Close to the Easter celebration, Fitzwilliam Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, made their yearly visit to their aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, whose residence was as the reader knows perfectly well, in Kent. Upon their entrance to Rosings Park, Darcy came into the intelligence of the presence of an acquaintance in the close parsonage, and immediately rushed to the place to call on the pompous parson and his visitors; his cousin came tagging along. Great was the Colonel's surprise when he learnt that the acquaintance in question was in fact a young lady from Hertfordshire. The Colonel had never seen Darcy behave in such outrageous manner for the sake of a lady. In fact, he had never known Darcy to seek any lady's favours in his life. Such urgency to pay a visit to so unpleasant a character as Mr Collins, for the mere reason of his fair relative's presence, could have only one explanation. Undoubtedly, Darcy was utterly besotted. Fitzwilliam could hardly wait to see the beauty that held such a fierce grip of his cousin's passion. For that was the only plausible explanation for Darcy's uncommon demeanour.

They found Mrs Collins' visitors had just arrived from an excursion. As Darcy unsuccessfully struggled to make the appropriate introduction, the Colonel took the opportunity to bestow a thorough look upon the aforesaid whom he took to be the girl with the dark hair, the younger one too young to have caught his cousin's attention, least of all his passion.

On the one hand, and on a quick inspection, he found Miss Bennet (for that was the name of the lady whose beauty had Darcy in raptures) to be a fairly handsome lady, though she was rather short for the Colonel's taste. Darcy was of such an imposing height, the colonel could do nothing but laugh at the idea of such a match. On the other hand, and on closer inspection now, he conceded her to be the owner of a remarkably good figure. Further perusals persuaded him of certain other features in her favour. Not only did she have a delicate, uncommonly brilliant complexion but she also possessed regular features and exceptionally playful eyes. In having the right height, she could have made a very attractive vision for a gentleman to rest his gaze on. She was definitely not outstandingly handsome, but he conceded her smile to be sweet, her silvery laugh contagious and her eyes, which were very dark, he found her possessed of a lively spirit he had never beheld in any other young lady of his acquaintance.

Only when he had finished his inspection, did he realise that after uttering a much too short salutation and introduction, Darcy had secluded himself in a seat in the farthest corner of the room. After bestowing a confused look of disbelief upon his cousin, Fitzwilliam concluded that Darcy was unable to stand his ground in front of this woman. Noticing his discomfiture, the Colonel peeked again at Miss Bennet's countenance trying to discover the reason for his cousin's whimsical reaction. In seeing nothing but a rather displeased look upon her face, he surmised that Miss Bennet was not at all pleased to see Darcy.

In the face of such estimation, the Colonel's puzzlement was not superior to his curiosity. Hence, his determination to discover if such was the case. With that purpose in mind, he sat on an opposite chair and began a tête-à-tête with the lady. Whilst the following conversation might be well known to some of us, the implications related to it are not so.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance at last!" Fitzwilliam beamed at her.

"At last, sir?"

"I have heard much of you, and the praise has not been exaggerated at all, I assure you."

"I can well believe that," said Elizabeth Bennet in disbelief. "Mr Darcy is my severest critic." Her eyes opened wide as she said these words and she smiled broadly at her interlocutor. Fitzwilliam noticed her mouth was delicately drawn in her face, and her upper teeth in a very sensual tick every now and then caught the lower lip.

I must say she is not exceedingly handsome, but sensual... That she is, in a great measure."I hope we shall see you frequently at Rosings." The Colonel tried to sound inviting, "I'm fond of lively conversation," he finished.

Miss Bennet cast a playful look at Darcy and smirked. "This you do not find at Rosings Park?" she added almost laughing at her mischievous joke. As her gaze danced upon his face, he could not help noticing the glow in her dark brown eyes.

Is it possible that she is flirting with me? Good Lord! She is! Should I welcome her forwardness? Well, why not? What is wrong with some flirtation? After all she is not engaged!

They continued conversing in the same manner quite oblivious to their company, obviously enjoying relative comradeship that did not pass ignored by a certain gentleman. Darcy had been eyeing the two of them in envious contemplation, his gaze being the source of a flick of restlessness in Elizabeth.

At length, Darcy approached the lady, and with great condescending airs muffled a perfunctory question: "I hope your parents are in good health." And that was all their interaction. For a man so passionately in love with a lady, Darcy seemed very much in need of advice. This he would not get from Fitzwilliam who found Miss Bennet's company absolutely alluring.

To Colonel Fitzwilliam's sheer pleasure, the opportunity to further his new acquaintance certainly did come, and not in scarcity, for the Collinses and their visitors would pay frequent calls on Lady Catherine. So much so, that before he could understand it, he was trapped in the web of Miss Bennet's fine eyes. Soon her visits to Rosings Park became assiduous enough to turn Fitzwilliam's admiration into serious attachment. After spending two weeks in her constant company, he concluded that she was the perfect companion for his life. They were incredibly of the same mind in almost every subject, including music, dancing and books. Needless to say, it was clear that Miss Bennet preferred his company to his cousin's.

She would talk to him, walk with him, play the piano forte with him. They would have danced together all night had they attended a ball. Colonel Fitzwilliam would walk to the parsonage almost every morning, with or without Darcy. The latter, on those rare occasions in which he had been bold enough to pay the compliments, would remain taciturn and isolated in a corner, whilst the newly acquainted would keep each other's company in a most entertaining manner.

One evening, after they had enjoyed a beautiful meal in her fair company, the Colonel confessed his intentions to his cousin.

"I say Darcy. Miss Bennet is absolutely delightful. She is simply enchanting. Very intelligent. A great conversationalist."

"I have noticed your enthusiasm, cousin. Pray, tell me. Have you asked her permission to court her already?"

"What if I have? Have you any designs on her?"

Darcy was silent.

"Have you? Oh dear. Darcy, if you have any serious designs, I shall simply step aside. But, if you do not then let me tell you I do."

"You cannot be serious. You have just met her."

"Moreover, I already like her a great deal. I know you like her a great deal too. But what are you going to do?"

"Her family has no connections to recommend her suit. She hardly has a dowry. You cannot possible think of..."

"Darcy. You sound like an old matron. I have no wish to marry Miss Bennet. At least not yet." He winced. "I merely wish to get to know her better. So, if you have no objections, I will court her directly."

Darcy's pride would not permit him to confess himself in love with the lady nor could he object to his cousin seeking the lady's favours. He had been struggling against his feelings for so long that he had persuaded himself he could conquer them at his will. Now it was the time to prove his decision. Swallowing his jealousy, Darcy admitted he was dazzled by the lady's wit and beauty, but he readily confessed he would never dream to make her an offer. That was good enough for Richard. So the next day, he commenced to court Miss Bennet in a most evident manner.

One evening at Rosings Park, however, Miss Bennet and the Colonel were sitting at the piano forte in their usual manner, while Darcy was in company of his cousin Anne, his aunt and the rest of the visitors in the continuing room. When Miss Bennet finished her piece, Darcy rose to his feet and strode very decidedly towards them.

Miss Bennet began fidgeting on her stool, and made some clumsy mistakes upon the piano forte. She was obviously not comfortable in Mr Darcy's presence. Still, she proudly looked up at him and said rather dramatically, "Do you mean to frighten me, Mr Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? I shall not be alarmed." She resumed playing and looked at the Colonel in common mockery. "My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me." Then she directed her gaze at Darcy and smiled. Her whole countenance acquired a flushed brilliancy.

The unexpected happened.

Darcy, instead of assuming his accustomed coy attitude, flashed a disarming smile and stared mischievously into her eyes. Then using a deep, soothing voice he teased her, "I know you find great enjoyment in professing opinions, which are not your own."

Now, if there was something Miss Bennet loved, that was teasing a man. She quickly answered back: "Your cousin would teach you not to believe a word I say, Colonel Fitzwilliam. - That is ungenerous of him, is it not?"

"It certainly is, Darcy!"

Notwithstanding the object of her address, Elizabeth's attentions were not directed towards the Colonel; rather she was vehemently interested in Darcy's response. Without taking her dark eyes off Darcy's, she asserted, "Impolitic too, for it provokes me to retaliate and say somewhat of his behaviour in Hertfordshire, which may shock his relations." Unmistakably, she was now flirting with Darcy. She had made that playful movement with her mouth, so very seductive, biting her lower lip with her upper teeth.

So very inviting.

Darcy posed his most seductive eyes and maintained, "I am not afraid of you."

At this, Colonel Fitzwilliam had become extremely worried. He was definitely losing ground. He tried hard to participate in their exchange but with little success. Elizabeth and Darcy might have been alone in the music room, bluntly ignoring his presence, persisting in their charade, their eyes locked, playing a most delicious game of words, which in fact was saying how much they had been involved in each other's exertions in the past. More than a game, it seemed a confession. Darcy would not take his eyes off hers. A wolf in sheep's clothing, he was definitely enjoying himself. At last, he had been able to eliminate his mortifying shyness and reveal his most seductive self.

Darcy took his time to retort every single statement Miss Bennet uttered and Elizabeth was definitely amused.

She resumed playing the pianoforte. This man was amazing, so distantly aloof one moment, alluringly bewitching the other. She recalled Charlottes' admonition. You'd be a simpleton if you let your fancy for Wickham lead you to slight a man of ten times his consequence. She had to admit Mr Darcy was ten times the consequence of any man, even the dazzling colonel.

At the end of their exchange, Darcy considered his words and took the opportunity to send a message to the Colonel. He sighed deeply and shot daggers at his cousin as he said "I... I have not that talent which some possess, of conversing easily with strangers."

Check. The Colonel decoded the message. It was a declaration of war.

Elizabeth, unaware of what was going on between the gentlemen, and thinking herself still in battle with Mr Darcy asseverated with complete conviction. "I do not play this instrument as well as I should wish to, but I have supposed that to be my own fault, because I would not take the trouble of practising!"

"You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one privileged of hearing you could think anything wanting." Then, assuming a low voice as he leaned across the pianoforte to say almost in a whisper. "We neither of us perform to strangers."

Check mate.

Elizabeth did not retort. She had expected him to retaliate once more. However, he, most generously, had shown composure and was now stating his admiration. She could see that in his eyes. Suddenly she could not hold his gaze any longer. Instead, the most outrageous thing happened to her, the very thing that could do nothing but reveal her innermost emotions towards Darcy.

She blushed.

In the end, Aunt Catherine interrupted them with acute shrieks demanding her share in their conversation. Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be more relieved.

Now, what to do? Clearly, despite her previous displeasure towards him, Elizabeth entertained feelings for his cousin. At least she was not completely immune to his unexpected charms. Her reactions before his teasing had been evident enough. She had unmistakably flushed. At the certainty of this reality, it would not be wise to depend solely on Elizabeth's taste of men nor her unsuitability. Judging from his cousin's easy performance, it would not be so difficult for Darcy to turn her nascent emotions into something more serious.

Fitzwilliam would not admit that.

A few days passed in which Fitzwilliam learned that Miss Bennet had come across Darcy on various occasions while taking her morning strolls. Every single morning Darcy went to the parsonage, and frequently he had not taken the trouble of waiting for him. Instead, he had ridden his horse to the parson's residence and even invited Miss Bennet to walk in his company.

Regrettably, often this had been done at such early hours, that he had taken the whole family unawares and still in bed. His infatuation took on such dimensions that he could not restrain his feet from dragging himself helplessly to her temporary dwelling. He was incapable of hiding his intentions as they were clearly written on his face.

"I need to have a word with you," said Fitzwilliam one morning, after he had witnessed his cousin wooing Miss Bennet in the park.

Darcy knew that Fitzwilliam must be angry. After all, he had told him he was not interested in Miss Bennet, and now he was obviously wooing her in front of his nose.

"I know what you are going to say. I am sorry. I have changed my mind. I find Miss Bennet suitable for my wife, and I intend to offer her my hand this evening."

Fitzwilliam flinched uncomfortably, "I see."

"I am sorry," said Darcy without really meaning it. He was exceedingly excited with the prospect of becoming engaged to Miss Bennet.

"I guess it is all in her hands now." Fitzwilliam reminded him.

"Indeed it is. Tomorrow I shall tell Aunt Catherine, and we will take our leave for London on Wednesday. Then, of course, I must talk with her father. I intend to stay in Hertfordshire for a month for the courtship. Do you think you could manage to lease a house there? No, no. That would be too much. I had better stayed in Meryton. Will you remind me to send a letter to Phillips? Where is Spencer? Have you seen him?" He said all this as if nothing had happened and everything had already been arranged. Fitzwilliam felt a fit of rage. However, he said nothing. He merely shook his head, then bowed and went outside.

The gall of his cousin! Who did he think he was! To issue orders as if he were his General! To take the woman of his dreams from him as if he was taking his horse!

Richard saw the need to take desperate measures. After all, all was fair in love and war.

Upon their travel to Rosings, he had serendipitously learned Darcy's struggles to separate his friend, Mr Bingley, from a certain lady from Hertfordshire. Later on, he had arrived at the conclusion that the lady whose integrity had been found faulty by Darcy was none other than Miss Jane Bennet, Elizabeth Bennet's elder sister.

Touché

He ran more than walked to the clearing in the park where he was sure to find Miss Bennet still on her morning stroll.

And there she was.

"Miss Bennet!"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"I have been making the yearly tour of the Park. Shall we take this way together?"

"With pleasure."

Col. Fitzwilliam's ill-conceived scheme was ready for launching. Thereupon he said nonchalantly.

"Mr Bingley is waiting for Darcy in London. They are going to spend the summer together at Pemberley."

"Do you know Mr Bingley and his sisters?"

"A little. Bingley is a pleasant, gentleman-like man. He is a great friend of Darcy's."

"Yes. Mr Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Yes, I believe Darcy does take care of him." Now it was the moment to release the first poisonous dose. He was sure to hit right on target. "I understand that he congratulates himself on having saved Mr Bingley the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage." He took a close look into her countenance, and saw the sudden change.

"Did Mr Darcy give his reasons for this interference?"

"I understand there were some very strong objections to the lady." There. Take it. He was not lying. He was merely being indiscreet.

Elizabeth's face shrunk in horrific discomposure. Struggling desperately not to break down she in due time managed to gasp a question.

"And why was he to be the judge?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam answered in a most innocent way. "You are disposed to think his interference officious? He could see that Elizabeth's ire had been ignited. Nothing could save Darcy from the oncoming wrath.

"I do not see what right Mr Darcy had to determine and direct in what way his friend was to be happy. But, as you say, we know none of the particulars."

"Perhaps there was not much affection."

"Perhaps not. But if that were the case, it lessens the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly, don't you think?"

Thus, the poison had been induced most imperceptibly.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's plan worked incredibly well. That very evening, Darcy dashed towards the parsonage to offer the only woman he loved his hand, only to find the most bitter rejection ever conceived. The next day, an abashed Darcy and a triumphant Fitzwilliam departed for London.

The cards once laid, what remained was only to bide his time until Darcy's rage would relent. Elizabeth had not been in London for more than a week when the London Gazette announced Mr Darcy's engagement to his cousin Anne De Bourgh. The news puzzled her exceedingly. Not that she cared for the gentleman's future; but was not it too soon for him to become engaged to another after his proposal to her? Had he not vowed he loved her?

After the disastrous proposal in the parsonage, Mr Darcy had handed her a letter in which he offered a good explanation for his dishonourable and undesirable behaviour. To have been the recipient of such grand man's affection was no little thing, but to have misjudged him in such an outrageous manner it was unpardonable. Had it not been for her prejudices, she most probably would be engaged to him by now. She laughed at the idea, thinking Lady's Catherine's face at such news!

But of course. She imagined that life with such a disagreeable fellow would have only made her miserable and was relieved she had never liked him at all. Save for ... that day at Rosings he had been ...never mind. It would not do now. As she had countless times said: She would remain a spinster while her sister will marry twice.

'Twas Spring and Elizabeth had slipped her chaperones' company, namely her aunt and uncle, whilst they did some shopping and she stopped at a beautiful store where several musical instruments were at display. Whilst caressing the key of a magnificent pianoforte, she sensed that someone was watching her from behind. She whirled on her toes to face the person, to find the dazzling smile of Colonel Fitzwilliam, beaming at her.

"Miss Bennet! How do you do?" the Colonel greeted her. His eyes danced vehemently over her happy face. "I see you are well."

"Very well, thank you, Colonel."

"I cannot believe my luck! I have been walking the streets daily in search of you." he went on.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why of course. I would not miss your company for a world. I knew you were in town. But the odds are with me, I dare say, for I found you so easily. Pray, tell me," he added while looking around. "How does your family? I hope they are in good health."

Elizabeth nodded without comprehending much. He had been seeking her?

"Ah. It seems too long since I had the pleasure of speaking to you, Miss Bennet."

"It was only a week ago." She said still unable to come round from her surprise.

"It is above eight days at least. That is too long for my poor heart, Miss Bennet." "Colonel, you are a terrible flirt," she laughed.

"You misjudge me, my dear lady. I am a man in love. Who can resist your charms?"

"Colonel! Mind your words. If my aunt hears you we will be in trouble."

"I would rather be in trouble with you, than in the safest of places alone, Miss Bennet. You must know that those days in Kent were the happiest days of my life."

"I am glad to hear that, sir."

"Do you not know why I have been so happy there?" his eyes twinkled as he spoke the words.

"I have no idea, Colonel."

"'Tis because I made the acquaintance of the most beautiful lady I have ever seen."

"I cannot think who this can be." She could not help a tentative smile drawing upon her lips.

"Can you not?"

The Colonel's blunt flirting did not bother Elizabeth but it did flush her exceedingly. She had got to know him very well at Rosings and knew that it was in his nature to speak like that. Still, he had never been so forward as to declare himself in love with her. Was he merely jesting? His tone suggested he was.

Her Aunt and uncle approached her and the Colonel asked for an introduction. Such were the charms displayed by Fitzwilliam, that first meeting ended in an invitation from the Gardiners to dine at their house in Cheapside, where the gallant soldier would have the opportunity to further his attentions to their niece.

The Colonel asked the Gardiners' permission to escort Elizabeth to the park while they went on with their purchases, and seeing Elizabeth looked pleased with the gentleman's attentions, they happily accepted. Elizabeth found the Colonel's easy chatter so natural and pleasing that she did not realise time passed by. The Colonel gently guided their way through the park and took her on a nice stroll whilst conversing amiably about little frivolities. When they had arrived at the edge of a small pond, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked her to take a seat on one of the benches purposely located there. As they sat quite close to each other, they watched the swans and ducks gathering close to them seeking some food.

"They think we are going to feed them,"

"Oh, do they?" she set to search her reticule as if it would contain some miraculous piece of bread. She had a mournful look when she looked up again. "I am sorry to disappoint them. I have nothing to give them."

"Well Miss Bennet. I can tell you, you would have surprised me exceedingly if you had produced bird food from your reticule."

"Oh, I do not carry bird food Colonel. Nevertheless, many a times I do take some biscuits with me for my nieces and nephew. Children need these little treats sometimes, especially when other manners of persuasion have failed."

"I see. Then I do not gather you happen to carry any sweet treat by any chance?"

"Indeed sir, I have some chocolate," she said producing the candy wrapped in colourful paper. "But I doubt it would be proper food for the birds."

"No, not for the birds. We cannot feed the swans of this pond had you had your reticule filled with crumbs."

"Can we not?"

"It is forbidden."

"Forbidden? And why is that may I ask?"

"I have no idea Miss Bennet. But since you are in the mood of feeding pleading creatures, let that be me. I long to taste that chocolate you are so zealously keeping for your nieces and nephew. Having you so close to me has suddenly unleashed in me a dire urge for something sweet."

Elizabeth laughed merrily. What a flirt! She had never been so much entertained by a man's attentions. Fitzwilliam opened his mouth and closed his eyes as the lady let a piece of her chocolate fall into his mouth. Then, catching her completely unawares, he closed his lips capturing the tip of one of her finger as she tried to retrieve her hand. Elizabeth gasped. Fitzwilliam, ever so seductively took her hand in his, and with a mischievous look in his azure eyes, he gently sucked the tip of her finger that was tinged with chocolate. Elizabeth watched him seriously but did not attempt to retrieve her hand.

Just as naturally, he smiled and proceeded to devour the tablet, all the time making faces of satisfaction, her hand firmly clasped in his, close to his lips, whilst Elizabeth watched the whole process with round eyes.

With a demure gesture, Elizabeth lowered her eyes, unable to keep the contact with his. Ever so slowly, she freed her hand from his hold.

"Delicious," he said. "Have any more left?"

"Not one bit."

He sighed. "Well then. I shall have to content myself with your finger."

"Colonel. May I remind you of your manners?"

"Oh no, Miss Bennet. Please do not be offended. It was only a jest."

"Sir, I am not offended in the least. Shocked I am. Such comportment you have never displayed before. At least not with me."

"Please, do not misunderstand me. I must confess myself quite overwhelmed with your charms, Miss Bennet. And since I cannot satisfy my hunger with the sweetness of her lips, I shall be content with any other part you allow me to kiss. Even your little finger."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam I think that is too much. Behave yourself."

"How can you ask me to behave when you insist to invade every minute of my waking hours? There you are, in your white dress, looking far more fetching than a hundred pound of the sweetest candy. How can a man remember his manners?"

He said that while staring intently to her lips sending such fluttering through Elizabeth's body that she could not help flushing intensely. "Miss Bennet. If you allowed me the honour to court you I would be happy to show you the depth of my affections." He was but a few inches from her; a sudden shudder shook her body violently at the mere thought of the gentleman attempting to rest his lips on hers.

"Are you cold, Miss Bennet?" he teased her, happy to have caused such a reaction on her.

"A little."

"Shall we go back? Much as I dislike the idea of parting, I fear you might lose your family."

He stood up and taking her gallantry from an elbow helped her to rise to her feet. When she had smoothed her clothes, he took her hand to his chest and asked feelingly. "Well then. What say you? May I court you?"

Elizabeth did not know what to make of him. He certainly had showed a great deal of attentions to her while in Kent. Charlotte and Maria had many a time warned her of the Colonel's growing attachment. All in all, he was a handsome man, his connections were impeccable and she supposed he was in possession of a relatively good income. To her own astonishment, she heard herself answering in the affirmative. "You may."

A broad smiled spread on his gracious features, and Elizabeth thought she could have kissed him right there. So gallant! So overwhelmingly seductive! Heart beating wildly, she allowed him to bestow a lingering kiss on the back of her hand, and face crimson to the unbelievable she looked around fearful that her aunt should happen on them at that precise moment. Then, ever so naturally, he offered her the crook of his arm where she dipped her hand. Boldly, he covered it with his own and kept playing with her fingers all the way back to the place where he had found her.

Elizabeth's stay in London became exceedingly interesting after her happy encounter with the Colonel. Very soon, her mind was very agreeably engaged with his handsome figure. They would spend countless hours immersed in deep conversation in the Gardiners' little parlour, during which it was not strange to hear the peal of Elizabeth's laughter, while Jane watched them in silent contemplation. Jane's own prospects to find her own happiness, however, became highly increased due to a certain event that took place near the theatre box belonging to the Earl of Matlock.

They had arrived at the theatre together, Elizabeth's aunt and uncle tagging behind with Jane, whilst Elizabeth rested her small hand in the place it had so soon found so comfortable: the crook of Fitzwilliam's arm. The Colonel proudly paraded in front of the ton, his chin up, smug grin upon his face.

As their small party came close to the family box, a much bored Caroline Bingley surveyed the sea of faces in search of a familiar countenance. Much was her surprise when she spotted the face of her greatest foe, Miss Eliza Bennet, and her sister, standing happily to the side of a gorgeous officer. She was instantly relieved that her brother was not in attendance that evening. It would have been a great misfortune if Charles found out her little secret that Miss Bennet was in town. But Caroline's curiosity was pricked. Who could that handsome man in the company of the Bennet girls be? Had Miss Bennet finally set her cap at a penniless officer? She could barely contain her impertinent inquisitiveness. What a delightful discovery! What a laugh! Charles would surely be devastated, but Caroline's own fears that her naïve brother should entertain the idea of an alliance with the eldest Miss Bennet would finally come to an end.

"Miss Eliza!" cried the lady cheerfully. "And Miss Bennet! How nice to find you here!" Her little eyes danced in excitement; with the greatest curiosity she eyed the gentleman almost pressed to the side of the younger Miss Bennet from head to toes.

Fitzwilliam noticed the lady was dying for an introduction but could not account for Elizabeth's hesitancy to make one. In the end he bowed gallantly to the lady, "Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at your service, madam."

"Oh, forgive me, Colonel. How rude of me! May I introduce you to Miss Caroline Bingley?"

"It is a pleasure."

"Fitzwilliam?" she cried visibly surprised. "Are you related to the Earl of Matlock by any chance?" Nothing could please Miss Bingley more than bragging about her superior connections. But of course, she imagined the officer to be completely unrelated to the distinguished House of Matlock, but nonetheless she would not miss an opportunity to show off her acquaintance, however slight this might be, with a noble family.

"Are you acquainted with the Earl?" inquired the Colonel.

Caroline could not be more pleased with the question. Giving herself great airs she announced with great pride: "Oh yes. I have had the pleasure to dine at the same table with his Lordship on various occasions. My dear friend Mr Darcy of Pemberley is his nephew and he has issued an invitation for my brother Charles and me whenever his honourable uncle has been in attendance in his townhouse."

Eliza blushed at her impertinency. Her dear friend, Mr Darcy? Goodness, she was showing off!

"Darcy is your friend? Then I daresay you are my friend, too," he replied with great alacrity.

Compleatly unaware of whom she was addressing, Miss Bingley beheld the Colonel with great bewilderment. Seeing her obvious puzzlement the Colonel readily explained, "Darcy is my dear cousin and friend, and the earl my dear father," he explained as he indicated the badge bearing the Matlock coat of arms that he was wearing on his coat.

Now, that intelligence was utterly unexpected; certainly too much for Miss Bingley's comprehension. The poor lady's mind swayed between disbelief and embarrassment. When she finally came to terms with the revelation, she sincerely wished the earth had opened up and swallowed her in an instant. How on earth could she have imagined the relation? By Jove! Never in her wildest dream would she have expected to find the Miss Bennets so well connected! After all, what could the son of an Earl be doing with the hand of that spiteful country nobody on the crook of his arm?

With no little effort, she managed to conceal her befuddlement and contrived to utter an appropriate answer. "Oh, I am delighted to make the acquaintance, sir," she finally attempted to say barely catching her breath.

"So you must be Charles Bingley's sister, am I mistaken?"

"Indeed, you are not." A tinge of pride blossomed on her countenance at the discovery the Earl's son knew her brother's name.

"And may I inquire after your brother?"

"Oh, he is ... he is ... he must be at home now. He had already seen tonight's performance."

"I should be pleased to make his acquaintance. May I be so bold as to extend an invitation for you and your brother for some refreshments one of these days? My father will be too pleased to see you again, I am sure."

By now Caroline's crimson defied a lobster's. Still, even in the intelligence that the Earl would have no idea who she was, she could not think of an excuse to refuse the Colonel's invitation. "I would be honoured," she breathed.

"Then, that is settled then. Will next Friday afternoon be convenient? I am certain my parents will be delighted."

"Aye ... I must consult with my... with Charles."

"Oh, of course. I understand. You must not concern yourself," he said while handing her a card that he produced from his pocket. "Should your brother be already engaged for next Friday, please send me a note to this address. Otherwise we shall be waiting for you say at...three?"

Caroline nodded demurely. "Till then, sir. Miss Bennet. Miss Eliza," she then cut a short curtsey and was gone without a further word.

Fitzwilliam merely smiled knowingly at his intended. Elizabeth could hardly contain her joy. The Colonel had worked the magic and now Jane would have the opportunity to see Mr Bingley again. Jane was flushed and absolutely disarmed with sweet expectancy. From then on she became entirely another person, found great difficulty in following the thread of the Colonel's conversation and seemed to be lost in thoughts, building castles in the air.

Once into the cosiness of the theatre box Fitzwilliam was thrilled to have Elizabeth to himself in such an intimate environment. There was plenty of room in the box, yet in a rapture of possessiveness he sat right beside her, whilst her family sat across from them. Fitzwilliam's heart was overjoyed. There she was, the woman who had conquered his heart, sitting by his side, at the sight of all the eyes of London. Speculations of her tender emotions soon turned the sweetest reality when his hands sought hers in the covertness of their closeness. In the dim light of the theatre, Fitzwilliam could rest his eyes on Elizabeth without fearing causing alarm to Mr and Mrs Gardiner. He was thus engaged when he noticed the fan slip from Elizabeth's grip and fall with a light thud upon the floor next to his right foot. He promptly reached for it; at the same time she did exactly the same, their heads almost colliding, so close to each other that he could feel her tantalising breath. With the brusque movement, most unconsciously, his lips brushed her warm cheek in the lightest of kisses. The touch sent such sensual shivers down their bodies that both of them found it very difficult to resume their seats in composure.

Upon returning to his lodging, Richard Fitzwilliam could barely contain himself of joy and pride. The certainty of her tender feelings had sent him to Heaven and back. He lay awake for hours back in his paternal home, replaying Elizabeth's image as she closed her eyes after the unexpected touch, her features he had come to know so well in his mind he seemed to behold them in the intimacy of his bedroom; reassessing every word that had been uttered whilst in her company, tasting again and again the sheer sensation of the feathered kiss they had shared in the dark, Fitzwilliam found himself sleepless the whole night.

At his fencing club, Fitzwilliam Darcy was giving his fellow fencer a hard time. With a brusque movement, he swayed his sword and disarmed his opponent.

"Touché."

Mr Lawrence, the master of the club, bowed politely.

"A clear victory, Mr Darcy."

"I thank you."

"Shall I see you next week?"

"Yes. I shall be staying in London for a while."

"Very well, sir. Have a good day"

"Thank you, Goodbye"

Scarcely had his fencing exercise finished, when the same thoughts he had been seeking to erase from his mind with the sporting exertion returned with the same violence. Elizabeth's face as she assured him that he would be the last man in the world that she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. He pursed his lips and cursed inwardly. He had to get rid of her phantom at all costs.

"I shall conquer this," he muttered to himself. "I shall."

Much as he wished to, Mr Darcy could not erase Miss Bennet's angry face from his mind. He had felt her resentment even the morning after his disastrous proposal, when upon finding her in the grove he had handed her his letter. Upon reflection Darcy reckoned he had written it in considerable distress and the contents of his missive might have reflected just that. He wished he could make amends for his tactless writing, but under the present circumstances he found it impossible. If only her opinion of him had changed a little! But if he could not change that, he could at least correct one of the offences lay at his door.

With a decided step, Darcy left his fencing club and instructed the driver of his carriage to take him to Mr Bingley's house.

He found Bingley alone, his sisters and Mr Hurst still in bed. Bingley was, if surprised, pleased to see his friend. Darcy took a seat and begged Bingley to listen to him without interruption. This he did without protest, only at the end of Darcy's speech, Bingley found it difficult to remain aloof.

"You mean you hid all this from me, on account of your ...your..."

"Friendship. I am sorry. I realised now I should have never done that. Do you think you can forgive me?"

Bingley's face was exceedingly red with anger. Still, he knew Darcy had not meant to cause him any harm. With Herculean effort, Bingley schooled his emotions into submission and directed his thoughts towards what really mattered, "Are you sure I have not lost Miss Bennet's regard?"

"I am. Miss Elizabeth told me so. She certainly knows her sister's nature and feelings better than me."

"And do I have your approval now?"

"Do you need my approval?"

"No. But still. Do you approve?"

"I do if you do."

"I do."

"So what are you waiting for?"

Bingley bowed with great excitement. "Will you come with me?"

"I shall."

That very morning, Darcy and a much excited Bingley rushed towards the Gardiner's house. Before knocking at the door, Bingley inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Darcy nodded encouragingly, and using his walking stick, he called at the small door at Gracechurch Street.

The servant announced the names of the gentlemen and Miss Bennet and her sister rose to their feet, their faces instantly blushed in complete befuddlement.

"Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy," the girls cut a short curtsey.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," the gentlemen bowed politely.

A moment later Mr Bingley proposed a stroll in the park, to which the girls accepted, Miss Bennet with great anticipation, Miss Elizabeth with excessive embarrassment.

Little by little, Bingley and Jane lingered behind until Miss Elizabeth and Mr Darcy found themselves walking the park on their own.

"I believe congratulations are the order of the day, am I mistaken?"

Darcy imagined she was speaking of Bingley and Jane, thus he answered in an animated manner, "I imagine we shall have to wait until we see their faces again. They seem to have lost us."

"I was referring to you and Miss De Bourgh."

"I beg your pardon?" he replied not a little surprised.

"Mr Darcy, there is no need for you to hide it from me. I have already read about your engagement in the Gazette," she said as she sent a cursory look at his face.

"I am sorry Miss Bennet. I know not what you are talking of." Elizabeth puffed with annoyance. Insufferable man! Was he trying to fool her? Did she think her irremediably stupid? But on second thought she imagined that the selected topic might be rather awkward due to their circumstances. Perhaps Mr Darcy found the whole affair embarrassing. After all he must have become engaged to his cousin a few days after his ill conceived proposal in the parsonage!

"Mr Darcy. I am talking about your recent engagement to your cousin, Miss Anne. I read about it only two weeks ago." Mr Darcy bore a look of utter befuddlement. He seemed to be at a complete loss of mind as if he had no idea what she was talking of.

"Madam, there must be some mistake. I am not engaged to my cousin Anne; the last time I addressed a young lady as regards matrimony we both witnessed it."

Colour immediately invaded Elizabeth's cheeks. Why was he not being honest with her?

"Are you sure it was my name and my cousin's you saw in the Gazette?" he inquired.

"I am positive, sir." Elizabeth surveyed his countenance with increased interest. A puzzled frown creased his forehead. He raked his hair nervously.

"Then I shall have to find out the source of such an announcement. I am all astonishment. I've never heard of such an irregular situation before." Seeing Elizabeth was exceedingly confused, Darcy reasoned she must have thought he was feigning innocence. His face reflected great urgency when he addressed her next, "Surely you cannot believe me so inconstant as to declare myself in love with a lady one day and become engaged to another the following day!"

Elizabeth's embarrassment was beyond expression. Indeed, she had thought him inconstant enough. Truth be told, she did find his comportment rather irregular, if not out of character. But she was so used to thinking ill of him; she merely surmised inconstancy must have been another of his many faults. Serves you right. You raised the topic!

"For decades it has been my aunt's wish, Lady Catherine's that is, I grant you. But it is not my wish. Perhaps the announcement is some kind of stupid hoax. Was it not published on April's fool day ?"

Elizabeth gasped in sudden comprehension. "My word! What a horrid thing to happen! Why would anyone do such a thoughtless thing?"

"It takes all sorts to make a world, Miss Bennet. I shall go the Gazette office directly to have the rumours universally contradicted. What must you have thought of me!"

"Mr Darcy , you must know..."

"Madam, I completely comprehend your feelings. But I assure you. I am not engaged to my cousin. Never will. I do not love her, nor does she love me. You must know I despise alliances in which the intervening parts do not feel genuine affection for each other. Believe me I know the evils of matrimonies of convenience, and regardless of the common establishment of society in general, I am determined to marry the woman I love." He sent her a longing look at which Elizabeth did not fail to tremble with unknown emotion. He still loved her? After all the offence she had inflicted on him with her blind, partial, prejudice? The tumult of her mind was now painfully great.

"Sir, this is most embarrassing."

"Do you wish to return to your aunt's house, Miss Bennet? If you do not feel comfortable in my company we can simply turn back."

"It is not your company what really embarrasses me."

"I daresay my company must be a punishment to you."

He voiced this in such a lamenting tone, that Elizabeth's heart sank within her chest. Poor Mr Darcy! She really thought she had gone too far with him. No man deserved so much mistreatment. After all, she had already changed her mind as regards his character. No, he was not wholly bad. He could be dull, and too serious, and haughty and aloof, but he was perfectly gentlemanlike among his friends and really cared for those he loved. She had learned as much in his letter. "Oh, no, Mr Darcy! Not at all! I do not consider it a punishment to walk in your company, sir."

"Miss Bennet. I know of your abhorrence of me."

"Sir," she protested with great feeling. "You must forgive me for my harsh words on occasion of ...our conversation in Hunsford. I understand I was holding you in complete disregard and made you a great injustice in so doing. I who had always praised myself of being a connoisseur of character and people's minds! Until I read your letter, sir, I did not know myself."

Darcy looked at her with such love that Elizabeth could no longer hold his gaze. He noticed her embarrassment and immediately averted his eyes. She went on, "To think I misjudged your character so badly, sir! It is unpardonable. After all you have done for Jane!"

"I am afraid that in relation to your sister and my friend Bingley I acted in a very rushed manner. But you provided me with new intelligence regarding your sister's feelings and I simply informed my friend about them. The rest now is in their hands. But of course, I had to make amends with you."

"You are too good. But indeed you are mistaken. It is I who should be making amends."

"Very well. We are both completely forgiven." She smiled and Darcy could have drowned in her smile. The excitement in finding her receptive to his attentions made Darcy's heart thump and pump blood wildly, his mind racing with possibilities. Was she better disposed towards him, now? Had his letter affected her so much?

As if she was reading his mind, Elizabeth confessed, "Your letter, sir, was very explicit. I must say I found it very enlightening."

"I hope you did not find it too offensive."

"Offensive, sir?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "No, sir, not offensive. There were parts in which I wished you were mistaken, but I am afraid all that you asserted was nothing but the truth. I must confess it took me some time to come to terms with this new information. But if anything I felt honoured for your trust in me."

"Miss Bennet. That I do."

"You must know I will not break your confidence, sir."

"Indeed, Miss Bennet. I completely trust in you."

A deadly silence took over afterwards; neither of them knew what to say. In the end Elizabeth remembered to ask him about Miss Georgiana, a topic she knew was both neutral and pleasing.

When they finally found no more to say, Darcy, perceiving her great discomfort, offered to sit on a bench near a small pond. He then cleared his throat, speaking with great seriousness, addressed the difficult subject of his proposal.

"Madam, you are a very intelligent person. I thus entreat you to consider listening to me for there is a pressing matter that needs to be addressed and I would find it exceedingly painful to explain myself unless you allow me the liberty of speaking at length." She nodded demurely. "Very well, then. You must have already perceived that I have reconsidered my words in my proposal of marriage and found them terribly wanting."

"Mr Darcy, I ..."

"No, please. I must say this. You must know Miss Bennet, my feelings remain unchanged. I understand yours must be too. After all, the violence of your rejection persuades me it will take more that a letter to touch your heart..."

"Mr Darcy..."

"Please, let me finish. As I told you I still feel a deep attachment towards your person. A strong attachment, I must confess. However, it is not in my mind to offer you my hand again, at least not presently. But I must beg you, Miss Bennet, if I am not taking too many liberties, to be so kind so as to allow me the privilege of getting better acquainted with you."

"Mr Darcy, I cannot...

"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Bennet. I do not mean to court you just now. Perhaps, if after you get to know me better, you will find my character tolerable; in that case, I will dare to ask you for the privilege to court you. But for the time being, I shall be content if you allow me to be your friend."

"My friend?"

"Is that too much too ask?"

"No, no, of course not. I must thank you. Still, I do not deserve your offer of friendship."

"Madam, to me you are the most deserving of creatures."

"Mr Darcy..."

"You must pardon the freedom with which I speak to you. My feelings demand it."

"Mr Darcy, you must know my feelings are unchanged as regards your offer of marriage. However, I no longer feel the...I think very highly of you, sir. I am ashamed of what I told you that evening at the parsonage, and certainly I have been blind by prejudices. Please, accept my apologies."

"There is no need, madam. You have said nothing but the truth. I have been terribly proud in my interaction with you. Such presumptions I had! The manner of my address! Miss Bennet, you must know that I have been meditating on your words. They have tortured me constantly day and night. But your reproofs have not been in vain. So you see, there is nothing to apologise for. Quite the contrary, I must be grateful, for you have shown me, through humbling me that I was in great need of changing my character."

Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. Could it be possible that she had affected the gentleman so much? Was Mr Darcy really determined to change for her sake? This was a completely different man from the Mr Darcy she knew.

"So. What say you? Could you and I be friends?"

"Indeed, sir. I have no objections to your friendship."

"Very well. I am satisfied for the time being."

Elizabeth blushed profoundly. He was satisfied for the time being! Did that mean he would not be satisfied in a near future? Apparently, yes. What would he say if he knew Colonel Fitzwilliam was already courting her? It was imperative that she were sincere with him.

"Speaking of friends, I have seen Colonel Fitzwilliam here in London. Have you not seen him?"

"Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes. I met him one day while walking in Bond Street. He was so kind as to invite Jane and I and the Gardiners to his family box at the theatre. We watched a delightful play last night."

"The theatre? I see. Have you seen my cousin much?"

"Oh yes. Colonel Fitzwilliam has been visiting us quite often these days," she sent him a sheepish smile and Darcy understood his cousin had declared war bur had inform his opponent.

"In that case I think I have a fair idea who might have put that announcement in the Gazette."

"You presume Colonel Fitzwilliam has done it?"

"I am quite certain."

"My word! This is highly irregular. I will not have it! Fitzwilliam would have never...he could not have..." and then a nervous laugh escaped her lips. What a wicked, cheeky man! He almost had me! If he is capable of such shameless comportment, I daresay his intentions might not be so serious after all!

"I see. I take it you have welcomed my cousin's visits?" Darcy asked tentatively.

That was a difficult question. If she said yes, he would perhaps understand the colonel and she had an understanding; if she said no, he might take her words as an encouragement to his suit. The difficulty resided that she no longer knew what she wished.

"Your cousin can be very persuasive, sir," she smiled sweetly.

"How persuasive can he be, Miss Bennet?" he asked with unconcealed alarm.

"Oh, that is not a question to ask a lady, sir."

"Miss Bennet. You are too generous to trifle with me. If you have arrived at an understanding with my cousin, you must say so at once. You know I wish to court you and marry you. But I am no mouse for any lady's game of cat and mouse." He rose to his feet and put his hat on, his features in great discomfiture.

Elizabeth smiled mischievously. Incredibly as it might seem, she was beginning to like the man. He was so vulnerable! In perceiving the power she had over him she felt overwhelmed. Fidgeting in her seat, she lowered her face to hide her mirth. When she finally conquered her merriment she rose and walked towards him. He was looking at the pond with great determination. "I have never noticed such passion in you, sir. But then again, I should have imagined."

"You must excuse me. I know not what came over me."

"Well then. You must rest assure, sir. No understanding exists between Fitzwilliam and me. He merely asked to call on me."

"And what have you said to him?"

"I have accepted, sir. But there is no commitment on either part. We are simply getting better acquainted. He is merely a good friend."

Darcy approached her, his eyes piercing hers. "I do not understand. What are you saying?"

"I am saying that your cousin is only a good friend. And I dare say that after our little tête-à-tête today, your friendship will be as welcome as Colonel Fitzwilliam's."

The broadest of smiles blossomed on his face. That was all he needed to know. With renewed hope he took her hand, placed it in the crook of his arm, and invited her to follow him.

"Very well, Miss Bennet. Let us find your sister and my friend. I am sure they must have arrived at an understanding by now."

He was not mistaken. Neither Jane nor Bingley could hide the intense emotion on their countenances. They were engaged and wanted everyone to know directly.

"Congratulations, Miss Bennet, Bingley." Darcy shook hands with both of them. Elizabeth hugged her sister with great affection. Such was her happiness that she did not realise she was pressing Mr Darcy's arm with great eagerness. The gentleman would not attempt to persuade her to release her grip.

Mrs Gardiner glanced at the mantel clock and solicitously surveyed Gracechurch Street from behind a curtain in her house. She had seen her two nieces go to the park with a pair of gentlemen of their acquaintance. One of them a well known suitor of her eldest niece, the other a reputed ill tempered young man whose pride and haughtiness had given him such a bad name as to reach her ears when visiting Longbourn for Christmas, long after said gentleman had quitted the surroundings of Hertfordshire. Of course, Madeline Gardiner was not worried about the girls' physical integrity, but rather she was anxious to see if Mr Bingley had finally accomplished the long delayed proposal and at the same time wished to disengage her younger niece from the obligation to keep the company of such a disagreeable fellow as Mr Darcy.

Much was her confusion, however, when upon the young people's return Mrs Gardiner did not fail to notice, not one but two enamoured couples.

An absolutely besotted Bingley arrived back from the walk in the park and yet another unmistakably enamoured gentleman followed him. Indeed, Mr Darcy bore such a look of utter enchantment when glancing at Miss Elizabeth that Mrs Gardiner wondered if she had not mistaken him for another gentleman. But alas! No. Elizabeth had described him in great detail. It was him. The disagreeable, pompous, insufferable fellow Elizabeth despised more than anyone or anything on earth. Yet was Lizzy not blushing uncontrollably under his gaze? Had she not sent him a most encouraging look just now? This was strange indeed.

A few minutes ere their return, Mr Darcy had enjoyed himself exceedingly well in the company of his beloved lady. Contrary to Elizabeth's expectations, he proved to be a great conversationalist and entertained her exceedingly well with tales of his youth and descriptions of his home in Derbyshire. Genuinely diverted, Elizabeth laughed and conversed animatedly with the once loathed gentleman.

After an extensive tête a tête, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth finally found Mr Bingley and Jane sitting on a small bench in a clearing, quietly conversing in an intimate posture. A single look at their beaming faces told them the gentleman had finally popped the question. Elizabeth was excessively happy to see her beloved sister finally engaged to her beau. Such was her excitement, that Elizabeth did not realise that in reaching Jane she had pressed her body against Mr Darcy who, in turn, ended somewhat sandwiched between the two of them. The situation did not bother the gentleman in the least, but left him flushed and pretty excited by the lady's closeness. Then again while walking back towards Cheapside, Elizabeth had dipped her hand with great confidence in the crook of Darcy's arm and once or twice leant against his shoulder with a pensive smile on her lips. The sensation such intimacy afforded him; the pleasure of her touch in general left the gentleman wild with elation. Would she not agree to be his bride in a near future?

Happiness notwithstanding, Mr Darcy was having serious problems in fighting his manly instincts. Miss Elizabeth's presence so close to him was eliciting a decidedly sensual reaction from every inch of tissue in his body. The exquisite sensation was not unwelcome yet extremely unsettling. Did she not know what she did to him? Probably not. To make matters worse, the heat of the day combined with the vigorous walk had caused all of them to perspire considerably. Far from offensive, Mr Darcy found Miss Elizabeth's body odour simply irresistible. He could almost feel her enticing aroma all over him. Decidedly aroused, his mortification was great indeed, for he could not resist the pleasure of her proximity and at the same time was anxious to conceal the evidence of his emotions so conspicuously evident in his breeches.

Once at the Gardiners', while waiting for Bingley, who was having a necessary conversation with the head of the house, Mr Darcy's desperation grew rapidly when Miss Elizabeth approached him, having discarded her coat, now sporting an infamous low cut gown, and a tray of biscuits to go with it. He blushed uncontrollably and after helping himself to a biscuit or two, spent the rest of the call staring sternly at the floor or the ceiling.

Miss Elizabeth would not mistake this look of great discomfort with hauteur. No, no. Not now. She knew perfectly well, from whence his serious demeanour stemmed and could not be more pleased. Thus, ever so playfully, she continued to tease him with flirtatious looks which she cast at him when no one seemed to be looking in their direction. But in fact, Mrs Gardener readily noticed.

Before the gentlemen left, both Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were invited to dine with the girls at the Gardiners' the following day, and Mr Bingley promised to call the next morning for another stroll in the park with his betrothed while a desolate Mr Darcy declared he would be engaged the whole morning. Still, having received all the encouragement that he could have ever wished for, Mr Darcy was inclined to invite both Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth for tea with Miss Darcy on Wednesday. Of course, Mr Bingley would be there too. By the time the gentlemen had left, the girls had secured an agenda full of entertainment so as to keep them busy the whole se'nnight ere their return to Longbourn.

"Oh Jane. I can hardly believe you have finally secured Mr Bingley!" Elizabeth sighed excitedly.

"Secured him?" "Yes," laughed Elizabeth. "Charlotte's terminology for engagement," she answered teasingly. Her sister laughed too and they melted in a sisterly embrace.

"Lizzy. I am so happy. Can one die of happiness? Because if that is possible, then I am bound to die tonight."

"Pray, do not die in my bed!"

"I am sorry you have to put up with Mr Darcy," she sighed in retrospection.

Elizabeth's countenance fell. "Jane. Do not say this."

"Why not?" an intrigued Jane asked.

Elizabeth realised it was time she told her sister the recent events that had taken place at Hunsford and lately in the park. She began thusly, "Oh, Jane. I have been so blind!"

"What do you mean?"

"I like Mr Darcy, Jane. He is not the disagreeable man I thought he was." She paused to gulp some air. "Jane, he is a good, perfectly amiable gentleman. I know you must believe I have lost my wits, but indeed, I have discovered a completely different man from the one I knew at Netherfield Park."

"But I do not understand. What about what he has done to poor Mr Wickham?"

Elizabeth winced. It pained her pretty much to hear Jane thought so ill of Mr Darcy. After all it was all her doing. "It was a lie. Mr Wickham lied. You see, you were right. He has come to be just as you have told me. Oh dear Jane. I wished I had heard you! He loves me, Jane, and I tried him with such scorn! And yet he loves me still."

"Lizzy. I do not understand. How do you know he loves you? Has he confessed himself thus?"

"He has, Jane. Mr Darcy proposed while we were in Kent."

"Mr Darcy proposed!"

"He did. But I...I most stupidly rejected him."

"Lizzy!"

"Was I too stupid, Jane? I was blinded by prejudices against him. Had I known it was all a lie I would have probably seen him with different eyes."

"And what about Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

"Oh, this is when things get even more complicated."

"You seemed to like him very well yesterday."

"I do. I like him. He is all a gentleman should be."

"But you do not love him."

"I do not know. Both Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are very handsome and amiable. Both have declared themselves in love with me. Of course in the light of Mr Darcy's new found good nature, one would judge Mr Darcy to be the perfect catch!"

"So?"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam makes me laugh."

"I have seen you laugh this evening quite frequently."

"Yes. I have, have I not?" she sighed. "But Fitzwilliam is different. He makes everything sound exciting. There is no end to his merriment. And he is exceedingly romantic. And daring, Jane. He kissed me in the theatre box the other day!"

"Lizzy! That is most irregular! You should not play with that!"

"I did not consent to the kiss. He merely kissed me without warning!" she protested.

"Well, you should restrain him from taking such liberties over you! He could have compromised you, you know. What if he tells his cousin he has kissed you? Men often brag about their conquests in front of other men. "

"Oh he will not. He is a true gentleman."

"Oh yes, nothing less than a gentleman! So much for gentlemanly manners! He is a rake!"

"Oh well. I concede that he is a little wild. But don't you like a rake better than a milksop?"

"Upon my word, I do not. Lizzy, you must understand you should not tempt a man beyond what is decorous and acceptable. And that does not include kisses be them stolen in a theatre box!"

"Next you will tell me Mr Bingley has not kissed you!"

"No, he has not," she said rather put out. "I daresay I would not comply with such shows of affection!"

"Jane, you will be his wife pretty soon. What is wrong with a kiss or two?"

"Lizzy!"

"I am certain even as pompous as Mr Darcy is, he would have kissed me had I encouraged him this little."

"Then you should not encourage him."

"Indeed I shall not. But Colonel Fitzwilliam needed no encouragement, I grant you!"

Now Colonel Fitzwilliam awoke in the same excited state he had gone to bed the day before, both his night and day dreams devoted to Miss Bennet. Unfortunately, he had scarcely slipped into his clothes when his valet confronted him with a letter. It was from his regiment. A new commission signed by Wellington himself. Spain awaited him. In May, Wellington had been promoted to general after the battle of Talavera. But the French had retained the twin fortresses of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, the 'Keys' guarding the roads through the mountain passes into Portugal. Wellington wanted him there.

Fitzwilliam almost jumped out of his boots. A new commission! Just when he had begun toying with the idea of quitting the army and settling down in a snug place in the country somewhere, in a nice hunting area where he could hunt a little and make jolly stout lads with Miss Bennet the rest of the time.

What to do? Will Miss Bennet be willing to marry him now? He had never thought to remain in the army as a married man. He would have to talk about this with her straightaway. If he was to join his regiment so soon, he would have to press his suit a little harder, and be done with it, once and for all. How much longer could it take the lady to make up her mind after all?

He reflected on Darcy for a while. What would be wise to do in a case such as this? Should he apprise him of his courtship? He would have to tell him sooner rather than latter. He must admit Darcy was his favourite relative, almost his brother. He also knew Darcy had always turned to him and only him whenever he had needed advice or comfort. He could not bear an open breech betwixt them. No, he would have to face him and break the news before they reached him from elsewhere. Chances were that he would be wedded to Miss Elizabeth ere long. Surely Darcy would understand. Of course he would not confess the techniques and strategies he had used to win the lady's heart. He would start by their meeting in London.

Now, where was Darcy? They had come to London together, but he had not told him whether he intended to stay or not. Usually Darcy spent the summer at Pemberley with Georgiana. He would ask his mother. Surely she knew of her favourite nephew's whereabouts.

He went downstairs and breakfasted alone before any member of his family popped their nose. Then he cheerfully made his way to Cheapside and paid the so-desired-visit to the Gardiners. Elizabeth was getting ready for his promised stroll in the park.

Jane was not going with Lizzy this morning. She expected a visitor herself (Mr Bingley was not much of an early bird). But Madeleine Gardiner would not leave her niece unchaperoned, especially in the face of such a wolf as Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to be. She had instructed her eldest daughter to follow her cousin at close quarters just in case Elizabeth's gentleman caller might turn too romantic in the park. And so the three of them departed for a stroll in the park.

The fact that they were chaperoned by so young a person helped diminish Richard's passion notably. In lieu of more pleasurable pursuits the lover kept his conversation turning around family affairs. On watching his would-to-be cousin playing with other children in the park, Fitzwilliam began to speculate of his own future children's nature. Yet, after perceiving the crimsoned complexion of his would be betrothed, Richard reckoned the need for a change of subject and proceeded to present her with his most recent resolutions.

"I had meant to quit the Regulars." he said with some longing in his voice. "And may I be enlightened on your reasons to do so?" she pouted.

"You do not wish me to quit?" he asked smirking playfully.

"I am loath to part with your regimentals." She giggled playing with his lapels. "You look ravishing in a red coat". No sooner had she said that than Elizabeth regretted it.

Wanton girl! What must he think of you! I am no better than Lydia!

"My sweet, I would loathe to deprive you of any pleasure. I shall keep my red coat and wear it for you alone any time you wish to satisfy your appetite," he said in reference to the ravishing thing.

Elizabeth blushed, a smirk drawn on her features. "Tell me why it was that you wished to quit your post."

"There is war in Spain and my regiment is to go there any moment now. I received my commission this morning. But now it is too late to quit. I shall have to go."

"Oh!" It was all that Elizabeth would utter.

"I do not wish to be the source of any sorrow for you, Miss Elizabeth. Although, there is little possibility that I should endanger my life, I would rather stay in England with you, and help you in the new experience of becoming my wife."

Elizabeth hated. Looking up to him she asked with feigned indignation, "Sir, are you not too hasty?"

"What say you?"

"Colonel! You are not proposing, are you?"

"Will you not marry me?" he asked passionately.

"I...I..."

"I knew you would say yes."

"No! I mean ...yes...but no!"

"I am sorry I do not understand!"

"Sir, I cannot answer your question just now. I am sorry."

Not a little disappointed Fitzwilliam urged her to give him an answer. "Miss Elizabeth," he said, "I am afraid you must make up your mind soon. I cannot postpone joining my regiment too long. And truth be told I wish to go on a brief honeymoon before going on foreign service. Pray, how long should I wait?"

Elizabeth stared at him with great bewilderment. Make up her mind? Going on a honeymoon? So soon? This was definitely too much.

"Sir, I am all astonishment. I cannot, I mean...I am not sure what to say."

"Say yes, Fitzwilliam. I love you. I shall be your wife."

Elizabeth sighed. That sounded indeed very simple yet she was not sure Fitzwilliam was her perfect match. Her mind raced with all sort of images, wildly building castles in the air. She imagined herself in all sort of unknown places: Spain, Italy, India ... travelling here and there on camels and elephants, sleeping in tents like Aladdin. "And what would we do after the honeymoon?" she asked innocently.

Fitzwilliam bit his lower lip. Had she just used the plural? Indeed she had. That meant one thing: He almost had her. He merely needed to press only a little more and she would say yes. "That is yet to be decided. Any ideas?"

"I hate to confess I am at lost at what we could do. You mean to go to Spain you said?"

"Yes. You could stay in London with my parents, or perhaps with the Gardiners, whatever is your like."

"Could I not go with you?"

Was that a yes?

She quickly added, "I am not giving you an answer. I am merely conjecturing." Fitzwilliam nodded.

"In theory the wife of a soldier follows him everywhere he goes. You could of course come, but I would not have you so close to a battlefield."

"Would we be sleeping in tents?" she asked full of curiosity.

He laughed at her naivety. "No, I am sorry to disappoint you. We would be staying at a hotel. In case there was a fight I would be sleeping in a tent that is for sure."

"But there will not be a fight?"

"I do not know," he said nonchalantly. He did not wish to concern her so much. "All I know is that Wellington wants me to be there. I do not know what my commission will be."

"Will your life not be at risk?"

"I hope not."

Her face went instantly pale. Suddenly it dawned on her that his life would indeed be in danger. He was a soldier. His profession entailed fighting, facing battlefields, canons and gunfire. Trembling like a leaf, Elizabeth became serious and gloomy.

"Elizabeth. You must not concern yourself so much. A man has to do what a man has to do."

"Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed feelingly. "I ... I do not want you to go."

Fitzwilliam's heart melted. Was she suffering for him? Her little face showed great agitation, her dark eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"You must not fear, dearest Elizabeth. My talents at war surpass my charms," he said beaming at her trying to sound cheerful. Despite herself, Elizabeth smiled thinly. In an endeavour to sooth her anxiety he said in jest: "But I like that you worry on my behalf." A solitary tear brimmed over and fell on her cheek. "Pray, do not cry. I will not have you crying." But in true, Fitzwilliam rejoiced in her suffering. If she suffered so much, then evidently she must be in love with him.

"Can you not quit?" she said barely containing her sobs.

"That would be cowardice, milady. I am not going to dishonour my name."

All of a sudden Elizabeth's heart was swelling with pride for the colonel. Should he have asked her again she would have accepted his hand directly. But if he had then we would not have a story to tell.

Mr Darcy was a man of his word, even when honouring it might entail going against his innermost wishes. If he had made a promise, he would keep it ?no matter what. Much as it pained him to leave Miss Bennet unattended, he ?albeit in a black mood ?honoured his meeting with his friend, Mr Bernard Quail. Every so often, however, he had to school his thoughts back from a persistent reverie where his mind had wandered, entirely concentrated on that spot in Gracechurch Street where Miss Elizabeth might be. Fencing was never unwelcome, though. Besides, it would provide his body a necessary escape and, at the same time, cool his breeches, which were in dire need of some sort of release after a whole morning in her enticing presence and in the face of the oncoming soiree at the Gardiners' that evening.

After the fencing exercise, Quail treated Darcy to a copious lunch at the Regent Club in St James's Street: stewed fish, French beans, a bottle of claret and a glass of sherry to wash it all down. To Quail's delight, Darcy's humour was restored after the first sherry.

"Gordon!" Quail called out to a young gentleman in a Sunday suit who had just entered the club accompanied by another neat, though rather dressy gentleman. One single look Darcy gave to the latter, and he instantly catalogued him as decidedly vain.

"I'll be damned if that is not Gordon," Quail said almost to himself. Then he called out again. "Gordon, you old dog! Over here!"

The gentleman by the name of Gordon scarcely looked Quail's way. But upon recognition, he talked secretively into his companion's ear, a thin smile upon his face, and joined Quail and his friend. Darcy noticed that Gordon limped slightly as he walked towards their table, and he immediately recalled his acquaintance from college.

"My dear Quail. It is good to see you again. And Darcy! How odd you are still here in town. What about your adored Pemberley? I pictured you passing the summer season there."

"Gordon. It is good to see you, too. Quite a stranger these days. Been away or something?"

"No. At least not recently."

"Well. What have you been up to then. We have not seen you for ages," exclaimed Quail.

"I know. But somehow, what with one thing or the other, I have not had time for an evening out these last months." Then changing abruptly the subject he asked, "May I introduce you to my good friend, Mr Brummel?" Gordon gestured towards the dressy gentleman.

"How do you do, sir."

Gordon proceeded to the proper introduction. He took delight in the illustriousness of his friends. "This is Mr Darcy from Pemberley Derbyshire and Mr Quail from Southampton. Quail's family has had a seat in Parliament since Magna Carta was signed."

The addressed gentleman bowed majestically in their direction. "How do you do?"

"Mr George Brummel here is a good friend of his Royal Highness," Gordon observed with pleasure.

"Is he, indeed? By Jove! Please, join us. Have you two lunched?" invited Quail liberally. He always enjoyed being in good company, especially if said company were well connected. Gordon would have declined, but he enjoyed teasing Darcy overmuch, and it was spotting him in Quail's company that had induced him to come over and greet them in the first place. He readily agreed. "A glass of claret will do, thank you."

"Of course, my friend. Take a seat!"

A new bottle of claret was ordered and emptied in a wink of an eye. Darcy's mood, so to speak, was excellent.

"So what keeps you here in London, Gordon?" Quail conducted the conversation with great alacrity.

"A lady of course. What else!" was Gordon's happy answer.

"Are you going to be married?"

"Oh no! I am averse to marriage altogether. The lady who keeps me in town is my lover."

"Oh, I see. Is there any such lady for our friend here?" Quail gestured towards Darcy. "He has been in a foul mood all morning."

"Darcy! Are you in need of good company? What do you prefer, dark or blond?"

"I thank you," Darcy answered cheerfully. "You know my views on ladies not always conform to what is popular among you, gentlemen."

"Of course, I already know that. Tell me, old dog, do you still keep faithful to your chaste vows?"

"Indeed, I do."

" So, still lonely, eh? No excitement?" Gordon asked cheekily.

Quail looked at Gordon with round eyes. In an endeavour to pass the question unnoticed he exclaimed, "Well, I'll be blown!" Quail sent daggers at Gordon who merely smiled. Then he tried to change the subject "So I have read in the Gazette you are engaged, Darcy!"

"Nothing father from the truth, Quail. It was some stupid hoax someone played on me on April's fool day. My cousin is a respectable young woman, but we have never dreamed of getting married."

"So, I take you have never made love to a woman yet? asked Gordon boldly. Darcy's astonishment on hearing the impertinent question only furthered Gordon's boldness and the man quickly added in a merry and teasing tone. "You are already a grown man, Darcy. What are you waiting for? Man, you will burst!"

Darcy cleared his throat. He was about to quit the company of the rude gentlemen, when he remembered he was there for Quail's sake. Very reluctantly, he stayed on.

"Are you planning to keep a celibate life, Darcy?"

Darcy's manly feelings were beginning to hurt. And hurt badly. He had struggled to keep his intimate life in secrecy. Gordon was the last man in the world he would trust his love life with. Yet, Darcy had a moment of weakness, and in a vain intent to clear his sexual life from doubts, he voiced what he would have never thought he would say.

"Actually, I am planning to get married soon."

"Oh! That is some news!" cried Quail. "Not your cousin?"

Darcy shook his head.

"So, you have a sweetheart, eh Darcy? But you have not made love to her, have you?"

Made love to her? Did he mean the actual rite? "Well, I...," he began hesitantly.

Quail could not believe the tone of Gordon's words. "Well, I'll be blown!" Exclaimed Quail in astonishment. Gordon kept his mischievous grin on his face. "So you are hooked, Darcy! It is high time, boy. It is high time! And who, may I ask, is the fortunate lady who has captured your attention?"

"You will know in due time," Darcy answered dismissively.

"And you expect a favourable answer?"

"I do."

"You sound quite confident."

"Well, I spent a most pleasant morning in her company yesterday," he said smugly. "I am confident all will go well. She certainly seemed to encourage my suit. But one never knows."

"Are you her only suitor?"

To his own astonishment, he found himself speaking at liberty about Elizabeth. Carefully avoiding the mention of her name, he gave way to his feelings and wishes to flow. After all, that was a manly environment. And was it was not unmanly to talk about one's expectations? Certainly it was not. And Darcy's expectations lay solely with Miss Bennet.

"Ever since I met her, I have known her to be a favourite among gentlemen. Yet, she has already rejected all of them, including me." The last comment was simply a slip of the tongue. He soon regretted the liberty with which he spoke.

"She sounds like a mouser, Darcy; and, I am sorry to tell you, you are the mouse."

Darcy looked at Gordon dumbfounded.

"She is flirting with you, Darcy," he said plainly.

"Flirting?"

"Or tormenting you. As you like it."

"She is a flirt!" agreed Quail. "Curse these missus."

Darcy rose unable to stand the landslide of insults on Miss Elizabeth's character.

"Oh, oh, oh. Come, come, Darcy. We are just trying to be helpful here. A woman in love cannot flirt with other men," exclaimed Gordon.

Resuming his sit, Darcy protested "Not flirt. Not Miss Bennet. She is incapable of that."

"But is she in love with you, or is she not?"

Darcy winced a little. Why was he voicing so intimate secrets to these strangers? Ah yes. He had tried to make a defence of his manly habits plus he had overestimated the amount of alcohol he had instilled into his system.

When Darcy delayed to answer the last question, the gentlemen took his silence as a negative. Quail almost choked with the wine. Exceedingly diverted, he cried, "Goodness. She is a tough one! Rejected you, has she? And you still persevere? Darcy, you are doomed!"

"Take her to some dark corner and make love to her. That will do," suggested Gordon with a chuckle.

"Yes Darcy. That is good advice." Quail found himself saying in agreement with Gordon.

In a confidential tone, Gordon inquired, "You cannot reach your wedding bed still innocent, my friend. You shall have to remedy that immediately."

Darcy coloured. George Gordon, he was beginning to recall, had several bees in his bonnet and one of them was sex. He shook his head and endeavoured to negotiate the unhappy comment by calling out the waiter and asking for a round of coffee. Be that as it may, Gordon would not have him get away with it. He had smelled blood.

"So? You are not in for some female favours? I know of a place. Italian girls."

Darcy became restless with abject discomfort.

"No?"

"Perhaps he is much too in love. No other woman in your life other than your lady, eh Darcy?" jested Quail.

Unable to best the landslide of jokes, Darcy appealed to gentlemanly manners. "Please gentlemen. I must ask you to drop the subject."

"And what is wrong with it, may I ask?" Mr Brummell interjected opening his mouth for the first time. You are not a fastidious puritan, are you?"

"I am not. Still, I am not fond of this thread of conversation, especially when it entails talking about...

"A woman you fancy? And do you suppose a lady of birth and rank does not talk about gentlemen? Sir, I believe you do not know women. My friend here, for example, has recently received a most surprising present from a genteel lady of his acquaintance. You could have never imagined such thing from such a sweet delicate lady. Nonetheless, there you are. The most daring gift ever bestowed upon a man."

Gordon raised one of his eyebrows in a proud smirk.

"What was it?" inquired Quail intrigued. Gordon and Brummell interchanged mischievous smiles.

"Pubic hair." Gordon said smugly.

"Pubic...pubic hair?"

"Pubic hair."

Darcy shook his head dumbfounded. "Mon Dieu!" cried Quail. "Upon my word, I would have never guessed!"

"Neither would anyone who knows her. Such a pretty little thing she is."

"And such love language to go with it," finished Gordon with a grin. He was obviously relishing the moment. "You should have read the letter."

Darcy winced in discomfort. "Not everyone is the same."

"Sir, I am not implying your lady would do anything as daring as Byron's girl. (Brummell knew Gordon as Lord Byron as he was best known at court.) But indeed all ladies expect some sort of...action from the gentleman who woos her. If you want to press your suit, I suggest you show the depth of your affection in a manner that gives no doubt of your manly instincts. She will surely be most...deeply touched by such, I assure you."

Darcy stared at him in silent contemplation. Was Brummell implying he had not behaved manly enough? Could it be that Miss Bennet was expecting more action from him?

"Tell us about her," Lord Byron went on. "Does she live in London?"

Darcy shook his head.

"A country girl? Better and better. Sir, a country girl is used to the joys of haylofts. That is quite normal amongst the folks there. You should give the lady a try. You will see what I mean."

Darcy left the Regent Club looking extremely mawkish and thoroughly confused. The truth was he had never been with a woman in an intimate manner. Not that he had not had the opportunity, mind you. He simply believed it was best for him to remain chaste until he found the woman he truly loved and who could love him in return without reserve. In the face of George Brummell's speech, he had felt an idiotic idealist. Had he not been wasting precious time? Was Miss Elizabeth better acquainted with amorous congress than himself? Knowing Fitzwilliam was around, he would not be surprised if he had attempted to push his suit rather aggressively. Perchance he had even kissed her! With his amour propre greatly damaged, Darcy paced the path in ______ Park that led to his street. Should he...push harder, so to speak?

The idea began to lurk in his mind, torturing him all the way back to his townhouse. Mayhap he should follow Brummell's advice. What would Miss Elizabeth's reaction be if he stole a kiss from her? Would she be thoroughly offended and refuse to speak to him any more? Or would she be willing to share such a blissful exertion with him? The more he pondered the possibility, the more he found it appealing.

Would he be bold enough to try his luck that night? But then his mind recoiled.

Is she perhaps making fun of me? Somehow taking revenge for my previous behaviour towards her family? He shook his head in an endeavour to dismiss the idea. Truth be told, Darcy thought too well of Miss Elizabeth to admit her being resentful. In a dubious and agitated state of mind, he ascended the first steps leading to his door, and stopped there before entering the great parlour. Standing on the landing, he looked at his pocket watch. Do I have time for a nap? He had. He would rest an hour or so before beginning his toilet. Indeed, if George Brummell was a vain man, then Mr Darcy had become as vain as a girl in his endeavour to look his best for Miss Bennet. What in previous days would take him a mere hour, had now turned into a good three: taking his bath, doing his hair (which he usually wore rather untidy), choosing his coat and shinning his boots twice. (Of course, he would never go to the extravagance of shining them with champagne as was Mr Brummell's custom.) Does she think I am handsome? he wondered more than once in front of the mirror. Is she only making game of me? he thought dreamily this time as he flopped on his bed.

Indeed. Was she?

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