36. Chapter 36

A huge shout-out to my incredible beta, CassandraLowery!

Chapter 35

Darcy paused outside the door to the private room at White's that Bingley had reserved for their meeting. He took a deep breath to compose himself before entering; he had no desire to take his anger out on one of his oldest and closest friends. When Elizabeth had informed him of Miss Bingley's public humiliation and how she had bandied his name about in such a casual and improper manner, he had been horrified, and quite frankly, furious. What had the woman been thinking? Never before had he lamented his aversion to attending events during the Season. If he had been there, Miss Bingley would not have dared speak of him in such a manner. He internally cringed at the thought of being the center of salacious gossip. The mere idea of anyone pairing his name with Miss Bingley's was utterly abhorrent. When Elizabeth had told him of Lady Worthington's ball and its purpose to stem the gossip, it had taken every ounce of his self control to not respond in anger and disgust. The last thing he wanted was to be put on public display for the ton to gawk at. The only bright spot in the infernal affair was seeing Elizabeth's righteous indignation on his behalf. He smiled at the recollection; she had been glorious. It warmed his heart to know that she was as protective and possessive of him as he was of her. Not once had she spoken of how this news affected her. Her only concern had been of him and how he must be feeling. He truly didn't deserve such a woman.

Darcy opened the door, prepared to face his friend. He was unsurprised to find Bingley pacing in an agitated manner; his entire demeanor indicated deep distress. He was so caught up in his pacing that he hadn't even realized that Darcy had entered the room. He looked up, startled, as Darcy closed the door.

"Darcy. Good. You're here. Please take a seat." Bingley's stilted speech and lack of eye contact caused Darcy to raise his brows. He sighed. He had decided to let Bingley take the lead, but seeing his friend in such obvious distress caused him to change his mind.

Without preamble, Darcy said, "Bingley, I already know what happened."

Bingley's head shot up to meet Darcy's gaze before averting his eyes in shame and dejection. He sat heavily in a chair, leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

Taking the chair across from his friend, Darcy said in an even tone, "I don't blame you for your sister's actions, Bingley."

Bingley blinked at Darcy in amazement. "How can you not, Darcy? I should have done something, prevented my sister from saying..."

"You are not responsible for the actions of your sister, Bingley," Darcy reiterated in a firm tone. "She behaved in a despicable manner, not you."

Bingley slumped back in the chair, raising his head to meet Darcy's steadfast and non-judgmental gaze. "I am truly sorry, my friend. I should never have allowed her to go to that ball. I should have believed you when you told me she would be shunned from polite society." He shook his head, his expression slightly bewildered. "I never imagined that she would behave so improperly in public."

Darcy barely refrained from responding in exasperation. Bingley had always been blind where his sister was concerned. He had made it a habit, constantly making excuses for her behavior instead of correcting her as he should have done, not only as her brother but also as the head of his family. Bingley had an unfortunate tendency to ignore or forget any unpleasantness which was easier than dealing with the situation. The fact that Bingley had already forgotten his sister's improper behavior exactly one week ago at his birthday dinner was evidence of this habit.

Realizing that bringing up his friend's lackadaisical attitude towards his sister would be futile, he asked, "How did your sister respond when you told her you were releasing her dowry to set up her own establishment?"

Bingley huffed a laugh. "She simply laughed at me and left the room in the middle of our conversation." He stood and began pacing once again. "I don't know what else to do." He stopped and looked at Darcy, his expression hopeful and expectant.

Darcy stared at his friend in confusion before sudden understanding dawned: Bingley was looking to him to solve his problems. He clenched his jaw shut to prevent him from saying something he would later regret. He reminded himself that this was Bingley, his amiable and easy-going friend, the friend who thought well of everyone and was liked by all. He was the man who had helped him through the death of his father, the man who looked up to Darcy and tried to emulate him. Darcy had taken the younger man under his wing at Cambridge and had helped him to maneuver the uncertain waters of a society of which he was unaware and newly a part of.

An unwelcome thought penetrated his musings: had he somehow enabled Bingley, unknowingly influencing his decisions so that he had come to expect help from him? Darcy looked at his friend who was sitting before him, obviously waiting anxiously for him to make his problems go away. And Darcy was left with the uncomfortable realization that he had unduly influenced Bingley, albeit unknowingly. He could recall several instances in the past year in which he had influenced his friend, the latest being the suggestion to remove his sister from his household by releasing her dowry.

Darcy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His interference, however kindly meant, would need to stop immediately. He was doing his friend no favors by simply telling him what to do. How often had he silently berated his friend for his indecisiveness, his unwillingness to deal with his sister's improper behavior? He knew Bingley's character almost as well as his own. How could he not see that Bingley was prone to follow rather than to lead?

"Darcy?" Bingley's uncertain tone brought him back to the situation at hand.

Darcy gazed at his friend with determination. No longer would he tell his friend what to do. He was a man, the head of his house. It was time he started acting like it. "Bingley, what do you think you should do?"

Bingley blinked. "I don't know, Darcy! That is why I am asking you."

Darcy sighed. This was not going to be easy. "Bingley, she is your sister. You know the best way to handle this situation."

Bingley straightened, encouraged by the confidence he saw in his friend's eyes. Hesitantly he said, "Well, I suppose I could simply make the arrangements with my solicitor." He stopped and turned to look at Darcy to gauge his reaction. Seeing nothing on his enigmatic friend's face, he continued, "I will find a suitable townhouse for my sister and a companion." His brow furrowed, and he revised his last statement. "No, no, Caroline will want to choose her own companion. But I'll hire the staff." He nodded in satisfaction, turning to smile triumphantly at his friend.

"Bingley, I know I've said this before but you need to understand how things will be for your sister now. She will find doors previously open to her closed permanently. What she experienced the other night at the ball is but a taste of what will come. She will no longer receive invitations to society events, and her previous friends will shun her. The only hope she has of marrying will be to someone of lower society, a tradesman or soldier perhaps."

Bingley grimaced. "I understand, Darcy. I will meet with my solicitor as soon as possible." He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I have much I need to do before removing Caroline from my household. I am not looking forward to that," he finished despondently. He shook his head sadly. "She was not always like this, Darcy. I don't know what happened."

Darcy looked at his friend sympathetically. "She thought too highly of herself, Bingley. She never learned that money does not make the person but character. Society is very unforgiving, especially to those with new money. She has been scrutinized since the day she entered society and has been found wanting."

"And what of me, Darcy?" Bingley turned to face his friend, his expression discouraged. "What will society think of me?"

"Do you care what society thinks of you?"

Bingley stared at Darcy in amazement. "Of course I do! My father worked his entire life to see me as a gentleman. To fail in the one thing that he desired of me would be impossible." He threw up his hands. "And now my father's dream is over before it has really begun."

Darcy shook his head. "No, it is not, Bingley. Your sister has disgraced herself, not you. Society may be a little guarded towards you, but that is where your friends' support will aid you. You still have my support, Bingley."

"Thank you, Darcy. I don't deserve it, but thank you."

"Nonsense. You are my friend, Bingley. And I stand by my friends."

Bingley smiled wryly. "But not my sister."

Darcy sucked in a breath. "No," he responded tersely. "I will not."

Bingley nodded his head, resigned. "I was hoping that you would give her another chance. If she knew that her previous behavior would no longer be tolerated-"

"Out of the question, Bingley!" Darcy was incensed. How could Bingley even think that he would consider acknowledging his sister, especially since her latest faux pas had resulted in dragging his name through the mud.

Bingley deflated at his friend's forceful tone. "You're right, of course. I should not have even asked."

Darcy took a deep breath to control his raging emotions. He had no desire for Bingley's repulsive sister to cause a rift between them.

"As painful as it will be to cut off Caroline, I know it is for the best. I desire to marry, and I know that my chosen bride will not tolerate her behavior." Bingley smiled brilliantly. "Although I have no doubt she'd be able to handle her magnificently."

Darcy felt his heart drop. He knew of whom Bingley was referring: Miss Bennet. He couldn't in good conscience let his friend think that he had a chance with her. He knew Richard's intentions towards that young lady and, more importantly, Miss Bennet's expectations regarding his cousin.

Not wishing to cause his friend undue distress, Darcy said gently, "Bingley, if you are speaking of Miss Bennet, I feel I need to inform you that she is already spoken for."

Bingley's face drained of color. "What? To whom? How did I not know this? I felt sure that she welcomed my attentions."

Darcy shook his head. "I know that her affections lay elsewhere. And I know the gentleman's intention is to marry her."

"So she is engaged?"

"No, not yet."

"They are courting?"

"No."

Bingley smiled in apparent relief. "Then I still have a chance."

Bingley's infernal optimism! Darcy sighed. "Bingley, I am telling you this to spare you disappointment. She is not available."

Bingley waved his hand, dismissing his friend's words. "Until my 'angel' tells me no or she is engaged to be married, I will continue in my pursuit. 'The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.'" (1)

Not against Richard, it doesn't, Darcy murmured under his breath.

"You didn't tell me the name of the gentleman who wishes to marry my Jane."

Darcy looked at Bingley as if the answer should be obvious.

Bingley blinked, first in confusion, then in sudden understanding. "Colonel Fitzwilliam?" he gasped incredulously.

Darcy raised his brows in amusement. "Why should you be so surprised? My cousin is very eligible. He is the son of an earl and sufficiently wealthy. He can marry where he chooses."

"But he is a confirmed bachelor!" Bingley exclaimed in desperation.

Darcy couldn't help smirking. "My dear Bingley, a 'confirmed bachelor' is nothing more than a man who has not yet found a woman he wishes to marry and give up his independence." He leveled his gaze at his floundering friend. "And believe me when I say that my cousin wishes to marry Miss Bennet."

Bingley slumped back in his chair. "But they don't yet have an understanding?"

"They do not. But I know it will not be long before they do." Darcy said with conviction.

Bingley nodded absentmindedly. "Thank you for telling me. But I cannot give up. I have never met someone like her before, Darcy. She is...perfect, divine, an angel sent directly from heaven..."

Darcy rolled his eyes at his friend's sentimental nonsense. "Yes, I am sure she is," he drawled. "Unfortunately she is another man's 'divine angel,' Bingley. That is what I am trying to tell you."

Bingley frowned at Darcy. "What if another man was pursuing your Miss Elizabeth? Would you give her up so easily?"

"Of course not! But you are forgetting one important fact, Bingley: I am engaged to Elizabeth. She is mine and was always meant to be mine."

Bingley smiled. "Then you understand. That is how I feel about Jane, that she was meant to be mine. I cannot give up, Darcy. I am determined."

Darcy shook his head at his friend's obtuseness. This was not the first time his friend had expressed such sentiments. It seemed that every time Bingley wrote to him, he was extolling the virtues of yet another "angel." He couldn't fault Bingley in his admiration for Miss Bennet, knowing he would be unable to resist the fair beauty. Miss Bennet was simply another in a long line of failed romances. He sincerely hoped Bingley would not be too disappointed when Miss Bennet became engaged to his cousin.

Further discourse was interrupted by servants bringing in their meal. Darcy watched Bingley as he ate, his face alternating between grim determination and hopeful expectation. Darcy sighed, glancing at the clock on the mantle. Elizabeth had arrived at Darcy House approximately one hour ago at noon. He knew that Georgiana was planning on eating shortly after her arrival, so they were probably just finishing up now. He could reasonably leave Bingley within the next hour which meant he might make it back before they toured the mistress' chambers. He had asked Georgiana to delay showing them to Elizabeth for as long as possible.

His attention was diverted as Bingley cleared his throat.

"Darcy," Bingley began hesitantly, toying with his fork, "I have been thinking that it is time for me to buy an estate."

Darcy nodded his head, unsurprised by his friend's admission. He knew that Bingley's father had wanted his only son to become a member of the landed gentry. Buying an estate was the next logical step in becoming a gentleman.

"Have you made inquiries of properties for sale?"

Bingley shook his head. "I have not. To be honest, I don't know the first thing to look for." He looked at Darcy, his expression once again hopeful and expectant.

Darcy waited. He was not adverse to assisting his friend in finding a suitable estate, but he wanted Bingley to take the initiative, to ask him, rather than to simply expect his assistance.

Bingley stared at Darcy, his expression changing to one of impatience. "Well?"

Darcy raised his brows. "Well what?"

"Are you going to assist me?"

Darcy looked at his impatient, overeager friend and sighed. "I don't recall you asking me to assist you, Bingley."

Bingley blinked stupidly before his expression morphed into one of chagrin. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Darcy, will you assist me in locating a suitable property to buy?"

"I would be happy to, Bingley." Darcy smiled at the look of utter relief on his younger friend's face. "I suggest that you lease a property for at least one year before deciding to purchase. Have you given any thought to where you would like to look?"

Bingley grinned slyly at Darcy before replying promptly, "Hertfordshire."

(1) "The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war" comes from the novel, Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, published in 1579. The quote is the earliest version of "All is fair in love and war" which appeared for the first time in the English novel, Frank Fairleigh, published in 1850.

~oOOo~

Darcy hurried down the stairs at White's, cognizant of the time; his conversation with Bingley had lasted much longer than he had anticipated. After recovering from the shock of Bingley wishing to look for properties in Hertfordshire, he had asked his friend to keep his options open. He knew he was overreacting; the chances of Bingley succeeding in securing Miss Bennet's hand were practically nonexistent. He heartily wished that he had not given into the temptation of interrupting his cousin and Miss Bennet the day before. If he hadn't, his cousin and Miss Bennet would be officially courting, and Bingley would not even consider finding properties in the county in which Miss Bennet resided. He had agreed to be a guest at Bingley's leased estate to provide first-hand experience in the running of a large property, and his honor would not allow him to renege. But if Bingley persisted in following through and finding an estate in Hertfordshire, he knew that nothing, not even a promise to a friend, would allow him to reside for any length of time in the same county as Elizabeth's mother.

Darcy nodded to several acquaintances, moving quickly towards his escape. He drew many sidelong glances as he passed, but he ignored them. No doubt the gentlemen were discussing the nature of his possible "relationship" with Miss Bingley. He had come to the conclusion long ago that gentlemen were just as likely to gossip as their female counterparts. It was one of the reasons he avoided and detested society; they were nothing but whited sepulchers, ready and willing to tear a person to shreds with barbed words and cutting glances for the very behavior they indulged in discreetly. The false superiority and moral degradation of the majority of these "upstanding gentlemen" disgusted him. He had few acquaintances, and even fewer friends, whom he could tolerate spending an evening with...which was why he was grateful that Miss Bingley's abhorrent behavior had not led to the end of his friendship with Bingley.

As he neared the front door of White's, he breathed an audible sigh of relief. No sooner had he donned his hat and gloves and made ready to escape this dungeon of moral decay than a familiar voice called to him from behind. He gritted his teeth at the unwelcome delay and turned to face the smiling face of Sir Reginald Lynton.

"Ah, Darcy! I thought I recognized that stiff posture and determined gait," Lynton chided good-naturedly.

Darcy bowed perfunctorily. "Lynton, good day to you. I apologize, but I have somewhere I need to be."

Lynton raised a brow at his curt dismissal. Leaning in closer, he said in a quiet tone so as not to be overheard, "I admit I am surprised to see you here, Darcy. After Miss Bingley's veiled implication the other night..." His voice trailed off, assessing his reaction.

Darcy scowled, his estimation of Lynton's intelligence and common sense dropping drastically. "You should not believe everything you hear, Lynton. It is beneath you."

"From you Darcy, that is practically a compliment. I am flattered."

Darcy remained silent, his gaze unrelenting.

Lynton sighed, glancing around him and satisfied they had sufficient privacy, said quietly, "I don't believe a word of it, Darcy; I believe you are an honorable man." He smirked. "Besides, the idea of any sane, rational gentlemen becoming involved with that woman is inconceivable."

Darcy's mouth quirked at the corner in a semblance of a smile. "Indeed."

"I saw Bingley earlier. He didn't look well, poor fellow. Perhaps I'll invite him to play faro. Losing money always lifts my mood."

Darcy gave Lynton a genuine smile, knowing that Lynton's invitation was the same as throwing his considerable influence behind Bingley's tenuous position in society. "I am sure that Bingley will appreciate that, Lynton," Darcy said with feeling.

Lynton nodded his head, "Good." He shifted his stance, his expression turning uncertain. He cleared his throat. "I...ah...that is, I was wondering..."

Darcy raised his brows at Lynton's apparent discomfort. "What is it you wish to ask me, Lynton? I really do need to be somewhere."

Lynton raised his gaze to meet Darcy's and blurted out, "Does that 'need to be somewhere' have anything to do with Miss Elizabeth?"

Darcy stared at Lynton, noticing the slight flush on his face at the mention of his betrothed. He was struck with the sudden realization that Lynton still harbored some affection for his Elizabeth. He felt a wave of possessiveness crash over him at the thought of Lynton having any role other than indifferent acquaintance in his Elizabeth's life. He knew such fears were unfounded; Elizabeth had chosen him. But Darcy was mindful of the fact that Elizabeth could just as easily have chosen Lynton. Despite their rivalry for Elizabeth's affections, Darcy knew Lynton to be an honorable man, and he had no wish to cause him undue distress.

"Elizabeth and I are betrothed, Lynton," Darcy stated quietly. "I leave tomorrow to obtain her father's consent."

Lynton nodded, a resigned expression on his face. He smiled sadly. "I suppose Miss Elizabeth chose the best man after all."

Darcy gazed at Lynton thoughtfully. "No, not the best man, just the right one."

Lynton looked at Darcy appraisingly. "You were always so confident that she would choose you."

"Elizabeth was always meant to be mine, Lynton," Darcy said with conviction.

Lynton smiled wryly, clapping Darcy on the back. "Well, I congratulate you on winning the heart of a most worthy lady. I will not lie, Darcy; I envy you." He smirked and said jokingly, "If her father happens to refuse your suit, just know that I'll be waiting." With a wink and a friendly salute, Lynton walked away.

~oOOo~

Elizabeth was thoroughly enjoying her time alone with her future sister. Georgiana's enthusiasm for her engagement to her brother was unparalleled; it had taken Elizabeth nearly a full quarter hour to calm her down, so great was her excitement. After exhausting her raptures over her own engagement, she turned to the likelihood of Jane's engagement to her cousin. Despite Elizabeth's protests, Georgiana insisted on claiming Jane as her future cousin.

"He will ask, Lizzy. I know it!" Georgiana stated with all the aplomb of a fifteen year old.

Elizabeth laughed. "That may be so, Georgiana. But until he does ask, we should not speculate or gossip." She knew she was being overly sensitive, but Elizabeth had been rudely made aware of the damage that could be done pairing a young, unmarried lady's name to an unmarried gentleman's. At the thought of Miss Bingley, Elizabeth seethed with barely suppressed anger. Unfortunately, Georgiana immediately noticed. At her concerned inquiry, Elizabeth waved aside her concerns with a bright smile and changed the subject. It was not her place to inform Georgiana of Miss Bingley's insinuation regarding her relationship with her brother. Georgiana was innocent and unaware of the more distasteful side of society and Elizabeth didn't wish to mar that innocence too soon.

As they moved into the small dining room for lunch, they spent a considerable amount of time talking about the wedding and all that event would entail, from the wedding clothes to the flowers. Seeing Georgiana's enthusiasm and knowing her love of shopping, Elizabeth quickly invited her to assist in shopping for her trousseau.

Georgiana's countenance fell. "I am leaving for Ramsgate with Mrs. Annesley on Saturday; I will be gone for a fortnight," Georgiana said regretfully. "This trip has been planned since the New Year, and Fitzwilliam agreed that it would be best to go now rather than postpone it." Her expression brightened. "That way I will be here for your wedding."

At the casual mention of her marriage to Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth's stomach fluttered with anticipation and nervousness. "We have yet to choose a date, Georgiana," Elizabeth responded with a laugh. "There is plenty of time."

Georgiana looked slyly at Elizabeth. "Not according to my brother; he wishes to marry by summer's end."

Elizabeth raised a brow. "Indeed? Well he has yet to inform me of this."

"Well, I am sure he will be very...persuasive in getting his way," Georgiana said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Elizabeth gazed open-mouthed at Georgiana in astonishment. What had happened to the demure young lady she knew? Seeing Georgiana unsuccessfully try to stifle a laugh, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

Georgiana burst out laughing. "I may have overheard my brother and cousin talking. I am just repeating what Richard said about my brother's persuasiveness."

Guilelessly, Georgiana asked, "Is Fitzwilliam persuasive, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth felt a blush overspread her face. She coughed and said matter-of-factly, "Yes, he can be very persuasive."

Deciding a change of topic was needed before Georgiana asked in which manner her brother was persuasive, Elizabeth asked if Georgiana had visited Ramsgate before. They finished up luncheon with Georgiana enthusiastically describing the delights of Ramsgate and the sea.

After luncheon, Georgiana led Elizabeth outside to view the garden. Elizabeth's breath caught as she walked outside. Before her was a riot of color; the flowers were spread out like a variegated blanket. She recognized delphiniums, asters, violets, gardenias, and a variety of other colorful blooms within her line of sight. A winding path beckoned her to follow and lose herself in its wild beauty. Elizabeth was enchanted by what she saw.

Georgiana eagerly watched Elizabeth's face as she saw the garden for the first time. She felt slightly guilty that Fitzwilliam was not here to witness it, but she knew he most wanted to see her face when she saw the mistress' chambers for the first time.

Elizabeth spent a quarter hour exploring the garden, Georgiana walking quietly beside her. Knowing Elizabeth's enthusiasm for the outdoors, Georgiana began talking in detail about the gardens and grounds surrounding Pemberley. Elizabeth listened raptly to the picture Georgiana painted of her future home. Home. A delightful thrill went through Elizabeth at the thought of Pemberley being her home. How could she already love a place she had never seen before?

After returning inside, Elizabeth hesitantly asked if she could visit the portrait gallery again. Georgiana quickly acquiesced, and together they ascended to the third floor. Elizabeth paused periodically as she walked down the long hallway, stopping at the portraits who resembled Fitzwilliam in some way. She laughed to herself as she realized that she was trying to categorically find each and every beloved feature on at least one of Fitzwilliam's ancestors' faces.

Finally, she came to the portrait of Fitzwilliam as a young man of not quite sixteen. As she had the first time she viewed this portrait at her very first visit to Darcy House, she compared the visage of the young man to the grown man she knew and loved. She remembered finding more discrepancies than similarities between the young man and the grown man; now, however, she recognized more of a resemblance, particularly in Fitzwilliam's eyes. When this portrait was painted, Fitzwilliam knew that his mother was dying, but his eyes still conveyed hope, and a youthful innocence that life had not yet eradicated. Within six months of this portrait being painted, Fitzwilliam would see his mother's health decline until she succumbed to her illness. He would lose his father barely five years later, and would be left to care for a sister too young to remember her mother and the memory of a father too grief-stricken to care. Unbidden, she felt tears gather in her eyes as she thought of how lost and lonely Fitzwilliam must have felt. She blinked her eyes rapidly to keep her tears from falling, not wishing to alarm Georgiana needlessly.

As if sensing Elizabeth's thoughts, Georgiana, her voice laced with a near reverence, said, "I am so grateful for you, Lizzy; for bringing hope back in Fitzwilliam's eyes. He is a changed man, a better man." Georgiana turned slightly so she could see Elizabeth's face. "Because of you."

Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, Elizabeth smiled. "It is I who am grateful, Georgiana. Your brother could have chosen anyone, but he chose me."

Georgiana smiled knowingly at Elizabeth, eyes full of a wondrous secret. "It was meant to be, Lizzy," she said with certainty. In a voice so quiet Elizabeth almost didn't hear, she whispered, "I wish my mother could have witnessed what she had long foreseen would come to pass."

Elizabeth's expression turned thoughtful as she contemplated Georgiana's choice of words. No doubt she meant she wished that her mother could see Fitzwilliam marry. What mother didn't want her children to find love and happiness in marriage?

Elizabeth gazed up at the portrait of Fitzwilliam's parents, her eyes lingering on the serene and beautiful countenance of his mother. She still needed to fulfill her promise to Georgiana in asking Fitzwilliam to share his memories of their mother. Truth be told, her promise to Georgiana had barely crossed her mind since the young lady had made the request. Elizabeth had been too caught up with Mr. Williamson and her own mother, and she vowed to try when she felt that the moment was right. She knew that Fitzwilliam was concealing his pain, unable or unwilling to allow himself to properly grieve. Fitzwilliam needed to allow himself to mourn his mother in order to heal the deep wound in his heart.

"I have not yet had an opportunity to ask Fitzwilliam about your mother, Georgiana," Elizabeth said remorsefully. "But I promise I will ask him."

Georgiana smiled. "I know you will, Lizzy. Once you are married, there will be ample opportunities to ask about Mother. I am sure Fitzwilliam is not the only one who can be persuasive," she said innocently.

Elizabeth bit her lip and turned her head so that Georgiana would not see her reddened face. She didn't know how she would explain her sudden blush to Georgiana.

She was grateful when Georgiana seemed unaware of her slight embarrassment and asked if she would like to see the family wing of the house. She nodded her head, knowing that this was one of the reasons why Georgiana had invited her to luncheon: to view the mistress' rooms, her future rooms. Fitzwilliam wished for her view her suite of rooms in order to choose how she wanted them to be decorated. When he had told her his plan, she had protested, saying that it was not necessary. The look he gave her had quelled any further arguments. So she would see her future rooms and work with the housekeeper on any changes she wished to make. Fitzwilliam wanted everything to be ready for her before they were married, so she had until she left for Longbourn to make her wishes known.

Georgiana led her into a beautiful bedroom fit for a princess. The room was large, at least twice as large as her bedroom at home. The windows faced east, allowing the natural morning and afternoon light to stream in, giving the room a light and airy feeling. The colors were soft and inviting, with shades of pink, blue, and cream dominating the room. Elizabeth turned in a circle to take it all in.

"This is beautiful, Georgiana. I don't think I would change a thing."

Georgiana laughed merrily. "That is good, Lizzy, because this is my room."

Elizabeth halted in her steps and laughed with her future sister. "Forgive me, but I assumed that-"

Georgiana shook her head as she said, "This isn't the mistress' chambers, Lizzy. Your rooms are much grander than mine."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "I find that hard to believe."

Georgiana only laughed, grabbing Elizabeth's hand to pull her through a door. Elizabeth walked through a dressing room and a bathing room before Georgiana pulled her into a comfortable sitting room. She knew that this was Georgiana's personal sitting room as she could see a pile of books on a writing desk scattered with various sketches. A small pianoforte resided in one corner of the room opposite the large fireplace. A comfortable window seat beckoned, and Elizabeth wandered over to find a book resting on a soft, wool blanket.

"I imagine you spend much of your time here," Elizabeth commented softly. "It is delightful, Georgiana."

Georgiana glanced around the room, a soft smile on her face as if welcoming a beloved friend. "Yes, it is my favorite room in the house; it is my sanctuary. Fitzwilliam has his study, and I have this room."

"It is lovely, Georgiana."

Georgiana cocked her head to the side. "I wonder which room will become your favorite," she mused.

"The library," Elizabeth responded promptly.

Georgiana's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps, but the library here is nothing compared to the library at Pemberley. Reserve your judgment until you have seen it."

Elizabeth nodded. She knew whichever room Fitzwilliam was in would be her favorite, but she couldn't express that sentiment out loud to her very impressionable future sister. Maybe she would express it to Fitzwilliam just to see that certain look come into his eyes that seemed to melt her where she stood...

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth mentally shook her head before focusing on Georgiana. She had a very strange look on her face as she said, "You must be thinking of Fitzwilliam."

Elizabeth raised a brow. "Why do you say that?"

"Because Fitzwilliam gets the same look in his eyes when I believe he's thinking of you."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I see. Yes, I was thinking of Fitzwilliam."

Georgiana gave Elizabeth a smug smile. "It must have been something particularly pleasant."

For the third time that day, Elizabeth blushed, shaking her head as Georgiana laughed. "Just you wait, my dear Georgiana. Someday a man will come into your life who will make your heart pound and your legs go weak in the knees, and then we will see who's laughing."

Georgiana waved her hand dismissively. "That is still ages away, Lizzy. I am in no hurry to fall in love."

"You don't choose to fall in love, Georgiana; it just happens." With a deep, contented sigh, Elizabeth added, "When you least expect it."

Georgiana's delighted laughter brought Elizabeth's daydreaming to a halt, and she playfully swatted her future sister. Linking her arm with Georgiana's, she said resolutely, "Now show me the mistress' chambers. I am ready."

~oOOo~

Darcy entered his town house, impatient to see Elizabeth. He hoped that Georgiana had been successful in diverting Elizabeth's attention elsewhere until he arrived.

Fletcher anticipated his unspoken question and said, "Miss Darcy and Miss Elizabeth went upstairs about twenty minutes ago, sir. I believe you'll find them in Miss Darcy's sitting room."

As soon as Fletcher began speaking, Darcy strode quickly towards the stairs. "Thank you, Fletcher," he called over his shoulder, taking the steps two at a time. He knew it was indecorous behavior but couldn't find it in himself to care. Luckily, Fletcher was the soul of discretion; he'd have to be with Richard living in the house, he thought wryly.

At the top of the stairs, he turned right towards the family wing of the house, slowing his steps as he reached the door to Georgiana's sitting room. He knocked softly before entering, frowning when he found the room empty. A quick look in Georgiana's bedroom revealed that they were not in his sister's suite of rooms.

As he left Georgiana's room, he saw his housekeeper, Mrs. Fletcher walking towards him from the direction of the mistress' rooms.

With a welcoming smile Mrs. Fletcher said, "I just left Miss Darcy and the future Mrs. Darcy in the mistress' sitting room, sir. They have been there for no more than five minutes."

Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. "Excellent. Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher."

"Of course, sir." Mrs. Fletcher paused before adding, "Perhaps you could send Miss Darcy to find me when Miss Elizabeth is ready for me." With a not-so-subtle wink, Mrs. Fletcher continued down the hallway.

Suppressing a grin, Darcy paused outside the sitting room for a brief moment before making a quick and rather impulsive decision. Bypassing the sitting room door, he went to the door of the mistress' bedroom and entered quietly. He walked quickly through the bedroom and into the dressing room, pausing at the partially open door to the sitting room. He smiled as he heard Elizabeth ask Georgiana if she knew when he would arrive. I am here, Elizabeth. Not wanting to alert Elizabeth to his presence just yet, he carefully peered around the partially open door to see if he could gain Georgiana's attention surreptitiously.

Their backs were to him, standing in front of a long table that held several different fabrics. He had taken the liberty of selecting several fabrics that reflected Elizabeth's love of the outdoors which he thought she would particularly like.

He watched them for a moment before Georgiana turned around saying, "I have a pillow in a color that will complement this fabric..."

Georgiana started when she spied Darcy lurking behind the door. He put a finger to his lips so she would not give away his presence. Georgiana glanced back at Elizabeth with a sly smile before saying, "Let me go and get the pillow, Lizzy. I'll return shortly."

Elizabeth hummed a response, her attention focused on the fabrics before her. With a wide smile directed at her brother, Georgiana left the sitting room, a jaunty spring to her step.

Darcy remained behind the door to watch Elizabeth. She was here. So many times he had pictured her in this very sitting room, quietly reading while she waited for him. He smiled at the reality standing in front of him. Elizabeth would soon be his wife and there would be no more farewells, no need to be separated.

Elizabeth lifted up the fabric she held in her hands and turned her head to the side, emphasizing the elegant line of her neck. She began humming, and he immediately recognized the melody of the song that he had begun to think of as their song: Beethoven's Sonata. She suddenly walked towards the window; the only reason she didn't see him was that her gaze was focused on the fabric in her hands. Standing in front of the window, she held up the fabric in her hands to see the light dance across the iridescent green fabric.

"So beautiful," he heard her murmur.

Unable to stay away any longer, he quietly moved to stand behind her. She must have heard him because her head shot up, and she saw his reflection in the window as he stood behind her. She gasped softly, the fabric in her hands falling heedlessly to the floor. Darcy smiled, gently placing his hands on her arms as he leaned in and kissed her temple.

"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth murmured, immediately relaxing her posture and leaning her head back against his broad chest.

Darcy lightly ran his hands up and down her arms, smiling as she shivered in response to his touch. "I hurried as quickly as I could, my love," he said as his lips caressed her neck.

"Mmmmm...I am glad you are back."

In response, Darcy encircled Elizabeth with his right arm, his right hand splayed across her stomach, drawing her closer. He brought his left hand up, a single finger running down the side of her neck. With a soft hum of approval, Elizabeth tilted her head to the right, bringing her hand to rest on top of his on her stomach. Darcy kissed her temple before slowly trailing kisses down the side of her face and the length of her neck, pausing at her rapidly beating pulse until he heard her sharp intake of breath. He inhaled her jasmine scent at the juncture of her neck and shoulders before lowering his head and placing feather light kisses along her collarbone.

"H-how was...mmmm...your meet...meeting with...oh, mmmm...Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth asked breathlessly.

"Elizabeth?" Darcy responded, nipping her collarbone with his teeth.

"Y-yes?" Elizabeth gasped.

Darcy smiled. "I really don't wish to speak of Bingley in this particular moment," he whispered in her ear.

Elizabeth laughed softly, feeling Fitzwilliam's hand contract against her stomach.

Darcy wrapped both arms around Elizabeth, resting his chin on top of her head. "How do you like your rooms?"

"They are beautiful, Fitzwilliam. More grand than even I imagined." Elizabeth glanced down at the fabric at her feet. "I understand that you selected these fabrics for me to choose from?"

"Yes. But please don't think you have to choose from these alone," Darcy gestured toward the fabrics on the table at his right. "If you don't see something you like-"

"No, I love what you have chosen, Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth turned slightly in his arms so she could meet his eyes. "It is perfect. Thank you," she finished softly, infusing all the gratitude and love she felt for him into her voice and expression.

Darcy stared into Elizabeth's luminous brown eyes; her eyes were so expressive, so beautiful. He could spend a lifetime gazing into their depths and never get enough. His arms tightened around her unconsciously. Soon.

Darcy cleared his throat and gestured toward the window. "How do you like your view?" he asked, already knowing her answer. He knew that Elizabeth would be pleased that the garden could be seen from every one of the windows in their rooms.

Elizabeth turned around to face the window. "Beautiful," she responded with feeling. "I love your garden, Fitzwilliam. I don't think I have ever seen such untamed beauty. It is glorious."

Darcy smiled into Elizabeth's hair. "I am glad, my love. The views from our rooms at Pemberley are even more glorious." His voice lowered as he said, "I cannot wait to show you."

Elizabeth trembled as Fitzwilliam's intimate tone fell over her like a warm caress. She closed her eyes, committing this perfect moment to her memory.

"The garden is missing one thing, however."

Elizabeth opened her eyes in surprise. "What?" she asked, curious.

When Fitzwilliam didn't respond immediately, Elizabeth twisted in his arms to see his face. She raised a brow at his playful expression. "What is it missing, Fitzwilliam?"

"An oak tree," he whispered against her lips before kissing her softly.

Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "Will you plant one?"

Darcy shook his head watching in amusement as Elizabeth's countenance fell. He smiled slowly. "We will plant one. Together. After I obtain your father's consent."

Elizabeth sighed happily. "Are you nervous?"

Darcy snorted, causing Elizabeth to laugh. "Should I be?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "As long as my mother believes that you are there for Jane's hand, all will be well." Elizabeth paused before saying softly, "I am sorry you have to be deceptive, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy sighed, kissing the top of her head. "For you, Elizabeth, I will do whatever is needed to gain your hand."

They remained silent, wrapped in each other's arms as they gazed out the window at the magnificent splendor below them. Elizabeth couldn't help wondering if it bothered Fitzwilliam to be here, considering that these rooms once belonged to his mother. Cautiously, she asked, "Is it difficult for you to be here?"

Darcy became still behind her, his arms frozen around her waist. Elizabeth bit her lip, wondering if she had gone too far.

In a carefully controlled voice, Darcy responded, "My father had these rooms stripped of everything belonging to my mother after she died, including the furniture. That is why the room is not as out of fashion as it should be."

Elizabeth waited, hoping Fitzwilliam would say something more. When he didn't, she debated whether she should say anything more. She said a silent prayer asking for the words to break through the wall he had built around his heart.

Gathering her courage, she asked, "Will you tell me about her? Your mother?"

Darcy didn't respond but kissed her temple softly before removing his arms from around her and stepping away, turning his back to her. Elizabeth waited, praying fervently for him to say something, anything.

"Elizabeth," Darcy said haltingly, running his hand through his hair. "I don't wish to speak of my mother."

"Why?" she ventured. She knew this was the pivotal moment; Fitzwilliam could either turn her away of face his fears. Elizabeth moved to stand in front of him, refusing to let him shut her out. She swallowed at the closed look on his face. It was as if a veil had dropped down, masking his true feelings. It hurt more than she thought it would. She gently raised his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes. What she saw shocked her; his eyes were cold, almost lifeless, devoid of all emotion and feeling. She shuddered but refused to turn away. She locked gazes with him, pouring all the love and devotion she felt in her heart for this wonderful man standing so stoically and bravely in front of her. She showed him that she accepted him-as he was, that she loved all of him.

Darcy's hardened gaze slowly softened as he gazed at the woman before him. He closed his eyes, overcome with the love and acceptance he saw so clearly in the depths of her brown eyes. He truly didn't deserve such a woman. He took a deep breath and said, "You don't understand, Elizabeth. You cannot understand."

"Then explain it to me, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth replied softly. She reached out grasping his hand in hers, marveling at his strong, capable hands that dwarfed her smaller hands so completely. To see Fitzwilliam, always so confident and self-assured, so broken was heart-breaking. All she could do was lend him what emotional support she could and love him. She prayed that it would be enough.

Darcy looked down, staring at their clasped hands. The barest hint of a smile graced his lips as he squeezed the small hand that held his so tenderly. He looked at his Elizabeth, her eyes so full of trust and love. How could he not reward that faithfulness with some explanation. He just hoped that he would still be whole emotionally at the end of it.

"You cannot know what it was like after my mother passed away, Elizabeth. My father shut himself away, turned away from everything and everyone: me, Georgiana, Pemberley..." He closed his eyes as he remembered the overwhelming feeling of loneliness and abandonment washed over him. He had not only lost his mother that sweltering day in August eleven years ago, but his father as well.

"My father's grief made him incapable of doing anything; he stopped living, Elizabeth." Darcy raised his head, his eyes filled with a long-held pain. "My father gave in to his grief; he became...useless. I had to take up his responsibilities. Overnight I became father to Georgiana and master of Pemberley." He paused, running his hand through his hair, his breathing heavy. "I did not have the luxury of grieving," he said bitterly. "I saw that it made my father weak, and I couldn't afford to be weak."

Elizabeth felt her heart constrict at Fitzwilliam's pain and anguish. For eleven years he had carried this pain, locking away his grief because he believed it made him weak. No more, she vowed.

"You think grieving your mother will make you weak?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy stared at Elizabeth. "Yes. I do," he said with feeling.

Elizabeth shook her head, "Oh, Fitzwilliam. My love, grief does not make you weak; it is the price we pay for love. Your mother-"

"My mother is gone," Darcy said harshly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, clearing her mind of all thoughts as she prayed for the words to relieve some of his pain. Suddenly the words of her sister Mary came into her mind, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

"Your mother is not gone, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy gazed at Elizabeth as if she had suddenly lost her mind.

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes shining with hope and love. "She is not. Do you truly believe a loving God would remove the bonds that we forge in life?"

Elizabeth reached out, clasping both Fitzwilliam's hands in hers. "That this love that we share ends when we die?" She shook her head. "I don't believe it does, Fitzwilliam. Love transcends all."

Elizabeth reached up gently placing her hands on either side of his face. "Dying is like walking into another room. We cannot see them, but they are still there. The ties that bind are still as strong, still real. Love binds them to us. Forever. Anne Darcy is still your mother, Fitzwilliam, and she will always be your mother. Death cannot change that."

"I want to believe what you say is true," Darcy whispered, his voice hoarse.

Elizabeth bestowed a soft kiss, seeking to give comfort. "Let me believe for the both of us," she replied.

Darcy encircled Elizabeth in his arms, crushing her body to his as he gave way to his grief. Elizabeth held him as his body shook with suppressed sobs. She fought to keep her own tears at bay but was unsuccessful. Healing had begun.

Several heartbeats later, Darcy pulled away. His face was devoid of tears, but his eyes were red. His willingness to be so vulnerable before her moved Elizabeth, and she felt her heart swell with pride and happiness. She loved him more in that moment than ever before.

"I love you, Fitzwilliam George Darcy," Elizabeth stated, her voice breaking with emotion.

Darcy rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment before raising his head, his gaze caressing her face lovingly, reverently. "I love you, Elizabeth Darcy."

Elizabeth's breath caught, the significance of the moment overwhelming. Elizabeth Darcy. Although their lives were not yet bound before God and man, in this perfect moment their souls were inexplicably and undeniably connected. Tears of joy filled her eyes and slid silently down her face. Fitzwilliam kissed away each one while whispering tender endearments with every soft brush of his lips.

After Elizabeth had composed herself, Darcy kissed her hand before wordlessly leading her to the sofa a few steps away. Darcy sat, pulling her onto his lap. He situated her comfortably across his legs, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, his arms draped loosely around her waist. Elizabeth closed her eyes in utter contentment and peace, resting her hand on his chest to feel his steady heartbeat.

After a brief moment of expectant silence, Darcy took a deep breath. "My mother loved Pemberley in the spring..."

A/N:

Please don't be too worried about the reappearance of Lynton. He's not going to somehow prevent Darcy from going to Longbourn. But he will pop up again in the very near future.

Just a reminder, there is no Wickham in this story (yea!) so there will no negative repercussions of Georgiana going to Ramsgate.

Please share with me your thoughts on this chapter. I love hearing from you!

Much love,

MAH