One Week Late

(Cover art by Emily Richards)

Warning: The original pairings of Pride & Prejudice and Persuasion will not be maintained in this story. All the characters within are my best interpretation of canon but because Charles rented Kellynch instead of Netherfield, everything has changed. Anything is possible…

Prologue  

      Charles Bingley, who had been recommended by a friend to take a charming estate in Hertfordshire, was distracted for almost a week by the unexpected arrival of one of his many acquaintances. By the time he made his way to Mr. Morris’s office, Netherfield had already been let to an older couple in the navy, making the most of the current peace. Bingley was not one to be easily disappointed and his inquiries into other situations soon resulted in an equally suitable arrangement. A Mr. Shepherd had just let Mr. Morris know of a grand estate to be let in Somersetshire, Kellynch Hall.

      A change of location was very little bother to Charles, and upon hearing the description from Mr. Shepherd he felt very well disposed to take Kellynch, to arrange a viewing, and hope to arrive at Michaelmas for the shooting season. Mr. Shepherd returned to Kellynch in haste, hoping that he might convince Sir Walter that Mr. Bingley would be an acceptable tenant.

      Admiral and Mrs. Croft, back in England for the first time in many years and wishing for any retiring place in the country, had by chance gone to London, to meet some friends, and been persuaded to take an estate in Hertfordshire, where they would have both the ease of the country and town, it being a very short distance to London from Netherfield. The situation was exactly suited to their needs and they took the place for Michaelmas.

      Mrs. Croft invited her brother, Captain Wentworth, also idle, to come and stay with them. He requested that his friend, Captain Benwick be allowed to accompany him. Benwick had been staying with his late fiancé’s family in Lyme, but it was not doing him good to dwell upon his misery and Wentworth hoped that the change of scenery would do him good. Everything was agreed, though the two captains were not able to come as early as Mrs. Croft would have liked. The couple moved in alone, with the others hoping to come in a week or two.

And thus the scene was set for two very different stories….

Hertfordshire

      “My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “Have you heard that Netherfield is let at last?”

      He replied that he had not.

      “But it is, not that it will be of any consequence to our family, for only an older couple is to take it, without a marriageable man among them.”

      “What is his name?”

      “Admiral Croft, a man of some fortune I must suppose. But it is nothing to us.”

      “Why should it be nothing to us? You will want me to visit him when he comes?”

      “You know I had hoped it would be taken by a single young man of fortune.”

      “Was that the design of the family when they put it to be let?”

      “Design? Nonsense, how can you talk so? But I thought it very likely whomever took the house would have a young man among them, perhaps of four or five thousand a year, and then he may fall in love with one of our daughters.”

      “I am very sorry for our sake that they did not write it into the terms of the lease.”

      “It is quite disagreeable, at our time of life, to be making new acquaintance every day. I can only hope that these Crofts will not take it for above a year, that we may try again with new tenants.”

      “If you wish, I shall write to Mr. Morris and suggest that he search out single tenants when he shows the place in the future.”

      “I desire you to do no such thing; I suppose I must make the best of it and hope that he has many unmarried friends in the navy. I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well—and, indeed, so I do still at my heart; but a blue coat will do just the same and if a smart young captain, with five or six thousand a year, should want one of my girls, I shall not say nay to him.”

      “When I welcome him to the neighbourhood; I shall suggest it.”

      “Nonsense, nonsense, do you take delight in vexing me? You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”

      “You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.”

      “Ah, you do not know what I suffer.”

      “But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.”

      “Well these Crofts are no use, and I shall not see them when they come.”

      Mr. Bennet had well resolved to visit the Crofts, no matter their use to his daughters or their marriage prospects, he set out a few days after their arrival to find that they would be far more helpful than his wife had imagined. He was informed that two such young men would be coming: Captains Wentworth and Benwick. He was soon aware that each of them had significant fortunes from prize money. On that intelligence, and without telling his wife, he arranged to have the entire party for dinner once the young men arrived.

Somersetshire

      Mr. Sheppard, with all his success in London, now only had to convince his employer that only a Mr. Bingley, from a respectable family in the north of England, would be an acceptable tenant for the indebted home of a spendthrift baronet. He approached the conversation therefore, with some delicacy of manner and for assistance, brought his daughter Mrs. Clay.

      “I observe, Sir Walter, that whomever takes Kellynch will be a rather fortunate gentleman. I must think that they will acutely feel the compliment of gracing these halls and grounds.”

      “He would be a very lucky man, Shepherd,” replied Sir Walter; “a fortunate man indeed! I am not convinced that any Mr. might be worth of it.”

      Mr. Sheppard then said, “And a gentleman, be he of good fortune, cannot be protested, if he is well educated and goes about well in society.”

      “Now I must inquire as to the source of his wealth, for it seems you wish to obscure it.”

      “As I must observe, it is a common thing in these days for wealth to come from trade,” as Sir Walter seemed about to protest, Mr. Shepherd continued rapidly, “but it is from a respectable line and every association has been cut.”

      Anne now spoke, “It must not be contemptable for a fortune to be made in such a manner. We all of us rely on commerce; I must admire a man who strives for his station.”

      “Very true, very true, What Miss Anne says, very true,” was Mr. Shepherd’s rejoinder, and “Oh, certainly!” was Mrs. Clay’s. But Sir Walter was not so convinced.

      “I am not one to bestow favours on a man raised up past the station and notions of his father or grandfather. But further, I have often observed men of trade to have a distinct lack of fashion in their dress and more importantly, an overall lack of distinction in their visage. I have never seen a man of trade who is not uncommonly plain. Broad-faced and vulgar every one, even when they send the very best forward!”

      “Ah, Sir Walter,” said Mrs. Clay, “We cannot all be born handsome. Yes, there is a great difference between those who might work for their living and be always worn with the cares and difficulties of their profession. Mr. Bingley, my father has told me, has suffered none of this. He is just come from his education and has never touched the business himself. By his father’s and grandfather’s labour he benefited, his looks have not been worn by his own endeavours.”

      Mr. Shepherd continued, “He is a most desirable tenant, let me assure you. He means to bring an unmarried sister to keep the house. He is unmarried and has no children. What can be a better preserver of furniture but the absence of children! You would never want a bachelor on his own! Perish the thought, but a young man with a responsible sister is the best sort of tenant. Besides, he has agreed to all the standard terms.”

      “As to all that,” rejoined Sir Walter coolly, “supposing I were induced to let my house, I have by no means made up my mind as to the privileges to be annexed to it. I am not particularly disposed to favour a tenant. The park would be open to him of course, and few gentlemen, can have had such a range; but what restrictions I might impose on the use of the pleasure-grounds, is another thing. I am not fond of the idea of my shrubberies being always approachable; and I should recommend Miss Elliot to be on her guard with respect to her flower garden. I am very little disposed to grant a tenant of Kellynch Hall any extraordinary favour, I assure you, be he gentleman or not.”

      “In all these cases, there are established usages which make everything plain and easy between landlord and tenant. Your interest, Sir Walter, is in pretty safe hands. Depend upon me for taking care that no tenant has more than his just rights. I venture to hint, that Sir Walter Elliot cannot be half so jealous for his own, as John Shepherd will be for him.”

      Sir Walter was at least enough convinced to have the man come, and come Mr. Bingley did. His appearance and manners were enough to recommend him and smooth over every scruple of Sir Walter’s. He gave Mr. Bingley merit for his personal claims, his manners and style of dress, and even went so far as to remark that if he had not the curse of sandy-coloured hair, he would have been a very fine gentleman.

      Mr. Bingley, for his part, had compliments for everything he saw and everyone he met with. He was delighted by the grounds and sure that the manor, the grounds, and the society would be acceptable to his family and friend. The matter was entirely settled. At Michaelmas, Sir Walter and Elizabeth would remove to Bath and Mr. Bingley would take possession of Kellynch Hall.

      Anne, who had chosen to visit Lady Russell during the tour, had no opinion of Mr. Bingley and only wished that during her stay at Uppercross, that she would not see anything of him. It was hard for her to see the family home in other hands and she tried not to think of it, or to think of her coming stay in Bath. She could only hope that her disinclination to meet the tenants would be shared by her sister Mary.

Chapter 2

Hertfordshire

      It was nearly two weeks later when intelligence of the arriving captains came to Mrs. Bennet’s notice and she was high agitation at the news, “Now that we have not visited the Crofts; our girls shall not be able to dance with their guests at the assembly! I am sure we cannot make up for the error, for it shall seem like an offense that we have neglected the duty for so long.”

      “That would be difficult indeed,” Mr. Bennet agreed, “if our girls did wish to dance with them.”

      “Of course they must dance with them, you know very well that to dance together is a certain step towards falling in love.”

      “Mrs. Long has promised to introduce us,” said Elizabeth, who was trimming a new hat.

      “I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her.”

      “No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you.”

      “The next ball is tomorrow fortnight, that is hardly enough time for all that is required. You must visit first and then it would be returned and we must have a dinner, it is impossible to have time for it.”

      “It is fortunate then, to begin in such a forward position.”

      “I knew that the Crofts would be acquainted with rich young men, did I not say so myself? You ought to have visited them directly.”

      “How was I to know you wished me to do the opposite of your request? Is it not tiresome to make new acquaintances?”

      “Not if they may be of use to our girls! Have you no feeling for them at all? When you are dead you know they will be left with nothing.”

      “Well let us hope then, that I shall live many more years.”

      “What good with that do us if we do not know the Crofts?”

      “Indeed, how long of a time does it require to truly know anyone, they have only been here for a fortnight, but if they are to remain, I suppose we shall know them very well. What do you say Mary, you are always reading large books and making extracts?”

      Mary wished to say something wise but knew not how.

      “While Mary is arranging her thoughts, let us return to the Crofts,” said Mr. Bennet.

      “I am sick of the Crofts!” Mrs. Bennet cried.

      “I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me so before? If I had known as much from the start, I certainly would not have called on them. Admiral Croft even visited here, on Tuesday when you were with your sister. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit and invited them to dinner, I suppose we cannot escape them now.”

      The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though when the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the while.

      “I knew you took my meaning rightly, and that we would never neglect our new neighbours. I shall see to Hill directly and have the menus adjusted. Girls, you have a very excellent father. I do not know what we shall do to make amends for his kindness.”

      She passed out of the room, leaving the girls to speculate about the two captains and all their possible merits. Their father, however, would not say a word about them, no matter how they attacked him for information.

Somersetshire

      Anne had been three weeks at Uppercross when Mary, noticing the day on the calendar, declared that the Bingleys would have arrived at Kellynch. Anne’s heart was at her home, thinking of the other eyes and other limbs that would occupy those rooms, furniture, prospects, and groves. She could think of little else on Michaelmas and she had a partner in her thoughts in Mary, who said, “I am glad I did not think of it before. How low it makes me!”

      Mr. Bingley arrived and Mary deplored the necessity of visiting, declaring that she should put it off as long as she could. However, she was not easy until she had talked her husband into driving her over the next day and was in a very animated, comfortable state of imaginary agitation when she came back. Anne had very sincerely rejoiced in there being no means of her going. She wished, however, to meet the tenants, and was glad to be within when the visit was returned. They came, the master of the house was not at home, but the two sisters were together.

      Anne saw Mr. Bingley and was surprised to find him so young. He had easy, unaffected manners and a pleasant countenance. Anne found him more agreeable then she had dared to imagine. He was entirely polite and considerate to their situation, as it related to Kellynch.

      “I hope it would not be too bold to invite your family to dine with us,” he said to Mary, who was particularly happy to accept.

      To the great house he went next and was greeted with more friendliness than he had ever known. They were all delighted to meet him and he was pressed to come for dinner the very next day, his whole party. Mrs. Musgrove was quite of the mind to assemble a few of their friends from the area if dancing should be wanted. This, of course, was very agreeable to the young man and he was not pressed for long before accepting their invitation.

      The evening came and Mary and Anne might have been preparing to go had it not been for an unfortunate accident concerning little Charles that very day. He had fallen from a tree and dislocated his collar bone. The doctor had come, it was reset, the danger seemed over. Charles was determined to still go to dinner and Mary had been feeling quite hard done by.

      “You may go, I will stay with the child,” said Anne. And off they went. She had wished to go, had wanted to see the young man again, but she stayed. When her duties at the sickbed were completed, she sat reading by the door, waiting to hear how everything had gone off.

      Anne was surprised by a knock at the door, much earlier than she had expected Mary and Charles to come home. It was opened and she beheld Mr. Bingley, in company with two others. The first, a fine lady, was introduced as his unmarried sister, Miss Bingley, and the second as his friend, Mr. Darcy.

      Mr. Bingley spoke, “The Miss Musgroves have proposed a dance and we thought you would wish to join us.”

      Anne was touched, she was unused to being thought of, and she gave Mr. Bingley credit for his kind concern. But no, “I do not wish to leave the child, he may rouse.”

      “Your sister thought that the maid would be sufficient,” Mr. Bingley added, “If he does wake up, a message can be sent to the great house.”

      Anne could not be convinced; however Mr. Bingley might press her. After a few civil addresses from the other two members of the party, they took their leave. It was comforting to her to be thought of and sent for, though she did not think it right to go.

      When her sister and brother returned, she could only hear more praise of Mr. Bingley. He was most agreeable and charming. His sisters were elegant and conversant. And moreover, Mary was very impressed by Mr. Darcy. Now Anne was to hear of all his merits as well.

      “He acted quite as I liked,” Mary said, “For he was most attentive to me, as befits my rank, and when he was aware that the Miss Hayters would be dancing, I am sure that is why, he quite declined to stand up at all to dance. I think he is of the exact same mind as myself when it comes to the Hayters.”

      Charles protested, “He did not dance, but I will not allow that to be a slight to my cousins. Perhaps he does not love dancing as much as my sisters. Mr. Bingley was more the gentleman in that respect, for he danced every set and protested that we could not go on all night.”

      “More the gentleman? Mr. Bingley may be my father’s tenant, but Mr. Darcy is superior in every way. He is more handsome, taller, he is the nephew of an earl -do not forget-, and has an estate worth ten thousand a year. If he had a title, I would pronounce him perfect in every way. If your sisters were more prudent, they would have called the whole dancing scheme off and sat for cards with him.”

      “Call it off? If Mr. Darcy has no inclination to dance then why not dance with his friend? I am not one of those who neglect one fine gentleman because another is his superior.”

      “Every attention ought to be due to a man of his standing,” Mary said in a under voice, but Charles did not hear or chose not to attend to her. Anne had no motives for herself, but she admitted to herself that she liked Mr. Bingley at least. She would reserve judgement on the others for now.

      Mary turned to Anne and said, “It is a pity you would not come Anne, we wanted you to play.”

      Anne had no reply to this civility and having had her fill of Mary’s kindness, checked one last time on little Charles and then went to bed.

Chapter 3

Hertfordshire

      Mrs. Bennet was in high spirits when the two men came, with Admiral and Mrs. Croft, for her dinner with two courses. No expense could be spared when it came to such a valuable prospect for her daughters! The navy men could not have been more acceptable to her, they were everything they ought to be: handsome, polite, and reasonably rich.

      Captain Wentworth talked without shyness or reserve and soon Lydia and Kitty were rapidly asking him questions about his life aboard a ship. The family was generally ignorant, though Elizabeth, who was sitting nearby and listening to everything, smiled frequently to herself when she suspected that he was teasing her sisters.

      “We are so bereft of anything proper for dinner that I am sure I have forgotten how to use a fork,” Wentworth said, to the giggles Lydia and Kitty.

      Elizabeth could not help herself, “And you eat nothing but hard biscuits and limes the whole journey, with only wine turned to vinegar and sea water to quench your thirst.”

      Wentworth caught her eye and with a smile continued, “You have heard of our woes, madam, they are many indeed! But you have forgotten that we also must eat fish three times a day and seaweed besides.”

      “Yes, I know it to be true. Your clothes, I imagine, are unwashed for the entirety of the journey and by the end stand on their own with salt?”

      “No, I protest, for it rains enough that our clothes are always clean but for four months together we are abominably wet and cold.”

      Elizabeth was diverted and could not help but to add, “It is a wonder that any of you have survived so long and done us so much good, as a profession in general. That is no way to treat our greatest preserve against invasion.”

      “No, indeed!” cried Lydia, who very much wished to reclaim her primacy in the conversation, but without anything clever to say, continued thusly: “I have a great admiration for the navy.”

      Elizabeth could not yield such an interesting man to her sisters and she continued, “Have there been any women on board your ship? You must give me an account of their suffering.”

      “It is something I have always avoided, if it can be helped, having a woman on board. I feel that no matter one’s efforts and sacrifices, that the accommodations cannot be what a woman ought to have. I hate to hear of a woman on board, to see them on board, and no ship under my command shall ever convey ladies anywhere, if I can help it.”

      “Women are rational creatures,” Elizabeth protested, “and if they must bear with some difficulty or another, I find that most do it without complaint. No woman must expect the accommodation upon a ship to be equal to her comforts on land.”

      Mrs. Croft, who had caught the words of Elizabeth added, “You are quite right, we are not all fine ladies. We none of us expect to be in smooth water all our days.”

      Captain Wentworth could only smile and Lydia, eager to recommend herself again, asked earnestly, “But what do you eat on board? I cannot imagine it.” He returned his attention to her and Elizabeth contented herself again to listen.

      A stolen glance across the room revealed that Jane and Captain Benwick were engaged in a quiet, serious discussion. Elizabeth could not catch their words, but he had a good deal to say and by her manner, Jane had much to console. When they all sat for dinner, and when he was separated from Jane, he had little to say. Elizabeth thought him both shy and grieving and pitied him for it.

      When they all had gone and Jane and Elizabeth were alone, Elizabeth wanted a more proper account. What had they been talking about so earnestly?

      “Of poetry,” Jane said, “It was the work of some minutes to make him comfortable, but he soon began to speak and though he was shy, he is not reserved. He wanted most to talk of poetry, which from his way of talking I think he has read a great deal. I could not match his knowledge in every poet, but I think I got along well. Poor man, he is very affected by the loss of Miss Harville.”

      “Perhaps he ought to read more than just poetry,” observed Elizabeth, “If he wants to have any hope of recovering. I believe that those whose feelings are most strongly affected by poetry ought to indulge in it sparingly.”

      “He said, “Grief is itself a medicine*,” I think that is Cowper. I only think he means to find consolation or companion in his heartache. In poetry, he finds those same feelings as his own, but expressed more exactly then one can endeavour themselves.”

      “There is no harm in such a pursuit, I suppose, and it is still so recent a loss. I cannot fault him for still having feelings so acute.”

      “It is what I cannot imagine, to have waited to marry for so long, to finally achieve the rank and fortune he had required, only to return and find her gone. How can anyone survive it?”

      Elizabeth rational observed, “He is still very young, I do not think he will be lost forever.”

      “Oh, do not hint at anything,” Jane said, “I think he only likes a compassionate listener. No one should suspect me, when the gentleman I am speaking to wears black.”

      “I suspect you of nothing, but give me leave to think that no one can spend so much time in your presence without being at least somewhat in love. I am not one of those to disdain second attachments.”

      “If you had but heard him, I do not think you would speak as you do. Let us speak of Captain Wentworth instead, I did not hear most of what he was saying to you.”

      Elizabeth was happy to speak her good opinion of him and the calculation of his merit filled the rest of the evening.

*William Cowper, Charity, The Life and Works of William Cowper, 2014 (I could not find the original poem’s publication date)

Somersetshire

      Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were engaged to go shooting with Charles the next day and after breakfasting at the great house, to stay out of the way of the injured child, they came to the cottage. Anne was sitting with Mary at the table when they came in. Henrietta and Louisa Musgrove followed, both in high spirits.

      “How is little Charles?” Louisa spoke first.

      “He still must rest, poor boy, but the surgeon believes the chief of the danger has passed,” said Mary replied.

      “We are going to walk across the village with the men, would you like to come with us?” asked Louisa.

      Anne was urged again to accompany them and since Mrs. Musgrove had sent their old nurse Sarah to sit with the child, she consented. They all set out, Louisa and Henrietta on either side of Mr. Bingley, Mary beside her husband, and Mr. Darcy, Anne imagined by lack of any other suitable choice, walked beside her. The three leading the way were lively, Mary was talkative, but the final pair walked in relative silence. Anne could not regret that it was so, she was looking about the fields and bringing to mind the words of every poet she had read that had expounded on this season and its beauties.

      She stopped for a moment, to admire the withered leaves and call to mind a poem most recently read. When he finally spoke, “Are you fatigued? We will lose the others.”

      Anne turned, “No, not at all.” He looked at her curiously and she continued, “I only stopped to admire the prospect.”

      “It looks to be a good harvest,” said he.

      “To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core**,” Anne quoted, for she had been thinking of Keats.

      Mr. Darcy said, “I do not recall that quotation.”

      “I only read it myself two days ago, in a new volume of Keats. It was a fitting reading for the time of year. It seems a season of inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste.” Anne dared not speak the lines she really dwelt on:

      Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

   Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—**

      She could not think of autumn for long in happiness, for her mind turned to analogies of dying beauty, youth and life, and her own faded hopes for renewal. There seemed to be no recovery of spring in her own life.

      “I do not think of books while shooting, my mind would have been all Byron, “The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats.***”” 

      “Do you often read poetry?”

      “My sister is the true enthusiast,” he replied, “I will not claim any great proficiency.”

      “It is so good for your sister to have a willing partner in her reading, I have been lucky to have a friend with my tastes.”

      “Your sister?” he asked, with an air of disbelief.

      “No, my friend Lady Russell, she is out of the county for a few weeks.”

      They talked for some time on Blake, Keats, Byron, Scott, and Cowper. They might have continued on to Mrs. Robinson but Charles announced that they had reached the desired location for sport and the four women were obliged to turn back and find their own amusement elsewhere.

Citations (This story is set in 1814, but both of these poems were perfect and they are so close…)

**“To Autumn” from Lamia, Isabella, the Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems by John Keats, 1820

***Don Juan by Lord Byron, 1819

Chapter 4

Hertfordshire

      The Netherfield party were a welcome addition to the assembly ball, though Benwick only accompanied them and did not dance. He sought out Jane, when she was obliged to sit, and she was so engaged in talking to him that she remained until the end of the set. Captain Wentworth danced every dance, though never distinguished anybody by requesting a second, and by the end of the evening everyone’s opinion of him was set: he was the most agreeable gentleman they had ever met with.

      Mrs. Bennet’s opinion was the most sanguine of the group; for she had caught an interaction between Captain Wentworth and her sister, while obscured from sight, which gave her every impression that he would in time fix upon one of her fine girls.

      “Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match. Anybody between fifteen and thirty may have me for asking. A little beauty, and a few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and I am a lost man.”

      His sister laughed and beginning to question him further, they moved away from Mrs. Bennet’s hearing, but for her, this was all. She began to think of how many times the Netherfield and Longbourn households might be thrown together. Between Jane’s beauty, Mary’s accomplishments, and Lydia’s lively temper, she was certain that one of her girls would catch his heart. She had cheerful hopes even for Lizzy.

      Elizabeth herself had been considering how little Captain Wentworth could be compared to the other men at the assembly. She was unashamed to be delighted when he danced with her and somewhat disappointed when he did not ask her again. Elizabeth thought him superior in person, countenance, air, and walk to every other man she saw, and she told Charlotte so.

      “Have you ever seen a man of the like?” she asked.

      Charlotte smiled, “He is handsome, to be sure, but if he does mean to settle, it shall be a hard life for his wife.”

      Elizabeth scoffed, “Are we not at peace?”

      “There has been too much war in my lifetime for me to believe in lasting peace.”

      “You make me laugh Charlotte, you cannot be so world-weary yet,” Elizabeth cried.

      “It is only something to think of; a man in the navy may return to sea. Then his wife is left to make her home alone in hope of a return or travel with him, separated from every comfort she knows.”

      “Captain Wentworth has disabused us of that notion, I am told the accommodations are quite comfortable aboard a ship.”

      Charlotte looked at her friend, “From you, I expected more caution.”

      “Charlotte, can I not admire without thinking of matrimony?”

      “When a woman admires, she always should to think of matrimony. She ought to think of her future comfort and obligations.”

      “Until I am distinguished, there shall be no cold prudence from me,” Elizabeth laughed.

      “Jane looks pleasantly engaged,” Charlotte observed, glancing towards the seats where Captain Benwick and Jane were still deep in conversation.

      “You know her nature, Jane cannot but try to help everyone.”

      “He gives every appearance of interest.”

      “He gives every appearance of mourning; do you not see his black? You cannot suspect Jane of anything more.”

      “I will think Jane innocent if you tell me to, but allow me to go on suspecting him. There are not so many steps from grief to love as you may suppose.”

      “Then I shall assure you again of Jane’s goodness and leave the rest to go its own way.”

      The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. Bennet was certain that Captain Wentworth would marry one of her daughters. Elizabeth had danced with Wentworth, Jane felt she had done some good for Captain Benwick, and Lydia and Kitty were never without partners which was all they had learnt to care for at a ball. Even Mary had heard herself mentioned by Mrs. Croft as a very accomplished player. Mr. Bennet, who had waited up with them, was treated to a great deal of praise from his wife for visiting them so early and doing so much good for his daughter’s fortunes. Mrs. Bennet resolved, before going to bed, that she really ought to learn more about the navy.

Somersetshire

      The Bingley party was invited constantly to Uppercross and Mr. Bingley was only too eager to come. Within the next two days, Anne had the privilege of dining with them all.  She was placed beside Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley, the former had almost nothing to say but the latter had much to discover about Anne.

      “I cannot remember your name among the ladies presented at court,” Miss Bingley said.

      “No, I have not been to town.”

      “Not at all? I remember meeting your sister at Mrs. Grantley’s party last season.”

      “My father and sister go to town every winter, but I have always remained at home.”

      “That is singular.”

      “It was not my inclination to accompany them,” Anne said.

      This seemed to confuse Miss Bingley and she was at a loss for a moment. Anne felt a small pang of pity, it would be awkward for them to speak on regular topics. Miss Bingley must feel she could not comment on the house or grounds which Anne had been displaced from.

      “Are you enjoying the country?” Anne asked graciously.

      “Yes, very much so, I am only sorry that it is a sparse neighbourhood.”

      “It is. However, the Musgroves are apt to dine with everyone within it. You could not have chosen better acquaintances.”

      Anne watched Miss Bingley’s face, thinking that she perceived a slight downturn of her lips and a glace towards the end of the table, where the Hayters were seated. “The Musgroves are a very good sort of family,” Miss Bingley agreed in an even tone. Turning the conversation, she asked, “I suppose then, you are not acquainted with the Darcys?”

      “No, not at all.”

      “My brother and I spent the summer at Mr. Darcy’s estate in Derbyshire. I am intimate friends with his sister.”

      Anne took this as it was meant; but almost laughed to herself. Miss Bingley could not suspect how little Anne felt herself to be a rival. Anne asked to hear more about the north and Miss Bingley readily expounded on all the merits of Pemberley and her extensive knowledge of it.

      When dinner was over and the men came to the drawing room, Anne was surprised to be joined by Mr. Darcy. “Have you read any more poetry?” he asked.

      Anne smiled, “No, I never read too much myself. I believe it to be a misfortune of poetry that it may seldom be enjoyed safely by those who enjoy it completely. Those who truly love it ought to taste it but sparingly. I have been reading a novel, Waverley. Have you heard of it?”

      “I have read it.”

      “Do not tell me of the ending, I do not often have time enough to finish.”

      “Have you met the Prince?”

      “Yes, but I am not much further.”

      “I have heard that it was written by Walter Scott, the poet.”

      “Truly? Now that you have made it known, there is something in the style so like his poetry. Do you think it true?”

      “I have no reason to doubt it, a friend of mine recognized his hand. I was certain myself when I looked at it again.”

      “What did you think of it?” she asked.

      “I thought the characters very true. Compared to other novels, there was more true information and history.”

      “It is certainly a more enjoyable way to learn of a war, through the eyes of a soldier. Though I have always enjoyed reading history.”

      “Is there anything you do not read?”

      “I do not think much of fairy tales,” Anne said. They did not speak for many minutes longer, for dancing was proposed and Anne moved to the pianoforte without a thought as the couples lined up. Mr. Darcy did not join the eager dancers but instead walked to the bench where Anne sat.

      “Can I be of use to you?” he asked, gesturing towards the music.

      “No, I have no need of a book,” Anne replied and she mechanically began to play the first song. Mr. Darcy stood for a moment by her, until Miss Bingley appeared before him. He did not seem inclined to dance but he offered her his hand. Anne played on, extremely glad to be employed and desiring nothing in return but to be unobserved.

      Mr. Darcy returned after dancing with the ladies of his party. “Do you not wish to dance?” he asked.

      “No, I am never tired of playing,” Anne said.

      “Mrs. Hurst has offered to take your place,” he motioned towards her, as the couples stood waiting.

      Mary, who was anxious for the dancing to continue, interrupted, “No, Anne has quite given up dancing. She had rather play.”

      Mr. Darcy bowed to Anne and as Mary was unengaged, joined her for the next dance. Anne was left to wonder at his kindness and endure more than a few curious glances from Miss Bingley and her sister. Anne’s heart had been lost to the past for so long that she could hardly think it could ever be touched again.

Chapter 5

Hertfordshire

      The two elder girls were invited soon afterwards by Mrs. Croft to dine and make up a card table at Netherfield. Elizabeth felt all the pleasure of being distinguished, as one must imagine the sister asked in the brother’s stead.

      “Can we have the carriage?” said Jane.

      “Yes, my dears, and take care to wear blue sashes,” Mrs. Bennet said. She had, in all enthusiasm, purchased the navy list and encouraged her daughters to read it. Blue was quickly becoming the favourite colour of the household in whatever way she could contrive.

      “I should be able to go,” Lydia pouted, “I do not see why Jane and Lizzy should be able to go without me!”

      “We were not invited,” Mary observed gravely.

      “Your Aunt Phillips will have them all for dinner next week and she has invited you afterwards for games,” Mrs. Bennet said in consolation, though she did find it very odd of Mrs. Croft to distinguish only the two oldest.

      Elizabeth was glad of the opportunity to speak to Captain Wentworth alone. She could not fault him for being a little spoilt by universal admiration. When he had visited Longbourn, his time was too divided for her liking and she would admit to herself that she wished him more particular.

      Dinner was a lively event, for even Benwick was less melancholy in the company of his friends and between the four residents of Netherfield, there was much to tell of the sea, distant lands, and daring battles. Mrs. Croft had been on a ship almost as much as her husband and nearly more than her brother and Elizabeth found her listening in admiration, heedless of Charlotte’s warnings.

      After dinner, when the men joined them, Mrs. Croft proposed Speculation and, while they did not know the rules, Jane and Elizabeth agreed readily. Within two minutes, Elizabeth thought herself mistress of the game and by the end of five, Jane felt herself in the way of being able to play. Captain Wentworth, sitting to Elizabeth’s left, was to begin the game, but he turned up an ace and won the pot.

      “You do not give the guests any chance!” Mrs. Croft jested.

      Captain Wentworth smiled, “I have always been lucky.” He collected his winnings and then placed an extra token in the next pot, “But I will spend freely what has come to me.”

      Elizabeth was to deal next and turned a queen.

      “Miss Elizabeth?” Admiral Croft glanced at his wife for confirmation of her name, “I offer you seven for the queen.”

      “Do not sell,” Captain Wentworth whispered, “A lady that valuable is sure to win the game.”

      “I will keep her to myself,” Elizabeth declared.

      Benwick sat to her left and turned a knave and of the wrong suit besides.

      “Oh! that is disagreeable!” cried Jane in consolation, as he paid the penalty.

      “The game is young,” Captain Benwick said, “I will rally and recover.”

      “There is time enough for that,” Elizabeth agreed. She watched the next few cards turned with interest, but realizing quickly that in all likelihood, her lady would not be displaced she said to Captain Wentworth, “I have not seen your first ship, the Asp, in the navy list.”

      “No, you will not find her there. Quite worn out and broken up. I was the last man who commanded her. Hardly fit for service then!”

      “Am I now to learn of your manifold difficulties with rotting boards and leaning masts?”

      “You must have seen her!” Captain Wentworth cried, “The Admiralty entertain themselves now and then, by sending a few hundred men to sea in a ship not fit to be employed.”

      “Ha!” cried the Admiral, “There was never so good a sloop as the Asp, in her day. You were lucky to get her! He knows very well that twenty other men were wanting the Asp, old as she was.”

      “I felt my luck,” he agreed. The last card was turned and he said, “The lady takes the game.”

      “Now I may feel my good luck, inconsequential as it is,” Elizabeth smiled. Benwick dealt the next round.

      “The Laconia,” continued Wentworth, “those were pleasant days when I had her. How fast I made money, and with my friend Harville, he had more need of it. He has a wife.”

      Elizabeth was about to say something when she noticed an expression from Captain Benwick that caught her words, “Were you on the Laconia as well?” she asked instead.

      “I was the first lieutenant when Wentworth had it,” said he, “but that was some time ago. I had my own command, before the current peace.”

      “A ten!” exclaimed Jane, as the Admiral turned his card, “I shall offer you four, sir.”

      “I will take it for five,” Mrs. Croft said, Jane let is pass, and her husband surrendered the card. She took the game.

      “Sophy always knows better than me,” the Admiral laughed, “I must rely on her to share her winnings with me.”

      Mrs. Croft smiled at her husband, “If there is not another war, perhaps my prize money shall sustain us.”

      “Not another war?” the Admiral cried, “if we have any fortune, there will be another war, and these men will be all the better for it.”

      Jane was the next to deal and when she turned her own knave, Benwick was quick to offer her a trifle for it. She was about to take his tokens when Elizabeth protested.

      “No Jane, no, you cannot give him up for so little! You are quite determined to keep it,” Elizabeth cried.

      “Miss Bennet is far too nice,” Captain Wentworth observed, “you cannot play cards without some hardening of your heart. You underestimate Benwick, one does not rise in the navy by letting a prize slip away.” Wentworth then offered Jane a more reasonable amount and took the game. As two players were now without tokens, the game was over and soon afterwards the girls were obliged to go home.

Somersetshire

      Caroline took a walk around the shrubbery with her sister, “You offered to play last night?” she asked Louisa.

      “Darcy asked me if I would, I saw no harm in it.”

      “It was for Miss Elliot’s benefit, what do you think of her?”

      “She might have once been a pretty woman, but she has no brilliancy now. Nothing compared to her older sister. If she was at home, I might think Darcy was in some danger.”

      “It is strange that she acts the spinster but she does not wear the cap; do you think she means to deceive us?”

      “There is only one method for discovery, you ought to call on the cottage.”

      “Mrs. Mary Musgrove is hardly tolerable,” Caroline observed, “but it must be done.”

      “I cannot believe it; do you not delight in hearing of her troubles?”

      The two sisters laughed, but Caroline’s mind was still heavy, “I cannot think Anne has much in the way of fortune, nothing compared to myself, but she is the daughter of a baronet.”

      “A baronet that could not keep his own home,” Louisa said, “I think you know Darcy well enough to conjecture what he would think of Sir Walter’s profligacy. It is a poor recommendation for that family.”

      Caroline nodded, “You will come with me to the cottage? I cannot spend the entire time talking to Mary.”

      “For you, and your chances, I would do anything,” Louisa assured her, “as long as when you are married, I may spend every summer at Pemberley.”

      “It must be up to myself to create the alliance, Charles looks to be falling in love again.”

      “Nothing may come of it, though there is nothing objectionable about the Musgroves.”

      “Only their constant association with the Hayters and anyone else who crosses their way. They have no appreciation for the distinction of rank.”

      Louisa was quick to agree, “That is the only true complaint I will give Mary Musgrove credit for, I would not dine with nearly half the people they deem acceptable.”

      “If our brother does marry, we must convince him not to remain here, as lovely as the estate is. He must purchase.”

      “You know as well as I do that now that he has the liberty of an estate, he has no inclination to secure anything more permanent.”

      “One must live in hope,” Caroline said, as they walked back to the house.

      Darcy and Bingley had spent that morning hunting near Kellynch.

      “Do you not think the Miss Musgroves very pretty girls?” asked Bingley.

      “Not out of the common way,” Darcy replied.

      “They are the most beautiful creatures in the world!”

      “They are good, unaffected girls,” Darcy allowed, “but they smile too much.”

      “You will not permit anyone to be more than commonly pretty, I cannot account for it.”

      Darcy looked at his friend, “Enjoy their company, but it takes more than a lovely face and a sweet disposition to tempt me.”

      “Do you think Miss Musgrove or Miss Louisa is prettier?”

      “You may judge that for yourself.”

      “Miss Musgrove, I think, has higher merit in that regard, but Miss Louisa is more lively.” 

      Darcy saw that his friend was in no danger of fixing upon either and only replied, “I have no opinion.”

      What he did not say, or even want to admit, was that he did wish to know one of the women better: Miss Elliot. His conversations with her were the only sensible ones he had experienced since entering the county. The Musgroves he found barely worth talking to, the Hayters were worse, but she possessed a cultured mind that intrigued him. It was unfortunate that he had found so little opportunity to speak with her since. Thinking himself in no danger, he made plans to talk with her again.

      That evening being one of the few that Mr. Bingley did not have an engagement at Uppercross, Bingley, Darcy, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Caroline sat down for cards. It was not long, however, before those they were not with were thought and spoken of.

      “What is your opinion of the Musgroves?” Caroline asked Darcy, “You must find it quite unsupportable to spend so many evenings in such a manner.”

      “It would not be my preference,” Darcy said.

      “If you dislike it so much you can stay home,” Bingley said, “but I think the Musgroves are excellent people and their daughters are very sweet girls. I have made up my mind to give a ball here.”

      “Charles, you cannot be serious. There are some of us present for whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.”

      “And whom shall you invite?” added Mrs. Hurst, “Are there even enough couples to make a proper set?”

      “We never have had any difficulty at Uppercross.”

      “You cannot mean to invite the Hayters? The Musgroves see fit to do so, and they are relations, but you have no cause to give them consequence,” Caroline cried.

      “I see no reason against it, the Miss Hayters are good, unaffected girls, and their brother is quite the gentleman. Have you spoken to him?”

      Caroline sneered, “Not in my life!”

      “I shall invite them all, and with the Pooles and the Spicers we shall make up a fine party. When there is white soup enough, I shall send round my cards.”

      “I would not think that Mary Musgrove had married beneath her, but the family as a whole has no respect for her rank.”

      “In some aspects I would think Mrs. Musgrove gained more honour than she gave,” said Darcy.

      “You refer, no doubt, to the state of affairs in the Elliot family,” Caroline said, “I have an excessive regard for Miss Anne Elliot, but I fear that at her age and with such pecuniary concerns, she has a poor chance of marrying well.”

      “I do not think that is much of a concern for Miss Elliot,” said Darcy.

      Caroline was disconcerted by his response and did not feel bold enough to continue. After the game, she left the table quite as unsettled as before.

Chapter 6

Hertfordshire

      “I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”

      “You are well aware that the Captains were to come for dinner, is there someone else?”

      “Yes, a gentleman and a stranger?”

      Mrs. Bennet brightened, “Has Admiral Croft invited more young men from the navy? What a useful neighbour he has made himself!”

      “No dear, I have received word from my cousin, Mr. Collins, the man who may, upon my demise, turn you all out of the house as soon as he chooses.”

      Mrs. Bennet exclaimed and the letter was shared. Mr. Collins was punctual, but surprised when he arrived to find not only the Bennets but Captains Wentworth and Benwick, who after proper introductions were made, wholly absorbed the attention of nearly every sister. It was not what Mr. Collins had expected to find and he was quite disconcerted.

      Mr. Collins had come to Longbourn with the full expectation that he would be at his leisure to select a suitable partner for his future life from any of the daughters. As the dinner progressed, he found only in Mrs. Bennet, whom he was seated next to, a patient listener to all he could tell about Lady Catherine de Bourgh and his admiration of his fair cousins.

      By the time the servants were withdrawn, Mr. Collins was beginning to feel rather hopeless. The most lovely Miss Bennet was entirely consumed in speaking with a handsome young Captain, he was sure she must soon be engaged. Miss Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lydia were likewise engrossed by Captain Wentworth. Mr. Collins thought fairly highly of his merits, such as they were, but he did not have the courage to oppose two such men as he found before him. Seeing that Miss Mary had chosen to read a book, he moved to take a place beside her.

      “Miss Mary, please allow me to observe that you have chosen a very worthy pursuit this evening,” said he.

      “It is only Moral Essays by Alexander Pope,” she replied. Mary had understood after a few days that she could not compete with either Elizabeth or Lydia for Captain Wentworth. Feeling somewhat neglected, she was in the most proper of moods for some flattery.

      “I had always thought young ladies not interested by books of a serious stamp; I must have been mistaken. This is the most advantageous way to spend an evening, I am sure.”

      Mary smiled, “Have you read it? I have been taking down extracts in my book.”

      “Read it, how could I not have taken the time? it is most beneficial instruction. My patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is a great collector of books and she owns first editions of all of Mr. Pope’s noted works.”

      “How very fortunate for her, my father owns but three. I have tried to borrow them from the circulating library, but you know that books of a moral nature are not commonly desired by the other lenders.”

      “I would think it to be so, very few put in the effort to improve themselves by reading such serious works. Lady Catherine is a great advocate of the education of women. Her own daughter would have been a great reader, had her healthy allowed her to apply.”

      “What misfortune to befall a young woman,” Mary said in commiseration.

      “I have often told Lady Catherine that her daughter’s inability to be presented at court has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament.”

      “Does that bit of flattery encourage pride or vanity? I believe them to be very common failings indeed. As a member of the clergy, do you think you ought to encourage Lady Catherine’s vanity or that of her daughter?”

      Mr. Collins felt himself in a bit of a puzzle and he only replied, “How astute an observation.”

      Mary was well pleased in this praise, and having fallen into that same trap of vanity that she sought to save the great Lady from, she allowed her cousin to remain beside her to delicately compliment her intelligence and discretion as much as he chose.

Somersetshire

      The women from Kellynch called on Uppercross cottage and while Anne found them diverting, their powers of conversation were considerable, she was left without any inclination to know them better. She could tell that Miss Bingley was intelligent, but all her powers of mind were bent towards people and connections. Anne felt certain that Miss Bingley was the sort of woman who only picked up a book if someone she admired was reading the next volume. Mary had no such suspicions and being distinguished by the sisters, since they did not mean to call on the great house, was enough to make her cheerful for the rest of the day.

      Mary’s feelings of self-importance would only increase when the men returned early from hunting on account of a young dog ruining their sport. Charles had invited both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy back to the cottage. Anne and Mary were sitting together at work, and Anne might have felt that their presence was unwelcome if Charles had not immediately proposed they play cards. Mary was happy to join but Anne held back. The gentlemen pressed her to join them.

      “I am no card-player,” said she, but she joined the table, little as she wished to.

      “With five, shall we play loo?” Charles suggested.

      “I prefer whilst,” Mr. Darcy said quickly.

      Anne glanced at him; he was looking back at her. She was no longer required. Anne picked up her neglected book, feeling that once or twice, he fixed his gaze upon her. She could not imagine what attracted the attention of such a man, but she found herself more than once blushing.

      When the rubber was over, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy expressed an inclination to call on the great house. Anne found herself being applied to and walking with Mr. Darcy again, as Mary and Charles walked with Mr. Bingley.

      “You do not play cards?” he asked.

      “It has never been my preference.”

      “You have not danced either, what is your idea of a good evening?”

      “A group of clever, well-informed people having a great deal of conversation without being distracted by their lost half-crowns; that is what I call a good evening.”

      “That seems a high aspiration. Something very difficult to attain; especially since you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”

      Anne felt some offense on behalf of her friends and replied, “There are people of merit to be found in the country and there is value in persons of different ability. We cannot all be clever.”

      Anne did not have time to judge if her words were unduly harsh, before he said, “Variety’s the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavour.”

      “There is variety here, I cannot come to Uppercross without finding the cares and concerns so very distinct from Kellynch, though it is only a distance of three miles.

      “They do not seem to share your enjoyments.”

      “No, but then it is not that I object to dancing in general; I choose to play. I can be of use,” Anne said. She did remember a time, long ago, when she had been happy to dance. It seemed like another person entirely who had enjoyed a more active role.

      “You seem to take pleasure in being of use, without regard to your own preferences,” he observed.

      Anne blushed and thanked him. She was flattered to be noticed in such a manner and to have it spoken of. And from such a man as him! Liberal as she was in her notice of everyone, even she could not be insensible to his merits. She doubted herself; he must only be in want of rational conversation. A reprieve from the idle talk and open manners of Uppercross. Yet, there was a small spark of hope which she could not snuff out, no matter how little she thought it prudent to fuel its fire.

Chapter 7

Hertfordshire

      Captain Wentworth headed into town that morning on purpose to see the Bennet sisters. He knew their plans to visit their aunt and meant to encounter them, by accident, on the road. As laid-out as his actions were, he had no motives beyond being in their presence. His sister had scolded him, thought him very strange, for all his claims towards matrimony as he seemed no closer than when he had begun. Even the Admiral thought him odd, for visiting the Bennets week on week but being no nearer to a choice. It did him no justice that the comparative merits of the sisters made the decision plain.

      He had known by the second week of coming to the neighbourhood that Miss Elizabeth Bennet ought to be his choice. Lydia and Kitty were lively, but he knew that Elizabeth was clever. If he was to settle, he could do no better. How was it that his heart was still the unjust property of a woman he had not seen in eight years? A woman who had been persuaded to turn him down.

      When he arrived in Meryton, he saw them all at a distance, the five girls with their strange cousin. They were speaking to two men, Captain Wentworth recognized Denny, but the man beside him was wholly unknown. He could not help but notice that this man was looking at Miss Elizabeth with a degree of earnest admiration. It was evident that the gentleman admired her exceedingly. Captain Wentworth was now beside them and glancing at her, recognized a sparkle in her dark eyes that he alone had once been in command of.

      He did not spare a glance for the other sisters; his attention was fixed. He was ashamed of his weeks of idle enjoyment, of accepting the attentions of the younger girls, for accepting must be the word, without any intention of acting on them. For the first time, he accepted that he might have met Anne’s equal, though she was so entirely different.

      He was noticed and introductions were made. While Wentworth was outwardly civil, he felt an immediate dislike for Mr. Wickham. He knew it must be unjustified, there could be no cause for it beyond Elizabeth’s smiles, but if it was only born in jealousy, he blamed himself. If he had acted as he ought, there would have been no cause for her to be animated by the attentions of another.

      Wentworth joined them, though he found himself following behind as they walked to Mrs. Phillips home and he was left with only an invitation that night to join them for cards. Back at Netherfield, he met Benwick, who seemed to be leaving the house on purpose to find him.

      “Have you seen Miss Bennet?” he asked with feeling, Wentworth made him acquainted with her movements as he had observed them. “You must know my purpose, you cannot doubt it,” Benwick continued, “I am going to ask her to marry me.”

      Wentworth could not have been more surprised and he exclaimed, “Marry you? It is only November!” It was now that he discerned Benwick’s green jacket and lack of crepe. His mind flew back to August, when he had brought the news of Fanny Harville’s death, only that June. How could this be the same man, so ready now to marry another?

      “It is six months, as you say, do you expect me to mourn her forever?” said he.

      “She would not have forgotten you so soon.”

      “Forgotten?” Benwick cried, “I shall never forget her, I shall bear my love for her within my breast for all the days of my life. Yet, I will not go on forever in hopeless despair. She is gone and I am left behind. I have lived to love again.”

      “Then I wish you success and joy,” Wentworth said, against his inclination and perceiving that it would be impossible to argue with such warmth of feeling.

      “How could I do anything else but ask for her hand? She is the most beautiful, gentle creature I have ever beheld. A paragon of kindness and goodness. I do not think I will ever meet anyone like her again if I am to live a hundred years in the world. I must do everything in my power to secure her.” With that he made towards Meryton with a quick, lively step.

      “He should not, he ought not forget her,” Wentworth thought to himself, “if he had truly loved.” Yet he could not but think himself foolish, in one respect Benwick had been right. He must be thoughtless not to secure a woman with as much value as Elizabeth Bennet.

Somersetshire

      “I believe that Henrietta has finally put off Charles Hayter,” Mary declared one morning to her sister, “He refused even to come to dinner yesterday.”

      Anne did not reply, she thought Charles nothing but wise to quit the field. If Henrietta did not remember him soon, then he must give her up. He had not come to Uppercross for the last three days and even put off his regular invitation to dinner.

      Charles, waiting for the other men to arrive for shooting, interjected, “He shall come tomorrow I am certain.”

      “I hope he does not, you know how disagreeable it is to me that he comes by so often. I do not wish to be connected with someone so decidedly below me.”

      This was a well-worn argument, but without much else to do, it was revived again, “You talk nonsense Mary, it is not a great match for Henrietta, but you know he is the eldest son and they have good, freehold property. He is a good-natured fellow and I have every confidence that when Winthrop comes into his hands, he will make a good sort of place out of it.”

      “I would rather have her with Mr. Bingley. There is a match worthy of one of my sisters. I hope that Mr. Bingley will put Charles Hayter right out of Henrietta’s head.”

      The Miss Musgroves at this time happened to come by and stopped for no other purpose then to say that they were going on a long walk. Mr. Bingley and Darcy arrived as Mary declared that she should come on the walk, despite Anne’s efforts to dissuade her. The three men quickly agreeing that they could put off their sport for a later time that fine day, it was soon a party of seven.

      The two Miss Musgroves, much to Anne’s surprise, separated and only Louisa walked with Mr. Bingley. Henrietta took a place beside her brother and Mary. Anne was unsurprised this time when Mr. Darcy took his place beside her and offered his arm. They walked behind Louisa and Charles in relative silence, for Mr. Darcy seemed to be watching his friend and Anne did not require conversation to be comfortable.

      “My sister and her husband have staid home,” Mr. Bingley was saying, “He would rather play cards with her than be at sport. A strange fellow.”

      Louisa, with real feeling, replied, “I would do just the same in her place, if I loved a man, I would always be with him. Nothing should ever separate us. I would rather have a dull day with him then a lively one apart.”

      “I am of exactly the same mind,” Mr. Bingley replied with enthusiasm, “and how much more the better if your interests are aligned.” He paused for a moment, and then said, “I have been thinking, Miss Louisa, of holding a ball at Kellynch in the next few weeks.”

      “Oh, I would like that above all things! I am so fond of dancing. Shall you invite the Hayters?”

      “I cannot see a reason not to, very agreeable young women and their eldest brother is quite the gentleman.”

      Anne stole a glance at Mr. Darcy but could not read in his face what he thought of the matter. As they turned on the trail, she began to suspect that Winthrop was their destination. It was no longer a wonder that Louisa had not wished for Mary to accompany them.

      Soon they were upon the grounds and at a hill overlooking the house. Mary exclaimed, “Bless me! Here is Winthrop, I had no idea. Well, we had better turn back.”

      Henrietta, seeing no cousin Charles outdoors, was nearly ready to do as Mary asked, when Louisa took her aside and began to talk in hushed tones. Charles Musgrove, in disregard of his wife’s wishes, resolved to go down and call on his aunt. Henrietta joined him and Louisa found her place again beside Mr. Bingley.

      “It is very unpleasant, having such connections! But I assure you, I have never been in the house above twice in my life,” said Mary to Mr. Darcy. He bowed gravely and she continued, “Henrietta does very wrong by me if she does strengthen the connection through another alliance.”

      “They are a family of little consequence in the world,” he replied.

      Anne was incensed to such a degree that though she was tired, she declared, “I shall go too.” And with a pointed look to Mr. Darcy, joined her brother on the walk down the hill. For only a moment she perceived his surprise and heard Mary’s protestations. She went in and found a seat for the quarter of an hour that it took to complete the visit. Charles Hayter was with Henrietta as they left the house, looking very well pleased, and Anne took her brother’s arm for the long walk back.

      Charles, however, was out of humour with his wife and eventually left both of them behind. Anne was very tired but she carried on until she nearly lost sight of the walkers. Suddenly Mr. Darcy was beside her and offering her his arm. She could not have refused and she had trouble in her fatigue feeling any lasting anger towards him. Anne could not deny that his opinion of the Hayters was one shared by every other member of her family, save for Charles.

      Yet, she could not help herself from saying, “Mr. Charles Hayter is a good-natured man and a scholar.”

      “You sister, I believe, has a strong sense of familial pride,” he said.

      “I would say I have more pride then her, by showing a rational appreciation for the merits of those who have made something of themselves. Why must he be judged as below those, who born to prestige and fortune, have not the sense or principles to maintain themselves in the situation where Providence has placed them? Is it not the duty of those with means to raise up those who might bring more honour to their station?”

      “Your conjecture is a sanguine view of the world, such as it is.”

      “I may only judge from my experience, which I will own to be nothing compared to what I imagine yours to be. Even with what little I have seen of the world; I have not come to expect any coming together of merit and rank. From what I have seen, intelligent, charitable minds have not been granted alongside grand estates with any regularity,” said she.

      “A proper estimation of those qualities together would require an examination of history.”

      “I ask not to judge by history, for whom has commissioned its writing but those who wish to justify their prominence by expounding on their merit. Let us instead consider those known to ourselves, inadequate as those examples might be.”

      “If I must draw entirely from my own experience, there have been persons of worth, as you define it, from all stations of life. However, unlike yourself, I have reason to doubt that men are always capable of proving themselves worthy of elevation.”

      “Has your doubt been drawn from a general experience or a single case?”

      He was silent for a moment, “It may be a single occurrence, but that did not lessen its effect on my mind. The results were nearly catastrophic.”

      Anne dared not approach the subject further. After walking for a few moments together without speaking, he asked her, “You have not yet been to Kellynch since we came here. I know how you must feel. However, Charles is resolved to host a ball in a few weeks; will you wish to attend?”

      Anne thought to herself that she must go soon, for when she stayed with Lady Russell it would be unavoidable, “Yes, I will go with my sister.”

      “There can be no call for you to play, will you dance?”

      Anne considered for only a moment before saying, “I think I shall.”

      “I would be honoured if you would reserve two dances, for myself, sometime in the evening.”

      She accepted, without knowing much what to think of him, or why he continued to seek her out. She could not scorn his kindness or attention. By the next day, she was anticipating the ball nearly as much as Louisa.

Chapter 8

Hertfordshire

      The pleasure of the Bennet family, who were not entirely surprised by the proposal, can be imagined. Jane returned from Meryton on the arm of Captain James Benwick and with a flow of sweet animation on her face that made her more handsome than ever. Kitty and Lydia smiled and hoped their turn would come soon. Lydia only once or twice implied that Jane was on the verge of becoming an old maid. Elizabeth was all pleasure for Jane and Mrs. Bennet could not satisfy her feelings on the matter until she had talked of nothing but Benwick for a half hour.

      The engagement that night with the Phillips was nearly called off, but in the end, it was determined that their present joy could only increase by its telling. Mrs. Bennet was obliged to accompany them to Meryton that she might be the first to tell her sister the news. Captain Benwick was asked for dinner remained with them until it was time to depart.

      Mr. Bennet, in a moment alone with Jane, said to her, “I congratulate you Jane. I think you will be a very happy woman.”

      It was still to be decided where and how they would live, but Benwick had fortune and rank enough that it was in no way a contemptable match and there was every expectation on the Captain’s side that he would soon enough be given orders and continue to rise in his career.

      The Bennet women were in high spirits when they arrive at the Phillips’ house. Mr. Collins was accompanying them; no one but Mary had patience for his long speeches and delicate compliments. Everything was Jane and no one felt that any other topic was even half as interesting. Only the arrival of the officers could sufficiently distract Lydia and Kitty, who sat on either side of Wickham to play lottery tickets. Elizabeth stayed by Jane to feel her happiness. Jane had no heart for games that night and only attention for Benwick.

      Captain Wentworth joined them and Elizabeth felt that the evening was completely without drawback. After paying the proper addresses to Jane, he said to Elizabeth, “My sister and the Admiral have lately added a gig to their establishment, they mean to ride to Oakham Mount tomorrow. Do you know of it?”

      “It is a very nice bit of country, though the roads are poor.”

      “Perhaps I should warn them against it; they are often tossed out. My sister makes nothing of it but it happens even on the good roads around Netherfield.”

      Elizabeth laughed, “What a man the Admiral must be; if his wife can abide being tumbled in the dirt with him!”

      “The weather has been glorious, for the time of year, it has not yet been a great imposition.”

      “Dirt or not, it is a rare example of marital felicity, from what I have known.”

      “They are almost always together, and I, a poor third must shift for myself.”

      “What a great imposition for you! All the luxury and privilege of a manor and no obligation towards the comfort of your host. I see you are quite put upon.”

      “I bear it with brave fortitude,” said he.

      Elizabeth smiled, “Oakham Mount is not far from Longbourn, perhaps I will see them pass by.”

      “I know Benwick means to call on your house tomorrow, we may all walk out together.”

      Elizabeth, knowing not what was meant, could not yet feel the honour that Wentworth had meant to bestow. She could not help but say, “My younger sisters are not great walkers.”

      “Then they need not accompany us. Their presence is of no consequence to me.”

      Now Elizabeth could smile with the same glow of pleasure as Jane. Wickham, who had been much in her thoughts before Jane’s engagement had taken over all consciousness, was entirely forgotten. She began to think again, for she had begun to doubt his having any serious intentions, of how he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would best suit her. He was a man with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy and for some time had been Elizabeth’s model of all that was amiable and pleasing.

      “What do you think, Miss Elizabeth, of second attachments?” Wentworth said, as Jane and Captain Benwick were engaged in quiet conversation together.

      Elizabeth, sure that he was speaking about the recently engaged couple, replied, “I have never been quite that sort of romantic, one that might dismiss the idea entirely. If it were the case that every person was only meant to fall in love once, then would it not follow that the utmost caution would be required in forming attachments, lest one fall in love injudiciously and be doomed forever? Or in a more unhappy case, by chance and circumstance, miss the opportunity of fixing their proper partner and never find love at all?”

      “I would not speak of something so capricious, for what mortal could stand against such winds of fate? One cannot waste time worrying that by a week’s delay they have missed their only chance at happiness. No, I think more of a formed, earnest attachment, that by perverseness of circumstance or inconstancy of its object, has been ruined.”

      “Would it not be advisable, before we proceed on the subject, to determine with exactness the length and commitment involved? You speak of fidelity; shall we consider vows broken or only inclinations changed? If a widow of a marriage of affection lasting ten years was to attach herself again, without apparent thought to her loss, I would think it very strange. Yet, for a young man or woman, never married, one would find the recover far less wonderful.”

      Wentworth shook his head, “Is it time alone that you think makes affection stronger?”

      “No, certainly not, a pair unsuited may go on forever in indifference. One must begin on a strong foundation. I must confess that I am in favour of caution when it comes to forming any attachment, one must have a good idea of the character of the other person.”

      “Is it not probable that the truth of a person’s nature may not be revealed until too late? How long do you allow for observance?”

      Elizabeth smiled, “One must hope that the acquaintance is long enough to discover any glaring flaws of temper. Yet, there are some characters that are easy to sketch and others more intricate, time alone cannot be the measure. From my own experience, I have seen foolish matches that were formed very quickly and a great deal of blindness to faults.”

       “You would be persuaded that my brother and sister could never be happy together if you knew with what brevity they came to an understanding. And yet, she knew him by character and they have both of them firm and decided minds.”

      “Then we should hope that the question of a second attachment will never be their fate. In general terms, however, it has always seemed perfectly natural to me. There are those of a disposition to love and be loved. As ardently as the first attachment was, when all hope is lost, they must fix again.”

      As he could perceive where her eyes rested, he quickly said, “Do not think I mean to disparage any of the present company, as you have said, I speak of generalities.”

      She assured him that no offense was taken and they spoke of less home subjects. Elizabeth felt that under his treatment, the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic was rendered interesting. But when a fascinating career in the navy and a well-informed mind was added to this, she could not blame herself for already being half in love.

Somersetshire

      It rained for the week before the ball, spoiling the sport of the men and resulting in much less intercourse between Uppercross and Kellynch. Bingley and his sisters were seen only once for dinner, but Mr. Darcy was absent on business. Nothing could prevent the great house and cottage from communication and Anne learned the day prior to the ball that Charles Hayter had been granted a fine living. On that strength, he and Henrietta were engaged. This good news was related by proxy, for the houses dined apart that evening and only by walking to the house himself with an umbrella had Charles learned of it all.

      The evening of the ball arrived and Anne was reflecting on how strange it was to be entering her father’s house as a guest on such an occasion. It was difficult to approach Kellynch Hall but upon entering, she thought how very apt it was to come for the first time during a ball. The decoration and swell of people made her feel that she was somewhere else altogether. She was greeted very cordially by Mr. Bingley, who wanted to hear her appraisal of what they had done with the ballroom.

      “I hardly recognize it,” said she, but thinking this might be interpreted as an affront she added, “It has been too long since the room was properly fitted up for a ball.”

      “We have changed almost nothing in the house,” Bingley assured her, “except what was needed for tonight, but that will be all set to right tomorrow. I did have some of the mirrors removed from the dressing room and placed in storage.”

      Anne was amused in spite of herself and could not think of a proper answer. Bingley, wondering if he had offended, quickly added,

      “When you write next to your father, please assure him that we have found everything to our liking. We have no fault to find with the place. It is far superior to anything else in the neighbourhood. And when you are settled in the lodge with your friend, please feel at liberty to walk in the park whenever you wish to.”

      Anne thanked him from her heart and assured him that she would tell her father, though it would be through Elizabeth as he did not write. This was not the extent however, of Mr. Bingley’s civility, as in deference to her claims, he requested her hand for the two first dances. Anne, who had never had the pleasure, often sought after by other women, of opening a ball within her own house was gratified by the distinction. She felt that her homecoming, such as it was, could not have come with better feelings and less embarrassment. As Anne saw the other members of the neighbourhood who would have never been permitted past the threshold of Kellynch Hall’s door under Elizabeth’s management, her pleasure in the evening only increased.

      The Hayters had already arrived and Charles joined Henrietta as soon as he could find her. Soon Anne was being called to share in their happiness.

      “Anne, it is the most wonderful thing that has happened!” Henrietta said, “Charles has been granted a living, only thirty miles from Uppercross. The family is entirely unknown to us, I must imagine that they heard of him through Dr. Shirley.”

      Anne gave them her warm congratulations.

      “It is sooner than we had thought to hope, for we could not marry on the income of his curacy. Charles is to leave early next week to determine if the house is fit to receive us.”

      “I cannot think that it could have fallen into worthier hands,” Anne said. She left the happy couple to themselves. Anne observed Louisa in earnest conversation with Mr. Bingley, such that he was neglecting his forthcoming guests, and thought there was reason to think that the Musgroves might be losing two of their daughters at once.

      Charles Musgrove approached Anne next and said, “A very good living, near four hundred a year but you know these things may always be improved. The best I have heard of it is that the owner, Sir John de Bourgh, is a liberal man and may give him rights for hunting. I would visit myself; but Charles is too cool on shooting and may not ask for the privilege.”

      “I am extremely glad, indeed!” cried Anne, “I hope your father and mother are quite happy?”

      “Oh yes, my father would be well pleased if the gentleman were richer, but he has no other fault to find. Mary does not like the match, but she does not do him justice.”

      The general happiness on the part of family and friends for the two young people must be felt and it was with increased delight that the dancing began. Anne found herself with a very agreeable partner in Mr. Bingley, full of conversation and liveliness, and she did not disdain that he was often distracted by watching Louisa Musgrove.

      She danced with Mr. Darcy at the end of the set and tired as she was of civility, she did not disdain his general silence. As they waited at the end of the line however, he said, “I have heard that Mr. Hayter and Miss Musgrove are to be married.”

      “Yes, it might have happened years prior, had there been money enough.”

      “The living could not have fallen into better hands.”

      Anne started, “Could it not?” she said.

      “I had the opportunity to spend time with Mr. Hayter, he is a man of superior manner and mind.”

      Anne could not help but to smile and feel gratified by his acknowledgement of the young man’s merits. Having never been listened to by her father or sisters on similar subjects, there was a distinct pleasure in being attended to and believed, even if Mr. Darcy had found it necessary to investigate himself. She said, “Should I take it as a compliment to myself that you have gone to the trouble of knowing him?”

      “I would not correct you if you were to do so. I do not think I could do wrong to put more trust in your judgement.”
      Anne’s cheeks were spread with a becoming blush, “Do not think me always correct, that is too high a burden, ‘Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much. Wisdom is humble that he knows not more.’*”

      “Give me leave, if I am not permitted to think you always right, to at least find you worth heeding,” said he. Before they parted, he requested that she might be his partner again after supper.

      Anne made her way towards the table in high spirits. She was accosted on her way by Mary, who inquired into her engagements after the meal. Upon finding that Anne was again to dance with Mr. Darcy, Mary, perhaps not wanting to imagine that Anne might attract a man of more consequence than Charles Musgrove, said dismissively, “He must find no one else acceptable, I have never seen any symptom of special attention in him towards yourself.”

      Anne’s good-will however, could not be touched by this meagre attack, and she boldly acknowledged herself flattered. Mary was left to console herself by hoping that wealthy and well-connected as he must be, Mr. Darcy was unlikely to be made a baronet. Therefore, she need not think that Anne, if she should marry him, would ascend any higher than herself.

      Anne found herself seated beside Miss Bingley, who had been watching Anne with jealous resentment, “Miss Elliot, it is unfortunate that you are not the hostess yourself tonight. I cannot imagine entering my own home under such circumstances as this.”

      This was a well-aimed attack and Anne blushed, but in controlled calmness she replied, “My compliments to your efforts. The ballroom has never looked so handsome.”

      “When one has the proper means, anything might be done.”

      “How happy for you to possess fortune enough for decoration. Yet, is it not unlucky that this will pass away so soon, a ball is as ephemeral as the frost.”

      “How like a woman’s beauty! Which may last only for the spring of her life before fading away.”

      “It sometimes happens that a woman is as handsome at thirty as she was at sixteen. Yet I may conjecture that beauty is not the only attraction that a woman may possess. Is there not allurement in a cultivated mind, extensive reading, and accomplishment? I will accept that it is a common failing among the male sex to value beauty above intelligence, but those pitiful fellows are not much worth considering.”

      “You did not mention fortune in your list of attractions, perhaps because you would not wish to dwell on its material importance.”

      “I am not one to forget, but fortune has never been of much consequence to myself.”

      “Those who do not possess something are apt to dismiss its value.”

      Anne, who thought too meanly of Miss Bingley’s opinion to be harmed by her insults, said, “I may then acknowledge that you have forgotten the attraction of rank, an error that would speak as much to your position in life as mine.”

      To this Miss Bingley had no reply and Anne was allowed to drink her tea in relative tranquillity. Mr. Darcy came to claim Anne for the next dance, insensible to Miss Bingley’s sour looks, and Anne felt all the honour that she was sure he meant to bestow.

      Before they parted at the end of the dance, Mr. Darcy said to her, “My sister has expressed a wish to visit Kellynch. I thought to collect her for Christmas. Will you allow me to introduce my sister to your acquaintance when she comes?”

      Anne gave a decidedly positive response and glowed with happiness. This, however, could not prevent her from feeling quite tired. She sat down until Mary and Charles were ready to convey her back to the cottage. She thought fondly that Lady Russell would be coming back to Kellynch lodge soon to collect her and mused for some time on how much she would appreciate Mr. Darcy.

*The Winter Walk at Noon, William Cowper

Chapter 9

Hertfordshire

      The naval officers were punctual the next day and since the weather was fair for that time of year, the two pairs set out for Oakham Mount. There was no difficulty in persuading the other girls not to accompany them, Mary was playing pianoforte for Mr. Collins and Lydia and Kitty were determined to go to Meryton and seek out Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Bennet approved of everything and gave a great many hints for Elizabeth to blush at and Wentworth to receive with good-natured deflection.

       Once they were out of the environs of Longbourn, Benwick and Jane began to fall behind and Elizabeth said in embarrassment, “Please do not think anything has been said to raise the expectations of my family, at least from my quarter.”

      “I would never have suspected anything of the sort from you; your mother’s mind moves very rapidly, but that is not so uncommon for a person of woman of her situation.”

      Relieved, Elizabeth was able to listen in calm admiration as Wentworth told her of distant shores and naval battles. Every detail was made more interesting in his telling and she was for some time largely unaware of the environs about her.

      “How fanciful it all sounds in recounting,” she observed, “but I cannot fully imagine it myself. The danger of it all seems so much like a novel! And the very nature of the sea, I have never seen it, I have only heard it described.”

      “Have not you?”

      “No, indeed. The largest body of water I have looked upon is the Thames, but I cannot imagine that to be anything like.”

      “You must see it someday,” said he, and Elizabeth might have thought more of it, had he not turned to look for her sister and his friend behind them. They were so far behind as to be entirely obscured from view.

      As Elizabeth and Wentworth were about to turn onto the smaller path that would bring them to the mount, they both caught sight of the Admiral and his wife, coming towards them unsteadily. Wentworth called to warn them of the danger ahead but he was too late by half a second. One wheel caught on a large rock and the carriage turned over violently. For a moment, Elizabeth and Wentworth were too surprised to speak; then they rushed towards the gig.

      Admiral Croft was already on his feet but Mrs. Croft with pallid face, was sitting in bewilderment on the ground. Wentworth reached her first, knelt beside her, and saw at once that her arm was badly broken, “Is there no one to help me?” were his first words.

      Elizabeth was beside him at once, “We are not so far from Longbourn, we must secure the arm and bring her, can the gig be righted?” catching Wentworth’s eye, she added, “You must know what is to be done; are you not an officer?”

      He looked at her blankly.

      “The arm must be protected if we are to move her,” Elizabeth said.

      “Yes,” Wentworth agreed, and recollecting himself, he began to search for the proper materials. Elizabeth stayed with Mrs. Croft and helped her into a more comfortable position. Admiral Croft reported that the wheel was unusable, they could not bring his wife by that means.

      “What must be done next?” the Admiral cried.

      “One of you must ride to my father’s house, who best knows the way? I am no horse-woman. And we must have blankets. She will catch a chill!”

      Now there was difficulty, for neither the Admiral nor Captain Wentworth wished to leave while she was in Mrs. Croft such a state. However, they all knew the impossibility of carrying her so far and there was nothing else to be done. Admiral Croft therefore, with a better knowledge of the roads, set out for Longbourn. Wentworth remained and instructed Elizabeth in tending to his sister. The arm was wrapped and they could only watch anxiously for the return of Admiral Croft or the Bennet’s couch.

      Jane and Benwick joined them in some minutes and the men, greatly wanting to be doing something, righted the carriage. Elizabeth and Jane attended to Mrs. Croft. It was half an hour before relief arrived and everyone by then was rather cold and worried. Admiral Croft was accompanied by the experienced driver from Longbourn. The women helped Mrs. Croft into the carriage and sat at each side to steady her.

      Mrs. Bennet ran out to greet them when the party arrived and there was a general bustle as Mrs. Croft was brought into the house and settled most comfortably in the parlour where the surgeon would be able to attend her. “He had already been sent for- he was sure to arrive any moment- he was the best surgeon they could hope for- London could not supply better” Arrangements were to be made for the retrieval of the gig and all of them were pressed to stay for dinner.

      The surgeon did come soon afterwards and Mrs. Croft had her arm properly set. Further trips about the country were expressly forbidden for at least two months. Elizabeth was coming back downstairs, after taking a moment to change her soiled dress, when she heard Wentworth talking with his sister.

      “I would rather go home, there is nothing more to be done for me here,” said she.

      “I am sure Mr. Bennet will allow you the carriage, there shall be no difficulty. Only assure me that you are well enough to move.”

      “Quite well, I assure you, and if one of the girls will agree to accompany me for the journey, I shall be perfectly comfortable.”

      “You must ask Elizabeth, there is no one so proper, so capable as Elizabeth.”

      Elizabeth paused for a moment to smile at such high praise, and heard Mrs. Croft agree before she walked into the room.

      “Miss Elizabeth, if you would be so good as to help me home, I am sure the Admiral and my maid will be sufficient once I am there. Would you be so kind?”

      Elizabeth heartily agreed, and knowing from where the recommendation came, she could not help but be pleased. Wentworth looked towards her and there was such a look of gratitude and admiration that she could not help but to lower her eyes and blush.

      When it was all done and Elizabeth was returned home, Admiral Croft turned to his brother-in-law and said, “Have you not yet made up your mind? I wish you would come to the point and bring us home that girl to Netherfield. Sophie could do with the company.”

      Wentworth could not reply and could not understand completely himself why he had not done so already.

Somersetshire

      Lady Russell arrived only two days after the ball and Anne was ushered from the cottage to Kellynch Lodge, where she had expected Mr. Darcy to call on them. She had been waiting for him to come before appraising Lady Russell of all that had occurred, but the first caller was Mr. Bingley and he informed both of them that Mr. Darcy had been called away suddenly on business and had not seemed certain of the date of his return.

      He added, “He left particular compliments for you, Miss Elliot, as I am sure he meant to come and visit with Lady Russell.”

      This was the only comfort Anne could feel and as the days continued and Mr. Darcy did not return, she began to feel that perhaps she had been greatly mistaken in his intentions. Anne made a conscious effort to keep herself from imaging the worst, she told herself a man of Darcy’s stature could easily be called away on pressing business. She rationally reflected that his home in Derbyshire was a great distance from Kellynch and that if some distressing report had taken him there, it might be several weeks before it would be within in his power to return.

      After nine days, Anne went for a walk in the shrubbery around Kellynch, as she had been often doing on a fair day. Feeling tired, she took a moment to rest on one of the benches, obscured completely from view by overhanging hazel nut trees. Suddenly, Anne overheard Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley as they went by, catching some of their conversation unseen.

      “-in my life! I am disgusted most for her, what can her prospects be now?” said Mr. Darcy.

      “But you think it may be improved? Her financial state, I mean,” replied Bingley.

      “With his profligacy, I am not sanguine. If a man was ever less responsible, less prudent- but I should not speak so. It is not a singular evil.”

      “It is not uncommon, but for it to be in such an excess of his income. And with such an income!”

      “When I discovered the whole of it, I will confess I was too angry to speak. The Elliot debt is the most distasteful-”

      The voices were retreating and Anne distinguished no more. She might have fled but her emotions still kept her fixed. He must be speaking of her father and herself! She had not thought him ignorant of her family’s troubles, given that he was staying at their own encumbered estate. She conjectured that he must have gone to discover more before continuing in any attachment. He must have realized just how obligated the Elliot family had become.

      Anne supposed that Miss Bingley must have been right when she had hinted that Darcy would hold her indebted family in contempt. Anne had been happy enough to dismiss everything at the ball; now she thought back over what Miss Bingley had said to her. Anne knew her own meagre fortune could only be paid in part, if at all. Her father had placed all his trust in his daughters’ rank and beauty to secure them matches and lacked the prudence to secure anything besides what was demanded in the wedding articles. A third of ten thousand pounds was all she could ever expect and even that was impossible now.

      She found herself back at Lady Russell’s home without knowing how she had come there. Leaving word with a servant that she had a headache, she went to her room and sat in quiet contemplation. Anne felt foolish but she also reflected that she had yet to outlive the age of emotion. Her hopes had been raised, she had been learning to think again of a life beyond what she had resigned herself to the day that Captain Wentworth had left, in anger, eight years before. It must be over now; she must learn to carry on for a second time.

      All of Anne’s disappointed hopes were confirmed by Mr. Darcy’s visit the next day. He scarcely spoke after his introduction to Lady Russell, said very little of his business and nothing of his sister’s coming. This must be the end of everything. Anne was only glad that she had not spread her hopes beyond her own mind. Her friend was totally ignorant of all that had passed, for even in correspondence Anne had been careful not to speak of him until she was certain of an attachment. While she was forced to suffer alone, she thought it better without any hints. To be away from Mary was another blessing.

      Henrietta and Louisa called not long after to invite Anne to come with them to Lyme. Mr. Bingley had proposed to visit the sea, since the weather had remained so fair and Louisa had suggested they see the Cobb. Such a perfect scheme among happy young people was sure to go forward and Anne was pressed to accompany them. They were to leave early in the morning and, to spare the horses, return the next day. Anne could not but agree, for she had no reason but despair to refuse and she could not speak of it. She did not dare ask if Mr. Darcy was to attend, she could only hope he stayed away. But it was all inevitable, to Lyme she would go.

Chapter 10

Hertfordshire

      When Elizabeth returned home from Netherfield, she was to learn the happy news (if it could be called happy) that Mary was engaged to Mr. Collins. It had happened during the day; as soon as Mrs. Bennet had contrived to get them alone. After dinner everything was settled between their father and Mr. Collins. He must return to Hunsford and would return, as soon as he was able, to give Mary the pleasure of making him the happiest of men.

      “I am absolutely certain that your daughter is exactly the woman whom Lady Catherine wished me to form an attachment with, let me assure you madam, it is a very strong attachment. Dear Mary is everything that I had imagined in a wife, her manners are exactly suited to my position in life and my obligations as a parson. Let me again thank you for your kind acquiescence in welcoming me into your home. I shall return as soon as I may. For you know what duties take me thither,” said he upon departure.

      Mrs. Bennet was as happy as could be imagined, for having two daughters engaged was nothing but delightful to her. She had wedding clothes to order, meals to plan, and all other busy employment. Jane congratulated Mary warmly, Lydia and Kitty, who felt no envy at all towards their sister, made very proper remarks (at least when before their sister), and Elizabeth, who thought her cousin ridiculous, gave her well-wishes when asked for them. Mr. Bennet was resigned to the circumstance but had hoped that his middle daughter would have had a small measure more of good sense.

      During the three intervening weeks before Mr. Collins was able to return, eager to settle matters and bring a wife back to Kent, Jane and Elizabeth were most often at Netherfield. Sophia, as she wished to be known to them after their service to her, was grateful for their company. Elizabeth would have come without the promise of seeing the brother, for in Sophia she found a woman of uncommon strength and intelligence, but she did not regret that this arrangement left her often in Wentworth’s company and without the uncouth hints of her loving mother.

      The only alloy to Elizabeth’s general happiness was that little progress seemed to be made on the part of the gentleman. Captain Wentworth was engaging, charming, and attentive, but while he behaved towards her with enough particularity to raise the hopes of even her rational heart, no pronouncements were made and no offers were forthcoming. If Elizabeth had not been assured of his character by his sister, brother, and friend, she might have begun to assume that he meant nothing more than to trifle with her.

      There was another event of great consequence to the younger girls in the family. Colonel Forester had married and his wife, a woman of about Lydia’s age and temper, had been instantly drawn to the youngest Bennet sister. This had greatly increased Lydia’s felicity, for she was often invited to the Forester’s residence to dine with officers. Had Jane and Elizabeth been at much liberty to observe or think on the connection, they might have sought to discourage it, but pleasantly occupied as they were there was nothing to interfere with Lydia and Kitty’s enjoyment.

      Wentworth, who often made his way into town and the company of the militia on nights when he was not engaged elsewhere, had decided to take particular notice of Wickham. While the man was generally liked in Meryton, for both his pleasing manners and handsome appearance, Wentworth reserved his judgement. That his dislike was founded in jealousy was undeniable, but he had by now often witnessed Wickham gambling and thought his manner with women, especially those of the tradesmen, to be sometimes improper. He told himself it was only an idle distraction, but he remained vigilant.

      A dinner with Mr. Philip, who was always ready to assemble a party for the amusement of his wife and nieces, gave Wentworth even more reason to be watchful. He happened to be seated next to Wickham and when the women departed, he began, “I have seen you often with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a fine family of girls, are they not?”

      Wentworth agreed.

      “I have never met such a lively girl as Miss Lydia. Is it not a great pity that they have no portion?”

      “Whatever their fortune, it does not make them any less agreeable.”

      Wickham laughed, “No, not at all. And I shall have my sport with them as well as you will, but there can never be anything like serious attachment. Men such as us must have something to live on.”

      Wentworth was struck, “Sport with them?”

      “It is only what is generally talked of in regards to Miss Elizabeth and yourself, I meant no offence. It does a girl no harm to be made love to for a few weeks together; it rather gives them some distinction among their peers.”

      “Do you have no sense of decency?”

      “Decency? You are far too fastidious. The lack of decency would not be on my side. These young girls live for flirtation, it would be wrong to deny them their little pleasures.”

      Wentworth was forced to acknowledge to himself that the flirtations from the two youngest Bennet sisters were often outside of common decorum. When the attention had been directed towards himself, it had been most often at their home and tempered by the presence of their parents. Here it must be different, it must be unrestrained.

      “I would speak of honour then,” said Wentworth, with some feeling.

      “I have no intention of engaging my honour,” Wickham scoffed, “I shall not distinguish either of them if I can help it. I have a very high opinion of matrimony.”

      “Do you?”

      “Of course, it is the surest way to make one’s fortune! Marriage is my first object, provided I can marry well. If circumstances had fallen more favourably, I might not think this way, but I was unfairly cheated out of a very fine living that was to be my own.”

      Wentworth, having no humour for this kind of talk, was more than pleased to see Mr. Philips begin to lead the way to the drawing room. He followed and watched Wickham, who began making himself agreeable to the only two Bennet sisters in attendance. Now fully aware of Wickham’s motives, he wondered if he should give a hint of it to the elder Miss Bennets. It was a disclosure to be carefully considered and he had not yet resolved on anything by the time he left for home.

Somersetshire

      While the party departed early from Lyme, and with Anne mercifully in the coach with Louisa, Henrietta, Mary, and Miss Bingley, while the men went in Mr. Bingley’s barouche, they arrived late in the day. There was not much light or warmth to do anything more than see the beach and then order dinner at the inn. Anne was careful not to sit down in proximity to Mr. Darcy, but that left her near Henrietta, who with joyful tones could only speak of her own happiness. This could not but bring painful recollections to Anne, but she retained her composure as best she could.

      The innkeeper was sorry they had come at such a time, with nothing open and not much to see, but he was silenced by their happy talk. It was true that on their walk they had seen only a single other party: a man, a little lame, walking with his wife and a few children. The deserted town however, was nothing to them for they had come to Lyme with no purpose than to be entertained and the sea was sufficient for a single day.

      The next day, all those in the party rose early and set out for the beach. Anne, though oppressed, tried to appreciate the beauty of the sea and cliffs, tried to bring to mind poetry or history as she looked upon the old town. It was a labour of some difficulty, for she had again chosen to walk beside Henrietta, who could not help but speak on subjects that to anyone but her lover must be tiresome. Anne glanced once or twice at Mr. Darcy, but he was walking with Miss Bingley and his expression was impenetrably stoic.

      As they came to the steps up from the beach, a gentleman, preparing to go down, stopped to give them way. They ascended and passed, and as they passed Anne’s face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a degree of earnest admiration, which she could not be insensible of. Suddenly, as she watched him, she saw his face change to a palest white and discerning that the cause was another in their party, looked round. The man’s eyes were fixed on Mr. Darcy, who, being the last of the party and only now at the top of the steps, perceived the man. His colour changed to red and for a moment they look at each other. Mr. Darcy deigned to touch his hat, a gesture the other man returned before he rushed away from them.

      Anne could not understand what it meant, it was impossible to know, but impossible not to long to know.

      No one else of the party had noticed the strange interaction and they went gaily to the inn to take breakfast. When they were nearly done, the sound of a carriage drew half the party to the window. It was a gentleman’s carriage, a curricle, but only coming round from the stable-yard to the front door; someone must be going away. It was driven by a servant in mourning. Anne saw the same gentleman again but did not dare look at Mr. Darcy.

      As they were nearly done, the party began to break up and prepare for a final walk about the beach before they must return to Uppercross. Anne took aside the waiter and asked, “Can you tell me the name of that gentleman who is just gone away?”

      “Yes, ma’am, a Mr. Elliot, a gentleman of large fortune, came in last night from Sidmouth and now going on his way to Bath.”

      “Elliot?” Anne gasped, “did he mention his family?”

      “No ma’am, he did not mention no particular family, but the servant said his master was a very rich gentleman, and would be a baronight some day.”

      This intelligence gave Anne only more to wonder at; Mr. Darcy must know her cousin! The breech between Mr. Elliot and Sir Walter had happened many years prior and she knew nothing of her cousin’s friends or business. They must know each other and there must be black feelings between them. What the cause could be, of so grave a look on each side, Anne could not begin to guess.

      The party was soon to depart themselves but Louisa and Mr. Bingley wished to again walk along the Cobb and it was generally agreed that one more half hour could be spared before they parted. The wind was too strong to make it agreeable for the ladies to walk along the upper level and so they were to descend down the narrow steps. Charles helped his wife and Henrietta. Louisa, who had often been jumped down from stiles while walking with Mr. Bingley, and who loved to do it, called for him to catch her.

      “But the pavement is too hard,” he protested.

      Louisa only laughed, “It will not be too hard if you catch me.”

      She jumped and to show her delight, ran up to be jumped down again. Bingley caught her again, and Anne, waiting to proceed, watched them laugh together and saw such a look of admiration on her face, and joy upon his, that her heart for a moment ached with jealousy. She was about to go down herself before Mr. Darcy put himself forward that he might help her and Miss Bingley. Anne waited, she took his hand and tried to catch his eye, but he was looking down the Cobb and she did not feel equal to speaking.

      Anne walked a few steps off, on purpose to admire the sea, regardless of her own feelings. She felt that Mr. Darcy’s eye followed her, though she did not turn back, and she would have remained there longer, to escape the scene behind her, if she had not heard Miss Bingley cry out.

      She turned, she saw Mr. Darcy turning towards the stairs, where Miss Bingley, two or three steps from the bottom, has slipped and fallen to the ground. Her hands went to her ankle.

      “I think it must be broken!” she exclaimed.

      “What can be done?” cried Mr. Bingley, rushing to his sister’s side.

      Anne was kneeling beside her in a moment and upon examination, said, “I do not believe it is more than a sprain.”

      There was a sudden and quick look of annoyance from the lady which Anne was sure was directed at herself, “How can you know?” Miss Bingley demanded; her pitiable voice marked with anger.

      Anne stood and replied calmly, “If you feel it is a severe injury, there is surely a surgeon in Lyme.”

      Mr. Bingley seemed ready to set out and search for one when Mr. Darcy stopped him, “Miss Elliot, what do you suggest should be done?”

      Anne looked at him, saw the same expression of kind solicitude that she had seen before. She replied, “It is only a sprain. If she is helped to the carriage, I can see no difficulty in her being cared for more comfortably at home.”

      This was acceptable to the whole party, and to Miss Bingley as soon as it became apparent that Mr. Darcy would be aiding her. Her brother took the other arm and she leaned heavily on Mr. Darcy as they helped her towards the road. Anne walked slowly behind them, gratified by his recognition of her abilities but certain that it all meant nothing. After Miss Bingley was helped into the couch, he was gone and she was left to watch a rapid recovery from the sprain on their long journey home.

Chapter 11

Maybe have Wentworth talk to Benwick and they agree that it’s better to tell Elizabeth rather than Mr. Bennet

Hertfordshire

      That Monday brought Mr. Collins back to Longbourn and everything seemed to be proceeding in a happy train. He was to stay until Saturday and his next journey to Hertfordshire, three weeks following, would see the marriage completed. Mrs. Bennet was all busy bustle and overwrought cordiality; Mr. Bennet prepared for another week of his library being frequently invaded; and Elizabeth escaped to Netherfield as often as she could. Her dose of Mr. Collins had already been enough; she had no more pleasure to share with her father at his expense. Lady Catherine, Rosings, and Anne de Bourgh were all sufficiently known to her, as much as speech could render acquaintance, and there was nothing else that Mr. Collins had to relate besides the state of his closets.

      Jane and Elizabeth spent most of their morning at Netherfield and before leaving set off to walk about the grounds with Benwick and Wentworth. As usual, the couples were soon separated, by either the dawdling of one pair or the quick step of the other and Elizabeth found Wentworth looking rather grave.

      “If something the matter?” she asked, once they were alone.

      “I feel a duty to inform you of something that pertains to your younger sisters,” said he.

      Elizabeth blushed, “I know that they have been chasing after officers and have not thought on anything serious since the arrival of Colonel Forester’s regiment.”

      He saw her embarrassment and said quickly, “I do not mean to reproach them, or yourself. I only thought it best that you should know; they are often in company with Mr. Wickham. I think he is a particular favourite of at least your youngest sister. I have reason to think his intentions are dishonourable.”

      “How so?” she said, with great concern.

      “He has told me himself that he has no intentions towards them but to indulge in their attention. I do not wish your sisters to be harmed by raised hopes.”

      Elizabeth, feeling some righteous indignation on this particular point, replied, “Is this all you have to accuse him of; how does one define harmless flirtation as opposed to dishonourable intentions? Where is the line between cordiality and cruelty?”

      “I do not mean to give offense; it was kindly meant.”

      “At what point would my sisters form an expectation, do you suppose? If one was distinguished, that is to say: sought after often in large parties, had many private conversations, and received hints even, from friends, would she then form expectations? A small flirtation in mixed company may be judged as harmless, do not you agree?”

      “If it was only harmless gallantry, I would not have ventured to inform you, but there are other reasons for my disapprobation.”

      Elizabeth dared not carry her point further, “Please explain, sir.”

      “Wickham does seem to be a favourite of Miss Lydia, and even if he does not seek her out, she is sure to follow him. While his reputation seems beyond reproach from the general report in Meryton, I must tell you that I have heard and seen hints that he is not all he appears to be.”

      “Do you think my sisters in danger?”

      “I cannot say, though it would be better if they were to avoid his company. Perhaps your mother and Aunt Philips could not make a point in inviting him? Though I do not seek to overstep.”

      “I will consider your advice,” said Elizabeth in a measured tone, “I would hate to see any woman disappointed in love.”

      “It is a common affliction,” said he, “one must only hope it can be recovered from in time.”

      Elizabeth could endure this line of conversation no longer, she withdrew her arm from his and said curtly, “My mother requests you join us for dinner tonight to make up her table. Shall I tell her you will attend?”

      “I shall come if you would have me.”

      “It cannot be of consequence to me, but my mother will be distressed if she cannot make up enough couples. You know she is very particular about dinner parties.”

      “I would never wish to cause any member of your family distress.”

      “How very gallant. I shall inform her of your coming then, I must go request the carriage.”

      “I can see I have distressed you; I did not mean to cause you pain.”

      “I am sure it was unconsciously done,” Elizabeth said, “you need not worry on my account; I am sure you do not.” With a look of anger she could not hide, Elizabeth turned and walked away from him. It was all Elizabeth could do to keep herself from running; she could not hear another word from him on such a subject when her own heart was bleeding. She must learn to be indifferent; she must guard herself. How could he accuse others of what he did himself? In indignation, she resolved to avoid him that night and, if he did not seek her out, to never think of him fondly again.

Somersetshire

      Anne’s month at Kellynch Lodge had only a few weeks before been highly anticipated. She had imagined seeing Mr. Darcy often, thought that Lady Russell would like him and enjoy talking to him, but now none of that was to be. Mr. Darcy went the next day back to Bath and she did not hear of him again. Mr. Bingley, to the surprise of none and the joy of most, spoke to his lady and Mr. Musgrove the very next day and now engaged, spent nearly every day at Uppercross. Anne saw little of him and less of his sisters, which she could not consider too great an evil.

      The dread of removing to Bath was diminished by the dull society she endured for the month of December. Lady Russell’s conversation often turned to the plight of her father and Elizabeth in Bath. Anne had hardly thought of their situation two months prior, and found it difficult to meet Lady Russell’s interest on that subject. There seemed to be an embargo on everything else, she dared not speak of Mr. Darcy and did not wish to speak of the Musgroves.

      January brought them to Bath. Anne had not anticipated much of a reception at her father’s house but she was welcomed with more cordiality than she expected. Her father and sister were glad to see her, for the sake of shewing her the house and furniture, and met her with kindness. Her making a fourth when they sat down to dinner was noticed as an advantage.

      Anne was most surprised to hear of Mr. Elliot, whom she found had been in Bath since the day she had seen him leave Lyme, and who had been entirely forgiven by her family. Her father and sister could hardly speak of anything else and quickly gave the history of the last month: his explanations of the breech between them and their appreciation of his attention and manners. When Anne mentioned that she had seen him in Lyme herself, she was scarcely attended to.

      No sooner had they done that Mr. Elliot himself knocked and was admitted. It was late but he had been determined to see them. Anne saw that it was the same man, no different but in dress. She drew back a little while he spoke to her father and sister, but then he was before her and she smiled and blushed. He gave a small start of surprise and she became aware that he had not known who she was. Her curiosity was heightened and she longed that they would have a moment alone that she might learn of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy.

      This would prove to be beyond Anne’s power, Sir Walter and Elizabeth must speak with Mr. Elliot and Anne could only participate. Now she was asked by him about her stay in Lyme and her father and sister became interested and listened to her as well. He had only been passing through, he regretted now that he had not asked the name of the other party, Musgrove would have told him enough! Anne accepted this as a compliment to herself and was flattered, for she could discern that he was a man of intelligence and taste.

      She hoped within the next few days to find a moment alone with him, but she did not have long to wait. The very next morning he called on them again, just as Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay were to depart for some shopping on Bond Street and he proposed to walk down with them. Anne only had to join them and as she had no desire to shop, she soon had gained her point. She was walking alone with Mr. Elliot. She might have wondered how to broach the subject but Mr. Elliot began in earnest.

      “Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”

      “He has been staying at Kellynch the last two months, with a friend Mr. Bingley. We were often in company together,” she replied.

      “You must forgive my directness; I have particular reason to be concerned in your association with Mr. Darcy. You must be unaware of the circumstances surrounding our acquaintance?”

      Anne nodded, “Your connections have been wholly unknown to me these last ten years.”

      Mr. Elliot frowned, “An unfortunate mistake on my part! I had thought your father threw me off, but I think you have heard all of this from your family by now.”

      “Yes, I am aware of all that has passed and been forgiven.”

       “Allow me then to return to Mr. Darcy. We attended Cambridge together and we moved in the same circles. There were three of us particularly who were friends, Mr. Smith, Darcy, and myself. Some misunderstanding occurred between us and I have not personally heard from Darcy for several years. He had new friends and I am sure thought himself above my company, poor lawyer as I was.”

      This Anne could believe but she did wonder; her cousin by that time would have been the heir presumptive of her father’s title and in no way a contemptable connection.

      Mr. Elliot continued, “My friend, Smith, I believe, was always on friendly terms with Darcy, but they did not meet very often to my knowledge. Between myself and Smith there was always a steady friendship, I loved him like a brother! He had good fortune and little experience of what to do with it. I acted often as his agent, aiding in the investment of his money and writing contracts for him- I shall not bore you with the details of my profession. However, Smith died very recently and when it occurred, he was heavily indebted.”

      “I am very sorry for your loss,” said Anne.

      “A man could not have felt the loss of a friend more dearly, and so close to the death of my own wife,” Mr. Elliot paused for a moment to collect himself, “his affairs were in great disorder and in my own grief, I could not bring myself to act as the executor of his estate. I asked his widow only for some time. I had every assurance that her situation was adequate for her maintenance until I was able to render the services. Yet, she must have appealed to Darcy, for suddenly he was writing to me and accusing me of every kind of evil and negligence.”

      “How could he think it so?” Anne asked, astonished.

      “Darcy has a great abhorrence of profligacy, which ought to have made him disgusted by Smith’s way of living in such excess of his income. And yet, he has refused to believe that the damage was done by the man himself, God rest him, and instead has filed suit against myself. He strives to protect Smith’s reputation by sinking my own.”

      “But why would Mr. Darcy do such a thing?” cried Anne.

      “Pride! He is excessively proud of his standing in society and he has strong familial pride. He cannot abide that anyone connected with himself should be disgraced in such a way before society. There is more motive, I believe, in that some of Smith’s investments were for the benefit of Darcy’s interests.”

      Anne did not reply, but silently considered all that he had spoken. Pride she could easily believe to form Mr. Darcy’s character and inform his motives. This explained the whole, why Darcy had left Kellynch so suddenly and why he had treated her such coldness on her return. He could not have known how unconnected her family had been with Mr. Elliot. She began to feel relief that everything had happened when it did, a man of such character could not possess a heart worth having.

      Mr. Elliot did not speak further as Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay joined them again. Anne found later that evening that Elizabeth and her father were also in Mr. Elliot’s confidence and completely on his side.

      “If there was anything I could do to prevent him from entering Kellynch, then it would be done in an instant,” Sir Walter declared, “but he is only a guest and there is no help for it. I can assure you that he shall never be admitted here or be acknowledged by any member of our family.”

      Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay heartily agreed. Anne felt some comfort in the safety of knowing that she was unlikely to encounter Mr. Darcy again in Bath. Now she must learn to entirely forget him.

Chapter 12

Hertfordshire

      Wentworth, who had thought of his own heart as broken and untouched, could not have imagined the exquisite pain that the night’s dinner would bring. Elizabeth, though seated beside him, scarcely spoke a word or even turned her eyes towards him. He was mortified, he was sorry, and he would have given the world for her to grace him with a smile. What he had felt the day of Wickham’s arrival in town was nothing; it was entirely forgotten. He deserved nothing from her and yet he could not bear her indifference.

      Adding to his displeasure was Mr. Collins, whom he was forced to speak to by the circumstance of them being placed together. As Elizabeth was determined to turn only to the right, he must turn to the left. “My esteemed patroness has often spoken to me of the navy,” said Mr. Collins, in utmost solemnity, “she is not convinced that it is an entirely proper profession. There are reports of a certain nature that I must own I find most distressing. But, however, I am certain that nothing of that nature could apply to someone who is such a particular friend to the Bennet family.”

      “Of what do you speak?” Wentworth asked dryly, expecting some of the usual hysteria from the papers, he was to be surprised.

      “She has often observed a lack of distinction of rank among the officers, a tendency for persons to have ideas above their station. And yet, I must add sir, that you are in every way the gentleman. I can only speak of general reports.”

      “I wish that you might inform me, sir, on how to better observe the priority of birth the next time I overtake a French frigate. I shall own that it is not often my first consideration at such times, I am usually far more concerned about the canon fire.”

      Mr. Collins found himself in a puzzle and instead of answering he declared, “A noble profession! It must be a noble profession, do not mistake my meaning. However, it was a great displeasure to my Ladyship when last year when she was in company of Lord St. Ives, whose father, I must inform you, was only a country curate, that she was seated directly beside him. I would have never presumed so much myself, though I am her rector. As a new-made Lord, he must not have been properly appraised of the very ancient line from which Lady Catherine de Bourgh descends.”

      Wentworth looked at the man in amazement but could not find a way to respond.

      Mr. Collins continued, “It is not that those in the navy have not worked hard enough for their comforts, but then all of us who must pursue a profession know this burden. A rector must in the first place make agreement for tithes, he must write his own sermons, and the time that remains is devoted to parish duties and the improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment.”

      “How generous of you to make time for christening, marrying, and burying your parishioners whenever you are not devoted to the maintenance of your home or your income.”

      “I thank you. I must observe that when my devoted cousin Mary joins me in my establishment,” said Mr. Collins, looking at his intended, “she will be just the helpmeet that I have long desired. Lady Catherine has often told me in the last few weeks that she believes very strongly in early marriage in order to establish a proper house manager and to practice the Christian virtue of economy. She even condescended to visit my humble abode and better advise me on the fitting up of the ladies’ chamber.”

      It seemed fortunate that Mr. Collins was now called upon by Mrs. Bennet to describe the particulars of improvement, but as Wentworth was still unable to draw Elizabeth into conversation, he had no better discourse for the rest of the meal. He twice was able to ask her a question but neither answer was longer than a monosyllable.

      The men did not remain long after the women departed, Wentworth had counted on this, knowing that Mr. Bennet had no more pleasure in Mr. Collins’ conversation than himself. As they went to join the ladies, Wentworth was forming plans to speak to Elizabeth. These were dashed, however, when he entered. Elizabeth had seated herself on a sofa between her mother and Kitty and could not be approached.

      It was not until the tea was announced that he felt any chance but the table was crowded and Elizabeth was attending to her duty of pouring coffee with steady determination. It was only when he brought his coffee cup back himself that she turned towards him.

      “I hope your sister is not too disappointed that neither Jane or I could stay for dinner,” said she.

      “I daresay she will survive the night, though she has grown very fond of your company. I have always thought Sophia had excellent taste in friends.”

      “In all the connections which she has chosen I cannot find fault,” Elizabeth said coldly.

      He could not think of anything to say and stood for a moment without speaking before Elizabeth moved away from him and pointedly joined a rubber her mother was making up for whist. That game was now full and Wentworth knew at once that for the rest of the evening he would be confined to another table. He resigned himself to only watch her from across the room and hope that in her consciousness of it, she played as poorly as he did. Wentworth’s luck had failed him and Mr. Collins, who was scarcely even master of the rules, took the game.

      The only relief came at the end of the night, for while Elizabeth hung back and spoke with one of her younger sisters, Miss Bennet came forward to see them off and Benwick proposed that both he and Wentworth come to call on them the next morning. She, oblivious perhaps of what had passed that evening, accepted cheerfully for both herself and Elizabeth and Wentworth must only hope that by then he might be able to beg for forgiveness.

Somersetshire

      Anne’s mind was taken up for the first week at Bath with the concerns of her family, those of Elizabeth, her father, and now her cousin. She learned nearly as soon as she arrived, with some distress, that Mrs. Clay was to remain with them. Elizabeth’s interest in the friendship had not diminished and to Anne’s consternation, she observed in her father less indifference towards Mrs. Clay than before. The evil of such an alliance had been forgotten completely by Anne during the previous few months. Yet, she tried to think that Mr. Elliot might have re-established the family connection in order to marry Elizabeth and Anne herself could always command a home with Lady Russell.

      Sir Walter had only one concern to relate to his daughter, which is that he found her looks quite as diminished as ever, and he recommended several different treatments, which Anne agreed to without committing any to memory. She did not think that a constant application of Gowland would do much to reverse her fortunes or restore lightness to her mind. She had no motive to reveal the truth behind her discomposure.

      Only one endeavour gave Anne the smallest hope of happiness and usefulness. She had called on her former governess and heard from her that an old school-fellow was in Bath. Mrs. Smith, formerly Miss Hamilton, had been very kind towards Anne during her time in school and was now widowed and staying near the hot baths in Westgate Buildings. Lady Russell was happy to convey Anne there and Anne went to meet her old friend.

      Anne found Mrs. Smith very comfortably settled in a small apartment. There was a snug parlour to greet her guest, the door answered by a maid, and Mrs. Smith cheerfully reported that she had a nurse who divided her time between herself and a Mrs. Wallis who expected every day to be entering her confinement. While she was suffering from infirmity and scarcely able to walk, Mrs. Smith had a cheerful spirit and spoke quite happily with her friend.

      To speak of their time together, so long ago, was a welcome reprieve to Anne. The long separation between the two friends gave them much to dwell upon and when her hour was nearly ended, Anne was quick to propose that she should come again soon. The answer somewhat startled her.

      “I did not expect to see you at all,” Mrs. Smith said, with some hesitation, “it gives me great pleasure to visit with you and I hope with all my heart you will come again. But your family does not disapprove?”

      “My father and sister would never deign to visit you here but that can have no effect on my behaviour. There is a duty in friendship that I shall not scorn.”

      Mrs. Smith took her hand gratefully and said, “I am to learn again and again that there are indeed true friendships in this world. Your visit here is most appreciated and if you have time to come within the week, I would be most obliged to you.”

      A time was settled on and Anne left the building. As she walked towards Camden Place, she was arrested for a moment by the sight of Mr. Darcy. He was walking with a quick step towards the very building she had left. They were on opposing sides of the street but Anne could not help but watch him and wonder at his purpose. He for a moment caught her eye and stopped. She fancied that he was considering if he should cross the street, but it was only a moment before he began to walk again. She turned and watched him until he did indeed enter Westgate Buildings and disappeared from her sight.

      Anne returned to the house and joined the rest of her family in the drawing room. Mr. Elliot was present, as he often was, making himself agreeable to the whole party. Anne could not help but feeling a hint of artifice in his manner. Observing him that evening she was unable to perceive any hint of regard in his behaviour towards Elizabeth and therefore his plans in re-establishing the connection could not be well understood by herself. In the course of that night however, she began to suspect another motive. Mr. Elliot seemed very intent, when he could contrive it without offense to the others, in finding moments to spend alone with her.

      When Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay were talking together and her father engaged with another guest, he took a moment to say to her in an undervoice, “Though you were entirely unknown to me, cousin, before this week, I have heard a great deal about you and thought very highly of your merit. I have for some time felt a great curiosity to know you and now that we have become acquainted to some degree, I know my source to be entirely correct.”

      Anne could not help but ask to know more but in a teasing manner, he rebuffed her questions. He delighted in being asked but he would not tell. In a moment Elizabeth was back beside them and Anne, no longer needing to speak, was left to wonder. Could Mr. Elliot have intentions towards her? For a moment Anne could feel all the joy of someday taking the place of her departed mother as the mistress of Kellynch Hall, of restoring economy, charity, and respectability to her beloved home, but she knew it could not be. As charming and intelligent as Mr. Elliot was, she did not trust him.

      Anne could not clearly articulate her apprehension, even to herself, but there was something strange in his manner: both open and entirely reserved. He spoke so sparingly of the past that Anne suspected his conduct had not always been what it ought to. He was so friendly and conversant to everyone, even Mrs. Clay, but when Mrs. Clay was not present it was clear that he disdained her presence in the family circle. She doubted his word and mistrusted his attention. However, until it came to the point, there was nothing for her to do but observe and try to understand more of his character.

      Anne’s mind drifted, unbidden, back to Mr. Darcy. What could a man such as himself been doing in Westgate Buildings? She had not thought he would have any acquaintance in that part of Bath or that he would wish to visit them if he did, yet there he had been. Her cousin had accused him of pride and she had seen it displayed herself. But then what had been his errand? She recalled that he had in fact visited Charles Hayter in the end. Was his pride really so improper?

      “All my cousin has accused Mr. Darcy of is helping a widow,” she said to herself. Anne wished ardently to speak to him again but felt certain that it could never be.

Chapter 13

Hertfordshire

      The post came that morning and Benwick sought out Wentworth. He had word from Captain Harville, the brother of his late fiancé. Benwick had written to him upon the occasion of his engagement and the reply had just now finally reached his hands. Wentworth was to soon discover that Harville was settled in Lyme, that he had found good employment there despite his injury, and that he wished greatly for their company if the journey could be completed at some point without great inconvenience.

      The greatest purpose of this correspondence however, was to relate Harville’s compliments towards Benwick and Miss Bennet. Though she was wholly unknown to him, Captain Benwick’s descriptions and sentiments, when so carefully expressed in the epistolary form, had apparently been enough to do away with regret and disapprobation which might have been justly felt by the brother of Benwick’s former love:

       I consider it the greatest stroke of fortune that you have found a second chance at happiness. I shall be forever grieved that I cannot welcome you to visit as my brother, though you shall remain to me as close as any brother in fact might be. If your situations had been reversed, I know that we would have wished for our dear sister to find likewise lasting felicity. Perhaps we would not have thought it would come so soon.

      My congratulations therefore, on your engagement. I shall look forward to meeting Miss Bennet and learning for myself what you have told me of in such beautiful language.

      Wentworth was surprised, had he known that Benwick had written Harville, he would have expected a reply of a much different nature.

      Benwick said with feeling, “I have never considered myself blessed, but to have met two such women in my life and been loved by each of them is more than any man has a just claim to.”

      “You have indeed been very lucky, despite your disappointment.”

      “It would have been infinity better if I had not been forced to endure such suffering on my road to happiness, but as Cowper says, ‘the darkest day if you live till tomorrow will have past away.’ And is not joy magnified by past misery? If it never rained, we should not rejoice in the sunshine, if we never despaired, we should not truly feel delight. It is this exquisite contrast that gives meaning to our mortal existence.”

      “Unless the wound is too great and dulls all feeling, like a scar upon the body that no longer responds to touch or cold.”

      “No, I cannot think it true; There is no heart too wounded to be warmed,” cried Benwick.

      “What is broken cannot always be repaired, but more vital to ultimate happiness is if the restoration happens in time for the owner to realize what is before them.”

      “Of whom do you speak?” said Benwick, suddenly aware the conversation had moved beyond the poetic and theoretical.

      “I am in love with Elizabeth Bennet.”

      “That has been readily apparent for several weeks,” Benwick nearly laughed, but seeing the face of his friend, he checked himself.

      “Perhaps to all but myself. How can I have been so blind?”

      “If you make your declaration, I cannot think she would refuse you.”

      “Anyone who had seen her face would not have thought so.”

      Benwick, who was in love and secure in it, must imagine every other person to have similar good fortune. He cried, “You cannot imagine that hope is lost, I do not allow it to be so.”

      “She did not believe me when I tried to warn her about Wickham. Can there be any surer proof that I have lost her trust?”

      “We are to see them in a matter of hours, then you may judge more clearly. You must certainly be in love to judge so irrationally. A woman being out of humour with you for a single day is not the end of all hope.”

      Here was reason. Wentworth must submit to it. He must hope to share in his friend’s fortune; to expect that he was likewise destined to form a second attachment. There was nothing he could doubt in Elizabeth’s character, she was firm in her own opinions, lively, and intelligent. He could not bear to be separated from her and this must be proof of attachment. He was resolved, entirely resolved. Wentworth must now only learn what Elizabeth would be.

Somersetshire

      On the second visit, only a few days later, Mrs. Smith was very talkative and she related much of her past to Anne. Her accommodations, she said, might have been very bad if upon arriving she had not heard that a friend of her husband was in the country.

      “I wrote to him and he has done everything for me.” Mrs. Smith said gaily, “ He has had me moved into better room, supplied me with Nurse Rooke, and is acting on my behalf in other matters as well. His name is Mr. Darcy.” Anne must have looked surprised for Mrs. Smith exclaimed, “Do you know of him?”

      “We are acquainted. Have you known Mr. Darcy many years?”

      “Oh yes, for he was an old school fellow of my husband’s. We did not move in the same circles, but there were always visits and correspondence between them. When my husband died, I received a very kind letter. I should have requested his help sooner but I was foolishly proud. When I heard he was near Bath I could not help but ask for his assistance.”

      “With what matter did you need his assistance?”

      Mrs. Smith replied, “I will admit that for many years, my husband and I lived beyond our income. When he died, my husband’s affairs were left in such a state of disarray and the man he left to be his agent would not act for me. I had nothing and no one to help me. I have no family, as you know, and no money to pay for anyone else’s assistance.”

      “And Mr. Darcy is acting for you?”

      “In every way that he can! He has even promised to recover some debts that I thought long ago would never be repaid. My husband was very liberal and to some friends he gave a great deal, though expecting restitution in time. I should not have been surprised, for I know Mr. Darcy to be the very best of men.”

      Anne was surprised by this account and could only repeat, “Mr. Darcy?”

      “Why are you so surprised?”

      “I know Mr. Darcy, he is in this county staying with a friend at Kellynch Hall.”

      “Has it been a long acquaintance? If you do know him, I am surprised that you find anything in my report wondrous.”

      Anne blushed, and realizing something suddenly said, “It was the second week in November, when he came to help you?”

      “Yes, I suppose it was. He said he came as soon as my letter reached him, my husband’s accounts were so confused he was obliged to stay for more than a week.”

      Anne’s mind was moving rapidly, the man Mr. Darcy had disparaged was not her father, it was Mr. Smith! The Elliot debt must be that of her cousin. It was not her future prospects that he held in doubt. Anne’s heart swelled.

      Mrs. Smith continued on, “He is exactly the sort of man one would wish for in a circumstance such as this, for he was everything conciliatory and obliging. But then I have always known him to be liberal and good-hearted. I speak of course, as a friend and now as someone in great need, but it has always been my opinion. He is one of the best men I know.”

      “I must know,” Anne said, taking her friend’s hand, “who is the man that you spoke of, who would not act for you.”

      Mrs. Smith hesitated and did not answer.

      “Is it my cousin? You have no reason to fear speaking of him to me.”

      “Yes, it is Mr. William Elliot. According to Mr. Darcy, he owes in excess of ten thousand pounds to the estate of my husband, which is why he would not act to settle the affairs. He does not wish to repay such a sum.”

      Anne had not words to form the tumult of her feeling. She was obliged to sit for some time in silence. Mrs. Smith waited patiently. Finally, Anne forced herself to say, “You are then, acquainted with my cousin?”

      “Yes, I have known him very well, intimately, until the death of my husband we were as close as I can imagine friends to be, but now I have seen-” she paused.

      Anne took her friend’s hand and the words burst from her, “You must tell me the whole of it, Mr. Elliot has told me such things that I cannot believe. Allow me to be undeceived in his character.”

      Mrs. Smith related her information and supplied good evidence where she could in the form of letters. She had much to tell. The history was this, Mr. Smith had always been ready to aid his friend in times of poverty, before he married his wife. She brought to Anne’s cousin great fortune. Afterwards, Mr. Elliot had induced the Smiths to live in excess of their income, while at the same time always finding excuses to avoid repaying his many debts. In order to avoid repayment entirely, he had refused to act as the executor of the estate. He knew Mrs. Smith could not afford to pursue justice.

      “He has come to Bath on a dual purpose,” Mrs. Smith continued, “for he must come to argue his lawsuit but I am told he is sure to lose. The written agreements are too clear for the courts to not decide in our favour, of this Mr. Darcy has assured me. Mr. Elliot has applied to your father to use his interest in any way that he can. I hope that he is mistaken on this account and that Sir Walter’s influence shall not be felt.”

      “However, a second motive exists. For some time, Mr. Elliot has been determined to inherit the baronetcy and was distressed to hear of your sister’s companion. Sir Walter remarrying he sees as the greatest evil. He is carefully watching Mrs. Clay’s progress and hoping to put her off by his presence.”

      “All this,” cried Anne, “that I had some uncertainty about his manner I will confess but I never thought him to be so artful, so lacking in any morality! But how might I speak to my father, he will not hear me. And Elizabeth will be as blind towards Mr. Elliot as she has been towards Mrs. Clay!”

      “I am sure the particulars will be covered in the paper, once the trail begins,” Mrs. Smith began, but Anne shook her head.

      “They will not believe facts over such a charming man, there is too much motivation to trust him. I am already guaranteed that it is nothing but lies. There is nothing that I can do.”

      Mrs. Smith looked at her with grave concern but had no solution to offer. She was too much acquainted with Mr. Elliot to doubt his powers of persuasion and conversation. They sat for a few minutes in vexatious contemplation before a knock at the door brought forth the maid and Anne was forced to compose herself.

      A tall, well-dressed, young woman entered and with a look of surprise regarded Anne, “I am sorry,” she said quickly, “I did not think you would have another visitor. Please excuse me.”

      Anne stood to go before Mrs. Smith said, “No, dear Miss Darcy, it cannot be an imposition.” Anne was arrested and could not move further than she had gone.

      “If you would introduce me,” Miss Darcy said softly and Anne found herself receiving the very honour she had been unfairly deprived of. There was a great deal of shyness in Miss Darcy’s manner, but upon hearing Anne’s name, she made a small smile and said to her, “My brother has spoken to me of you, Miss Elliot. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

      “Your brother?” Anne repeated, hardly knowing what to say.

      “Yes, he waits for me below, I came on purpose to tell you,” she turned to Mrs. Smith, “that my aunt has just arrived in town and I must wait on her today. Would it be agreeable to you if I was to come tomorrow instead for our visit, at the same time?”

      Mrs. Smith accepted this alteration of appointment with all the kind solicitude that could calm the embarrassment of Miss Darcy for calling so suddenly. As Miss Darcy prepared to go, Mrs. Smith begged her to only stay a moment longer, “You know I am a sad gossip, please tell me the name of this aunt. It will give me something to think of for the day.”

      Anne did not remain to hear. She made her farewells and flew out of the room. She was down the stairs and onto the street before she knew where she was and in a moment was before him. They stood for a moment, both embarrassed and neither knowing quite how to begin.

      “How long have you been in Bath?” said he.

      “About two weeks now.”

      There was a long pause.

      Anne, worried that Miss Darcy might descend any moment, began, “You may not be aware that we have a friend in common, Mrs. Smith was a schoolfellow of mine, many years ago. A very dear friend. We unfortunately had not seen or heard from each other in some time.”

      “You have been renewing your intimacy?”

      “Yes, the particulars of her current plight have only just become known to me- the whole of it was unfolded to me, just as your sister-” Anne stopped and feeling a degree of embarrassment she had never felt before, was unable to continue. She had not yet had time to consider what everything had meant or to wonder if that not for the current situation, everything might have continued as she had once hoped it would. Had not Mr. Elliot done so much wrong by Mrs. Smith, would Anne have been accompanying Miss Darcy as a beloved friend or sister? But that was too much to have hoped. It was too much to now consider in this moment of anxious agitation.

      “Your family, do they know of it?” he asked, with some urgency.

      Anne could only lower her eyes and say, “They will not believe the truth.”

      The small distance them seemed suddenly an immeasurable void. What would her father or sister think if they saw her now, speaking to the very man they had sworn to be their darkest enemy? This was a breech so complete that nothing could be supposed to cross it. The coming together of the Elliot and Darcy families could not be hoped for or even imagined. He was as lost to her as ever, as she had imagined him to be since the day she had overheard them in the garden. Everything must be misery now.

      Recollecting herself, Anne said, “I must return home.” She offered her hand and he clasped it looking at her with an expression that could only have one meaning even to her. She could not bear to look at him any longer and turned away. She burst away from him in haste and devoted all of her attention to maintaining her countenance for the long walk home.

Chapter 14

Hertfordshire

      The gentlemen were delayed most unhappily that morning by one of the horses throwing a shoe. A note was dispatched and it was nearly an hour past their original appointment before they set off for Longbourn. The two men proceeded along the path where they seldom encountered another soul unless the Bennet sisters had set out for Meryton. It was natural, therefore, that Wentworth took particular notice of an officer and a woman, slightly off the path and obscured by the overhanging trees. His attention increased as he recognized the man as Wickham and began to perceive that he was taking liberties with some lady.

      He stopped and in alerting his friend, caught the attention of the couple. The girl turned round and Wentworth acted before he could think. He was dismounted, before them, and taking Miss Lydia Bennet by the hand and beginning to pull her away from him before thought had informed his actions or emotion had touched his mind. That she must be away from Wickham was his only motive and he could not understand when she ripped her hand out of his grasp and planted her feet in indignation.

      “Unhand me!” said she. He did not attempt to recover her hand, but looked at Wickham, who stood motionless in a stupid manner.

      “You must come with us to Longbourn,” Wentworth said as calmly as he could.

      “I shall do no such thing,” Lydia cried, “We are only out for a walk, which is what you have done with my sister Lizzy a hundred times. You mean to ruin all our fun: warning our father against the most amiable man in the world. I shall not come away with you for the world!”

      There was no time to reflect on the better part of this information, that despite Elizabeth’s anger with him, she had chosen to heed his warning and act upon it. No, his first object was to remove Miss Lydia from Wickham’s company as soon as possible and to inform her father of the unfortunate position they had been in when he happened upon them.

      “Where is your sister?” he demanded, knowing that they never left the house alone.

      With a stout, defiant look she said, “I have left her with the Lucases, I am not missed.”

      This was nothing to help in his case and as he would not move her with force there was only the good that words alone might do, “Your family will be expecting you, will not they?”

      “We shall not be missed until dinner; I was to be with my friend Mrs. Forester all morning.”

      She could not be worked on; Wentworth turned to Wickham, who was by now making some very exact calculations of the probable turn of events. Wickham was alone, he was unsupported, and he guessed with great accuracy that even one of the naval officers had seen ten times as much real combat already as Wickham ever wished to encounter in his life. That they were moving towards some sort of contest was a most distressing idea; a circumstance most dearly wished to be avoided. And so, with all the forward thinking of a man with a great deal of experience with these matters, he made his case.

      “I only happened upon Miss Lydia upon the path. I was very surprised to find her alone and I meant to escort her back to Longbourn,” he said in a pleasant, conciliatory tone.

      “Wickham?” Lydia cried out, and made to move towards him, but he held out a hand to stop her.

      “Madam, please allow these fine naval officers to see you safely conveyed. I have business in Meryton that I ought to attend to directly.” With this, and perceiving no interference from the gentlemen before him, Wickham bowed and began to walk in the opposite direction from Longbourn. Lydia followed him for a few steps, called to him, and turned back towards Wentworth and Benwick in anger.

      “You have sent him away! You cannot know how much he loves me; he is so particularly attached to me. I will go into Meryton-” she stopped, and looking somewhat silly, stood in the path without a clear idea of what she might do.

      “Benwick,” said Wentworth to his friend, “Will you call upon the Lucases and let Miss Kitty know where her sister has gone.”

      He was off and Lydia, who was now absorbing the acute disappointment of being abandoned by her lover at the slightest provocation, was of a mind to go back home. She did not look at her companion and did everything she could to keep ahead of him. Wentworth allowed it to be so and followed her, leading his horse, until they reached the house. They entered almost together and Mrs. Bennet, who had come towards the door to greet the two men, was surprised to find her daughter and Captain Wentworth together.

      Lydia’s spirits had undergone such vexation that she ran into her mother’s arms and immediately began to cry. This must be explained! And as much as Wentworth wished to give explanations, the bustle and noise had drawn other members of the household to the entrance and he felt all the propriety of speaking with the mother or father alone. Yet Lydia must speak and no sooner had he begun with, “If we may remove to the library-” she burst forth in effusions of her despair.

      “Mamma, I found Wickham quite by mistake when Kitty was visiting Maria Lucas and he was within a moment of proposing to me; I am his favourite you know, and then they came!” she paused for a moment to draw breath, “And put an end to everything! And now Wickham is gone and it will all be over forever and it is his fault!”

      Wentworth knew that this charge must be answered but now that most of the family and servants had assembled, excepting for the father, he felt all the impropriety of the actual events being known beyond the family circle, as they certainly would be if he was forced to speak.

      “Do you not think, madam, that we should find your husband?” he finally said. He saw Elizabeth mount the stairs and had every intention of remaining silent until Mr. Bennet was fetched.

      “Wickham said he loved me, well not is as many words, but he was on the point of making a declaration before he ruined it.”

      “What have you done?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.

      “What you shall thank me for later,” said he.

      “Thank you!” Lydia cried. But suddenly Mr. Collins stepped forth to speak and she must be silent.

      “Am I to understand,” he began in grave solemnity, “That my cousin, who left not half an hour ago in the company of her sister, was alone with a gentleman and during this time, was come upon by Captain Wentworth, whom I gather to be a particular friend of the family, and he saw fit to remove Miss Lydia from this assignation, which I must believe to be of an inmate nature, in order to preserve her virtue?”

      As this was an accurate representation of what had passed, Wentworth only bowed. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth had appeared and stopped at the bottom of the steps. Mr. Collins turned to face them.

      “I feel myself called upon, sir, by our present and future relationship and my situation in life as a clergyman, to express my gravest concern in this unfortunate circumstance. I would like to believe that your daughter’s disposition must be naturally bad or she could not be guilty of such an act at so early an age. However, I have also had time to observe a fault degree of indulgence on your part which I must also think has contributed to this act of folly. I am certain that you will feel all the necessity of throwing off such an unworthy child from your affection forever and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous behaviour?”

      Mr. Bennet, with tolerable composure, replied, “That is your notion of Christian mercy? Pray tell, shall I cast the offending person out now or would it be more just to allow one to pack a trunk?”

      “Whichever you would think best,” Mr. Collins replied seriously.

      “You may then, Mr. Collins, depart at your leisure. I shall render you the kindness of withdrawing my consent so that you may not be connected to a family whose members you must hold in such righteous contempt. Allow me only to send with you my warmest hopes that your parishioners shall likewise understand the truth of your character.”

      Mr. Collins had changed colour and was silent; Mary blanched; and Mr. Bennet, after ordering his youngest daughter to her room and requesting Wentworth’s presence in his study, began again to climb the stairs. Mrs. Bennet began to wonder aloud what could be done about the wedding clothes already ordered. Wentworth could not go without taking one look at Elizabeth and he saw an expression marked with so much gratitude to make him confident that he had been fully restored to her esteem.

Somersetshire

      Anne had never in her life felt a mix of such acute pain and joyful pleasure. Everything in his manner announced that he loved her, of this she was now almost certain. His sister had known her name! But more certain, and most painful, most terrible and most cruel was the conviction that they were unlikely to ever meet again. She must consider him divided from her forever. She had no hope that her father would listen to reason, less hope in her sister, and only the faintest expectation that even Lady Russell could be convinced. It was all misery of the acutest kind and she could not imagine a possible respite.

      That week must bring more exertion on her part and more for her to be sorry for. The Bingleys and Musgroves arrived in Bath, on purpose to purchase Henrietta and Louisa’s wedding clothes and to enjoy the winter season. Each had left cards at Camden Place. This caused a good deal of discussion and distress for Sir Walter and Elizabeth. Mr. Bingley had rights, he was their tenant and would soon be connected to Mary, but his friendship with Mr. Darcy was detestable to them. Had not their cousin just related to them more particulars about the case? How could Sir Walter visit in friendship a man who associated with such a person?

      The Musgroves had stronger claims and claims which could not be ignored, whatever evil there might currently be in their connections. In the course of the morning, Mary and her husband came to call and were admitted. Elizabeth invited them all for cards that evening. Mr. Bingley was mentioned and once it was discovered that he was in his own quarters and there was no danger of him bringing his friend, an invitation was cordially extended.

      Anne went with Mary to visit the Musgroves and saw them busy and happy, everything that her own family was not. Louisa and Henrietta were all excitement, Mrs. Musgrove was imbibing all of their pleasure, and even Mary was in spirits, if only because she had been welcomed to accompany them all on such a diverting excursion.

      Mr. Bingley and his younger sister were present and Miss Bingley seemed far more pleasant than before. She went so far as to address Anne with great civility and then added, “We have been anxious to follow Mr. Darcy into town, I had a great inclination to see his sister again.”

      “I am not surprised; she is a very sweet girl,” agreed Anne. This caused Miss Bingley a small start and she did not know how to reply. Mr. Bingley then addressed himself to Anne.

      “I thought you may wish to know, the dreadful business between my friend and your cousin, we have good reason to believe it shall be resolved quite soon.”

      Anne nodded, “Let us hope that justice shall prevail; I have never heard a clearer case. Are we not all called upon to help the widow and fatherless?”

      This was an answer that brought cheer to the friend and disappointment to the sister. Each of the Bingleys knew at once what was meant and while he smiled and said, “I hope the outcome shall spread general joy,” he sister only looked her less favourable feelings.

      That evening, when everyone was together at the house in Camden Place, Anne feared that she would again be approached by Mr. Elliot and be made to endure his gallantries. Fortunately, she was able to join a table with Mr. Bingley, Louisa, and the Hursts for a round game. Everyone was pleasant and the talking was so lively as to considerably slow the progress of the cards. Mr. Elliot was seated with her sister Elizabeth, Mrs. Clay, and Miss Bingley, a table which Anne would not have joined for a kingdom.

      At the end of the evening, plans must be made for the next day and Anne came to understand that Sir Walter and Elizabeth were so pleased by the manner of Mr. Bingley and his sisters that they wished to gather them all again. Mr. Elliot joined them in the earnest request and everyone seemed perfectly happy to indulge in this invitation.

      When Anne was applied to, however, she must give her apologies, she had arranged to spend the evening with an old schoolfellow and could not put it off. Sir Walter and Elizabeth were not much interested in anything relative to Anne; but still there were questions enough asked, to make it understood what this old schoolfellow was; and Elizabeth was disdainful, and Sir Walter severe.

      “Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

      Anne replied, “She is not one-and-thirty, but I cannot put it off. It is an intimacy which has already brought such good to me.” Anne paused and looked to her cousin, she saw his colour change and knew at once that he was able to discern which Mrs. Smith, out of the many to be met, was the one whom Anne felt obligated to visit. This was a small comfort and Anne hoped that his knowledge would put an end to his interest in her.

      Sir Walter might have said more, might have pressed his daughter most warmly to put off such a trifling acquaintance for a more pressing concern, but Mr. Bingley began to speak, without being direct, about the great merits of charity and friendship. He was not opposed and soon everyone was agreed that they could do perfectly well without Anne, though with greatly differing motives among the party. It was settled and Anne was left to do what she really believed she ought.

      The next day Lady Russell, whom Anne had not confided in as she still waiting for greater support from the papers, deposited her friend at Westgate buildings. Mrs. Smith was glad to see her and glad to answer every question that Anne could put to her that had not yet been elucidated to her satisfaction. They spoke long of Mr. Elliot and longer still of Mr. Darcy. It was a perverse pleasure that Anne could not help but indulging in. She must hear more of a man who loved her but each example of his good character and friendship was a mix of bitter sweetness that she partook greedily knowing full well that it would only enhance her later regret.

      She left punctually, preparing herself to walk home and join an evening of gaiety which she knew must only oppress her spirits. As she left the building, she saw Mr. Darcy.

      “I came on purpose to meet you,” said he, “will you do me the honour of reading that letter?”

      She instinctively took it. He made a slight bow and walked quickly away, in the opposite direction of where Anne must go. She wanted to read it immediately but knew it could not be. With the letter clutched in her hand she walked home. She was greeted and expected to join the others, but it could not be borne and with a real excuse of indisposition, for she was scarcely able to speak, she was suffered at last to go to her room.

Chapter 15

Hertfordshire

      The conference with Mr. Bennet was short and conclusive. Lydia must be protected, Wickham must be exposed, and the friendship with Mrs. Forster which had allowed the clandestine encounter could no longer be indulged. Mr. Bennet had idly warned his daughters away from Wickham on Elizabeth’s recommendation but he had not wholly endeavoured to enforce his will. Now he was resolute; this warning would be heeded.

      Wentworth had much to depose and his information, in the hands of the head of the first family in the area, was sure to be noticed by the general population of Meryton. Mr. Bennet set out to make Wickham’s character more generally known and Wentworth returned downstairs. Jane and Benwick were attempting to console a weeping Mary. She had been blinded by ambition and flattery, by the idea of becoming the mistress of Longbourn hereafter, and her sorrow at Mr. Collin’s departure was real. It would be a long effort to talk her into a more rational state.

      Kitty was sitting very quietly at work, hoping that her part in the affair would not be remembered. Mrs. Bennet was upstairs in her dressing room, attended by Hill, and every few minutes bursts of her agitation could be heard but not understood from the drawing room. Wentworth could not see Elizabeth, but he did not despair. He knew her too well and he followed his experience out of the house and into the little copse, where she was sitting with a book. She closed it and smiled at him.

      “If my father has not done so already, allow me to thank you on behalf of my family. Were they in the proper state to know what was owed to you, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”

      “Do not feel that you owe any particular thanks to me, it is what I would have done for any woman so circumstanced. Removing your sister from danger was my object. Any other motives did not enter my head.”

      Elizabeth’s bright smile was extinguished for a moment, before she recollected herself and said, “My sister may never understand how great an evil she has escaped.”

      Wentworth sat beside her and took her hand, “You related my warning to your father.”

      “Yes, how could I have done otherwise? Though in the end it only served to speed Lydia’s path towards that wretched man!”

      “I had thought-” he paused, “but it is not material. I had only one objective when I set out today and that was to see you and to tell you, that blind and weak as I have been, that you have conquered my heart. Tell me that you will accept my hand”

      Elizabeth in a softened voice replied, “Do not ask me out of honour or obligation; I was imprudent to express expectations.”

      “No, no, though I would consider myself bound to you by honour, it is affection that makes me speak. Do not think that my feelings are not strong because they have been measured. I only feared I would not survive the wound if you could not return my regard, a heart already injured once-”

      Elizabeth’s lips formed into an oh, “You said it was not your friend that you spoke of, when we discussed second attachments.”

      “I should have been more generous to Benwick; his hopes were crushed by fate, mine by a woman who allowed herself to be persuaded against me. I cannot understand why I allowed her power over me to last this long. I know not even where she is- I can only imagine she is happily married by now,” he paused, and then said in a more urgent manner, “all your theoretical musings shall be put to the proof, can you truly accept a soul once pierced and nearly destroyed?”

      “If something is difficult to obtain, does that not make it all the more valuable?” said she, “What better proof can there be that your attachment shall be more lasting than any other?”

      With this encouragement, Wentworth was able to speak, with much less than his usual fluency, of all her merits and his expectations of happiness and she could reply exactly as she ought. For a lady always says what she should in these situations. When Wentworth began to wonder if he should return to her father, however, it was not to be suffered. He must wait for tomorrow.

      “There is too much confusion within, allow a day or two and everyone will have recovered their spirits. Then there shall be no difficulty. What a relief it shall be for my mother; the clothes she has ordered for Mary shall not go to waste.”

      “Do you think your mother will be very angry with me? I have deprived your sister of a suitor.”

      “It was not your actions which caused the loss. Besides, you must allow me to judge your merit as ten times that of Mr. Collins. If anything, you have saved my sister from a selfish and imprudent match. I do not know how they might have been reasonably happy together. For myself, to have him as a brother would have been a constant mortification.”

      “Not everyone can share your good taste.”

      “Nor can they share in my good luck! I am already decided that we shall be perfectly happy together.”

      “Am I permitted to have any opinion in the matter?”

      “No,” she said with a smile, “I believe it is quite settled between us already.”

Somersetshire

      Anne opened the letter, which must contain all the world could do for her. There was a single page covered by a neat close hand. Her eyes devoured the following words:

      “I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach; I can bear no longer an absolute separation. When I left Kellynch in November I had every intention of a rapid return. Georgiana was prepared to come and meet the woman who I had hoped to be hereafter her sister. I did not fully comprehend the duty that I would be called upon to perform or recognise its heavy price. I had not been long with Mrs. Smith before my path was clear, I could not do less than was required.

      “To Mr. Elliot I applied first, with some hope that he would respond to my application where he had not to the widow, but he remained resolute and forced my hand. When I returned to Kellynch, I knew that I had already set in motion a separation that would cause great suffering to myself; you must forgive me for hoping that your feelings were less acute. When I visited you at Lady Russell’s home, your change in manner told me everything that I had feared. I thought you must already abhor a man who had taken such an action against your own family.

      “By my conscience, I could never have acted differently than I have. My friendship, my principles, and my honour were all engaged. Whatever other feelings might have worked against me could not be considered in the face of such vile conduct. I have sanguine expectations that in about one weeks’ time, justice will make my conduct blameless before the world. If any information can change the minds of those prejudiced against me, however, I am almost without hope.

      “I know your cousin; I know that he is hollow and black. He has no morality and no proper emotion; he thinks only of his own advantage and cares not for those he harms. I was fortunate enough to discover his character long ago but his powers of persuasion were such that I could not save my friend Smith from his influence. It is a minor act of reparation that I may now be of service to his widow.

      “To know that you are not deceived by your cousin infinitely supports my spirits, I shall press on as I must. Knowing your character, I do not feel that you could endure to be divided forever from those you love. Therefore, I have no right to speak; no ability to ask for what cannot be given, but I must tell you that my heart is entirely your own.

      “I shall persist uncertain of my fate, but if there is a material change in the sentiments of your family; if the maliciousness that divides us may ever be overcome; either by my efforts or your own, a word or a look will be enough. My affections and wishes will remain steadfast and unchanged.

      “May God help us,

      “-Fitzwilliam Darcy”

      Anne, knowing that a letter from a gentleman was sure to contain a declaration, had still not dared form expectations on the contents. But such as it was, it may well be imagined how eagerly she read and what strong emotions were excited. As soon as she had done, and scarcely had she truly comprehended a word, she must read it again. She could not stop until every phrase was so well known to her that she might have recited it by heart.

      If one week was to decide her fate, it must be endured. She would wait and hope. Lady Russell she thought might be worked on first, though she remained uncertain of her family. Mr. Elliot’s influence must be removed if she had any chance of success. He could not stay forever. Anne knew that he disliked her father and sister; she knew his presence was only for interest. Once that inducement was gone, she could hope for him to throw them off again.

      The week passed fairly quickly. Anne exerted herself when obliged to be in a party at home and spent as much time as possible with the Musgroves. There she was safe from her cousin, whose very visage brought back all the feelings she sought to control. Her father and sister thought nothing of Mr. Elliot’s plight, for as it happened, the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honourable Miss Carteret were announced in the paper as coming to Bath. Sir Walter was determined to repair the relationship, embarrassingly determined. He and Elizabeth spent a good deal of time considering what might be done before sending a letter of apology.

      Mr. Elliot came to Camden Place on the second last night of the week to announce that he had urgent business in London related to his case and would be gone for several days. His leaving was lamented by all except Anne. The Musgroves were not present and therefore Anne was not surprised when the next day Mary said, “Oh! There is our cousin with Miss Bingley.”

      Anne could not see out the window, but she replied, “No, he is gone to London, you must be mistaken.”

      Mary scowled, “I know our cousin, even if I have not been in his company as much as you! That is him, it is as clear as day. Do you think I should go down and invite him up?”

      Anne moved to the window; it was indeed Mr. Elliot in some earnest conversation with Miss Bingley. It was very strange, for she did not think they were much acquainted, and why should he still be in Bath? “Yes, it is our Mr. Elliot,” Anne agreed, “he must have been delayed.”

      “I should go down,” said Mary, but at that moment the two parted and walked off in opposite directions. “You know, I do not think Mr. Bingley much likes our cousin, but he is a poor judge. You know that I think Louisa has done very well for herself, far better than Henrietta. If only Bingley would purchase and have a settled home forever. Kellynch you know will not always be open to him.”

      Anne smiled. Knowing what she did of her father’s continued expenses and Elizabeth’s housekeeping, she wondered if Kellynch would be restored to its rightful owners while they remained alive to enjoy it. From what Anne understood of Bingley’s disposition, he might well continue to rent it forever and leave it to the next generation to purchase.

      Strange as seeing Mr. Elliot when he claimed to be elsewhere had been, Anne’s mind was too full to dwell on it for long and by that evening it was entirely forgotten. The next day would decide Anne’s fate forever and she could think on little else.

Chapter 16

Hertfordshire

      Exactly one week after Benwick had received his letter from Captain Harville, a letter addressed to Wentworth arrived in the morning post. It was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Wentworth was not surprised at it, as Harville had written the direction remarkably ill. He thought it best to read it away from the others and took it with him out of doors.

      The contents, written as poorly as the address, were as follows:

      “Poor Fanny! She would not have forgotten him so soon! She doted on him. Only June! Only June & he did not learn of it until August. How can he have recovered already- I am tongue-tied, when I think of Benwick I cannot speak. I only hope he will not recognize his letter is in my wife’s hand. I could not bear to write him a civil word.

      “I wish Miss Bennet more than the weak & fickle heart that was given to my sister. Fanny- it would not have been in her nature to forget him- how can it be in the nature of a man! When I last left my family, without a sure hope of return, what I felt then, but I cannot speak. There are feelings that cannot be expressed in words. How can he forget her so soon?

      “I know not what I write. Do you remember what he was in August, when you went to tell him in my stead? How can I thank you for that service? You staid a week; you told me of his mourning. Can I trust any of it now? If you must come, I will receive him, but how shall I speak?

      “Tell me not that she is forgotten forever”

      What a change a week can bring! If this letter had arrived when it ought, Wentworth might have agreed with its sentiments. He could recall how warmly he had expressed these same opinions not so long ago when Benwick announced he would propose to Jane. Yet now he was of a mind to rejoice in a heart unbound by the past. He could no longer judge Benwick so harshly; though he may still think the recovery of his friend too swift. Perhaps his disposition was only more constant or Benwick’s love had not been as strong. He would however, write to Harville and console him as he could.

      While he was musing on the nature of attachment, Elizabeth and Jane arrived with a letter of their own to share, concerning an attachment of a very different nature. To the general amusement of the Netherfield residents, Mr. Collins had written to beg for Mr. Bennet and Mary’s forgiveness:

      My dear Sir,

      I fear that at the time of our last parting I made some hasty comments in the heat of the moment, which I have come to regret. The indiscretion of your youngest daughter is unfortunate indeed, but I understand she shall come to no lasting harm. That it may be a lesson to her and restrain the licentiousness of her behaviour is my dearest hope. I suggest therefore, and with kindest condescension Lady Catherine and her daughter join me in my application, that my cousin Lydia be invited to join us in Kent and by the improvement of society improve her disposition and deportment. Thusly, the family shall not need to endure more sorrow or probable disgrace.

      If dearest cousin Mary could be prevailed upon to reconsider my offer, with your approval, I will return at the previously appointed time for the joyous event. I sincerely believe that we have been designed for each other. Lady Catherine is already fully convinced that I have made a very judicious choice. I shall not run away with my feelings, as I believe they are well known to Miss Mary already, but allow me to say that I am most sincerely attached to her and I hope that she returns my warm regard.

      I anxiously await your reply, all my hopes of marital felicity are in your hands,

                      Sincerely & etc., William Collins

      “Is that not diverting?” Elizabeth asked as she finished reading it, “I can only imagine that his great lady is very anxious to have company beyond what he can provide.”

      Elizabeth was largely correct in her supposition. Mr. Collins had indeed gone to Lady Catherine, meaning to tell her about his disappointment. However, before he could speak, she began to expound on her own expectation for the match in such warm language that he felt it was impossible to set the business aside. He judged it better not to tell her at all about Miss Lydia’s injudiciousness and instead assured Lady Catherine that by the time she returned from Bath, he would be married. Now he was very anxious to see everything settled.

      “I cannot fault her for that! To speak with him for more than ten minutes together is more than I can bear.”

      “This is no man of feeling,” Benwick observed, “his regard for your sister must be imaginary.”

      “No, this is not the speech of a man in love,” said Jane with a knowing smile.

      “I can assure you; our chaplains are made more rational by exertion,” Admiral Croft observed, “send this Mr. Collins out on a cruise and I assure you he shall return something better. A little encounter with mortality will set him up forever.”

      “Do not send that plague upon our fine men!” Mrs. Croft protested, “better to have him go into the army, you know he cannot do as much harm there.”

      “What does your sister say?”

      “She is more than willing to forgive him; she says it will be an act of Christian charity. At least it is a choice she makes with her eyes wide open and a full knowledge of his character.”

      “You are fortunate to be unlikely to be stationed near Kent,” Mrs. Croft observed.

      “Perish the thought!” cried Elizabeth, “Then we may be obliged to visit them and meet this formidable lady ourselves.”

      “If it is at all within my power, let us not be within a hundred miles. You know what they think of the navy,” said Wentworth.

      “If we have any luck,” said Elizabeth, and in the style of the Admiral, “we shall have another war and be far from here.”

      Admiral Croft laughed, “Another war indeed! And these men will be all the better for it.”

      Mrs. Croft gave Elizabeth a knowing look, for only the dread of a future war could dim her happiness. Glory as they might in becoming sailor’s wives, Elizabeth and Jane must pay the tax of quick alarm of joining a profession so involved in national importance. Each of them, however, felt fully equal to it and could only imagine their current attachment to be strengthened by any approaching separations or hardships.

Somersetshire

      Anne was waiting for the arrival of the paper and hoping that the information contained within would start her application to Lady Russell’s reason. However, at a very early hour, before even the arrival of the post, a knock was heard at the door and before the butler could announce them, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were in the breakfast parlour.

      Before Sir Walter could protest and even before Elizabeth could do much more than look her indignation, Bingley cried out, “My sister has thrown herself into the power of Mr. Elliot! They have eloped!”

      “It cannot be! Your sister?” Sir Walter exclaimed. Elizabeth stood and nearly ran from the room. Mrs. Clay started, coloured, tried to speak, and then followed Elizabeth.

      “Why would he do such a thing?” Anne asked in amazement.

      Mr. Bingley replied, “He has been ordered to pay nearly twenty thousand to Mrs. Smith. A sum, we believe, that he did not wish to part with. My sister’s fortune is the same.”

      “I cannot believe it,” Sir Walter cried, Mr. Bingley approached him with what must have been a letter from Miss Bingley. Anne took the moment to approach Darcy, who looked very grave.

      “Was she not aware of his character?” she said softly.

      “She was only aware of the general details of the case, I never revealed to anyone the truth of his disposition. If I had suspected Caroline to be in danger, but I should have made the whole known. It was my duty to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him. I thought it beneath my honour to engage in what I would have classed as idle gossip.”

      “There is no hope she might be recovered?”

      “None, they are much too far ahead of us. They must have absconded last night soon after dinner, she claimed a headache and it was not until a quarter of an hour ago that she was missed.”

      “Why then have you come here?”

      “Charles hopes that they might be discovered and stopped in London; he asks your father the direction to Mr. Elliot’s house in town. He means to send an express to the Hursts so they might try for it. But we both know it will be too late. Mr. Elliot shall undoubtably travel post and may avoid the London road for the sake of concealment.”

      Anne was silent, for while she had never liked Miss Bingley, she could not imagine her to be happy with such a man. Finally, she said, “I saw them together yesterday, but I did not dwell on it further.”

      “How could you have suspected anything? This is entirely my fault.” Then with a serious look he continued, “He was cruel to his first wife, but from general report, they were very ill-suited. I can only hope that Caroline will do better. She at least has her brother to protect her.”

      “I would not have wished such a fate on anyone,” Anne replied.

      “Nor I, certainly not the sister of my friend,” said he.

      There was nothing more to say between them, Anne was beginning to realize, with some embarrassment in the realization, that this terrible news would bring good to her. She was ashamed to think of it, but with Mr. Elliot’s character so wholly laid bare, she could not think her father would disdain the introduction of Mr. Darcy. But it would not happen that day, once the direction was obtained the gentlemen took their leave.

      Elizabeth soon returned and it feel to Anne to reveal as much of Mr. Elliot’s character to her family as she dared. His past indiscretions, his motives, and the abhorrence that he felt for each member of the family, save Anne, was unfolded to them all. Lady Russell joined them as soon as she was mistress of the distress and partook in the general shock felt from Anne’s information. They had all liked Mr. Elliot, they had all of them fallen under his charm.

      Anne withheld only one portion of the whole in her telling, for now she was of a mind not to despise the connection and its possible effects: she said nothing of Mrs. Clay. As much as she disliked the prospect before, she could not help but feel that it would be something of justice if Mr. Elliot was to lose the inheritance he had strived for with such duplicitousness. Anne was fully purposed to be an inmate of her father’s house not many months longer. She would let everything fall as it may.

      From this hour, things progressed with far more rapidity than Anne could have imagined. Sir Walter and Elizabeth, enchanted by high connections, were quick to remember the great value of Mr. Darcy’s relations. Forgiveness of his actions against Mr. Elliot, who had proved himself an unworthy member of the family, was readily given. Mr. Darcy was sought out and invited for an evening of cards. His introduction was more than acceptable now to the family and Anne need only endure the manners of her father and sister, so clearly insincere and interested. 

      Lady Catherine ought to have been happy, because her presence in Bath was of infinite use and she loved to be of use. She was staying in Laura Place, not far from Lady Dalrymple. The Dowager Viscountess wished to know Lady Catherine; now Sir Walter could be of use to her. With no objections on either side, an appointment was made for the following week to all meet at Lady Catherine’s lodgings and general joy was spread among the collection of people who thought very well of themselves.

Chapter 17

Hertfordshire

     The least anticipated of the marriages by almost every member of the Bennet family was the first to occur, Mr. Collins and Mary, with a despondent, sullen Lydia in tow, were wed and departed from the front door of the church to Kent. The new Mrs. Collins would have a few weeks to prepare for the formidable arrival of Lady Catherine and Miss Lydia would have to endure a society reduced from even what Meryton could offer and readings every night from one or another book on the proper conduct of young women, before escaping into the fantasies of her smuggled novels

      Suddenly, there was a need for the other two weddings to happen without delay. Napoleon escaped from Elba and the likelihood of war made everyone anxious to settle with great expediency. The variations in cause and magnitude of this anxiety were numerous, some more righteous than others, but whether it was from passionate love, avoidance of a long engagement, or securing large fortunes into the hands of her daughters on the chance that they may become rich widows, the result was the same. Jane and Elizabeth were married and Mrs. Bennet disposed of her two most deserving daughters.

      Both couples were welcomed to stay at Netherfield and both did, but there was not time for the proximity to home to try any tempers or for the newlyweds to annoy the sensibilities of Admiral and Mrs. Croft. Expected orders sent the Crofts to London and Captains Wentworth and Benwick with their wives to sea. It was a change felt strongly by those left behind.

      Mr. Bennet was the first to regret the loss of his two older daughter’s society and he felt the deprivation so strongly that he exerted himself far enough to write and, in a moment of acute loneliness, to actually send a cordial reply to Mr. Collins’ latest letter. Mrs. Bennet soon fancied herself ill and took comfort in the stability of Mary’s settlement rather than fully consider that she had gleefully married two daughters into a dangerous profession without a single thought to what that would entail or how those attractive fortunes had been acquired.

      Kitty was the only daughter remaining at home. Removed from Lydia’s influence and living in constant fear of a banishment to Kent, she became less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. She became, on occasion, an acceptable companion to her father and a necessary attendant to her mother. This more proper attention and management, which Mr. Bennet felt himself obliged to give, would in time allow Kitty to make as advantageous a match as any of her sisters had done.

      Lady Catherine and her daughter arrived home from a fairly distressing stay in Bath, ready to be consoled and entertained. The following excepts from the evening are given as a specimen of the sort of society that these five people are to have going forward:

      “I know that my nephew was most warmly attached to my daughter, that he could engage himself to another in such a reckless manner is beyond all comprehension! He must be sadly taken in,” mourned her ladyship.

      “While I would never presume to think a member of your esteemed family to be out of their wits, I cannot think of any other reason that one would cast away of the first jewel in the kingdom,” said Mr. Collins.

      “One must reflect that familial responsibility, set forth in the commandments, should be of utmost importance. Is it not placed above mortal sins? It is then a most grievous error to disregard the wishes of one’s nearest family and, if done, this must bring severe reproof,” said Mrs. Collins, having prepared some thoughts before the meal.

      Lydia yawned through these two statements and then added her own analysis, “He must have liked this Miss Elliot better, that is plain. I do not think I could make head or tails of it unless I saw the two of them together. I have some notions about what a man likes, to be sure! Was Miss Elliot much taller than your daughter?”

      “Taller? No, she is rather small,” Lady Catherine answered, in a grave tone.

      Undeterred, Lydia continued, “I think it very likely to be a case of some difference or another in the appearance of the lady. You know, a very smart bonnet or some fine muslin could be such a great help in the prospects of your daughter. But, however,” Lydia lowered her voice, though not below hearing, and addressed her brother-in-law, “pray, what is her age?”

      Lady Catherine started, “Upon my word! She is seven and twenty, but what concern is that of yours?”

      “Seven and twenty! Well she is quite an old maid!” Lydia declared.

      “You must be far too young to be in company!” Lady Catherine cried, “What is your age?”

      “Not sixteen, but I am sure to marry before twenty. Lord! how ashamed I would be if I was not married by seven and twenty. Why one is nearly at death’s door! And with Rosings to offer-” she stopped and looked directly at Miss de Bourgh in stark appraisal.

      “Dear cousin Lydia,” Mr. Collins began, “Miss de Bourgh is not a woman of your station, you should not presume to understand these matters.”

      “I am a gentleman’s daughter,” Lydia scoffed.

      “My daughter is the granddaughter and niece of an earl on my side and my late husband’s family is both ancient and wealthy, though untitled. One cannot begin to compare the pedigree of the de Bourgh family to that of yours.”

      “No! Never! Indeed!” Mr. Collins cried.

      “Does your ladyship wish me to play?” Mary asked eagerly, for she had no superior plan to silence her sister.

      Lady Catherine seemed not to hear, “And do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?”

      “No, not at all.”

      “Do you draw?”

      “No, but I trim all my own hats. A far more useful skill.”

      “Your education seems entirely unregulated, who was your governess?”

      “We never had one.”

      “No governess?”

      “Not at all, and good luck too! Sounds dreadful unpleasant. We had whatever masters we wished for, I did learn French, but only to read novels, and dancing of course. Why does your daughter not attend the assembly balls? That is one of the best ways to get husbands, or at least that is what Harriet told me.”

      “My daughter,” Lady Catherine said acidly, “would never set foot in a public ballroom. If we were to attend a ball; only a private one would do. You know if she had ever had the health to learn, I am sure Anne would have been a magnificent dancer.”

      “There is no doubt, your daughter is extraordinarily graceful,” Mr. Collins said quickly.

      “You cannot fall in love without dancing,” Lydia muttered.

      “If you wish to improve yourself, I suggest that you learn to comport yourself as your sister does,” said her ladyship, “now I shall hear music, Mrs. Collins.”

      Mary went with alacrity to the piano and Lady Catherine listened for a few moments before returning to Lydia, “Your sister has a pianoforte at the parsonage I understand, it is not to late for you to apply yourself and acquire some real accomplishments.”

      “I do not see that I should need them.”

      “How do you expect to marry well? And without a single skill you can hardly expect to be hired as a governess.”

      “A governess! La! What a joke that is. I should never wish to be a governess.”

      “A girl of inferior birth and no fortune cannot hope for much else. You would not wish to live as a perpetual dependant.”

      “Oh no, never. I shall marry and marry as well as I choose. I cannot expect you to understand, but a lively temper and a pretty face will do just as well as a fortune.”

      “Upon my word! You state your opinions rather decidedly for one so young and incorrect.”

      Lydia smiled, “Well I do have rather a lot to say. Shall I tell you my opinion of the décor?”

      Lady Catherine was about to accept when Mr. Collins, in high distress, cut off his sister and called out, “Mrs. Collins, we must be getting back before it is too dark to walk.”

      “Never mind that,” Lady Catherine waved a hand, “I shall order you a carriage. Play on Mrs. Collins, I would like to speak more with Miss Bennet.”

      Mr. Collins listened in adject fear as his sister-in-law gave extremely frank appraisals of everything in the room and each dish that she had tasted for dinner. Few of her opinions were favourable and they were all expressed with such forthrightness and impertinence that had Mr. Collins quite worried by the end that his esteemed patroness would have her thrown out of Rosings. How would this reflect on his instruction of Lydia and the family he had married into? He was all worry and mortification.

      When Lydia was done, she got up and walked to one of the windows, perhaps to spy something amiss with the shrubbery, and Mr. Collins rushed to the side of Lady Catherine, fully purposed to disparage Lydia and praise Rosings until he was dismissed home, but the conversation started as he had not expected.
      “What an interesting sister you have acquired, Mr. Collins, I am quite taken with her. Never have I observed a person so open and entirely without taste or knowledge. She is almost perfectly ignorant! A very strange case. I would like you to send her here for an hour or two every day, that I may form her into something presentable. You know I am tremendously busy, but it is an undertaking which I feel to be my duty.”

      This proposal must be acceptable to the Collinses, who were quite over their heads when it came to Lydia. Miss Bennet was more than happy to accept, since it would give her something better to do than sit at the parsonage. Lydia also hoped in time that Lady Catherine would have some young men as guests, though she was not sure she could dare wish for an officer…

Somersetshire

      In the week that followed, Anne was able to accomplish something she had once greatly desired: Lady Russell and Darcy were becoming acquainted. With great complacency she watched them together and knew that each thought highly of the other. Lady Russell’s cultivated mind was a good match to Darcy’s quick, informed one and the two times that Anne was able to contrive them meeting together, she became almost unnecessary to the conversation. To someone who felt less, this might be an annoyance, but a person secure in love who only wishes for her friends to share in her feelings it is a joy.

      Lady Russell was the first and only one to perceive, from his looks and contrivances to be near Anne in company, that there might be something more than just friendship between them. The rest of the family was unaware, from either their disregard of Anne in general or from their overwrought minds that were full of great ladies, deceitful cousins, and wedding preparations. Elizabeth was too recently disappointed in love to try for anyone else and thought too highly of her own claims to think even of the nephew of an earl.

      Freed from the disapprobation of her family, Anne spent the week with as much pleasure as could be imagined. Several times she was able to meet with Darcy and walk the streets of Bath in as private a conference as she could reasonably contrive. Everything was said between them that the letter could not perfectly convey. They waited only for the work of time: for her family to forget their anger. It was decided that it would be best to wait until her family had met Lady Catherine as it was something sure to put them in a sanguine, accepting mood.

      Darcy had additional tasks, for while he was his own master, he knew there were tempers to soften in his own family as well. A long-standing wish, often expressed by his aunt, that he would marry her daughter and join their fortunes, must finally be overthrown. Darcy knew that there was little to object to in Anne Elliot, she had everything but fortune. Yet, he could not see his aunt welcoming any Anne save one to be his future wife.

      The day came and Sir Walter, Elizabeth, Mary (who would not be excluded), her husband Charles, and Anne were all at Laura Place. Lady Catherine met them in the drawing room with her daughter Anne, a small, sickly woman, and her companion Mrs. Jenkinson. Sir Walter would later tell Anne that he did not find Lady Catherine very handsome; he was disappointed by how much she looked her age. (That this age was very near to his own increased his displeasure in her appearance.)

      Civilities were exchanged, but an early question “How long have you been in Bath?” was one that quickly brought embarrassment to the Elliot party.

      “We have been here since Michaelmas,” said Elizabeth.

      “That is more than three months, how very strange. I do not know many who stay more than six weeks. It is unfashionable to stay so very long.”

      “Our cousins, Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret plan to stay for three months as well.”

      “They are from Ireland! Do you not live in Somersetshire? What is your excuse?”

      Anne, forewarned about the lady’s frank style of address, was amused in spite of herself and wondered what her father would say.

      “We are fond of the society,” Elizabeth exclaimed.

      “Why not seek out the better enjoyments in London?”

      “London is better to be sure, but much further and not as conducive to health,” Mary replied.

      “It is good for my daughter Anne’s health, but never for more than six weeks,” said her ladyship.

      “There has been, of late, a need to retrench and living in Bath has exactly suited our needs. It is a very accommodating place. We are sought by everybody,” said Sir Walter finally.

      “No one in the de Bourgh family has ever needed to retrench, there has never been cause! To settle in Bath permanently, I cannot imagine it,” Lady Catherine was quite struck by this circumstance and could not think of anything else. Elizabeth tried to turn the conversation, Sir Walter to flatter, and Mary to speak of herself but all in vain.

      Lady Catherine must know all and dispense the advice she saw fit to give, “How many horses altogether do you keep? – Eight! Far too many – The wealth of footmen! – Quite unnecessary – I would never advise anyone to serve half that much meat. – I am sure the joints are far too large – Not conducive to economy to live in a city such as Bath. – Two drawing rooms? – I would advise against such an expense – Not enough horses for comfort I must say – But three carriages must be had for any ease – Anne’s phaeton could not be parted with – The gardens at Rosings first in the country – Certain Kellynch cannot be so grand – How horrid to think of retrenching! – Certain there are too many windows at Kellynch all-together – One must practice proper economy – Eight horses I think the most proper number to be employed. – What is the cost of your fireplaces?”

      The Elliots must answer and must endure, but it would be worth it all in the end. Lady Catherine saw no difficulty in being introduced to their noble cousins and Elizabeth foresaw all the joy of hosting card parties, for Lady Catherine very much wished to play quadrille, with two great families at once. The Elliots left to bring the good news to Lady Dalrymple with great aplomb, except for Charles and Anne, who had found the entire meeting highly diverting, were content to wait for the others below and to talk over everything out of the earshot of the others.

      When they had gone, Darcy remained and learned what his aunt had thought of them all.

      “Not an objectionable family by any means,” Lady Catherine began, “It is a sad business, this troubling situation, but it is not very uncommon. Many of the first families have been plagued by retrenchments, why Lady Metcalf herself had to dismiss four of her men last autumn because of the expense. Those who must get by on less income make the best of it, I declare. Though we have none of these problems at Rosings. The income is quite equal to our style of living.”

      “It is an acquaintance you might benefit from; they host frequent large parties with everyone of consequence in Bath,” said he.

      “What do I need with large parties? We come here to take the waters, as you know. I have friends enough come down for the season.”

      “If you wish for Anne to marry, there would be ample opportunity to meet men of acceptable rank.”

      Lady Catherine was aghast, “What do you mean?”

      “I am engaged; I have already written to my uncle, though I do not need his permission or yours. I am telling you now so you might make the best of your time here.”

      “Engaged to be married? This cannot be! You are to marry my daughter; it has been the dearest wish of both myself and your honoured mother since you were both in your cradles. Who is the lady?”

      “It may have been the wish of everyone in the world, but since it was not my inclination there has never been a chance that it would come to be. Allow my cousin to mix with the world and she is sure to marry. Rosings is enough inducement, as you well know.”

      “Who is the lady?”

      “Miss Anne Elliot, you just met her.”

      “The daughter of Sir Walter? He is a baronet, to be sure, and of an ancient family. Yet she has no fortune, hardly any beauty, you must be out of your sound mind.”

      “I am informing you as a courtesy, not to request your opinion. It is settled.”

      “Settled? Nothing is settled until the articles are signed. You are throwing yourself away, when you could bring together the fortunes of our families. It cannot be understood!”

      “I shall give you ample opportunity to observe the merits of Miss Elliot, if you are so inclined,” said Darcy, in a serious tone, “but I will not allow you to insult her.”

      “I will speak my mind as I see fit, as I have always done. Your uncle cannot approve the connection, not when you could have aspired much higher. I cannot comprehend it; she has drawn you in somehow. If it is not yet generally known you must be able to honourably break the engagement.”

      “I have no incentive to break the engagement.”

      “Have you no regard for the wishes of your family? For your duty?”

      “It is you, madam, who ought to think of duty. Let your daughter enter society and marry. I have never given you the slightest encouragement in that matter. I had hoped you would realize it was not to be in time. I will marry Anne Elliot, and not you, nor any other member of our family can prevent it.”

      Angry as Lady Catherine must be, there was nothing to be done. The Elliots were people of consequence in the world. They were not beneath her notice. She was furious, but Miss Anne Elliot was not a lady of inferior birth whom she might be able to sway. Lady Catherine still kept her appointment with the Elliots, she would see them and she would judge Miss Elliot for herself. Her assessment, formed over three evenings, was begrudgingly favourable. Anne was intelligent, accomplished, and pretty. Lady Catherine might despise the insult to her daughter, might think her nephew quite taken in, but she had nothing further to say.

Chapter 18

The Atlantic Ocean (Hertfordshire)

      As Elizabeth Wentworth looked across the sea, she felt in her heart that she had been born to an extraordinary fate. To have gone from the unvarying and confined society of Hertfordshire to encountering the better part of the world was more than she had ever aspired to. Every port was a chance to meet new cultures and people, every voyage brought them somewhere new, and even the confinement on board during a long voyage was abundant with employment. She was experienced as a nurse and when someone was not in need, she was busy mending, talking, and learning from the wives of the warrant officers on board.

       Little Eliza was sleeping soundly against her mother’s chest, wrapped in a brightly coloured cloth that had been gifted to them by women Elizabeth had met in Bermuda. She had been instructed in its use while her daughter was yet unborn. Having given birth while actually at sea, to the great consternation of her husband, the wrap had proved an invaluable asset. He had argued for her staying in Antigua for her confinement, there were several ships that might have brought her home, but separation in such a time was unsupportable and he was persuaded to consent to her fairly irrational plan that saw their first child born in the centre of the Atlantic.

       “How have you spent the day?” said Captain Wentworth, coming to admire his daughter.

      “We are learning Dutch.”

      “We?”

      “Admiral Camden’s wife, we met her in Gibraltar- do you recall at the Commissioner’s?” he nodded, “She said that all her children speak whatever they have heard. When she last travelled with an Italian gunner and his wife and children, all of her own children were speaking that tongue before the voyage was over.”

      “If she proves to be half as quick as yourself, I am sure she will learn them all. When she is grown, perhaps she will marry an ambassador.”

      “Do not speak to me of marriage!” Elizabeth protested, “I am certain her grandmother has already begun to worry and plan. I shall only see her happy and educated and leave the rest to whatever her merits will be in time.”

      “That must be enough for any rational man,” Wentworth said, smiling.

      “I would want nothing else for our daughter.” Elizabeth looked back across the sea, there was nothing but water and sky, “I am told we have a favourable wind, when do you think we shall reach Portsmouth?”

      “In three days, if our luck holds.”

      “I have never known yours to fail. I only hope that we shall make it in time to visit with Benwick and Jane, one never knows how long a naval family will remain in place.”

      “Do you not wish to stay ashore, now that we have the little one? We might take a house in Portsmouth.”

      “Oh no, never! Unless the Admiralty expressly forbids it, I would stay with you forever. One day either age or inclination will bring us ashore and I will see as much of my family as I wish. But while you are at sea, I would rather we never be parted. What worries you have now for our health would be ten times as severe, I assure you, if I was to remain in England.”

      It was an argument that had occurred a thousand times already and would undoubtably arise again, but the end result was always the same, he urged safety, she stoutly refused, and both assured that it was a conflict rooted in care, the matter was dropped until the next arrival at port.

      Upon arriving back in England, Mrs. Jane Benwick was found alone. She was expecting a confinement soon and Captain Benwick was given orders to join the West Africa squadron.

      “We judged it too dangerous in my condition,” Jane explained, “The warm climates have not always agreed with me.”

      “I have been fortunate in that regard,” said Elizabeth. Jane appeared both healthy and well, but there was a melancholy that Elizabeth could feel without it being spoke and she knew that Jane must feel the separation as strongly as she would have.

      “It is only for a twelve-month at the most,” Jane said, “then we may have another commission in a place that agrees with me better. If I must make a sacrifice there could be no more worthy cause.”

      Elizabeth was quick to agree, but was concerned for her sister, “Shall no one come to stay with you? I do not like to think of you alone here, and so far from home. Will our mother not come?”

      “I have written, but you know our father hates to travel. I had thought that Lydia might wish to come from Kent, but I am assured that Lady Catherine cannot spare her!”

      “Indeed? I never expected her to remain in Kent so long.”

      “Nor did I, but Mary tells me that Lydia is much improved and so dear to her ladyship that she often stays at Rosings. But do not despair, Mrs. Gregory, James’ sister is staying in Portsmouth for the next six months at least. I will not be without a friend. Everyone may be met with here.”

      Elizabeth could give no assurances to her beloved sister, for she did not know where they might go next, but as long as she was in Portsmouth, they were together for the better part of every day. They walked along the ramparts, visited the dockyard, and kept watch for ships and people that they knew.

      Mr. Bennet was eager to see his daughters and the family arrived only three days after the Wentworths departed. They were bound for South American and had only been ashore a few short weeks. How long it might be until they returned was unknowable or if they would return at all. It was a cost that must be paid with an uncertain return.

      Jane, however, was not of the temper to despair. She wrote to her husband, survived the birth of her child, and took comfort in her activity. There was never an idle hour for the wife of such a husband: there was a house to manage, a child to love, visits to be made, and interest to cultivate. As bitter as the months would be when they were parted, how much sweeter those days when they were united again.

Somersetshire

      Who can doubt what was to follow? When any two people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to carry their point, be they ever so poor or ever so imprudent. But Darcy and Anne, with the advantage of maturity of mind, mutual love, and one handsome estate between them, could not fail to bear down all opposition. The only objection that might have mattered, that of Lady Russell, was no concern at all. She adored Mr. Darcy and thought that his intelligence, wealth, and consequence in the world was exactly what her dear Anne should deserve.

      Elizabeth, who had no love for Anne, only looked cold and unconcerned. Mary was very torn, for while it was credible to have a sister married, she did not like to think that Pemberley was much superior to Uppercross (though she had been assured it was) and being aware of the connections of the Darcy family, was extremely worried that Anne might be considered much better married then herself.

      Sir Walter made no protestation, for once Mr. Elliot was forgotten, it was thought of as a most advantageous match. Mr. Darcy lacked nothing but a title, and if he might become a baronet in time (or at least a knight) than his perfections would be complete. Sir Walter was very struck by Darcy’s personal claims and went so far as to think that by marrying even the daughter of a baronet, Darcy might be giving more honour than he gained. It was with great happiness, therefore, that he prepared his pen for the insertion of the marriage into the volume of honour.

      As for Darcy’s family, Lady Catherine was barely civil but otherwise there was nothing in the way of interference. If there were other objections, they never reached Anne. Georgiana was delighted, for her brother had spoken very highly of Anne Elliot and she could not imagine any defect in her. It did not take long for Anne’s gentle manners to break through Georgiana’s natural shyness and reserve. Anne, who had often envied the sisterly love between Henrietta and Louisa, was no less enchanted by Georgiana and the promise of loving and guiding her.

      As the day of their wedding approached, Anne wonder grew and when walking alone she asked Darcy, “When did you begin to think of me seriously? I cannot think at the beginning that there was anything like encouragement.”

      “No, your manners were entirely modest and disinterested, though there may have been a charm in that.”

      “You love me because I did not seek your attention? I cannot claim any merit there.”

      “I will not say that was the chief attraction, it was your constant attention to the needs of others that drew my attention. The first I heard of Anne Elliot; you were attending to your nephew rather than attend a party of pleasure. Even when we called, you would not hear of leaving your post.”

      “Who would have done less for little Charles?”

      It remained unspoken between them that several people at that very dinner had in fact done much less.

      “You will not persuade me to discount your virtues, which I know have been heretofore too often left undervalued. If your modesty and goodness caught my attention at first, allow my affections to have begun when we talked of autumn.”

      “Shall I confess that I had yet to think anything of the sort?” said Anne.

      “I am sure I cannot judge the true moment when I began, the emotions of the present colour the past. However, it is widely thought that poetry is the food of love, though it may be a hackneyed phrase. Can it be allowed?”

      “There is no shame in falling in love over poetry, though some might think it trite. Shall I confess that my feelings were fully engaged at the ball? There can be nothing so stale and commonplace than love brought on by gratitude and dancing.”

      “However commonplace the cause, I only regret now that I had not spoken sooner.”

      “No, I cannot regret it. With everything that would have happened, we must have gone on in secret. Otherwise my family certainly would have pressed me to break the engagement. Allow me to prefer a brief separation to an absolute one.”

      “Why absolute? There is no reason to suppose that their objections would have lasted forever.”

      “Can anyone’s love persevere through rejection? I do not think that a man would submit themselves to ask for any woman’s hand twice.”
      “I would not have given you up so easily; anyone who knew you could not.”

      Anne shook her head, “There was one who did.”

      It was a revelation but not a surprise, for it fit into his understanding of Anne’s character and his calculation of her worth. The reflection cost Anne less than she had imagined, whatever hold had remained over her heart was long overthrown. She may always feel some regret for breaking her engagement so many years ago, but she had finally recovered. What time could not do love had accomplished.

      “Knowing that you loved me, I could never have been persuaded to leave you,” said he.

      She blushed and lowered her eyes, “Nor I.”

      A few days later the Darcys left Bath. They would return each year for six weeks in the winter season, to endure Lady Catherine’s manners, Sir Walter’s silliness, and Elizabeth’s indifference. The Elliot family remained as they were, too expensive to reclaim Kellynch and too proud of their style of living to do anything otherwise. Mrs. Clay remained for some time, but unable to flatter her way into the ultimate prize, she eventually settled for a more reasonable husband.

      Bingley and Louisa remained at Kellynch and the comfortable intimacy between the families made them both unwilling to stir from the country. With the Musgroves and the Bingleys, Darcy and Anne found more true enjoyment than with her relations. She felt that the estate had fallen into better hands than those who might by providence have a higher claim upon it.

      Mr. Elliot and Caroline settled in London and while Darcy could never receive him at their house in town, for the sake of Bingley, Mrs. Elliot was invited. She was soon found to be in no danger; by all accounts the two were very much in love. They were both frequently visiting Kellynch and were welcome company, for while no one forgot Mr. Elliot’s treatment of Mrs. Smith, he was so friendly and obliging that everyone was apt to overlook it.

      Mrs. Smith, restored to comfort and health, could not remain long in Bath when her friends had departed from it. She took a house near Pemberley and was always on most intimate terms with the principal inhabitants. Both Darcy and Anne really loved her, and were sensible that by revealing the true character of Mr. Elliot, she had been the means of bringing them together.

Epilogue

      Anne looked across the crowded room, trying to find her husband. Her condition made it particularly desirable to be seated quickly and the concert was to begin soon. Straining to see, she was embarrassed as she knocked into someone.

      “Pardon me,” she breathed and then froze.

      “Anne?” said he.

      “Fredrick?”

      For a moment Anne forgot the crowd and her fatigue, it was him! She began to count the years between now and their last meeting before he spoke, “Captain Wentworth now.” She would not have known; it had been years since she had read the navy lists.

      “Mrs. Darcy,” she replied.

      A woman with bright, intelligent eyes appeared beside him, she smiled at Anne.

      “Mrs. Darcy,” said he, stumbling over both words.

      “Mrs. Wentworth,” said the woman, his wife no doubt. Anne finally observed that Mrs. Wentworth was also expecting.

      “My husband-” Anne said, looking around again. Fitzwilliam saw her and joined them.

      Wentworth said, “Our ship came in one week early, otherwise we would not have been able to attend.”

      Anne addressed her husband, “My friend, Captain Wentworth, you remember I spoke of him?”

      He did. The gentlemen exchanged civilities. Anne asked Mrs. Wentworth, “Do you have any children?”

      She smiled, “One as of yet, Elizabeth. She is but two years old. And yourself?”

      “Fitzwilliam, he is about the same age.”

      “Oh, a boy and a girl! Maybe they shall meet someday in many years,” Mrs. Wentworth said, in the idle joking manner of a mother “I like the sound of Elizabeth and Darcy together.”

      Anne smiled, but heard the curtain call and knew they must soon part. She offered her hand to Wentworth. For a moment as their hands touched, she saw herself in another life, the wife of a naval officer, reunited with the love she had lost so very long ago, but then they parted and the vision faded as quickly as it had come. Darcy was offering her his arm and she took it gratefully.

      Elizabeth turned her head as they walked away, “That was her, the other woman?”

      Wentworth nodded.
      “She looks happy.”

      He stopped and looked into his wife’s eyes, “I am happy.”
      She smiled and arm in arm, they entered the theatre.

Love crossovers? Check out my novel, Prideful & Persuaded, to see a comic take on the fates of Caroline Bingley, Sir Walter, Elizabeth Elliot, Tom Bertram, Anne (Nancy) Steele, and Frederick Tilney. It’s a Jane Austen crossover romance with lots of laughs!

For a more serious story, my Mansfield Park variation, Unfairly Caught, explores what might have happened if Fanny had been forced to accept Henry Crawford’s proposal.