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  “Darcy, Anne has been showing signs of this since last year.”

  “Yes,” replied he, in measured tones. “I know it.”

  “How can you have known it! I have not told anyone,” she cried, indignant.

  “You will recall I was the one who engaged Dr. Langham. I told him I wanted to be kept informed and he did.”

  “Darcy! That is most officious of you. I am shocked.”

  “Madam, this is rather beside the point. It is hardly astonishing that I should want to know of the state of my cousin's health.” Lady Catherine was annoyed, but very soon her shoulders slumped again and her mood turned from outrage to unhappiness. Her nephew, unable to sit still when feeling helpless, rose and began to pace.

  “I do not think she has the strength of will in her to even want to recover, Darcy. I tried every means within my power to engage her interest in living, in her future, but she appears to have no desire to think of anything but her present suffering. It is partially why I tried to direct her thoughts towards you, but to no avail. Even a prettily painted future at Pemberley failed to rouse her interests.”

  He bowed, “I am flattered that you thought it might, Aunt Catherine. I gather that Dr. Langham’s belief that she could not successfully conceive a child is accurate.” At her mute, miserable nod he gentled his tone, “It would not have done, madam; you know that it would not have answered well.”

  She sighed, “You cannot blame a mother for trying, nephew.” She rallied. “I do not intend to be defeated, Darcy. I shall continue to do battle against this illness in my daughter, even if she will not. I do not lack the will.”

  Moved, Mr. Darcy stood beside her and kissed her hand. “No indeed, you do not. Mama was the same; I suppose it comes from my grandmother the countess.” He returned quickly to the point, “My wife must have strength of health as well as strength of purpose. There is a great deal that must be put on her shoulders. I could not have served my cousin such a turn as that…” he paused, deliberating, “nor ought I forget what I owe to my dependents.”

  Lady Catherine was more astute than many gave her due credit for. “I suppose you are speaking of Miss Bennet.” She sounded resigned. “Well, I cannot fault your taste, I suppose – if Anne may not marry, at least you have chosen a gentlewoman with character – I should have been very disappointed in you had you fallen for a pretty-faced idiot.”

  He faltered. “Her mother is quite dreadful. I can bear her position in society and her lack in terms of dowry, but the connections in trade and the vulgarity of some of her relations are untenable. As much as I...as unobjectionable as Miss Bennet is, I fear it would be a mesalliance. It would be wrong of me to subject Georgiana to them.”

  Lady Catherine raised her brows, surprised. “You need not acknowledge them, Darcy – I am sure she could not possibly expect it of you!”

  “Yes, that thought has some merit. If the situation were made plain at the beginning, she could accustom herself to the notion.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think that would do.” He frowned. “She would need considerable help adjusting. Could I count on your assistance?”

  Lady Catherine smiled, though sadly, at her elder sister’s only son and found herself promising to be as useful to him as she possibly could be. “I shall be glad of the occupation, I should think – I am not one of those weak-willed women who are driven into the depths of despair by a death in the family. I know my duty; I am a Fitzwilliam by birth, after all.” She swallowed, blinked several times, and briskly changed the subject. “Well then, I shall need to be driven over to the Snowes’ farm in half an hour or so. They cannot seem to get along without being told what to do as if they were infants – you or Fitzwilliam shall drive me.”

  The colonel, having properly returned Miss Bennet to her brother's protection, was still smiling to himself when he encountered Darcy coming down the stairs just as he had put his foot on the carpeted bottom step.

  “Where have you been?” asked his cousin. “Lady Catherine wants one of us to drive her out to a tenant this afternoon. There is some quarrel over the boundary line.”

  “I have been taking Miss Bennet on a stroll up to the abbey. She really is a delightful young lady – I am quite enraptured.”

  Darcy stilled, his hand resting on the smooth oak of the bannister, and looked down at his cousin. “Fitzwilliam, do be serious.”

  “I must say,” continued the unrepentant colonel, “if it were not for her ignorance when it comes to horses, I might really be in considerable danger of the parson's mousetrap.”

  “Of what are you speaking?” asked Darcy impatiently.

  “Oh! I had meant to tell you, Miss Bennet charged me to make you drive out with Anne in her phaeton one day. She seemed to think that one of the horses had been badly chosen.” He laughed at the memory.

  “What? I do wish that you would not speak in riddles. What exactly did Miss Bennet say?”

  “Merely that one of the horses appeared to be naturally much faster than the other and thus Anne had trouble maintaining an even pace, for which naturally you are to be held accountable.”

  Darcy grinned, and he momentarily looked more like the boyhood pal that had explored the ruins of Hunsford Abbey with him than the staid master that he was becoming more and more. “She was teasing me, again.” He sounded satisfied, as though Miss Bennet's ignorance gave him pleasure.

  “Eh?”

  “You had better turn around, Fitzwilliam, and take our aunt out. I have other things to attend to.”

  “What? Oh, very well then. This is my comeuppance for spending such a pleasant morning, I suppose, while you slaved over your mysterious correspondence.”

  Mr. Darcy, after dutifully handing his aunt into the carriage and informing the colonel that he had better drive more steadily than his wont, wandered round to the parsonage. He was admitted by a harassed-looking maid who neglected to announce him into the parlour.

  He found Miss Bennet oddly posed. Her arms were outstretched, with a measuring tape in one hand and pencil and paper in the other, apparently attempting to gauge the width of the room’s sole window but finding herself lacking in arm span to complete her task. Her back was to the door and she, busy as she was, did not turn to face him when she spoke.

  “You must not ask me what I am doing, dearest, for it is a secret. I shall not tell you even if you promise me your prettiest new bonnet.”

  Mr. Darcy supposed, aloud, that Miss Bennet had not been intending to address him and was greatly amused to see her start and drop her tape.

  She flushed pink and stared at him in dismay before she belatedly responded to his bow.

  “I...I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy. I thought you were Mrs. Collins returned from Rosings. I wonder that the maid did not announce you.” She watched him, a light crease between her brows, as he closed the door with a click.

  He then walked over to the bay window and picked up the tape from the floor next to her foot, indulging himself with her closeness for a moment before withdrawing. Miss Bennet looked, as she was doubtless very aware, like the epitome of loveliness with the sunlight shining in through the window and embarrassment lightly staining her cheeks the colour of a rose.

  He indulged himself yet further and could not resist a tease. “I cannot promise you my new bonnet but perhaps you will tell me without bribery what it is you were hoping to achieve. May I assist you? I will measure it for you – it is not beyond my reach.”

  He did so and was rewarded with a faint confused smile, as though one so humble as she could not have foreseen such gallantry. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. It is only a secret from Mary, and Mr. Collins too, I suppose. Do let me write down the number or I shall forget it. The depth too, if you please, thank you.”

  Having done so in neat small numerals, she slipped her paper into her pocket and relieved him of the measuring tape. “Would you care to sit down? I am afraid Mr. Collins is out on parish business and my sister has walked around to Rosings a little over half an hour ago; I was rather expecting that you were she. I am afraid you find me all alone this afternoon, sir, but I am certain Mrs. Collins would not mind if I called for the tea tray a little early.”

  He chose the chair opposite hers and shook his head at the offered refreshments. He patiently waited for her to reveal the reason for her odd behaviour when he had come in.

  She sat awkwardly clasping her hands and looking anywhere but at him before doing away with her air of mystery. “I suppose you will only tell my brother and sister of my freakish starts if I do not tell you what I was doing. I was not up to mischief or anything of that nature, not really, anyhow.” She hesitated and grimaced a little. “I am intending to use the full extent of my feminine wiles to persuade Papa that he wants to purchase a little pianoforte for Mary, one that will fit snugly into that little casement.”

  “I do not suppose your father will prove too difficult to persuade, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, thinking that Mr. Bennet probably delighted in indulging her – he himself would have difficulty refusing her when – if – he did decide to wed her.

  She corrected this false impression with a head shake, smoothing down the loose tendrils of her hair as she did so. “You are unaware of my father’s dislike of parting readily with his money, sir,” she laughed. “It often takes me considerable effort to persuade him to give me what I want – but very often it is a worthwhile challenge.”

  “I daresay that a husband might give rather more readily than a father with five daughters to oblige. Perhaps your practice will prove useful.” He cursed himself as soon as he had said it, for she looked both self-conscious and bewildered, and despite having spoken with his aunt that afternoon, he did not wish to commit himself before he was entirely sure how he would act. It would be unfair to ra
ise her expectations and hopes further than he already had with his attentions.

  They heard the sound of the front door being opened and Darcy hastily stood, “I had better return to Rosings. Good day, Miss Bennet.” With that he hurried out, encountering Mrs. Collins on the way as she stopped to remove her cloak and bonnet. He bowed very civilly to her while the maid fetched his gloves, but would not stay any longer. As he passed by the open parlour window, he heard Mrs. Collins voice drift out.

  “Elizabeth! What can you have done to poor Mr. Darcy?”

  Chapter Eight

  “Not a thing, my dear, not even when I was nearly provoked into making sport of him for having such an unnecessary length of arm,” replied a startled Elizabeth to her sister. “He is the oddest man; I do not think I have met anyone so capricious in my whole life.” She shook her head as if to clear it of the strange behaviour Mr. Darcy had inflicted on everyone. “When does Mr. Collins return, do you suppose?”

  Mary quite refused to accept the change of topic. “Yes, but Lizzy – you will try not to provoke him, won’t you? Mr. Collins is quite right when he says that he is not a man for us to make an enemy of. Lady Catherine is very fond of him and while she cannot withdraw Mr. Collins’s preferment now, it could make life very...very awkward, if she were to take up against us.”

  “Mary! As though I should do anything that I thought would cause you discomfort. Besides, my enemies need not be your enemies. I am sure Mr. Darcy and his aunt are quite aware that Lizzy Bennet’s wild temper and desire for a good argument are not shared by the – what was it your husband called you again? – the incomparably useful Mary Collins.”

  Mary smiled happily. “You may laugh at us, Elizabeth, but if Mr. Collins had attempted to praise my beauty or lovely nature we should both know he was lying. He is honest in his compliments. I find that I do not mind at all. Other women may enjoy having their eyes compared to stars, or...or their hair likened to a raven's wing – it is not for me. I should probably shake my head if anyone attempted it.”

  “I cannot deny that you are well suited to each other. I am glad I came; I shall not find it necessary to poison my dear brother after all – he does take good care of you and you are happy, I think.” Her familiar mischievous twinkle lurked in her eye. “If only your dearest, most favourite sister would cease to find Mr. Darcy quite so offensive, I daresay you should be incandescently happy in your wedded bliss!” She went to fetch her book, still laughing, but Mary, though exasperated, knew that her words had not been carelessly discarded, and was able to greet her husband with perfect ease, in the knowledge that she had done as he would have wished in speaking to her sister.

  The next morning the sun rose up in the sky, quite determined to coax all the earth to bloom in happy response to its light and warmth. Lizzy nigh on skipped down the stairs to breakfast. “How strange the weather is in Kent, Mary. Good morning, Mr. Collins – if you can spare me Dawkins for an hour, I shall be very much obliged to you. Why, only yesterday I felt the want of my warm coat and thick gloves, but today it is as though summer has come already.”

  Mr. Collins was unable to do without the manservant immediately but apologetically promised her that she should have her walk that afternoon. Lizzy was disappointed but directed her annoyance at Mr. Darcy. Had he not suggested that she ought not to go out unattended, she was certain it would not have even crossed her brother’s mind that her liberty was unusual.

  An opportunity for defiance came soon, however, when both the Collinses were summoned suddenly to the bedside of one of the parishioners – Mrs. Garron had been taken very ill and was not expected to survive another night. Mrs. Collins was needed to give practical comfort where she could and Mr. Collins was wanted for the spiritual. The two made great haste with their breakfasts and hurried off. Elizabeth was left quite alone.

  She comforted herself, as she put on a coat and bonnet, that she was not given to grand gestures of contrariness as a general rule and that – had Mr. Collins truly thought himself of issuing orders as pertained to her safety, she should have obeyed him as her temporary guardian, even if the obedience would be grudging.

  Really, she mused, as she danced down the garden path and out through the gate, she was not ignoring her brother so much as she was ignoring Mr. Darcy, who clearly deserved to be ignored if she was not permitted to quarrel with him openly.

  Elizabeth made her way quickly to the bluebell copse, intending to see it swiftly and then sneak back to the parsonage before she could be caught out.

  She was prevented in this by a tall gentleman already being there and hailing her before she could turn and withdraw.

  “Miss Bennet!”

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  “I thought I should venture up here again to see the bluebells – I see we are of like mind, Miss Bennet,” he said cheerfully.

  “I could not resist the call of such weather, sir. I am afraid you have caught me in my misbehaviour – the Collinses were called out this morning to Mrs. Garron's deathbed and I have exploited the opportunity for a ramble.”

  “Ah. You may depend on me, Miss Bennet; I shall not breathe a word.”

  “Thank you, Colonel – I am so much more comfortable breaking rules when I can be sure that I will not have to bear reproach for it.”

  He grinned at that and said that she had much in common with some of the officers he had commanded in the past.

  They walked together through the wood once again. Elizabeth was as pleased with it the second time as she had been the first. When they had looked their fill and finished breathing in the warm fresh scent that pervaded the wood, they turned back together and naturally made their way back. The colonel’s easy, friendly manner put Lizzy greatly in mind of Mr. Bingley, and not for the first time she wondered how it was that such an unpleasant gentleman as Mr. Darcy could hold the friendship of two such amiable men as him and the colonel.

  “Are you at all acquainted with the Bingleys, Colonel? Mr. Bingley leased a house near to my home last autumn and they were a welcome addition to the neighbourhood.”

  “Not well acquainted, I am afraid, Miss Bennet. He has been friends with Darcy since Eton – they are of an age, you know. I have heard much of him but have not been much in his company. He is a pleasant-mannered man, I understand.”

  “Oh yes! I liked him, I do not think it possible not to like Mr. Bingley – he is so very affable, you know. It makes one wonder how often he is cheated by his servants –I cannot imagine that he is known for being severe upon dishonest ones.”

  “No, nor I. I believe Darcy feels it his duty to protect Bingley from those who would take advantage of his good nature. Darcy,” he added laughingly, “has no compunction in dealing with errant servants.”

  Lizzy smiled. “You astonish me, Colonel. I should have thought Mr. Darcy and his sister were nigh to the poor house simply on account of him being so famous for his liberality.”

  He acknowledged her sarcasm with a grin but replied, “No, Miss Bennet – although I must say that he is a liberal master at Pemberley, he has the good sense for the sake of my ward not to give away his whole income to the undeserving poor.”

  “Your ward, sir? I thought that Mr. Darcy stood as guardian to Miss Darcy. Perhaps Miss Bingley was in error.”

  “Oh, it is not commonly known, although certainly not a secret. It was thought wise that there should be two trustees for Miss Darcy’s affairs and I was appointed the second.”

  “And does your charge give you much trouble? Is she often found flouting her brother’s orders and walking out alone?”

  The colonel shook his head. “Miss Darcy is of a retiring nature and, quite rightly, would not even think that her brother's requests could be ignored. She is a very dear girl, Miss Bennet, though perhaps a touch shy.”

  In her mind's eye, Elizabeth pictured a docile creature who lived in fear of displeasing her severe brother. Her brow wrinkled at the thought that the colonel’s description of Miss Darcy was not at all in keeping with Mr. Wickham's account of the matter.

  “Do you know of Mr. Wickham, Colonel?”

  To her surprise, he halted in his walk and the contented, genial expression vanished from his face. In a moment, his demeanour changed and he bore a strong resemblance to Mr. Darcy.