| Colonel Fitzwilliam Lends a Hand Section III |
| Part VI Darcy stopped in his tracks at the sound of her words. She had not consciously intended for them to be heard by anyone but herself, but apparently her subconscious wanted to make a statement, and Darcy did hear her. Oh dear, what must he think of me? How could I have been so forward? she worried. He turned around, his face shining with rapture. She loved him! She had said it in words! No other encouragement was needed, and no more time to be wasted. He strode back to her and dropped to his knees. "Say it again Elizabeth, please say it again!" he pleaded. She placed a hand on his head and stroked his hair. "My love," she whispered. He looked up at her, eyes glowing with unshed tears. "I was planning to wait until I was in Hertfordshire to do this properly, but I can wait no longer. Elizabeth, from almost the earliest moments of our acquaintance I have come to feel for you a passionate admiration and regard which has grown stronger with each passing day that I know you. I wish for nothing more in the world than to have you by my side, my partner and my wife. Will you marry me Elizabeth?" She at first smiled, then began laughing. Laughter was certainly not what he was expecting to hear, so he looked up at her with a bit of worry in his countenance. "I am sorry Mr. Darcy, perhaps laughter is not the appropriate reaction, but I am so happy that a smile could not contain all my joy. I freely give you my heart, and would be honored to be your wife." Still on his knees, he embraced her waist tightly, then jumped to his feet to plant tiny kisses all over her face. Her arms circled his neck as she laughed again. "Poor Georgiana! She will wonder what has become of you!" "She will be fine. Once I explain what detained me, I'm sure she will say that she would have gladly waited another fortnight if I had needed it." He indulged himself by holding her a few moments longer, then took his real leave. "I shall be at Longbourn in a day or two to speak with your father. Have a safe journey! I love you!" he called out before climbing into the carriage and driving away. A day or two had never seemed like such a long time. Needless to say, Georgiana was quite pleased by the developments between her brother and future sister. The whole carriage ride back to their townhouse was not long enough to contain all of her effusive expressions of joy, and she was still chattering excitedly as they walked into the house. Darcy only smiled dreamily, not really hearing what his sister was saying. When they arrived home, he kissed her on the forehead and retired to his study to write a few letters. * * * * * * * * * * * Several days later, encampment of the -th regiment in northern England... Well, well, I truly underestimated my talents as a matchmaker! mused Colo nel Fitzwilliam as he read Darcy's letter. With only a few words, I was able to make Elizabeth go from hating my poor cousin to loving him enough to agree to marry him! He chuckled, but could not help feeling a slight sting of disappointment and jealousy; he too had admired Elizabeth, and though he had willingly helped his cousin to win her, he wondered what might have happened if he had not. Would he now be the one imparting happy news to Darcy? She has no fortune, tis true, but there are other virtues...it is not as if my living as a soldier is dreadful. We would have lived sparingly, but I am sure we could have been happy... He threw aside the letter, angry with himself both for thinking this way and for begrudging his cousin his happiness. What I said to him was true: he deserves to be happy at last. Elizabeth is the only woman for him; he deserves her love, and she deserves to marry someone she loves in return. She felt only friendship for me, and I would not wish her to marry for any reason other than the very deepest love. He sighed sadly once more, but as our dear friend was not of a melancholy disposition, he determined to be in spirits again directly. He picked up the letter to finish reading it. ...and though he admitted to being surprised when Elizabeth first told him of our engagement, Mr. Bennet did not see any reason to deny my suit, and shook my hand with a smile. Had she not warned me of his biting wit, I may have been affronted by his blunt manner, but I could see the twinkle in his eye. I suppose I smiled very widely at this, for he laughed at me and said my reaction rivaled Bingley's. I can well imagine it did, for I could not remove the stupid grin from my face for the rest of the evening. I am so very happy Richard, and I know whom I have to thank for that. I shall never be able to properly express my gratitude for the aide you gave me in Kent. Without your wise counsel and kind friendship, I would still be the proud, disagreeable man Elizabeth hated; she would probably have remained deceived by Wickham, and perhaps (I shudder at the thought) even have received HIS addresses! You did me the greatest service by opening my eyes! I realize what it may have cost YOU as well, for though I was blind to many things, I did not fail to notice that you also were bewitched by her, and she seemed to enjoy your company as well. In truth, I was insanely jealous of you, and feared that eventually her lack of wealth and connections would cease to matter to you, just as they did for me. That you gave up your chance of happiness with Elizabeth for my sake truly speaks much of your character and friendship for me, for I doubt I could have had the strength to do the same in the reverse situation. I have always thought highly of you, cousin, but now I see how truly good you really are. I thank God for you. Fitzwilliam was very affected by these words. He did not realize that Darcy had noticed his admiration of Elizabeth; he was very moved, however, by his cousin's sentiments, and berated himself even further for his earlier selfish thoughts. I must cut this letter short, for Bingley and I are to go to Longbourn this morning. We have planned the double wedding for the end of July in Hertfordshire. Bingley extends to you an invitation to stay at Netherfield for as long a time as you wish before the wedding. I do hope you will come; Georgiana is to join us next week, and she longs to see you again. Again I thank you, and from my heart, wish you equal joy in your turn, for you are the best of men and deserve every blessing life can bestow. Yours, etc., Darcy Now Fitzwilliam really felt guilty about his jealousy. Darcy's letter was the most generous praise he had ever heard, especially from his cousin. All he had done was help them clear up their misunderstandings, and Darcy was acting as if he had ended war and hunger in Europe! Still, it was gratifying to be so well thought of by so discerning a man as his cousin, and his kind wishes caused a slight lump in his throat. He smiled and sat down to pen his reply. Back in Hertfordshire... Darcy gave Fossett the letter he had just written to Colonel Fitzwilliam as he walked out the door with Bingley. Just yesterday he had obtained Mr. Bennet's consent, and today would be the official announcement of his engagement to Elizabeth. The stupid grin still had not left his face, a fact that Bingley could not help but tease him about. "Isn't it grand Darcy? We are to be brothers after all! I am starting to feel like it already; why, you are even beginning to look like me, smiling all the time!" Had he not been so content, Darcy might have glared at his friend, but nothing could disturb him, and his smile only grew. When they arrived, it was obvious that Mrs. Bennet had been informed of the glad tidings, for her demeanor towards Darcy had undergone a complete transformation. She was too much in awe of him to speak much, but when she did it was in the warmest tones with great compliments. Mr. Bennet called all the Bennets to the drawing room, where he formally announced the engagement, adding that he had sent a notice to the newspapers that very morning. They were all very happy for their sister, though Lydia could not quite understand why anyone would care for a man who did not wear a redcoat. When calm resumed, Bingley suggested a walk, and Darcy and Elizabeth readily agreed, eager to escape her mother's growing attentions. Upon arriving at Oakham Mount, Darcy pulled Elizabeth behind some shrubbery, slightly away from the other couple, wishing a few minutes of privacy with his beloved. He leaned down to kiss her, but her bonnet impeded his progress, so he untied it. Unfortunately, the wind chose that moment to blow forcefully, and the bonnet flew out of his hand and down the hill. "Oh dear!" she cried. "Look what you have done Mr. Darcy!" she accused with a raised eyebrow. "I am terribly sorry my dear. I suppose this is my punishment for having naughty intentions," he said with a wink. "I will go fetch it for you." He gave her a sweet little peck on the cheek, then left her to fetch the bonnet, which was now quite far at the bottom of the hill. She watched him as he dashed away, laughing and thinking how fortunate she was when she heard a twig snap behind her. Thinking it was Jane and Bingley, she turned around with a smile. She started when she saw whom it actually was. "Miss Bennet! I thought I heard your delightful laughter! How do you do?" said Mr. Wickham, kissing her hand as he bowed. Her stomach turned at the feel of his lips on her hand, but she fought the urge to yank her hand away and slap him. "How do you do Mr. Wickham?" she asked with cold civility. "I am better now," he said charmingly. "I have missed your company greatly. Ugh, please spare me your empty compliments. "Have you? And what of Miss King?" she asked archly. He looked down with embarrassment. "Em, well, our engagement was never formalized. Her uncle felt that she was too young to marry, and so refused his consent and took her back to Liverpool." Fortunate girl! she thought. "That must have been a great disappointment for you. I hope the attachment was not too strong." He looked at her with all the emotion he could muster. "It was indeed a disappointment, but I think you know that my affections belonged to another." She blushed at this obvious reference to herself and turned her head in disgust. He took her reaction as encouragement and spoke again. "I am sure you are aware that you hold my heart entirely in your hands Elizabeth." She looked up, shocked at his familiar appellation as much as by his statement. What does he mean to accomplish with this little declaration? "You know that my situation keeps me from marrying where I wish." Yes, and you inflicted that on yourself with your behavior! "Still," he said, stepping closer and grasping her hand, "there are other ways to be with the one you love." She took back her hand and looked at him incredulously. Was he about to say what she thought he was going to say? "Elizabeth, you know I must marry for money, but it is you whom I wish to be my lover. Agree to be my mistress, and I shall see that you are cared for always!" She stared at him, mouth agape, eyes burning with fury. The nerve of the man! To think that she would be someone's mistress! She could not even find the words to express her rage. "I know that what I say is shocking," he said when she did not speak. "But it is the only way I know for us to be together without starving. Your modesty does you credit, I can easily understand your anger. But please think about it; would you rather be honorable but miserable with someone you do not love, or go against archaic morals and be with the one you do love?" he asked, reclaiming her hand and stroking it gently. She again pulled away with disgust. "You are too hasty sir, and make too many assumptions about my feelings which you have no right to make," she began, anger rising. "I do not love you, have no desire to be with you, and want nothing more than to be out of your presence forever!" He looked at her with confusion. Could I have been mistaken about her regard for me? "But Elizabeth, do you not remember what you said to me before you left for Kent? I said to you that 'had circumstances been different' and you cut me off with 'had old Mr. Darcy never had a son!' What was that, if not a confirmation of mutual affection? I must admit that I am confused at your statements now." Elizabeth blushed, pained by the memory of her former dislike of her fianc�, but raised her chin defiantly. "I have done and said many things I now regret Mr. Wickham, and at the top of the list is having ever showed you any attentions that could have been construed as particular regard. Your offer is shocking and offensive, and I must beg you to leave me at once!" Realizing now that she was determined to reject him, his choler rose. "No Elizabeth, I will not leave you. I have made up my mind that I will have you; I gave you the opportunity to be a willing partner of my plans. However, now you leave me no choice but to take what I came for� by force if necessary!" With that, he grabbed her around the waist and roughly kissed her. She struggled, but he was too strong, and forced his tongue between her lips even as she tried to push him away. Suddenly she felt him being roughly pulled away as she herself was knocked to the ground. Looking up, she saw that her savior was none other than Mr. Darcy. He had returned with the bonnet in time to hear the last few moments of their exchange, but to his horror could not reach her before the villain had forced himself upon her. Now the two men stood glaring at each other. "I should have done this years ago Wickham." The other man smirked. "Done what Darcy?" "This!" Darcy yelled as his fist flew directly into Wickham's nose. Elizabeth's eyes widened, but she was not the slightest bit sorry for Wickham, who now bent over cursing Darcy with very foul language. "What are you doing?" he spat vehemently. "This!" Darcy said again, landing another punch that sent Wickham sprawling to the ground. More curses issued from his vile mouth, which was now bleeding along with his nose. Elizabeth rose to her feet and stood next to her fianc�, who put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright my dear?" he asked tenderly. She nodded, but the tears were dangerously close. Turning again to Wickham, still on the ground, he said, "As for you, you bloody demon! How dare you! Do not smirk at me like that. If you think I am going to pay you off again, you are sadly mistaken. You will not get away this time Wickham. This time you will pay; Colonel Forrester will know of this, and you will be sent away to rot in a prison until the end of your days!" "I think not old man!" yelled Wickham, jumping to his feet. In his hand he held a pistol. Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp of fear. Darcy pushed her behind his back and glared at Wickham. "Don't do anything stupid Wickham. It isn't worth your while to hurt me." "Oh, I think it is Darcy. I cannot abide the sight of you, and a well-aimed shot would free me from that nuisance." Elizabeth began sobbing. "And of course, when you fall down, Miss Elizabeth will be all alone�" he said menacingly, a nasty sneer making his handsome face suddenly terribly ugly. Darcy glared venomously at his enemy, his eyes in tiny slits. Wickham cocked the pistol and pointed it right at Darcy's chest. Elizabeth felt Darcy's body tense with fear, and desperately hoped that if he were shot, the bullet would have the kindness to hit her as well. She was weeping uncontrollably now; when she heard a sharp cry and the sound of the pistol firing, she fainted. Part VII Darcy cried out in pain as the bullet hit his leg. Wickham was unconscious on the ground, and behind him stood Bingley with a large rock in his hands. He at first stood staring at the man on the ground, then threw the rock aside and ran to his friend. "Darcy, are you alright man?" he asked with concern. "Yes, yes, it's just a flesh wound. Is Elizabeth alright? I felt her fall just before I was shot." Bingley looked at Elizabeth, lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. Jane, who had been standing with her mouth open and tears flowing down her face, now ran to her sister's side. "Lizzy? Lizzy, can you hear me? Oh please wake up Lizzy!" she cried desperately. Elizabeth responded with a slight murmur before opening her eyes again. "Oh Jane!" she sobbed, hugging her sister tightly. "Jane, has he been shot? I heard the pistol go off! Is he dead? Please tell me he is not dead Jane, or I shall die myself!" Darcy dragged himself over to her and touched her. At his touch she released Jane and wrapped his arms around his neck and began kissing his face with desperate urgency. "Oh Fitzwilliam! My darling, my love! I thought you were dead� I thought�" Her sobs would not her finish the sentence, but words were not necessary. He held her tightly, thanking God for Bingley's timely arrival. When at last her sobs subsided, she looked back up at him. "What happened Fitzwilliam? I heard the pistol go off." Bingley replied. "Jane and I heard the scuffle, and when I came to investigate, there was Wickham aiming the pistol. I picked up the largest rock I could find and knocked it onto his head. Unfortunately his finger was on the trigger, so Darcy was still shot, but fortunately it was only in the leg!" Elizabeth looked down at the injury and began bawling again. "Oh my love!" she cried out. "That hateful man!" She stood up, eyes full of fury, and began kicking and beating Wickham's unconscious form with her fists. Bingley restrained her as her curses grew louder, and Jane tried to soothe her anger, but it was only when Darcy called her over that she stopped abusing Wickham's yet motionless form. "Calm down Elizabeth. I have something more helpful for you to do. Run back to Longbourn for help; get rope to tie him with, the carriage to take me back, and a few servants to help get Wickham." As soon as she was gone, he ventured to look at his wound. The bullet had hit the side of his thigh, but had not lodged in his flesh. He was, however now bleeding profusely, and was beginning to feel light-headed. He gave Jane his jacket, asking her to rip off the sleeve and make a tourniquet to tie around his leg. Bingley had by this time picked up the pistol and was aiming it at Wickham should he awaken. He was (unfortunately) still breathing, but would require medical attention soon. After several minutes, Elizabeth returned with her father, 3 servants, and the carriage. The other men helped Darcy in and tied Wickham up. During this process, the villain awoke and tried to struggle, but a firm punch in the face courtesy of Mr. Bennet put him in his place. "Try to hurt my Lizzy, eh?" he was heard to mumble. The carriage went first to Longbourn to leave Darcy in the care of Jane and Elizabeth, then left again with Wickham, escorted by Bingley and Mr. Bennet. The gentlemen reported to Colonel Forrester immediately, informing him of the events of the past hour. The colonel was enraged, but not entirely surprised that Wickham's character was severely lacking, as he had rumors of gaming debts and seductions. By this time the villain was again conscious, but made no effort to defend himself; he knew he was defeated. Unable to deny the charges laid at his door, Wickham was sentenced to undergo a court-martial in London as soon as possible, and a prison wagon was summoned to carry him thither at once. Satisfied, Bingley and Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn. Meanwhile, Mr. Jones had been to see Darcy and determined that he would mend completely with the proper rest and care (provided, of course, by Elizabeth), and was not by any means to be moved for at least a week. Darcy and Elizabeth both groaned internally at the thought of him spending a week under the same roof with Mrs. Bennet, but Elizabeth was quickly able to convince her mother that it would be quite improper and offensive for his future mother-in-law to see him in his bedclothes. The other gentlemen arrived as the physician was leaving, and were pleased to receive a favorable report from him, although Mr. Bennet felt great pity for the poor man; not only had he been shot, but he would have to spend all those days with the silliest women in England. He resolved to provide him with as much port as would be necessary for a week with Mrs. Bennet. Surprisingly, the week passed pleasantly enough. Elizabeth kept a constant vigil (with the door open and at least one chaperone, usually Jane and Bingley, of course), reading, sewing, or just chatting with him as he healed. Sometimes she would go out for a walk and bring him flowers. He teased that he should be the one caring for her this way, but she responded that it was the least she could do after he had so gallantly rescued her bonnet from the wind's evil clutches. Both were still too uncomfortable to speak of what had occurred in direct terms, but he knew that Elizabeth was extremely grateful for coming to her rescue, and for the simple fact that he was still alive to tell the tale. On the Saturday one week after the incident, Darcy prepared to leave for Netherfield, his wound well on its way to healing, and his leg even able to support some of his weight, though he needed a crutch. When he joined the family for breakfast, a loud cheer erupted from the table. He sheepishly took the seat next to Elizabeth as Mr. Bennet offered a toast "to our very own hero." As they ate, an express came addressed to Darcy from Colonel Forrester. My dear sir, Though we have not met since the Wickham incident, I felt that as his victim you should be first to know what has happened. The prison wagon took him to London last week as planned, and he was kept in a barracks awaiting his court- martial. It appears that he used his charms to convince several of the prisoners to organize a riot Thursday night. Fortunately it was quelled with little effort and loss of life; however, not all of the rioters were spared during the brief skirmish, and Wickham himself was one of the unlucky ones, and was shot in the gut. George Wickham was pronounced dead at 5:27 this morning. I know that this news will not heal your wounds any more quickly, nor will it take back the mortification and pain suffered by Miss Bennet, but I hope it does offer you some consolation that your troubles with him are over. I wish you a speedy recovery, sir, and may God bless you. Your faithful servant, Colonel James Forrester Darcy sat in shock for several minutes before realizing that Elizabeth was speaking to him. He turned to her, vaguely understanding that she wished to know what ailed him. He just handed her the letter, still unable to utter any words. It had been a long while since he had liked George Wickham, and the b*****d had even tried to kill him, but for some reason all he could think of now were happy memories of their childhood at Pemberley. He quickly excused himself before tears could be seen forming in his eyes, but forgot about his leg and fell to the ground before he could run off. Mr. Bennet jumped up to help him, and took him to the library. As soon as the door closed, the tears began to flow uncontrollably. Mr. Bennet offered him a glass of brandy, then just gazed at his future son-in-law as he released all the emotions that had been so bottled up for not only the past week, but the past several years. A soft knock interrupted the silence, and both men knew at once that it was Elizabeth. Darcy turned his head to face the door and eagerly called for her to come in. Her face was also streaked with tears, and she ran to embrace and comfort him. "I'm so sorry my dear. I know how this must affect you," she whispered, while he merely sobbed into her dress. Mr. Bennet put a soft hand on Elizabeth's shoulder to indicate that he would leave them alone for a bit, and returned to the dining room. By this time the contents of the letter had been shared with the rest of the family, and Mrs. Bennet was already upstairs with a fit of nerves. As Mr. Bennet and Jane tried to calm the other girls down, Mr. Bingley was announced. He walked in, cheerful as ever, and encountered a room full of morose faces. "My, what a dreadful-looking lot! You all look as if someone has died!" he joked, but was immediately sobered by the tears in Jane's eyes. "Someone has not died, have they? Is Darcy alright?" he asked with sudden concern. "He will be my boy. He was very disturbed by some news which he has this morning received from London," replied Mr. Bennet. "Good God, what is the matter? It is not Georgiana is it? Is someone ill? What has happened?" "Mr. Wickham is dead," Jane said softly, before bursting into tears. "What? Dead?" Bingley paled. "It was not because of my actions was it? I did not think I hit him so hard� I am not a murderer!" "No sir, it had nothing to do with you. Here is the letter from Colonel Forrester, read it yourself." Bingley read the missive, and although he was relieved to be innocent of Wickham's death, was still distressed. "This is very difficult news indeed. Darcy must have been very affected." "He was. Lizzy is consoling him in the library. I am sure they will return when he is recovered. In the meantime, may I offer you some tea?" Elizabeth seated herself on Darcy's lap and kissed his forehead over and over as he cried, knowing that when he had words he would speak. After several excruciating minutes, he did. "Elizabeth�I do not understand myself. I had fully expected to feel joy and relief at the news of Wickham's death. Instead I am filled with an inexplicable sorrow. He has done me so much wrong over the years, purposely inflicted pain, sullied my character, nearly separated me from those I love most, and yet I weep for him as if he were my brother." "In a way he was, my love," she replied. He smiled ruefully. "I suppose�but still, after hating him for so long, why is it that I can only picture running to Lambton together as boys, fishing, playing pirates�" A small grin played on his lips at the memories. "I don't understand it!" he cried with frustration. "The answer is very simple my dear. The truth is, you are too good at heart to truly hate anyone, no matter the wrong they have done you. Perhaps if your experience with Wickham had been always bad, it would be easier, but because of your affection for him early in life, you could never quite bring yourself to casting him off completely. He always had a small place in your heart. I believe that, against your will, you are forgiving him." He held her tightly. "I should not forgive him. He does not deserve it." "Perhaps not. But you are doing it all the same." He sighed. "I believe you are right Elizabeth, though I wish you were not. I dearly wish that I could only think badly of him and laugh at the prospect of his soul burning in hell forever. Instead I pity him, and wish I could have helped him before. Perhaps if I had given him the living when he had asked for it�" "No Fitzwilliam, that will not do. You always acted justly and correctly; do not doubt yourself now. He may be dead, but that does not remove all his guilt. There was nothing more you could have done for him," then, more softly, "I pity him as well, for he never realized all that you would have done for him if he had been as good a friend to you as you were to him. But he is in God's hands now, and there is nothing more you can do. He will get what he deserves, and whatever that entails is out of your control." He gazed at her intensely, admiration and respect glowing in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you are the most amazing person I have ever met. God, how I adore you! I do not know how I ever won you, but I am so thankful that I did!" "Well sir, you know it is not just the wicked who get what they deserve." She smiled so warmly that he could not longer resist touching her lips with his own. She pulled his face closer with her hands, intensifying the kiss. It was a relief to kiss him again at last; the last kiss she had received was Wickham's. The difference between her body's reaction to that kiss and this one was incredible. Every fiber of her being wanted to participate in this moment. Indeed, the heightening of her desire frightened her a bit, but she could not tear herself away from his warm lips. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her as close as she could get. She felt herself being carried completely away by passion, and knew she could deny him nothing at that moment, when he suddenly pulled away. "Why did you stop?" she breathed impulsively. "Believe me Elizabeth," he replied, his breathing just as ragged, "it took all my power to do so; I have no desire to stop kissing you ever. But if I did not stop there, I would not have stopped at all." The passion burning in his eyes told her how serious he was. "I do not think I could have stopped either," she admitted. "I did not know it was possible to feel so much desire." "Oh yes, like that and much more," he replied, indulging himself by burying his face in her neck and touching her curls. "I have felt it for you since last fall." She sighed as he planted soft kisses along the side of her neck, moving forward to her throat, and down, past the little indentation at its base. He suddenly stopped again, a look of acute embarrassment covering his face as he practically pushed Elizabeth off his lap and quickly crossed his legs. She looked at him curiously, a bit put out. "What was that about?" she asked indignantly. "Um� let us just say that you cause certain� reactions in me that I cannot control, my dear, and I do not want you, um, exposed to any of that until later� for example, our wedding night?" Her eyes widened and she blushed from top to bottom as she vaguely understood his meaning. "Oh my," she whispered, utterly embarrassed. He laughed. "It's alright darling; I've grown quite used to this affliction since meeting you," he teased mischievously, causing her to blush more deeply. "There is quite a simple cure." He closed his eyes, and she swore she heard him mutter, "Caroline Bingley in an orange gown� Caroline Bingley in a wet orange gown� ugh!" He shuddered, then reopened his eyes. "There; I am cured." He winked and reached for her hand. "Help me up my dear, we should return to the dining room before your father comes here to salvage your honor." She smiled brightly at him, relieved that his sorrow had been soothed. They returned to the family, who were all sitting quietly drinking their tea. Upon the sight of his friend, Bingley jumped out of his seat and ran to him. "Darcy old man! I just heard the news. How are you?" Darcy shook his friend's hand and smiled down at Elizabeth. "I think I shall be just fine Bingley." The tension in the room lightened tremendously, and soon everyone was chatting amiably, if in a little more subdued manner than before. Just as the atmosphere had calmed, everything was commotion again when a carriage was heard in the drive. They had barely had time to wonder at whom it could be when Colonel Fitzwilliam (hurrah!) strode into the room. "Fitzwilliam!" Darcy cried happily. "Mr. Bennet, may I introduce my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Richard, this is Mr. Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Kitty Bennet, and Miss Lydia Bennet. You know Bingley and Elizabeth." Fitzwilliam bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you. I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, but when I heard about my cousin's condition, I could not but come immediately. Darcy, I am very upset that I had to find out from outside sources, and poor Georgiana is ignorant of it still." "I did not wish to cause concern Fitzwilliam. I knew that Georgiana would be distressed, as would you. I was going to write when I returned to Netherfield today." Fitzwilliam gave him a withering stare. "Truly I was! And to Georgiana too!" His cousin smiled and patted Darcy's shoulder. "Alright old boy, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt since you are injured, but don't get used to it!" He turned to Elizabeth and kissed her hand. "Miss Bennet, it is a true pleasure to see you again! I'm glad to see that you have spent so much time with my ogre of a cousin without doing any damage to your fair self." "I am not an ogre!" Darcy cried with indignation, only eliciting laughter from the entire table. "I'm not," he muttered under his breath, pouting. Elizabeth touched his arm. "There, there, my love. You are not an ogre. I was thinking that our story is more like Beauty and the Beast. I am the Beauty of course," she teased, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "That I cannot argue with my dear," he replied, tenderly kissing her hand, both completely forgetting about the others in the room. "Well, I see things haven't changed much since Kent," the colonel remarked as he rolled his eyes. "The poor things are as desperately in love as ever!" He could not suppress his smile at seeing his cousin's joy however, and was even able to ignore the tiny stab of jealousy that remained. Fitzwilliam was given the letter from Colonel Forrester, as he had not yet heard the news, but was the least affected by it. "Humph, got what he deserved I say. After all he's done, it's fitting. Good riddance." No more was said of the topic that day. * * * * * * * * * Unbeknownst to Darcy and Elizabeth, another formidable challenge was about to present itself in the form of Lady Catherine DeBourgh. Mrs. Collins had received a letter from her mother imparting the news of the upcoming nuptials of the Bennet girls, and Mr. Collins had seen fit to inform Lady Catherine of the joyous news. Of course, she was NOT so content as he had hoped, and declared in a rage that she would knock that pretentious little upstart back down where she belonged. Not hearing Anne's soft protests that she did not wish to marry Darcy anyway, she immediately packed her bags and set off for Hertfordshire. * * * * * * * * * A day had passed since the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy's return to Netherfield, and Elizabeth was surprised at how lost she felt without having him nearby. Of course, he was only three miles off, but as they had just parted, it would not do to run over and see him again right away. Instead she tried to content herself with walking around the gardens and thinking of him. She stooped down to pick a few flowers (Sweet Williams of course!) when she heard the sound of carriage wheels on the drive. She practically ran to greet it, certain that it would be her fianc�, but upon seeing the chaise she realized it was certainly not Darcy. The livery was not unknown to her, as she had ridden in a similar equipage several weeks earlier; she groaned as she recognized the insignia of Lady Catherine DeBourgh. What is that witch doing here? she wondered, slowing her pace to appear more dignified in front of the hideous old bat. The look of disgust on Lady Catherine's face as she stepped out of the coach did not lessen when she saw Elizabeth before her. Her countenance seemed to pinch even tighter, and she looked as if she had just eaten a lemon. Once down the steps of the coach, she walked up to Elizabeth with her nose in the air. "You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, as to my reasons for coming here." "Indeed, I cannot account for the honor Lady Catherine." "Do not trifle with me Miss Bennet. I have received news of a most alarming nature, and set out to determine its truth at once." "Would your ladyship care to tell me what this terrible news is?" "I was informed that not only was your sister to be most advantageously married, but that YOU, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, were also engaged� to MY nephew, Mr. Darcy! Though I knew it must be a scandalous falsehood, I set out immediately to make my sentiments known." "I do not understand Lady Catherine. If you believed it to be false, why did you take the trouble to come here?" Lady Catherine glared at her. "Why, to save my nephew from your arts and allurements before it was too late! I have brought Anne with me, and a special license. They are to be married in two days, and there is nothing you can do about it!" Next section... |