1. Chapter One

Chapter One

The Netherfield Ball

"Those girls are an embarrassment," Caroline Bingley declared to Mrs Hurst, glaring as Lydia and Kitty Bennet ran by, shrieking. "Why they are out in society I cannot conceive." She spoke loudly, obviously uncaring that Elizabeth stood close by with Charlotte Lucas, well within hearing range.

"Don't say anything, Lizzy!" Charlotte caught at Elizabeth's sleeve. "She is our hostess, remember!"

"I know." Elizabeth, like Charlotte, kept her voice soft so that Caroline Bingley would not overhear. "And, Charlotte, for once I am in agreement with Miss Bingley. Lydia and Kitty should not be Out."

Charlotte made no response, and Elizabeth, at that moment spying both her father passing by and Mr. Collins heading determinedly in her direction, decided to escape the one in the company of the other. Hurrying to her father's side, she tucked her hand into his arm.

"And how are you enjoying yourself, Lizzy?" Mr. Bennet enquired genially, smiling fondly down at her. "Sitting out this one? I saw you dancing with Mr. Darcy, a fine pair you make."

"It pleases you to jest with me, Papa." Elizabeth smiled up at him, then sighed as Lydia and Kitty squealed past again. "Papa..."

"I know full well what you want to say, Lizzy, and I regret that my answer is still No. Your mother would make my life not worth living if I sent Kitty and Lydia back to the schoolroom, no matter how much they would benefit from it."

"Perhaps not back to the schoolroom, Papa, but a firmer hand from you... Surely you must see that their behaviour casts our whole family in a most unfortunate light!" Elizabeth caught sight of Mr. Darcy at that moment, frowning deeply as one of the officers pursuing Lydia almost barged into him. The young man pulled up as though shot as Mr. Darcy's fearsome glare landed upon him, backing hastily away.

"We'll see, Lizzy." Mr. Bennet brought his free hand up to rub at his chest. "I for one shall be glad when the evening is over."

The dance ended just then and they found themselves close to Jane and Mr. Bingley, who came over to speak with them.

"Are you feeling quite well, Mr. Bennet?" Mr. Bingley enquired solicitously. "You look somewhat wearied. Perhaps you would care to peruse Netherfield's library, meagre though it is compared to your own. "

Mr. Bennet brightened considerably, though he continued to rub at his chest. "I should be delighted, Bingley."

"Let me summon Peters to conduct you there."

Elizabeth watched her father go, pleased he would find at least some entertainment to his liking in the evening. Jane caught at her hand and the two shared a smile before Elizabeth spotted Mr. Collins again.

"Oh, no," she said under her breath, but Jane heard her, and in one quick glance understood the situation.

"Mr. Bingley, you have not danced yet with my dearest sister," she said sweetly, placed Elizabeth's hand in his and moved elegantly away to intercept Mr. Collins. "Why, cousin, are you not having a wonderful time tonight? I declare I could dance all night, if there were but partners enough!"

"She is too good to me," Elizabeth could not help but say.

"Your sister is an angel," Mr. Bingley said quietly, and Elizabeth looked up at him. They smiled at each other in perfect accord.

The following morning, Darcy and Caroline did their best to persuade Bingley to London. He agreed, but said that they would go the following day. One more day would make little difference, after all, and he intended to go to Longbourn to bid Jane farewell in person. A letter from Caroline would be too impersonal, he insisted, and Darcy eventually sighed and acquiesced. And thought to himself that just one more look at Miss Elizabeth, one more gaze into those beautiful eyes, before he farewelled her for the last time, would make no difference. It would be hard enough to forget her as it was .

The two gentlemen rode over to Longbourn after nuncheon, suspecting correctly that there would be many late risers at Longbourn that morning. They were admitted at the front door by Hill, who bobbed a curtsy and led them towards the parlour. But before they got there, the door to Mr. Bennet's study suddenly crashed open and Jane came stumbling out.

"Hill – oh, Hill, my father is not well... MAMA!" And then she saw the two men and, white-faced, clutched at Bingley's arm, all that serenity and reserve stripped away in an instant and her true emotions clear for them to see. "Charles, oh Charles, help me, I don't know what to do!" She stared up at him, her eyes terrified but trusting that somehow he would make everything all right.

Darcy didn't hesitate. He pushed straight past Jane and the frozen Mrs Hill and into the study. Mr. Bennet was slumped over in his favourite reading chair, grey-faced. And not breathing. A cup of tea had been placed on the table by his elbow, obviously put there by Jane before she actually looked at her father.

One touch of the man's hand and Darcy knew they were too late. Bennet's skin was already cold. He'd been dead for several hours, at least. Whirling, he moved back to the door to try and block entry, but Elizabeth, the first to respond to Jane's screams, was already passing the doorway.

"Don't look..." he tried his best to protect her, but one glance and she knew.

"Papa..." her voice was a scant whisper, and she went to her father, ducking under Darcy's outstretched arm. Falling to her knees at Mr. Bennet's feet, she took one cold hand in hers and pressed her brow to it. "Oh, Papa, what shall I do now?"

Judging that Elizabeth was not about to go into hysterics, Darcy headed back into the hall, where Bingley was doing his best to comfort a distraught Jane. Darcy met Bingley's enquiring look with a shake of his head.

"We must send for the doctor..." Jane said then, and Darcy sighed.

"Miss Bennet – we shall. But it is too late, I fear."

Mrs Bennet arrived then, entering immediately into quite the wildest fit of hysterics Darcy had ever seen, screaming about them all being tossed from their home to starve in the hedgerows. Collins came down the stairs and Mrs Bennet promptly fainted, which at least reduced the noise level.

The house was thrown into uproar. Jane and Elizabeth, while distraught, were at least calm. Both Darcy and Bingley found their dislike for Collins massively increased, as he walked about pontificating smugly, saying that of course, his dear cousins should not leave Longbourn, they should all stay there together and once their mourning period was over, they should all be sisters to him anyway once Miss Elizabeth became his wife.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy turned in astonishment. The three men were waiting in the front parlour for the arrival of the vicar, since Collins did not seem desirous of performing any clerical offices for his cousin. " You are engaged to Miss Elizabeth?"

"Well," Collins hedged, "there is an understanding. Your esteemed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, sent me here for the express purpose of selecting a wife from among my cousins, and while Miss Bennet would naturally have been my first choice, it appears that her heart is already bestowed elsewhere." He gave a slight bow to Mr. Bingley, who looked absolutely astonished.

As well he might, Darcy thought bleakly, for had not Caroline and he been doing their best to convince Bingley that Jane was indifferent to him, pushed on him by her insufferable mother? Not that Bingley would ever believe that now, not considering the way Jane had looked at him in the hallway. Darcy had not the slightest notion the cool and collected Miss Bennet was even capable of such depth of emotion until that moment.

Collins was blathering again, but Darcy no longer heard. Bennet would not have been such a fool as to bestow his daughter on this twittering idiot, even if Elizabeth herself had been agreeable, he thought. But Bennet was dead, and the pressure on Elizabeth would be incredible. What choice would she have, really? Her family was about to be sequestered in mourning, and when they came out of it, her choices would be limited to marrying Mr. Collins, or seeing her family homeless. Darcy did not doubt that the fawning lickspittle would turn nasty if thwarted.

"I fear you are mistaken, Mr. Collins," Darcy found himself saying. "For only last night at the ball, when Mr. Bennet and I spoke privately together in the library, I asked him for permission to formally court Miss Elizabeth." From the corner of his eye he saw Bingley turning to look at him, mouth agape, but he ploughed on. "Mr. Bennet was in agreement. I am quite certain he would have mentioned to me any understanding between yourself and Miss Elizabeth." He'd been in there for no more than a minute or two with Bennet, and the pair of them had not exchanged more than half a dozen words, but there were no witnesses to say otherwise.

Collins spluttered to an astonished halt. "What – but..." was all he managed to get out for two full minutes, and then he gathered himself. "But, Mr. Darcy, you are engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh!"

"I most certainly am not," Darcy responded, his eyebrows lifting disdainfully.

"But Lady Catherine said that you had an understanding..."

"My cousin and I are both quite clear that we shall not marry. The understanding you speak of, Mr. Collins, exists solely in the mind of the one person who desires that union – Lady Catherine herself. Rather as I suspect the understanding between yourself and Miss Elizabeth to be."

"Certainly not – Mrs Bennet..."

"Mrs Bennet rightly feared that her husband might die and leave them all dependent on your mercy," Bingley interrupted. "She did as any mother who loves her daughters would do, her very best to see them all comfortably settled."

Collins just stood, blinking, staring between the two of them. But Darcy could already see that furtive little mind working, calculating how he could still have Elizabeth.

"Collins, you are of course from this day forward no longer dependent on my aunt's goodwill," he said, doing his best to be kind. "But allow me to tell you that she would never have approved Miss Elizabeth as a match for you. Miss Elizabeth is too independent, too inclined to speak her mind. She would not be at all suitable for the wife of a clergyman." As soon as he had spoken, Darcy realised he should have left out the last part of the statement.

"But she will not be the wife of a clergyman – she will be mistress of Longbourn," Collins said triumphantly. "A post for which you cannot deny she is eminently suited."

"I do not deny, sir, that she is well suited for a position as mistress of an estate. I had in mind Pemberley for her, though."

To that, there was no viable response that Collins could possibly make. Darcy turned, avoiding Bingley's eye, and moved to the door. He had spied through the window the vicar walking briskly up the drive.