I did not realize at the time how this would spill over and affect my dealings with every person I met. I am sure you remember how everyone, especially my tenants and house servants, feared and hated

me. I often wonder if my bitterness hastened Anne's death. You cannot know how I have tortured myself over this. It was only when I had to face the fact that Anne was dying that I truly looked at myself. I realized I had become a bitter old woman who had wasted her life, and the life of her most precious daughter. You, dearest nephew, were responsible for a great part of my change. I watched when you visited Anne. I saw how you made her laugh. I even thought for a while that you could give her the strength to fight her illness. It was not to be, however; her disease was too far advanced. But, for that last year, Anne was happy in a way she had never been. As I listened to her laughter and watched her face light up with happiness when you visited, I bitterly regretted all the dark years I gave her. Although it was too late for Anne, I vowed to change and to let my bitterness go. After a great struggle, I was finally able to forgive

Lewis, and to forgive myself. It is true that I am angry with Wesley and Richard, but I refuse to let it become bitterness. I know that someday the anger will fade. My hope is that with time you will let your own bitterness go, and be able to forgive your uncle and cousin, not for them but for yourself. It is not easy, Fitzwilliam, but it is possible. Do not let this experience draw you more into yourself. I saw that escalate after your father died, and it concerns me. Someday you will marry, but you will never be happy unless you can open yourself to your wife. When next you travel to London, you must rejoin society, and learn how to give of yourself. I am proud that you have already begun at Pemberley with your tenants and employees. I urge you to send for Georgiana and include her in your life. You will never regret doing so. Your loving aunt, Lady Catherine

Darcy folded the letter and put it in the top drawer of his desk. He had not told his aunt he knew what caused her bitterness toward her husband. She would never know that he had overheard her speak of the incident with his mother. That day, he learned that Lewis de Bourgh was in love with Darcy's mother, Anne. When she married George Darcy, Lewis turned to Catherine, who had always been in love with him. Catherine told Anne she was willing to forget that Lewis first wanted her sister. She felt she would make him a good wife, and he would soon forget his first love. That did not happen. Instead, his love for Anne only grew deeper until he was unable to hide it from his wife. Catherine had desperately wanted a child to love, who would love her in return, so she tolerated his visits to her room until she became with child. As soon as she felt the quickening, she locked her husband out of her bedroom and never allowed him back in. Darcy remembered how they had cried in

each other's arms. He often wondered why his aunt did not turn bitter toward his mother, but it seemed nothing could destroy the love between the sisters. He took Lady Catherine's letter out and read it again. Although he had already recognized the need to change and had begun the process, it would be a long time, if ever, before he could let go of his bitterness and forgive his uncle and Richard. In the meantime, he would push it aside and try not to let it consume him. That was the best he could do. **~~** Darcy turned to work, paying special attention to his interactions with those he came into contact with, taking more care to listen to his tenants and servants, and interacting more with the people in Lambton. He forced himself to accept invitations from his neighbors to attend dinner parties and balls. A concentrated effort was made to

overcome his natural shyness and become more at ease in society. He smiled more and danced often. He retained much of his quietness, however, and still preferred evenings at home, away from mindless chatter. **~~** In July, Darcy sent for his sister, Georgiana, and her companion, Mrs. Annesley. He was lonely without her, and when her own loneliness began to creep into her letters, he recognized the foolishness of keeping her in London. The day she arrived, Georgiana threw herself into her brother's arms, glad to be back at Pemberley with him. After their joyous reunion, Georgiana left for her chambers to rest from her journey. Once refreshed, she joined Darcy in a small sitting room for tea. The smile of happiness on her face reinforced his decision to bring her home. Georgiana sipped her tea and took a bite of her favorite biscuit. "Thank you for sending

for me, Brother. London was hot and lonely, and I was glad to leave." He leaned forward and took her hand. "I need you with me, dearest sister. Although estate matters take up a great deal of my time, you will have your studies during the day, so you should not be lonely. We will have the evenings to spend together, and on the days when I ride into Lambton, I thought you might like to go with me. Perhaps you would even consent to ride with me when I visit tenants." "Oh," she said, clapping her hands and smiling. "I would dearly love to spend this time with you. When you speak of visiting tenants, have you revived our mother's custom of taking care of their needs?" He smiled at her, glad to see her happiness. "Yes, indeed. I believe having you with me will mean a great deal to our tenants. Will you go with me tomorrow? I usually leave around ten o'clock." "Have you seen to the baskets of food and

clothing?" He nodded his head yes, and handed her a list he had made showing the needs of various tenants. They sat together discussing their plans for the morrow until a servant appeared, announcing dinner was ready. Later that evening, when Georgiana performed on the pianoforte for her brother and her companion, Darcy turned to Mrs. Annesley. "Her playing has improved, and I feel she has added a depth to the music I have not heard before." "Yes, sir," Mrs. Annesley replied. "Mr. Bradley is very pleased with Miss Darcy's progress. He asked me to reassure you that he will send a full report on her within a short time. He requests that you notify him when you return to London, as he wishes to continue working with her." "Very good, and in the meantime has he worked out a course of practice for my sister while she is here at Pemberley?"

Mrs. Annesley smiled. "Oh, yes, sir. The pieces she played tonight are part of her lessons." Although Mrs. Annesley soon retired, Georgiana lingered in the music room with her brother. "Fitzwilliam, will you tell me why Richard is not allowed to call on us? I will be fourteen this month, and I believe I am old enough to understand your reasons." Darcy stared at the floor for several moments contemplating the best words to use before raising his eyes to Georgiana. "Richard has changed. He is not the man I once thought he was. He, as well as our Uncle Fitzwilliam, sought to deceive me on a matter of great importance, which..." Darcy held her hands as he gazed into her eyes. He felt the corner of his eyes droop as did his mouth. He lowered his voice to a half whisper. "I cannot impart the reason to you at this time. I beg you to trust me, and when you are older I will tell you everything." He watched as different expressions crossed her face, and then he lowered his head. After

a few moments of thought, she tapped his shoulder and gave a brief smile when he looked up at her. "I always thought of Richard as another brother, and it pains me to hear you speak thus about him and our uncle. I will trust you about this, however, and will not speak of it. But, Brother, you must reveal everything to me when you feel I am mature enough. I will not wait forever." He agreed and thanked her for her forbearance and they retired for the night. The realization that he had been very tense about her reaction dawned upon him, and now that he had spoken to her he was finally able to relax. She appeared sad about the break in their family, but at least she had shown great trust in him. **~~** After visiting their tenants, and accompanying her brother to Lambton, Georgiana remarked one evening, "Brother, I am seeing a positive change in you. You are still the quiet man I have always known, but now you are making an effort to be

approachable. You smile more often, and this is helping me to relax around strangers." She was pleased when Darcy reached over and took her hand, "Thank you for noticing, Georgiana. I have made a vow to change myself into a more social being, and it is gratifying to hear your words." Six months after leaving Rosings, Darcy kept the promise he had made to his aunt in April; to return and finish the work he had begun. Georgiana accompanied him, but on that first night, he waited until his sister retired for the evening to speak to his aunt of the events in April. Again, he informed her of what transpired during Lord Matlock's visit, and the number of times Richard tried to contact him. Lady Catherine frowned. "Did you hear that Richard and Miss Weatherby married soon after you left Rosings? They have a daughter who was born early. Although my brother sent invitations, I did not attend the wedding or the baptism of the child. I did, however, send a gift for their daughter."

Darcy shook his head, "No, I had not heard, but I am not surprised. Richard sent numerous letters, but I destroyed them unopened." The elderly lady and the young gentleman sat for a long moment staring into the fire, their eyes flashing with each thought. They remained still until Lady Catherine cleared her throat. "I have made inquiries and have received a report concerning the Weatherby family, and also my brother. So far not much has been uncovered, and nothing leads to why your uncle tried to force a marriage between you and Miss Weatherby. Do you wish me to give you this information?" Darcy moved to the fireplace and poked at the logs until the fire could not get any hotter. He leaned against the mantle and ran his hands through his hair. "Do you have proof that the report is accurate?" "No, I do not, but I will eventually." "Do you trust your sources to uncover all? Is

there more information?" "There is more, much more I suspect, but it will take time to learn it all." He sighed. Is any of this worth knowing? What will it accomplish, other than to disturb me? Inhaling deeply, Darcy felt tightness in his chest as he thought about the depth of their deception. "Yes, please tell me all you know." Lady Catherine nodded and opened a journal she kept with her findings. "First, I have discovered that my brother is in debt from gambling. However, I still do not know to what extent. I have ordered my informants to pay particular attention to the amount and to whom he is indebted. We will eventually discover all." Darcy looked thoughtful. "That is interesting, but I am surprised that Lord Matlock would fall into that trap. His gambling must be recent." "Not as recent as you might think."

He raised an eyebrow and stood erect. Past meetings with his uncle flickered through his mind as he considered this new piece of the puzzle. He encouraged his aunt to continue with a nod of his head. "Yes, I believe his habit goes back several years." Darcy stared at his aunt in surprise. "I had no idea. I remember how he always warned us never to gamble. He said only fools wasted their money in gaming parlors." Lady Catherine looked up from her journal, "Yes, well, Wesley seems to have become a fool. Now, about the Weatherby family, there is a cloak of silence around them, but whatever the secret, I believe it pertains to Sir Malcolm's late wife. I have not been able to uncover what it is yet, but I will." "What else?" "Nothing I can prove, but word is that Sir Malcolm has been involved in illegal

activities for many years." Darcy stood and walked to the window. He stared out into the darkness, twisting his signet ring. "That would explain the vast wealth Sir Malcolm has accumulated, but this does not tell us what we wish to know. How good are your informants?" Lady Catherine laughed. "Very good! If anyone can uncover the truth, it will be them. Now, since I have no more information, shall we discuss the work that needs to be done here at Rosings?" **~~** Over the next two years, Darcy and Lady Catherine grew even closer. She had once been dictatorial, ordering everyone about, and unpleasant to be around. Since the death of her daughter Anne, she had become softer in her tone, and generous in her love for him. She had aged, however, and he was concerned about her living alone at Rosings. "Aunt, it would ease my mind if you visited

Georgiana and me at Pemberley. Please say you will go back with us." She laughed and assured him she would be fine. "I wish to remain independent as long as possible; besides, I have my dear Mrs. Connor, and she is the best companion. I will be spending each season in Town where I have many good friends still living and..." Catherine leaned forward and winked her eye. "I must admit to enjoying a social life in London again." Chuckling at her nephew's reddening face she leaned back in her chair. "Besides, I get my reports quicker when I am there. So, thank you, but I shall not go with you at this time." Knowing his aunt could be stubborn once she made a decision, he did not press her again. **~~** Darcy continued working to become a better man. He was taking an interest in everyone working at Pemberley, which in turn made him a better master. Seeing people in a new

light, he realized they only wanted what he did; to be respected and valued for who they were, to make a decent living for their families, and to live with dignity. As for his social life, there were times when he found himself in high spirits at the conclusion of a dinner party or ball. His neighbors still considered him an excellent match for their unmarried daughters; however, he no longer believed they were mercenary in nature, but concerned with the welfare of their children. He had some of the same thoughts about his sister. He hoped she would do well in marriage, as he did not want her to suffer in any way. Darcy had not only spent many hours thinking of his behavior and Richard's, but also those of his former childhood friend, George Wickham. After Darcy's father died, Wickham had tried to rob him and kidnap his sister, and then later Richard had plotted to kill him. Try as he might, he could think of nothing he could have done differently with the two men. The primary motive for their behavior toward him appeared to be

jealously. If that was true, there was nothing Darcy could do about the situation. He was not responsible for his birth or theirs. Shortly after returning to Pemberley, Darcy had sat up late one night sipping brandy, as his mind replayed over and over everything that had happened at Rosings. Strong feelings of bitterness threatened to overwhelm him, and he had asked himself if there was any point in continuing to live. With the exception of Georgiana and Lady Catherine, he had lost everyone he loved, and his life had been miserable for many years. Asking himself if he was afraid of dying, he had looked down into the darkness of his soul and knew he had to live. He could not leave Georgiana before she was married and settled in her own home. The risk of her falling prey to the clutches of Richard or Lord Matlock was too great. **~~** In the latter part of September, two and a half years after seeking solace at Pemberley, Darcy made plans for his and Georgiana's

return to London. His sister, who had turned sixteen in July, needed to rejoin society before her presentation at court and her coming out. He also missed his friends, especially Charles Bingley. He had met Bingley at Cambridge, and over the years they had become best friends. Theirs was an unlikely friendship as Bingley was a most amiable and social man, while Darcy was well known for his quietness and dislike of social events. Before leaving Pemberley, Darcy had stood at the window in his study gazing not in the yard, but at the reflection of himself. He had added muscles and a few pounds to his body, and had the appearance of a mature man. His face did not completely hide the past, but the shine in his eyes had returned and the deep furrows on his forehead had long since disappeared. He traced the figure with his finger as he thought about his return to a place where he never really fit. Georgiana was not the only reason to head off to London. The time had arrived to search for a wife. He longed for laughter and

the footsteps of children to fill his home. After his brush with Miss Weatherby, however, he vowed to only marry a woman he could love and respect; one who would love him in return and be faithful. Surely there is such a woman out there. If I cannot find her in London, then I will look elsewhere. She does not need to possess a great dowry nor have superior connections; however, she must be a gentleman's daughter. I cannot trust Pemberley to anyone less than that. He mulled over how best to approach a lady. He recognized his reticence could be an obstacle, but he had overcome a great deal and now felt more at ease in public. He admitted he still maintained an aloof manner among strangers, but he had worked hard to improve in that regard as well. He certainly was not anti-social anymore. Bingley will be my guide. Everyone finds him to be the most amiable of men. As for having a superior attitude and appearing arrogant, he wondered if those

offenses could still be leveled at him. In truth, he was proud of his heritage, his name and his majestic Pemberley, and he supposed this pride could lead to those accusations. Through his inner reflections, he had come to realize that he had indeed looked down on others not of his wealth and social status. Hopefully, this was also an area in which he had improved. Darcy stood tall and glared at the man glaring back at him in his reflection. His image seemed to challenge him on his sense of pride. Prideful? I have tried to be a kind and compassionate man who takes good care of my tenants, employees, and family and friends, and I feel some success is mine. I have taken care to perform acts of kindness for people I did not know, when word of their needs reached me. I may not boast of my good deeds as others do, as I prefer to remain in the background. I am intelligent, love a good debate, and I control my urge to be overbearing in my opinions. So yes, I am prideful when it comes to my character, but

as long as I do not flaunt my strengths to those I come in contact with, I cannot be deemed full of pride. Darcy paused for a moment as he continued to stare out the window, but then he began speaking aloud. "I know I am sought after by every unmarried woman in London and Derbyshire. I was aloof only because I narrowly missed being compromised more than once, and it was what I hoped would keep the matchmaking mothers away. I was wrong to act so. Nothing will stop a mercenary mother or daughter." He stared intently at the reflection, this time examining the outward appearance of his image. "I am not vain." Then he chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, perhaps a little!" **~~** Darcy and Georgiana arrived in London within the week. The day after their arrival, Darcy had lunch at White's, where his appearance announced he was back in Town

and available for social events. Success came within a few days; he had accepted an invitation to a ball hosted by Lord and Lady Handley. He would practice his friendlier manner with the young ladies; and for Georgiana's sake, he also decided to renew old contacts and friends. CHAPTER 5 Darcy saw his long time friend as soon as he entered the Handley ballroom and hurried to him. "Bingley!" Looking toward the sound of his name, Charles Bingley spied his friend coming toward him and immediately smiled, meeting Darcy halfway where they bowed to each other. Bingley led Darcy over to an unattended corner. "Darcy, where have you been? Why have you not answered my letters?" He looked at his friend carefully, "You certainly look healthy and fit," he exclaimed.

"Yes, I am feeling quite well. I have been working hard at Pemberley this past two and a half years, and have not been in Town until now." "Yes, I know! I have not seen or heard from you during that time. Your cousin called at my house not long after you left for Pemberley to inform me of his marriage. He asked about you, and said you had lost touch with each other. I thought it all very strange, but I did not question him." Holding his breath, Bingley waited for an explanation. Darcy's body tensed as soon as Bingley mentioned Richard. "What did you tell him?" "There was nothing I could say, except that I heard you had gone back to Pemberley, and you had not answered my letters." Bingley hesitated, but then lowered his voice. "He married Miss Weatherby, Darcy, and their daughter was born rather early. I had heard that you were calling on her, and I could not help but be curious about what happened. There was gossip about them for a while, but

it has died down now." Darcy, ignoring what Bingley had just told him, forced his voice to sound neutral as he asked, "What have you been doing with yourself?" "Oh, Darcy, I have such news! But let us not speak of that now. May I call on you tomorrow? I will tell you everything then." "Certainly, I look forward to your visit." For the rest of the evening, Darcy circulated throughout the room. Two other friends from Cambridge, John Lexston and David Fitzpatrick, were there and he spent a good deal of time talking with them. Later, he danced with several of the ladies, but he was careful to dance only once with each. Who he danced with was unimportant to him. He was not attracted to any of them, but he thought this was as good a time as any to hone his new skills in appearing more sociable.

He was amused, and surprised, to see that Bingley was not dancing. This is unusual; my friend loves to dance, so why is he not dancing tonight? Perhaps he has changed as I have. Has he fallen in love with a new lady? If so, where is she? For as long as I have known him, Bingley has fallen in and out of love more times than I can count. I tease him by calling each one an angel whenever Bingley admits to discovering a new heavenly creature in a ballroom. He watched as his friend strolled around the room, speaking with various friends and acquaintances. Knowing Bingley, Darcy was certain his friend would bring him up-to-date when they met on the morrow. As Darcy pondered his friend's current social situation, he was unaware that a woman he did not wish to see had moved up behind him. "Mr. Darcy, you are almost a stranger in London. Where have you been for over two years, sir? I know you did not marry, for I would have heard of her." Miss Alissa

Simpson looked up at Darcy with a sly, flirting look on her face. Darcy felt his aloofness return as soon as she spoke. Aside from being one of Miss Weatherby's friends, Miss Simpson would have had him in a compromising position before he knew what was happening. She had tried it once before, and he was very cautious around her now. "Miss Simpson." Darcy bowed as she curtsied. "I hope you and your family are well." She moved closer. "Quite well, Mr. Darcy, but you did not answer my question. Were you hiding out at Pemberley, or perhaps you were visiting the continent?" Darcy knew she was referring to whatever gossip Miss Weatherby had told her. He was tempted to walk away without answering. Instead, he said, "I was not on the continent, and I have no reason to hide, Madam! Now if you will excuse me." Darcy bowed again and attempted to turn away when she

grasped his arm. "Wait, Mr. Darcy!" He removed her hand from his arm and waited. Her smile was almost a sneer. "What a pity that my good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam, are out of town. I know you must be devastated that you missed seeing them." "On the contrary, Madam, the devastation is all yours." He gave a small bow and turned away from her, joining a group of men talking politics. Thankfully, she did not approach him again. That night as he lay in bed, he realized, aside from Miss Simpson, he had enjoyed himself that evening. Because he had forced himself to be sociable while at Pemberley, rejoining society in London had not been as intolerable as he had feared. Most of all, he had greatly enjoyed being with his friends again. He still felt a sharp pain when Richard was mentioned, and suspected he would not overcome the feeling of betrayal easily or

quickly. While in London, he expected to be thrown into the company of Richard on occasion. He had decided that if they were attending the same event and Richard did not seek him out, he would stay. However, if Richard dared to approach him, he would leave immediately. He did not care if tongues wagged. He would be careful which social events he accepted, and if he could, he would avoid any opportunity for a scene. Not unexpected, Richard had begun calling on him as soon as word spread that Darcy was in Town, but the answer was always the same, the master was not home to callers. He longed for the day Richard would give up his pursuit, for he wanted no contact with him. He was thankful that none of the Fitzwilliams had been at the Handley ball. Pushing aside all thoughts of Richard, Darcy felt a tingle of excitement, and wondered what it meant. He had a feeling that something good was about to happen. Whatever it was, he would welcome it.

There had been too much sadness in his life. It was time for a change. **~~** Darcy was in his study the following afternoon when Bingley was announced. The two men bowed, and Darcy poured them both a brandy. "Now, old friend," Darcy said smiling, "what news do you have for me?" Bingley's own smile grew wider as he began to speak. "I have leased an estate in Hertfordshire called Netherfield Park, and I have met the angel I will marry. I have asked her father for his consent, and he has granted it." His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Bingley had had many angels in his past, but he never expressed a desire to marry any of them. Darcy settled back in his chair. "So that is why you did not dance last night. Tell me about this angel of yours," he urged.

"Oh, she is beautiful, with eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day. She has blonde hair, of course." Both men laughed as Bingley had always shown a weakness for fair-haired ladies. "I am inviting you to visit and provide assistance. I need help in learning how to manage an estate, and you are the best of men in that regard. I would like to yield a larger profit." "How much does it yield now?" "Two thousand annually and the house is in good condition. I return to Netherfield in a week and I hope that you will accompany me. My sisters and Hurst are there, and I know they will be pleased to see you." A frown appeared on Darcy's face. "Miss Bingley is there?" Bingley shrugged, "I am sorry, Darcy, I know you do not like her, but what am I to do? She is my sister and under my protection." "Forgive me, I do not wish to be unkind. I

had hoped your sister would be married by this time, and her attentions no longer focused on me. Perhaps she has forgotten about wanting to marry me?" Bingley shrugged again and sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair. "I do not know how she feels now. I will tell her, once again, not to force herself on you. Please say you will come." "I am interested in seeing your estate. I truly do not mean to be unkind about your sister, my friend, but I am serious about this. I must warn you now that regardless of what she may do, I will not be forced or compromised into an unwanted marriage. That needs to be clearly understood. If she does anything foolish, it will be at her own risk." "I will do my best, and I promise to keep my eye on her while you are visiting. I have done everything within my power to marry her off these past two years, but it seems no one wants her." Bingley raised his eyebrows, and attempted to control a smile. "I wonder why!"

There was a brief silence, and then both men began to chuckle. **~~** The evening was much like many others. After dinner, Georgiana provided a private musical concert for her brother, but this night she failed to succeed even with the simplest tune, and missed note after missed note rang in the air. Darcy struggled to conceal his grimace, but when Georgiana banged the keys with all ten fingers and created a burst of discordant sounds, his jaw dropped and his brows shot up. "Why cannot you take me with you?" She glared at him. He rose from his chair, moved to her side and gently squeezed her hand. "I do not wish for you to be taxed by some members of the Bingley family. I had hoped you would understand." "Fitzwilliam, I have grown used to being

with you, and now you tell me you are going to Hertfordshire alone." He caught sight of tears in his sister's eyes, and he felt a deep sense of guilt. "Georgiana, I do not know how long I will stay. Bingley and I will be busy with his estate, and I thought you would not wish to be forced into spending so much time with... must I say her name?" "It is true I do not care for Miss Bingley," she said with a grimace. "But I will miss you and be lonely here by myself." He hugged Georgiana and kissed her forehead. "If I stay beyond a month, I promise to return and bring you to Netherfield Park. How will that be? In the meantime, you can work with your music master again." "I suppose that will be tolerable." She wiped away her tears with the palm of her hand and sniffed. Darcy handed her a handkerchief and rubbed

her back. "I will miss your playing; although, if you do not improve after tonight I will have to fire your master." "Oh, Brother, let me show you how proficient I am." Georgiana giggled, and then played his favorite selections perfectly. After she retired for the night, Darcy sat in his study thinking about his upcoming journey, and he wondered about the little parish of Meryton. He had decided to take his black stallion, Zeus. He and Bingley would be riding over Netherfield's property, and Bingley was notorious for having slower horses than Darcy liked. He was managing his own life now with no help from others. He had tried living his family's way, and it had turned into a disaster. This time he was making his own decisions. He would go to Hertfordshire and be friendly with the people he met. He smiled as he thought, Perhaps I might even find an angel of my own. So it was that on a beautiful day in early

October, Darcy left London with Bingley, and they made their way to Netherfield. He could not know, but this visit would change his life. **~~** Netherfield Park, October 1811 The morning after arriving in Hertfordshire, Darcy arose before daylight and made his way to the stables. The moon was bright enough that he had no trouble finding his way. As soon as he walked inside, a stable hand ran up, still tucking his shirt in his pants. "Good morning, sir! Are you riding this morning?" Darcy surprised the young man by bowing. No gentleman had ever bowed to him before, and he took an immediate liking to him. "Yes, the black stallion is mine." "He is a beautiful horse, sir, and it will be a pleasure to ready him for you. I will be only a few moments."

"Thank you." The young man was as fast as his word, and soon Darcy set off in a trot. Since the moon was very bright, he gave the horse his lead and began cantering down the road, which soon turned into a gallop. After a vigorous ride he turned off the road, looking for a place to watch the sunrise. It was not long before he came to a hill. He decided the top would be a good place to watch it, and would also provide a good view of the country side. As he came to the top, he realized he had startled a young woman. She was standing in a state of alarm with one hand held to her chest, and one to her mouth. He spoke quickly, "I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, madam, and I mean you no harm. I am visiting my friend Charles Bingley of Netherfield Park." "Oh, sir, you startled me. I have never seen anyone here this early in the morning." "I came to watch the sunrise, but I will not stay if my presence makes you uneasy. If

you wish, I will leave." "Oh, no, that will not be necessary." He noticed that she looked at him carefully. Perhaps she took into consideration that he was dressed as a gentleman, and that he was Mr. Bingley's friend. At last she nodded once, and then smiled as she introduced herself. "My name is Elizabeth Bennet and my sister, Jane, is engaged to Mr. Bingley. You are welcome to stay and watch the sunrise with me, if you wish." Darcy dismounted and tied the horse's reins to a small tree. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I would like that very much." They sat on a large, flat rock and watched the soft colors of the morning flow across the sky. She had removed her bonnet before he appeared, enabling Darcy to sneak glances at her face. He was fascinated by the dancing light in her eyes. "Beautiful," Elizabeth said, her face glowing.

"Yes, very beautiful." Darcy found it difficult to divert his eyes from her face. He realized that he spoke not of the sky, since he had not seen the sunrise, but of the beauty and vivaciousness of this young gentlewoman named Elizabeth Bennet. She turned to him with a smile on her lips, and eyes that sparkled. "So you are Mr. Bingley's friend. He is a pleasant man, and I look forward to the day I may call him brother." "Bingley is perhaps the most amiable man I have ever known. Everywhere he goes he makes friends easily and quickly." Elizabeth teased, "And you, sir, do you also make friends as easily as does Mr. Bingley?" Darcy gave a short laugh. "I am afraid not, Miss Bennet. I have always had problems conversing with strangers, and often give them the wrong impression. Bingley says I have a talent for being offensive to everyone I meet." He laughed again, this time more easily. "I promise, however, to be friendly

and not offend anyone while I am in Hertfordshire." Elizabeth did not laugh as he had expected. Instead, her eyes gazed into his with an intensity he found mesmerizing. "I do not think you are a bit offensive, Mr. Darcy. You seem very nice to me." "In truth, I am uneasy amongst strangers, Miss Bennet. Most people do not take the trouble to discover that. I am amazed at my ability to speak to you. Now, as for my being nice," he shrugged. "That is not for me to say, although I hope that I am." To his dismay, Elizabeth stood. He watched as she dusted off her gown with her hands. "I am sorry to be leaving, sir. I have enjoyed my time with you, but we expect a visitor today and I must help my mother. Perhaps I will see you again?" Darcy had stood with her. "Do you often come here in the mornings? If so, may I join you tomorrow?"

She smiled as she spoke. "I am here every morning, weather permitting, and... yes... I would be happy to share my sunrises with you." He returned her smile and bowed, "Until tomorrow morning then." Darcy rode back to Netherfield, aware that his skin tingled in a way he had never experienced. The moment he saw her he had felt an attraction, and this morning he craved to touch her skin and discover if it too shivered as his did. He wanted her, but vowed not to rush into anything. He must ensure that he loved her and she returned his affections, before going beyond friendship. Trust was a high priority. Bingley had told him that the Bennets had neither wealth nor connections, but that was not a concern for him. Perhaps in the past it was, but now he desired something less tangible. He wanted to be loved for himself. It was his choice to connect himself with people of no consequence. Georgiana was the only member of his family who mattered,

and even from this briefest of meetings, he believed she would like Miss Elizabeth Bennet. **~~** Elizabeth returned to Longbourn, her thoughts focused on the handsome gentleman she had met that morning, and his promise of their meeting on the morrow. He would surely visit Longbourn with Mr. Bingley, perhaps even today! She skipped towards her home. Oh, Jane. Mr. Bingley is nothing to this man. Perhaps...! Noises of arguing, as well as her mother's shrill voice, greeted Elizabeth as she stepped inside the breakfast room. Her father had rolled his eyes, which she responded to him by lifting her right brow. They shared their almost invisible smiles. Her younger sisters, Kitty and Lydia, argued over a bonnet while her mother vented her feelings about their impending visitor, Mr. William Collins. He was their cousin and would be visiting them for a fortnight.

That Longbourn was entailed to Mr. Collins caused great distress to Mrs. Bennet. She feared being thrown out of her home into poverty upon the death of her husband. Thus, to her children's dismay, she searched passionately for suitable husbands for her five daughters. Mrs. Bennet was grateful that Jane was engaged to Mr. Bingley; the other daughters were grateful too, as this reduced the pressure for them to make prudent matches. Oh, where is Jane? I must ask her to obtain some information from Mr. Bingley about his guest. **~~** Breakfast at Netherfield was less noisy, but it was irritating to Darcy. He had hoped to break his fast quietly, but Miss Bingley had other ideas. While he poured his first cup of coffee, she snuck up behind him. Using what she thought was a seductive voice she attempted to purr in his ear, "Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I trust you slept well?"

He had not heard her approach, and when he whirled around in surprise, he accidently spilled coffee on the upper portion of Miss Bingley's gown. True, the coffee was hot, but as she screamed, Miss Bingley immediately saw this as an opportunity to touch Darcy. She wrapped her arm around his and leaned into his side. "Oh, Mr. Darcy," she whimpered, "I know you did not mean to spill hot coffee on me, but I am in great pain. I fear I cannot manage the stairs alone. Will you help me, please?" Miss Bingley waited for him to wrap his arm around her as they traversed the stairs. "I may need help to my chair there." Charles Bingley walked into the room as Darcy reached for the cord to ring for a servant. He spied the frown on Darcy's face, and then noted the gleeful look on Caroline's. Grabbing his sister's arm, he pulled her away from his friend. "Caroline, what has happened? Allow me to escort you to your room so you may change your gown."

Miss Bingley spoke sharply to her brother, "I am capable of going alone, Charles. I do not need your help." She darted through the door before he could catch her hand. "What just happened here?" Bingley turned to Darcy, a furrowed brow and frown appeared on his face. Darcy refilled his cup, sighed, and returned to his seat. "We bumped when I turned around and I spilled coffee on her dress. She wanted me to help her to her chamber, with my arm around her, of course. This is the very thing I hoped to avoid while I was here. I may need to remove myself to an inn or travel back to Town." "I will speak to her immediately," Bingley stated with a grim voice. He disappeared through the door and hurried to his sister's chambers. Pounding angrily on her door, his other sister, Louisa Hurst, cracked it open. When she determined her brother was alone, she slipped out into the hallway and joined him.

"Louisa, I wish to speak with Caroline without delay. Darcy is threatening to leave because of her behavior. I prefer sending her to Scotland, rather than have him leave." "Charles, I have spoken with Caroline until I am hoarse. She refuses to believe that her behavior offends Mr. Darcy. Perhaps you will have better success with her." Mrs. Hurst stepped away from the door, as Bingley went through it. Caroline spied her brother's furrowed brow. Her neck muscles tensed and her eyelids narrowed. "Charles, why are you in my chambers? Have you not done enough to me?" She stood as tall as she was able, held her chin high and gazed down at her younger brother. He rose to his full height, surprising her that he had several inches over her. "Caroline, your behavior is driving Darcy away." His voice remained steady, but he spoke in a tone lower than she had ever heard before. "I will send you to Scotland to stay with our aunt until Darcy's visit is over

if you do not comport yourself as a lady. He says he will either move to an inn, or go back to Town if you do not stop pursuing him." She waved her hand in the air as if to swat away a fly. "I do not believe Mr. Darcy will take such actions. You must have misunderstood him." "No, I did not! Darcy does not care for you. He sought no contact with you for over two years, which plainly says he has no regard for you? Why can you not accept the simple truth? He will not marry you regardless of what you do. I tell you now, Sister, that if you put him in a compromising position I will not support you. I will send you away instead, and you will not have a place in my home, nor any additional funds. You will be forced to live on your dowry, and each year your chances of finding a suitable husband will dissipate." Miss Bingley stood with her mouth agape. "You would not bar me from my own home!"

"Yes, I would, so do not try me. Your behavior is shameful, and sometimes I am embarrassed to call you my sister." Shocked to hear this condemnation from her brother, and not wishing to be banished to Scotland, she agreed. But as her brother shut the door behind him, she whispered, "That does not mean Mr. Darcy must stay away from me! I will find a way."

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Betrayal
Part II
CHAPTER 6 If you are visiting your fiance today, I would like to join you and meet Miss Bennet and her family." Darcy did his best to keep his features neutral, although he could not conceal his impatience to see Elizabeth again. Bingley's face lit up, his usual grin stretched into a large smile. "I plan to visit this morning. You are welcome to come with me." His expression changed into a frown and his voice sounded solemn. "I must warn you that Mrs. Bennet is perhaps a little too eager to promote her daughters to suitable men. I know how you feel about that sort of

thing." "Do not be concerned, my friend. Perhaps I have learned how to endure the Mrs. Bennets of the world." Darcy patted Bingley's back. "I have trouble believing that, but I am curious to see how you respond to her. Mrs. Bennet hinted of marriage almost as soon as I met Jane, and she was formidable." "I have been acquainted with many such mothers." Bingley shrugged, "We will leave for Longbourn as soon as you change clothes. Wear your poorest outfit, and do not complain to me later that you were not warned." During their ride to Longbourn, his eyes focused on the scenery passing by, Darcy interrupted the silence. "Did not you say Miss Bennet has sisters?" "Yes, Miss Elizabeth is next in age to her at nineteen, and she has three others even

younger. Mrs. Bennet may push you toward Miss Lydia, though she is only fourteen and not yet out. Miss Lydia is her favorite, but she is loud and coarse. I do not think you would like her. One wrong word from you and her mother will push her into your society." "What word?" "Any encouraging word!" Bingley laughed "Good Lord, Bingley, she is but a mere child. I wish to meet someone older, such as Miss Elizabeth. You say she is refined?" "And pretty!" "Um, well, nineteen is an acceptable age. Perhaps you could suggest a walk where she and I could chaperone you and Miss Bennet." "That is an excellent idea, and the moment I mention it Mrs. Bennet will push us out the door."

Darcy did not speak, but inwardly he smiled. He wondered what Miss Elizabeth would think about seeing him twice in one day. Upon their arrival at Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet fluttered around Bingley and made a great fuss over him, until she turned her eyes on his companion. "And you, sir, as Mr. Bingley's friend you are most welcome in our home." Grimacing, Bingley stepped forward quickly. "Mrs. Bennet, I would like to introduce my friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire." Once the proper civilities were completed, he moved quickly to Jane's side, forgetting to mention the walk. Darcy ignored the calculating look in Mrs. Bennet's eyes, bowed and then searched the room until he spotted Elizabeth sitting at a table with needlework in her hands. Her face appeared flushed with a pink color rising on her cheeks. She lowered her head and pushed the needle through the cloth several times, once jabbing her fingers. Back in

control of her reactions, her eyes darted from him to her mother and then back to him. Her blush began to rise again. He offered her a slight, comforting smile, and then through the corner of his eye caught sight of Mrs. Bennet eying him with an obvious scheming appearance. Perhaps she thinks she might have the pleasure of seeing two daughters married soon. Darcy bowed his head to the woman. Perhaps she is correct. "Please sit here by my daughter, Elizabeth. Lizzy, put away your sewing and talk with Mr. Darcy. We must make our guest feel welcome. You are a bright girl and know all sorts of subjects." Elizabeth's face flushed deeper, but she only said, "Yes, Mama." She studied her hands lying calmly in her lap, but she would not look at him. Frantically, he searched his mind for something to say that would put her at ease. "Miss Elizabeth, are you a lover of the outdoors?"

"Oh, yes," she said in a low voice, darting her eyes to Jane and Bingley. "Perhaps you might consent to tell me of your favorite walking trails. My estate in Derbyshire has many beautiful paths. My sister and I often walk out in the evenings." Her eyes brightened as she turned her gaze on him. "Do you enjoy walking, sir?" "Oh, yes," he said. "I find it most refreshing. When I have a problem to work out, a walk will usually clear my mind and help me in finding a solution." Mrs. Bennet seized on the possible opportunity that lay before her. "Oh, Mr. Darcy, our Lizzy is a great walker! I am certain she would be happy to show you her favorite walking trails. Would you not, Lizzy?" "Yes, Mama." Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, while she tried to hold back the slight curl arising in the corner of her mouth.

"It is settled then," she said. "Jane, you and Mr. Bingley must go for a walk and take Mr. Darcy and Lizzy with you. Lizzy will be a great help in showing you all the best places." The four of them rose and left the room, the men to wait in the foyer while the ladies went to fetch their outerwear. As it was October and a chill had settled in the air, Jane and Elizabeth appeared with their shawls, bonnets, and gloves and the two couples left the house. Elizabeth sneaked peeks at him from the corner of her eyes, although none of which were quite concealed by her long, thick eyelashes. Darcy held out his arm for her to take, and when she did not hesitate he leaned down and asked in a lowered voice, "Where will you take us today, Miss Elizabeth?" When she looked up at him with a captivating, teasing smile on her lips, he felt his throat tighten and the hair on his neck tingle. "I thought we could walk to Oakham Mount, Mr. Darcy. I often go there in the mornings to watch the sunrise."

Do you now?" he teased, releasing a full smile as he peered down at her. "Sunrise is one of my favorite times of the day." "Yes, sir, I go there every morning, weather permitting. I have the utmost confidence that you will agree it is a perfect spot and..." She glanced up sideways at him with her right brow raised, and a small smile forming. "And... especially at sunrise." "I am sure that I will soon discover the truth to your words, Miss Elizabeth." Darcy whispered, "Tomorrow, perhaps, if it does not rain." She nodded her head. After walking a while in silence and keeping a few steps behind Jane and Bingley, Elizabeth said quietly, "Please forgive my mother's behavior, Mr. Darcy. She means well and we are used to her, but strangers..." Darcy interrupted, "If your mother had not suggested our walking out, Bingley was

going to and I would have supported him." At the mention of Bingley's name, Elizabeth grinned, causing his heart to suddenly beat faster. "Mr. Bingley does seem to enjoy walking with my sister, but they usually stay within our gardens." "Then your sister is not a great walker, as you are?" No, sir, she is not, although she does enjoy the outdoors." They continued walking, but again in silence. While Darcy did not feel awkward, he struggled to find a topic to discuss, and was relieved when Elizabeth finally spoke. "Tell me about the grounds at your estate in Derbyshire." Darcy was always happy to talk about Pemberley. "My mother was responsible for the current layout of the grounds. Roses were her particular favorites, and she planted many varieties. There are other flower

gardens throughout, some of which she planted herself, and we grow our own vegetables. Most of the grounds are natural with wildflowers, and many of the trees have been there for generations." "We have old trees as well, but as you see they are provided by nature. I do not believe anyone here has ever felt the need to plant a new one." Their eyes took in the sight of the tall oaks along the path. "Our family has always had a tradition of either planting a new tree, or a flowering bush, each time there is a new Mistress of Pemberley, as well as each time a new child is born. There are many varieties of Butterfly bushes, Forsythia, Hydrangea and Lilac, to name only a few. It is a riot of colors in the spring and summer." "Pemberley is the name of your estate?" Darcy nodded, "Yes, it is a beautiful place. Whenever I return home, I stop in one special location situated perfectly to view the house and grounds. It has been my home all

my life, but I never tire of that first glimpse." "It is plain that you love your home. Now, sir, what about those walking trails?" Darcy's face had taken on a glow as he spoke, "There are many, but one of my favorite is around the pond in front of the house. The circumference is lined with a multitude of wild flowers and reeds, and there is an arched, wooden bridge one can cross to complete the walk. I often stand there watching the ducks and swans swimming around." "It does, indeed, sound very beautiful, as well as peaceful," Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, it is." Darcy pulled his arm toward his body, causing her to move closer to him. He spoke in a half-whisper, "I believe you would like it, but... it waits for a woman's touch." Does she realize of what I am implying? Elizabeth appeared slightly startled at his words, and hesitated for a moment, "I am

sure I would find your home all that is beautiful, merely from your description." She is startled and uncertain of what I meant. Slow down, Darcy, you have only just met her. Remember, you are going to take it slowly. Jane and Bingley had turned around toward them, so they waited to walk back to Longbourn together. As they entered into the house, Mrs. Bennet was waiting at the door. "Would you gentlemen honor us with your presence at lunch?" A large smile appeared on her face when the men accepted. During the light meal, Darcy put forth an effort to be friendly, his manner surprising not only Bingley but himself as well. He was not as amicable and open as his friend, but he was not silent and withdrawn either. Mrs. Bennet appeared happy with his compliments on the meal, while Mr. Bennet received a number of answers about Derbyshire, and was disposed to invite the young men to his study for a glass of port.

Upon entering the study, Darcy was taken aback by the strict masculinity of the room, which was filled with a musky scent. There were larger sized chairs, a substantial desk littered with papers, and a sideboard holding carafes of port, wine and brandy. Darcy spied the large quantity of books overflowing on the many bookcases, and as he browsed through the titles, he was impressed to see many of the same books that were in his own library. "You are a reader, sir?" Mr. Bennet had come up aside Darcy, and handed him a glass filled to the top. Darcy sipped the port, surprised by the quality. "I am, indeed. Both my library in London and at Pemberley are the work of many generations. I have spent numerous hours searching for rare, first editions." Bingley chose to sit quietly, while looking out the window in the hope that his fiance would appear outside. Talks of books did not long hold his attention.

With Bingley engaged in his own thoughts, the other two men entered into a discussion of Greek versus Roman superiority in establishing the modern world, before they moved the discussion into a small disagreement on the usefulness of farming techniques. Darcy preferred the new methods, while Mr. Bennet clung to the tried and true. The two men shared several more glasses. Darcy enjoyed the company of Mr. Bennet so much that when invited to return for a game of chess the following day, he did not hesitate to accept; although, not before he had admire the sunrise from Oakham Mount. Mr. Bennet chuckled quietly each time he caught Bingley sneaking peeks at the door or out the window. Bingley had merely added a few sighs, while pretending to listen to his future father-in-law and his closest friend engage in conversation. He neither wished to be included nor was he able to contribute. His mind remained on Jane, and his eyes now focused on the door leading to his only interest.

Mr. Bennet reluctantly permitted the men to take their leave; he recognized that an old man did not possess the charm of two beautiful daughters. Jane and Elizabeth walked Darcy and Bingley outside as they were leaving. Darcy, wishing to give his friend a moment of privacy, led Elizabeth a short distance away. When they were alone, Elizabeth asked if he planned to attend the up-coming Meryton Assembly. "Bingley has mentioned it, and I feel comfortable saying we will be there. My friend loves nothing better than a dance. Will you be attending?" "Yes, Jane, Mary and I will come with our mother. Papa will stay home with Kitty and Lydia as they are too young to be out." "Then will you do me the honor of saving the first set for me?" He held his breath while awaiting her answer. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she

smiled. "The honor will be mine, Mr. Darcy." He let go of his breath in relief. **~~**

Mr. William Collins, Mr. Bennet's cousin, arrived later that afternoon at four o'clock, precisely the time he had stated in his letter. After dinner, he asked for a private meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. When they were seated in Mr. Bennet's study, they were surprised when Mr. Collins let it be known he had chosen one of their daughters to be his wife. "I understand Miss Bennet is engaged to be married, so I am delighted to inform you that I have chosen Miss Elizabeth to be the companion of my future life. I am certain there will be no objections, for my position as the honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh's pastor recommends me highly. She has bestowed upon me a delightful home with several servants, and my salary of four hundred pounds a year is a generous amount for two people. Of course, I will still expect

Miss Elizabeth to be frugal." Mrs. Bennet could hardly believe his audacity. "Sir, my daughter, Elizabeth, is not available. She is being courted by Mr. Darcy." She was hoping her husband would not contradict her, but she should not have worried. Mr. Bennet was not at all impressed with his cousin, and would not think of contradicting his wife. He looked upon Mr. Collins as being a ridiculous man, unfit to marry his favorite daughter. Even worst, he had noticed an unpleasant body odor about Mr. Collins' person. Instead, he hurried the man from his study, and immediately opened a window to let in badly needed fresh air. As Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins left the study, she offered to have hot water brought to his chamber. "After your journey in an open carriage, I feel certain a hot bath will be relaxing, and allow you to sleep well tonight." "Oh, my good lady, do not go to such trouble. Bathing too often is not healthy for one's skin, so I indulge only once a week."

"But, Mr. Collins, do you not wish to wash away the dust that surely settled on you while riding in an open carriage? No, I insist, hot water will be sent to your chamber immediately." Mr. Collins laughed, "My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is of the same opinion as you, and she insists I take a bath before visiting her. I would never insult her by not doing as she asks. She is a great lady, and it is an honor to have her as my patron. She is a little obsessed with cleanliness, though." Mr. Collins slapped his hands over his mouth when he realized, contrary to what he had just said, that he had, indeed, insulted his patron. He began to beg his cousin not to disclose his insult, but she interrupted him. Mrs. Bennet drew herself up as tall as possible, "Mr. Collins, in this household we bath often. Would you insult me by refusing to abide by the same rules of everyone else?" Mrs. Bennet had, by then, placed her hand lightly over her nose, and was relieved when

Mr. Collins agreed. Bowing and scraping, he quickly took great pains to reassure his hostess, "My dear cousin, I would never insult you or your hospitality. No, that would never do. I shall retire to my chamber now, and trust you will excuse my absence the rest of the evening. I am somewhat weary and will go to bed after my bath." "I look forward to seeing you when we break our fast on the morrow, sir. Goodnight." Mrs. Bennet then hurried to open the front door to let in some fresh air. There was one more Bennet girl not yet spoken for, so on the following day Mr. Collins made haste and turned his attentions to Mary Bennet. She, in turn, made haste to visit her father's study. "Please, Papa, do not make me marry my cousin. I do not love or respect him, nor do I ever expect to. He is a stupid man with a highly noticeable body odor. Even Mama agrees with me, and you know how

diligently she works to procure husbands for all her daughters." Her father decided not to tease his middle child; instead, he took pity on her. Mr. Collins happened to be passing by just as Mary left Mr. Bennet's study. Incorrectly assuming she had been seeking her father's approval for marriage to him, he stepped into Mr. Bennet's study. "My dear cousin, might I speak with you on a matter of great importance?" Mr. Bennet looked up, "Yes, of course. I was on my way to the garden for my daily walk. I would be honored if you joined me, sir." Mr. Collins had been certain Miss Mary would embrace him as her future husband. He had assured himself that since she was no beauty, Miss Mary would realize she might never receive another proposal. It was, therefore, difficult for him to accept Mr. Bennet's refusal. Although Mr. Collins was quite dejected

over losing out with three Bennet girls, he vowed to continue his quest. Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia were too young and loud, so he would simply have to look elsewhere for a bride. He had heard the women speak of an up-coming assembly, and Mr. Bennet had kindly suggested it was a good place for bride hunting. Mr. Collins accepted his suggestion, using his best flowery speech reserved for titled patrons. **~~**

That night, Darcy lay awake for hours thinking of Elizabeth Bennet. She was not a classic beauty as her sister Jane, but there was something about her he found even more attractive. He had never paid attention to blue-eyed blondes. They were more to Bingley's taste. Elizabeth's chestnut-colored hair and her sparkling, chocolate brown eyes held more appeal for him. Her mouth could be called pouty, when there was not a teasing smile there; and a sprinkling of freckles danced

across her nose. Most ladies go to great lengths to avoid the sun so their skin stays white, but I admire her healthy, bronzed skin demonstrating her delight in the outdoors. There seems to be no pretensions about her. The mere thought of her caused him to have an arousal. I ache to touch her skin, and kiss those pouty lips, and I long to run my fingers through her thick curls, and then claim her for my own. Oh, If I only knew her thoughts about me. **~~**

At Longbourn, Elizabeth also had trouble sleeping, as she thought about the tall, handsome man who had recently come into her life. From the first, she had wanted to run her fingers through his dark curls. She was fascinated with his neck, what she could see of it. She blushed when her thoughts strayed to what he might look like without the fussy cravat. The way he stared at her sent warm shivers up and down her body. The sight of his lips made her own lips burn,

as she imagined how it would feel to be kissed by him. She had never been kissed before. Mr. Darcy is different from any man I have known. He is a man of the world, and I should not dwell on him. He is too far above my station for me to hope he will go to father. Nonetheless, she sensed his interest in her, and could only hope he would not trifle with her affections. She had no experience with the ways of men, but she had heard stories of wealthy gentlemen and their seductions of women. They used them and then left, leaving the women to deal with the consequences. Elizabeth let out a deep sigh. She liked Mr. Darcy very much, and hoped he was not one of those gentlemen. Elizabeth was not one to dwell on the negative, however, and she laughed when her mind darted to Mr. Collins. He is such a ridiculous, foul smelling man. Thank heaven mama told Mr. Collins I am not available. At least, Mr. Darcy has saved me from him.

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was, Oh, if I only knew his thoughts about me. **~~**

Darcy stood atop Oakham Mount, listening for the slightest evidence he was not the only one standing in the darkness of the morning. Unable to sleep for fear of missing the sunrise, he awoke at four o'clock and refused to close his eyes again. He had rushed to the hilltop where he waited, and when the tiniest sliver of light appeared on the horizon, he frowned at the thought of viewing it alone. He turned toward the sound of the cracking of a twig. His breathing stopped as he beheld a vision of loveliness gracefully appearing at the top of the hill. Elizabeth! A large grin covered his face, and he did not try to suppress it. In the past, he had kept tight control over his emotions, but his life had changed when he heard his cousin describe him in the most unflattering terms. The words haunted him still and were never far

from his consciousness. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy! What a pleasure to see you," Elizabeth called out with her own wide smile. His heart began pounding when she spoke. Quickly, he stepped forward and bowed. "Good morning, Miss Bennet, the pleasure is mine. I hope you slept well." "I did, thank you. It seems I am just in time to see the sunrise. Shall we?" She swept her hand toward the rock they claimed as their own. Darcy was fascinated by the graceful movement of her hand, but then realized all her movements were poised and refined. They sat side by side with scarcely an inch between them, as the sun rose and soft colors once again flowed across the sky. Neither one spoke as they witnessed the colors of pink and orange surround the white and gray clouds. When the colors faded he heard her sigh happily, and then watched as she turned her face away from him. He feared she would return home until she said, "I have a

little extra time this morning, if you would care to walk a while." His heart fluttered. "I would like that very much, Miss Elizabeth." He rose and held his hand out to help her up. Her warm hand touched his, and he felt a shiver run up his arm. When she let go, his hand turned as cold as the water in his pond in the dead of winter. "Tell me, did your visitor arrive safely yesterday?" Darcy was curious about her visitor, and hoped it was only a relative, and in particular, a female relative. "Yes, our cousin, Mr. Collins, is here. He is the vicar at Hunsford in Kent, and was quite effusive about his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. So effusive, in truth, that he hardly spoke of anything else." She let out an exasperated sigh. Darcy looked at her and was amused by her expression. "You seem unimpressed with your cousin, and his patroness." "I do not know Lady Catherine, and should

not judge her on my cousin's words alone; but yes, I confess to being unimpressed with Mr. Collins, and I cannot help but wonder why any rational woman would hire him. He is not a clever man; in truth, he is quite stupid. Now, sir, do you think me unkind?" There was a teasing look in her eyes, and Darcy smiled to himself. "Indeed, I do not! Mr. Collins is unknown to me; however, I have been acquainted with Lady Catherine all my life. I suspect she would want a vicar who hung on her every word. I believe she would find him amusing." Darcy chuckled, and Elizabeth smirked while raising an eyebrow. "I seem to have amused you, Mr. Darcy. How do you know Lady Catherine? Is she your favorite aunt?" He laughed out loud at her impertinence. "Yes, she is my favorite, and she is my aunt." Elizabeth blushed a deep shade of pink, and turned her face away from his. Her voice

trembled as she spoke in a half-whisper. "Oh, sir, I am truly sorry to joke about her. I did not know you were related." She glanced sideways at him. "Will you forgive me?" "There is nothing to forgive. Lady Catherine is very... different; however, I am fond of her. Before her daughter died twelve years ago, she was quite dictatorial and unbearable, but as the years have passed she has mellowed. I think she is sometimes lonely, and perhaps even bored." The redness in her cheeks remained. Without thinking of propriety, Elizabeth placed her hand on Darcy's arm. They both gasped as a shock ran up their arms. For a moment, it was all he could do to control his desire to kiss her. He became aware that she was speaking, and brought his full attention back to her. "I am very sorry for her, sir. I cannot imagine what it would feel like to lose someone I loved." The brightness in his eyes disappeared, and his lips pressed together in a tight line. "Mr. Darcy, are you unwell?" Elizabeth asked.

"Did I say something to upset you?" Darcy shook himself, and then realized she was gazing at him in alarm, her hand on his arm, trembling. He placed his hand on top of her's and caressed it with a few simple strokes. "Please do not be distressed. I have lost both parents, but certain other events brought me additional pain." His words did nothing to relieve her distress. "Sir, I believe your pain is not that far in the past, for it is still hurtful to you. Would you like to tell me about it? I promise it will go no farther." He wanted to unburden himself to her, but he hesitated as he was not used to sharing his feelings. Richard had been the only person to whom he could open himself, and that had not turned out well. Nonetheless, he believed he could trust her, without a specific reason as to why. He began to pace in front of her, "I will not go into details, except to say that I was betrayed by three men... a childhood friend

and, more recently, by an uncle and a cousin who I had loved as a brother. One day soon I will tell you more about them, but I would rather not speak of it today." "Of course, I understand. Forgive me for intruding on your privacy." "You are not intruding, please believe me." He reached for her hand, and was pleased when she did not pull it back. They stood staring at each other, unable to look away. When she smiled he returned it, and on impulse he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. At that very moment, Darcy was as happy as he had ever been.

CHAPTER 7
"Matilda! Hill! John! Come quickly!" Mrs. Bennet screeched the second she entered the kitchen. "Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley will stay for dinner tonight. Matilda, we must serve at least three courses. Is there any fish or beef? If not, send the boy to fetch some

fresh meat. Do you know how to fix ragout? Simple stew will not do! These are gentlemen of the highest order. Quick! "Hill, fix the table. Thank heaven Mr. Collins is having dinner tonight with the vicar in Meryton. Oh, where did we hide the china and silverware? We cannot serve these gentlemen on our everyday table service. And our glassware and wine! John, fetch some of the best wine from the cellar." Mrs. Bennet placed her hands on her hips. "And do not go running off to ask Mr. Bennet's permission." **~~**

While Mrs. Bennet was scurrying around to present the best meal possible, Miss Bingley sat near a window at Netherfield all afternoon, waiting for her brother and his friend to return from Longbourn. She tapped her foot on the rug and then her fingers on the arm of the chair, until finally she marched into the dining room. "Serve the meal at once!"

The Hursts tried to initiate conversation, but Caroline ate in silence, shoveling the food into her mouth and gulping the wine. She kept the wine bottle by her plate, and ignored the Hurst's request to have it passed to them. Mr. Hurst sighed and sent a servant to the cellar for another bottle. Before dessert was served, Caroline had finished an entire bottle by herself, and had started on another. The servants were careful to stand outside of her direct line of sight, and served from behind her left side. They were relieved when she wiped her mouth, and threw the napkin down on her plate. "Do not save a single bite for anyone else residing in this house. Feed it to the hogs, I do not care! Mr. Bingley did not think it important enough to inform me he and Mr. Darcy were dining elsewhere." Caroline left the room in a huff. The Hursts, not wishing to witness their sister's reaction when the men arrived home, retired to their chambers early.

In the drawing room, where the sound of approaching visitors could be heard, Miss Bingley lay in wait for the men to return, ready to bolt to the entrance hall when they arrived. It was late when the carriage pulled up to the front of the house and the two men, happy for the moment, disembarked. The smiles on their faces lasted only until the doorman opened the door, and they spotted Miss Bingley with her jaws set and eyes boring into them. "Charles, what do you mean by not informing me you were having dinner at Longbourn? It was rude of you not to consider my feelings, as well as Mr. Darcy's. You subjected your friend to the Bennets all day, when he could have spent his time here with all the comforts of Netherfield Park. I had cook prepare his favorites for dinner, but you kept him away from the sumptuous feast. Instead, he was forced to eat poorly prepared food, and drink sour wine, with the most unsophisticated family in all of England."

Darcy had hoped to retire as soon as they returned, in order to avoid spending time in the presence of Miss Bingley, but when Bingley cast a pleading look his way, he did not have the heart to abandon his friend. With a gleam in his eyes, Darcy bowed slightly to the inconsolable, and slightly drunk, woman. "In truth, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Bennet had a delicious meal prepared for us. She served all of my favorite foods, and I noticed nothing unacceptable on the table. It was the finest of food and the heartiest of wine." Bingley led his sister into the parlor. Darcy followed and closed the door behind him, as Caroline staggered back and forth between him and her brother. She stopped and clasped her hands together, squeezing them in unison with the furrowing of her brow. Turning to Darcy she exclaimed, "Well, of course she served the best she was able to! I am certain she is anxious to force your attentions on that silly chit, Miss Eliza. I know what that woman is

up to, just as I know you made it clear you are not interested." "Ahem," Bingley exclaimed. Catching sight of her brother's stern countenance, Caroline took a deep breath, and said with the slightest hint of haughtiness in her tone, "When we first came to Netherfield, we were told of Miss Eliza's beauty, but I have never seen any beauty in that little country nobody. Sir William calls her eyes fine, but I see nothing fine about them." Miss Bingley glanced at Darcy from the corner of his eye, certain that he would agree with her, but upon spying his frown, she pushed him for a comment. "What do you think of Miss Eliza, sir?" "She is a beautiful woman, and I agree with Sir William that her eyes are very fine, indeed. Now if you will excuse me, I shall retire for the evening. Goodnight." Darcy left the parlor with a walk that left no one, except a somewhat befuddled Miss Bingley,

in doubt that he was relieved to be away from her. Sending her brother a piercing look of anger, she left the room not long after Darcy to plan her next attack, and to obtain a headache powder for the hangover that was taking possession of her body.< Darcy lay in bed that night, thinking of all that had happened in the short time he had been at Netherfield. He had hoped to meet a woman such as Elizabeth while visiting Bingley, but he had not expected to find her the day after his arrival. Is it possible to fall in love at first sight? When I am away from her, I can hardly wait to see her again. I do not even want to fight these feelings. Simply being in her company fills me with joy. She is different from any woman I have ever met, and thank God for that! **~~**

At Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane were in bed, but not asleep. Jane chatted about Mr. Bingley and her approaching wedding day, but soon realized Elizabeth was gazing off into space and not listening. She blew on the curl that had fallen on her sister's forehead until she gained her attention. "Lizzy, I believe you are falling in love with Mr. Darcy. What is more, I believe he is falling in love with you." "Oh, Jane, I confess I do like him very much. He is all a young man ought to be. But he is so far above me in wealth and rank that I fear he will never approach father about me." "Now Lizzy! I have seen the way he stares at you, and how his eyes follow your every move. When you tease him, his face lights up and he gives you his little smile. He is the picture of a man completely besotted, and it will not be long before he approaches my father." "Do you truly think so? I would like to..."

"Hope? Lizzy, I do believe he will speak to papa, and sooner than even Mr. Darcy thinks possible." Elizabeth hugged her pillow tight against her chest, "Yesterday, he tucked a loose curl behind my ear, and he was so gentle when he did so. At the same time, he was staring at me with such kind eyes and tender expression. It left me quite undone. Surely such a man would not trifle with my affections!" "See?" Jane exclaimed, "It is as I thought; Mr. Darcy loves you, and you are as good as engaged!" The girls laughed, but soon Elizabeth heard the soft, steady breathing of her sister as she slept. Sleep eluded her as thoughts of Mr. Darcy swirled through her mind. His first name, Fitzwilliam, was as strong sounding as he appeared to be. What surprised her was the feeling of being safe, as though nothing bad could ever touch her, as long as he was near. She had never experienced that with any man, not even with her father. She

wrapped her arms around herself, wondering how his would feel holding her. Finally, she drifted off to sleep where all her dreams were of Mr. Darcy holding her hand, kissing her fingers, and pulling her into his arms until his lips crushed her's. **~~**

Two others lay awake that night, but their thoughts were not as pleasant. Miss Bingley replayed the earlier conversation in her head, perplexed that Mr. Darcy had defended Mrs. Bennet and Miss Eliza, against her remarks about them. It was all so puzzling that she found herself speaking aloud, as though this would help clarify the situation. "What can this possibly mean, and how does it affect my mission to become Mrs. Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley? He could not possible wish to connect himself to her." Regardless of what her brother had said, she wanted to believe Mr. Darcy cared for her. Perhaps he was not fully aware of her feelings, even though she did everything she

could, within the bounds of decorum, to make him aware of her regard for him. "Does he think I am only being kind because he is a friend of my brother?" She could not believe that Mr. Darcy would waste his time on the likes of Miss Eliza Bennet. She continued to muse out loud, "He must know that he could have me, Miss Caroline Bingley, with my impeccable manners, sophisticated air, education in the arts and music, not to mention my large fortune, for a wife." She plopped down on the bed. "I shall begin showing my affections more openly to him, but I must do it when Charles is not around. If I am to seduce Mr. Darcy, I must meet him alone as much as possible, but I cannot give Charles a reason to ship me off to Scotland. "Tomorrow, I will begin by pointing out every flaw, every weakness, and every mercenary tendency of Miss Eliza, and the rest of the country bumpkins named Bennet. They would never be accepted by the Ton.

He only needs to be reminded of who he is, and how far beneath him they truly are." **~~**

The other person lying awake that night was Mr. Collins. His thoughts were not as happy as he had hoped. Not securing Miss Bennet or Miss Mary was nothing to losing Miss Elizabeth. He had been most grieved to learn that Mr. Darcy was courting her. He knew the gentleman was Lady Catherine's favorite nephew. Goodness knows she talked about him enough! Mr. Collins had briefly considered compromising Miss Elizabeth, but wisely decided that was too dangerous. He could not take the chance of Mr. Darcy calling him out to defend her honor, and if he made Lady Catherine angry he could lose his position at Hunsford and be in disgrace. He might never be allowed in a pulpit again. No, it was not worth the risk! He would have to concentrate his search among the women attending the assembly.

Then he remembered Miss Elizabeth's friend, Charlotte Lucas. She was not as pretty or desirable as the two eldest Bennet sisters, but she was safer. He decided to obtain the first set with her at the Meryton Assembly. She would be grateful for the attention, and he made plans to visit her the following day. She was already twenty-six, and his was likely the only proposal she would ever receive. The day after the assembly he would ask for her hand, and perhaps they could marry before he had to return to Hunsford. Feeling pleased with his plans, he rolled over on his side and slept. **~~**

The day before the assembly, Darcy again met Elizabeth at dawn to watch the sunrise. After the muted colors faded, he asked if she could linger a while and talk. "I have no pressing duties this morning, and I will not be missed for at least an hour. Papa is going into Meryton to inspect another

field horse, and mama declared last night that she plans to sleep late this morning." "So you can run away from home for a while?" he teased. "Indeed! You will think me quite silly, but when I was a child I would threaten to run away with gypsies if mama would not let me have my way." She grinned as she lifted her eyes to him. "Usually, I wanted to climb trees or play games with the boys something that caused my dress to become dirty or torn. She fussed that I would never attract a husband when I was grown, unless I learned to act as a lady." With visions of a mischievous Elizabeth as a little girl, Darcy laughed out loud, "Is this when you would threaten to run away?" "Oh, yes! I would protest, "But Mama, I do not wish for a husband. If you do not let me play, you will be sorry. I will run away and live with the gypsies. Of course, I would never have run away; besides, I had never seen a gypsy, but mama did not know that.

She said I was a wild child, and prone to do anything." "I suspect you were quite the tomboy! What did your father say?" He believed I should do whatever I wanted, and usually I did. Now, you must tell me of your childhood. Did you get into mischief and worry your poor mother?" "At times I did, but for the most part I was a quiet child and wanted to please her." Darcy rubbed his right arm. "I broke my arm one summer by falling out of a tree, and after that my mother declared climbing them was off limits to my activities." "Did you obey her?" "I confess, sometimes I did not. My father believed boys should play as boys, and he encouraged me in those activities. I was not to worry my mother, however, so we kept those activities a secret between us." "You said you have only one sister, who is

eleven years younger than you. Were there any boys on your estate for you to play with?" His face turned grim and she quickly exclaimed, "You do not have to answer that, sir. I can see that it distresses you." He moved closer, wishing he could embrace her. "There is nothing to forgive, but it is not a story I usually tell. Someday I will confide in you, if you do not mind listening." "I would be honored." They sat in companionable silence for several moments. Elizabeth wanted to ask about his sister, but the thought of doing so made her nervous. Whenever she asked him anything personal it distressed him, so she continued to sit silent. But then her courage arose, as it always did, and she spoke, "Will you tell me about your sister?" Elizabeth was surprised and relieved when his eyes softened and he smiled. "Georgiana turned sixteen in July, and I imagine she is much like other girls her age. By that, I mean she loves to spend her days shopping and

visiting with her friends. She is a bit taller than you, her eyes are a brilliant blue, as were my mother's, and her hair is a golden brown." "What of her interests? Mr. Bingley told Jane your sister plays the pianoforte beautifully." "Yes, she does. Her music master is quite pleased with her. She also enjoys reading, and we often read the same book so we can discuss it later. Her drawing is fairly good, although her attention to it is haphazard at best. She is a little shy around strangers, but once she knows a person she is quite friendly. I believe you and Georgiana would like each other." "I would like to meet her someday." "You will, and soon. I promised to bring her to Netherfield if I stayed more than a month. If all goes as planned, I will return to London the first of November and bring her and her companion, Mrs. Annesley, back with me."

Darcy was amused when Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands at the news. "Georgiana has always wanted a sister. She will enjoy becoming acquainted with you and your sisters." "I look forward to meeting her, sir. Now, I am sorry to end this, but it is time for me to go home." Darcy stood and held out his hand to help her stand. "May I come with Bingley when he visits your sister this morning?" "Oh, yes, I would like that." He bowed, and this time he took her hand and brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. They glanced around the area and when no one was seen, he kissed her hand again, then turned it over and kissed her palm, before moving to her wrist. She gasped, and he was happy when she did not pull her hand away. As though mesmerized they stood still for several moments, unable to tear their eyes

from each other. "Until later, Mr. Darcy," she said softly. Before he could compose a clever answer, she was gone. He mounted Zeus in a single smooth action. The moment he found the path leading to Netherfield, he urged his horse into a full gallop. The movement of the horse matched the pounding of his heart as he recalled the feel of her soft, delicate skin on his parched lips. A feeling of joy he had never felt before almost overwhelmed him, and he could not hold back the laughter of happiness that burst forth. **~~**

Elizabeth and Jane waited outside for Darcy and Bingley to arrive. They had snuck into the garden to escape their mother's instructions on how to entice a man. Their bench hid them from the house, yet would allow them to see the young men when they rode onto the grounds at Longbourn. Jane glanced at her sister, who was being

uncharacteristically quiet. "Lizzy, are you keeping secrets from me?" Jane waggled her brows. Elizabeth jumped when Jane's voice brought her out of her reverie. She could not help but laugh at her sister's imitation of a teasing Sir William. "Forgive me, Jane, my mind was far away." She smiled, "I did not mean to neglect you. Now then, you have my full attention, and may speak to your heart's content." "Dearest sister, it is not that I wish to speak. I am merely wondering why you are so quiet. Perhaps you are simply meditating on the pleasures a certain tall, handsome gentleman can bring to you, hmm?" Jane glanced sideways at Lizzy. Oh, I cannot tell her how exciting it was when Mr. Darcy kissed my hand. His warm breath made me feel strange all over. With the heat rising on her cheeks, Elizabeth looked down at her hands, although she caught Jane sneaking looks at her. Before

she could answer, however, the two men appeared in the driveway. The ladies waved to catch their attention, and then waited for them to dismount and hurry over. "It is a beautiful day," Bingley exclaimed. Shall we walk toward the pond?" As they began walking, Darcy held out his arm and Elizabeth accepted it. "Do you enjoy fishing, Mr. Darcy?" "I do. Does this pond have many fish?" "Yes, it is my father's favorite spot. I often accompany him." "And do you also fish, or only keep him company?" "Would you think me terribly unladylike if I confess I love fishing?" She lowered her head until he gently lifted her chin, and with a serious expression, he said, "Of course not! It is part of what makes

an accomplished lady." She put her other hand on his arm and squeezed tightly. "I think you are a tease, sir." Feeling quite giddy, he laughed, and they continued walking toward the pond.

CHAPTER 8
Later that afternoon, when the two men arrived back at Netherfield, Darcy lay across his bed relaxing before dinner. Bingley had declined staying at Longbourn for dinner, as his sister made it plain she expected them both to dine at Netherfield that evening. His mind wandered to the assembly. As much as I dislike the activity, I would dance every set with Elizabeth if she would grant me the privilege. I know it is unrealistic to try and keep other men away, but just the thought of another man holding her... Darcy bolted upright. "I want no man to take her hand!"

Sighing, he lay back down and turned over on his stomach. I will not dance with Miss Bingley! I have done so in the past for Bingley's sake, but it has only encouraged her delusions of a match between us. I do not wish to be cruel to her, but she continues to force herself on me. I have reached the limit of my patience. Perhaps it is time I spoke plainly to her. I must make it clear that I am not interested in anything she has to offer. "No!" he said out loud, "Miss Bingley will not be in my bed in any form." Darcy jumped up to seek something to do until dinner. With the thought of retrieving his unfinished book from the desk, he was surprised to see a letter from Lady Catherine lying there. Opening it with haste, he read: Dearest Fitzwilliam, I write to give you news of my brother. I was recently informed that his gambling debts had totaled thirty thousand pounds, and he was in danger of losing his estate. Imagine my surprise when shortly after, my

informants sent word that Lord Matlock had paid his debts, and his estate had been saved! He is now completely debt free! I have been unable to determine where he obtained such a great sum of money; however, I believe Sir Malcolm was his source. In addition, Richard has come into a great sum of money, which could only have come from Sir Malcolm. Richard, of course, resigned his commission shortly after he and Miss Weatherby married. They now live on Grosvenor Street. It is my belief that both incidents of wealth are related to the situation that happened at Rosings. Miss Weatherby's dowry was more than enough for them to live very well. Why was it necessary to bestow more wealth on Richard? I do not have the answers to all my questions, but eventually I will. I am sorry this news is coming to you so late, but my informants do not depend