In the carriage on their way back to their respective homes, Mr Bingley addressed the subject of Mr Darcy's little outing. Admittedly, Bingley was quite amazed as regards what he had witnessed in the courtyard. Until that night, he had been of the intelligence that such behaviour was completely undesirable during an engagement, let alone a courtship. Yet, if his friend, the honourable Mr Darcy, dared to reach such a level of intimacy with a lady, then it absolutely must be gentlemanly behaviour. Naturally, Mr Bingley had wished to emulate his friend in a cosy corner of the corridor, only to receive a slap on the face from his fiancée. Predictably, Mr Bingley was anxious to extract from his shrewd friend the strategy to follow in order to exact female favours and remain unblemished from the exertion. Accordingly, Bingley endeavoured to initiate a man-to-man colloquy, taking every consideration of Mr Darcy's reserved disposition and reluctance to speak about himself and his private affairs. Granted, if Mr Darcy was to speak openly, he must be somewhat in his cups.

Hence, Bingley spoke thusly, "I say Darcy, I believe there is reason for a little celebration. How about stopping for a glass of wine?"

"That will be very agreeable, Bingley. Let us go to White's."

At White's the two friends drank in comradeship. By the time the third bottle of claret was opened, Mr Bingley proposed, "Let us make a toast!"

"What are we celebrating? Your ruddy cheek?" Mr Darcy chuckled.

"Your engagement, of course!" he exclaimed rising to his feet.

"My? Are you mad, Bingley?" Mr Darcy said in a hushed voice, gesturing for his friend to resume his seat. "Of what are you talking?"

Bingley's answer betrayed that he was rather put out. "Oh, come on, man. Do not feign innocence. I know it all."

Despite the fact that Darcy looked positively angry, Bingley continued impassively. "Darcy, I saw you! If you are not engaged to Miss Elizabeth, then you had better begin giving me an explanation!" This time Darcy looked at his friend with murderous eyes.

"You saw...us? What do you mean? What exactly did you see?"

Bingley mimicked a kiss, pouting his lips in a comical gesture. He was positively drowned in wine.

"Bingley, you are seeing things." Darcy protested. "Your fiancéée must have been slapping you too often. She must have loosened something in there."

"Oh, no, no, no, no. I know what I have seen. In fact, I am suffering the effects of my trying to emulate you."

"Then, it serves you right. I was merely taking an eyelash from Miss Bennet's eye."

"Indeed. And what was your tongue doing thrust into her mouth?"

Claret notwithstanding, Mr Darcy understood that the nature of Mr Bingley's questions was not only compromising but also impertinent. "Bingley, my tongue was not... I shall not answer that."

"Don't be daft, Darcy. I am not that stupid. If you wish to leave your engagement as a secret, then so be it. But do not try to fool me. I know what I saw. And if you were removing an eyelash from Miss Bennet's eye, then I shall pray a hundred eyelashes get into Jane's so that I can endeavour the same."

"Bingley. Whatever you saw, you did not. Understand?"

"You mean you are not engaged?"

"I have nothing to say on the matter."

"You are not? Then how on earth did you..."

"I am afraid you are being meddlesome, Bingley. What Miss Elizabeth and I were doing in the courtyard is none of your business."

"Allow me to differ!"

"What?!" Mr Darcy cried rising to his feet.

"Oh, now you get offended. Come on, Darcy. I caught you this time. I demand you answer my questions." All in all, Mr Darcy had always been a good friend to Mr Bingley as well as his confidante. But this time Bingley's stupidity, mingled with his eagerness to extricate information from him had gone too far. Sending daggers at his friend with jet black eyes, Darcy made as if he were readying himself to leave. Demand indeed! Bingley comprehended he had forced things a little too much. Hence, he changed discourse. "Man! I need your council!" and in a pitiful gesture, he dropped his head on the table, face down.

That was it. Mr Darcy's fatherly instinct towards the orphan Bingley was invoked.

"Very well. What is it you want to ask?" he said as he resumed his seat in front of Bingley.

Bingley lifted his head with a triumphant smile on his lips. "Are you engaged to Miss Elizabeth or not?"

"Why do you need to know that?"

"I question of principle. That is all."

"It is not in my hands to answer that. Another question."

"Were you kissing Miss Elizabeth?"

"I was."

"On the lips?"

"Yes," he conceded with some pride.

"Did you like it?"

"What stupid question! Of co...I will not answer that."

Bingley clicked his tongue. "How did you accomplish that without a proper engagement?"

"Did I say I am not engaged?"

"You are, then."

"I did not accept it or deny it."

"Darn it, Darcy. You said you would answer my questions!"

"I said I would answer your questions for enlightening purposes not to satisfy your greedy curiosity."

"Did you kiss her more than once?"

"What?"

"More than once. You know..."

"I am not..." Bingley puffed and huffed in protest, thus making Darcy feel he should tell his friend a little more - for enlightening purposes, mind you. "Yes."

"How did you do it?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"How did you accomplish it? I tried to kiss Jane and she almost knocked me down."

"She slapped you because you kissed her?"

"More or less. I was imitating you."

"Me? "

"Well, truth be told, your hands were not exactly in your pockets while you were kissing Miss Elizabeth."

"Bingley! How long did you stay there spying on us?"

"Enough to know that kissing entails more than lips," he said saucily

"By Jove, Bingley! Do not ever repeat that again!"

"What? Why not?"

"I mean...do not say that aloud!"

"Oh, you must not fear. After all, we are almost family now."

Darcy grunted. "I am not so sure."

"You do not mean to marry her?" cried Bingley in astonishment.

"I do. But she must agree to it first. And freely. Not out of compromise."

"You mean she is unwilling to marry you?"

"She is a little difficult to persuade."

"Yet she seemed quite cuddled in your arms this evening." Bingley noticed Darcy had become serious and ill at ease. "Are you not making this up, Darcy? Is she really unwilling to marry you? I can hardly believe a lady would refuse your suit. Are you certain you wish to marry her? You know you must after you have kissed her like that..."

"I am, Bingley. It is not me. I would have married her long ago! But she is the most puzzling creature I have ever known. And bless my soul, I love her for that."

"You like her because she puzzles you?"

"She is a challenge, Bingley. Life will never be monotonous with her. There will be a puzzle to decode on every path I take with her. A most delightful riddle she is. I can barely wait to start deciphering it."

"Man! You are doomed. I thought I was in trouble, but compared to you..."

Darcy sneered. To his surprise, he was relishing the conversation. He felt like a champion in the face of a devoted disciple. Just as Bingley was about to shoot his next question, they were unexpectedly addressed by a gentleman. It was Mr Brummell.

"Darcy! It is good to see you!"

"Brummell. Good to see you, too. This is my good friend Bingley. Bingley , this is Mr Brummell."

"Oh, please. Call me George. May I join you? I have lost a good sum at dice and am in need of some pleasant conversation to take that sour taste from my throat."

"Have some claret," said Bingley stupidly.

"I thank you, but I do not think that wine will take the sour taste from my mouth. As a matter of fact, I am rather choosy when it comes to beverages. I will ask for some champagne, if you do not mind."

The champagne was accordingly requested, and the threesome soon emptied the bottle. Mr Brummell, feeling more at ease with the alcohol in his veins and a moist cherry on his lips, began what he considered small talk.

"How is that business in the country you were going to get into, eh Darcy?"

Darcy cleared his throat. "Fine. I thank you for asking."

"What business?" asked Bingley ever so imprudently. He had not heard a word about it.

"Oh, business," Darcy said dismissively.

"Yes! Darcy has recently bought a mare, but she seemed reluctant to be saddled! Did my advice work out, sir? It always does!" laughed Brummell.

"Yes. It did. Thank you again."

"I am glad to hear about it. Next time you must try a hayloft. Country girls just love a hayloft!"

"You mean mares," Bingley interjected.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have just said country girls. You were talking about mares."

"No, I was not."

Bingley looked puzzled.

"Well, yes. Mm...I think it is high time we go home, Bingley. You and I must get some rest to see the mares...err, the ladies tomorrow...remember?" And with that, Mr Darcy took Bingley by the elbow and hailed for their hats and coats, while at the same time he apologised to Mr Brummell for their hasty departure.

In the carriage, Bingley looked pensive and lost. His sagging body was sprawled on the seat, his brain swimming in liquor, yet he could not stop thinking of the words Mr Brummell had said about Darcy and the country mare.

"You never told me how you accomplished it," he finally blurted out.

"Pardon?"

"The kiss."

"Ah yes."

"Well, then?"

"I would rather not talk about it, if you do not mind."

Bingley was silent for a while. At length the penny dropped, and he asked rather demandingly, "A mare?"

Mr Darcy rolled his eyes. "I am sorry."

"You saddled her?"

"Oh, no, no, no. It is not what you think. I did not saddle Miss Elizabeth, I mean I did not seduce the mare... Oh! Hang Brummell!" He flopped himself against the back of the seat and was silent. Bingley coughed lightly. After a silence, Darcy said, "I only talked to her."

"You talked to her."

"Yes. Talk."

"What about?"

"Just talk."

"You are not being helpful, you know."

"It was not a seduction, Bingley. I kissed her, yes, then we talked, then we kissed again and I expressed my feelings as I...as I..." Bingley accompanied Darcy's hesitation with a forward movement of his head as if helping the words to come ...

"Caressed her?" Bingley ventured at last.

Mr Darcy shrugged. He did not accept or reject Bingley's suggestion. He feared Mr Bingley was too wet behind the ears to comprehend his explanation. Yet Mr Bingley's imagination soon took command of his brain and body.

"Oh!" Bingley went red in the face.

"Enough?"

"Yes."

For the first time in his life, Mr Bingley agreed to be silent. Yet sleep did not come easily for him that night; and, when he finally surrendered to a deep slumber, images of Darcy touching Miss Elizabeth assaulted him, leaving him breathless and painfully alarmed for the rest of the night. Wet dreams of the most arousing nature followed him all week; and, when it came time to visit the small house in Gracechurch Street, he was scarcely able even to come close to his fiancée without great disturbances beneath his breeches. He could not look Lizzy in the face for quite a long time.

Early next morning Colonel Fitzwilliam paid his accustomed call to Miss Elizabeth. As he turned the corner of Gracechurch Street, he was not surprised to see his cousin's carriage in the street. He did not have to elaborate much. Evidently, his cousin was calling on his intended.

This would not be the first time Darcy had engaged himself to compete with Fitzwilliam. Yet this time Fitzwilliam thought Darcy had gone too far. It was not until Colonel Fitzwilliam had voiced his wish to court Elizabeth, that Darcy had made up his mind to marry her. Until then, Darcy had admired her, longed for her, yearned for her, yet the very idea of an alliance with her had been completely discarded. Predictably, Darcy's competitive nature turned out to be stronger than his voiced desire for good connections in a prospective bride. He would not have her while she remained his to take. But the minute his cousin had set eyes on her, Miss Elizabeth had become the one and only. Can that be called love in all honesty? Fitzwilliam chuckled inwardly.

Fitzwilliam was far from yielding to his rich cousin's whimsicalities. Granted, he did not like the idea of sharing the lady with Darcy in the least, or the notion of having to compete with him for her good opinion. He reckoned that, until then, the objects of their arguments had always been horses, coats, hats, and occasionally, a dancing partner. Never a lady's heart. Admittedly, Darcy outshone him in both looks and wealth. This idea did unsettle him. He pondered how much his cousin's ten thousand-a-year had afforded Darcy the good opinion of any marriageable lady of the ton. It was then that Fitzwilliam began to understand Miss Elizabeth's reluctance to marry the colonel.

By and large, Fitzwilliam's good nature and amiability made up for any little flaws that a lady could find in him as a suitor. All in all, he was a good prospect. He had some wealth in his small inheritance from his mother, he had made an excellent career with the regulars, etc, etc. But above all, he was exceedingly caring, a perfect gentleman, a man of honour, and one who could make a woman's happiness simply with a smile from his handsome lips.

On arriving at Mr Gardiner's house, he was received by a much puzzled Jane, who guided him towards the breakfast room, where an exceedingly tense Miss Elizabeth and a very much flushed Mrs Gardiner were breakfasting with the children. An unflappable Mr Darcy, ever so cool, was having only a cup of coffee at the other end of the table.

"Miss Elizabeth, Mrs Gardiner. Good morning." Fitzwilliam merely nodded towards his cousin.

"Good Morning, Colonel. Please take a seat. Would you like to have breakfast this morning? You have so far refused my table." That was generosity from Mrs Gardiner. It was an excellent way to hint to Mr Darcy that it was the colonel's custom to call in the morning and that Darcy's presence there at that unseemly hour was uncalled for.

"I thank you, yes. That would be very agreeable." With that, the colonel sat beside Miss Elizabeth, who instantly helped him to a generous portion of potatoes. Mr Darcy, by consequence, was left alone on his side of the table, a gap being left between him and Mrs Gardiner, and he observed all this in perfect silence while sipping his cup of coffee with a composed look upon his face. Soon Jane joined them and sat beside Mr Darcy, taking great pains to engage him in conversation, but to no avail. She was quite justified in her endeavour, for Mr Darcy was in fact admittedly tense, though he betrayed not a thing. Jane, for her part, was anxious to keep the bad humour of her sister's suitor at bay and, knowing the effect which good food has upon the soul of a man, began to fill a plate of food for Mr Darcy and even replaced his cup of coffee with a glass of red wine.

After breakfast, Jane, out of sisterly compassion, was resolved to keep Mr Darcy's company during Miss Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam's morning stroll. It was by this mesmerism which sisterly bond possesses that the otherwise sluggish Jane became bold and confident. She prattled, chatted and talked of all sorts of subjects with an ease not known of her. Admittedly, Mr Darcy was quite unused to conversing with the elder Miss Bennet, and at first did not pay her attention, but nonetheless, endeavoured to follow her colloquy and, accordingly, gave intermittent nods and occasionally a short response. Any intelligent man would have soon become engaged with Jane's sweet manners and surprisingly witty conversation. But Mr Darcy was too busy keeping an eye on the other couple. So much so, that he did not see Lord Byron coming in state to talk to him.

"I am glad to see you again, sir! You left in a hurry last night, and I neglected to give you my card."

Mr Darcy was thoroughly surprised to see the gentleman in the park and, with a great deal of hesitation, made the appropriate introductions of his companion, though he failed to call his acquaintance "Lord Byron", and gave his college's name instead. Byron immediately took Jane for the lady to whom Darcy had made reference at White's a few days before.

"I say, Darcy. My cousin, Miss Mary Duff is holding a ball in my honour on occasion of the great success of 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage', and she has prevailed upon me to invite my personal friends. I shall be glad to see you and your fair lady there."

Jane's eyes widened. "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage?" she asked in amazement.

"Indeed, dear madam," he answered majestically.

"You are Lord Byron?" she gasped.

Byron just relished the moment. "At your service."

"Sir," she said, unable to contain herself, "I loved your work."

"Very kind of you," was the poet's reply. "You do me great honour. I wonder if you have any inclination to dance, Miss Bennet?"

"Always, sir."

"Well, then. It only rests for me to say I shall be glad to see you in a few days. Please let me know if you will be attending as soon as may be."

"I shall inform you, Byron. It was very kind of you." When Darcy got rid of his acquaintance, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth were nowhere to be seen. Darcy could have kicked himself. In vain did they walk the many paths in their search. At length, they gave up the quest, and Darcy took Jane back to the Gardiner's.

Meantime, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam walked in companionship, but neither of them spoke much.

"You are upset, sir?"

"Oh, no. By no means. Only a little pensive."

"I am sorry about Mr Darcy. He called without notice. I was not expecting him."

"I did not know he was calling on you."

"I owe you an apology, Richard. Your cousin had indeed been calling on us along with Mr Bingley."

"But today he has come on his own," he remarked.

"Indeed he has. Most unexpectedly."

"It is hardly possible to talk with my cousin at my heels. You perfectly know Darcy covets you, Miss Bennet. He must be simmering in jealousy on seeing us walking alone. I would be if I saw him walking with you in this manner."

"Has he told you about his feelings for me?"

"He has."

"I see."

They walked in silence a bit more, and Fitzwilliam took a cursory look behind to make sure Darcy was not behind them.

"May I have a word with you, Miss Elizabeth?"

"About Mr Darcy?"

He nodded.

She sighed.

"Very well. What have you to say?"

"I take it that Darcy has renewed his addresses?"

"He has."

"Is that the real reason why you have refused my suit?"

She sighed again and was silent.

"Should I take that silence for a yes?"

She raised her eyes up at him and shook her head.

"No?"

"This is very embarrassing, sir. You must think very ill of me."

"I do not."

Despite herself, she smiled, lowered her head, and less confidently confessed her feelings to the good colonel. "I am grieved, sir," she said gravely. "I fear I am in a terrible tangle of emotions."

"Am I disturbing you, Elizabeth? Would you like me to..."

"No. Not at all."

"I suppose this means that if I asked you again you would refuse me once more?"

"Oh, please, do not. Do not ask me now."

"I shall not."

They walked a little further and Richard claimed her hand. "Elizabeth, a courtship is supposed to be a merry time, one we will always remember with smiles on our faces once time has washed away our youth. I fear that I can no longer smile, and neither can you. I will bargain no more, Elizabeth. I withdraw. I find no fault with you, mind you.

But it is obvious that I have clung to what you cannot give me. So I shall bid you farewell for the time being."

"Am I to understand that you no longer love me?" she asked, suddenly scared of his detachment. She was loath to marry him but wished to keep him.

"Do not get me wrong. I do love you. But, momentarily, you are not worthy of my attachment. At least not now. I know what your heart is capable of, so I am not giving up on us. But I reckon that it is no good to press my suit any longer. I shall go to Spain on my own. Take your time to think about us while I am away. If you should miss me, then you must write to me and let me know." He kissed her hand with great devotion. "Yet, I must make something very clear to you before I go." Fitzwilliam's gravity became such that Elizabeth felt a horrible lump in her throat, and tears welled in her eyes. "You must know I love and worship you with all my faculties of regard and admiration. In all my life, I have never been as happy as during the past few weeks. All earthy delights are nothing compared to one single look of your beloved eyes. All previous courtships mean nothing to me, Elizabeth. I love you now, and I shall love you always. If I drop, you will be my very last thought, if I survive, you shall be my first endeavour."

Indeed, those words had a devastating effect on Elizabeth. Very much affected by the colonel's words in parting, she leapt into his arms and disappeared under the folds of his cloak in an absurd manner. They remained in this position for quite a long time, she trembling all over, he relishing the sensation of her petite body pressed to his own. When they came apart, she was quite broken and cast down.

"Come," he said with great composure. "I shall take you home."

Later that very evening, Colonel Fitzwilliam made his appearance at White's. He was not in the habit to go there so late, but he had been invited by a fellow Colonel to have a talk about their imminent removal to the continent since both their regiments had been ordered abroad.

As he was playing cards with his comrades, he overheard a conversation between two extremely well dressed gentlemen whose acquaintance he had not yet made.

"I saw your friend Darcy here yesterday evening, George, my boy," the pale, dark-haired gentleman said. "By Jove he is a stiff fellow!"

"He is indeed! That is why I enjoy teasing him so!"

"It seems he had his way with the little country girl he told us about the other night after all!"

"I cannot blame him. I have seen him with his Miss Bennet taking a stroll in the park. Such a lovely face, beautiful eyes, fair skin, pretty figure."

"And front?"

"Most becoming!"

"And I have thought him a fool!"

"You say he made love to her?"

"I do not know that much!"

"By Jove! I would give half my fortune, if I had any, only to take a little peek at Darcy having it off with his country miss!"

"I suppose he must marry her now!"

"Undoubtedly!" And they both roared in laughter.

That was enough to unsettle the poor colonel for the whole evening. The sole idea of Miss Elizabeth in the arms of another man was preposterous in itself. But the anguish that occasioned her good name being thrashed about by two good-for-nothing-so-called gentleman was insupportable. For it must have been Miss Elizabeth to whom they were making reference. Yet he could not understand how his cousin had dared to confess his dealings with Miss Bennet to such idiotic fellows.

Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately dismissed the notion that Miss Bennet had fallen so low. Repressing an immediate impulse to call the stupid men out, he excused himself with his friend and left White's in the blackest of moods.

Word of Darcy's reputed country beauty spread speedily among gentlemen in the club and soon reached the ears of the ladies of the ton. At Byron's ball, there was hardly any other topic of conversation. It was only providence - because Darcy was so adverse to balls in general - that he had refused the invitation after all; and, accordingly, further inconveniences were spared. But the face that was described and the name that was connected to Darcy's conquest was not Elizabeth's but Jane Bennet's, since she was the lady who had been seen in Darcy's company in the park.

"This is not to be borne!" cried Caroline Bingley at his brother's face, when she returned from the ball that evening. "And this is the woman to whom you wish to be engaged? A woman whose name has been thrashed about from mouth to mouth in London? Whose name and reputation have been ruined in the most scandalous manner!"

"But this is falsehood! None of this is true!" Bingley complained.

"Its falsehood or truism is of no consequence. Her name has been trod upon and that is the material point."

"That does not bother me in the least. Nor will it deter me from marrying her. "

"But it does bother me! And you must remember how much your choice of wife might affect my future. A connection with someone whose name has been blemished might lessen my own prospect of marrying men of any consideration in the world."

"I do not see how. Jane is absolutely innocent; and I am perfectly convinced that so is Darcy. Miss Bennet is very much attached to me, Caroline. You do not understand..."

"On the contrary - I understand perfectly well. Miss Bennet is in love with you, but she flirts with Mr Darcy."

"Oh no! Not flirts! Jane is incapable of wrongdoing!"

"Oh well. It is probable that she will neither love so well, nor flirt so well. In any case, she has been exposed in time. Your engagement has not yet been announced, which is a source of relief. Had it been the case, it would have ruined us forever."

"I think you are being carried away by gossip a little too much. This is a mistake, I am certain! For a kingdom! Darcy would never..."

"Darcy! Oh lord! Can you not just see? It must have been by his own inducement that all this was spread. For I am certain he wishes to warn you against the evils of contracting so lowly a connection!"

"Caroline! To be guided by second-hand conjectures is pitiful and beneath you. I know Miss Bennet's heart. And it lies with me. It has been so ever since we have set eyes on each other, and there is nothing you?"

"And her sister! Of course I see it all clearly now! She has lured Mr Darcy's cousin! She drew him in while her sister hooked Mr Darcy! Surely she realized there was more to earn in those quarters. Now they have both the money and the connections! Oh, how scheming they turned out to be!"

"This is preposterous! I have spoken with Darcy myself, and I am certain Miss Elizabeth is seriously attached to him! I have seen it with my own eyes!"

"You have, Charles?"

"Yes, I have. He was holding her and ..."

"What?"

Bingley suddenly realised he had spoken too much. He closed his mouth and refused to speak any further.

"Have you seen them in a compromising situation? Charles!"

"I...I..."

"That can only confirm my suspicions. They are merely gold diggers. The apple does not fall too far from the tree!"

"If I cannot endeavour to persuade you that you are in the wrong, then let us both speak to Darcy. I tell you he was well aware that I was...I am engaged to Miss Bennet. I shall have a word with him and everything will be solved."

But Bingley's dreams of a speedy solution could not be more scarce. As Colonel Fitzwilliam made what he thought would be his last call to Mr Gardiner's house before he started packing for his journey abroad, he found the house in an uproar.

Lizzy was holding a letter in her hands as she spoke. "I am sorry, Richard. Something horrible has happened. You will have to forgive me, but..." At that, she broke and could not speak for a while.

"What is it, Elizabeth?" Her pale face and impetuous manners made him start; and, before he could recover speech, Elizabeth hastily exclaimed:

"I beg your pardon, but I cannot tell you. I must go to Longbourn on business that cannot be delayed. I have not an instant to lose."

"Good God. What is the matter? Is anyone in your house ill? Are you ill?"

"No. I am quite well. It is not that."

"But you look truly ill."

At this, her knees failed her, and she lost composure. Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately ran to her side and held her in his arms. Ever so tenderly, he helped her sit on a chair, then hurried to the table, poured some sherry in a glass and offered it to her, but she refused to drink. In seeing her suffering so much, his emotions suddenly palpable again, he found himself eager to console her. Caressing her hair and tenderly kissing the top of her head as she dipped her face in his lapels, Fitzwilliam wondered about the source of her distress. She was trembling fiercely and Colonel Fitzwilliam's heart melted and suffered with her. But he said not a word but, in wretched suspense, patiently waited until her sorrow subsided and she could explain herself. At length she recovered part of her power and spoke. "I cannot retain this from you," she said between sobs. "In fact it cannot be concealed from the general knowledge for long." Thus, she proceeded to pass him the intelligence of her younger sister's elopement with Mr Wickham.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, in a most agitated manner, hardly able to contain his anger and shock, began to inquire as regards the details of the sad affair. When he came into the intelligence that Darcy was aware of the Bennet's acquaintance and consequent friendliness with the scoundrel, his face went white with anger. Yet, he concealed all this from Elizabeth and, leaving her with the excuse to allow her time to ready her things for her trip, hastily retired towards his cousin's townhouse, not without first assuring her that he would not leave her alone in her distress.

He found Darcy completely unaware of the latest news. As he was rising to welcome his cousin, the butler announced the unexpected arrival of Mr Bingley. The two gentlemen looked at each other but said not a word of what in reality had called them to Darcy House in the first place. Darcy d knew not what to make of them. They were obviously in great need to have a word with him. And since he believed his cousin more worthy of his attention (after all what could Bingley's concerns be that could not be solved over a glass of port. His cousin's, however, might require a pair of duelling pistols), he managed to persuade Bingley to seek him later in the day. That was again mere providence, for the delay had considerably calmed Fitzwilliam's animosity and now he could talk about the subject that concerned them with relative composure.

Darcy's reaction to hearing of the turmoil at the Gardiner's house was overwhelming incredulity. But his dejection in feeling that he might have spared his beloved all her present suffering had he not been so proud and reserved was indescribable. His face was fixed in astonishment.

"Is it certain? Absolutely certain?"

"Indeed it is. I have seen the letter myself. They left Brighton on Sunday night, and were traced almost here, but not beyond. You must understand what it means..."

"They are certainly not gone to Scotland."

"What else can be expected from Wickham?"

"And what has been done? What have been attempted to recover her?"

"Not much. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are to travel to Longbourn immediately to take care of their mother. Their uncle has already begun to search in town. I suppose Mr Bennet is already on his journey here."

Darcy shook his head.

"Why did you not open their eyes, Darcy? Tell me. Why did you keep silence?" Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear him, and was walking up and down the room in what seemed to be earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy.

"Darcy! I am talking to you! Why did you not expose Wickham's real character to all these people! Do you not see? Had you spoken, none of this would have happened!"

"I am afraid it is all too late for regrets now, Fitzwilliam. What was done or not done is of little consequence."

"Darcy, you are a brother to me, but I must confess I hardly know you. You are not living under the principles you were taught to live. You should be ashamed of yourself! It is true you have been raised in an overbearing fashion, yet you have been too selfish and proud all your life. If your mother or father saw what you have turned into they would wish you were never born at all, for they were the most benevolent and amiable of people. Is there no end to your selfishness? When will you learn that there are people beyond your own circle who deserve your care and attention? Now the very ones you should have protected must suffer."

"I have heard enough, cousin. Now, if you would pardon me, I have business to attend." With that, Darcy gave his cousin a quick bow and quitted the room.

Thusly, Colonel Fitzwilliam was left alone in the parlour. He stayed in the house the necessary time only to wait for his coat and hat, and then he hastily returned to Gracechurch Street.

Some change of countenance was necessary for Colonel Fitzwilliam as he walked into Mr Gardener's drawing room. He must disperse his ill humour for the sake of Elizabeth and Jane Bennet. True, the misfortune of Miss Lydia's elopement could not be erased yet something could still be done. With such reasoning Fitzwilliam resolved himself to offer his services to Mr Bennet as soon as the gentleman alighted from his carriage. But when talking to Mrs Gardiner, the colonel was informed that as soon as Mr Bennet had arrived, he and Mr Gardiner had gone in search of the couple.

Feeling himself restless, Fitzwilliam could think of nothing else but to offer to accompany the Bennet girls to their destination in Hertfordshire. For that purpose, he sent for the carriage that belonged to his family. Accordingly, they set out that very afternoon and arrived in Longbourn just before dusk.

Once there, the colonel observed with considerable apprehension the poor reception the girls had on arriving at their house. The mother was nowhere to be seen; Mary, the elder of the remaining daughters, seemed concerned, yet not as thoroughly distressed as the colonel had expected; while the youngest sister voiced her certainty that Lydia had done nothing so very wrong. Fitzwilliam stayed in their company long enough to witness Elizabeth reading a certain note Lydia had left for her friend in Brighton and heard distinctly when Elizabeth pronounced her sister Lydia to be a stupid fool.

Once he felt his duty had been done, Colonel Fitzwilliam thought it wiser to return to London directly, but the ladies would not hear of it. They reasoned it was already too dark for him to begin such a trip; and, in the end, he was compelled to accept their offer of a guest room at Longbourn and depart for the city with the first light of dawn.

Despite the fact that Elizabeth was much distressed, Fitzwilliam found himself enjoying the moment. Staying under the same roof with Elizabeth was something he had discarded ever since they had had their farewell conversation in the park. This was a pleasure which perhaps a whole day's visit at the Gardiners' would not have afforded, for the whole affair, sad indeed in its deepest form, had thrown him back into Elizabeth's company. The very sight of her, her weak smile, her touch, her voice so grateful, satisfied his need of her, and he determined to derive as much pleasure from his stay as he could, given the circumstances.

Now, it so happened that, in spite of Elizabeth's resolution of focusing on the problem in front of her, her mind most stubbornly drifted to that place where Mr Darcy must be. Indeed, she should not be at this time in a state of a spirit to care really about anyone's opinion of the affair, but in the case of Mr Darcy, things were different. She had had no way to apprise her now-favourite intended of the terrible news. Still, there was something in Colonel Fitzwilliam's demeanour manner of speaking that told her that Mr Darcy had been given some intelligence of the situation. How would he take it? Would he still be willing to make an alliance with a family whose youngest daughter had fallen so lowly? It would be a terrible thing if the gentleman were to recoil now that Elizabeth was persuaded to accept him. Ever since they had had that gratifying evening together at the Gardiners' home, Elizabeth had secretly, though very frequently, thought that, if she were to marry any of her present suitors, Mr Darcy was the very person to suit her character and condition. And those feelings increased after Colonel Fitzwilliam had withdrawn his courtship, for she would be now able to turn away and welcome Darcy's shows of affection with a clean conscience.

With such sensations, the return of Colonel Fitzwilliam's civilities could not be more ill-timed. Elizabeth's project of forgetting him found no ground when he was now so close to her. But she had the comfort of appearing very composed and grateful, while at the same time feeling very cross and distressed, not as much for her sister's sake but for Mr Darcy's opinion of the matter.

"I wish I had sent a note to Miss Darcy to explain at least my hasty withdrawal from town," she said to Colonel Fitzwilliam as she showed the gentleman to his room.

"You mean Georgiana?"

"Yes. I was to have tea with Mr and Miss Darcy today."

"You can rest assured, madam, that my cousin has been informed of your return to Longbourn."

"Oh, has he? I am most obliged, Richard." Elizabeth spoke with a very proper degree of relief. "I have been torturing myself with the idea that he...that they would find out about the whole affair when coming for me today. I could not bear to disappoint Miss Darcy without the resemblance of a proper explanation. Do you think the truth could be concealed from her for some time?"

"I am sure you can count of Darcy's secrecy."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, unable to conceal her wretchedness at hearing that Mr Darcy was aware of her misfortunes. "So you told him everything?"

"Part of it. I had to."

"How did he..." but she hesitated to ask the colonel how his cousin had taken the news of Lydia's disgrace.

"How he bore it?" asked he, not a little uncomfortably.

Elizabeth nodded demurely and glanced away to avoid eye contact.

"I cannot render a fair account of his feelings, Miss Elizabeth. Darcy is very reserved. I can only say that he regretted the whole affair exceedingly. He was wretched on your account." Elizabeth began to look terribly uneasy and could find nothing to reply. The colonel noticed the effect of his words, and hated Darcy for his haughtiness and pride which, in his own estimation, had been the means of all the present sufferings of Elizabeth and her family. "I am sorry. Darcy had to be apprised of the situation. Please, do not distress yourself. All will be well, you will see. I shall be in town by tomorrow, and I am certain I will be able to afford your father some intelligence of the scoundrel's whereabouts."

"Richard, there is something I do not understand. I am certain that Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy did not like each other. But you have just said Mr Darcy must be apprised of Wickham's dealings with my sister. Why? Has this anything to do with the living of which Wickham was deprived?"

"How much do you know about that?" he asked, a bit mystified at her knowing about it at all.

"Only Mr Wickham's account, I am afraid. Until recently, I have never doubted his word. However, Mr Darcy is not the person Mr Wickham has depicted. I reckon there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I disliked Mr Darcy, when I was very much disposed to think terribly ill of him due to what I now gather might have been Wickham's false accusations."

"Indeed, I believe Wickham capable of spreading all sorts of falsehoods about my cousin."

"What exactly was the misunderstanding between them?"

"It was a scandal not unlike the one he has caused in your family. I am sure my cousin Darcy will gladly give you the details of his dealings with him when you ask him personally. Suffice is to say that I know this not to be the first time he has attempted to disgrace a family."

"Oh, Lord! So it is just as I feared. He has no intention to marry her! It is everyway horrible!"

"I am sorry. Truly sorry. But Wickham's intentions were clear to me ever since you showed me the letter. He was clearly not heading for Scotland. Now, if he can be found wherever he is hiding, there is still hope that he could be persuaded to marry your sister."

"But how is such a man to be worked on? I know that nothing can be done!"

Now Elizabeth's distress was paramount. She was sorry, very sorry. Her heart was grieved to an excess, for she understood that her power over Mr Darcy must be sinking. Everything must sink in the face of such proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. Lydia, the humiliation, the misery that she was bringing on her family swallowed Elizabeth's every hope to see Mr Darcy again. For, despite the fact that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been once a favourite, her thoughts had irremediably turned to Mr Darcy and how much she could have loved him, now that all love was in vain.

The train of her thoughts had made Elizabeth lost to everything else and, after a pause of several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the voice of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who in a manner which spoke more than compassion said, "Hush, please, madam. I cannot bear your tears." She nodded gravely but could not do as he begged her. Fitzwilliam, feeling terribly agitated to see Elizabeth's distress, cupped her chin and held her face to him. "Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done in on my part that might offer consolation to such distress! I will not torment you with vain wishes. But you can depend upon me that something will be done. But please, ask no more questions. You will know it all in good time. Allow me now to wipe this tear and ..." He reached out to erase a wayward tear that was solitary and involuntarily rolling on her cheek and almost gave in to the temptation to kiss her trembling lips.

Yet, the recollection of her partiality for Mr Darcy put a halt to his sudden impulse; and, with Herculean effort, he schooled himself to repress every tender feeling and withdrew his hand. True, she had at one period been partial to him, but Fitzwilliam had felt her inconsistency, though he wished he had misjudged her heart. He could not impute to her a more relenting heart than she possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept his. Yet his desires and wishes he found very difficult to disguise, if he could disguise them at all.

Regardless of the path her tender feelings had taken, she was his own Elizabeth, and Fitzwilliam felt his duty to see to her well-being. He could not kill or give Wickham what he esteemed was the villain's due. But he could help the family find the scoundrel's hiding place, since he was certain Wickham had not headed for Scotland as it had been once inferred but, with no plans of forming an alliance with Miss Lydia, must be bidding his time somewhere in the suburbs of town. Such were his thoughts as he bid her goodnight and retired to his chamber.

When he was gone the next day, Elizabeth was certain at least of receiving constant information of what was going on in London, for Fitzwilliam promised at parting to prevail on Mrs Gardiner to maintain correspondence to impart them news.

All Meryton was by now decidedly against Mr Wickham, and everybody declared him the wickedest of young men and spoke of his extravagancies, debts and seductions. Elizabeth now became hopeless, more especially on her own account, as to her own future as Mr Darcy's intended and even feared for her sister Jane's union to Mr Bingley, since all prospects of good marriages might have been ruined for all the Bennet girls along with Lydia's reputation. How improbable it was that she should ever see Mr Darcy again on such intimate or even cordial terms as they had seen each other in their several meetings in London! As she threw a retrospective look on the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, she sighed at the perverseness of those feelings which would now have promoted its continuance.

Colonel Fitzwilliam left Longbourn on Friday; on Tuesday, they received a letter from Mrs Gardiner. It told them that, on his arrival, Colonel Fitzwilliam had joined her husband in his search about London's outskirts, and he was now trailing Wickham at Clapham and Epson. By the end of the week, they received another letter which imparted them no better news than that the search continued without success.

Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious part of each was when the post was expected. In further letters, they learned the shocking news that, in addition to all his wickedness, Mr Wickham was also a formidable gamester, his gaming debts amounting to more than a thousand pounds in Brighton alone.

As time went by, it was clear to all that Wickham and Lydia had not married or gone to Scotland; since, if that were the case, they should have received some news of them by now. One day, a letter brought the worst news possible, and Elizabeth found no more consolation. Mr Gardiner wrote that they might expect to see their father at home on the following day, rendered himself and Mr Bennet both spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours to find the couple, and did not suggest that any more efforts to find Lydia would be attempted.

Accordingly, Mr Bennet arrived at Longbourn the next day, his usual philosophical composure appearing intact, though Elizabeth and Jane knew him to be exceedingly sorrowful and pained.

Yet, while everyone in the Bennet and Gardiner households had lost all hope and abandoned all endeavours, a man outside the family had not rested for a second and, in the end, found his efforts rewarded with the discovery of Wickham's hiding place. Two days later, Mr Gardiner wrote a letter to Mr Bennet announcing the good news and informing him that, although the couple's union had not received God's blessing, Mr Wickham had agreed to be so united to Lydia. Mr Bennet was to prepare her settlement, as well as her dowry, as soon as may be.

Within the next se'nnight Lydia was finally united in holy matrimony to Mr Wickham and within the next, the couple had vanished to Newcastle where Mr Wickham had procured, by means of Mr Gardiner's connections and money, a new commission among the regulars. Unfortunately the perturbing manner in which their union was finally made did not fail to be known to everyone acquainted with the Bennet family in Meryton and beyond. Soon, the family received many a commiserative neighbour and relative who, betimes in earnest, betimes with the mere wish to revel in their sorrow and shame, would condole with their unfortunate situation. Whether the first was meant by Mr Collins rather than the second when penning his letter of commiseration, I leave the reader to judge, though I strongly believe than nothing short of cruelty could be expected from the slighted man.

As Elizabeth looked over Jane's shoulder following the reading of the parson's missive, her heart did not fail to shrink with the acutest of pains. It was clear to her that there was an evident purpose to hurt rather than heal when Collins wrote: "the death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison to this..." or "...this false step of one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others..." and last but not least, "...as Lady Catherine herself says, who will connect themselves with such a family?"

Who indeed...

If Caroline Bingley had resisted her brother's intention to ally himself with Jane Bennet prior to the intelligence of Lydia's affair, one can only imagine what she could have done had she been apprised of it. But she need not have heard malicious tongues because Jane Bennet herself wrote a letter to her would-be fiancé in which she confessed the sins of her family.

In all honesty, Miss Bennet's intentions had not been to release Mr Bingley from the evil of so imprudent an alliance. Albeit Mr Bingley's marriage proposal had been made to the spotless eldest daughter of a genteel family, prior to the unfortunate episode that had rendered all the daughters almost ineligible for gentlemen of considerable station, Jane was sure of the constancy of Mr Bingley's feelings. Jane had, therefore, chosen to withdraw and leave to Mr Bingley whether he would be willing to persevere with their engagement in the knowledge of the present Bennet girls' reputation, persuaded that Mr Bingley would chuse to marry her against all odds.

Unfortunately, Miss Bennet had not counted on her own reputation being ruined ere Lydia's scandalous marriage. To make matters worse, in her endeavour to maintain as neutral a language as possible when she described the evils of her sister, her expression was such as to confuse Bingley, who, prejudiced by the conversation he had previously had with Caroline regarding the gossip at Jane's expense at Byron's ball, misunderstood Jane's confession of Lydia's shameful behaviour with her own. His incredulity was paramount, however, since both Jane and Darcy had always been so perfectly righteous and neither seemed capable of such horrendous and deceitful comportment.

Yet, Jane's confession was there, in black and white, and there was nothing he could do to deny it. If that were the case, if his best friend and mentor had indeed as it was claimed, seduced his fiancée, then both his engagement to Jane and his friendship with Darcy were over. Still unable to come to terms with this new intelligence, Bingley resolved to have a tête-à-tête with Darcy, ere any decision was reached.

Mr Darcy was already preparing his journey back to Pemberley, for it was time for him to see his steward and his bailiff. Nonetheless, Darcy reckoned he had postponed an interview with a very much concerned Bingley the same day he had been imparted the intelligence of Miss Lydia's so-called elopement. Accordingly, Darcy received Bingley, this time aware that his friend might have concerns of considerable weight to talk with him about. Predictably, Bingley was exceedingly nervous. He found Darcy had lost all semblance of happiness that had marked his countenance while the Misses Bennet were in town. Even more, there was an uncharacteristic gloominess about him that deterred Bingley from speaking openly. He fumbled with words and in the end, Darcy lost patience.

"Out with it Bingley," Darcy urged his friend.

Bingley found it better to hand him Jane's letter and allow Darcy to read it on his own for there was no way he could put his misery and confusion in plain English. Faith, he wished he had found a pit and had been buried within. Yet an explanation was called for, so he stood there, eyes fixed on the paper as Darcy read the careful lines with a creased brow. When this latter had finished the task, he sat looking bereft and grave.

Bingley could not bear the expectancy. Darcy sighed and closed his eyes as he took his palm to his eyes to cover his visage.

"It is true, then?"

"Yes," Darcy answered. "Even worse than true. I am afraid I was very much to blame for all that has happened."

Losing his patience, Bingley exclaimed, "Speak, but not in riddles, Darcy. I must know all about this!"

Darcy could not look his friend in the eye. It was exceedingly difficult for him to speak of his own follies. "I had information that might have prevented it, but I chose to keep silent. I am sorry now, but it is all too late."

"What do you mean information?"

Darcy hesitated. Could he disclose all the information regarding Georgiana and Wickham? Would it be fair to his sister? Was it any of Bingley's business anyway? Certainly it was not. He had already spoken too much about it. "I am sorry, Bingley. I cannot let you know any particulars. I have behaved shamefully, that is undoubtedly true. I am very sorry for the inconveniencies that my conduct might have caused to you or Miss Bennet."

Such a speech was hardly tolerable. Bingley could not believe his own ears, nor did he believe that the man who was speaking was the same man whose wisdom and confidence he had sought so many times. Huffing and puffing with anger, exceedingly red, nay almost violet in the face, Bingley vented his anger "Inconveniences? Damn you, Darcy! You have betrayed me! Ruined all prospects of happiness in my life!"

There was that in Bingley's face which caused Darcy even to flinch a little. Inwardly, he thought Bingley was making a tempest in a teacup. After all, Darcy thought his conduct might have ruined his own prospect of domestic felicity with the woman he loved...but Bingley's? Unless his friend thought that a connection with the Bennet family in light of the youngest girl's comportment was reprehensible. "It was unconsciously done," he said almost in a whisper.

"Unconsciously done! This is unbelievable! You know you have acted wrong, nay, not wrong, abominably wrong, and still think you can extricate yourself so easily? Have you nothing rational to urge in your defence?"

"What do you wish that I say?"

"More than a lady's reputation has been ruined, Darcy!"

"It certainly has been more than one lady's reputation ruined here, Bingley. I know. My faults are great. Faults of inconsideration, and thoughtlessness and pride. Abominable pride."

"Pride! Pride is the smallest of your faults!"

Darcy failed to comprehend the depth of his friend's discomfiture, hence did not imagine what Bingley's reaction would be when he tried to get rid of him. "I have had enough of you, Bingley. I must beg you to..." but he could not finished. For Bingley, letting out a horrid growl, sprung out and seized Darcy by the neck-cloth, attempting furiously to beat him.

With what great shock Darcy saw his friend marching upon him! Indeed, with flame in his eyes, Bingley attacked him. Darcy's astonishment paralysed him for a few seconds, never for a moment believing that what was actually going on, was, in truth, going on. "You see no reason? You see no reason?" cried Bingley almost strangling Darcy. "You have degraded my fiancée to the lowest, you dog! You have ruined her for me and for any other!"

"Bingley, I have not..."

But there was no word that could calm Bingley. Looking at his now enemy fiercely in the face, he struck him twice over the face with his open hand, challenging him to a duel. Of course, Darcy would not have it. Without knowing entirely what he was he doing, he struck Bingley back with his fist, flinging him bleeding to the ground.

"There. This is all the fighting you shall extricate from me. You can fight a duel with Spencer if that is your wish. As for me, you can write about my cowardice in the Gazette, I do not care."

And he left him without another word.

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