The reader must remember where we left our doves the last time (I mean our enamoured Colonel Fitzwilliam and the exceedingly touched Elizabeth). Fitzwilliam was harbouring great expectations as regards Elizabeth's tender feelings. But he dared not repeat his proposal at such short notice but chose to allow her some time to come to terms with her true feelings (which to his own estimation were exceedingly inclined to favour his suit). So the Colonel took his little fiancée to be and his little cousin-to-be to his favourite Pastry's Shop in Charing Cross where they ate ices, and Elizabeth laughed and talked with him in close companionship. With perfect happiness the great dragoon promenaded with the fair lady's satin hand firmly clasped in the crook of his arm, whilst their naïve chaperone skipped gaily ahead. Vowing with extreme elation to passing by acquaintances here and there, Colonel Fitzwilliam become more and more satisfied with the outcome of his little morning outing and his good fortune with every minute they passed together. Every one that saw them walking in this manner instantly took them for a pair of lovers, such was the intimacy with which Fitzwilliam addressed his companion at all moments and such was the increasingly glowing happiness on the lady's countenance.

In spying a flower stand not far from where they were walking Fitzwilliam stopped and bought Elizabeth a small bouquet.

"Oh, Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth said, very much moved. So courteous, so handsome, so perfectly amiable her companion was that she almost forwent prudence and planted a kiss on his cheek. Anyway, she blushed most becomingly whilst her soft white fingers caressed the flowers. Fitzwilliam almost choked with emotion in so discovering such signs of love in her.

Miss Georgiana Darcy seldom ventured outside the realms of her townhouse. Yet this particular morning, she had felt like taking a short stroll in town. Much was her surprise when out of the corner of her eye, she spied her cousin in the act, just as he was handing the small bouquet to the flushed Elizabeth. Her eyes instantly darted to the pair's countenances. For a moment she thought she might have mistaken another gentleman for her cousin. But, Alas, no! It was Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam all right.

In the spur of the moment, she thought to go to him and greet him. However, being a shy creature as she was, she immediately recoiled, for the image her cousin presented to her increasingly discerning eye was of a much-infatuated man hovering over a receptive damoiselle.

When she repaired to her townhouse, however, Georgiana could not wait to pass her brother the intelligence of her unexpected discovery in Charing Cross. With that purpose in mind, she knocked at the door of his study where Darcy was painfully engaged with his correspondence.

"A bouquet, huh?" he repeated after Georgiana had finished her tale.

"Yes. He was being very attentive and courteous. Do you think Richard might be courting her?"

Darcy did not answer. Frown creasing his brow, he began to put the papers scattered on his desk away, meticulously folding some documents into a leather pocket and gingerly opening and closing drawings in his escritoire, absently smothering back his hair between moves, a tic that Georgiana found particularly dreadful since it was clear evidence that her brother had lost patience.

"Are you well? She drawled the last word with concern.

Darcy growled something undistinguishable.

Georgiana knew her brother only too well to discern that his present demeanour invited her to silently retire. With hesitant voice she asked, "Do you intend to supp at home?"

"I do not," was the laconic answer.

"Very well, then. Will you not have some tea at least?"

He nodded in agreement and resumed fumbling with his papers. Georgiana did not know what to make of him. One minute he was the happiest of men, the next he was brooding over some unfathomable problem. Did this have anything to do with Richard? Darcy had been all smiles until she had mentioned her spotting Richard in Charing Cross.

The minute his sister left his study, Darcy flopped himself into his armchair, and sighed, one splayed hand to his brow. "Damn Fitzwilliam! What was I thinking when I introduced him to her?"

Images of Fitzwilliam exchanging pleasantries and grins with his own favourite Miss Bennet assaulted Darcy's mind immediately unleashing the most dreadful feelings. Pangs of jealousy drove his thoughts obsessively towards that spot in Charing Cross where they might still be.

She smiled at him? Georgiana said as much. Blast! Why should I care? Is she anything to me? She is not! And yet she is. She is all that I have ever desired. He banged a clenched fist on the desk causing a wayward vase to fall down and smash against the floor. Curse these vases. Why should there be vases everywhere in this house?

Gordon's words came back mercilessly stabbing his pride, tainting every cherished feeling he had for Miss Bennet. She is playing with you. The little voice chanted in his mind. It is all a sick game. Women are like this. They toy with a man's innermost feelings. Unable to think clearly, he realised the whole affair was little by little building tension between he and his cousin. Was Fitzwilliam aware of all this?

He paused to meditate on his cousin's actions. He could not blame him for falling for Elizabeth. Yet he could not reconcile with the idea that his cousin would keep what was rightfully his. After all, he had met her first, had he not?

Yet tonight, regardless of what his decision about Miss Bennet would be, he was expected at the Gardiners for supper. Bingley would come for him at a quarter past four, and they would go for a drink at White's, Bingley's club, before heading for Gracechurch Street. Darcy knew his friendship with Bingley would be most beneficial in his contest against Richard for Elizabeth's affections, and he promptly considered how to make the most of it.

He checked his pocket watch. It was high time his toilet began. Gad, how he hated all this! London and the dandy life were too demanding for his taste. If it was not for Elizabeth's courtship, he would have been at Pemberley by then and away from the fastidious trendy neckcloths. Only a year before, it used to take him between two and three hours to get properly dressed for a theatre evening, due to the pains his hair style demanded him to take in order to keep his wavy hair neatly under control. But since he had recently had his hair cut, as it was fashionable now, the time had been strikingly reduced. He now wore his unruly curls slightly tousled giving him a casual look to his otherwise pompous figure. This was most becoming, he had noticed as he cast a casual glimpse at himself in the mirror. Yes, definitely better than the camp tail he use to wear before.

The day after he arrived in London from Kent, he visited a new Tailor's Shop, Schweitzer and Davidson on Cork Street, and had some fashionable pantaloons made as was the current style. Darcy had noticed both Gordon and Brummell wearing those at the Regent Club, no French boots, which were quite anti patriotic in the face of the war with France. The breeches would be discarded, then, giving way to more austere wear.

So he chose those, and a pair of black Hessian boots to go with them. A Dark coat, of course, unadorned, but of the most exquisite cut worn over a shirt of the snowiest white and a well starched neckcloth. All the preparation took him a mere two hours. He was quite satisfied.

Elizabeth began her toilet after a most refreshing nap. The morning spent in Colonel Fitzwilliam's company, and after what had transpired had left her absolutely weary. She knew she would have to make up her mind soon. If only she knew what the best choice was!

As the time for Mr Darcy to come approached, Elizabeth became increasingly restless. But this time, Elizabeth was aware that her restlessness did not stem from discomfort. No. She was merely anxious to see him. Mr Darcy was not the dashing Colonel, yet, now revealed as her admirer, Elizabeth looked at him with different eyes. Forgotten was the time in which she regarded him as dull and disagreeable. Now she found him most interesting, even attractive. So imposingly tall, Mr Darcy was by far the handsomest man of her acquaintance. Add to this that she had recently discovered the incredible power she exerted over the man; Elizabeth concluded that was a formulae impossible to disregard.

With her mind still racing due to the unexpected proposal of marriage from Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth commenced to select the perfect gown for her meeting with her best admirer (indeed she reckoned Fitzwilliam was only second best) which proved a daunting exertion. Determined to please the gentleman, she selected various dresses and tried them all several times before making up her mind. The white dress with the pink lace was indeed her favourite. She remembered having worn it while in Netherfield Park and in retrospect, she recalled Mr Darcy paying her great attention while wearing it. The lowcut neckline left a generous portion of her bosom in exhibition, an asset she was always sure to exploit when meriting it. She reckoned this occasion merited it.

Her hair was also given special attention. While taking so many pains, she realised she had not done all this in preparation for Colonel Fitzwilliam's visit. Was that supposed to mean anything? Was she taking so many pains this evening because she admired Mr Darcy more than she admired his cousin? Or was it merely an endeavour to rise to the occasion? Either way there, she was looking her best yet, trembling like a leaf in expectation. When the grand-father clock struck five, Elizabeth heard a carriage stopped at the Gardiners's door and it took her a Herculean effort not to rush to the door to open it. Instead, she stayed placidly composed at her sister's side, and allowed the old servant do his job. She heard Mr Darcy's golden voice in the hall and her heart went aflutter. What did all that mean? As his footsteps echoed in the corridor, she almost rose to her feet in sheer excitement.

And finally, there he was. Despite there was someone else (Mr Bingley) blocking him from her sight, Elizabeth only saw Mr Darcy in his dark suit, looking superiorly handsome. Gad, how could she have been so blind! She cut a short curtsey and smiled her most beautiful smile. But Alas! He did not reciprocate as she expected. Instead, he bowed his head and with a clipped tone, he said in his brasssy voice:

"Miss Elizabeth."

If Elizabeth expected anything from Mr Darcy she was in for disappointment. The gentleman, though so much in love with her, was as proud a man as proud could be and had already had his full share of humiliation. Therefore, he was unable to tolerate the oddity of a shared courtship with his cousin. With a gloomy face that would have scared even Mrs Bennet, he sat, well-groomed, on the edge of a chair, as if he was about to leave at any minute, as pensive as he was remote.

In vain Elizabeth looked at him for signs of love, because unlike Fitzwilliam, when he put his mind to it, Darcy absolutely betrayed nothing. Apparently impervious to her charms, he remained as cool as a cucumber during the whole evening.

Dinner came and then coffee, of course, and Mr Darcy had scarcely uttered the common pleasantries that polite society required in a case such as this, at all times avoiding eye contact with Elizabeth. And yet the more he detached himself, the more Elizabeth doubled her efforts to please him. She persistently directed every word to Darcy who in turn answered her with impeccably drafted sentences that did not fail to vex her exceedingly.

When the time came for Elizabeth to play the piano forte, it was not Mr Darcy who turned the pages for her. To Elizabeth's dismay, her uncle offered to do the job. Oh, what a shameful waste of precious time her search for the perfect low-cut dress had been if Mr Darcy would not rest his piercing eyes on the excess of her décolletage! Elizabeth would not have it. So, after the second song, she begged to be excused, and once the attention to the musical instrument was passed onto the expertise of Mrs Gardiner's hands, who was only too pleased to be able to play for such noble company, she headed for Mr Darcy's hiding place.

Ever so slyly, Elizabeth approached her reluctant suitor. In seeing her come in his direction, Mr Darcy turned to the window and peered out sightlessly.

"Expecting anyone?" she said cheekily.

He directed his gaze to her eyes and then returned to his pastime without an answer.

"Sir, have I done anything to you to deserve so severe a reproach?" "Beg your pardon?"

"You have scarcely looked in my direction let alone answer my repetitive endeavours to engage you in civil conversation. I dare say I must have offended you in some way or other."

"I can scarcely call indifference a reproach."

"Indifference? So you are purposely being indifferent when not a day before you persisted in your constancy? I am sorry if I do not comprehend you, sir. Why did you bother to come at all?"

"It is not my custom to fail to my word once given. As for my constancy, I dare say it is not such which can be doubted, madam."

"So I have offended you."

"You may or you may not."

"What sort of an answer is that? Have I offended you or not?"

"Madam, this is a question that only you can answer."

"How could I ever know? Whatever I have done I did not do it on purpose."

"I must disagree. I say whatever you do you do it quite purposely."

"Are you accusing me of having deliberately offended you?"

He answered something unintelligible.

"I am sorry, sir. I failed to hear you."

"Very well, I must be completely honest with you. Miss Bennet. Reports of an alarming nature reached me this afternoon. You were seen in the company of my cousin in Charing Cross in a very compromising situation."

Elizabeth blinked.

"I must admit I am not entitled in any way to claim your sole company, least of all become your chaperone, but since we have agreed to get to know each other I presumed, wrongly I now see, that you agreed to a conventional courtship." Courtship? She opened her mouth to protest she had agreed to no courtship, but to no avail. He continued without respite. "By this I had supposed that you would accept my company and my cousin's under the appropriate guidance of your family and will not show yourself openly... unchaperoned with ... either of us."

"Have you been following me, Mr Darcy?"

"Heavens, no! My sister Georgiana saw you in Charing Cross."

Elizabeth blushed uncontrollably. His sister of all people!

"She saw when...Suffice it to say that she instantly thought you were one of my cousin's conquests. 'Tis highly irregular! You can imagine my concern. I have contrived after battling against my better judgement to introduce you to my sister tomorrow, and now she has the idea that you and Fitzwilliam are...and in the event of our understanding becoming a more serious attachment ...how can I ever introduce you to her now that you have ...that she has....?" he clenched his jaw unable to finish the sentence.

Mrs Gardiner's song finished just when Mr Darcy was voicing his last words...Hence his question was quite distinguishable for everyone to hear. The whole room turned to look at them, which occasioned Mr Darcy's crimson to defy a redcoat.

"I see." Elizabeth said lamely.

"Miss Bennet, this courtship has come out of my hands," he said with a huff. "To tell you the truth I believe you are quite taken with my cousin, in which case, I would rather step aside. I am afraid I will not be able to continue to further our acquaintance in the present circumstances. I..."

"Mr Darcy, will you not take me to the courtyard for a while? I need some fresh air. This way, sir," she said with an air of importance. If she was to give him an opportunity to win her affections she must silence him at all costs.

Sending a cursory look to the rest of the company, Darcy allowed Elizabeth to guide him to the small courtyard. Elizabeth inhaled profoundly.

"Sir," she began with great composure and dignity. "I was not in any way in a compromising situation with Colonel Fitzwilliam. I do not deserve such censure. Those are heavy charges against me!"

Oh, those bewitching eyes! Darcy remained defenceless in the face of them. "I am sorry, madam. I did not mean to imply that you have fallen into scandalous behaviour," he found himself saying. It was untrue, for he had indeed believed her most maliciously trying to take revenge from him. "Rather I should say that your family has failed to provide you with the appropriate company and you in all your naivety, you have allowed my cousin to expose you in a compromising way. You are, of course, blameless in this matter."

"Sir, that is not the case, I assure you. Your sister is completely deluding you."

"My sister is incapable of deceit!"

"I am not saying that she purposely practiced deceit! Your sister's eyes must have deceived her. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a perfect gentleman all the time, I assure you. Of course he is very different from you, sir. Fitzwilliam is a little wild, I concede you that. But then again, I understand you have always found it difficult to show your emotions."

"Do I? How odd. I thought I was astonished," he said ironically. "Perhaps I am not betraying my emotions as I should," he retorted contemptuously.

"Well, this day is an obvious exception."

"Indeed? I am not concealing my emotions?"

"Sir, as usual your pride comes first. And now you are jealous."

Darcy's pallor betrayed his great discomfort. His grave eyes battled against hers, which were full of amusement at the gentleman's expense, watching him with some kind of recognition he could not reciprocate. "What a perfectly ridiculous suggestion. I am not."

"Proud or jealous?" she inquired with great mirth.

He opened his mouth to retaliate but she cut him short.

"Sir, before you say something you will regret later, allow me to explain the circumstances under which your sister might have seen Fitzwilliam and I, and you will see there is no need for you to be so upset," she said sweetly, almost motherly as she touched his arm with her ungloved hand.

Oh how much his heart desired that! In truth he was ready to believe anything. "Very well," he said and rested his eyes on her with great expectation.

"Did your sister not see my cousin, Margaret, who was taking the stroll with us?"

Darcy coloured.

"I see she did not." Elizabeth ventured to say.

"She did not mention Margaret, no," he admitted.

"No, of course not. It is a pity she did not greet her cousin. In this manner she would have been introduced to Margaret and myself, and none of this would have happened."

"Georgiana is uncommonly shy."

"And prejudiced."

"Perhaps a little, but then again, who is not?"

"Well, then. Now you were saying you do not wish to further our acquaintance. Am I mistaken?" she said while she dipped her hand even further in the crook of his arm.

There she was playing her infamous game with him again. Tossing his heart to the air to see where it landed. He sighed, feeling completely disarmed in the face of a formidable offence. "You take pleasure in revenge and you make good use of the most devastating weapons to inflict pain on your enemies."

"I am not revengeful!" she exclaimed innocently. Then dropping her voice just a little she added, "And you are certainly not my enemy! But you did hurt my feelings a few minutes ago."

"I did, did I not?" he whispered enthralled with her pout. He was about to forgo all claims of conventional courtship he promoted so fiercely. It would only take one movement of his head and...

"You implied I am...infatuated...Those are harsh words to be said to the lady whose affections you intend to gain."

Mr Darcy chuckled. His heart was still pounding. "I am a stupid dupe, am I not?"

"You said so yourself."

God, she had him completely at her mercy! He had never in his life been possessed by such a strong attraction or been so helpless in its spell. The moon lifted itself from behind the clouds, throwing white rays his way as he approached her.

Elizabeth watched him look at her, eyes obligingly resting on her bosom. She smiled and wished he would kiss her just as Richard had done in the theatre box. Something was happening to her that to her excitement and alarm was unable to control. The storm was over. Elizabeth had successfully weathered it and Darcy's features had regained composure. The rage had left him as quickly as it had seized him, to be replaced by a stupid remorse and a shameful desire to kiss and make love to her.

The first he was sure to best. The second...was bound to best him.

Darcy glanced down at his shoes in perfect embarrassment. When he raised his head again, his jet eyes turned towards her as Elizabeth backed under the big chestnut tree in the Gardener's courtyard. Sheltered as she was by the deep shadows the moon cast amongst the branches of the tree, he could distinguish her silhouette but nothing of her countenance. However, he did hear Elizabeth's crystal laugh. What had he done to have summoned that final, provocative laugh, he wondered? Ah yes! He had conceded her he was not as intelligent as he had thought.

"Do you laugh at Fitzwilliam too?" he asked dryly before he could consider how stupid a question it was, tilting his chin up as he spoke, coming a bit closer, his glare accusingly on her face.

Elizabeth looked back at Darcy and gave him a combination shrug and smile. "Oh, no. There is no need. Your cousin, sir, possesses the rare ability to laugh at himself."

That was enough to upset him again. "And what other abilities does he possess?" he asked stiffly.

Again the laugh came out. "You take great interest in you cousin's affairs," she snapped.

Accustomed as he was to the excesses of her teasing, one would have not expected Darcy to retaliate. Unfortunately, when it came to Fitzwilliam, Darcy was sure to lose his wits, jealous as he had grown of him.

"So?" he demanded.

"So?"

"You were about to refer to me the many assets of my cousin's."

She tilted her head up and pulled her lips into a moue that, to Darcy's mind would have subtracted from the beauty of any other lady. But in the case of Elizabeth it rendered her deliciously enticing, for it revealed the fine line of her beloved features and allowed him to admire the redness of her pouted lips as well. He thanked Heavens he was not any nearer lest he should surrender to her allurements and kiss her, pout and all. He thought best to demure, thus, he maintained his safe distance.

Elizabeth took a little time to think of a proper answer, for she relished every opportunity to humble him. At length she said: "There is a limit to a girl's coquetry, sir. Besides, there are certain details about your cousin I would rather not discuss with you, if you do not mind."

Darcy stared at her with apparent perfect composure, but inwardly, her words were daggers effectively stabbing his already injured pride. What were those details she was not desirous to tell? Was it perhaps that Fitzwilliam had already taken some liberties over her? Was his cousin's wooing superior? Darcy's jealousy was stronger than any other feeling he had ever had, thus his perception of what was appropriate to discuss with her or not had diminished considerably; his mind reeling with thoughts of revenge over his cousin, irremediably pulling him to what he feared most. Ridicule.

"I suppose" he continued visibly affected, "because Fitzwilliam has spent so much time with you, turning pages for you at the pianoforte in front of my nose, rattling away like the parrot he is, he has so quickly risen in your estimation."

Her smile blossomed again, and she laughed once more as much at his words as at the awkwardness of his phrasing.

"By Jove!" he shot out with a tremor of anger. "You cannot deny you are laughing at my expense."

Seeing him so decidedly upset, Elizabeth took pity on him. With a look of sweet tenderness she endeavoured to ease his temper, just as she had done a few minutes ago.

"Hush, sir. This behaviour is beneath us. We are having a lover's tiff and we have not yet come to an understanding," her use of the words 'a lover's tiff' effectively catching Darcy's attention.

"I can only imagine what our married life will be like!" she cried merrily. "You will spend half your life scolding me for every smile every time your cousin visits with us!"

Darcy frowned and one could have sworn he was pouting, until he realized she was merely teasing him. He tightened his lips, the trace of a smile playing across them, his dimples conspiratorially appearing on his face.

"Can you imagine Christmas? You will forbid the poor colonel to present me with a gift! And I shall be thoroughly resentful for I just love a Christmas gift! And of course, you will probably forbid mistletoe at all!"

Now this reference to mistletoe did elicit a boyish grin from Mr Darcy. How long until Christmas? Mm. He would make sure there was sufficient holly to hang from every door at Pemberley this year.

"I shall make a note to hang mistletoe everywhere at Pemberley, provided you promise to spend Christmas with us this year."

She blushed most becomingly. "We shall see."

"I am satisfied. But do not expect me to invite Fitzwilliam," he said suddenly becoming serious.

"Poor Colonel! Will he be banned from your society?"

"I cannot risk my position. After all I am second in this race."

"You must know, sir," she added with an expression of openness and honesty, "before you continue sulking, you were the first man I ever...I ever saw."

Darcy remained motionless. His mind could hardly believe his ears. Had she just said what he thought she had just said? "Was I?" he muttered with his heart in his throat.

Elizabeth continued playing her little game, delighted he had once again fallen for it. "Oh yes," she sighed. "But you did not look at me in those days, remember? You thought it beneath you even to dance with me!"

Darcy looked down to his shoes again. "So that is why I am suffering the pain, am I not?"

"Oh, no sir," she promptly said shaking her head in denial. "I would not dare. It is not my intention to make you...suffer the pain as you put it. It is only I must be sure. You did not like me, even despised me once. Hence, I learned to dislike you. Even took great pains to settle myself to the task of hating you. I suppose I did that as a sort of self defence. It was better to convince myself you were not worthy of my affection. Then all of a sudden, when I was determined to be your enemy, you came to me swearing that you loved me and that you wished to marry me. It was all very confusing, sir!"

"I understand."

"I was thoroughly persuaded you despised me."

"I am so sorry for that," he paused to accommodate his thoughts for a moment; then he boldly ventured to ask. "So ...you once liked me?"

"You know I did, well enough...but why speak? Why think? Why look back?"

"You do not like me any more?"

"Why should you think so? Have I not agreed to get to know you? Would I have a gentleman to call on me if I did not like him? But you do puzzle me exceedingly."

Darcy had never been more disconcerted in his life. He was used to be in control of everything and this play she had pulled him into was utterly foreign to him.

"What can I expect, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked with his heart upon his sleeve. "How can you ever forgive me? I understand I was such a stupid ass. You do well in punishing me."

Elizabeth noticed he was about to be sad. She decided he had had enough for the day, so she smiled warmly and held up one little finger, motioning Darcy to come over where she was standing. "Mr Darcy..." she endeavoured to cajole him. "Will you not sit here with me?" she gestured towards a bench conveniently placed sheltered under the tree. "Please...Let us not speak of the past, shall we?"

The silver moon poured down on her gown; off in the distance, an owl hooted repeatedly. It was a hot evening, and Darcy's necktie was beginning to bother him.

He obliged her and smiled ruefully, but nonetheless did not feel comfortable. He was beginning to realize the rules of her game, and did not truly enjoy it. "There. Is it not a beautiful evening?" she asked waving away their previous conversation, and with it, the phantom of the colonel.

"Indeed it is," he conceded thoughtfully. Off ahead of them a chorus of frogs sang joyfully; the rich scent of lavender and of their bodies in the heat of summer filled the air. A long, unwanted pause followed.

"It is hot," he said with a sigh. She nodded and was silent. "Now it is your turn to say something, Miss Bennet."

"I suppose we can discuss books now, since we are not dancing."

"I have not read anything new," he confessed dismissingly. Much as he loved the exertion, reading books was not what he had recently had in his mind.

"No books," she said thoughtfully. She paused for a moment and just as quickly charged again. "Well, then. You must allow me to pick an unusual topic of conversation." There was a tinge of amusement in her voice and Darcy's curiosity was picked.

"Pray, proceed with it, if you please."

"Very well, then. Be not alarmed though. I need your advice on a very intimate topic."

"By all means, I shall be happy to be of help," he said as he looked at her with rapture.

Elizabeth glanced at him saucily and asked "Pray tell me. What shall I wear for you, sir?"

Darcy sent her a quizzical look. What could she possible mean by such a question? Wear? When? At their wedding night?

"I beg your pardon?" he asked not a little disconcerted. "It is my wish to please you, sir, to make amends. After all, I must please you since I am to be your guest. What would you have me wear for tea on Wednesday?"

Oh that...Albeit the question had taken him by surprise, the fact that she asked him his opinion on her gowns was quite flattering. Did she really mean she would dress according to his request? A smile of considerable richness blossomed on his lips.

"Any of your dresses will do, madam."

"Oh, I hope you told me what your preference is. I am afraid I am not in possession of a varied wardrobe, Mr Darcy. I daresay you have seen me in all my gowns by now. Pray tell me, which of them is of your liking? I shall wear it for you on Wednesday. Or is it that you do not like my dresses?"

Ever so slyly she was extricating information from him as regards his tastes and likes. Darcy blushed despised himself. Oh, he liked her dresses very well. But he liked what they contain much better. Indeed, he dreamed of peeling off each layer of her gowns until every inch of her white skin was exposed to his hungry eyes. But of course, he said nothing of this to her. "I like this dress you are wearing this evening very well. I remember you wearing it at Netherfield Park's drawing room. It was the first night of your stay there, if I recall well."

It was Elizabeth's turn to blush now. Indeed, she had chosen that dress expressly, knowing too well he would remember her wearing it on that occasion.

Ever so fetchingly, Elizabeth leaned against the hardness of the tree, her little feet dangling back and forth. "And my hair? What shall I do to my hair?"

This was a dangerous game she was playing. Boldly, his hand reached out a stray lock. He loved her hair. He loved all of her.

"I like it loosen. The way you wear it at night, when you go to bed." Had he said that aloud? Most certainly he had. Hardly had he finished his sentence when every improper feeling and veneration he felt for her, invaded him, and momentarily he lost control of his thoughts and his words, his blood rushing to his loins; the sweet pulse of an arousal bourgeoning within his pantaloons.

Elizabeth's eyes widened and words escaped her. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Excitement notwithstanding, sitting across her dark eyes was all he could wish for, words never being of great importance for him to feel comfortable with her. He knew she would carry on the whole conversation on her own if needed be. But in the short while silence persevered, Darcy dared to dream with her company as his wife, envisioning Elizabeth as the Mistress of Pemberley, beautifully adorned for him to bask in her many assets, waiting for him in all the glory of her youth, her seduction in his bedchamber. Gad! How much he desired her!

She pushed at a lock of hair with the back of her hand, probably unconscious of how every movement of hers affected him. His mind swiftly projected his imagination to that night in which, once properly married, he would make her his. She would be wearing a beautiful gown, especially made for their wedding night, of course, but her fine countenance, surrounded by the cloud of dark curls that would fall to her shoulders would be reflecting the pale halo of the moon, just as that night.

He pulled himself back from his reverie, and looked down at her, ever so slowly leaning over her almost imperceptibly. He did not know why or how he had come so close to her; in truth he was perfectly aware of the futility of giving in to passion, but despite all the plausible reasons that had hitherto restrained him from surrendering to the seduction of her lips were perfectly logical, the next moment he was kissing her with such heady confidence and abandon as he had never imagined he was capable of.

But he was doing more. As if endowed with will of their own, his hands roamed the delicate skin of her shoulders, sending such shivers through her spine, such pleasurable emotions, such warmth as she had scarcely conceived she could possible feel.

It was impossible to tell if Mr Darcy's delight in being so agreeably engaged with the lady resulted from the low-cut Miss Bennet had decided to wear that night ~which, had he chosen to take such liberties, were now, as he kissed her, affording him considerable access to her ample bosom; or the wonderful sensation of his lips, nay, his tongue, tasting her mouth with abandon; or from the fact that his blood had rushed down to his loins thus awaking every tissue in his body. Regardless of the reason, he took immense delight in the three of them, and for a brief moment in which he was able to think coherently, he thought to make note of the date and the hour in which he had conquered the right to be so intimate with Miss Bennet.

Whilst they were kissing, however, the door leading to the courtyard opened ever a little. Indeed Mrs Gardener had finished playing, but, of course, Darcy and Elizabeth were completely unaware of that. Miss Jane, had been sent to see to the missing couple, Mr Bingley following her closely behind, but when this latter held the door open in a gentlemanly gesture towards his fiancée, he immediately perceived the pursuits in which his friend and his sister in prospect had engaged themselves. He kept a hold of the handle of the door and turning quickly, he motioned Jane in the opposite direction.

But it was too late. Bingley's flushed face spoke for him. He had witnessed the scene and Jane understood something out of the ordinary was happening in the courtyard. Though he was not the kind of man who would spread this sort of things, his first thoughts were that Darcy had proposed, and being accepted, they were merely sealing their understanding with a kiss. Judging by the position of their bodies it was an exceedingly warm kiss.

Mr Bingley wished he had been just as bold.

But Jane did not seem to approve of kisses, for when he had hinted to kiss her she had turned uncommonly flushed and decidedly upset.

"Will you not go out?" Jane inquired a little concerned. Albeit Bingley knew it was his duty to put a stop to Darcy's uncommon behaviour, he found the sole idea to confront his friend almost unbearable. Was not Darcy his closest friend, his mentor?

"I ... I ..."

"What?

"Do you not feel like dancing a reel? We could ask Mrs Gardiner..."

Jane scowled him with glacier eyes, "I think we should join them, Charles."

"Of course. Yes. As always you are right."

Meantime, oblivious to the uproar they had caused in Bingley's mind, Darcy and Elizabeth ended the kiss. Flushed and shivering with emotion, Elizabeth found herself unwilling to open her eyes.

When she finally opened them, Darcy was still holding her, his arms wrapping her waist in a zealous embrace. "I am sorry. I know not what came over me. I apologize." Yet not a little did he loosen his tight hold of her.

"Will you always kiss me like so?" she sighed still relishing the exertion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Will you always kiss me like so?" she sighed eyes half closed, still relishing the exertion.

I beg your pardon? Was she asking him for more? "I will. Every single day of our lives, Elizabeth."

"Sir. That is quite a promise. Do you mean you will kiss me like so even after I have grown old and wrinkled, not to mention fat?"

"As long you accept my hand, Elizabeth. I promise I will kiss you every single day of our lives."

"Now you are changing your word. Do you mean kiss me like you have done just now or a mere chaste kiss on my brow?"

"I cannot be chaste when it comes to kissing you, Elizabeth." He was blushing furiously, his loins to the point of pain. He could not believe the tone of their conversation nor the actions he was foreseeing with her.

Elizabeth giggled excitedly. "Sir, I hardly know you! So serious you have always been. And now...I am all astonishment. Who are you, sir?"

"If only you will allow me to show you...there is a so much about me you still do not know."

"Very well. I guess I will soon know, will I not?"

"You just have to come and see for yourself. I promise I will be an open book."

"I believe you have been open enough for the time been, Mr Darcy. What will Colonel Fitzwilliam say if he learned what you have done."

"You will not kiss my cousin?" he exclaimed alarmed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I cannot accept, madam, that you will allow my cousin similar liberties as you have allowed me. It is inconceivable. Pray, promise me you will not..."

"Mr Darcy, I believe you are going too far in your presumptions. It is not gentlemanly of you to ask me..." She was thoroughly offended. What was he implying? "You are not my betrothed, not my brother, nor my father, to be entailed to such information. Pray, do not raise the subject any more."

"I am sorry."

"You should be."

"It is only that?"

"Pray, Mr Darcy, drop the subject. It is most ungenerous of you to continue with this tone. I am most disappointed in you, sir. I have believed you to be more mature."

"You do not understand, Miss Bennet. I am a very possessive man. I fear that kissing you has imprinted on me the sensation that you no longer belong to anyone else but me. If I ever know you have kissed my cousin, I shall go mad." And to imprint on her the manner of his devotion, he took her in his arms again and kissed her with exceeding urgency.

Indeed Mr Darcy could not believe his own hands. Was he holding Miss Bennet as if they were properly engaged? Had he just exacted a most delightful favour from the lady, twice?

On breaking the kiss, they both felt an incredibly urgent necessity to start afresh. Elizabeth, almost voiced her desire to be kissed again. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. There were butterflies in her stomach and a lurching sensation in the confinements of her womanly portal. Goodness, it felt so good! Mr Darcy's mouth tasted delicious! She could hardly contain herself from leaping onto his lap and bestowing upon him a generous kiss on his lips. Instead, she let out a sonorous sigh.

the face of such encouragement, there was little he could do but oblige her. Was he not dying to experience the moment again as well? Without giving the matter a second thought, Mr Darcy finally responded to the call of his emotions with a fresh kiss that left the pleasantly surprised Elizabeth breathless. Oh! Such flutters! She shivered and trembled without the slightest gust of wind. But she was not cold. Not at all! Quite the contrary! She would have sworn she was sitting on fire.

Elizabeth, hardly hiding a lovesick look, most improper coming from a lady, eyes half closed, lips half open, eagerly awaited Mr Darcy's new round of affection with great expectation. She drew herself a little closer to his body, thus encouraging the gentleman to proceed. However, Mr Darcy's innate lover was fiercely battling with his own better judgement, which suddenly seemed to have rendered him somewhat reluctant to continue with this new advance in their relationship. Indeed, Mr Darcy's conscience was crying out that it was high time they abandoned the shelter of the tree and returned to the house. All sorts of very convincing arguments shot into his mind in order to prevent him from relinquishing his honour to the altar of this petty Venus. She perceived his shyness in that he quitted their embrace; both his hands were now resting at his sides. This would not deter Miss Elizabeth from her original pursuit, namely: to savour the enticing sensation of his very desirable, incredibly arousing lips. She could not wait to see whether it had been Mr Darcy's kissing that had elicited such sensations in her or whether it had been a mere coincidence.

Mr Darcy flicked a quick glance towards the house. He was sure that he had noticed some movement at the doorway and pointed out to himself that it would be highly unsuitable to be discovered in a compromising position, in which case not only would the lady's respectability be at stake, but also his own reliability as a true dandy. No he would not 'kiss' her again - at least not that night and not in such little recommended surroundings. Much as he would love to fall prey to his own desires, Mr Darcy was well aware of the folly of such comportment. Hence, he recoiled.

Clearing his throat, he gauged what her reaction would be at his reluctance to resume their previous endeavour. Hence, he attempted to hint her that the kissing exertion was over by stepping back a little as , with great delicacy, he detached himself from her arms. A little slow to sense his removal, Elizabeth opened her eyes with great reluctance, and found herself confronted with Mr Darcy's grave eyes. He was obviously not going to kiss her again.

"Oh," she uttered, deadpan.

"I believe we have had enough of this."

She raised an eyebrow and sent him a lopsided smile. "Certainly," she sighed.

"Miss Bennet, you must believe me. It is necessary that we stopped kissing."

"Absolutely," she said resigned. "Let us do whatever you desire, sir."

" Believe me," he said shaking his head. "You would not like to know of my present desires."

"Would I not?"

"No, you would not."

"I know I am safe with you," she said reassuringly.

"I thank you for your trust," he said coughing lightly. "But truth be told, at this moment I am not to be trusted. Not with these feelings you have awoken in me."

"Oh, you have felt something as well?"

"As well?"

She nodded demurely.

"Indeed. While you were kissing me, I had the oddest sensation. I have never felt that way before. Such a commotion! What can it mean?"

Darcy stared at her in great bewilderment. Was she playing with him again? "I am sorry. I fail to understand. What do you mean?"

Taking her hand to her bosom she exclaimed "There was this trembling inside of me, here. I could hardly breathe," she confessed, unembarrassed. "Every time you...your...mm ...I felt this...burning, yes, that is it, a pleasant burning sensation, mind you. And my heart...it went wild. I thought I was having a stroke!"

Recollecting the sad state of his groin a few moments earlier, Mr Darcy almost cried out, "Oh, Miss Bennet. Stop!"

"What?" she argued innocently.

"This is torture! I am not made of stone, madam."

"Did you feel it as well, then?"

Mr Darcy looked intently into her eyes. This was no game. Deep inside he knew she was being honest with him, merely seeking some information to settle her mind as regards her feelings. "What I truly feel would not be suitable for you to hear, Miss Bennet."

"Oh, but I must know! Please, you must tell me your feelings. It is of great importance that I know."

Darcy gulped, his body was trembling and he could hardly speak without betraying it. Did she really mean it? This was hardly proper. A gentleman would not speak of this with another gentleman, least of all with a lady.

"No, I cannot."

Elizabeth huffed in annoyance. "Oh, you are impossible! This is most unnerving. I have told you, have I not? Do you not think it is only fair that I know your feelings as well?"

"I have told you how much I love you."

"Oh! You're insufferable!"

"Very well," he began. Oh, this would be exceedingly difficult. He was feeling utterly ridiculous and terribly vulnerable. Nevertheless, if she wished to know his feelings, he would tell her. Perhaps it was necessary for their relationship to take a more intimate turn. "You cannot begin to imagine what I feel when I kiss you," he said without looking at her. "There is but only one thought in my mind, and that is the moment you and I..." he took her hands in his and kissed them with passion. "Thoughts of the most improper nature assault me, madam and I am no longer in command of my...body. You must understand I cannot allow this to happen."

Catching his meaning, Elizabeth gasped and blushed uncontrollably.

"It is only natural that lovers might get a little carried away, is it not?" she conceded with a tinge of merriment in her voice.

"I believe it is," Darcy said, unconvinced.

"But I know for certain that you value my honour and virtue," she voiced tentatively.

His alert loins pulsing beneath his pantaloons reminded Darcy that he could hardly be trusted with anyone's virtue, let alone that of Miss Bennet. His conscience gave him a piercing twinge. He must warn her that he was in no way as reliable as she thought him to be - not now that he had tasted her. Hence, he said impiously, "I would not be so sure."

Elizabeth watched him struggling for words.

How could he put it without being too forward? "Indeed, I value your confidence in my gentlemanly behaviour, madam. But, you must know I am a man. Especially when I am with you thusly, I am most definitely the worst of my species. I cannot help it. Your charms arouse every tissue in my body, and I can hardly restrain myself. Had we not been in the open with our family and friends ready to pounce on us at any minute, I do not know what might have happened. Believe me, dearest madam, if you value your virtue, I would not rely on me any longer, if I were you. "

This short colloquy left Elizabeth speechless.

"I am sorry. This is a truthful account of my feelings, madam. Deceit of all kind is my abhorrence. Please, do not think too ill of me."

"Lord. I never would have imagined it was so fierce!"

"You must think me a savage."

"Oh, no, no. Not at all. I confess your words have left me a little bewildered. But I am thankful you have been so...so...honest with me. I am beginning to understand my own feelings now. This has been very enlightening."

"Has it?"

"Yes. Very. You see, sir... Please do not get me wrong. I want to be honest with you. The truth is that...I feel very much the same!"

Mr Darcy's heart was beating wildly. His blood promptly abandoned his Northern regions to rush to the South, a blazed trail it was beginning to recognize quite well. The next moment he was at it again, their mouth one over the other, kissing with great eagerness. As Mr Darcy's lips lingered on hers, Elizabeth was sure she had felt his hands, or at least one of them, on her bosom. But she would not dare to open her eyes. It would be too embarrassing. In any case, they were no longer there. It had been merely a fleeting moment, a feathered touch. Nothing to worry about... Oops, there they were again. This time a little more pressing touch. Goodness. He was daring! Would she be able to cope with such ...kissing, she wondered? Of course she would. And in any case, she would not waste such an abundance of hormones. Mr Darcy's 'kissing' was positively exciting. Just as he had brushed his hands over her décolletage, she had felt the same certain something under her skirt, a most delightful quivering in her inner thighs that she had never felt before and now she was sure the sensation had been elicited from Mr Darcy's passionate touch and was not a mere coincidence.

"Mr Darcy?" her lips pronounced his name with a sultry tone.

"Miss Bennet..."

A third voice was heard at their back. "Mr Darcy?"

"Mr Darcy?" Mr Gardiner's not-so-gentle voice echoed in his ears. Mr Darcy almost jumped off his shoes with a start. He had been caught red-handed, which occasioned the gentleman's blazing passion to subdue instantly. Recollecting himself immediately, he managed to face the situation with amazing coolness and, despite that the odds were decidedly against him, did not lose composure and remained relatively calm. Yet, he had to think of something - in haste.

As if by magic, he came up with an incredible alibi. "There," he said soothingly, as he winked an eye to an incredulous Miss Bennet. Not for one moment did he turn around to face his ulterior interlocutor. "It was only a little eyelash in your eye. How does it feel now, Miss Bennet?"

"I am fine, sir. I thank you," Elizabeth answered, barely catching her breath. She was exceedingly flushed, half as a result of the nature of her previous exertion and half as a result of her astonishment of seeing herself in such an unseemly situation with Mr Darcy.

"Mr Darcy?" Mr Gardiner repeated with increasing impatience, his hands locked at his back, a creased brow directed toward the couple sheltered under the tree.

"Yes." Rising to his feet, Mr Darcy addressed the otherwise affable gentleman with amazing calmness. "Ah, yes. Mr Gardiner."

"Is everything in order, sir?"

"Yes, yes. Everything is in order." He then turned around to help Miss Bennet rise to her feet. "Mm...I thank you... Miss Bennet had a wayward eyelash in her eye that was err...making her...cry. I simply removed it with my finger." He showed his little finger as Elizabeth nodded emphatically from behind.

"It hurt." Elizabeth interjected.

Darcy looked at her. "It did?" he asked her a little bewildered not much accustomed to telling lies. Realising Miss Bennet was only trying to reinforce his argument, he remarked: "Indeed, it hurt. Yes, the eyelash, you see..."

"I am fine now, uncle," Elizabeth assured her uncle while touching her eye lightly. She began to perceive that, above all, Mr Darcy was a preposterous liar.

"An eyelash," Mr Gardiner chanted, and nodded, lips pursed in disbelief. Then, he surveyed the courtyard with a critical eye taking a lazy turn around the bench where the lovers claimed to have been engaged in eyelash-perusal. "I daresay you are the possessor of amazing eyesight, Mr Darcy," the gentleman concluded shrewdly. "Taking into account the absolute dimness of the surroundings, you must be. I should say quite an inappropriate place to look for stray eyelashes. Would you not find the bright light of the saloon more convenient for your purpose?"

"Yes, of course. Much more convenient. Definitely."

"Well?" he grunted, cocking one eyebrow.

"Miss Bennet, here, was crying. I thought it would be much better to calm her pain before we went in..."

"Yes. We thought it better to..." Elizabeth interjected.

"I have very good eyesight, sir," finished Mr Darcy.

"I see."

"Yes..." Mr Darcy said with a conclusive tone. "Ahem...we can go back to the saloon, Miss Bennet, now that you are feeling much better."

"Mr Darcy," Mr Gardiner interrupted with a self-satisfied smile.

"Yes?"

Are you feeling all right yourself?"

"I am. Thank you."

"You seem to be bleeding, sir. There, on the corner of your lower lip." Elizabeth's uncle gestured to his own lip. My Darcy mimicked him as if he were looking at a mirror. Straining his eyes, the gentleman approached Mr Darcy to distinguish better. "Or is it rouge?" Never in a hundred years would Elizabeth have imagined she would see Mr Darcy's face acquire such pallor in so short an instant. Unable to restrain herself, she giggled rather stupidly.

"Bleeding. I am. Darn it. I must have bitten myself." Mr Darcy took a handkerchief and covered his lower lip with it.

"Let me see," said Elizabeth scarcely restraining her laughter. She checked the gentleman's lip and shook her head. "It is a bad cut."

"Shall I help you, Mr Darcy?" offered Mr Gardiner.

"Oh, no," waved off Mr Darcy. "It is quite all right. It happens all the time. Shall we go in?" An unconvinced, but exceedingly amused Mr Gardiner took a few steps forward as Mr Darcy offered his arm to Miss Elizabeth, who was taking great pains in containing her mirth. She could not help pointing out in a barely audible tone, "Deceit of all kind is my abhorrence."

Darcy smiled. "I daresay there are times deceit is unavoidable, madam," he remarked very composedly. "Though, I have the feeling that your uncle was far from being deceived by our explanation but, for reasons of his own, has chosen to turn a blind eye to us."

"I would never have imagined you the possessor of such theatrical skills, Mr Darcy," she teased him. "You would excel on stage, sir. Have you ever tried the theatre?"

"Only from my private box. By the way, I shall be glad to take you to the theatre one of these evenings."

"To your private box?"

He smiled charmingly again. This courtship was exceedingly interesting. He could only imagine what their engagement would be like. "Nothing would be more delightful than taking you, madam, to my 'private box' in private. But things being as they are, I am afraid it would be very difficult to come up with a good excuse to be so close to you. I daresay your uncle will make an issue of finding suitable chaperones for us from now on."

The rest of the evening, Elizabeth teased Mr Darcy mercilessly. Nevertheless, he enjoyed every bit of it. At the backgammon table, he let her win; and at cards, she did the same for him. Soon Elizabeth discovered that Mr Darcy's kisses were not his sole assets. His society gradually became her most exquisite enjoyment. When later that evening it was discovered that he was musical as well, her estimation for him grew immensely. The instrument was unlocked, and Elizabeth played as Mr Darcy sang.

Bingley was perplexed. He had never truly known Darcy before that day. He listened to his friend, completely baffled. His musical talents, which were obviously considerable, had never been evident to him. His rich voice had an extraordinary sensibility Bingley had not known him to possess. Truth be told, all the party was enchanted, and Miss Elizabeth in particular was captivated beyond measure. Miss Bingley's words, that he was a man without fault, began to churn in her mind; and, for the first time, she agreed with the lady.

By the end of the soiree, Mr Darcy had captured Miss Elizabeth's undivided attention, and her partiality, which he had discovered to be growing in the courtyard, was now quite perceptible, not only to him, but also to the rest of the party, in that she kept forgetting the forms of worldly propriety too easily. It was only necessary for him to say a word to capture her complete attention and engage her in unrestrained conversation with no shyness or reserve whatsoever - whatever the topic.

At length, before it was time for the suitors to leave, ever so unwisely, Mr and Mrs Gardiner left the couples a few minutes on their own while they put the children away. Mr Bingley, who was eager to emulate Mr Darcy's exertions, quickly took advantage of this and guided his reluctant betrothed to an advantageously gloomy corridor leading to the doorway, with the meek excuse of giving her a trinket.

Mr Darcy, needing no such excuse, wasted not a second. He pounced on Miss Bennet and bestowed a most passionate kiss upon her neck.

"I have been meaning to do this for more than an hour," he breathed into her ear. "This lock of hair on your neck has been teasing me the whole evening." Her response was a brushing kiss on his lips. He smiled ruefully and dove into her mouth with pleasure, grunting as if in pain.

"Sir..." she said as she detached herself. "Someone might..."

"Are you determined to continue our courtship in this manner?"

"Now that you mention it. We have not agreed to a courtship, have we?"

"I thought that went without saying since we have become quite intimate."

"Mm. I suppose you are in the right. But you will have to talk to my father before I can accept your courtship, sir."

" Your father? Can I not just write him a letter?" she shook her pretty head in denial.

"How long are you planning to torture me?" he wailed.

"I happen to like your kisses a great deal, my dear sir. Therefore, it will torture for me, as well."

"I guess that pushes my suit a little forward?"

"Definitely, sir."

"Only a little?"

"I should say your suit has taken quite a leap. Mr Darcy," she breathed, relishing the moment.

"I am satisfied."

"Are you?"

"Do not tease me so, Miss Elizabeth," he growled. He wish he could press himself against her body and kiss her as he had done a few moments before. Indeed, in his present dealings with the lady, he hardly knew himself. The open display of their hearts' contents was such that he could hardly approve, yet the pull was so fierce that neither could he offer opposition. "It is fire you are playing with. You might burn yourself."

"I am not afraid of you, sir."

"But I am beginning to be of you. You are devilishly wicked, madam!"

"Sir, you offend my sensibilities! I am a daughter of Eve, sir. Like everyone else."

"Indeed you are. Eve and the serpent impersonate in one. Will I survive?"

"I daresay you are fit for the job, sir. You have already tasted the fruit. Have you enjoyed it?"

"Absolutely."

"Then surely you will come back for more."

"No doubt."

"Now, I am satisfied."

"I only hope the cherubim will allow me access to Eden," Mr Darcy said, gesturing towards the stairs, as he detached himself from Miss Elizabeth. He could not blame their closeness to another wayward eyelash yet again. Taking his much-abused handkerchief, he quickly erased all marks from his face. "It would be much easier, you know, if you avoided rouge from now on."

"I believe next time we are as close as tonight, I shall bite you so that your story of the bleeding lip is more convincing. What say you?"

Heavens! Nibbling her lips was something that had stirred Mr Darcy's fancy ever since he met her. Indeed, he would very much like to try that. Especially her lower lip, as he pressed his aching loins against her navel and...

The sound of a slap was heard from the corridor. A much-distressed Jane, flushed-faced and brow-creased, immediately stalked into the parlour. Mr Bingley, rubbing a ruddy cheek, a painful grimace upon his face, followed behind. Quick as a flash, Mr Darcy moved a safe distance from Miss Elizabeth. Mr Gardiner chose that exact moment to descend the stairs and speedily discovered that something was amiss.

"Unfortunately, I am certain there will not be many opportunities for kissing in the future, madam," Mr Darcy whispered into Elizabeth's ear, not a little diverted. "Though, I should be glad to actually bleed in such a pursuit."

That evening, when the gentleman had vacated, Mrs Gardiner visited the girls in their bedchamber to have a heart-to-heart talk. First, she conferred with Jane alone, leaving her favourite niece, Elizabeth, the task of preparing herself for a little tell-off while she witnessed the tête-à-tête with Jane from a corner.

At length, Mrs Gardiner directed her attention to Elizabeth.

"My dear," she began with great delicacy, "for one evening I should think you have done quite well. But, dearest, do you not think you should make up your mind by now? I cannot imagine facing Colonel Fitzwilliam in the morning. Not after this evening."

"I see what you mean. I have been too much at ease with Mr Darcy, have I not?"

"Yes, dearest. Especially in what entails stray eyelashes."

Elizabeth blushed. She knew Mr Darcy's argument had failed to deceive. "Yes, you are in the right," she said penitently. "I have erred against every notion of decorum in that quarter."

"Oh, do not be so hard on yourself, dearest. Your uncle and I understand that many times temptation can overcome every possible claim of reason. Neither of us can be surprised at your attachment to such a gentleman. We could only wish it were less openly shown."

"Of course, aunt."

"Now it only rests for me to know a little bit about your Mr Darcy. Do you like him that much, dear?"

"I do. I like him. Very much. Yet he was so dull in the past. There was nothing in him to recommend his friendship, let alone his suit. But all of a sudden he turned into this charming man. Do you not think him charming, aunt?"

"Yes, quite. I may venture to say, however, that Colonel Fitzwilliam is as charming as well?"

"He is."

"So?"

"I do not know."

"Have any of the gentlemen made you an offer?"

"They have."

"They?"

"Yes. Both of them. But I have found it very difficult to make up my mind. I like them. Both of them."

"Lizzy. This is an unseemly situation. You cannot have them both."

"Of course I cannot. But can I have either? How can I tell one of them that I have chosen the other? How can I ever make up my mind, knowing one of them will be pained? Even if I do and marry one of them, the other will be my relative anyway. I will be thrown into his company at family gatherings and the like. Probably, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam will not be on the best of terms anymore. I would not wish to be the cause of family disruption."

"I see. Is this what has caused your hesitation to accept either gentleman?"

"Partly. But the truth is that I would have chosen Colonel Fitzwilliam had not Mr Darcy made his appearance last week."

" Perhaps this means you are more inclined to chuse Mr Darcy?"

"Perhaps. Mr Darcy is all a woman could wish for in a suitor. He is a sensible man, and sense has always seemed very desirable in a prospective husband to me. He is well read and able to talk and impart a good deal of knowledge. I have found him capable of providing me with much information on a great variety of subjects, and he answers my inquiries with excellent readiness and good breeding." Without knowing why, Mrs Gardiner smiled. She could not help it. Perhaps she was thinking on the state of Mr Darcy's lips after Elizabeth and he had come back into the saloon that evening. Sensible indeed!

"Add to which that he has more money than he can spend."

"Indeed."

"So that seems to solve your problem. It must be Mr Darcy."

"Oh, no! It is not so simple. The Colonel is also very desirable, even for a man of one and thirty. He has seen a great deal of the world, has been abroad, and he also has a thinking mind. But, above all, he is exceedingly charming and good-natured. He possesses genius, taste and spirit. His understanding has all the brilliancy of an intelligent man, and yet his feelings have the ardour of a poet, and his voice and gestures the expression of a passionate lover."

"He is also very handsome in his regimentals." Mrs Gardiner pointed out.

"Yes, he is."

"It seems, Lizzy, you are caught in a tangled web. But be that as it may, you must make up your mind before long. I beg you, dearest, for my and your uncle's sanity."

"Yes, aunt. I will. Soon. I thank you."

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