2. Chapter 5

Here is a shout out, and an apology all rolled into one for all my new friends from France. I did my best to write a French accent for a very favorite character of mine. She's wonderful and ridiculous all in one—aren't we all? I hope that you love her as much as I do. Enjoy Chapter Five.

CHAPTER FIVE

He did not care that he could not stir from the carriage, Darcy only wanted a change in scenery. Any change. If two bushes near the terrace, would have switched places in the middle of the night, he would have spent the day gawking. Netherfield was becoming insufferable to him--his own personal prison. Only the promise of Elizabeth calling on Georgiana, gave that great house any measure of appeal to him at this point. Yet, she did not come yesterday, and it seemed she might not come today. It was getting late for calls, and Darcy was getting anxious.

"Darcy, my new rifle has arrived," Bingley exclaimed, as he read the note from the gunsmith. He looked up at his friend. "I am to head off to Meryton, directly, to get it. Are you up for a bumpy carriage ride?"

It surprised Darcy how much a strange tree, and unfamiliar hill could lift his spirits. It reminded him of his tour on horseback, before his fall. Though he had to smile at his appreciation now. His hunger for any scenery was so voracious, that he was near to saying it was the most beautiful terrain he has ever beheld. But he held his tongue, and continued to appreciate the view. They were in Meryton in no time.

Bingley and Mr. Hurst jumped out to visit the gunsmith, and Darcy sat back in the carriage, to take in the sounds and smells of the little shire. How wonderful it was to stir out of doors.

Voices, carriages and horses came and went. It was pleasant to hear the bustle of a little town, after such dead quiet the past month. Even a infant's distant cry, which would have annoyed him previously, sounded surprisingly pleasant, as he pictured its mother calming him, and cooing in his ear.

Minutes ticked by, and Darcy settled in. He did not pay much attention to any one voice in particular, that was until a very familiar voice caught his ear.

"I do not care what the Colonel says."

"You will care, when he uses you to set an example for the rest of us, Wickham."

"Hang the Colonel! I am sick of this damn place, and I am sick of cards for the moment. And there are not pretty enough ladies out here, who will entreat me to stay. Let us go find some. The countryside is full of pretty little maidens. Maybe we will happen upon a milkmaid with her cans overflowing."

Coarse laughter was heard from at least two others.

"Of course, we could call on the Miss Bennets. There are always two or three that are eager to welcome us," enthused Wickham.

"Miss Lydia is the most obliging," added another, his voice thick with implication.

More laughter.

"Yes, God bless the young ones, who know no better," said the villain.

"Aye, I will drink to that."

The conversation made Darcy's pulse quicken, and his face grew hot. "God bless the young ones, indeed!" He thought about showing his face at that moment, and possibly making use of his cane, but the voices suddenly moved on. The door to the carriage opened, producing Bingley, Mr. Hurst, and a shiny new hunting rifle.

Wickham managed to spoil the entire ride back for Darcy. He could not enjoy the landscape. The hills, the trees, and the clouds went by, but his thoughts were of Georgiana, and how only Providence kept her from eloping with that venomous snake. Yet he was still out there, coiled and ready to strike.

Once back at Netherfield Park, the gentlemen were informed that Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet went on a walk.

Without hesitation, Darcy jumped back into the carriage to find them. And everything went wrong from there. Very wrong.

And now, Elizabeth was miles away, and all he could see was her horrified face.

London was diverting, just as Elizabeth had hoped. The Gardiner's had a lovely and stylish home on Gracechurch Street, outfitted expensively, but tastefully. Even though her uncle was in trade, the fortune he had amassed put him in the good graces of many among the ton. In turn, he and the beautiful Mrs. Gardiner were welcomed into some very exclusive circles.

Mrs. Gardiner encouraged Elizabeth to accompany her on her many calls, to introduce Elizabeth to those who mattered. Her aunt was wise, and knew this was the only way Elizabeth would be invited to the foremost balls. Elizabeth was, after all, a gentleman's daughter. Her aunt also insisted on having new clothes made for her during her stay. And Elizabeth would have the very best, Mrs. Gardiner avowed.

At the dressmakers, Elizabeth had choices of many sumptuous fabrics. Her aunt would not let her stray from the silks and satins for the ball and evening gowns. Three new dresses were to be made for her in the very latest fashion.

Mademoiselle Adele, with her thick French accent, grabbed some deep emerald green silk that Elizabeth was admiring, and wrapped it around her, and swept her toward a mirror.

"Oui! Zees is you," she declared. "Zee gown I make from zees, will be mageecal."

The tremendously large and buxom lady, with unnaturally bright ginger hair, piled very high on her head, leaned over and looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes. Besides her vast cleavage, which was eye level with Elizabeth, the lady's face was powdered, her lips rouged, and she had three beauty spots placed strategically on her face. The largest one was barely clinging by a long hair above her lip, and it bounced with every word Mademoiselle Adele uttered.

Elizabeth could not but help glance over at her aunt, who suppressed a smile. Eight-year-old Sara was allowed to join them, having begged Elizabeth in private that morning. She stood next to her mama, with her eyes wide open, gaping at Mademoiselle--not helping Lizzy maintain control one bit.

The lady continued. "You will call your beloved to you, when you wear zees." She brought the silk up to Elizabeth's eyes, and she lowered her voice.

"For he will be drawn to you, and will find you, no matter where you go," she stated reverently and resolutely, as if it were written in stone. As if she read it from the Old Testament, closed the holy book, and a boys' choir sang "amen" to seal it.

Elizabeth did not know what to say to this, so she simply nodded, and thought about the letter that she must write to her father.

"I am nev-air wrong about zees," Mademoiselle added with a wink.

Mademoiselle Adele then grinned, and all her yellowing teeth gleamed. Her bosoms heaved. The beauty spot nodded in turn, and Elizabeth knew not where to rest her eyes. She could see her aunt from the corner of her eye, turn and cover her mouth, while Sara still gaped. And Elizabeth wished for the first time, that her inclination bent toward drawing, because words alone would not do Mademoiselle justice.

The days went by, and Elizabeth did her duties. She let her aunt dress her with graciousness, and made conversation with perfectly coiffed and overly jeweled strangers. But she was never quite content, until she was alone with a book, or a letter from Jane in her room. And she tried not to think of him, and poor Georgiana's tears, and how unsettled her own heart was. She tried. Oh, how she tried.

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror, as Trina finished with her hair. It was as if she was facing a stranger, who resembled herself, but was much more refined.

"Do you like it, Miss Bennet?" Trina asked confidently, reading her face. "You look very beautiful."

"Yes, Trina. But I hardly recognize myself," she admitted.

"I can make a sketch, Miss, if you would like, to show your maid at home how to sweep your hair over like this," Trina offered.

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of Betsy trying to recreate the intricate curls, and could only think of how much hair she would actually lose in the process—either pulled out with a comb, or burned off with the curling iron. "Oh, that will not be necessary, Trina. Thank you, though."

Trina smiled. "I will be right back with your gown." She curtsied, and left Elizabeth alone with the exquisite creature looking back at her. Elizabeth was not one to fuss about her looks, but for once, she could see how the skilled hands of a good maid could make such a difference.

In a matter of a minute, Trina was back with Elizabeth's new ball gown. It was deep burgundy silk, cut lower than she was comfortable with—all Mademoiselle Adele's gowns were cut too low for Elizabeth's liking—but was promised ample lace.

Elizabeth stepped into it, while Trina pulled it up and tucked, pinned and sewed her in. The color of the gown complimented Elizabeth's fair complexion and deep chestnut hair, and Elizabeth could not help but to be pleased with such an elegant dress, and as always, wondered how Jane would look in it.

"The gentlemen will be looking at only you tonight, Miss," Trina said as she pulled tight. Elizabeth's lungs emptied, but other parts of her almost spilled out.

"Trina! This is too much!" Elizabeth was almost panicked.

"Do not worry, Miss, that is what the lace is for," she explained. But Elizabeth could only see her overexposure, and blushed.

Trina finished with all the ties and fastens, and then brought the lace over, which calmed Elizabeth down, once it was in place. She wished that Jane could see her, for Jane would laugh with her, and put her at ease. She would know no one at the ball, besides a few married women whom she met calling with her aunt, yet she was determined to be diverted.

Introductions were made, and Elizabeth was immediately asked to dance by the grandson of a Mrs. Boyle, whom Elizabeth had met two days prior. Mrs. Boyle had taken her hand and declared her a dear, pretty thing, and then lamented, more than once, that Elizabeth was worth only one thousand pounds after her mother's death, and then seemed disappointed that Mrs. Bennet would most likely live a very long time.

Mrs. Boyle recovered from her disappointment, and promised Mrs. Gardiner that she would procure Elizabeth dancing partners, and she was true to her word. Elizabeth had a suspicion that Mrs. Boyle, while busy finding partners for her, was also liberal with the unfortunate news of her measly inheritance, and the healthy state of both her parents.

Her first partner was a good dancer, though not very handsome. He was kind, clearly admiring, and offered her punch after their set, and talked of London, and what she had seen and done during her visit. Elizabeth's second partner was quite tall, and tolerably handsome she thought. He was not as talkative, which was fine with Elizabeth, since it gave her the opportunity to look at the other couples while they were dancing, but he did look at her lace more than she was comfortable with. There were many pretty and elegant young women there, but thanks to Trina, and Mademoiselle Adele, Elizabeth did not feel that she did not belong.

Elizabeth sat next to her aunt before the third set was to start. Mrs. Boyle bustled over with a handsome gentleman, with sparkling dark eyes and a ready smile.

"Miss Bennet, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam," the lady pronounced.

The gentleman's smile widened, and he bowed. "It would do me a great honor if you would dance with me, Miss Bennet. If you are not otherwise engaged."

Happy with the partner presented before her, Elizabeth smiled. "No sir, I am not engaged." She thought that his eyes reminded her of someone, but she could not place it.

Colonel Fitzwilliam put out his gloved hand and Elizabeth took it. They made their way to the dance floor and found a place among the couples. The Colonel's smile did not falter, and the music started.

"Is it impertinent of me to say how relieved I was to see you, after I promised Mrs. Boyle blindly that I would dance with her pretty little friend?" Elizabeth looked over at him as they danced. "For I am afraid she is far too lenient with the word 'pretty,' and I was preparing for the worse," he continued.

Elizabeth only smiled as she circled behind him, and then took his hand once more before he spoke again. "As much as I am relieved, I have to say that I was also surprised, for I saw you earlier, and did not think that the prettiest lady at this ball would have a free dance."

Elizabeth did not meet his eyes, but smiled slightly, and continued with the dance.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, do you jot these things down ahead of time, or do they come upon you at will?"

The Colonel laughed out loud. "You accuse me of being insincere, Miss Bennet?"

"I accuse you of nothing. I only ask if your sincerity is studied or spontaneous," the lady said teasingly. "I've recently become a student of compliments aimed at young ladies."

"Indeed? Well, let me assure you that no other ladies have been the object of my sincerity this evening… studied or spontaneous." This time, he circled behind her.

"And may I add, from our brief conversation, I can assure you that my sincerity will stay with you for the duration of the night." He then found her face. "You may study that, Miss Bennet."

Touché! He took her hand once again, and she smiled fully. This was exactly what she was looking for, but had not dared to hope—a handsome and agreeable partner who could keep up with her. They continued to dance, and since it was the dinner set, the dashing young Colonel was her escort to dinner. And just as Elizabeth had wished, she was excessively diverted.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam paid you a great compliment by asking you to dance twice, Lizzy," her aunt commented on the carriage ride home. "And you two talked quite a deal at dinner. I understand he comes from a great family, although he is not the eldest."

Elizabeth smiled. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, eldest or not, was very kind to ask me for a second set, Aunt, but I am certain it was only to prove a point."

"I do not understand, Lizzy."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam told me that I was the prettiest lady at the ball, and I challenged his sincerity."

Her aunt smiled knowingly. "Lizzy, you are far too clever for your own good. You should not be daring young men to prove themselves to you. The way you looked tonight, there could have been duels breaking out all over."

Elizabeth laughed without reserve. The thought of anyone dueling over her was most absurd. "Aunt! You know me better than that. Please do not accuse me of such things."

"Ah, but it was nice to see you smiling and enjoying yourself, my dear. I have been more than concerned for you. You have not been yourself for weeks now, and it has pained me to see it," her aunt noted.

"I thank you for taking me to London with you, Aunt. I think I shall be myself soon."

More time passed, as Elizabeth settled into a pleasant routine with the Gardiners. She was allowed to read more, and spent less time going on calls with her aunt, now that she was generally known. She even found her way to their pianoforte in the drawing room, and was surprised how she enjoyed playing—much more than at Longbourn. At least here, she could not get on her mother's last nerve, or have Mary constantly hovering, and telling her how very wrong most of it was. She was left to choose music that suited her, and could take as much time as she needed to work through a passage, without fear of any sort of interruption—including visiting red coats.

And then, the letter that she was expecting—with news that everyone was anticipating—finally came. Jane was engaged to Mr. Bingley!

Elizabeth pictured the happy event in full. How Jane would have blushed, making her look even more radiant, and how joyful tears must have flowed. How handsome and noble Mr. Bingley must have looked, with his two sisters clinging, each to one leg. And how he must have dragged them several feet across the floor, to take Jane's hand, and place a gentle kiss upon it.

Her aunt, and young Sara joined her in her joy, and all three scrupulously planned out their honeymoon, where they should settle permanently, and just how many children they should have--although Sara was adamant they should have kittens instead.

Elizabeth was able to write a very loving and felicitous letter to her dearest sister. She was sorry that she was not there, but not wholeheartedly. A very small part of her ached for some unknown reason, but she tucked the ache away, and let her other feelings overflow into the replying letter.

Yet another ball was upon Elizabeth, and she gave herself over to Trina, freely this time, who squeezed, pinned and tucked her into another new gown. Elizabeth had written to Jane in detail about this gown, for she knew Jane, who had a finer figure, would look like an angel sent straight from heaven in it. She had never seen a prettier pale blue, and there were seed pearls sewn onto the hem of her sleeves, and embroidered on her bodice in groups of five, to resemble tiny white flowers. Around the pearls, gold thread was used to fashion delicate leaves that trailed and connected the pearl flowers.

"I think that I like this one the best, Miss. So elegant, so delicate—just like you. And look at your eyes! I did not know they were so blue," Trina enthused, as Elizabeth looked at herself in a full-length mirror.

"My sister Jane would look far better in this," Elizabeth observed, but secretly liked what she saw. Trina ignored her, while she helped her into her slippers.

"You are not being fair to the other ladies tonight, for they will despise you as soon as you walk in, Miss Bennet. I would accept no punch from anyone but a gentleman. A lady might spit in it." Elizabeth looked down surprised and amused at Trina. "Trust me," Trina added as she stood up.

Elizabeth smiled as she thought of the amusing letter that she would be able to write Jane, even without the ball. London was turning out to be exactly what she had hoped. Elizabeth smiled, because she had barely thought about him today. Trina fussed with a loose curl on Elizabeth's head, until she found its proper home.

"I do not say this to every woman I dress, Miss. One cannot put a gown on a camel, and expect it not to be a camel any more." Elizabeth laughed as Trina smoothed out her gown and looked her over to see if anything else should be done.

Mrs. Gardiner came in at that moment and stopped to admire her lovely young niece.

"Oh, Lizzy! You are simply a vision! I cannot even imagine how many hearts will be broken tonight over you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Please do not say such things, Aunt."

"And why should I not?" her aunt challenged.

Elizabeth looked from her aunt to Trina who was in full agreement, and then back at her aunt. "With Mrs. Boyle making my inheritance everyone's business, there will certainly be no hearts set on me, and thus none to be broken."

"My dear, your lack of fortune will only scare off the not very rich. A very rich man does not have to worry about such a thing. Believe me, you will break hearts tonight, and that can be done by just glancing at you, my sweet girl."

"I told Miss Bennet so. She is no camel," Trina added with fervor.

Colonel Fitzwilliam lost no time in finding Elizabeth the moment he entered the ballroom. Elizabeth had despaired when she had to accept the hand of a Mr. Turner, with more teeth than she thought could fit into one mouth, for the first set. But her hope was restored when she spied the Colonel heading toward her. He had such open and happy manners. She was almost certain that there was not a thought in his head that did not pass on his face, and she liked him very much because of it.

When he reached her, he could not hide how stirred he was by her appearance. He smiled, but not the knowing and teasing smile she became used to at the previous ball. This smile was reverent, almost cautious. She looked up at him curiously, and he bowed.

"Miss Bennet, I have been in your presence for only a few seconds, yet you have claimed all my sincerity once more. You look positively stunning… Please, may I claim the next two dances?"

"Certainly, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I do not desire your sincerity this evening."

The Colonel looked quizzically at her.

"I desire entertainment. Please fill my head with tales of your travels, for I have decided that I am quite dull and ignorant, after spending time in my uncle's expansive library. If I cannot see the rest of the world, I must at least hear of it from someone who has."

The Colonel smiled graciously. "Miss Bennet, first of all, you do yourself a great disservice, by claiming yourself dull and ignorant—I find you quite the opposite. Quite. And secondly, I am very much capable of entertaining you with stories of my travels, with my sincerity still intact."

Elizabeth smiled. "I am happy to hear that."

The Colonel's teasing smile reappeared. "My mission tonight, will be to sincerely entertain you, Milady."

Mr. Turner, and his fifty-seven teeth, were quite forgot, and the Colonel was forgiven for being late. Elizabeth smiled at the attractive man beaming before her, and she secretly hoped that he would, once again, ask her for more than one set.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet," said a low, baritone voice.

A shock wave went through Elizabeth. She knew that voice, but it was out of place. It belonged miles and miles away. That voice belonged under an oak tree, off of a path. It made her heart pound and her face flush.

What was he doing here? She was finally distracted enough in London not to be thinking about him every hour, and now he appears out of nowhere, to continue his slow, cruel torture.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and forced herself to turn slightly to face Mr. Darcy, who came to stand next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. She met his eyes. They were pained, and it sent her a little off balance. She knew she hated the man, but she did not feel it as fully as she thought.

"Mr. Darcy. I did not expect to see you, sir." She kept her countenance, and then looked down at his leg. "You are recovered?"

"Yes. I am recovered." He tried desperately not to look awkward. "And because I am recovered, Georgiana and I decided to come to London. We have a home here." Darcy looked over at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was smiling widely at Elizabeth.

"I see that you have already made my cousin's acquaintance, Miss Bennet," Darcy remarked.

Surprised, Elizabeth looked back and forth at both of them. She then remembered whose eyes the Colonel's resembled. They were cousins! But beyond the eyes, there was nothing remotely similar about them. The Colonel was fair and good-natured, and Darcy was dark and brooding. Well, he was usually brooding. Right now he seemed many things, but definitely not brooding. He smiled at her. Elizabeth thought she could see merriment, but his eyes suggested sadness.

"I had no idea," Elizabeth confessed. She was off centered by Darcy's arrival, and now even more so, because of the intimate connection between Darcy and the handsome Colonel, whose attentions she had very much enjoyed. She was hoping to spend as much time as would be considered appropriate, dancing and conversing with him. It had been a very long time since she had met someone with that much wit and liveliness, and now it was all ruined. For how could she be comfortable getting to know Colonel Fitzwilliam, if his severe cousin was nearby, watching, judging and disapproving?

"Nor was I aware that you were acquainted with Darcy, Miss Bennet, or we should have talked about him behind his back," Colonel Fitzwilliam joked. "It was only this afternoon when I mentioned that I would be seeking you out as my first dance partner, did the connection come to our attention."

She looked back at Darcy. He smiled, and took a step closer to her.

"Miss Bennet, if I may be so forward--may I claim the set after?" he asked in all sincerity.

Elizabeth was astounded. It was like the Netherfield ball all over again, except this was worse! Weeks of hard work, books, shopping, new acquaintances, all designed to keep her from thinking about him and his cruelty, were unraveling rapidly as she stood before him. He looked down into her eyes, and tried to pull things out of them—she was sure of it! And she tried desperately to hold on to them, and keep them from him.

She wanted to refuse him. She wanted to run from the room and never look back. But she said yes. In an instant. She could not help herself. Stupid girl! Would she turn into a pillar of salt because of her weakness? Would she slowly be washed away into nothingness, because her strength failed her?

The next set started, and Elizabeth found herself standing up with the Colonel.

"So, Miss Bennet, in keeping with my word on the subject of talking about Darcy behind his back--how did my cousin behave in Hertfordshire?" He looked at her with teasing eyes, and even though she wanted to tease back, she knew that anything said, would be related to his cousin, so she answered cautiously.

"Mr. Darcy was a perfect gentleman in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she answered calmly.

"I do not doubt that he was a gentleman, Miss Bennet. But how did he act among people? Did he even speak a word?" Elizabeth looked up at him puzzled at his question, and the Colonel saw that he needed to elaborate.

"Darcy is rather quiet in places where he is not familiar. He has been like that since he was a boy, but he is lively enough in other places—among people that he knows. I was simply curious to see how he would act among country gentry."

Elizabeth could not help but wonder. It had never occurred to her that Mr. Darcy's aloof behavior could simply be shyness. How very odd. Could a rich, handsome, and powerful man, such as Mr. Darcy, be unconfident? Wanting to hear more, Elizabeth joined the game.

"Mr. Darcy was rather quiet, and did keep to himself. The very first time I saw your cousin, was at an assembly, where he only danced only two sets, and then with only the women in his party. Many other young ladies were in need of a partner, but I overheard him saying that it would be insupportable to stand up with any of them."

Fitzwilliam laughed, and then feigned shock. "And were you in need of a partner that evening, Miss Bennet?"

The lady smiled slightly, before she looked down.

"It seems very clear, that it is not insupportable for him to stand up with you tonight," he teased.

"I fear it is strictly out of duty, Colonel. I am not certain if it is a written law, but if a lady runs across a gentleman broken and bleeding by the side of the road, and offers assistance, the gentleman might feel he owes the lady one dance, if he happens upon her at a ball… even if the thought was previously insupportable."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked shocked. "You ran across Darcy after his riding accident? He said nothing of it, that coxcomb!"

Elizabeth immediately wished she could take back her previous statement. Her face got hot, and her mind raced to see how she could rectify her words.

"I am very sorry for relating that, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It was common knowledge among our acquaintances, but I did not mean to say anything that would make your cousin uncomfortable among his friends here."

Fitzwilliam smiled knowingly. "Miss Bennet, do not distress yourself. I only had a brief letter from Darcy, stating that he was thrown from his horse, and broke his ankle. He was not hiding any information, and he and Miss Georgiana have only just arrived this morning in London."

He looked at her flushed face. "Really, Miss Bennet, there is no shame in having an angel rescue you. I can only say, that I wish it was I who lay broken and bleeding. I would have shouted it from the rooftop… if I was able to get myself up there." He winked at Elizabeth. "Darcy has all the luck."

The Colonel was successful at lightening the mood, although he wondered why Elizabeth blushed, and just why Darcy had failed to mention that this bewitching little creature had helped him in his hour of need. For the Colonel himself had spent quite a few minutes that very afternoon talking about the "beautiful and witty Miss Bennet" that he was fortunate enough to dance with at the last ball he attended. Darcy inquired if it was the same Miss Bennet of his acquaintance, but said nothing further. He did, however, decide that he would attend the very ball that sounded so tedious to him, just a half hour earlier.

The third set was upon them, and Darcy silently escorted Elizabeth to the floor. This was the closest she had been to him since the day of his accident, and she tried to put that out of her head. He looked at her the entire time they walked across the room, though she looked straight ahead. Heads were turned, and Elizabeth could only imagine it was to see the tall and handsome man, with the penetrating dark eyes. She also knew that he was probably a curiosity, and a target for many single young ladies and their mothers, who were finally able to put the name "Darcy" with his form.

Still nothing was said, and the dance started. Darcy was a good dancer, and that did not free Elizabeth's mind to think of conversation. Even though he was bent on silence, she was not going to spend the next fifteen minutes warring with her thoughts, and trying to decipher his.

"Mr. Darcy, I must apologize, and tell you that Colonel Fitzwilliam now knows that I assisted you the day of your fall."

Darcy smiled down at her. "I see that Fitzwilliam was true to his word about talking behind my back," he quipped lightly.

Elizabeth was a little stunned by his cheerful manner. "I did not mean to tell him something that you had no intention"—

Darcy interrupted her. "Please Miss Bennet, I do not mind his knowing. I was quite joking when I told you I would buy your silence on the issue. Colonel Fitzwilliam has had his share of falls, I assure you, but even the charming Colonel cannot claim to have had such a lovely savior. I, you see, have the upper hand."

Elizabeth could not help but stare at him in amazement, and Darcy was well aware of it.

"Miss Bennet, are you shocked at hearing a compliment coming from me?"

He was all light and easy, and Elizabeth was wondering if she was indeed dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, in a Darcy mask. She gathered herself.

"In all honesty, Mr. Darcy, I do not think I have ever heard you compliment anyone, except your own dear sister."

He continued to smile, and now had her hand, as it was part of the dance. He could stand it no longer. He had waited weeks for this very moment. Her eyes were light blue tonight, and he wondered how many other shades he had missed being apart from her.

"Forgive me, for not saying what is on my mind more often." He looked her full in the face, "May I also say, Miss Bennet, that you simply took my breath away the moment I walked into the room? And I am still waiting for the moment when I shall regain it."

Elizabeth continued to stare, not being able to figure out what he was about. "Do you tease me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked incredulously.

Still holding her hand, still dancing, and still smiling, Darcy answered. "Do you think me so cruel as to give a compliment to a lady, and then take it back?"

"I am not certain, Mr. Darcy," she admitted.

"Are you still trying to sketch my character, Miss Bennet?"

"Very much so."

"Then as before, I will not suspend any pleasure of yours," he teased this time. Elizabeth remembered the last time she heard those words from him. How very different it was coming out of a smiling, charming man. But he was right. She was nowhere near finished sketching his character. This man she was dancing with was the most confusing, frustrating, maddening and fascinating man she had ever met.

The set ended, and while he escorted Elizabeth back to where her aunt was waiting, he slowed and hesitated. "Miss Bennet, may Georgiana and I call on you tomorrow?"

Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana's name. "Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I would love to see Miss Darcy again. Is she well?"

For the first time since they started dancing, Darcy's smile slipped. "She is well, Miss Bennet, but I feel the need to explain something to you about my behavior the last time you saw me." Pain washed over his face, and he looked pleadingly in her eyes, as he did when she refused his carriage that day.

The look caught her by surprise, and made her feel like comforting him. She was thinking of something to say to him, when Colonel Fitzwilliam walked up to them.

"Darcy, it is unkind to keep the lady standing after all this time. Miss Bennet must be exhausted." He handed her a small glass of punch. Elizabeth let go of Darcy's arm and took the cup.

Part of her was relieved to be free of him, but another part, a much larger part wished everyone else would melt away and they could speak openly without reserve. Once again, those questions that kept her from sleep, found their way back to the forefront of her mind. She was sure she would never have a restful night again, and it was all his fault.

With a book from her uncle's vast library open on her lap, Elizabeth was more than distracted, and could not recite the title, nor its content if her life depended on it. For he would show at any moment, and she was right—she did not sleep a wink. Even the overly complimentary Trina noticed her tired face this morning, before she made her splash it with rose water.

How could Elizabeth sketch his character, when he yells at his sweet sister for taking a walk in the country, and then comes to London and declares, out of the blue, that she has taken his breath away? What was this man all about? How could he be so cruel to Mr. Wickham, yet have such a devoted friend as Bingley? She was certain that Bingley was not impressed by Darcy's fortune, but what could possess him to keep Darcy so close, if he was such an unpleasant fellow?

She also pondered Colonel Fitzwilliam's claims that Darcy was shy and uncomfortable around strangers. Does that explain away his severity? Does it pardon his rudeness? Nothing made sense. Elizabeth's own feelings did not make sense. She was afraid of him. She was unwillingly drawn to him. He offended her, yet he mesmerized her. She was completely and utterly confused by him.

Elizabeth glanced around the elegant and sunny parlor where her aunt, uncle and Sara, were busying themselves while they waited for their illustrious callers. It was unusual for Mr. Gardiner to wait for a caller, but her aunt must have talked with him privately, for he kissed Lizzy on her hand, and told her she looked lovely before he sat with his paper. Elizabeth blushed and shot a look over to her aunt, who smiled and pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary.

A carriage was heard, and Sara ran to peek out the window. She giggled a little, while the rest of the room went on as if nothing was heard. Elizabeth tried to turn her attention to the fact that Georgiana would be there, and how happy she would be to see her, after so many weeks. This exercise seemed to work, since Elizabeth was perfectly collected when the three callers entered. Colonel Fitzwilliam had decided to join them.

Introductions were made. Georgiana was so visibly pleased to see Elizabeth, that Elizabeth felt it not improper to take her hand in earnest, and pull her to sit next to her on the couch with Sara. Mrs. Gardiner did a lovely job welcoming everyone warmly, and making sure they were comfortable. Elizabeth was struck by the fact that even though her aunt was so young, most likely very close to Mr. Darcy's age, she handled her domestic duties with grace, elegance and ease. Elizabeth was secretly pleased to have family that she was actually proud of, and her nerves eased, as her heart swelled.

Tea was ordered, and general pleasantries were exchanged about the Gardiner's lovely home, the weather, and last night's ball. Soon, the gentlemen fell into easy conversation with Mr. Gardiner about his business, the war, and trout fishing. Elizabeth helped Georgiana into conversation with her aunt and young Sara. Sara, being but eight, and freshly aware of everything that she would some day step into, asked Georgiana if she was "out." Even though Georgiana initially blushed, an entire conversation on the merits of coming out, dancing lessons, and what she should wear to her first ball filled the next half hour.

The separate conversations soon melded, and then broke off in different directions. Mrs. Gardiner spoke of her growing up not five miles from the Darcy estate in Derbyshire, and Mr. Darcy happily conversed with her on favorite haunts and old families in the area. Elizabeth soon found herself talking with a very enthusiastic Colonel Fitzwilliam on the subject of poetry versus prose. Even though Mr. Darcy was speaking to her aunt, she was certain that she saw him turn his head slightly, when she spoke her opinion on this and that.

Finally, Darcy spoke to Elizabeth. He warmly congratulated her on the recent engagement of her sister, and they were able to talk about the couple, the upcoming wedding, and where they would travel for their honeymoon. When Elizabeth cordially asked after the health of Bingley's sisters, she noticed a faint smile on Mr. Darcy's face, as he answered that they were both indeed in good health, as well as Mr. Hurst.

"You will soon have two more sisters, Miss Elizabeth. How very fortunate for you," he teased.

Elizabeth could not help but to smile and shake her head.

"No, Mr. Darcy, Jane will have two new sisters. I already have more than I could possibly handle," she joked, and he smiled.

"Will you be sorry to have lost such a friend to matrimony?" she asked in all sincerity.

Darcy sobered. "No, not at all. How could I be sorry to have a friend so happy in his choice of a wife?"

He glanced over at Fitzwilliam, and then back at Elizabeth with a glint in his eye. "The man is so happy, that it is rather difficult to be around him. I willed my leg to heal quickly, just so I could escape his raptures."

He then mimicked Bingley. "The sun has never shone brighter, the stars never twinkled as much, an angel has never looked as heavenly…" Darcy shook his head, and the room filled with laughter.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Gardiner added. "The sun shines in this very parlor, because of my lovely Margaret."

Mrs. Gardiner reddened, but smiled at her handsome husband, who blew her a kiss.

Colonel Fitzwilliam called out, "Bravo!" and started to clap, and was joined by Mr. Darcy who was smiling genuinely, much to Elizabeth's surprise.

Elizabeth thought that she could not remember when she had so enjoyed callers that she did not consider her intimates, before. Everyone was at ease, conversations flowing without awkwardness, and Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana seemed to truly enjoy the company of her family. How could that be?

She knew Darcy was very aware that, even though he was in a beautiful home, with its elegant owners, it was all begot from trade. But Elizabeth did not see one trace of distaste come from that gentleman. He was laughing, smiling and talking more than she had ever observed. He was an enigma, and she knew not what to think.

All too soon the callers had to leave. Elizabeth was sorry to see them go, but promised to call on Georgiana, and an invitation to a dinner party at the Gardiner's was extended for Friday night, and accepted.

Later that evening, as Elizabeth came down from her room, she passed her uncle's study and overheard her aunt speaking through the closed door.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam is clearly admiring, but he cannot be serious. He will have to marry rich, for he has nothing but the Fitzwilliam name. His brother gets the estate, the title—everything. Now Darcy is a different story altogether. He can marry anyone he chooses, and he has no immediate family to please, besides his sister, who clearly adores Lizzy. He might have been reserved here this morning, concerning her, but you should have seen the way he looked at her last night, dearest. He looked at no one but Elizabeth all night. And his only dance was with her. He used the excuse that he was recovering from an injured ankle, but he looked quite sprightly when he was out on the floor with Lizzy. I am certain he offended the whole of London society, but I do not think he cares, husband. Can you imagine? Pemberly!"

"Now, Margaret, do not get ahead of yourself. Let us just watch and see. I am Elizabeth's protector while she is with us, and I will not stand for anyone who toys with her affections, just because she is a pretty diversion. We will have plenty of opportunities to observe these gentlemen, my dear. Be patient, and put all your energy toward our dinner party on Friday."

Elizabeth quickly hurried to the library to avoid being discovered. She closed the heavy door, and leaned against it. She could not believe what she was hearing. They had no idea what was in Mr. Darcy's head. They were so very mistaken, that it was laughable! Why must everyone whisper "marriage" when a gentleman pays attention to a lady? Elizabeth wished she could laugh, but she could not. Why could she not laugh?

The mere speculation greatly annoyed Elizabeth. She was not upset with her aunt and uncle. She knew they were doing their duty to look out for her, and for that, she was grateful. It was just the idea of other people's looks, and whispers. She had been looking forward to the dinner on Friday, and now she only felt that she would be starring in a spectacle the entire evening. Would everyone be watching her every step? Would she be pitied if she talked with Colonel Fitzwilliam, because he could never choose her? Would she be called a fortune hunter if she spoke with Mr. Darcy?

Simply thinking about it made her feel ill. She made her way up to her room, and lay upon her bed.

She loathed money, and at this moment, she loathed people for what they let money do to them. She wanted Jane. She wanted the new Mrs. Collins. She might, at this moment, even be able to appreciate one of Mary's sermons.

And although Elizabeth's mind was weary, her legs wanted to take her and run away. She longed for the shelter of the familiar towering trees, and missed the coolness of the damp earth, and the soft rustling the leaves made, as they were disturbed. She wanted to plant her feet far apart, and yell as loud as she pleased. And she would not care how many gentlemen fell and hit their heads because of it. They could bleed all they wanted, and drag themselves for miles for help. But she would just keep on running in her white gown, and thin slippers. And would never have to make her way back. She would never come back. Never.

And then an exhausted Elizabeth, drifted off to sleep.