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Chapter Text

Fitzwilliam Darcy awoke to an unfamiliar but entirely pleasing sensation of warmth. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the gentle light of the morning, which filtered through the curtains of Pemberley, setting the room aglow. A slight breeze wafted through an open window, complemented by the sound of rustling leaves and the soothing song of birds. Darcy smiled, taking a deep breath of contentment, only to inhale the exquisite scent of lavender. The sweet aroma encompassed him, wrapping itself firmly around his heart. It was his favorite fragrance, and it belonged to his favorite person. 

He suddenly became aware of the weight on his shoulder, as if the mere thought of her brought her into existence. Turning his head slightly, he was met with the most heartwarming sight. There, snuggling into his shoulder, was Elizabeth. 

His wife. 

He could feel her soft breath on his neck, hear her susurrous sighs. She looked so peaceful. So content. He smiled as she mumbled and tucked herself further into his embrace. He observed her in quiet adoration, his hand tenderly stroking her bare back. Her long, dark tresses cascaded down the side of her shoulder, spreading along the bedclothes in disarray. Her porcelain skin was soft and warm to the touch, contrasting wonderfully with the gentle zephyr from the window. Her round cheeks were tinged with pink, and her plump lips were slightly parted, begging to be kissed. As her small nose twitched, Darcy’s smile widened. She was perfection itself. Every part of her was so beautifully crafted. There was, in Darcy’s mind, only one thing wrong with the picture before him - he could not see her eyes. Those captivating, mesmerizing, magnificent eyes. That, however, could be remedied. He simply needed to open them. 

Darcy began to pepper Elizabeth’s face with kisses. He started with her brow and slowly made his way down to her nose, brushing his fingers along her silky skin as he went. A suppressed giggle alerted him to the fact that she was awake, but her eyes remained closed. She knew what he wanted and had, true to her character, decided to make him work for it. With a smirk, he continued his assault, moving from her nose to her cheek, and then to her jaw. Upon hearing another giggle, Darcy changed his course. He kissed his way back up her face, delighting in the quick breaths of her ill-concealed laughter. 

“Are you awake, Mrs. Darcy?” He whispered, pressing his lips against the shell of her ear.

“Hmm,” Elizabeth sighed, biting her lip. “I have yet to receive the proper encouragement.” 

Darcy grinned and teasingly placed a kiss at the edge of her mouth, chuckling at her huff of indignation. Still, she refused to open her eyes.

“That,” she remarked, “is not the correct way to awaken Sleeping Beauty.” 

“Ah, forgive me, my dear. I have not read the tale in some time.” 

“Well, I can not have my husband forgetting such important details. Perhaps I should remind you.” 

Before he could even form a response, Elizabeth pressed their lips together. Her hands wove through his hair as his hands made their way to the back of her neck. Darcy held his wife as close as possible, relishing in the contact. Her lips were soft, sweet, and so very warm, much like the rest of her. He groaned when their tongues met, engaging in their much-practiced dance. He could feel her melt into him, soft skin moulding pleasantly into soft skin. They were one - whole. When the need for air finally separated them, Elizabeth rolled on top and began to place soft kisses upon his neck. One of her hands remained in his hair, running through it in a soothing manner, while the other tantalizingly trailed after her mouth. Flooded with warmth and overcome by affection, Darcy exhaled and ran his hands along her thighs. As she pressed adoring kisses across the expanse of his bare chest, he couldn’t help but think that the feeling of contentment he had experienced upon waking up paled in comparison to this - here was a woman who truly loved him, and there was no sweeter feeling. 

Finally, Darcy was able to meet her eyes. Those enchanting emerald eyes held him captive, and he was a willing prisoner. She sent him a radiant smile, and he could do naught but return it. 

“Goodmorning, my love,” Elizabeth whispered, eyes dancing with mirth. 

“A good morning, indeed,” he grinned.  

She laughed as she nestled against him once again, and he held her tightly. Were it possible to die of happiness, Darcy was certain his heart would stop beating at that very moment. But it did not. His heart belonged to her. As long as she was beside him, he would live on. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“And I love you, Fitzwilliam.” 

-----

Fitzwilliam Darcy awoke with a start, shooting up in his bed as the cold air enveloped him. The sky outside was sunless, dominated by gray clouds, painting the room in darkness. The only thing that could be heard through the open window was the soulless howl of the wind, and the only thing that could be felt was the bitter chill that accompanied it. Darcy impetuously reached beside him, seeking comfort, but he was met only with emptiness. He let out a shaky breath. There was no comfort. There was no warmth. There was no wife. There was no Elizabeth. 

He was alone. 

Darcy buried his head in his hands. It had been another dream - another cruel, tortuous reminder of his gravest mistake. He dreamt of Elizabeth Bennet every night. Sometimes, he dreamt of the Assembly at which he’d first laid eyes on her. What would have happened had he actually shown due respect to those in attendance? What would have happened had he not uttered the single most egregious falsehood of his life? Sometimes, he dreamt of the gathering at Lucas Lodge. What would have happened had she actually accepted his hand for the dance? What would have happened had he attempted to look anything but displeased? Sometimes, he dreamt of Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield. What would have happened had he actually made an effort to talk with her? What would have happened had he actually let her see his true, unguarded self? Sometimes, he dreamt of the Netherfield Ball. What would have happened had he actually explained Wickham’s foul character then? What would have happened had he actually watched Miss Bennet and Bingley with an unbiased eye? Oftentimes, he dreamt of her rejection at Hunsford almost two months ago - good God, had it only been two months? What would have happened had he actually explained how much she meant to him - how much he loved her? What would have happened had he actually behaved like a gentleman ? Oh, how those words haunted him!

As agonizing as such dreams were, however, they were nothing to the kind he had just awoken from - those dreams cut him to his very core. He could bear her anger. He could bear her disdain. He could bear her disgust. What he could not bear was a brief glimpse into the happiness which could have been his...those dreams in which his Elizabeth tells him that she loves him; those dreams in which he can kiss and hold her; those dreams in which she is happy to receive his affection and return it…to have a taste of that, only to have it cruelly ripped away come morning, was torture. Every time he woke, he hoped, prayed even, that it was true - that somehow, someway, she was right beside him. But it was never true, and it never would be. Whenever consciousness returned, she disappeared.  

Darcy could feel the tears running down his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had foolishly thrown away his only chance at future felicity. Did he not have the right to cry over that? He had cried when he lost his mother. He had cried when he lost his father. And now, he had lost his wife, albeit in a different manner. Though, to him, it may as well be the same. He would never see her again. Was there really any great difference? She was lost to him. 

Darcy had returned to Pemberley in the hopes that its familiar walls would ease his aching heart, but, if anything, they had only brought him more pain. For the first time in his life, Darcy was struck by the emptiness of his home. Halls that once seemed grand now seemed barren. Rooms that once provided comfort now only mocked him with their silence. Even Pemberley’s vast grounds brought him little pleasure. How could they when he knew Elizabeth would never see them...that she would never enjoy them by his side?

The memories within the great house, which had once made him smile, now only served to tighten the band around his heart. Darcy remembered his parents’ marriage. He remembered their happiness. George and Anne Darcy had a passionate, unequivocal, all-consuming love for one another. When asked about their felicity in marriage, George Darcy would joke that he had simply married his closest friend. It was always said in a teasing manner, as was his wont, but everyone knew it to be true. Fitzwilliam’s parents had been partners in every sense of the word. Partners in love. Partners in life. Partners in business. Partners in crime, as his father often jested, which was always followed by a gentle slap to the shoulder from his mother. 

Although it was a good match by the standards of the Ton - with George Darcy being from an ancient, wealthy family and Lady Anne Darcy being the daughter of an Earl - his parents had married for love. They held each other in the deepest respect. As a result, Fitzwilliam grew up in a rather unconventional environment. 

His father was more than just a wealthy gentleman who sat back and watched his steward manage his estates. George Darcy was an attentive, heavily-involved Master and landlord. If there was a problem with a tenant, he, usually accompanied by his wife, would set out himself to check on them. If there was an issue on the farm, he would accompany his men to see it fixed, even when the job promised to be onerous and dirty. George Darcy’s wealth and station would have allowed for indolence, yet he refused to delegate every task as many others in the first circles did. Despite his involvement, he never played the role of overbearing Master, and he treated everyone who worked for him with kindness and respect. 

-----

George Darcy, caked in mud up to his knees, led a nine-year-old Fitzwilliam away from the newly-born lamb. It had rained heavily the previous night, and one of Pemberley’s sheep had kindly decided to give birth at the crack of dawn while stuck in a large pool of mud. The decision was not appreciated by the farmhands, who, upon realizing they didn’t have the numbers to deal with the situation so early in the morning, called for the Master of Pemberley. 

As always, George Darcy was quick to respond and chose to bring his beloved son along to assist - it was never too early to learn how to lend a helping hand to one’s staff. They discussed their plan of action and ultimately decided that the lamb would have to be delivered before the sheep could be freed. 

Fitzwilliam Darcy watched with rapt attention as his father and the two other men removed the young animal from its mother - his father instructed him throughout the process on which parts were supposed to come out first to ensure the safety of the baby. Fitzwilliam was then handed the little creature and guided back to the barn by one of the farmhands, while the remaining farmhand and his father dug the sheep out of its precarious position in the mud.  

As they approached the house, Fitzwilliam was surprised to see his father head towards the servants’ entrance. 

“Why are we going this way, Papa?” 

George Darcy smiled at his son. “We will make less of a mess if we go through here. We do not want to create unnecessary work for the servants, now do we?”

“Aunt Catherine says that’s their job.”

“Of course she would say that,” his father muttered under his breath. “It is our job to help them where we can, Fitzwilliam. They are people, the same as us. Every person - every living thing - deserves respect. Besides, no good can come from having staff who despise you.” 

Once inside, the Darcy boys were met by Lady Anne, who was smiling in amusement. 

“And what, my dear,” George Darcy asked, affectionately kissing his wife’s cheek, “do you find so diverting?”

“Oh, nothing at all, my love,” she responded, giving them both a once-over. “Only that you saw it fit to take our son out so early in the morning and return him to me in such a state.” 

“Oh, it was exciting, was it not my boy?” His father exclaimed, ruffling Fitzwilliam’s hair. 

The young boy grinned up at his parents. “It was fun! The lamb was so small, and it was all muddy!” 

“Yes,” his mother laughed, “I can see that. I am glad all went well. A bath has been drawn for the both of you. Now, go get cleaned up. I have asked Mr. Crider to make some chocolate* as a reward for your hard work this morning.” 

With that, Fitzwilliam raced up the stairs, leaving behind his chuckling parents. 

-----

His mother, Lady Anne Darcy, had done more than make menus, host parties, and refurnish rooms. George Darcy involved his wife in every facet of managing the estates and business. He was rarely alone in the study, his wife being his most reliable business partner and confidant. If there was a decision to be made, they made it together. Fitzwilliam was certain that his mother had been able to run an estate more efficiently than half of the landowners of his acquaintance, a sentiment his father shared and often joked about. In fact, Lady Anne had been just as involved with teaching Fitzwilliam about his duties as Master of Pemberley as his father had been. He owed much of what he now knows to her. 

-----

A six-year-old Fitzwilliam Darcy ran excitedly into his parents’ study. Robert Millings, his father’s valet, had shown the young Master how to tie a cravat, and the boy was eager to show his handiwork to his parents. Upon entering the study, however, he found only his mother, pen in hand. 

Lady Anne looked up at the abrupt entrance and burst out laughing at the sight. There stood her son, beaming, wearing a sloppily-tied cravat round his neck that was entirely too big for him. It looked rather more like a bib than a common clothing item.

“My, don’t you look handsome, Fitzwilliam!” She exclaimed in amusement, lifting her son onto the desk. 

“I tied it myself,” the boy stated proudly.

“No, surely you’re joking, my dear!” She feigned surprise. 

“I did! Mr. Millings taught me how.” 

“My goodness! You’re growing up much too fast.”

Fitzwilliam squared his shoulders at the compliment, smiling widely at his mother. “Where is Papa?” 

“One of the horses has been limping as of late, and he went to check on it.”

“It’s not one of the Thoroughbreds, is it?” He asked worriedly. His father talked often of his prized Thoroughbreds, though Fitzwilliam was still unsure as to the difference between them and the other horses. All he knew was that those particular horses were important to his father and, therefore, were important to him.

Lady Anne smiled at her son’s question. “No, thankfully. It is one of the Cleveland Bays. We fear too much time in the mud has resulted in tendinitis.”

Fitzwilliam nodded slowly, attempting to retain the information for future use. “Are you going over the books?” He asked, looking down at the long list of names and numbers. His parents often did it together, though the boy did not yet understand the process. 

“I am. I do not know how long your father is going to be, so I figured I would get some work done.” 

“Aunt Catherine says it is not the Mistress’ job to do that.”

“Of course she would say that,” his mother muttered under her breath. Even when Sir Lewis de Bourgh was alive, her sister had done little personally to help with Rosings. Catherine preferred to bark out orders and control the lives of those around her to an unconscionable degree. Lady Anne’s eager participation in the day-to-day running of Pemberley had long been a point of contention between the two women. However, Lady Catherine found herself outnumbered. Their brother, Andrew, agreed with Anne, also having a wife who yearned to be involved in the running of Craigspeak Hall, home of the Fitzwilliams. 

“Do not listen to Aunt Catherine on such things,” Fitzwilliam’s mother warned. “I enjoy working with your father, just as Aunt Penny enjoys working with Uncle Andrew. Any woman of sense and intelligence would go positively mad if she were forced to do nothing but act as hostess and decorate rooms.” 

Fitzwilliam nodded once again. His parents seemed to disagree with much of what Aunt Catherine said. Lady Anne chuckled at her son’s intent look - the look he donned when trying to catalogue something in his memory.

“Would you like to go over the names of our tenants while we wait for your father? I am sure he will want to see your cravat.” 

The young boy grinned at the reminder of his latest accomplishment and readily agreed. He was always happy to learn from his mother, and she was always happy to teach him.

-----

George and Anne Darcy had taken a similar approach to parenting. The love they had for each other, as well as their dedication to personally managing their estates, all translated into how they raised their children. They were attentive, doting parents who had decided even before they were married that any children they were blessed with would be cared for and loved by them and not by a servant or nursemaid. When, two years into their marriage, Anne discovered that she was with child, the Darcys had the Mistress’ chambers turned into a nursery. They wanted their children to be close, and Anne had not used her chambers even once in the course of their marriage. They had separate dressing rooms, of course, but they both slept in the Master’s chambers, which came to be known by the staff as the ‘couple’s chambers’ to avoid confusion.

When Fitzwilliam was born, George and Anne did everything themselves. If he was hungry, Anne nursed him herself. If he cried in the middle of the night, George and Anne took turns tending to him. They showered little Fitzwilliam with all their love and attention, and he very quickly became the light of their life. It may be considered unfashionable to form such a close bond with one’s child, especially in their circles, but George and Anne could not have cared less. 

In truth, the Ton’s view of children revulsed them both. Children amongst the first circles were often treated as trophies. They would be paraded about the drawing-room for a short time before being sent back to their chambers, barely seeing their parents unless they were needed to impress guests. There was such coldness and distance amidst the families of the Ton , and the Darcys were certain that it made the children more prone to vice. How else would they behave when they grew up with so little love? They were raised to believe that they had no one to please but themselves. 

There was also, of course, the Ton’s view on heirs. Amongst the first circles, the more children you had, the better. The phrase ‘an heir and a spare’ was often thrown around, and the sentiment left both George and Anne almost sick to their stomachs. How could someone disregard their own child simply because they were not born first? Or because they were not born a boy? This was, again, another topic on which Lady Catherine had much to say. 

-----

A disconcerted ten-year-old Fitzwilliam watched as his Aunt Catherine’s carriage pulled out of Pemberley. He had overheard her arguing with his mother about the misfortune of having only one child, and, although his mother had fiercely defended him, he could not help but feel a bit insecure. 

George Darcy eyed his son, sensing his discomfiture. “You look as though you need to speak about something.”

Fitzwilliam simply nodded, not making eye-contact. 

“Let us go up to the study.” 

George Darcy guided his inexplicably quiet son to the chairs by the fireplace and jokingly asked, “Can I get you a glass of port for your troubles?” 

The older man chuckled as Fitzwilliam wrinkled his nose in disgust. He had allowed the curious boy to take a small sip a while back, and it had certainly left an impression. 

“What is bothering you, my boy?” 

Fitzwilliam gazed at the fire, unsure how to ask such a question. “Are you disappointed that you have only me?” 

“Good God!” His father exclaimed. “Of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I…,” he trailed off, looking sheepishly at his father. “I overheard Aunt Catherine speaking to Mama. She said that you would grow cross with her if she did not give you another boy…” 

George Darcy went red with anger, a sight rarely seen by his son. He clenched his fist and swallowed harshly, reminding himself that such a display of fury would do nothing to ease the boy’s concerns.

“I would never - never - be cross with your mother for something such as that. I would love her the same had we twenty children or none at all. I would love her had we no boys and all girls. Your mother and I love you dearly, Fitzwilliam. Although we would be thrilled to have more children, we want for nothing. I beg you, never let Aunt Catherine make you think we are displeased with you in any way. Truly, we could not be happier.”

“But what about Pemberley?” 

“While I would always love for Pemberley to stay within the Darcy name, there is no use worrying about that which we have so little control over. If God intends for this great house to move on, so be it.” 

George Darcy embraced his dear son. It hurt to see him so unsure of himself. “I don’t want you to worry about such things. All you need to know is that I love your mother, and we both love you, no matter what.” 

“I love you, too,” Fitzwilliam whispered, urging himself to think no more of Aunt Catherine’s words. His parents loved him, and he loved them. That was all that mattered. 

-----

George and Anne Darcy did eventually get their second child, but it came at a great cost. Lady Anne’s pregnancy was difficult, and she was confined to bed for the majority of it. Her husband and son were at her side almost constantly. Both George and Anne tried, for Fitzwilliam’s sake, to remain calm, but they knew something was wrong. At first, Anne was convinced she would lose the baby. However, as time ticked on, the baby grew stronger while she grew weaker. On the eve of Georgiana’s birth, they were faced with the reality of their situation. Anne would not survive. 

And she did not. 

Not four and twenty hours after giving birth to a small but healthy baby girl, Lady Anne Darcy passed away, surrounded by the Fitzwilliams, as well as her husband, son, and new daughter, who George Darcy held tightly to his chest. Lady Catherine was the only one who could not be bothered to make the trip - a fact which left an indelible mark on her relationship with the rest of the family. There were many tears, though everyone present thanked God that they got the chance to say goodbye. 

George Darcy was not the same after his beloved wife’s death. While he was still an affectionate, doting father and an attentive Master and landlord, there was a sadness about him that had not been there before. The entire house could feel it acutely. In truth, George Darcy was in the depths of despair, and the only thing keeping him afloat was the love of his children. He had promised Anne that he would care for Georgiana just as they had cared for Fitzwilliam. And, although he no longer had her assistance, he kept his promise. 

-----

A twelve-year-old Fitzwilliam Darcy awoke his sister’s cries in the nursery. He hated hearing her cry. He hated that she didn’t have a mother. He hated that he no longer had a mother. Fighting back tears, he got out of bed and crept to her room. His father was already there, of course, attempting to rock the poor child back to sleep.  

“Is she well?” Fitzwilliam whispered, walking to the sad pair.

George sent his son a small smile. “Yes, my boy. She just needed changing.” 

The younger Darcy watched as his sister’s eyes began to close, then shifted his gaze to his father. He looked so tired. Almost...broken. 

“I miss her,” Fitzwilliam muttered, the comment almost inaudible. 

“As do I,” George responded, countenance full of melancholy. 

“I...Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Always.” 

Fitzwilliam hesitated, unsure if his question, which had been eating at him for months, would cause his father more pain. Steeling himself, he asked, “Would you have married Mama had you known this was going to happen?” 

His father’s answer was instantaneous. “Yes.” Seeing the boy’s questioning gaze, George Darcy swallowed the lump in his throat. “I would have married your mother had I known I would only get one day with her. You will see, someday, what I mean...there is pain, but the love makes it worth it, makes it...bearable.” 

-----

That was the most painful memory for the now twenty-eight-year-old Fitzwilliam Darcy to ruminate on. While they all felt like a punch to the gut, as he knew he would never experience the happiness his parents had, that memory, in particular, was a knife to the chest. His father had been able to temper his sorrow with the reminder of his wife’s love. Fitzwilliam didn’t have that luxury. The woman he had lost his heart to had never even loved him. 

A soft cry from the foot of the bed brought Darcy back to the present. His dog, Aldebaran (Baran, for short), was watching him intently. The canine could sense his Master’s grief and could do naught but mourn with him, though he knew not for what. Darcy reached out to his dear dog, scratching him behind the ear. He wished he could explain his despondency to Baran - tell him that there was nothing he could do. 

He watched as Baran stretched out on the bed - a bed which was far too large for just one man and his dog. How many times had he dreamt of Elizabeth laying there with him? He seemed to imagine her everywhere in Pemberley - its halls were haunted by the memory of a woman who had never even stepped foot in them. The library, he knew, would be her favorite room. There were more books in there than any person could read in one lifetime, though he was certain that wouldn’t stop her from trying. She would have every curtain in the room open, and they would sit together on the sofa by the fireplace, either reading separately in companionable silence, simply happy to be in each other’s company, or taking turns reading to one another. 

Musings such as these were becoming quite the recurrence - every time Darcy entered a room, he imagined what Elizabeth would do and where she would go. What would she like best about the room? Where would she like to sit? Would she tease him about any of the decor? These thoughts would plague him until he was once again struck by the reality that Elizabeth would never actually set foot in the room - she had no desire to be his wife...she did not want to live with him. With that reminder, he would close the door and pray that he would awaken the next day with a less active imagination.  

As Darcy touched the cold floor beside his bed, his mind drifted to what he knew his favorite room would be - and his feet carried him there. Darcy, tailed by his companion, slowly made his way into the nursery, every movement bordering on painful - he had never before fully appreciated the extent to which emotional pain could manifest itself physically. 

His father had never reverted the nursery back into the Mistress’ chambers, stating that there was no Mistress and, therefore, no reason to do so. Fitzwilliam had considered having it turned back when he learned of Elizabeth’s presence at Rosings, but he stopped himself, hoping that she would be happy to share his chambers, just as his mother and father had. What a fool he was! 

Darcy was ashamed to think of how far he had planned their lives - he had thought of everything, down to the smallest detail. And all before even asking for her hand! Even just looking at the nursery now served to torment him, for it had been so frequent a topic of his reveries. 

In truth, he wanted children. 

Darcy had always loved children. He found them easier to converse with than adults, as he did not have to methodically choose every word he spoke - children did not read into everything, and they always spoke their minds, even at the worst of times. If only adults were half so honest as children! Darcy had, for the past few years, contented himself with being the much-beloved ‘Uncle Fitz’ to his young cousins. 

Lawrence and Elinor Fitzwilliam, the Viscount and Viscountess of Ashbourne, had been blessed with two children - five-year-old Vincent and four-year-old Juliana. Both children absolutely adored Darcy, and he loved them dearly. Although he knew he would eventually want children of his own, Darcy had been perfectly satisfied with his role of doting ‘Uncle.’ 

That is until he met Elizabeth. 

The thought of their children had haunted his dreams long before he even proposed to her. Much like his father, he didn’t care how many children they had - he just wanted a physical manifestation of their love - a boy or a girl. He wanted a mischievous, loving little child who would brighten his life, just as his parents had always described. Darcy imagined that Elizabeth would be an excellent mother. They would make the perfect team. Partners in everything, just like his parents. 

He often pictured himself returning to Pemberley after a business trip. His family would meet him at the gate, unwilling to wait until he entered the house. His child would dart into his awaiting arms, and he would toss them into the air, just as his father had done to him and Georgiana when they were young. His wife - his beautiful Elizabeth - would laugh joyfully at the sight and throw herself into his embrace, kissing him in greeting. She would tell him that she missed him and scold him for being gone too long. He would swear to take her and their child with him next time, as it pained him to be away. She would, in return, reward him with another kiss and the promise of even more come nightfall. Oh, how sweet such a vision was!

But it would never be. His abominable pride had ruined his every chance of experiencing such happiness. 

Darcy’s mind travelled to his memories once again. How disappointed his parents would be with him! They had treated everyone they met with kindness and respect, while Darcy had disdained everyone in Hertfordshire before he even met them. His father had recognized his mother as an equal, while Darcy had called Elizabeth inferior in his proposal . Elizabeth was just as intelligent as his mother, and yet Darcy had the audacity to believe that she would not make a wonderful Mistress of Pemberley. George Darcy had loved his wife and children unreservedly. Meanwhile, not only was Elizabeth unaware of Darcy’s deep regard for her, but she had thought he disliked her! What did that say about him? His parents, while proud of the Darcy name, actively fought against every sentiment Darcy had expressed in his ill-fated proposal. How had he strayed so far from the path they put him on? When had he become his Aunt Catherine? 

That thought alone tore what little remained of Darcy’s heart to pieces. His parents would have loved Elizabeth. They would have loved to see him happy. His mind was made up - if he could not marry Elizabeth, he would not marry at all. The thought of never having what his parents had...it crushed him. But he knew that Elizabeth was the only one who could give it to him. Perhaps one of Georgiana’s future children could be convinced to take up the Darcy name. If not, he would simply have to follow his father’s advice. If God intended for the Darcy name to end with him, so be it. 

A small whine broke from Baran as his ears perked up, and Darcy took it as a sign that the house was beginning to stir. He had to make himself presentable. Georgiana, being concerned for her brother’s deteriorating health, had invited the entire Fitzwilliam clan to stay at Pemberley indefinitely. While Darcy loved them dearly and knew they were only trying to help, their presence did nothing but remind him of what he had lost. His Uncle Andrew and Aunt Penny were almost as happily married as his parents had been. His cousin Lawerance and Elinor shared a similar union, and they were blessed with their two young children. The only person not happily married amongst the group was Richard. 

Nevertheless, Darcy knew he could not avoid them. They were there to help. They were family. 

The only family he would ever have. 

Chapter Text

The Countess of Matlock - Lady Penelope Fitzwilliam - or Penny, as her family called her, watched as a despondent Darcy walked into the breakfast parlor, eyes glued to the floor. Baran followed at his heels lethargically, his mood tending to mirror that of his Master. She shared an apprehensive look with her husband, The Earl of Matlock - Lord Andrew Fitzwilliam - as well as her two sons, Lawrence - the Viscount of Ashbourne - and Richard.

Though Darcy was often reserved in public, amongst close friends and family, his disposition was more akin to Richard’s. He would laugh and joke with them, play with the children, and make conversation. One could scarcely find better company, given he was comfortable around you. Now, however, something was very wrong. 

The Fitzwilliams and Darcys were as close as two families could be, yet, in the three weeks they had been at Pemberley, not one of them had gotten so much as a smile out of him. Not even Vincent and Juliana could break the man’s melancholy. Penny had never seen her dear nephew so altered. His almost bereaved manner reminded her of George’s after he had lost his wife - her sister-in-law, Anne. The resemblance was more distressing than she could put into words.

Even his appearance was similar - he looked almost sickly. He had lost weight, and there were dark bags under his woebegone eyes. His face, which now sported an ever-present pallor, was often unshaven, and there were times when Penny swore she could see tear-stains on his cheeks. He would sit lost in thought almost the entire time he was in company and would take his leave as soon as propriety allowed. Darcy was clearly a man in the depths of despair, yet he refused to speak of his problems - in fact, he barely spoke at all unless spoken to. What had happened? Why did he only seem to be getting worse? None of the Fitzwilliams wanted to pressure him into speaking on a subject he clearly wished to avoid, but something had to be done. They needed to know what troubled him.   

Penny watched as he sat down at the head of the table and stared at his food, making no move to eat it - an act that had become something of a habit for him. She looked imploringly towards Richard, who nodded quietly before addressing his cousin. 

“Well, Fitz, will you be joining us today?” He asked, attempting to sound jovial and unconcerned. 

Darcy blinked at him for a moment, trying to register the words. “Where?” 

“Fishing, man! We talked of it yesterday. Father, Lawrence, and I wish to head to the trout stream. The clouds have dispersed, and it would be a shame to spend such a lovely day inside.” 

Before Darcy could respond in the negative, the door burst open, and in walked Elinor - Lawrence’s wife - followed by their two giggling children. Richard saw his opportunity and lept at it. 

“You know, I am sure Vincent would love to join us. Would you like to come fishing with us, lad? You’re much too old to stay inside all day!” 

The five-year-old beamed, puffing out his chest at the compliment before running to his father. “Can I? Please? I swear I’ll be good, Papa!”

“Of course you can, my boy,” Lawrence responded, lifting his son onto his lap. “So long as your mother agrees, of course. What do you say, dear?”

Elinor smiled at her husband and son. “Ah, I am outnumbered! How could I refuse the two of you?”

Darcy’s chest squeezed painfully as he watched the domestic scene unfold before him, and the band around his heart tightened further. He could not help feeling envious of their happiness, much as he loved them. When Elinor bent down to kiss her husband’s cheek, Darcy stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor at a volume that had everyone’s attention on him.

“I beg you would excuse me,” he said brusquely, cursing his haste. “I have work to do.” With that, he walked quickly out the door, barely even acknowledging his sister as she entered the room. 

They all waited silently for a moment, listening to the retreating footsteps. With much trepidation, Georgiana asked, “What happened?” 

“I do not know,” Andrew responded, looking towards his wife. “Lawrence and Richard were simply speaking of fishing. Surely, that would not provoke such a display?” 

Georgiana glanced back towards the door. She had never seen her brother so disconsolate, and it dismayed her greatly. She had hoped that having the Fitzwilliams around would enliven him a bit, as she remembered the comfort they had provided after the death of their father. This time, however, their presence only seemed to make him retreat further into himself, and Georgiana could not account for it. As far as she knew, nothing had happened to cause a rift within their small family, and Aunt Penny certainly would have told her if something had occurred. 

“Is Uncle Fitz alright?” A small voice asked, breaking the silence.

Everyone turned toward four-year-old Juliana, who was gazing at the door with worried eyes. She was unused to such outbursts, especially from her Uncle Fitz, who was always everything cheerful around her and her brother. 

“Yes, dear girl,” her grandfather responded, rising from his chair. “However, I think your grandmother and I need to discuss some things with your parents. Vincent, would you mind putting our fishing trip on hold?” 

The young boy shook his head in response, though Andrew noticed the slight pout on his lips. 

“Good lad,” he praised warmly. “We can always count on you. Georgie, do you suppose Mrs. Annesley could watch the children for a bit? I would like to speak with the rest of you.” 

Andrew knew that Lawrence and Elinor detested leaving their children in the care of the staff, just as he had hated doing so with his sons when they were young. However, a discussion needed to be had, and Andrew did not think it appropriate for the young ones. 

Georgiana quickly called for her companion, who escorted the young children out, leaving her and Fitzwilliams alone. 

The room was quiet. Everyone knew, of course, what needed to be said, but none knew how to begin. The subject had been broached before to no avail. However, all could sense that they were at the tipping point. Darcy seemed to be edging towards the precipice of an abyss - something had to be done and done quickly. 

As the one to call the meeting, Andrew took it upon himself to speak first, though what he said was tremendously uninsightful. 

“We need to speak with Fitzwilliam.” 

“We’ve tried!” His wife exclaimed. “He will not tell us what is wrong.”  

“Richard,” Andrew addressed, “you said that you first noticed his strange behavior on your way back from Rosings, did you not?” 

“Yes, he was silent the entire ride back. At first, he seemed to be fuming, but it eventually morphed into his present sorrow. I could not even get him to make sport of Aunt Catherine’s ridiculous behavior! That seldom fails.” 

“You do not think Catherine did something, do you?” Penny asked. “I know your visits with her can be trying, but Fitzwilliam assured us that she could no longer get under his skin.”

“I doubt very much Aunt Catherine was the cause. Her deportment was no different than it usually is. If anything, she spoke even less to Darcy than is her wont, as she was quite busy trying to disparage her other guests.”

“The Collinses?” Georgiana asked. 

“Well, yes, but mostly Miss Elizabeth.”

At the mere mention of that name, realization dawned on the youngest of the room’s occupants. “Miss Elizabeth?” Georgiana cried. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? From Hertfordshire?” She had heard Richard speak quite fondly of a Miss Bennet at Rosings, but she had not yet made the connection. Miss Bennet was Miss Elizabeth - the Miss Elizabeth her brother had written about at Netherfield! Whenever Darcy mentioned a Miss Bennet, it was always in reference to the older sister. He had never referred to Miss Elizabeth as Miss Bennet. Therefore, Georgiana had assumed that it was Jane Bennet who had been at Rosings. But it was Elizabeth! Was that what he was so upset about? Had something happened with her? Or, God forbid, to her?

The Fitzwilliams were taken aback by Georgiana’s exclamation and watched the wild movement of her eyes as she pieced everything together. Finally, Penny asked, “Georgie, do you know Miss Elizabeth?” 

“Yes! I mean...no, not personally. Fitzwilliam often wrote of her while he was staying with Mr. Bingley at Netherfield. I feel as though I know her quite well.” 

“I do not think he has ever mentioned her to us,” Penelope commented, absorbed in thought. “However, the name sounds oddly familiar. I cannot think where I have heard it before.” 

“Indeed it does,” her husband agreed. “Perhaps he actually did speak of her, offhandedly, if nothing else.”

“I think we would remember such an occasion,” she rejoined. “We have been waiting for the right woman to come along for him!” 

Andrew and Penny knew how important it was that Darcy find someone to love. He had lost so much early in his life, and they had both experienced first-hand how such a bond could affect someone. There was a connection in marriage one could never quite achieve through blood alone. The person you married - a person who knew all of your faults and weaknesses - chose to be with you. They wanted to tie themself to you for eternity. It was not a connection bourne of obligation. That kind of love, when done right, was the most extraordinary experience a person could have. That kind of love left an everlasting mark. Andrew and Penny desperately wanted such happiness for their nephew, and they had no doubt that he would make an excellent husband. 

The trouble, however, was finding the right woman. Darcy needed someone who would love him in return. Him . Not his money. Not his station. Not his estate. Just him. To them, searching the Ton was out of the question. Penelope more-or-less knew every woman of a marriageable age in their London sphere, either by direct acquaintance or reputation. She was wholly unimpressed and, in some cases, appalled by what she saw. The majority of them were cloying sycophants, constantly striving to attach themselves to the wealthiest person in the room. Those that were genuinely sincere she found to be intolerably dull. The Earl and Countess counted themselves extraordinarily lucky that Lawrence had found Elinor, and they doubted that they would be so fortunate again. Their nephew needed someone who would excite and challenge him. He needed to marry someone he could be friends with. No, the women of the Ton would never do. 

“Did he seem to fancy this Miss Elizabeth, Richard?” Lawrence queried. 

“I daresay he did. He spent a great deal of time staring at her and seemed to go out of his way to be in her company. He often insisted that we call at Hunsford, and I know perfectly well that it was not to see that prat of a parson.” 

“What about her?” Georgiana asked, eyes full of curiosity. “Did she seem fond of him?” With the way her brother had spoken about Miss Elizabeth in his letters, Georgiana had been quite disappointed when he returned to Town without so much as a courtship.

“I...no, actually. I think she rather disliked Darcy.”

“Disliked him!?” Georgiana exclaimed, incensed at the news. “Why would she dislike him!?” 

Richard held his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling at his cousin. “I do not know why. She simply made a comment about how his behavior in Hertfordshire would shock and offend his relations.” 

“She did not elaborate further?” Penny questioned, quite surprised that her nephew would do anything to deliberately offend. 

“Only that he did not dance enough...though she seemed such a reasonable, intelligent woman - I can not imagine that she would be affronted by something so insignificant as that.”

“Do you think something happened with Miss Elizabeth? Is that why Fitzwilliam is so dispirited?” Elinor inquired. 

“Again, I do not know. I find it odd that, other than writing to Georgie, he would not mention her to any of us. You know he wishes to marry, after all.”

“Perhaps he was struggling with his feelings?” Andrew suggested. “Although, if he likes this girl, I can not imagine why he would. She is a gentleman’s daughter, is she not?”

Both Richard and Georgiana nodded, but Georgiana recalled something mentioned in one of her brother’s letters. 

“I believe he dislikes her family,” she stated. 

“Why? Have they done something?” Penny asked. Her nephew was a man of strong moral character, so it would certainly explain his hesitation. 

“I do not think so, no. He mentioned them only briefly, but I believe it was their behavior that disconcerted him. He said that the two eldest sisters were everything lovely, but the others were obstreperous. Apparently, their mother was even worse.” 

“But he would not be marrying her family!” Penelope argued. “Surely, that alone would not dissuade him?”

Richard thought silently for a moment. There was another reason that came to mind, though he had a hard time believing that his cousin would disregard his feelings because of it. He almost did not want to mention it to his family, as it sounded rather accusatory, but he figured that, if they were to help him, he had much better lay all his cards on the table. 

“I do know…,” Richard hesitated, biting his lip. “I know that her family is not wealthy. I believe she has a very small dowry. Lord knows Aunt Catherine broached the subject many times.” 

Penny started at her son’s words, looking at him in bewilderment. “You do not think he would care for that, do you? He already has far more money than he knows what to do with. What need has he for an heiress?” 

Richard grew silent once again, attempting to sort his thoughts. The Colonel loved his cousin, but he was not blind to his faults. He knew that, over the years, Darcy had grown to think ill of those not within his close family circle. Although he was an attentive, caring Master and an excellent landlord who respected his staff and tenants, Darcy tended to think himself above those outside of his sphere - or those who did not work for him, at least. If he did not know them, and they did not depend on him in some way, he rarely gave them a second thought.  

It had not always been that way. With each punch life threw at Darcy, he seemed to grow more distanced from those not among his close acquaintance, becoming increasingly misanthropic with every strike. When his mother died, he retreated into himself, taking comfort only in his remaining family. When his father died, and the responsibilities of the Darcy name fell to him, he did the same, though to an even greater extent. When Georgiana almost eloped with Wickham, Darcy seemed to lose all faith in those he did not know. Suddenly, no one was to be trusted, and people outside of his acquaintance were barely worth his notice. 

Life had not been easy for Fitzwilliam Darcy, and, with each hardship, he seemed to lose himself further, closing his heart to those outside his family. It was an easy trap to fall into. Having spent a great deal of time in the army, Richard had witnessed many a man become embittered to the world. When faced with hardship, especially the loss of life, it was often difficult to remember that the world itself was not to blame, nor were the people in it. Death, cruel as it seems, is natural, and the best way to honor those who have passed is by continuing to live a good life. Nothing good can come from being consumed by rancor and resentment.

Soon, Richard was awash with guilt. Why had he not said something to Darcy? He knew his cousin’s behavior, while understandable, was unpardonable. Yet, he kept silent. Darcy was a good man, but even the best of men could be led astray. What would have happened had he reprimanded him once or twice. Surely, Darcy would have listened, for he still greatly valued the opinions of his close friends and family. Could they have helped him? 

“Richard?” His mother asked, uneasy with his sudden change in demeanor. “What is wrong?” 

Richard looked at his family. Yes, they could have - should have - helped Darcy. They should have reminded him that the expectations held by the Ton were not the same as those held by his family. They, who knew how good he truly was - how amiable he could be amongst friends - should have encouraged amenity while discouraging his blatant disregard for the people around him. While Darcy would likely never be verbose amongst strangers, he could certainly be reservedly charming and polite.

It suddenly occurred to Richard that, since the death of his father, Darcy had been stumbling around blind. He had always excelled in his duties, so they all simply assumed he did not need guidance. But what person wouldn’t need guidance? Even the most senior members of the House of Lords turned to somebody . Yet, Darcy’s own family had left him to his own devices for so long, he no longer knew what they expected of him. He did not know who he was supposed to be. 

Finally, in a soft, quiet voice very much unlike his own, Richard spoke, “We have failed him.” 

“What do you mean?” Penny asked, her worry elevating to anxiety. How had they failed her nephew? 

“Think about his behavior, Mother. Surely, you can see the change! He disregards anyone unconnected to him, and we have said nothing. What is he supposed to think? In all likelihood, it has never occurred to him that we disagree with his behavior - behavior, I remind you, that is similar to that of the Ton , which we so often disparage. He has no way of knowing what we actually expect of him because we have been completely silent on the matter. We know he is a good man, but we have done nothing to encourage that behavior in the presence of others. Yes, we have failed him most miserably!” 

The room’s occupants stared at Richard, absorbing all he had said. Soon, every single person was racked with guilt. How had they been so blind? Why had they never said anything? They, who prided themselves on familial closeness, had effectively abandoned Darcy. They had not guided him or corrected him. Instead, they left him to fend for himself. The realization was equal parts mortifying and humbling. 

Andrew attempted to put the pieces together... There was a woman who his nephew liked - maybe even loved. She was not wealthy or well-connected, and Darcy did not know what they expected for him in marriage. The Earl of Matlock could come to only one conclusion.  

“He does not think we would approve of her.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Penny questioned, still reeling from her son’s speech. 

“He loves Miss Elizabeth, but he does not think we would approve of her connections and small dowry,” he explained, informing himself as much as his wife. 

“But that is not true! We want him to marry for love!” 

“Indeed we do, but how is he to know that? As Richard said, we have done nothing to discourage his recent behavior. He likely thinks we believe ourselves above a lowly country miss and would never accept her into the family. You know he would do anything for us, even at the risk of his own happiness.” 

Penelope shot up from her seat and slammed her hands onto the table. “Well then, we must straighten this out immediately. If he loves this girl, we will support him in his efforts to win her hand. We must tell him so.” 

Before her family could respond, Penny rang for a servant. “Please tell Fitzwilliam to meet us in the green drawing room on business that cannot be delayed.” 

“My dear,” Andrew said after the servant bowed and left, “you are a force to be reckoned with.” 

“I cannot believe we have been such poor relatives,” she said ashamedly. They truly had been shirking their duty to their family.  

Andrew sighed heavily and kissed his wife on the cheek. “There is no use ruminating on the past. We can only strive to better the future.”

“In the future, he will be happy,” Penny said with a firm resolve. 

“You have declared it, my love, and so it shall be.”

Chapter Text

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood stiffly, eyeing the door of the drawing-room. He did not know what his family wished to discuss. All he knew was that his Aunt had announced it in a way that brook no opposition. 

He was no fool. He could see that they were worried about him - they would not be here if they weren’t. Still, why should he confide in them? There was nothing they could do. Only one person had the power to mend Darcy’s broken heart, to heal his shattered spirit - and she despised him. 

The remembrance of Elizabeth’s vitriol very nearly made him retreat. Perhaps he could tell his Aunt that he felt unwell. Surely, she would release him from whatever obligation had crossed her mind. But, no, Darcy could not do that. There was a chance that the discussion pertained to the estates, either Pemberley or Craigspeak. If that was the case, he could not ignore the problem. Even in his miserable state, he would not become an indolent, apathetic Master.

With a fortifying breath, he gripped the door handle and entered the room. As his eyes moved from person to person, Darcy’s stomach twisted. Not only were his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins present, but so was his sister. Why would she be there? He studied their expressions; there was worry, pity, sympathy...What did they wish to speak about? 

Lady Penelope watched as her nephew entered the room. Though he hid it well, she could sense his disquietude. She saw his questioning gaze linger on Georgiana. Undoubtedly, his sister’s presence in the room betrayed the pretense that their discussion would relate to usual business. 

“Please sit, Fitzwilliam,” Andrew urged, gesturing towards the chair opposite the rest of the party. 

Darcy swallowed and obediently did as requested. “Is something the matter?” 

“Indeed,” his Aunt spoke. She hesitated briefly, wringing her handkerchief. She would not beat around the bush. “We must apologize, for we have failed you most miserably. I fear we have been poor relatives.” 

Darcy started at her words, utterly flummoxed. “I do not understand, Aunt. Has something happened? Did you do something?” 

“It’s more what we did not do,” His Uncle interjected, placing a comforting hand over his wife’s. 

Darcy squeezed the arms of his chair at the sight of the gesture. This reaction did not go unnoticed by his family, who, with their new-found knowledge, now understood such behavior. It distressed them to see him suffer so. 

“Yes,” Penny agreed, her visage one of compassion and pity. “We have not been clear in our expectations for you.”

“Expectations?” 

“We want you to marry for love and love alone.” 

Penelope, forthright woman that she was, had once again chosen not to mince words. However, upon viewing the etiolation of her nephew’s face, she began to think she had chosen wrong. 

Had Darcy actually eaten breakfast, he was certain he would have lost it then and there. His stomach - already twisted - knotted, and the knife in his chest dug deeper than ever before. Inundated with dread, he simply sat there, oblivious to the world around him. No one made a move to speak, as his family feared he would drop dead at the quietest of sounds. 

Then, at a speed which shocked the room’s occupants, Darcy lept from his chair and stalked to the window. He pressed a shaky palm against the cool glass, willing himself to stay upright. He could not speak. What was there to say? He had worried for nothing. Darcy thought that, had Elizabeth actually accepted him, he would have at least had to convince the Fitzwilliams of her worthiness. Now, here they were, telling him that they did not even hold the abhorrent ideologies he had so moronically expressed in his proposal.

They would have accepted her.

They would have loved her. How could they not?

The Fitzwilliams sat in stupefied silence. This was not the reaction they had been expecting. They expected his anger - had they not failed him? They expected his elation - had they not just given him their acceptance of the woman he loves? But there was none of that - no anger, no happiness. Instead, Darcy looked distraught...hopeless. What happened? Had they misread the situation? 

Knowing something needed to be done, though hardly knowing what to do, Penny quietly walked to her nephew and placed a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. She could feel his muscles tense at the contact but made no effort to remove it. When she realized he would not willingly turn around, she asked, “You love her, do you not? Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” 

Darcy spun at her words, staring at his Aunt with wide, unbelieving eyes. How did they know? He was certain he had not mentioned her. Had they asked Bingley? No, Bingley would never reveal such a thing. Had Caroline said something to his Aunt? No, Aunt Penny would never believe the words of Miss Bingley. Every explanation came up short. How could they possibly know? 

Sensing her brother’s thoughts, Georgiana spoke. “You mentioned her in your letters.” 

His letters? Oh, God...his letters. He had forgotten about those. Was he really so easy to read? Had his sister perceived his interest even when Elizabeth had not?

“Do you love her, Fitzwilliam?” His Aunt asked again. 

There could be only one answer. “Yes.” 

“And that is why you have been so listless lately? You did not think we would approve of her?” 

Darcy turned back to the window as a new wave of dread washed over him. He had thought that, yes, but it was not the reason for his despair. No, his despair was of his own infliction. How was he to explain his abominable behavior to his family? How could he tell them that his insufferable pride had driven away the only woman he would ever love?

Andrew, unable to read minds - though such an ability would certainly aid him in Parliament - took his nephew’s silence as confirmation. “My dear boy,” he stated, rising from his chair, “we simply want you to be happy. Could this woman make you happy?” 

Darcy almost laughed at the question. Elizabeth Bennet was the only woman who could make him happy - and he told them so. 

“Then why do you not offer to her?” Andrew asked. 

At this, Darcy did laugh - a rueful, hollow laugh, which he could not contain. What was the point in hiding it? He deserved their censure. He deserved to feel the consequences of his actions. 

And they deserved to know.

Without facing them, he responded. “I did.” 

Startled by the news, Andrew and Penny looked at each other, vacillating between shock and confusion. The other members of their party fared no better, each unsuccessfully grappling with the statement. It was Richard who reached the undeniable conclusion first. 

“She refused you?” He asked cautiously, eyeing his cousin. 

“Vehemently.” 

The room went silent. It all made sense now. Darcy had been rejected . His desolation came not from being unable to make an offer but from having said offer refused. Horror dawned over each of the room’s occupants - there was nothing they could do about that . They could hardly kidnap the lady and force her to wed. 

Georgiana watched her brother closely, and her heart broke at the sight of him. Even with his back towards them, she could sense his despondency. He was miserable. No. No, this would not do. There had to be some sort of mistake. There had to be something they could do to fix this. 

With renewed resolve, she asked, “What happened?” 

Finally, Darcy turned to look at his family. He could not hide the doleful look in his eyes and, thus, made no effort to do so. They could already see how broken he was.

“That,” he remarked, “is a long story. And you will think very ill of me by the end of it.” 

“We could never think ill of you, Fitzwilliam,” His Aunt replied, giving him a small, encouraging smile. 

Darcy shook his head. “Oh, you do not yet know of my behavior. It was poor from the very beginning.”

“Well then, let us start from there,” his Uncle suggested. 

Turning back to the window, Darcy buried his head in his hands and took a deep, stabilizing breath. The mere thought of reliving those fateful months in which he had lost his heart seemed an insurmountable task. Though they replayed incessantly within his mind, speaking of them aloud was another matter entirely. As of now, the salient points were known only to himself - he had not mentioned the events to another soul. Bingley, he knew, had a slight notion of his regard for Elizabeth, though Darcy doubted his amiable friend knew how deeply his admiration of the lady truly ran.

How would his family react? Would they scorn him? Rebuke him? Or would they seek to comfort him? Neither outcome was desirable - for Darcy did not deserve their consolation, but he did not feel as though he could withstand their derision.

“We want to help you, Fitzwilliam,” his Aunt murmured, silently praying that he would finally confide in them.  

“I know,” Darcy responded quietly, “but I fear there is very little you can do.” 

“Let us try,” his Uncle encouraged. 

It would be painful - that much Darcy knew - and it would likely be pointless...but he would tell them. They deserved to know the truth. With a deep breath, he started from the very beginning. 

“As you know, I was not thrilled at the prospect of accompanying Bingley to Hertfordshire, given...recent events.” At this, he cautiously eyed Georgiana, who, much to his surprise, only smiled sympathetically. “I made little effort to hide my displeasure, both from Bingley and the local populace. I am afraid I ostracized myself almost immediately. Not a week after we arrived, our party was invited to an assembly in Meryton, the closest town to Netherfield. I, of course, had no desire to go, but Bingley would not hear it.” 

Andrew, deciding to begin their correction of Darcy’s behavior posthaste, commented, “You know very well that your absence would reflect poorly on Bingley, Fitzwilliam.” 

Darcy nodded regretfully. “Indeed, I do. I knew it then, too, but I had arrogantly decided that their opinions were no concern of mine. And, of course,” he continued, mortification growing with every word, “I assumed that my income and station would make up for any behavioral deficiencies.” 

Penny was tempted to rebuke him for the sentiment, but his contrite tone already spoke volumes. It was clear that he now saw the fault in such a belief, and his obvious self-recrimination was enough to keep her silent on the matter. 

“I assume you met Miss Elizabeth at this assembly?” Elinor surmised. 

“Indeed, I did,” Darcy responded, the slightest of smiles gracing his face at the memory. “I must admit, she caught my attention almost immediately. She was standing in the corner with her sister and Miss Lucas - now Mrs. Collins - and she was laughing.” 

“Laughing?” His Aunt questioned. She noticed his faint smile and glassy, unfocused eyes as if he were reliving the moment in his mind.

“Oh, yes, she has the most enchanting laugh. For a moment, I could hear nothing else. Looking back, I believe she was laughing at us.” 

“Laughing at you? Whatever for?”

“I am sure our small party looked ridiculous - all but Bingley, of course. We walked in, noses held high in a glaring display of unwarranted pride. We had not spoken a word before we thought ourselves above them. Elizabeth, clever as she is, likely perceived our disdain immediately, and she could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all.”

“And did you speak to her?”

The question shook Darcy from his reverie. He blinked a few times, regaining his focus as he was filled with remorse once again. “No, I did not. I did not speak to anyone. Rumors of my income quickly began to circulate, and I resorted to stalking about the outskirts of the room, glowering at anyone who approached.” 

“You did not dance?” Elinor questioned, remembering what Richard said about Miss Elizabeth’s comment. 

“I danced only two sets - one with Miss Bingley and the other with Mrs. Hurst. I could hardly escape that obligation.”

“That is all? You did not dance with any of the local ladies? Surely, Charles encouraged you.” 

A new wave of dread washed over Darcy as he remembered his cruel, thoughtless words towards the woman he loved. Good Lord, how was he to tell them what he said? His throat constricted, and he swallowed thickly, running his hands through his hair. 

“Bingley did encourage me. I told him that it would be insupportable for me to dance at such an assembly and that it would be a punishment for me to stand up with any of the local ladies.”

At this, Penny could not conceal her mortification. “My God, Fitzwilliam! You actually said that? Out loud? They could have heard you!” She could hardly believe her nephew capable of thinking such a thing, much less saying it aloud amongst company. 

Darcy let out another hollow laugh, running his hands along his cheeks. “Oh, it gets much worse, Aunt. I proceeded to tell Bingley that he was dancing with the only handsome woman in the room - a woman who happened to be Miss Jane Bennet, Elizabeth’s eldest sister.”

He paused here and took a long, drawn-out breath, face already red with shame. “And now I must tell you of my most flagrant faux pas of the evening. After praising Miss Jane Bennet, Bingley pointed out Miss Elizabeth, saying that she, too, was very pretty. He offered to have Miss Bennet introduce me to her so that we could dance...and I refused his offer in the worst possible way. I told him that Elizabeth was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me - I said that I was in no humor to give consequence to ladies who were slighted by other men, as she had been sitting out for the last two dances. And so you see...that was her first impression of me.”

Darcy could not bear to look at his family’s reaction to his admission, and it was, perhaps, a good thing that he did not - the relative mix of mortification and disappointment may very well have broken the already fragile man. They were, of course, right to react in such a way. In truth, his family could not quite believe it. They knew him to be reticent and cold amongst strangers, but this...this seemed almost cruel. And to say such a thing aloud…

Georgiana was the first to break the silence, asking, “Did...did she hear you?”

“I believe so. Not ten seconds after I uttered it, she walked straight past me, laughing. I am sure she told Mrs. Collins and her sisters about it, as there were many times throughout the remainder of the evening where they looked at me and started giggling.”

Penelope had a difficult time imagining that this Miss Elizabeth truly found the situation diverting. She could understand laughing at the ridiculous - it was a favorite hobby of hers, after all - but this went beyond ridiculousness. In all likelihood, laughter served as Miss Elizabeth’s defense mechanism in this situation. 

“That,” Penny finally commented, “is hardly an auspicious beginning.” 

“Indeed it is not,” her husband agreed.

“I am hesitant to say that my behavior improved after that,” Darcy continued, still facing the window. “We saw the Bennets several times in the following weeks, but I barely said a word to them. I was, however, quite fascinated by Elizabeth, and I spent every moment I could listening in on her conversations.”

“Yet you never joined them?” Richard asked. 

“Not once. In fact, I did not speak to Elizabeth until a gathering at Lucas Lodge, the previous home of Mrs. Collins, which took place several weeks after the Meryton Assembly.”

“And did this interaction proceed more favorably?” Penny asked cautiously, hoping that her nephew had presented himself in a good light at least once. 

“I did not insult her,” Darcy huffed, “but I cannot say that it went well. Sir William Lucas was speaking to me about the merits of dancing when Elizabeth walked by. He stopped her and offered her to me as a desirable partner. She resisted, but I leapt at the chance and told her that I would be quite happy to stand up with her. Despite the insistence of both myself and Sir William, she refused. Looking back, she likely thought me insincere, simply asking because I was following the dictations of decorum. In truth, I did want to dance with her. I had spent so many hours listening to her speak with others, and I was quite eager to do so myself.”

“You must find her quite interesting,” Elinor commented smilingly. 

Darcy looked down with the smallest of grins. “It would be difficult not to. She is extremely intelligent and witty, and she possesses the most singular power of making even the dullest, most hackneyed of topics seem engrossing. Rarely have I seen a person - much less one who was not afforded the opportunity of attending school - speak on so many subjects and remain well-informed on them all. I’ve heard her discuss everything from crop rotation to philosophy and politics. I even heard her speaking in Latin with the local rector and her sister, Miss Mary.” 

“That is quite remarkable,” Penny replied, glancing at her husband. “But she never spoke with you?”

At this, Darcy’s small grin disappeared, and he brought his hands up to his face once again. “Not at Lucas Lodge, no. We did, however, have quite a few debates when she came to stay at Netherfield. You see, while I had taken to Elizabeth, Bingley had become quite enamoured with Miss Jane Bennet. For reasons entirely unknown to me - although I doubt her intentions were pure - Miss Bingley decided to invite Miss Bennet to take luncheon at Netherfield. However, after arriving on horse in the rain, Miss Bennet came down with a fever and was forced to convalesce at Netherfield for about a week. Miss Elizabeth came to see her sister immediately, having walked all the way from Longbourn. Bingley insisted that she stay until Miss Bennet was well again.” 

“She walked the whole way? Why not take a carriage or go on horseback?” Lawrence questioned.

“All three miles,” Darcy grinned. “She enjoys walking very much and will do so at every opportunity. You should have seen her when she arrived. Miss Bingley commented on her muddy petticoat, but I could only notice her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She looked rather like a wood nymph, emerging from the forest to aid her sister.”

She must love her sister very dearly,” Elinor opined, silently wishing that she had any siblings who cared so much for her. 

“I believe she loves them all greatly,” Darcy replied, sending a small smile towards Georgiana. “However, she and Miss Bennet seem to share a very special bond. Rarely have I seen two souls so in-tune with one another.”

With this, melancholy overcame him once again. How dearly Darcy wished for Elizabeth to share such a bond with him ...not one of a sisterly nature, of course, but one of equal - if not greater - strength. What he would give to experience such a connection! 

Penny could sense her nephew slipping further into his own despondency, and she thought it best to pull him out before he sank entirely yet again. They could not help unless they knew the full story. Clearing her throat, she asked, “And how was Miss Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield?”

Darcy blinked a few times, regaining his focus. Now was not, perhaps, the best time to dwell on such thoughts, and he was, unfortunately, nowhere near finished with his harrowing tale. Swallowing the bile that had built up in his throat, Darcy continued, saying, “Knowing what I know now, I imagine that she finds no pleasure in the remembrance of her time there, but I must admit to looking upon it fondly. We spoke often and had many spirited debates. She proved to be quite a formidable opponent - I can scarcely remember the last time I had so enjoyable a discussion, and I daresay she could contend with any number of my old Cambridge peers. I delighted in every moment we spent together and, oftentimes against my will, sought her attention. I even asked her to dance a reel. She refused, of course, but at the time, I thought her refusal came only out of concern for her sister and the desire to return to her side. It never occurred to me that she disliked me. I had...I had even considered her almost a friend by the end of her stay.”

Here, Darcy paused, letting out a derisive laugh. “Of course, my behavior spoke nothing of friendship. Looking back, I showed nothing more than cold civility, so frightened I was by the prospect of paying her too much attention. It is a wonder she deigned to speak to me at all.”

Andrew looked at his nephew incredulously. “Why would you be afraid of showing her too much attention?” 

Darcy’s cheeks reddened at the question, and he tugged at his hair in frustration towards his past-self. “I did not want her to hope that I had any designs on her or that I would make her an offer. Although I enjoyed her company immensely, I became convinced that nothing could come of it - our relative stations in life were too different, and such a match would be viewed as a degradation upon the Darcy name.” He halted, letting out a large breath. “What a fool I was! Not only for holding such a sentiment but also for believing that she harboured any such hopes in the first place. In all likelihood, her greatest hope was that she would never again have to reside in the same house as me.”

The Fitzwilliams could hear Darcy’s throat thicken with every word. When he went silent once again, they were unsure as to whether they should follow suit - giving him time at the risk of allowing him to slip too far back into his own despair - or if they should encourage him to continue. 

Andrew decided on the latter, asking, “And what happened after she left Netherfield?”

Darcy stayed quiet for a moment longer before turning around. He glanced over the visages of his beloved family, taking in the relative mix of pity and disappointment until his gaze finally landed on Georgiana. Could he tell her about Wickham? Although he felt that she deserved to know, he did not want to incite any painful recollections. 

“Georgi-,” he began, only to be interrupted. 

“Brother,” Georgiana said with conviction, having already read the hesitancy upon his face, “I assure you that I can handle anything you wish to say.”

“I do not wish to upset you.”

“I will only be upset if you refuse to tell me the whole story. I am no longer a child, and I dearly wish to help you.” 

The last sentence came out almost pleadingly, and Darcy knew that he could deny her nothing. He swallowed thickly and, taking a deep breath, continued. “A few days after the Bennets left Netherfield, Bingley suggested that we ride to Longbourn to ask after Miss Bennet’s health. However, as we were riding through Meryton, we happened to see four of the Bennet sisters speaking with some of the officers who had recently been installed in Hertfordshire. As we approached, I noticed that one of the men they were speaking to was…” Darcy paused, glancing once more at his sister. “Wickham.” 

The concurrent gasps elicited by this statement may very well have seemed comical to any possible onlookers, but the room’s occupants could find nothing diverting about it. 

“Wickham!” Richard barked, shooting out of his chair. “What the Hell was Wickham doing in Hertfordshire?”

“He accepted a commission and found himself encamped there.” 

Before Richard could reply, Georgiana broke into the conversation, voice full of panic. “You said something, didn’t you?”

“To Wickham?” Her brother asked quizzically. 

“No, to the Bennets! Or anyone in Meryton! Surely, you warned them?”

Darcy’s face coloured, and he looked away. “I...I did not know what to say. I could hardly mention Ramsgate.”

“You did not need to mention Ramsgate! You did not need to mention me at all! You could have just said that he was a rake and a gambler and not a man to be trusted! Even if they did not believe you, he would have eventually proven your assertions correct.”

At his sister’s passionate outcry, Darcy turned away, shame on his face and dread in his stomach. Why in God’s name hadn’t he warned anyone? Georgiana was right - there was no need for him to mention his sister. He just needed to claim a previous acquaintance with the man and put the people of Meryton on their guard. Wickham would undoubtedly out himself as a reprobate at some point, and the least Darcy could do was ensure their safety until then. Had he truly become so proud that he would not suffer even the smallest of tasks for the sake of an entire town? And a town so close to his Elizabeth, no less! Good God, what must she think? Her disapprobation must be even greater than before! He could have - should have - said something. 

Georgiana watched with apprehension as her brother leaned against the window. She had not meant to upbraid him so - she just couldn’t stomach the thought of another person falling victim to that deceitful debonair. She knew her brother meant well, misguided as he was in his attempt to preserve her reputation. 

With a deep breath, she approached him and grabbed his arm. “I am sorry to cause you more pain, Fitzwilliam. I do not blame you. But, please, write to someone in Hertfordshire - anyone. Tell them to watch Wickham with a keen eye.”

Darcy placed a hand over his sister’s, sending her a remorseful smile. “I will do so before the day is out. I am only sorry that I did not do it sooner.” He glanced at her, then, trying to ascertain her thoughts. “Does it not pain you to speak of Wickham?”

Georgiana smiled at her dear brother, always so concerned for her well-being. “No. As much as I regret my own foolishness in the matter, I can safely say that my heart is not - and never was - his. I remember how father used to speak about mother...and I see how you speak of Miss Elizabeth. That is not what I felt for him. He flattered me - made me as though I was an adult - and I believe that my attachment formed from there. It was my head, not my heart, which was engaged. Truth be told, if I were to pass him on the street, it would be with impunity. I do not think of him, and when he is mentioned, my feelings remain unaffected.”

To the amazement of everyone in the room, a genuine smile spread across Darcy’s face. For perhaps the first time since April, the smallest vestiges of happiness could be found in his heart. He knew he had his Aunt and Uncle to thank for this development. They had spent so much time with Georgiana after the incident, and he was certain that her healing was greatly hastened by their unwavering support. He could not help but be proud of his sister, and he sent a silent thanks to God that her heart was untouched. 

Georgiana rose on her toes to kiss her brother’s cheek. “ I am well now, brother. It is you we are worried about. Will you not finish your story?”

The smile on Darcy’s face disappeared, and the brief lightness of his chest dulled into a heavy darkness once again. He watched as Georgiana returned to her seat, staring at him with imploring eyes. The rest of his family did the same, sending him encouraging smiles. Lord, what had he done to deserve them? The fact that they were still willing to listen, much less help him after everything he’d already said...it amazed him. If they could listen, he could talk. 

“A few weeks after our surprise meeting in Meryton, Bingley held a ball at Netherfield. I, of course, was quite displeased at the prospect and spent most of the evening stalking about the outskirts of the room. However, I was determined to dance with Elizabeth. Twice she had turned me down, and both times I was convinced it was circumstance - not herself - which bade her refuse me. After some hesitancy - which I mistook for pleasurable surprise - she accepted.”

“And how did you fare?” Lawrence questioned. 

“About as well as you imagine,” Darcy replied with a wry smile. “I had been so eager to speak with her, but as soon as the dance started, my mind went blank - I could not think of a single topic worth discussing. For a moment, I was quite content to dance in comfortable silence and simply enjoy her company, but she obviously did not share the sentiment. She teased me for my reticence and told me that we must speak about something. I asked the first thing that came to mind - if she and her sisters often walked to Meryton. She seemed to take that as a challenge and responded by saying that they had recently made a new friend on one of their walks. She was, of course, referring to Wickham.” Darcy paused for a moment, bringing his hands to his face. “I should have warned her then and there. Instead, I said something of how he is adept at making friends but bad at keeping them. Why I chose to be enigmatic, I do not know. She gave me the perfect opportunity - had I simply been forthright, I imagine I could have spared us both much pain.”

“And after that?” Elinor asked.

“She told me that she had heard such different accounts of me as to puzzle her exceedingly. So maladjusted was I by the conversation, I requested that she not take my likeness at the present moment, as the performance would reflect poorly on us both. She proceeded to walk away, and she did not even spare me a glance the rest of the evening.”

As much as she sympathized with him, Penelope was beginning to wonder how her nephew had not perceived Miss Elizabeth’s distaste for him sooner. These were not the actions of a woman in love. 

“For the rest of the evening,” Darcy continued regretfully, “I watched her family and, unfortunately, made many baseless assumptions.”

“Her family,” Penny cut in, “What are they like?” She recalled Georgiana commenting on Darcy’s dislike of Miss Elizabeth’s family, and she was quite interested in what he had to say on the matter.

Darcy’s mouth went dry at the question, and he tugged at his hair, trying to sort his thoughts. His opinion of them had undergone great change within the last month - so much so that he himself was unsure of his exact feelings. His initial impression had spoken far more of his own character than of theirs, and he felt the unfairness of it acutely.   

“There are five Bennet sisters,” he began. “The eldest - Miss Jane Bennet - is, as Bingley puts it, a perfect angel, and I can honestly say that I’ve never harboured an ill opinion of her. Elizabeth is the second eldest. You are, of course, aware of my feelings towards her. The youngest three, however…” Here, Darcy paused, fidgeting with the signet ring on his little finger. “At first, I thought them ridiculous. Miss Mary routinely embarrassed herself at the pianoforte, and she showed very little humility. She seemed to be full of conceit and thought herself quite superior in mind to those around her - an ironic opinion for me to form, I know.” 

“Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia,” he continued, “were raucous mendicants, who seemed determined to flirt with every man in red. I thought them all histrionic and pettish, clamoring to see who could make themselves appear the most foolish. Truthfully, there was a time when I had nothing good to say about them.”

“And now?” Andrew questioned. 

“Now…” Darcy hesitated, raking his hands through his hair. “They certainly have their faults - that I will not deny. Miss Mary is parsonic, oftentimes obnoxiously so. Yet, there is a quiet tenacity about her that I cannot help but admire. She is extremely well-read and possesses a very philosophical mind. Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia are boisterous, to be sure, but their spirit is to be commended. I imagine that, if channelled into something more productive, their exuberance and love of life could do much good in the world. The more I reflect on their behavior, the more I come to realize that their failings lay chiefly with their parents, not them.”

“You dislike their parents?” Lawrence asked. 

“Had you asked me that a few months ago, I likely would have replied in the affirmative,” Darcy replied, pinching the bridge of this nose. “However, I now believe that it is unfair to say that I dislike them. I certainly disagree with much of what they do, but they are not bad people. Still, they have provided for their daughters a home with little parental affection. You know as well as I do how detrimental it can be for children to grow up without the constant warmth of supportive parents - siblings can only do so much. There was a time when I considered Mrs. Bennet to be the worst offender of the two. She is clamorous and prone to hysterics, and she appears, at first glance, to be quite avaricious. She is not the least bit subtle about her desire to find wealthy husbands for her daughters.”

“So,” Penelope interrupted, “she is very similar to the matrons of the Ton .” 

“I...can see why you would say that,” Darcy admitted, letting out a small huff. Now that he thought about it, her behavior wasn’t terribly different. He could certainly see the similarities. Mrs. Bennet was, perhaps, a bit more brash and conspicuous with her intentions than was generally fashionable amongst the first circles, but her actions were very much the same. Her motives, however…

“No,” Darcy finally responded, “she is not. Her deportment is similar, but her motives, I admit, are far purer. While staying at Rosings, I learned that Longbourn, the Bennet estate, is entailed away from the female line. As a family with no sons, they are faced with an unfortunate reality - when Mr. Bennet dies, they will be turned out of house and home. With this fact to colour her actions, I cannot say that I blame Mrs. Bennet for her desperation. She seems to be the only one who takes the threat seriously.”

“Oh, dear…” Penny murmured, twisting her handkerchief. She could not imagine how dreadful it would feel to know that you were one accident away from losing everything. Mrs. Bennet, obstreperous as she may be, was likely doing what she thought she ought to do.

“Still,” Darcy continued, “While I understand her unease and sympathize with her situation, I can not say that she is an excellent mother. I’m afraid that her anxiety has engendered in her a general disregard for the feelings of her daughters. She plays favorites, and I have seen her denigrate them more than once - Elizabeth and Miss Mary, especially. I fear that the Bennet girls, save for Miss Lydia, receive little love from their mother.”

“And what of their father? What of Mr. Bennet?” Andrew inquired. 

“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy responded with some rancor, “is, I believe, largely to blame for the tribulations of the Bennet family. He is an indolent, apathetic father and, I can only assume, landlord. In the months I was in Hertfordshire, I saw him only twice. The first was when he came to Netherfield to welcome Bingley to the neighborhood. I did not notice it then, but it is clear now that much of what he said was mentioned only to make sport of his family. The second time I saw him was at the Netherfield Ball. He did not stand up with his wife or any of his daughters - in fact, the only time I saw him truly interact with any member of his family was when he was persuaded by Elizabeth to stop Miss Mary from singing another song. He did so in the worst possible way, humiliating her in front of a large crowd of people. Is that how a father is to behave? What are his daughters to think? Furthermore, while I cannot blame him for the entailment, I can only assume that he has done nothing to assuage his wife’s concerns.”

Darcy huffed, burying his head in his hands. “Again, I do not think he is a bad person. He certainly isn’t malicious. But I do believe he is a poor father and husband. From what I’ve witnessed, the two eldest Miss Bennets bear the brunt of responsibility in their family - responsibility which should fall to their parents. When their younger sisters act out, they are the ones to reprimand them. When one of their sisters require comfort, they are the ones who provide it. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are the only ones who consistently check their family’s behavior. How is that right? How is it right that a father be so uninvested in the lives of his children? How is it right that a mother be so unconcerned with the feelings of her daughters? I am used to such behavior in the Ton , cruel as it is, but this...this bothers me to a degree I cannot quite describe.” 

Andrew watched as his nephew’s aggravation intensified. He could not blame him - he, too, found the situation to be frustrating. An indolent father was often the only thing needed to bring unhappiness to a family. Add to that a fretful but misguided mother, and you had a recipe for disaster. Still, Andrew could not help but be impressed by the two eldest Bennets. It was not easy to manage difficult family members. Thankfully, he only ever had to deal with one - his sister, Catherine. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were forced to contend with five, two of which were their own parents. The young women were to be commended for their efforts. 

Darcy, for his part, found himself growing increasingly worried. Elizabeth loved her family very much - that he could not deny - and he knew that they loved her, as well. But love and support were two different things. You could love someone without offering support when they needed it. Did Elizabeth have the support of her family? She was fiercely independent, to be sure, but everybody needed somebody . Were they there when she needed somebody? Jane, in all likelihood, was. He imagined that they relied on each other for almost everything. The others, however, Darcy was unsure about. Elizabeth’s father, while well-meaning, was likely too torpid to offer much in terms of assistance. He might extend some comforting words, but whether or not he would actually act was questionable. Elizabeth’s mother made no effort to conceal the fact that Elizabeth was her least-favourite daughter, so Darcy did not expect much but histrionics from her. Miss Mary likely offered advice from Fordyce or Scripture, and - although he was a devout Christian - Darcy realized that such methods were often unhelpful. Finally, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia seemed far too self-absorbed to even notice when others were struggling; he also doubted that their “help” would be particularly useful.

Was that truly it? Was Miss Bennet Elizabeth’s only consistently reliable means of support? He recalled her speaking quite fondly of her relations in trade, but they were, to his understanding, often in Town. Additionally, Mrs. Collins now resided nearly thirty miles away. One could only do so much from such a distance.

The thought that Elizabeth was often forced to carry her burdens alone tore at Darcy’s heart. He dearly wished that he was in a position to help her - to be her support and her to be his. He remembered how his parents would turn to each other for help with even the smallest of things. To have such a relationship with Elizabeth…

“Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana asked, effectively shaking Darcy out of his stupor. “What happened after the Netherfield Ball? You returned to Town soon after, did you not?” 

“I...yes, we did,” Darcy responded, turning towards the window yet again. “I made a grievous error in judgement, and I fear that I caused great pain to my closest friend.”

“Bingley?” Penny asked in astonishment. “What happened with Bingley?”

Darcy hesitated briefly, biting his tongue. “He had fallen in love with Miss Jane Bennet. Anyone with eyes could see his regard for her...but I could see no sign of affection within the lady herself. She was always perfectly polite, perfectly serene, and I could sense no passion. Of course, she was only behaving as she thought she ought. Still, I became convinced that she did not feel strongly for him and was only pursuing the match at the insistence of her mother.”

At this, dismay descended upon the only other unmarried man in the room, bile rising from the back of his throat. Surely, this was not… No. No, it had to be. The story sounded too familiar, and Miss Elizabeth’s reaction during their walk at Rosings was far too great a coincidence. Richard was now forced to confront the fact that he had likely further sullied his cousin’s chances with Miss Elizabeth.

“So, you persuaded Bingley to retreat from what you thought an unsuitable match?” Richard asked, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Good God, Darcy...I am so sorry.”

Darcy eyed his usually loquacious cousin cautiously, greatly unnerved by his contrition. “Whatever do you have to be sorry for?”

Richard swallowed nervously, avoiding the inquiring eyes of his family. “At Rosings, I could see that Miss Elizabeth did not hold you in a favourable light. Of course, I knew nothing of your shared history, but I sought to raise you in her estimation, if only slightly. So, I told her of your unflappable loyalty towards your friends. I...I told her how you had recently saved a friend from an unequal match, in which you had some very strong objections against the lady. I would not have said anything, Cousin, had I known that the lady you were referring to was her sister! I am truly sorry, Darce.”

Darcy was silent for a moment, almost chillingly so. His face remained unreadable, and Richard wondered briefly if his cousin was going to break into tears or, perhaps, simply throttle him. He could not say that he found either response particularly enticing and was very much praying for the execution of an unforeseen third option. 

Thankfully, his prayers came to fruition. Darcy merely let out a rueful laugh and rubbed his face, leaning further into the wall. “Do not concern yourself, Richard,” he finally said. “I doubt it made a difference. I am the one who did the deed, and I imagine that Elizabeth already suspected my involvement in the whole affair. She was right to be upset. Who was I to judge Miss Bennet’s feelings? Me, who proposed to my love without her having the slightest notion of my regard. Who was I to meddle in Bingley’s affairs? It was not my place. I should not have interfered.”

“I know you had Charles’ best interests in mind, but-”

“No, Aunt,” Darcy interrupted. “This was a selfish act. I knew myself to be in love, and I was terrified. I do not know when it happened. I do not know how it started or where it began. But I was in love and utterly frightened by it. I convinced Bingley to leave with me, taking advantage of his trusting nature and lack of self-confidence. In doing so, I injured not only him, but Miss Bennet as well.”

“Worse still,” Darcy continued, “were my actions in London. Miss Bennet came to Town not long after our removal from Netherfield. She called on Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and I...I hid her presence from Charles. Caroline and Louisa did the same, even going so far as to tell Miss Bennet that Bingley knew she was in London but was too busy to call on her.” 

Darcy paused and closed his eyes, resting his head against the window. Of all the actions prior to his execrable proposal, this was the one he regretted the most. Being a naturally kind man, Darcy was not often one to cause pain to others. He prided himself on his selflessness - which was, he realized, quite ironic - and he doubted he would ever forgive himself for this interference, which had caused pain to so many. He should have told Bingley that Miss Bennet was in Town. Lord, he shouldn’t have even convinced him to leave Netherfield in the first place.

Penny could not help but be shocked at her nephew’s actions. It was so very unlike him. She could, she supposed, see the reasoning behind their initial egression from Netherfield, much as she agreed that it was not Darcy’s place to make such a decision. He cared deeply for Bingley and would not want to see his friend in a loveless match. But to hide her presence in London...that was unpardonable. What must Miss Bennet think? To be subject to a man’s constant attentions and then told that he suddenly has no interest in her...the poor girl! If anything, her coming to London was a sign that she did like Mr. Bingley.

“I would tell Bingley of my interference,” Darcy commented quietly, “if I was certain he would be welcome back in Hertfordshire. But it has been so many months, and I do not know if he would be warmly received after such an abrupt departure. I do not wish to cause him more pain.”

Andrew gave his nephew a sympathetic smile. “Let us worry about Bingley another time. He is to arrive in only five weeks’ time, you know, and we can weigh our options then. For now, I bid you continue with your story.”

“Very well,” Darcy conceded, determined to trudge onward. “I was in love and trying desperately to forget it. Of course, nothing worked. I longed to be back in Elizabeth’s company - to hear her laugh and listen to her delightful badinage. I found myself comparing every woman I met to her, and none of them could measure up. They lacked her beauty, her wit, her intelligence - and every passing day I did not return to Hertfordshire was becoming torturous. For perhaps the first time in my life, I was relieved to find myself heading to Rosings. Aunt Catherine would surely prove a suitable distraction. Or so I thought.” 

“You see,” he continued, “not ten minutes after our arrival, Aunt Catherine informed us of the Collinses’ guest - a Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Hertfordshire. Of course, Lady Catherine had nothing good to say about Elizabeth - she thought her impertinent, headstrong, and obstinate - all of which served only to raise her in my estimation.”

“Any lady that Aunt Catherine dislikes must be very admirable indeed,” Lawrence joked, only to be silenced by a gentle slap to the shoulder from his mother. 

“Quite,” Darcy returned, attempting to ignore the look his Aunt gave her husband when he chuckled. “Throughout her weeks in Kent, I spent as much time with Elizabeth as I could. I would arrange to meet her on her daily walks, and I would visit the Parsonage as often as possible. I delighted in all her visits to Rosings, enjoying how well she dealt with Aunt Catherine’s scathing remarks. It was...strange. When I was near her, I felt warm and light. I was happy. When I was forced away, I felt oddly empty, as if something was missing. I was more than eager to be reunited with her - to feel whole again. Is it not odd that one’s entire mood would shift based on the comings and goings of a single person?”

“That is called love, my dear,” Penny answered, sending him a warm smile. There could be no doubt of her nephew’s feelings. In her momentary happiness, she nearly forgot that the story did not have a happy ending. 

“It did not scare me this time,” Darcy continued, his heart many miles away, resting where he guessed his Elizabeth was. “I do not know why. I don’t know what changed. I was just...desperate. Desperate to ensure that we would not be parted ever again. Desperate to keep her by my side. The thought of having to leave her was agonizing. One day, when she did not come to Rosings for tea, I just...went to her. I do not even remember what excuse I gave Aunt Catherine, if I gave any at all.”

“And that is when you proposed?” His Uncle guessed.

Suddenly, the light in Darcy’s eyes, bourne of pleasant memories, disappeared. He looked more miserable - more despondent - than ever before. His anguished turmoil begat so miasmic an atmosphere that even the most durable of the room’s occupants found themselves affected by it.

Darcy put as much distance between himself and his family as he could, burying his head in his hands. Lord, he did not want to tell them what he said. He did not want to repeat it. He did not want to remember Elizabeth’s response. At that moment, he wanted nothing but for the Earth to swallow him whole, leaving no signs of his existence. He wanted to melt to wax and slip beneath the floorboards, utterly forgotten by the world. Of course, that did not happen - the world was not so forgiving. He was still in the drawing-room, being looked at by expectant family members who dearly wished to help him. 

“I did propose,” he finally responded, voice shaking. “And I said some of the most vile, abominable things...I told her that I ardently loved and admired her - and, in doing so, was going expressly against the wishes of my family, friends, and even my own better judgement. I told her that our relative stations in life made the connection reprehensible and that I, too, regarded it as such. I told her that I felt for her a passionate admiration and regard, which, despite my struggles, had overcome every rational objection, and I begged her to be my wife. At first, she responded with more kindness than I deserved. She told me that she had never desired my good opinion and that I had certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. She said that she was sorry to cause pain to anyone, but it was unconsciously done, and she hoped it would be of short duration.”

He paused here, and Penny swore she could see him tremble slightly. “For a moment, I could not breathe - all rational thought left me in my disbelief. She was actually refusing me. I should have stopped there. I should have apologized. I should have asked for a second chance. I should have left. But I did not. I only dug myself deeper. I asked her why I was rejected with so little an endeavor at civility. She, in turn, asked me why with so evident a design to offend and insult her, I chose to tell her that I liked her against my will, against my reason, and against my character. Was that not some reason for incivility? She then told me that she had every reason in the world to think ill of me. How could anything tempt her to accept the man who had ruined the happiness of a most beloved sister? I did not deny the part I played. I even told her that I did everything in my power to separate Bingley from her sister and that I rejoiced in my success.”

Again, he paused, and no one in the room could deny that there were now tears in his eyes, try as he might to conceal them. “But it was not just that on which her dislike of me was founded. It was Wickham who had first turned her against me. I do not know exactly which lie he told, but she was quite certain that I had wronged him. And how can I blame her? My behavior did me no credit - she had no reason to suspect Wickham and every reason to think ill of me. She blamed me for reducing him to his present state of poverty and was further disgusted by my conceit and ridicule.”

Now, Darcy was shaking. His entire family went as still as stone, fearing that his emotions were bubbling too close to the surface and that any attempt to calm or comfort him would result in a breakdown. Darcy was not a man to give in easily to maudlin, but the act of repeating what was, perhaps, the worst moment of his life was proving to be too insuperable a task. He could not keep his composure.

“I thanked her,” he continued, unable to stop now, “for explaining her opinion of me so fully. I told her that these offenses might have been overlooked had not her pride been hurt by the honest confession of the scruples which had long prevented my forming any serious designs on her - had I concealed my struggles and flattered her. I asked her if she expected me to rejoice in the inferiority of her circumstances - to congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose condition in life was so decidedly below my own.”

At this, he finally turned to his family, and his face was the very picture of despair, agony, and heartbreak - red eyes, wet cheeks, shaking limbs. His heart was being torn further out his chest with every word. “I shall never forget her reply,” he said weakly. “She told me that I was mistaken - the mode of my declaration merely spared her any concern she might have felt in refusing me had I behaved in a more gentlemen-like manner. She said that I could not have made her the offer of my hand in any possible way that would have tempted her to accept it. From the very beginning, my manners impressed her with the fullest belief of my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain for the feelings of others. She had not known me a month before she felt I was the...the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

The last sentence proved to be too much. For perhaps the first time since the death of his father, Darcy allowed himself to weep in front of others, unable to keep it in. He wished he was stronger - he wished he could fight it - but the past two months had sapped away what little remained of his strength. There was a painful emptiness in his chest, and it soon spread to the rest of his body, leaving him hallow - a shell. 

He was tired.

Silent sobs racked through his body, and he knew himself to no longer be in control. He was full of shame. Full of anger. Full of despair. And all of it directed towards himself. Lord, he was such a fool - a proud, arrogant fool. In Elizabeth, he had a means to everlasting love and happiness...and he had thrown it away. He wondered if she knew how similar they were - how well they would complement each other...how happy they could be together. 

No, of course she didn’t. Elizabeth did not know him . She knew only that proud fool she had met in Hertfordshire. The one who insulted her. The one who belittled her. The one who scorned her loved ones. That was the man she knew. And she hated him.

She hated him.  

The Fitzwilliams and Georgiana watched as Darcy finally broke. They did not know what to do. They did not speak. They did not move. They did not make a sound. The air of malaise settling in the room was quickly becoming unbearable, threatening to suffocate each of the room’s occupants. 

Surprisingly, it was Georgiana who approached Darcy first. She did the only thing she could think to do - the very same thing that her brother had done for her after Ramsgate. She embraced him. 

For a moment, Darcy was still. The contact had shocked him, and he wondered, momentarily, how she could still think well of him.

But she did. She did think well of him. 

She loved him. 

With that in mind, Darcy returned the gesture, almost crushing his sister in his arms. He had always been grateful for her, but never more so than right now. He was once again struck by how undeserving he was of his family. How many people would have mocked him for crying? How many would have called him weak? How many would have refused to even listen to his woes? 

They did none of this. 

They did not mock him. They did not think him weak. And not only did they listen, but they actively sought him out. They wanted so badly to help him, and they went out of their way to do so. Darcy was certain that there was no better family in the whole of England.

For the first time since entering the room, he was calm. 

He sent a small smile toward his concerned relatives, and, seemingly all at once, the tension in the air disappeared. There was peace.  

“We can fix this,” Georgiana whispered into her brother’s chest. “I know we can.”

“I gave Elizabeth a letter the day after I proposed,” Darcy explained quietly. “I attempted to explain myself - defend myself. I told her that I thought her sister indifferent. I told her about Wickham.”

“Everything?” Georgiana asked, looking up at him. 

“Everything.”

His sister was silent for a short time before she nodded. “If you trust her, so do I.”

“I do,” Darcy responded. “With all my heart.”

“Do you think she believes you?” Penny asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think your letter changed her opinion of you?”

“I do not know. I must confess, there is a part of me that hopes she did not even read it. I was so angry at first. The letter was written with bitterness and acrimony. I did not apologize for my actions or words; I merely explained them. I desperately wish I could rewrite it and illustrate to her my sorrow and depth of feeling.”

Penny watched as her nephew closed his eyes and let out a large sigh, still holding his sister. “What are you thinking, my dear?” She asked gently.  

“I love her,” uttered quietly, almost reverently. 

“We will fix this, Fitzwilliam,” His Aunt replied, determination and resolve colouring her voice. “Do not lose hope. We will think of something.”

“I hope you are right, Aunt. I truly do.”

Chapter Text

Fitzwilliam Darcy made significant progress in the three weeks following his fateful conversation with the Fitzwilliams and Georgiana.

The first thing he did after their discussion in the drawing-room was write to Colonel Forster, warning him about Wickham. With his letter, he sent evidence of the aforementioned man’s previous unpaid debts, as well personal testimonies from the Lambton shopkeepers who had barred Wickham from their stores after waiting almost nine months for payment to no avail. Not one week later, Darcy received a reply. 

Upon receiving Darcy’s letter, Colonel Forster launched an investigation which proved to be very enlightening. Wickham had, it seems, accrued quite a bit of debt, both amongst the shopkeepers of Meryton and his fellow officers. His gambling debts were by far the most significant, and the formerly-admired gentleman found himself growing increasingly disfavored and beleaguered, despite his excess of charm. One particular officer, irate at the loss of 50 pounds, told the Colonel that Wickham had been fornicating with the bar keeper’s daughter quite regularly, having had their first dalliance when they were both too foxed to employ reason. When further questioning revealed the accusation to be true, Wickham earned himself a black eye from a furious father and, more substantially, a tarnished reputation amongst the Meryton populace. Shopkeepers refused to offer him credit, mothers and fathers forbade their daughters from going near him, and the other officers rebuffed his company, fearing for their own reputation within the small town. Beset on all sides by his newly-acquired detractors, Wickham was forced to seek a new assignment. There was talk of sending him to Newcastle, but Colonel Forster and Colonel Shaw - the officer heading the Newcastle regiment - thought it best to keep Wickam as far from Gretna Green as possible. Thus, after much debate, it was decided that he would be shipped to a regiment in Plymouth, and half of his already-meagre salary would be sent back to the people of Hertfordshire until all of his debts were fulfilled.

Colonel Forster thanked Darcy profusely for the warning and assured him that, in the future, he would take far more prodigious care in watching his men. This news brought no little pleasure to Darcy, who, in turn, thanked his sister for encouraging his interference. The rest of the family was, of course, overjoyed that Wickham would no longer be a threat to the people of Hertfordshire or, it seemed, those who crossed him in the Southwest. He was being too closely watched to cause further trouble, and any move he tried to make came at the risk of corporal punishment - a threat, Darcy knew, that would keep the dastardly man in check. 

This development was the commencement of what the Fitzwilliams could only assume to be Darcy’s healing process. Although there was still an air of melancholy about him, the realization that it was not too late for change, as well as the steadfast support of his family, engendered in him a bit of hope. 

And a little hope can go a long way. 

He began eating more regularly and started making a renewed effort with his appearance, shaving routinely and actually taking care with his clothes. He also resumed his daily rides and went on frequent walks with Baran, much to the canine’s pleasure. While these little things brought much relief to his family, the most extraordinary change, they realized, was in the social aspect of his life. 

Darcy was determined to act as if always under Elizabeth’s scrutiny. When faced with the dubious task of socialization, he would imagine himself beside her, encouraged by her playful charm and easy manner to continue in congenial conversation. Thus, he often found himself taking great pains to speak with people, just as she would. This effort was not reserved for his family alone - it was also exerted upon the residents of Lambton and Kympton. 

Kympton was, perhaps, the only place outside of Pemberley where Darcy felt truly at ease. The small village was home to both the current and former staff of Pemberley, and, as such, everyone within was well-acquainted. The general air of the town was one of friendliness and good cheer, and none who entered could help but like it. All of the inhabitants had, at some point in time, worked for the Darcy family, be it under Fitzwilliam or George. There were even a few remaining residents who had worked for Edwin Darcy, Fitzwilliam’s grandfather. Of course, every villager held Fitzwilliam in the highest respect and knew him to be a kind and generous, if somewhat distant Master. However, they, too, had noticed the recent change - and it was certainly a welcome one. 

Darcy had, for the past few weeks, gone out of his way to ask after them. Never before had he taken so eager an interest in their daily affairs. He could often be found walking about the village with his hound and sister, offering a small smile and a tip of his hat to anyone who passed by. When people did stop to speak with him, he did not seem the least bit impatient or ornery, and they always left the conversation holding the affable gentleman in higher regard. He would talk to the residents, be they shopkeepers or stable boys, as if they were on equal footing - as if the boundaries of wealth and station did not exist. Many of them asked Mrs. Reynolds, the current housekeeper of Pemberley and Darcy’s most trusted staff member, what had incited such a change within the Master, but they were disappointed to discover that she knew very little. 

At least, that’s what she told them.

In truth, Dorothy Reynolds knew far more than she let on. She had colluded often with the Fitzwilliams when they first arrived at Pemberley, wishing to identify the source of her Master’s sorrow. Having known Darcy since he was only four years old, his despondency upon returning from Kent had pained her almost as much as it pained them, and she was determined to do whatever necessary to alleviate it. However, no answers were revealed until the kairotic conversation with his family - after which, Georgiana, having gained her brother’s permission, related to the housekeeper the salient points of the whole ordeal. She was quite shocked to learn that any woman would reject a man of such means - 10,000 pounds was nothing to sniff at. 

Of course, as his long-time housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds knew that Darcy made far more than 10,000 pounds per year - that was what Pemberley alone brought in. He owned several other, smaller lucrative estates - some in England and others in Scotland - as well as much land in the latter country. Add to that a number of highly successful investments, and Darcy’s income came to almost 30,000 pounds per annum. 

None outside of his immediate family knew this. Even the ever-esteemed Lady Catherine was unaware of her nephew’s immense earnings, so sure her brother was that she would use it to her own advantage. It certainly didn’t hurt to allow the matrons of the Ton, Catherine included, to believe that Darcy made far less than what was true - should they ever discover his actual income, the poor man would likely never again have a moment’s peace. After all, even with his reported 10,000 pounds per year, he was still very much sought after.

It was for this reason that the Fitzwilliams could not help but be quite impressed by Miss Elizabeth Bennet. No lady with even a modicum of self-respect would have accepted such a proposal, of course, but Penny was well-acquainted with ways of the Ton - she knew that many a lesser woman would have been more than happy to abandon their dignity for the promise of such a great fortune. Yet, here you had Miss Elizabeth - a modest country girl with a small dowry and an entailed estate - who refused to demean herself by accepting a wealthy man whom she did not respect and did not love. 

And there was more still. 

Not only did Miss Elizabeth reject him despite his fortune, but she also succeeded in doing what his family had failed to do - correcting Darcy’s behavior. They could not pretend that the provocation of his recent change was all their doing - the credit, they knew, belonged chiefly to her. She had planted the seeds while they had merely watered what was already growing. It took a special kind of person to arouse such a shift within another, and they dearly wished to meet the rare creature who had worked such magic. 

But therein laid the issue at hand. 

-----

Penelope Fitzwilliam stared pensively into the fire of the drawing-room at Pemberley. She was exceedingly proud of the progress her nephew had made thus far, but her concern would not be so easily-repealed. While Darcy’s health was, thankfully, on the mend, his spirits were still very much the same. There was an emptiness about him that Penny feared only Miss Elizabeth could fill. It was not enough for her to see him healthy.

She wanted him to be happy. 

So, how were they to reunite the young couple? 

The obvious answer was for Darcy to return to Hertfordshire. However, he had no business there other than seeing Elizabeth. Andrew suggested convincing Bingley to return to Netherfield, both for Darcy’s sake and his own, but Darcy was adamantly against the idea - he would not send Bingley back unless he was certain of a warm reception. He did not want to cause his dear friend any more pain, nor did he wish to further injure Miss Bennet by forcing her into the presence of a man she did not want to see. Thus, their options were severely limited, and no one could think of a reasonable plan. 

Although his behavior had been deplorable, Penny was convinced that they could improve Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of Fitzwilliam - just look at all the progress he’d made already! She would be faced with a very different Darcy, indeed...one she could not help but like. They just needed an opportunity to get them back together. 

So deep was Penny in her contemplation of such an opportunity that she failed to hear the knock at the door. It was not until her husband called her name that she came back to herself.

“Are you quite well?” He asked concernedly, closing the door behind him. 

“Yes,” she smilingly reassured him. “I am only thinking of how we can help Fitzwilliam. I cannot stand all this sitting about. We must act.”

“Ah, I must confess to pondering it as well. Though we can hardly act without a plan.”

“And have you any ideas?” Penny asked hopefully, only to be disappointed by the gentle shake of his head. 

It was then that she noticed the letter in her husband’s hands. Andrew recognized the direction of his wife’s gaze and handed her the missive.

“Forgive me, my love, I came to give you this. It is from Madeline.” He said, moving to sit beside her on the sofa.

Penny’s face lightened considerably at the news. The Gardiners were very dear friends of theirs, and it was always a joy to hear from them. 

Andrew Fitzwilliam and Edward Gardiner had become business partners about six years ago, with Mr. Gardiner’s warehouses being a certifiable goldmine and Andrew having the connections necessary to turn an excellent profit. Despite this mercenary beginning, the two men took to each other quite quickly and began spending time together purely for the pleasure of it. They both appreciated the other’s unassuming nature and brotherly disposition, and they found in each other the sibling they had either lost too early in life or simply never received. Of course, neither was inclined to care for the difference in station, generous as it may be - it actually became something of a joke between them. What started as a business proposition soon developed into what would become a life-long friendship. Thankfully, their wives got on just as well, and the two couples found themselves spending a great deal of time in each other’s company, enjoying every moment of it. Andrew was rarely seen at White’s without Edward, and Penny and Madeline did a considerable amount of charity work together. The Earl and Countess also absolutely adored the four Gardiner children and would take every available opportunity to dote on them, dearly missing the days when their children were so young.

In the spring, Madeline had mentioned a possible two-month trip through Derbyshire, as both she and her husband wished to tour the Lakes. Andrew and Penny responded by saying that the Lakes really weren’t all that grand - they had much better spend their two months at Craigspeak. This was, of course, suggested with good-humor and no real pressure to comply, much as the Earl and Countess longed to see their friends for more than a few days. 

Therefore, it was with great excitement that Penny opened the letter, hoping that it bore good news.

-----

June 29th, 1812

Penelope Fitzwilliam

Derbyshire

My dearest friend,

I hope you and Andrew are well. It has been far too long since we last saw you, and I must confess to missing you terribly. However, I cannot say I begrudge you your preference of the country. The weather down South is becoming much too hot for my tastes, and I find myself longing for the colder climate of my old home. Edward, too, has been craving the outdoors. I fear he will attempt to cast into the Thames if we do not leave the city soon. He still speaks of the 22-inch trout he caught at Craigspeak those two years ago - I do not believe there is a single man within his warehouses who has not heard the story. 

Thus, we have decided to take you up on your offer, assuming it is no great imposition. Unfortunately, business calls my husband back sooner than expected, and we will only be able to stay one month. I wish we had more time, but it will be a joy to spend what little we do have with you. As of now, the plan is to arrive around the 16th of July, so please let us know if that is amenable. 

I do have one favor to ask, however. Our niece, Lizzy, has been out of sorts as of late, and I think it would do her good to get out of Hertfordshire for a time. Do I ask too much in requesting that she accompany us? I have long wished for you to meet her, you know, and this would be the perfect opportunity.

Coincidentally, I believe she is already acquainted with some members of your family. She spent a good deal of the spring in Kent, where she made the acquaintance of your sister-in-law, Lady Catherine, as well as that of your youngest son. For reasons unknown to me, the topic seems to distress her, and she does not like to dwell on it for long. Therefore, I have not yet told her of our connection with you, as I fear it will serve only to unnerve her.  

Truth be told, I am concerned. She has not been herself since she returned from Kent, and it pains me greatly to see her so dispirited. Worse still, I have no idea what caused this change in behavior, so I can do very little to help her. I recall you saying that your sister-in-law could be trying, but Lizzy has never been one to be cowed by those who think themselves superior. Of course, I know she has nothing to fear from you. It is my hope that your warmth and kindness, as well as the beauty of Derbyshire, will enliven her a bit. Perhaps she will even open up about the events of the spring when she sees that you and Andrew are not so fractious as your sister-in-law. 

I hope that your children - though they are hardly children anymore, I know - will be home this summer. Edward and I have not seen them in many years, and I should like to know how they take after their parents. 

I eagerly await your reply and hope to see you very soon.

Best wishes, 

Madeline Gardiner

-----

Penelope Fitzwilliam reread the letter once, twice, thrice - even then, she could not quite believe it. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she put the pieces together.

The Gardiner’s favourite niece...was Elizabeth Bennet! She had to be! There were no other women staying with Catherine in the spring, and Madeline had said that the girl needed to get out of Hertfordshire. Lord, how had she forgotten? The Gardiners had five nieces! There were five Bennet sisters - and Madeline had mentioned a ‘Dear Jane’ before. Oh, and Edward’s sister! He had said that she was worrisome and prone to hysterics - exactly as Fitzwilliam described Mrs. Bennet. It had to be the Bennets. Lizzy had to be Elizabeth. 

Still, it seemed too good to be true. 

“Penny?” Her husband questioned, bewildered by her silent astonishment and wild eyes. “Is everything alright? Has something happened with the Gardiners?” 

Without offering anything in the way of a reply, Penelope shot up from her seat and raced to the door, calling for a servant. When a flustered young lady arrived, she asked that everyone in her family - save for Vincent and Juliana - be called to the drawing-room immediately. With a curtsy, the girl left, leaving the Countess alone with her husband.  

Andrew approached her with trepidation, fearing the worst. It was only when his wife turned to him with a wide smile that his concern disappeared, being replaced by curiosity. 

“I shall tell you all when the others arrive,” his wife grinned, “but know that we now have the perfect opportunity to help Fitzwilliam!”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, utterly baffled by the statement. “That letter was from the Gardiners, yes? How are they to aid us?”

“You recall that we both recognized Miss Elizabeth’s name but could not place it?” At her husband’s nod, she continued, almost giggling with delight. “Miss Elizabeth is their niece! She is the Lizzy they speak so frequently about! And she is to come to Derbyshire with them!”

Andrew stared at her in amazement, mouth hanging open in an almost comical fashion. “Are you certain?” He finally asked, reaching for the letter.

However, before he could grab it, the door burst open, and in rushed Fitzwilliam, followed by his sister and cousins. All five of them looked troubled, and they did a once-over of the room as if trying to ascertain whether or not their anxiety was warranted. 

“Is something the matter, Aunt?” Darcy questioned worriedly. “Miss Gibbs said you looked quite distressed.”

“No!” She responded quickly. “No, I am not distressed...I am excited!”

“Excited, Mother?” Richard queried, perplexed by his mother’s enthusiasm. She had been rather listless since learning of Darcy’s failed proposal, and he could not account for this change of attitude. Unless...

“Fitzwilliam,” she said, grabbing his hands with her free one. A small part of her believed that some preface to her news was needed, but the reflection was quickly drowned out by her eagerness to share it. “Miss Elizabeth is to come to Derbyshire!”

Darcy’s heart stopped. “I...I beg your pardon?”

“She is coming to Derbyshire with her Aunt and Uncle!” 

Darcy was silent. He blinked a few times, determined to awake himself from whatever cruel dream he’d slipped into. Surely, she could not be serious? Elizabeth was coming to Derbyshire? No, the odds were too low - they could never be so much in his favour. But, try as he might, he could not awaken himself. He was still standing in the drawing-room, being grinned at by his very animated Aunt. He needed to say something, he knew, but all he could utter was a quiet, “How?” 

Penny waved the letter in front of him, amused by his disbelief. “We’ve just received a letter from the Gardiners, and th-”

“The Gardiners?” Lawrence interrupted. “Your friends from Town?”

“Yes!” His Aunt exclaimed. “Oh, you will never guess...they are Elizabeth’s Aunt and Uncle!” 

“Are you certain?” Richard questioned, echoing the earlier concerns of his father. They could not instill his cousin with false hope - the poor man would be crushed. 

Penelope silently handed the letter to her nephew, and the room’s occupants crowded around it, all wishing to see the news for themselves. 

After a moment, Richard hesitantly remarked, “There were no other women with us in the Spring - only Mrs. Collins and her younger sister, but this could not possibly be referring to either of them.”

Georgiana grabbed her brother’s arm, almost shaking with excitement. “Do people call her Lizzy, Fitzwilliam?”

Darcy merely nodded, eyes remaining fixated on the writing before him. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman in question was Elizabeth - he had heard her people call her Lizzy several times, and, as Richard said, there were no other ladies with them at Rosings, save for Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas. It was terribly dangerous to hope, he knew, but the sentiment crawled up his chest all the same, taking root in his heart and head. 

However, he found one part of the letter uniquely troubling. It said that his Elizabeth was dispirited - out of sorts. The report distressed him greatly. He truly could not imagine her thus, and he dearly wished to know what had caused it. Was it one of her sisters? Her mother? Was it...him? It said that the shift only occurred after she returned from Rosings. Did she regret her words as much as he regretted his? Oh, perish the thought - it was too good to be true! 

But what if it was true? He could not stand the thought of her being downcast, much less at his expense, but if it meant that she had changed her mind about him…

No. No, he was being presumptuous. There could be any number of reasons for her somberness - it was ridiculous to attribute it to himself. In all likelihood, Elizabeth barely gave him a passing thought. Why would she? She had no reason to think better of him.

Yet, was that not the opportunity being presented to him? A chance to change her mind? Darcy let out a groan, rubbing his face in agitation. The battle between elation and trepidation was quickly becoming exhausting, and his mind was running in circles, attempting to sort its feelings on the matter.

His thoughts only ceased when his Aunt grabbed his face. She could see his warring emotions, and she sought to put an immediate end to the conflict. “Fitzwilliam,” she said firmly, “I am sorry to spring this on you. I should have given you a warning. But I promise you - this is a good thing. This is the opportunity you need. You will have a month to change Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of you, perhaps more if you convince Bingley to return to Netherfield. If she truly is a sensible girl, she cannot ignore the changes you’ve made.”

Darcy hesitated. “But what if she does not kn-”

“No heart is impregnable, Fitzwilliam,” his Uncle cut in, wishing to ease the dear boy’s concerns. “And Madeline said that she has not been herself since returning from Kent. I very much doubt that it is a simple coincidence, much as you may try to convince yourself of the contrary.” 

“Use this time to befriend her,” Penny implored. “Your father and mother were good friends before they started courting, as were Andrew and I. Just...get to know her. Ask her questions, show her the country. Show her you - abandon the mask you don in strange company and show her how you’ve changed.”

His Uncle nodded in agreement, grabbing his wife’s hand and smiling down at her. “Your father and I both married our dearest friends. That is what you must do. I know it may be agony to wait for her love, but it will be all the more puissant if you gain her friendship first.”

Darcy watched his Aunt and Uncle yearningly. He wanted what they had. He wanted what his parents had when they were alive - and he wanted it with Elizabeth. 

His mind was made up. He would seek to befriend her before anything else. It would certainly require little effort to evoke such feelings in himself. He already felt an infrangible connection to Elizabeth, and it would undoubtedly grow stronger as they spent more time together. In his mind, she was already a friend. The biggest obstacle, he knew, would be her own feelings. Although he was unsure of his current stance with her, Darcy couldn’t deny the fact that he was much lower than he wished to be - perhaps too low to be considered anything more than an acquaintance. He needed to show her how similar they were - how much he enjoyed her company and how much she could enjoy his. He would not hide his feelings or contain his smiles this time. 

He would be himself. 

“I know it may sound scandalous,” his Aunt commented, her own thoughts mirroring his, “but I must tell you - there is often little value in restraint, particularly in terms of love and passion. It will serve only to convince others of your indifference.”

Penny knew her nephew to be a passionate man - whatever he felt, he felt strongly. If they were to succeed, Miss Elizabeth would need to be aware of that. She would need to be among the small group of people who saw Darcy without his reserve and accepted him as he was.

“I do not plan on concealing my feelings, Aunt. It served me ill in Hertfordshire and Kent, and I will not allow a repeat performance. Elizabeth must know how I feel before I voice anything she does not wish to hear. I cannot afford to take her by surprise again.”

“That is good,” Elinor supplied, “but you must keep in mind the discrepancy of your feelings. Miss Elizabeth will not feel as strongly at first, and you run the risk of frightening her if you move too quickly.”

Darcy chuckled at that, saying, “I doubt very much I’m capable of frightening Elizabeth. As her Aunt said, she is not easily cowed.” After a moment, he added, “Still, I see your point, Cousin. I intend to be honest and forthright, but I will move slowly. A firm friendship does not sprout overnight, and that is the present goal.”   

Georgiana latched onto her brother’s arm and jumped in excitement. “What is the plan, then?”

“I will write back to Madeline and explain the situation,” Penny debriefed, having gone over the scheme in her head dozens of times during the course of the conversation. “I trust her to handle the matter with discretion. I will request that she and Edward bring Elizabeth to Pemberley instead of Craigspeak. I cannot ask them to lie to their niece, but perhaps if there were a change of plans upon arriving in Derbyshire...It would only be a lie of omission.”

The last part was admitted with some guilt. Penelope was not a naturally duplicitous woman, and she was generally opposed to any approach which employed the use of deceit - but she could not think of another option. Should they be completely honest with Miss Elizabeth, the poor girl might opt out of the trip altogether. They just needed to get her to Pemberley. If she saw that she was welcome, she would likely be willing to stay. How could she not when she saw how changed Fitzwilliam was? Surely, she would be curious, if nothing else. 

Darcy hesitantly nodded. It was a suitable strategy, if a bit underhanded. Still, he would not be so laissez-faire in the consideration of his love’s reaction. “We cannot discount the possibility of Elizabeth being unsettled here. Even if she does not...hate me, she may be discomfited at the prospect of staying in the home of a man she rejected.”

“If that is the case,” Andrew said, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “we will invite her and the Gardiners back to Craigspeak. You would accompany us, of course, but she would likely be more at ease in the home of another, especially one her Aunt and Uncle have stayed at before. I think it would better serve our cause if she were to stay here, but I understand your concern - we will make little progress if she is uncomfortable. However, we must also keep in mind that, as of now, she does not know your feelings. She may very well believe that you resent her for her rejection and would not wish to impose upon you.”

Darcy almost laughed at the notion - he could never resent Elizabeth. What did she say that he did not deserve? In particulars, she was, perhaps, a bit off, but her assessment of his character had been entirely veracious. And look what good had come from her admonishment! Were it not for her, he would have continued in pride and conceit, fatally unaware of his contemptible spirit.   

Oh, it was dangerous, he knew, to hope that her heart could be swayed in his favour. Yet, he could not help it. There was a lightness in his chest at the thought of seeing her, and he found himself unable to contain his smile. For a moment, he forgot the others in the room - his mind was too full of her. She would see his home. She would meet his family! Would she like Derbyshire? Would she like Pemberley? Would she...want to stay? How desperately he wished it to be so! Darcy was determined to do everything in his power to make Elizabeth feel at home. Pemberley was his favourite place in the world, and he should like it to be hers, as well.

For the first time since hearing the news, Darcy was excited. He was still nervous, of course, but there was a fluttering in his stomach that made him feel quite silly - jittery, almost, with a sudden urge to run around. There was much to do! He would have to confer with Mrs. Reynolds - it was a matter of utmost importance that Elizabeth and her relatives received the finest care imaginable. He had no doubt his loyal housekeeper would do just that and more - oh, she would be so pleased to hear of this turn of events!  

Now, what rooms should he have aired out? An irrational part of him wished to put Elizabeth in the family wing, but such a thing could easily perturb her if misconstrued. No, the guest wing would have to do for now, much as it pained him. Still, which room? The eau de nil one, perhaps? The colour scheme was similar to that of his own chamber, and it had a beautiful view of the informal garden. Or maybe the marshmallow room? It was not as beautiful as the former, but it was closer to the library. Oh, perhaps she would like the heliot-

Darcy was shaken from his admittedly frivolous musings by a sudden tap to his shoulder. He turned to find his sister deep in thought, looking down in consternation. 

“Fitzwilliam?” She asked, looking at her now slightly discomposed brother. “The Bingleys and the Hursts are to arrive in two weeks’ time, are they not?”

Oh.

Dammit. 

With all the excitement, he’d quite forgotten about his other guests. Bingley, of course, he’d be delighted to see, and he was confident that the amiable man would have no scruples with Elizabeth’s presence. If anything, it provided Darcy with the perfect opportunity to right another wrong. When Elizabeth was feeling more comfortable in his company, he could ask her if she believed her sister to still be attached to Bingley. If the answer was positive, he would inform his friend straight-away, and Bingley could return to Netherfield. This plan had the added bonus of earning Darcy more time with Elizabeth, as he would undoubtedly accompany his friend. Oh, that would be perfect - to truly get to know Elizabeth in her own home! He had squandered his chances of doing so last autumn, and he would have it done again. 

Yes, Bingley, he decided, would be most welcome. Caroline, however, would likely pose a problem. The orange-bedizened harpy was fully set on becoming the next Mistress of Pemberley, unaware that both its Master and its staff disrelished her greatly. She had about as great a chance of fulfilling her ambition as the capon being plucked in Pemberley’s kitchens - in fact, Darcy would prefer the junglefowl for a wife. Were it not for Bingley, he would have cut ties with her years ago.

Still, he could not do Charles such a great disservice - he tolerated the woman, if only for the sake of his friend. As might be expected, Darcy did everything he could dissuade Miss Bingley from pursuing her ridiculous design, though nothing worked. He had accused Elizabeth of deliberately misunderstanding him, but Caroline did so to an even greater degree. Every small sign of hospitality on his part was construed by her as a hint of attachment. Had he helped her into the carriage? Clearly, he thought her the best woman of his acquaintance! Had he pulled a chair out for her? Well, that was practically a proposal! The mental gymnastics she went through to reach such nonsensical conclusions remained an ever-vexing mystery to Darcy. 

He would not let her malicious tongue and vitriolic temperament ruin his chances with Elizabeth. 

Richard, sensing the turn of his cousin’s mind, pronounced, “Ah, worry not, Darce. We shall ensure that Feathers does nothing to hinder your progress.”

Andrew and Lawrence guffawed at Richard’s statement while the ladies stifled a giggle. ‘Feathers’ had become Miss Bingley’s not-so-endearing nickname amongst the family. The first time they invited the Bingleys to Craigspeak, eager to meet Darcy’s new friend from Cambridge, Caroline had worn one of the most ostentatious, tasteless headdresses the Fitzwilliams had ever seen - which was quite a feat for a family so used the fashion of the Ton . It was a full turban made of bright orange velvet, ornamented with bead and lace trimmings, as well as a large cluster of ostrich feathers and a double plume of peacock feathers. Darcy had warned them, beforehand, that she was a woman of garish tastes, but they had still been wholly unprepared for the sight - she could barely alight from the carriage with all the feathers stacked on her head. The Fitzwilliams were struggling to keep their composure, and when Andrew quietly remarked, “She’s going to fly away,” the younger members of the family lost it completely. Thus, the nickname was born. They tried to keep it between themselves, of course, but they were unaware that both the staff of Pemberley and Craigspeak had adopted it, as well. 

“It will not be difficult to distract her, Fitzwilliam,” Penelope affirmed laughingly. “You know how she fawns over your Uncle and me. Should she become too troublesome, we need only engage her in conversation.”

“Ah,” Andrew bemoaned in jest, “the sacrifices we make for this family, my dear!”

Darcy chuckled at this, shaking his head, “I will make it up to you, Uncle. Perhaps I will miss a few times on our next hunting trip so that you may finally best me.”

Andrew laughed jovially, grabbing his nephew’s shoulders. “Careful, boy. Everyone knows I’m a far better shot than you.” If he saw his wife shake her head, he said nothing - she could make up for it when they retired to their chambers. 

“All you need to do,” he continued earnestly, “is remain on your present path. There is no greater joy than a union of love and friendship. If Miss Elizabeth is the woman you believe you can have that with, we will do all we can to help you - even endure Miss Bingley’s shallow plaudits.” 

Without thinking, Darcy embraced his Uncle, and the older man was all too happy to return the gesture. Penny smiled at the sight, relieved to see her nephew returned to some sense of normalcy.

The warmth in Darcy’s chest threatened to overwhelm him. The band that had been constricting his heart for the past three months finally snapped, and it left him feeling more hopeful than he had since the death of his father. It was an odd feeling - freeing, almost. He felt himself unshackled from the despair that had long since grounded him, able to breathe freely and move unfettered towards his greatest desire. 

His greatest desire, of course, being Elizabeth’s hand and heart. 

It would not be easy, he knew, but it no longer seemed impossible. His family would be there to guide him, and they seemed quite certain of his success. What had he done to deserve them? How was he ever to repay them? He supposed the best thing he could do was exactly what his Uncle said - marry his dearest friend. They wanted nothing but his happiness, and that is what he needed to achieve it. 

So that is what he would do. 

“Aunt?” He asked after a moment. “Are the Gardiners in trade?” 

Penny sent her nephew a questioning glance. “Yes, Mr. Gardiner owns several warehouses. He’s a very successful businessman.”

Darcy grinned. “Do they live near Cheapside?”

“Yes,” she answered, bemused by his line of questioning. “Edward wishes to stay close to his warehouses. They are quite well-off, though. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Darcy laughed. “But Miss Bingley will be quite put-out.” 

Chapter Text

Madeline and Edward Gardiner sat in the small garden behind Longbourn, staring at the letter before them in bemusement. Both had re-read the missive at least three times, yet neither was sure what to make of it. 

With their journey to Derbyshire less than a week away, they had been quite relieved to receive a response from the Fitzwilliams, eager as they were to have set plans for the journey. Naturally, they needed to know if they would actually be spending their month at Craigspeak or if they would be forced to seek alternative arrangements. 

They did not get the answer they were expecting. 

-----

 July 5th, 1812

Madeline Gardiner 

Gracechurch Street - Redirected to Longbourn, Hertfordshire

My dear friend,

That is wonderful news! Andrew and I are so glad that you can spend part of your summer with us, even if it is only one month. We shall have much to discuss, I am sure. 

I do not believe it possible to forget the massive trout that Edward caught - my husband speaks of it quite frequently. One would think that two years’ time would be enough to blunt the edge of his jealousy, but the man is determined to see your husband’s record broken. I imagine you and I will have quite a show to watch this summer. Let us just pray they do not get pulled in again.   

Now, my friend, I must move on to a rather delicate topic. In your letter, you mentioned that your niece, Lizzy, has been out of sorts since returning from Kent. I understand your concern more than you know - my nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, has also been in low spirits since the spring. I am sure the name sounds familiar to you, as it is the very same Fitzwilliam Darcy who stayed at Netherfield last autumn with his friend, Charles Bingley. Netherfield, I understand, is only three miles from Longbourn, which is home to your relatives, the Bennets.  

I must be frank with you, Madeline - my nephew is hopelessly in love with your niece, Elizabeth Bennet. And I do believe that this is what has led them both to their present grief. 

I do not know how much Miss Elizabeth has told you of her acquaintance with Fitzwilliam, but I can only assume that you do not know the whole story. I shall not recapitulate every detail, as it is exceedingly complicated, and my poor hand is not up to the task. All you need know is that, over the course of his stay in Hertfordshire, my nephew fell in love with your niece. He returned to Town hoping to forget her, but he found himself unable to do so. When he made his annual trip to visit my sister-in-law, Lady Catherine, he was quite surprised to find Miss Elizabeth already there. After some deliberation and much agony, he proposed. 

Yes, you did read that correctly. My nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, proposed marriage to your niece, Elizabeth Bennet, while they were in Kent.  

I doubt you will be surprised to learn that she refused him - quite vehemently, actually. I do not blame the girl, of course. He told us of his behavior in Hertfordshire, as well as his proposal - which I shall not repeat - and both were abhorrent. In fact, I would think her very undignified had she actually accepted him after such a poor display. 

When Fitzwilliam returned from Kent, he was more dejected than I have ever seen him. He barely ate, he rarely spoke, and, just like you, we could not discover the source of his despondency. However, he eventually told us of all that transpired between them, and he expressed his infinite regret at having behaved in a manner that drove the woman he loves away. I truly do not think I have ever heard a man so self-recriminating. 

Much as I grieve for him, I cannot pretend that your niece’s words had an undesired effect. She sparked a very great change in Fitzwilliam and, in doing so, addressed an issue with his character that we, as his family, should have attended to long ago. He has always been a kind boy, but loss drove him to pride. Conceit became his close acquaintance, and he often treated those outside his inner circle of friends and family with disdain.  

Through Miss Elizabeth’s influence, he has since mended his ways. I have seen him taking great pains to speak with people outside of his acquaintance, and he does so with an air of equality. I do not think the residents of Lambton and Kympton have ever admired any so much as they now admire him - I should love for you to hear what your old Lambton friends would say. 

I do not tell you all this without reason, my friend. Andrew and I have a significant favour to ask of you and Edward. Would you be willing to spend your month at Pemberley, my nephew’s home, instead of Craigspeak? It is a strange request, I know, but I am certain you understand my motives. 

I cannot claim to know your niece’s heart. Much as the thought pains me, I am not so foolish as to disregard the possibility of her still disliking Fitzwilliam. At present, she has no real reason to think better of him, save for a bitter explanation given hastily in writing. All I ask for is a chance to change her opinion of him. Perhaps nothing will come of it, but I can not allow this opportunity to pass by. 

Please, Madeline, bring her to Pemberley. You should not lie to her, of course, and I would never adjure you to do so, but we do not want to frighten her away before she even arrives. If you were to come to Pemberley under the guise of simply touring it, we could meet you there and make our offer in person. Your niece would see that she is welcome and that Fitzwilliam took her condemnation to heart.

I know we are asking a lot, and I will not think ill of you should you refuse - but I implore you to at least consider it. I assure you, we do not wish to cause your niece any pain or discomfort. I swear that her feelings will be respected. If she is truly uneasy at Pemberley, we will happily relocate our party to Craigspeak. If, God forbid, her feelings remain unchanged, nothing will be forced upon her. All we ask for is a chance - whatever develops from that chance will be accepted, no matter how undesirable. 

If, perchance, you do decide to come to Pemberley, please tell Edward that Fitzwilliam’s trout stream is even more well-stocked than ours. He and Andrew will have much to do, and I’m sure a competition will be had. I am also happy to inform you that all our children are home for the summer, and they are eager to meet you again. It has been far too long, and I fear they can no longer put a face to the name. 

I so look forward to seeing you, my friend, regardless of your answer. I hope that we may meet your niece - with all Fitzwilliam had told us, I imagine her to be quite a delightful woman. In the meantime, please let us know if there’s anything we can prepare to make her more comfortable at the prospect of staying with us. 

I hope to see you very soon. 

Best wishes, 

Penelope Fitzwilliam

-----

The wind pulled at the edges of the paper, threatening to scatter the pages about the countryside, but Madeline’s grip remained steadfast - not, perhaps, out of caution but more out of shock. In truth, the contents of the letter had caught the Gardiners entirely off-guard. Mr. Darcy was in love with Lizzy? The same Mr. Darcy she had aspersed so fervidly last autumn? Surely, it could not be true. Elizabeth had been quite certain of his disesteem, and she had plainly admitted her own distaste for the man.

Still, they could not deny that Penny wrote with great conviction. She could have no sensible impetus for fabricating such a falsehood, and the Countess was not one to lie, especially to her friends. There was even a hint of desperation in her tone of writing as if she were fighting the inclination to beg for their acceptance of her plan. 

Thus, the Gardiners were forced to contend with the fact that Penny was very much in earnest. Mr. Darcy was in love with their Lizzy...and he had proposed! Was that truly the origin of her present gloom? Did she regret rejecting him? Whatever the answer, it was abundantly clear that there was far more to the story than they had been told. They had, of course, suspected as much, given their niece’s recent reticence, but this was not at all what they had envisioned. 

Madeline’s gaze finally left the paper in front of her, eyes landing on her husband. He was still embroiled in the missive, scanning over it rapidly in an attempt to find some sort of joke. He found none, of course - Penelope was entirely serious. 

“What...what should we do?” He asked softly. 

“I do not know,” his wife responded. “It is a strange request, is it not?”

Edward nodded, whispering, “She disliked him. We know she disliked him.”

“Indeed,” Madeline laughed, “But he obviously does not dislike her , despite her prior convictions.”

“Did he not call her tolerable?”

“I doubt any man would propose to a woman he found only tolerable.”

Edward huffed, pulling at his cravat in frustration. “Should we just...ask Lizzy? We cannot force her into his company.”

“We also cannot cajole her into speaking on a subject she clearly wishes to avoid,” his wife rejoined.

It certainly was a tricky situation. Madeline was half of a mind to simply refuse their offer. Lizzy had rejected him - was that not a clear indication of her feelings on the matter? All feelings are subject to change, of course, but even Penny admitted that Lizzy would have no reason to think better of Mr. Darcy. For Heaven’s sake, they had never heard her speak a kind word about the man! How could the Fitzwilliams speak of love when Lizzy did not even like him?

Yet what of her recent behaviour? Much as Madeline may wish to deny it, the timing seemed far too convenient to be mere coincidence. This change in humour had only prevailed upon her return from Kent - immediately after Mr. Darcy’s proposal. Surely, Lizzy wouldn’t be in such low spirits if she did not regret the events of the spring. But did she regret them enough to be in his company again? It was a lot to ask that a woman reconvene with a man she had previously rejected, no matter how resilient said woman may be. This, Madeline knew, was the central issue. 

Whatever their actions, the Gardiner’s inevitably ran the risk of injuring someone, and the thought was less than comforting. Should they refuse, Mr. Darcy may be grieved at the loss of such propitious opportunity. Should they accept, however, Lizzy may feel herself betrayed. The tiniest part of Madeline - a part which was easily overcome by an abundance of reason and a clement nature - was a bit incensed at the Fitzwilliams for placing the onus on them. Who were they to decide the fate of the young couple? 

She voiced as much to her husband, who jokingly replied, “Come, my dear, you sound like my sister!” Upon realizing that his wife did not find the comparison so very humorous, he gave a more sincere reply. “We would not be deciding their fates. Whatever our actions, their future is still very much in their own hands. Even if we do bring them together - for that is all we can do - they must be the ones to make the connection. You know as well as I do that such a thing cannot be forced.”

Though Madeline recognized the sense in her husband’s words, she still felt uneasy. “Do you not think it unfair to Lizzy? Perhaps she regrets how things played out, but that does not necessarily mean she wishes to see him again.”

“Very true,” Edward conceded. “And to trick her into his home when we do not know her feelings seems almost cruel.” He thought for a moment, weighing their options. Again, there did not seem to be a clear answer - the advantages seemed equal to the disadvantages, and the possibility of suffering was ever-present on either side. This decision, he knew, would be incredibly simple if they were only aware of Lizzy’s present opinion of the man. Did she truly wish to see him again? Was it right to mislead her so?

“We cannot ask outright,” Madeline said leerily, “But perhaps I can try an indirect approach.”

“How do you mean?”

“If I mention Mr. Darcy, she may give me some hint as to her feelings on the matter.”

“I suppose that could work,” Edward commented thoughtfully. “It is worth a try, at the very least.” Their niece, though well-composed in times of tension, was not inscrutable - certainly not to them. Her face may very well betray her, even if her tongue will not.   

With great fixity of purpose, Madeline stood. Her husband, surprised by the action, instinctively grabbed her wrist. “You’re going now?”

She nodded. “Lizzy is at Oakham Mount. You know she will not tell me anything if her mother is near. Now is as good a time as any, and we cannot keep the Fitzwilliams waiting too long.”

Mr. Gardiner let out a sigh as he kissed his wife’s hand - unflinchingly stalwart, even in so precarious a position. She was a pertinacious sort, and he knew that any attempts to protract their plan would now be met with failure. Whatever Lizzy’s response, he was certain that Madeline would get what she wanted. 

And Madeline Gardiner wanted her niece to be happy.