Chapter 7

Mr Darcy took his letter out of his pocket. He washed his face and then sat down to finish the letter to his sister at candlelight. He lit all three in the room. For the first time, he wrote to her about a lady he had met. He described her with subtle words and praised her courage for standing up for what she believed in. How rare this is in women! He wrote about the topic of their debate and how he had to bow in the face of her logic. He also mentioned that she had asked him about her.

As Darcy sat in the quiet stillness of his room, he found his mind in turmoil, endlessly turning over the evening's conversation and his impulsive decision to ask her to dance. What had compelled him to act so out of character, to so recklessly invite her into his arms? He knew the answer all too well – he had never wanted a woman as he wanted Elizabeth Bennet. Her wit, her defiance, her unstudied charm had cast a spell over him, a spell he felt powerless to break. She had bewitched him utterly, drawing him in with a force he could scarcely comprehend.

Yet, with each moment of longing came a pang of despair. He wished, with an ache he felt keenly, that her circumstances were different – that she belonged to a world that would accept her as the object of his admiration. But such thoughts only deepened the weight upon his heart, for he could not easily bridge the chasm that separated them. With a reluctant sigh, he rose, casting off his coat and loosening his cravat, each movement feeling heavier than the last. Finally, he sank into bed, hoping that sleep might silence the haunting vision of her that danced endlessly through his mind.

***

The next day found Mr Darcy walking in the shrubbery, taking advantage  

Chapter 10 - major rewrite

She smiled in gratitude. "He is a cousin to our father, visiting our family for the first time. He is Lady de Bourgh's new clergyman." She then turned to her cousin. "Mr Collins, this is Mr Darcy from Derbyshire."

Mr Collins's eyes went wide with astonishment before he gasped and began bowing so deeply and repeatedly that it seemed he might collapse from sheer reverence. Both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy exchanged a look, their shared surprise evident in their silent communication.

"That is enough, Mr Collins," Darcy had to call out.

"Oh, but what a privilege it is, sir!" Mr Collins exclaimed, his voice swelling with unrestrained ardour. "To meet the illustrious Mr Darcy of Pemberley, a gentleman renowned across the breadth of England for his impeccable lineage and noble character – ah, what an unmerited honour I am bestowed here in humble Meryton!" He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, his expression alight with fervour. "Allow me to convey, sir, with the utmost reverence, that your esteemed aunt, Lady Catherine, my most revered benefactress, and your dear cousin, the incomparable Miss de Bourgh, were in the very pink of health and the highest of spirits upon my departure but yesterday!"

Darcy was about to answer when it turned out that the parson was not finished; he continued with undeterred enthusiasm.

"I find myself compelled to believe, sir," he said, "that such tidings, humble as they are, might offer some measure of comfort to a gentleman of your stature and sensitivity. And how privileged am I to be the humble vessel of this news! I have longed to perform some small service to you, sir, as a means of repaying my unworthy debt to your noble family."

Mr Darcy's expression hovered somewhere between amusement and exasperation, his brow arching as he regarded the absurdly effusive clergyman. With a curt nod, he finally turned back to Elizabeth, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Miss Elizabeth, may I have the pleasure of escorting you?" he inquired as Mr Collins, undeterred, stood beside them, beaming with self-importance, seemingly prepared to bow at a moment's notice.

She put her hand on his arm without thinking. In the next moment, he directed her to his friend and sister. Elizabeth was aware that he had basically given the "cut direct"[1] to the gentleman they had just met.

[1] Openly ignore someone, a sign of a high level of disrespect

Chapter 16 - toward the end

She was a bit taken aback but nodded.

"Truthfully," he began, shifting uneasily, "I had not realised that my attentions to you were quite so…apparent, especially to others. It seems I may have been rather careless. The truth is, this manner of mine – well, I suppose you could say I am naturally inclined to enthusiasm. When I enjoy someone's company, it can be difficult for me to temper my actions or, indeed, to prevent my fondness from becoming obvious. I am sure many in London have come to view my ways as inconsequential. The young ladies there – well, I imagine most of them look on me as little more than a friendly, familiar face at gatherings, perhaps someone too fond of lively company to be entirely serious." He gave a sheepish smile, and a hint of colour touched his cheeks.

Jane did not know how to take this confession. It was not encouraging. "Are you suggesting that I should not do so either?" She looked at him with trepidation. Suddenly, she did not want to be disappointed in him.

He looked her in the eye. "I hold you in the highest regard, Miss Bennet. There is something special about you. You are beautiful, of course, but you are kind and graceful, and I also like talking to you. I find our conversations…meaningful, in a way I did not expect. There is a quality about you that I find rare. Yet I am haunted by the fear that I may have been too forward. I never wished to place you in an untenable or compromising situation. We scarcely know each other, and I would not presume…"

"I see, Mr Bingley."

Chapter 17 - beginning

After the guests left, Mr Bennet exited his sanctuary and gently approached his wife. As they had agreed, he asked her for a walk. He cleared his throat, feeling uncharacteristically uncertain. "Mrs Bennet, Fanny," he began softly, "might I persuade you to join me for a walk?"

Their children were watching them with wide eyes, and they all speculated on the meaning of this almost unprecedented event. They dressed for the chilly weather, and Mr Bennet led his wife for a walk that would change their relationship forever.

They finally engaged in conversation. Mrs Bennet looked at him, cautious at his unaccustomed attentiveness. "And what has brought on this change in you, Mr Bennet?" she asked, half-jesting but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

"Change, you say?" He managed a small, wry smile. "Perhaps it is more a realisation. I fear I have been…remiss in my duties as your husband, my dear. The fault is mine entirely." It was not that Mr Bennet changed overnight, but his conversation with his wife forced him out of his comfortable cocoon. He apologised for his neglect. He acknowledged his wife's claims of disrespect. "I see now that I should have treated you with more regard and understanding. I failed to see how my absence wounded you."

Mrs Bennet softened at his words, her initial astonishment giving way to tentative warmth. "Well, Mr Bennet, I daresay I am not without my faults. I know I can be…a trifle excitable. But I never imagined I would hear such words from you. I must admit, it is a welcome surprise."

Though hesitant, Mr Bennet felt a flicker of hope as he walked beside his wife, wondering if this moment might signify a new beginning. From this day forth, he resolved to join his family more frequently; they revived their long-abandoned tradition of having tea together in the afternoon, and he began to visit her in her chamber with greater frequency. One could say quite often. They also used these private moments to discuss matters. They hardly noticed that while Mr Bennet patiently explained things to his wife, Mrs Bennet calmed, and the need for her salts reduced significantly.

With time, they found a new equilibrium.

***

Chapter 17 - further on

Darcy sat opposite Elizabeth and her partner at the same table. He was satisfied that Miss Elizabeth did not much care for the man.

The captain leaned in, his smile a bit too familiar. "Miss Bennet, a woman as charming as yourself must surely have a legion of admirers."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, her expression serene. "Indeed, Captain, I find admirers much like pigeons in the square – persistent but best kept at a respectable distance."

She offered him a sweet smile, tilting her head slightly. "Of course, the more determined ones often mistake politeness for encouragement, though I'm sure such confusion would never occur with a man of your understanding."

The captain's grin faltered ever so slightly, and Darcy, watching from across the table, had to stifle a laugh, admiring her finesse.

He cherished every lingering glance she gave him during supper, each one a precious, fleeting gift that stirred him. He did not want to think of his departure – not just yet. Her eyes, soft and searching, would meet his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, sending an unspoken message that seemed to bridge the space between them. Every flicker of her gaze, every slight tilt of her head in his direction, felt like a quiet acknowledgement, a reassurance that he was not alone in feeling this magnetic pull. He drank in these moments with a hunger – these were his last moments in her presence.

The only embarrassing thing at dinner was her dear sister, Mary. She was so hungry for attention that she performed in front of the guests without being explicitly asked. His father had to step in quietly. He pulled her away from the piano with the excuse that she should let the other girls also display their talents. There was nothing for it, as she would have continued otherwise. That would have been a most unpleasant experience after such a splendid dinner. Elizabeth felt sympathy for her sister but was grateful for his father's intervention.

***

As the dances started again, Mr Darcy claimed Elizabeth's hand for their dance. The dances of the time were usually highly choreographed, involving many dancers in a formation. Because of this, if the skipping and swirling were not enough, one could not claim one's partner as they wished; they had to share the partners with others.

Darcy and Elizabeth danced silently but looked into each other's eyes even when partnering with another; they could not look away. They relished the small touches they were offered. As their hands brushed in the dance, an electric current seemed to pulse between them, igniting a longing neither dared to acknowledge. Darcy silently cursed the social convention of gloves, his fingers longing to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his own. The soft barrier of fabric felt almost cruel, depriving him of the sensation he craved – her hand's simple, unadulterated touch. Every brush of her gloved fingers against his only heightened his desire, leaving him with a restless ache for a connection unmediated by propriety.

They felt everything with an intensity that seemed to vibrate in the very air between them. In that fleeting moment, the rest of the room faded to insignificance; there was no one else, nothing else, only the two of them drawn into each other's orbit. They moved as if in a private dance, circling, searching, and finding an unspoken rhythm together. Even the air felt alive, charged with an energy that crackled with anticipation, binding them in a silent understanding – there was no need for words.

Chapter 20

***

"Caroline, Louisa! What are you doing here?" Bingley stopped in his tracks as he saw them coming in through the main entrance.

Bingley was just about to meet Darcy at Angelo's[1]. He wanted to go to the club, but Darcy had sent a message that he wished for exercise. He almost did not believe his eyes when he saw his sisters.

"Hello, Charles. Your sister, Caroline here, decided that the country air was too much for her and closed Netherfield."

Bingley stood there with a frozen posture. The colour drained from his face as he struggled to process his brother-in-law's words. "I beg your pardon!" He turned to Caroline, his expression dark as a gathering storm. "You – you closed Netherfield? Why? What do you mean? I was going back there…next week. Did you not understand that? And – and what happened to the staff?" Bingley's voice grew taut, frustration building up with each question.

"Oh, Charles. So many questions!" Caroline released a small, affected sigh and delicately smoothed an invisible crease from her travelling gown. "We wished to join you here. Hertfordshire simply became insupportable." She cast a fleeting glance at her reflection in a nearby mirror, carefully adjusting a stray curl. "Mr Darcy has left, too. He could not leave quickly enough, right after you, in fact. There is nothing there for us, Brother. It will be better this way." She smiled sweetly, tilting her head as she clasped her hands before her. "It will be nice to relax in some proper society, then Christmas will be here, and in the New Year, the parliament opens,[2] and how much fun it will be in London then!"

Bingley's nostrils flared, his mouth pressing into a hard line. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to calm down before he lost his composure entirely. His tone was low when he spoke, each word biting with emphasis. "Caroline, it was not your decision to make! How am I supposed to become a proper landowner if I am here? Is that not what we all wanted? For me to settle? If we want to start the planting season right, many decisions must be made. Or did you think to abandon Hertfordshire altogether?"

Caroline's eyes flickered with surprise, but she quickly masked it, shrugging as though it were the most trivial matter. "I do not think Hertfordshire is the place for you."

Bingley's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with incredulity. "Why, Caroline? Why do you think you will make that decision for me? Enlighten me, then; why is Hertfordshire not for me? Caroline? Because it is an easy distance from London? Because it is a lovely house with fertile land with plenty of sunshine? Because it is in a small, convenient, and welcoming community? And as you know, the lease is for at least a year. Would you have me waste the money I spent? Which part of it says it must not be Hertfordshire?"

Caroline faltered, looking momentarily flustered. "Oh…hmm…well, we are here now, and the house is closed. So why do we not enjoy a nice dinner this evening, and then we can look into what entertainment is available?"

Bingley counted to three in his head, forcing himself to keep his voice even. "I am going out now. I do not have time for this. This conversation is not over." He turned sharply to Louisa and Hurst, his expression a mix of chagrin and accusation. "Why would you let Caroline do this?"

Louisa averted her gaze, clearly uncomfortable. Hurst, with a resigned shrug, muttered: "You know how she can be. She had already done everything when we were told that we were leaving… Charles, Louisa and I are not staying in town; we are to home, our estate," Hurst answered with a shrug.

Caroline let out a dismissive huff and turned, beginning her retreat up the stairs. Bingley's eyes followed her, a turbulent mix of anger, disappointment, and resignation crossing his face as he watched her retreat.

***

[1] Famous fencing and boxing establishment in London at the time, see story website

[2] The Parliament used to bring the families to London. In 1812, the Parliament opened on the 7th January

Chapter 25 - added to the end of the chapter

Once their parents left, the sisters sat in stunned silence, each processing the news. Elizabeth broke the quiet. "Did any of you ever imagine that Father had planned this so carefully?"

Jane shook her head. "Not in the least. I feel so guilty now. We doubted him, yet he has provided for us in ways we never saw."

Lydia, ever irrepressible, sighed dramatically. "Well, I am glad of it, but I still think it's cruel to make me wait until I'm twenty-one to marry! Why should I be so very…mature before I may enjoy any of it?"

Mary spoke up with a rare smirk. "Which is why Father urged us to keep this private, Lydia. Imagine if every suitor in Meryton heard of our fortunes now."

Kitty nodded, her usual mischief replaced with a solemnity that surprised them all. "Father was right to trust us with this. I want to show him that we are worth his efforts."

Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane, feeling a mix of guilt and gratitude. "Father rarely shows his feelings, yet tonight, he proved his care in such a significant way. I am ashamed to think I ever doubted him."

Jane squeezed her hand, a warmth in her smile. "Then let us repay him by keeping his confidence and showing him our appreciation."

The sisters shared a moment of mutual understanding, each feeling closer than before. They had all been given more than a dowry – they had been given proof of their father's silent devotion, and they were resolved to honour it.