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Chapter 1

A Letter Unbound

19 April 1812

Dear Sir,

I am truly sorry for any disappointment this letter may cause you. You may wonder why you are receiving a letter from me. Despite the potential consequences, I felt compelled to share my thoughts with you. My sister confided in me about your recent interactions and the contents of your letter. Please do not be alarmed. She needed someone she could trust to confide in, and I assure you of my discretion. We share a bond of trust and understanding. I write to you with utmost candour, and I hope this reassures you of my intentions.

I write to share some thoughts that have weighed on my mind since learning about your dealings. I am deeply sorry for any pain this has caused you. You must understand that, from the very start, my sister's perception of you was marred. When you refused to dance with her at the assembly and made disparaging remarks about her, she heard you. It painfully reminded her of our mother's constant comparisons and criticism. She grew up believing she was unworthy next to my supposed beauty. Your words, though perhaps not intended to wound, struck a deep chord. She even entertained the notion, however foolish, that you regarded her only to find fault; no argument convinced her otherwise. I regret that you were the unwitting bearer of this weight.

Elizabeth is a spirited and self-reliant woman. Her initial animosity towards you, fuelled by your former friend's deceit, was a result of her strong character and free spirit. It blinded her to your true character. Perhaps she needed to perceive you unfavourably so she could dismiss your estimation of her as merely "tolerable". I believe it is important for you to know that despite her harsh words, there are those who recognise your true value.

You were correct in your estimation of my feelings about your friend. My sister had been under the impression that he and I were deeply attached. My mother quickly heard wedding bells after your friend asked me to dance twice at the assembly. I should have said no to the second dance, but he made his offer before my mother. I admired him, certainly, to an extent, and I had nothing against your friend then (I do now), and I am sure I would have been an excellent wife to him had he asked. In light of his attentions, I had resigned myself to accepting his offer, should he have made one.

You know my family's situation, but perhaps not in detail. Our estate is entailed upon our cousin, whom you also met at the ball. I would have been his choice of wife if not for my mother insisting that I was practically engaged. I am grateful for that piece of deliverance.

Opportunities for marriage are not plentiful for women in our situation. I could easily see myself accepting your friend's regard; I would have strived to find happiness in such a match, for what greater duty could a woman undertake than to be content with a man's honest affection? Even if my heart did not reach for his, I would have trusted that contentment might grow. My sense of duty is perhaps stronger than my inclinations, and I might have learned to care for him, as any wife must, had he sought my hand. To be sure, I am not indifferent to feelings, but my heart at the time was, indeed, untouched.

I know well enough that affection may be learnt, but what of the heart's yearning? Although your friend is kind and full of energy, I find myself drawn to steadier qualities – a man who knows his own mind and deliberates rather than acts on impulse, who treasures both reason and knowledge. Such qualities lend strength to a man's character, forming a foundation that no whim may shake. But, in truth, your friend is not inclined to books. I admire a man who knows his duty and stands firm in it; instead, your friend allowed himself to be persuaded and left me behind without a second thought.

You are a man of many admirable qualities, often hidden behind a mask of reserve. I recognised your mask, for I wear one as well. People see my beauty and make many assumptions, but few take the time to truly know me. I suspect you face similar misconceptions due to your wealth and demeanour.

I wonder what you think, where you escape mentally in these situations. I dream of escaping this place. If not through marriage, then perhaps by starting a business one day. I have some money saved and invested with my uncle and possess skills that might be useful (a talent for numbers, can bake, and know about herbs and medicinal plants). Perhaps I can make a start in a few years, but I digress.

I told my sister that you were correct about your friend. After some time, she accepted that I knew my mind better than she did. The sad fact is nobody forced your friend to stay in London; he should have known his mind. You are not responsible for his caprice.

I sincerely hope this letter has given you a better understanding and vindication that you were partially correct.

I shall try to deliver this letter before we leave for home.

God bless,

Chapter 2

An Unlikely Endeavour

Monday, 20 April 1812

With a heart full of courage, Jane sat in the hired carriage heading towards Mr Darcy's house in London. The sound of the wheels provided a steady cadence, but it did little to quiet the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Each jolt of the carriage seemed to echo her uncertainty. Her heart raced in sync with the vehicle's rhythmic motion. She struggled to calm herself, inhaling slowly as doubts and fears filled her mind. Why was she embarking on this risky endeavour? If anybody found out… The potential consequences loomed large in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

Her family's name, her own reputation, and even Mr Darcy's – everything hung precariously in the balance. Yet, despite the daunting prospect, she could not suppress the small, stubborn voice that whispered of the importance of this errand.

She was on the verge of turning back, yet she found the strength to continue; something made her hesitate. As Jane's carriage rattled through London's streets, the words she had penned felt bolder than her usual self – a quiet assertion of her thoughts she rarely expressed aloud. Elizabeth was accustomed to confronting even the most imposing of men, yet here she was, attempting to bridge that same distance, if only in writing.

As intimidating as Mr Darcy could be, Jane sensed something magnetic in his quiet strength and unwavering manner, a calm so unlike Mr Bingley's delightful exuberance. There was an intensity to him, a sense that his actions were deliberate, even when veiled by his reserved exterior. He seemed to study Elizabeth's remarks with such gravity, meeting her boldness with the rarest hint of a smile, she reflected on that November evening in Netherfield's parlour she spent with the others. Jane's heart quickened then as she recognised the power in his steadiness and depth – a force that drew her toward a new kind of admiration.

It was not just his steadiness that intrigued her but the quiet resolve beneath it. She wondered how often he carried such burdens without complaint.

Could I ever speak so candidly to him? she wondered then. Bingley's attentions were bright and warming like summer sunlight, yet there was a different strength in Darcy that had drawn her in. Would a man like that see her with equal regard? And even more – could she find the strength to stand as boldly before him as Elizabeth had? The question lingered as the carriage moved on; her pulse quickened with a sense of newfound purpose.

At the very least, she wanted to give Mr Darcy some peace, a vindication for influencing Mr Bingley. Her sister had been harsh with him for that – Elizabeth begrudged him for trying to save his friend from an unequal attachment, something she herself had done when Charlotte accepted Mr Collins's proposal. Jane felt strongly about the unfairness of it all and did not want him to be miserable, least of all for anything to do with her. What sorrow he must carry in silence… She clutched her small reticule to her chest as if it tried to escape from her. In it was a letter she had been compelled to write.

Of course, she knew it was most improper for an unmarried lady to pen a letter to a single gentleman. Her former self would certainly have shied away from such a scandalous undertaking. Now, at the end of her London sojourn, she felt as if she were transformed; at least, she dearly hoped so. This was her only means to reach out to him and convey that he was correct regarding his friend. Her letter was a blend of honesty and humility, a quiet appeal for understanding. She had read and reread the words, tweaking each phrase until it struck the perfect balance between candour and propriety.

She did not harbour any ill feelings toward Mr Darcy for dissuading his friend. Although Mr Bingley's connection would have meant a lot to her family, and she would have been comfortably settled, his lack of resolve to pursue her did not endear him to her. She would rather inspire a man to act; his absence, despite his promise to return, meant he did not have the character of a true gentleman.

She glanced out of the window without seeing the beautiful homes they passed.

She had weighed her options for delivering the letter. They were few. Either she did it herself, or she had to involve someone else. The latter was out of the question. She could not risk others finding out and thus endangering her family's good name. Therefore, she lied. She could not remember a time she had done that. Such deception was not in her nature. She had lied to her beloved Aunt Gardiner, who now thought she was on a mission to get a last-minute gift from Gunter's for her family. She chose her destination well. Gunter's shop was a place a lady could go without a chaperone.

She had also avoided Elizabeth and the need to lie about where she was going, so she had fled. She had never gone behind her sister's back. This mission, including writing the letter, was out of character for her – she admitted with a heavy heart. Arguing with Lizzy would have been pointless. Regardless, she felt it was right to help Mr Darcy so that he could heal. She had to depart before Lizzy could insist upon accompanying her.

***

Jane had noticed that Elizabeth was not herself when she arrived on Saturday. She seemed impatient and could hardly wait for them to retire. They burnt several candles before they finally fell asleep.

What a remarkable account she told!

Mr Darcy had proposed to her? Jane's stomach constricted at this news. As quick as her reaction, she quickly waved such thoughts away. She was genuinely happy for her sister until she realised the silly girl had rejected a man from the first circle without a second thought.

She rejected a man who had listened to her arguments and taken them seriously. She refused a clever, educated man who liked to read like her. Further, she rejected a man who always did his duty and cared for his much younger sister. She refused a man who helped his aunt with her estate every year and generously guided a friend with his first lease of an estate. Finally, and worst of all, she rejected a man who loved her.

Jane listened in shock as Elizabeth told her the things she said in response that she felt were an attack on her person. Oh, Lizzy! What a mess you made! As her sister kept talking, all Jane could imagine was the man rejected and suffering. He did not deserve her sister's vitriol. His letter suggested as much.

Jane told her sister that Mr Darcy was correct about her feelings for Mr Bingley.

Her sister protested vehemently. "But, Jane, how can you say that? He was paying you the greatest compliment. You were always together!"

"Yet, he never specifically called on me."

"But his attentions at the ball…"

"Lizzy, do you hear yourself? It was his attentions, not mine. All I could do was politely tolerate it. I do not assert that it did not flatter me; indeed, it did, for to be first in someone's esteem is invariably agreeable. However, that does not equate to love, Lizzy. And he gave up on me at the first hurdle!"

Jane insisted that she welcomed him as her suitor, but her heart was not yet truly touched. He was not the kind of man she had imagined for herself.

Lizzy just gaped at her sister's revelations.

She reluctantly explained that she just went with the flow because she knew they had few options; her mother, her sisters, and the whole town expected an engagement. He paid attention to her. Then he left her. Now, she understood that he had left her because his friends and sisters had dissuaded him from pursuing her. That did not show Mr Bingley in a favourable light. She tried to explain to Elizabeth that it was Mr Bingley who allowed himself to be persuaded. Why would she want a husband like that? She was not overly injured by what Mr Darcy did. His intentions were without malice.

***

Before she had enough time to stop her hands from shaking, the cab came to a halt. She heard the driver descend. Her heartbeat was so fast and loud that she could hardly hear the man speaking. Without thinking, she reached out her hand to take the driver's to alight from the vehicle. She smoothed the folds of her gown with trembling fingers, her gaze darting between the grand carriage and the imposing doorway ahead. The magnitude of her decision felt overwhelming at that moment. She looked around as she stepped onto the street but did not recognise her surroundings. It took her a few seconds to register what she saw.

It was a wide street. The air was crisp, carrying the faint aroma of morning dew mingled with the distant scent of baked bread from a nearby vendor. It was empty, an unusual sight compared to where her uncle's house was situated. The homes here were grand, white stone, and tall. The morning sun on the glazing of so many large windows blinded her. In front of her hired carriage was a much grander one. Her driver gestured with his hand to the home in front of the elegant, luxurious carriage, her destination.

She could still turn away. But then, her letter would have been written in vain. She took a steadying breath, straightened her posture, and adjusted her bonnet and favourite gloves. That gave her confidence. She would simply knock on that big, dark wood, overly decorated door and leave the letter for Mr Darcy. Then she would go.

At that very second, the elaborate door opened. She looked on helplessly as Mr Darcy himself descended the stairs. He was formidable, but his handsome features were grim. He looked tired, pale, and uninviting. Poor man! She had not seen him since…the ball at Netherfield.

***

Mr Darcy had not had a good night's rest. He had awakened this morning just as tired as the night before. The woman he loved, no, had loved, he corrected himself, had rejected him. His heart was heavy with the weight of her rejection, and a hollow ache settled within him.

He was eager to cast aside and erase her presence from his mind and heart. He was impatient to feel whole. He was impatient to be free from the shackles of his unreciprocated love. He longed for the day when Hunsford would no longer haunt him.

To make things worse, he had been rejected in the worst possible manner. Her accusations had struck with the precision of a dagger. Each word replayed in his mind, a cruel refrain that refused to fade. Her vehemence in insulting him shook him. By her words, he was the last man she could ever be prevailed on to marry! To his great shock, she despised him. He physically felt her eyes burning with such derision and hate.

He had offered her his heart, and she rejected it without mercy.

Ten days had passed. He could not but reflect on what had happened.

For one, he had scarcely considered her position. That she might refuse him had never truly entered his mind. Everybody wanted him. For years, women tried their best to receive his favour. He smiled bitterly as he thought of the many times that some had tried to compromise him. He had become good at detecting and avoiding these created situations. No matter though; now, the woman he wanted did not want him. He had paid her the greatest compliment a man could give to a woman, and she threw it away as if it had been nothing, less than nothing. She trampled on his offering without consideration.

Her previously general, happy countenance had not given away how she had really felt about him. He had had no idea.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he had never had to put any effort into pursuing a woman, so perhaps his words were not the best thought out. After all, he was nervous. He hardly could recall his exact words, but they had undoubtedly caused offence. How could a proposal of marriage be seen as an insult to a lady? He even tried to explain that her situation did not matter to him, that she had conquered him totally, even against his station, his family's expectations, and her own situation. How could she so misinterpret his words? He was not insulting her; he loved her! That was not his greatest sin, though: she had learnt about his role in separating her sister, Miss Bennet, from Bingley. The weight of these misunderstandings and accusations bore down upon him, stirring a tempest of emotions within.

How could she possibly know?

Then, she accused him of mistreatingWickham. Wickham! That was a low blow. It was the ultimate nail in his fragile love's coffin. The woman he had thought would not just be a wife, but a life partner thought he had no honour! A man without honour was nothing. She felt that he had gone against his father's will and was capable of throwing his childhood friend out for no reason. Worse, she thought Wickham was an innocent victim of his malice! She had not known him at all, and she had not wanted to know him.

He was proud of how he had vindicated himself. He addressed everything in a letter. Now, she knew she had been unjust in her estimation of his character. In her sister's case, he genuinely thought she did not care for his friend. It was not that he thought Miss Bennet was a fortune hunter, but he felt she would say yes because of the family pressure. He had wanted to protect Bingley. A thought occurred to him that maybe he was influenced by the fact that he wanted to escape his own lady's presence, but soon, he dismissed that thought as that did not alter his observations of the lady. Miss Bennet was lovely and pleasant but did not look like someone whose heart was touched. Mind that, who was he to tell…he could not even tell that his own beloved hated him.

Then, another thought intruded.

How fiercely she guards those she loves. Such a sister could only think the worst of me, a man she perceives as an enemy to her family's happiness. And in my pride, I played the villain in her eyes – a role I took upon myself in error. Yet I see now that her loyalty and strength are not faults; they are virtues I once wished to champion by her side.

He considered, perhaps for the first time, how his own pride had blinded him to her perspective. His motives, though sincere, had left a trail of wounded hearts and unintended consequences. And now, he found himself weighed down by the very consequences he had sought to prevent.

These and similar thoughts kept intruding and putting him in a treacherous mood.

Nonetheless, it was time to face London.

He had buried himself in his study to lick his wounds. But resolve, he reminded himself, was a gentleman's duty. No matter how deep the wound, life could not stand still. Yesterday was the first time he came out of his den, bathed, had his man shave him, and appropriately dressed. He was angry at himself for letting himself go. Today, he was on his way to his club. He took his hat and walking stick from the footman. As he stepped out, he noticed what a heavenly morning it was; the sun smiled at him. He needed this. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of determination return – fragile, but enough to carry him forward. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he straightened and descended the stairs.

Chapter 3

Letter Delivered and Jane Panics

Jane looked on as if everything had slowed down. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her breath coming in shallow gasps. This is not happening. She was supposed to deliver her letter, and that was to be it. She was not prepared to meet him.

Mr Darcy was about to enter his coach when he noticed another carriage at the curb. As he stepped up the stairs of his carriage, he looked in that direction, vaguely registering that it was a hired vehicle and that a lady was standing next to it. Something about her figure and posture struck a chord of recognition. There was something familiar about her. After a second or two, he stepped back. He looked in her direction again. His eyes widened, eyebrows lifted in surprise, as he straightened his posture.

Jane's throat tightened as his searching gaze landed on her. She wanted to disappear, to melt into the cobblestones beneath her feet, yet she couldn't bring herself to flee.

He shook his head as if not believing his eyes. He glanced around, looking for someone.

Jane understood and shook her head slightly. Mr Darcy noticed her movement and sighed deeply in response. He did not even realise that he had not been breathing.

She must know, he thought. A flicker of something he couldn't quite name – a mix of dread and curiosity – stirred within him. His cheeks and ears blushed. "Miss Bennet!" Mr Darcy stepped toward Jane, his heart pounding in his chest. He seemed hesitant at first, but his heart drummed inwardly.

Jane curtsied elegantly, though inside, she was less relaxed. Her knees trembled beneath her skirts, and she gripped the edges of her reticule as if it were a lifeline.

"Miss Bennet," said Mr Darcy more calmly.

Jane looked up and gazed into his eyes. Time seemed to slow down again as she noticed his deep, dark brown eyes searching her own, looking for reassurance or answers. His guarded expression softened just slightly as their gazes locked. Suddenly, Jane relaxed and focused on him. Her eyes drank in his person. She had forgotten what a prime specimen this man was. Shaking off her initial distraction, she resolved to give him the answers he needed.

"Mr Darcy," Jane finally said, but her voice let her down. She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and said, "I daresay you are taken aback by my unexpected presence."

"Yes." Again, he looked around. "Miss Bennet! Are you…quite alone?" His voice carried both astonishment and a hint of unease. He did not know what to make of Miss Bennet's appearance at his house. He had a sinking feeling that it was not a mere accident, that it had to do with Eli… Miss Elizabeth. "Are you lost?" What a question; of course, she is not lost. He felt like he was a character in a dream, but at the same time, its bystander viewer. He could not control what was happening, what came out of his mouth.

"Yes, well, I am fully aware that my visit is highly improper, and I regret disturbing your peace, yet I felt compelled to come. I did not intend to meet you, but…" Her voice faltered, and she adjusted the hem of her sleeve, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

"Pray, what is it that you wish to convey, Miss Bennet?"

Jane looked back at him, her hands trembling. A voice inside her questioned her decision. This was it; this was why she came. Could she give him her letter? Once it is done, it cannot be undone. She needed to be brave. It could help him in a small way. With a forced smile, she looked around and finally said, "I – I brought you a letter."

Mr Darcy drew in a breath, a glimmer of hope igniting his eyes. Could it be from her? From Elizabeth? A spark of anticipation flared before he could tamp it down.

A pang of guilt twisted in her stomach as she saw the hope in his eyes. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task at hand – she must temper his delicate hope. "No, it is not from Lizzy. She does not even know I have come." She straightened, "It is from me, Mr Darcy."

Somewhat deflated, Mr Darcy wondered. "From you? She does not know?" Darcy felt a secondary pain as he acknowledged that Miss Elizabeth, in fact, had not sought him out. However, Miss Bennet's presence in front of his house was still surreal to him.

"Yes. Yes and no. No, she does not know."

"I see." Well, he did not see. After deliberating, he spoke suggesting. "In that case, please come inside, Miss Bennet. You could wait…you could wait with Georgiana while I read the letter."

"That is not necessary, Mr Darcy. You are most kind, Mr Darcy, yet it would be improper for me to impose," she politely declined.

"It would be proper with Mrs Annesley present. She is my sister's companion… I insist." Mr Darcy's tone was firm as he gestured toward his door. He was intrigued.

Jane, on the other hand, panicked. The walls of her resolve seemed to crumble. "Why do I not just give you the letter? We certainly do not need to discuss it," – she mumbled – "I had intended merely to leave it with your butler."

"But now I am here, and you would not let me be impolite and not invite you in, would you? After all, you have come a long way." His lips curved into a faint, disarming smile, one that almost convinced her to agree despite her misgivings. "Let me introduce you to my sister. She is kind; you may talk about music and have tea. Or you could just tell me…"

Jane shook her head.

"Then I shall read the letter. If there is anything there to discuss, we shall find a way. I shall make sure you get home safely. May I have it?"

"Oh, I am uncertain, I confess," she wavered.

"You do not want me to read the letter?"

"Pardon? I am sorry, of course." She opened her reticule and took out the folded letter. She stepped closer and discretely offered it to Mr Darcy. "I just do not want to impose."

"I assure you, your presence here is no imposition, Miss Bennet. You're indeed most welcome. In truth, I find myself curious about the contents of your letter!" He smiled at her encouragingly, "Come. I shall not take no for an answer." Meanwhile, he put the letter in his breast pocket.

Jane admitted defeat.

Mr Darcy, seeing this, nodded and left her side to pay her driver. "The lady does not need you to wait for her," he addressed the driver. "I shall arrange for her transportation home. Thank you for your services." He generously gave the man a few coins and apologised to his coachman that he would need the drive later. "Shall we?" Mr Darcy offered his arm to Jane. She took a big breath and accepted his arm.

Mr Darcy was nothing but curious. For Miss Bennet to come to his house to deliver a letter – her letter – seemed highly out of character. He had not learnt much about her despite staying at Netherfield for a while last autumn, but she always behaved as a gentlewoman should. The fact that she departed from decorum in visiting him, a single gentleman's home, to deliver this communication strangely intrigued him instead of wishing to judge her. She meant a connection to Miss Elizabeth, he sighed, and she seemed to know about him and her.

Jane paused as they passed through the imposing door, overwhelmed by the sight. The hall was elegantly understated, yet every detail seemed meticulously designed to convey wealth and power but with an underlying sense of taste and restraint. Her eyes wandered over the precise craftsmanship of the mosaic floor, the ornate vases nestled in small alcoves, and the intricate wood panelling that adorned the walls. She could not help but marvel at the beauty and refinement surrounding her. This could have been Lizzy's home!

As he watched Jane's reactions, Darcy thought, I hurt this beautiful, unassuming lady. He also observed her reactions. Most ladies would pretend that what they saw in his townhouse was everything normal, everything they were used to. One did not often see a genuine reaction. Miss Bennet was just as rare as her sister. I shall rectify this, should I not be too late. I cannot bear the thought of her longing for my friend. For a split second, he considered whether he was going to do anything about the situation if he had not met her, just now.

"Your home, sir, is truly remarkable," Jane said, still looking around.

"Thank you."

Three servants appeared suddenly and took their outerwear. Mr Darcy gave instructions for refreshments to one of them. He turned to Jane. "Let me take you to the music room. That's where my sister will be." He showed her the way upstairs. "Georgiana, may I disturb you?" Mr Darcy opened the door to the music room with a genuine smile.

Inside stood a tall, lovely girl of about sixteen-seventeen, accompanied by an older lady.

So, this is Georgiana, Jane thought. A twinge of sympathy stirred within her as she noted the girl's timid demeanour. Miss Darcy was elegantly dressed, her fair complexion and light hair contrasting her brother's dark curls. Her body was already of a young woman, but her shyness radiated from her and informed others of her youth. It was clear that she admired her brother immensely; her eyes flicked to him for reassurance.She is far too young to be courting anyone, let alone Mr Bingley, Jane mused, feeling a fresh wave of dismay at Miss Bingley's deceitful letter and her own susceptibility to it.

Mr Darcy's voice interrupted her musing. "Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Bennet. She had heard a lot about you and came to call to make your acquaintance. If you remember, I wrote about meeting her when I visited Bingley in Hertfordshire last year. Miss Bennet has been staying with her aunt and uncle."

Jane was taken aback by Mr Darcy's white lie but then let it go. What other explanation could he give her? Miss Darcy stood up and demurely curtsied.

Jane did the same. "Miss Darcy, I am sorry to intrude unannounced, but I shall soon return home to our estate, and indeed, I wished to make your acquaintance."

"No, that is, you are very welcome. My brother told me about his stay there and how much he enjoyed the neighbourhood."

Jane took a questioning look at Mr Darcy.

He showed a half-smile and chagrined. "I did have a nice time," he insisted half-heartedly with feigned indignation.

Jane giggled. "If that is your assertion, Mr Darcy, I shall take you at your word, Mr Darcy."

Darcy was initially taken aback but soon delighted by her playful challenge. "The shooting and the fishing were indeed magnificent," he added with a smile.

Jane laughed, and Darcy, unable to resist, joined in moderately.

Georgiana watched the exchange with a mix of confusion and curiosity. Her brother never bantered with ladies. Is this lady special? My brother never brings home ladies to introduce them to me, she thought, looking at Miss Bennet with newfound interest.

Mr Darcy cleared his throat and introduced Mrs Annesley as Miss Darcy's companion. The ladies curtsied, and Georgiana remembered to offer everybody to sit, so they sat on the comfortable couches. Darcy chose to sit on a chair.

Jane cleared her throat. "Miss Darcy, am I right in thinking you are not yet out?"

Georgiana nodded.

"I ask because experiencing London then must not be as exciting as if you were going from ball to ball," Jane explained.

"You are right, Miss Bennet. For the time being, I am thankful that I am not out. I am busy enough with my music and the masters." As an afterthought, she told no one in particular, "I know not if I shall ever be ready."

"I have heard of your proficiency in music. As for coming out, you just probably need time. There is no rush. You are lucky, Miss Darcy. I was out when I was fifteen!"

"How – how is that possible?"

"Well, the rules are less stringent in the countryside. Everyone knows each other. I was not much of a debutante: my mother declared me out at the village assembly after my fifteenth birthday. There was no fanfare, no special ball. No curtsying in front of the Queen… I am afraid my mother has a lot on her plate that consumes her energy. She has five daughters to bestow in marriage."

Darcy listened to their conversation, his thoughts swirling. It was nice to see his sister reacting to Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet…what did she say? Five daughters to marry… He never thought of it like that. He just thought of her mother as a typical grasping mother…was he too harsh? What other avenue did she have? She was alone in her mission with a husband who only cared as long as he was not inconvenienced, and their lack of proper dowry did not help either.

He also realised that this was the first time he had interacted with Miss Bennet and listened to her share her thoughts. What a pleasant conversationalist! In Hertfordshire, he was so occupied with his own troubles… He allowed, with chagrin, that he automatically disregarded her once Bingley showed interest in her.

"Oh, if only I could have a coming out like that! I should not say I like all the attention I shall receive. My aunt, Lady Matlock, has been discussing everything that needs to be done. It is overwhelming! She already started to put together the guestlist for my ball, even if it does not happen until next year or the year after."

Darcy just caught his sister's mention of her coming out…, and his eyes widened at his aunt's early actions.

"Yes, brother, she showed it to me not long ago, saying one can never start too early." Georgiana had just realised she had spoken more to a stranger than ever. She enjoyed talking to this Miss Bennet. She was unlike the ladies visiting, who only wanted to get a chance to get acquainted with her brother. "You mentioned you have four sisters, Miss Bennet. What is that like?" Georgiana asked, her curiosity piqued.

Jane laughed. "Well, it is certainly lively and perhaps a bit different from your experience here, especially with a brother like Mr Darcy."

"Excuse me, what is wrong with me?" Darcy interjected with pretend indignation.

"Well, you are not known for your verbosity." Jane found her banter liberating. Have I just mocked him? She surprised herself.

Darcy squinted his eyes. Did she just mock him? "I see when I am not wanted. If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have a letter to read. I shall return shortly." He stood and bowed theatrically. "Ladies."

Both Jane and Georgiana laughed at his playful departure, a rare sight for his sister.

Georgiana looked at Jane and marvelled. "This is your doing, Miss Bennet. My brother has not been himself since he returned from Hunsford. He visited our aunt and cousin there. Look at him now – he is smiling!"

Jane smiled, too. Of course, he has been suffering. I hope the letter affords him a measure of solace. "So, you wanted to hear what it was like to have four sisters?"

With a grin, Darcy descended the stairs, heading for his study. What has just transpired? he wondered, uncertain of its implications. He had never seen Miss Bennet so free and unguarded. Her usual serene smile had always seemed somewhat regulated, but she had shed that mask today. It was refreshing. She is wonderful for Georgiana, he mused, hasteninghis steps as curiosity about the letter swelled within him. Reaching his study, he closed the door firmly, signalling he did not wish to be disturbed. His staff knew well to respect this signal.

Standing at his desk, Darcy hesitated briefly before moving to his favourite armchair by the fire. The feel of the letter in his pocket was a compelling presence. What could she have written? Why had she gone to such lengths to deliver it herself? He took it from his breast pocket and poured himself some lemonade, which his housekeeper had thoughtfully provided in hopes of curbing his brandy consumption.

The paper felt warm in his hand as if it carried the weight of her intentions. He found himself hesitating, taking in the neat script of his name before finally breaking the seal. He found himself admiring the elegance of her hand[1] before starting to read.

[1] Handwriting – common Regency term

Chapter 14

Ladies and Compliments

Mr Darcy chuckled and took a cookie. "Yes, thank you, Miss Bennet. It is good to see you."

Jane watched as he took a bite, her heart beating faster than she liked to admit.

"Er, very good," he said, his voice lower, more intimate.

Jane finally managed to gather herself and offered a soft smile. "Mr Darcy, welcome to Longbourn. I am sorry you must see me like this," she gestured at her attire, her cheeks warming under his gaze.

Darcy's eyes, in an unguarded moment, swept over her from head to toe, lingering just a fraction too long. "Not at all, Miss Bennet. You look very…fetching." His grin was boyish, disarming.

For a moment, Jane simply stared at him, her blush deepening at his words. "Oh, thank you. I was in the kitchen," she explained, her voice almost a whisper.

"Yes, I know. Your mother mentioned you were busy baking for the tenants. Very admirable." Darcy was enjoying their interlude. She was discomposed. He affected her. Definitely not indifferent.

"You've come," Jane repeated, more to herself than to him. She was startled when Mr Darcy reached for his handkerchief and was about to…wipe her face?

Darcy instinctively reached for his handkerchief to wipe away the flour on her face but caught himself mid-action. The impropriety of such a gesture struck him, yet the impulse lingered, unbidden and telling. He quickly pulled back and slipped it back into his pocket. As he watched her, he decided he liked her just as she was, flour and all.

Jane blushed, and her hand flew to her face, brushing at the flour self-consciously.

"Yes, I've come," Mr Darcy said, his voice slightly rougher, as if fighting some internal battle. He flexed his hand at his side, then continued, "Miss Bennet, from your letter to Georgiana, I gather that you are under a misapprehension about why I have come."

"I am?" Jane asked, her heart suddenly in her throat.

"Yes." He nodded, his eyes searching hers. "You seem to believe it is your sister I have come to visit. Am I correct?"

Jane blinked, trying to piece together his meaning. "Have you not?"

"No," Darcy said firmly, shaking his head. "I am not here to pursue your sister. That ship has sailed. I told you after the theatre. We had…reached an understanding."

"Not my sister? But…" Jane's voice trailed off in confusion.

"No."

"Then what are y…?"

Darcy stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her. "I would have thought that would be obvious, Miss Bennet," he interrupted gently. He looked anew into her blue eyes. "It is you. I came to see you."

At that, Jane trembled, caught off guard by the intensity of his words. "Mme? Why?" She did not know what to think. What more, she did not dare to think.

Mr Darcy moved another small step forward, his gaze fixed upon her. "Because you wrote me that letter," he said plainly, as though it explained everything.

Before Jane could respond, they both heard someone approaching. Darcy's expression tightened with frustration at the interruption. "We shall talk later if you allow it," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jane could only nod, her mind still reeling. Her mind raced but dared not let her hopes rise too high. She turned to see who was coming, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions.

Elizabeth appeared, her eyes quickly assessing the situation. "Jane, here you are…and with Mr Darcy. Erm, Mother sent me to fetch you to change and join us for tea, with Mr Darcy." Elizabeth looked from one to the other.

Jane felt like she was in a dream, barely able to focus on her sister's words. "Oh yes, please, take this plate to Father. I shall change quickly if you'll excuse me, Mr Darcy. I shall return shortly."

"Please, take your time," Darcy said with a bow, his voice more formal than before. "I shall take a short stroll in the garden, if I may." He turned to Elizabeth. "If you could show me the way, Miss Elizabeth…"

Jane offered a quick smile before turning and fleeing up the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt weightless like she was floating. As she stepped through her door, she closed it and sagged against it. What has just happened? she thought. What does it mean that he came to see me? She wondered, her mind racing. For what reason? He said it was my letter. Why? What did I say that brought him here? Her hectic thoughts demanded answers.

The maid she asked for knocked on the door at that moment, which made her jump. After letting her in, Jane was in her small clothes in seconds, refreshing herself. She looked into the mirror. He said he found me fetching. Oh, my! Was he flirting with her? The idea sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach – a feeling she did not want to let go. She had never felt this excitement; her heart beat in her throat, her stomach clenched… No, she felt like that, alive, all day when she saw him in London.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth turned to Darcy, curiosity burning in her eyes. "Mr Darcy, if I may."

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy replied, his expression guarded.

"Uhm. Why are you here?"

"I am here with my sister for a sojourn from the Season. I said as much to your mother, and now I am paying you and your family my respects.

"Come now, Mr Darcy. It is only us here," tried Elizabeth. "What do you expect from this? Your appearance here? Jane asked me about you, in fact, and how I would respond if you showed up. I never considered it a possibility – I must be losing my touch. No, I am right! We have said our goodbyes… You said you did not want to try again, and I think you have moved on. But now, here you are. Mr Darcy, we both know that this is not a courtesy call."

Darcy, in shock, just looked at her.

"Have you come to see me?" Her voice was more contemplative. She searched his face, but when he did not answer immediately, she followed her thoughts to their inevitable conclusion. "I – I do not think you have come to see me – you've hardly addressed me. Am I right? If not me… Could it be…?" She turned her gaze toward the staircase where Jane had disappeared, understanding dawning on her.

Darcy closed his eyes briefly, a gesture Elizabeth did not miss. "You haven't come to see me… You… asked after Jane… Yes, I am right, am I not? You are not here to see me!"

Mr Darcy looked down, examining his boots.

She watched as Darcy averted his gaze, confirming her suspicions. Elizabeth smiled triumphantly. "I do not know if I should feel offended or…happy for my sister. The only time I have seen you relaxed was in London, with… Jane. You two seemed to be so natural with each other. You sought each other's company. You did not know… You are different. You have asked about her. It is her, is it not? I feel like I've just disrupted something."

Darcy finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable.

"You've come to see Jane…" Elizabeth's voice softened, and her expression shifted from surprise to understanding. "Oh, my! She has always spoken so well of you…"

Darcy's subtle shift in expression was all the confirmation Elizabeth needed. "She likes you!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her voice filled with astonishment. "Oh, my! Why did she not say anything to me? Oh, because she saw your interest in me. Oh, dear, Jane! Dear selfless Jane! And she wrote to you!" Elizabeth was coming to understand the situation. "Am I right? Have you come to see my sister?"

Mr Darcy reluctantly nodded. This was different from how he had planned his big conversation with Miss Elizabeth. He should have known she would figure it out. "You're right, Miss Elizabeth. You're very perceptive. I am found out. I had intended to speak with you at some point, but…well, it seems the situation has revealed itself," Darcy admitted, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "It just happened. Would it trouble you, me pursuing her?"

Elizabeth paused, considering his words. "Why, Mr Darcy, you have surprised me! Do you really like her?"

"Yes," Darcy answered without hesitation. "Very much. What I have come to know of her has only deepened my regard. I never knew she was all that…what I saw in London. I could not get her out of my head."

"You quickly forgot me, Mr Darcy."

Thankfully, Darcy realised it was not an accusation. She was teasing him. "That's not possible, Miss Elizabeth. You were a lovely infatuation; I know that now, a bitter-sweet memory, but we both know we're not for each other. You've not pined after me, have you?"

Elizabeth shook her head, her smile widening.

"No, I did not think so," Darcy continued, his tone softening. "That was quite a blow to my ego, but your rebuke and meeting her in London started a long journey of self-reflection for me. I realised I did not know what I wanted in a woman… I believe your sister and I could build something real. Yes, that's why I am here."

There was a pause, but then Elizabeth looked him in the eye and said, "In that case, Mr Darcy, welcome to Longbourn." She smiled. "I love my sister. She deserves a good man. I understand now that you are one. You're just terrible with people." She laughed lightly. "If you're what she wants, I shall not stand in your way."

At that response, Mr Darcy let out a breath he did not know he was holding. "Just like that?"

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. "Did you expect a fight?"

"To be honest, I do not know what I expected. The situation is somewhat peculiar, I admit."

"I'd say!" Elizabeth smiled at him, gesturing toward one of the corridors. "Mr Darcy, why do you not go into the garden? I shall send Jane after you and check on my mother."

As she turned to give the shortbreads to her father, Elizabeth considered what Mr Darcy's visit could mean.

He was not there for her, and she felt…relieved by that.

She knew that if he had decided to offer for her again, she would have had to accept him as he proved to be a decent man. Her mother would not have tolerated a different response in any case. His appearance in their parlour earlier had caught her off guard, and she did not know how she would have felt had he come for her. But now that she had talked to him, she understood her own feelings.

He had ruined any possibility of her liking him at the beginning of their acquaintance, and her dislike became so natural to her. Maybe she was protecting herself; she never examined it closely, and now it was a moot point. She did not understand or appreciate the intense feelings he had confessed to her, and now she did not believe she deserved his attentions. Her sister, however… Jane, dear sister! I have been genuinely blind… you liked him… Does she know that Mr Darcy is now interested in her?

***

Jane sat before the mirror, scrutinising her reflection with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She gently pinched her cheeks, trying to bring a little more colour to her complexion. Her heart raced as she recalled the moment in the hall – how close Mr Darcy had come to wiping the flour from her face. The thought made her cheeks flush even deeper, and she caught herself smiling at the memory.

She leaned closer to the mirror, her fingers grazing the spot where his hand had almost brushed her cheek, as though the near touch had left an invisible mark. The idea of his fingers brushing against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, leaving her breathless. Jane closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stay composed. Her emotions were swirling, and she knew she had to calm down before seeing him again.

After a deep breath, Jane focused on her hair, inspecting the maid's work with a critical eye. Satisfied with the neatness of the curls, she smoothed down a stray lock and gave herself one last, steadying glance. Her heart still fluttered, but she forced a serene expression onto her face.

With a final look in the mirror, Jane straightened her posture and left her room, ready to face Mr Darcy once more, though her thoughts were far from settled.

***

In the garden, Darcy replayed his unexpected encounter with Miss Bennet, the memory vivid and electrifying. The moment he saw her standing in the hall, apron askew and a smudge of flour on her face, it felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. She was exactly as he remembered, yet somehow more captivating. A wave of realisation hit him – he had missed her. It seemed absurd, but the sight of this woman, dressed for her domestic duties, stirred something deep within him, something he felt with an intensity that surprised him.

It was not just an attraction; it was an all-consuming awareness that pulsed through his entire body, a sensation wholly different from anything he had experienced with her sister. The memory of how close he had come to touching her face made him shake his head in disbelief. How could he have been so reckless? The impulse had been so unbidden, so undeniable, that when he abruptly stopped himself, it left him keenly aware of the loss of contact.

As he recalled the moment, he could not ignore how she had responded to him. Before Miss Elizabeth's interruption, there had been a palpable tension between them – a sweet, charged tension that lingered in the air like a promise. It was not just his imagination; it was real. Darcy found himself clinging to that moment, convinced it was a good omen of what might lie ahead.

He sensed her presence before he saw her. Slowly turning, he found Miss Bennet standing a short distance away, her hair now elegantly swept up. Though he had liked it down, this style revealed the delicate curve of her neck, drawing his gaze. Get a grip, man.

"Miss Bennet, you look very pleasant," Mr Darcy said, his voice carrying a new boldness. "This colour especially suits you."

Darcy took in her quiet beauty, unexpectedly captivated. Her serene yet steadfast nature was precisely the balm he sought, a quality he had overlooked in his youthful pursuit of vivacity. She was not the kind of woman who commanded a room with grandeur or wit, but there was a gentle gravity to her – a steady resilience he found himself increasingly drawn to. Where once he would have thought such calmness unremarkable, he now saw it as a quiet strength, one that steadied his own mind as well as his heart.

The effect was immediate – her cheeks flushed a deep red.

He chuckled inwardly at her reaction.

"Mr Darcy, you seem…quite altered," she commented, clearly perplexed. "You've done it twice now. I daresay that such profusions of compliment could induce Miss Bingley to swoon."

Mr Darcy could not help but laugh at that. She had a sense of humour – how delightful.

"The problem, Miss Bennet, is that I would never say anything remotely similar to Miss Bingley. I thought it, so I said it."

"This is most unexpected," she remarked as she gestured at him playfully.

"I am a new man, Miss Bennet," he replied, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

"Well, if you keep up this new habit with my mother, you'll win her over in no time," she quipped, laughing as she saw his grin falter.

"Touché, Miss Bennet. Lead the way if you must… And by the way, you have a wonderful laugh," he added, to have the last word.

***

Elizabeth observed the scene from her perch on the window seat in the parlour, her eyes fixed on the garden. Though she could not hear their conversation, it was clear that Mr Darcy was more at ease with her sister than she had ever seen him. He actually laughed! A pang stirred within her as her thoughts drifted back to her own journey with him – a journey marked by her insistence on seeing him as an adversary. Pride had demanded that she resist him, that she find fault in him, and she had complied without question. And, because of it, when the moment arose, she had not seen him as a suitor at all, let alone a worthy one. It did not matter whether her misgivings were founded falsely or not.

Watching Jane and Darcy now, she saw something she had refused to see before. In him, she had sought a challenge rather than a companion, an opponent rather than a partner. But for Jane, there would be no struggle – only the quiet steadfastness that suited them both.

The sight was both surprising and revealing. Sweet, self-sacrificing Jane, always putting others first, had never seen Darcy as Elizabeth had nor held him to those impossible standards. Likely encouraged by Miss Darcy's letter, Jane had gently urged her to reconsider him, unaware that his visit might be for her own sake.

As Elizabeth continued to watch, she turned her thoughts inward, examining her feelings about the two of them together. Mr Darcy was different with Jane – playful, almost light-hearted. It was such a stark contrast to her own strained and reluctant interactions with him. She now understood the intense stare he had often directed at her; it was the gaze of a man struggling with feelings that contradicted his own sense of propriety. He had liked her, yes, but against his better judgment, as he had confessed so bluntly at Hunsford. Yet she felt no pang now that his affections were directed elsewhere. Instead, she felt a quiet, undeniable relief, for her heart had never truly responded to his. Maybe it would have been too soon anyway to teach her heart to accept his approach.

She glanced back at Jane and Darcy in the garden, her mind drawing the image of Mr Bingley in Darcy's place. The comparison, however, did not hold. Jane's preference for Darcy began to make sense: he was everything Jane needed – steady, courageous, intelligent, and deeply committed to his responsibilities. Jane could rely on him, and he could offer her a life far removed from the constraints of Longbourn. How different this vision was from her own youthful ideals! But perhaps such ideals were just that – youthful and somewhat unrealistic. Darcy's strength and loyalty, which she had once seen as stiffness, were precisely the qualities Jane would need. Elizabeth found herself warming to the idea, recognising that her sister could indeed find happiness with Darcy. For her gentle sister, it was not exuberance or wit that would provide happiness, but this quiet steadfastness, a shared commitment, a respect born out of knowing one another deeply. Darcy's admiration for Jane was not a passing whim; it was built on genuine esteem and understanding, qualities she now saw as more precious than charm.

She considered her own past judgments of Darcy. Had she, too, been clinging to a romantic vision that, in the end, had little substance? Darcy had been her ideal opponent – a man to spar with, challenge, and argue against. But was he really the partner she needed? Perhaps she, too, had mistaken attraction for compatibility. Looking back, she realised that her pride had led her to resist him, and only now, watching him with Jane, did she see that his constancy, his sense of duty and honour, were qualities more suited to lasting happiness than any heady passion.

Yes, Elizabeth mused; Jane and Mr Darcy might just suit each other perfectly after all. In a way, she was glad for them both – perhaps her sister's marriage to Darcy would also open new opportunities for herself. Goodness knows Jane was right: they had few prospects in the neighbourhood. If Darcy could offer Jane a life of security and genuine respect, then perhaps that was indeed something to be celebrated.

***

The tea service proceeded pleasantly, with an assortment of cakes, including Jane's expertly baked shortbread.

"How have you been spending your time since we last met?" Darcy ventured, much less talkative amid the Bennet ladies.

"Mostly quietly," Jane responded with her usual calm demeanour. Nothing much happens here."

"The militia's leaving." Kitty softly offered, her voice tinged with disappointment.

"Oh, that's indeed very sad," Mrs Bennet lamented, her usual cheerfulness momentarily subdued.

"Are they?" Darcy inquired, curious.

"They're moving their camp to Brighton for the summer," Jane explained.

"And I've been invited by Mrs Forster to join them!" Lydia chimed in, her tone triumphant.

Jane immediately stiffened.

"This is so unfair. I am older; I should be the one to go," Kitty grumbled, though her complaint lacked its usual vigour. It was clear she had already lost that battle.

Darcy observed the dynamics with growing unease. Miss Lydia, it seemed, was accustomed to getting her way. He noted the silent exchange between Elizabeth and Jane, sensing their shared concern. He made a mental note to inquire about it later. "Mrs Bennet, have you given your permission for Miss Lydia to go?

"Of course, and Mr Bennet has already agreed," Mrs Bennet replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Madam, I beg your pardon." He set his cup down with deliberate precision. "Have you ever been to Brighton?"

"Oh, Mr Darcy, if only my husband would let us go. Unfortunately, he does not like to travel." Mrs Bennet sighed, her longing apparent.

"I ask, madam, and forgive me; it is none of my business," Darcy continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "but Brighton is not a safe place for a young lady on her own."

"Oh, she'll be with the Forsters," Mrs Bennet said lightly, brushing aside his concern.

"Yes, I shall be with them," Lydia added, though a flicker of doubt crossed her face.

"I meant," Darcy clarified, his eyes steady on Mrs Bennet, "without her family to protect her."

"Do not you worry, Mr Darcy. The colonel will take good care of her. Why should she miss all the fun just because her father would not leave his study?" Mrs Bennet replied with a forced smile.

"I see," Darcy murmured, though his expression remained grave. "Well, I think I've long overstayed my welcome. Thank you for the tea. As I mentioned earlier, my sister is here with me. She is rather shy. Before we visit Longbourn together, would it be possible for your daughters to visit her?"

"Certainly, Mr Darcy." Mrs Bennet replied, her spirits lifting. "I shall make sure they visit her. Is tomorrow acceptable?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Ladies," Darcy said with a bow, his gaze briefly lingering on Jane. "It was a pleasure to see you all again. Miss Bennet, would you see me out? Georgiana sent a message I would like to tell you about."

"Of course. Mama, I shall see Mr Darcy out," Jane responded, rising gracefully.

"Go, my girl, go." Mrs Bennet urged, her excitement barely contained.

At the entrance, Darcy collected his gloves and stick, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I hope I did not overstep by asking if you could visit Georgiana. She's looking forward to seeing you again."

Jane smiled softly, her voice warm. "No, not at all. I am looking forward to seeing her as well. Please give her my regards. We will be there at about three o'clock."

"Thank you," Darcy replied, his tone sincere. "I am looking forward to it."

Jane swallowed nervously, a hint of laughter escaping her lips. "I confess, it is still difficult to believe you have taken up Netherfield. It feels…most peculiar."

Darcy offered a modest shrug, his gaze steady on her.

"You surprised me today," Jane confessed, her eyes searching his.

"You knew I would come," Darcy countered gently.

"No, I did not." Jane shook her head, her voice softer now. "You could have decided otherwise. But it is not just that. I am talking about you. You are different."

A faint smile played on Darcy's lips. "You are not the first to say that. I do feel different. I have had a lot to reflect on, Miss Bennet. Since we parted, I have been quite busy."

"Yes, I saw mention of it in the papers," Jane admitted, her tone hesitant.

"The papers?" Darcy echoed, curious.

"Yes, it reported that – that you were seen dancing…" Jane trailed off, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Darcy's brows lifted in amusement. "Is it not amusing? It seems the most pressing news of the day is merely that I 'dared' to dance and my choice of dancing partners." He looked at her, tilting his head, "I did not think you would read such nonsense."

Jane looked down and shrugged.

"It seems everyone indulges, after all. One must find some amusement in such things on occasion. My sister told me about this one."

"Is that so?" Darcy's smile broadened, one eyebrow arching in mild surprise. "And how did you feel about this news, Miss Bennet?"

"It is none of my concern," Jane replied, turning her gaze away, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

"Yet, you mentioned it," Darcy observed, his tone gently probing.

Jane hesitated before finally admitting, "Well, I did not care for it."

A glimmer of satisfaction passed through Darcy's eyes as he stepped closer. "Thank you. It was necessary, but not one I relished. I shall explain."

"Why do you thank me?" Jane wondered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Darcy took her hand, his touch light but deliberate, and pressed a reverent kiss to her knuckles, lingering a moment longer than propriety allowed. He answered as he straightened, "Because it shows that you care."

Chapter 15

Two sisters

Jane remained standing in front of the house long after Mr Darcy's carriage had disappeared from view, her gaze fixed on the empty road. She absently touched the hand he had kissed as if still feeling the warmth of his lips. A deep, unexpected breath filled her lungs, a rush of emotion she had yet to understand. She needed a moment to herself, away from curious eyes. A solitary walk seemed the only means to collect her thoughts. Each step along the familiar path felt heavier with unspoken questions – questions she was too afraid to answer just yet.

Why had it mattered so deeply to him that she cared? The question lingered, heavy with meaning she was not ready to face.

Jane shook her head as if to clear away the thought, unwilling to dwell on possibilities that could unravel her carefully tended sense of composure. But even as she walked, her mind returned to that moment, replaying it in fragments – the warmth of his touch on her hand, the earnest look in his eyes, and the sincerity in his voice.

***

After Jane returned from her stroll, she and Elizabeth kept to themselves separately; they avoided conversation for the rest of the day. Both had things to think about. They survived dinner. The rest of the family was too busy discussing this and that to notice that the two elder daughters were unusually quiet. The only time Jane spoke was when she heard her mother saying how nice it was from Mr Darcy that he brought chocolate for the family. In that small, unexpected gift, Jane felt a whisper of something more – a reminder of his attentiveness, even here at Longbourn, where every act carried meaning. She glanced down at her hand, half-hoping to find some mark of his touch there, but of course, it was only her imagination. "That is indeed very nice of him. For the family? And where is it?"

Her mother just gaped. She realised she had let Lydia take it and then forgot about it. "Lydia?"

"Well, nobody wanted it, so I took the box."

"I would have been interested if you had let me look at it," complained Kitty.

Mr Bennet looked at his youngest daughter with tired disgust. "Child, you took a whole box of chocolate meant for the family and kept it for yourself? Have you no sense of decency?"

Lydia did not know where to look.

"What sort of a sister are you, Lydia? How could you imagine that was the proper thing to do? Do not we all share everything with you?" Elizabeth was aghast.

"Bring the box here, Lydia. I am extremely disappointed in you. You are not only one of the silliest girls in all of England but the most selfish. Go, now," her father grimly spoke.

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other. They knew that that was the extent of his discipline; Lydia would not be punished and would never learn. Since their talk with their father about Lydia's trip to Brighton, the two eldest looked at their father with new and disappointed eyes.

***

Before going to bed, Lizzy knocked on Jane's door. Jane let her in. She was ready to go to bed, already in her nightgown. She was plaiting her hair for the night. They looked at each other, and both nodded. Without a word, Lizzy stepped in and got comfortable on Jane's four-poster bed.

Elizabeth glanced around Jane's room, feeling a familiar comfort wash over her. Jane's room always had a welcoming warmth, a unique blend of light and fragrance that came from the herbs Jane kept. The room was more elegant than her own, a reflection of their parents' initial enthusiasm for their firstborn. Everything here, from the delicate lace curtains to the finely carved furniture, spoke of care and attention.

Elizabeth's room, by contrast, bore the marks of a more modest investment. Her furniture was simpler, the decor less refined, as if the excitement of furnishing had dwindled by the time she came along. Yet, she had never minded. She had made her space her own, charming in its simplicity. Kitty's watercolours brightened the walls, each brushstroke adding a touch of whimsy. Her collection of polished stones sparkled in the sunlight on the windowsill, and the handmade bedspread the sister had made together the previous winter brought warmth and colour to the room.

Now, in Jane's room, she was comforted by her sister's presence. Coming together before turning in was almost a ritual for them. However, today was strange. They had not talked about Mr Darcy's visit. It was the elephant in the room. Jane did not know what to say.

Elizabeth began with a knowing smile, "So, Mr Darcy has come."

Jane hesitated before responding, "Yes, he surprised me."

"I would have thought you knew he was coming. When you asked me about how I would react…"

Jane shook her head slightly. "No, I did not know. Well, I wasn't sure. He asked in Georgiana's letter if he would be welcome, but I did not know if he would take my advice." She absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair between her fingers.

"You advised him to come?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

Jane gave a slight shrug. "I thought it could do some good."

Elizabeth could not help but tease, "You and your famous positive outlook on life?"

"What is amiss in that? If we dwell on negativity, it will surely find us," Jane countered with a gentle smile.

"Very wise, dear sister." Elizabeth giggled before her tone turned serious. "You were trying to get me to see him in a different light, weren't you? To consider giving him a second chance?"

Jane looked up, startled by the accuracy of the observation. "Well, yes. I did hope for that. I thought time apart might cool tempers and offer a fresh perspective."

Elizabeth's expression softened. "But, Jane…he did not come for me."

Jane's eyes grew wide. "What? How can you be sure?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "We spoke after you left to change."

Jane's voice was barely above a whisper. "You spoke? What did he impart?"

"Yes. I was my usual impertinent self and confronted him about why he was here."

"Oh, no, Lizzy!" Jane gasped. "You did not." She tittered.

"But I did." Elizabeth straightened; she was proud of herself.

"What did he have to say? Did he say anything?"

Elizabeth's lips curled into a playful grin. "Jane, he likes you. He was clear about his admiration for your character, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes."

"Oh." Jane's hand flew to her chest, her breath catching. "He said that?"

"Aye," Elizabeth confirmed, watching her sister's reaction with amusement. 'He said that he liked every glimpse of your character."

"What is going on? I must be dreaming… He said he came to see me," Jane said, folding her legs to her chest, overwhelmed.

"Jane," Elizabeth reached for her sister, "why did you never tell me? You have always liked him, have you not?"

Jane looked down at her lap, biting her lip. "It did not seem important before. You all expected Mr Bingley for me, and you were so set against Mr Darcy. What good would it have done to admit I admired him?"

Elizabeth gave her sister a reassuring smile. "It is all right, Jane. I've realised what I should have seen all along. You admire him. And honestly, I can't blame you.' She chuckled. 'I felt like an intruder when I saw you and him in the hall today. Though it took me some time, I believe I now understand: you hold him in high regard… I still cannot believe that you wrote to him."

"I cannot believe it! But I did." She buried her face in her knees.

"It looks like your daring act of writing to him and what he saw of you that day made him look at you differently." Elizabeth gazed at her sister expectantly.

Jane shook her head in disbelief. "This is all so strange. Yes, I have always liked him. He is a man whom I can admire. As I observed and learnt about him, I became aware of his many qualities. They almost shouted at me in contrast to Mr Bingley…' She put her head on her knees. 'How ironic that he did not pay any attention to me. The one man I found interesting, and he did not even look my way twice. It was very disconcerting. I did tell myself that it must have been because his friend monopolised me. Then I saw him pay attention to you. He thought it was subtle, but not to me. I did try to tell you." She smoothed the bedspread with her hand. "I am not in love with him, Lizzy; how could I be? Yet, I am very attracted to him, I admit." She looked at her sister, "Why are you not upset?"

"Upset? Why would I be, Jane? I do not love him. Not long ago, I hated him. His interests are now in a different direction; I cannot blame him. It would be pointless to regret him." She smiled at her worried sister. "On the other hand, if you want him, I promise to be nice to him," she grinned. "He needs a good woman, and you are that… Now that I think of it, you have much in common. I did not see his good qualities when you did, Jane. He is all yours. I give you permission to love him."

"I do not know what to say."

"You do not need to say anything," she leaned in to hug her sister. "Come to think of it, you will be the most handsome couple. Just imagine, Jane. Wherever you go, people will think they saw the Sun," she laughed.

That made Jane chuckle as well. She sobered. "Nothing is settled, Lizzy. I shall stand aside if you want to change your mind. Would you not want him now that you know much more about him? You can see he can be civil."

"Maybe, if things had been different, I could have liked him. But things must happen for a reason. You were the one to realise what lies beneath his taciturn mask. I simply thought that was him. You tried to tell me; I did not listen. I did not want to listen." She was in thought for a while, "I was too hurt. I built a fortress of pride around myself, certain that my judgment was unassailable. Yet, in truth, I knew so little of him. His faults seemed a convenient place to anchor my anger. I believe I did not realise how much his words wounded me. I had no idea I was vain! That is a lesson. Then, I was too stubborn. I always have to know better, do I not? Oh, Jane, I have just said it out loud! I must be better than that. Oh, that's another lesson." She ducked under the blanket in a childlike manner, and she laughed.

When she brought herself back up, she said: "After I learnt the truth – Mr Wickham had been the villain all along, and Mr Darcy the wronged party – it utterly confounded me. I should have seen it! I should have seen through Wickham. If anything, that is what I regret. I let that scoundrel walk over me. He used me, Jane! I am glad we made him pay… I should have seen how inappropriate his sharing such personal information was… Oh, no! Again, you tried to warn me, but I did not listen… Jane, I welcomed the criminating information, too eager to believe the worst of him. I wanted to think the worst of Mr Darcy. I do not deserve your Mr Darcy… I never knew I could hold such a grudge! I let it overwhelm me, and I even behaved like that despicable man, Jane. I spread my disapprobation about him with pleasure. I was thinking of this today. This whole thing with Mr Darcy has been a series of hard lessons for me, but I am glad to learn them. It will make me more discerning in the future." She lay down with a thud. She was exhausted.

"No, Jane, I do not deserve your Mr Darcy. I need to reconcile with these lessons. I want to learn from these. I also need to think about what I truly want from a husband. I think I have never really thought about that, realistically. Mr Darcy proposed to me too hastily. He said afterwards, he realised he did not know what he needed in a woman. It is true for me as well. All I had was this vague romantic dream… I do not even know what love looks like… I have had two proposals, and I do not know what, if any, will come my way again."

"Oh, of course, they will. What you have just said – I am proud of you, Lizzy. I sit here awed. It sounded very mature. It takes a strong character to admit flaws… Elizabeth, please think this through. As I said, I shall step away if that is what you want. I do not even know what Mr Darcy wants from me."

"Oh, Jane, you of little faith! Mr Darcy and I have had our chance. It was not the right thing for either of us. He did not even know I hated him, and I had no idea he had tender feelings for me, which is not to belittle his feelings, but they were not based on his knowing me, more like something attracted him. I believe, after our conversation in London, he moved on anyway. And for that, I am relieved. It has taken some weight from my heart to see that his affections have found a better match in you. I believe he seeks a new beginning, a chance to forge a connection that truly suits him," she winked at Jane.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. See where this thing with Mr Darcy will take you. You both admire each other – that is clear. I have never seen him as relaxed as he is in your company. I observed it in London and here at Longbourn. I mean, I saw him laugh!"

"He had been complimenting me."

"Really? What did he say?"

"Oh, Lizzy, I was beet red! When he saw me in the hall, in my dirty working dress, I even had flour on my cheek… he looked up and down at me and told me I looked… fetching." She hid behind her hands, but she was smiling.

"He said that? Oh, my, that is very forward of him, Jane. For Mr Darcy to utter such a sentiment – he must be quite overcome." She laughed, "Good for him! Oh, sweet Jane… All right. I shall let you sleep. I think I would welcome him as a brother. As a devoted brother to Miss Darcy, he could adopt us, too." Elizabeth chuckled, reaching out to clasp Jane's hand, a silent promise passing between them. "Jane, before I forget, I think we should tell Mr Darcy about Mr Whickham."

"Oh, certainly. We could do that tomorrow," she said sleepily, "We did well there, did we not?" Jane giggled.

"Yes, we did," Elizabeth said with a smile.

After Elizabeth left, Jane reached under her pillow and pulled out the letter she had kept hidden there. As she read it for the hundredth time, the words seemed to carry new weight, each line awakening a quiet hope within her heart for all that might yet come to pass.

***

The morning sunlight streamed into the Bennet drawing room, casting a warm glow over Jane as she sat near the window, stitching the hem of a pale yellow gown she intended to wear to Netherfield. She could not sleep properly and was the first to go downstairs. Her serene demeanour belied the flurry of thoughts swirling within her, though the hurried entrance of Mrs Bennet soon disrupted her peace.

"Jane, my dearest!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed, her voice a mixture of glee and urgency. "I must speak with you before the others join us. Sit up straight, child; this is important!"

Jane, startled, put her stitching aside. "What is it, Mama? Is something amiss?"

"Amiss? Quite the opposite, my love!" Mrs Bennet sank into the chair beside her, clutching a handkerchief with an air of triumph. "It is about Mr Darcy."

Jane's cheeks warmed, but she managed to maintain her composure. "Mr Darcy? What about him?"

"Why, everything!" Mrs Bennet declared, her voice rising with excitement. "Think, Jane – he hosted our family at the theatre in London. A man of his standing extending such an invitation! And now, he has come all the way to Hertfordshire. The very first thing he does is call on us! And then, there is Miss Darcy's letter. She wrote to you, did she not?"

"Yes, she did," Jane replied quietly, picking up her stitching to give her hands something to do. "She invited us to visit her at Netherfield. She thought it might please her brother."

Mrs Bennet leaned forward, her eyes alight. "There! Do you not see it? Mr Darcy thinks highly of you, Jane. There must be some deeper meaning to all this. A gentleman like him does not pay such attention without reason."

"Mama," Jane said gently, "I think he was simply being kind. He is a thoughtful man."

"Thoughtful, yes, but that is not all." Mrs Bennet tilted her head knowingly. "Think back to the autumn, Jane. He was barely sociable then, hardly saying a word to anyone at that assembly – let alone dancing. And now look at him! Bringing gifts, extending invitations, coming to Hertfordshire! A man does not change his ways so drastically without cause."

Jane hesitated, her needle faltering. "Perhaps he has grown more accustomed to our society. After all, it can take time for some to warm to new acquaintances."

"Nonsense, child!" Mrs Bennet waved her handkerchief in the air. "A man like Mr Darcy does not trouble himself to 'warm' to anyone unless he has a reason. And you, my dear, are that reason."

Jane's cheeks flushed deeper as she tried to focus on her stitching. "Mama, you must not make assumptions. Mr Darcy is a man of duty. He may feel it necessary to extend such courtesies as a result of his friendship with Mr Bingley or his sister's wishes. They wanted to escape the season for some time, that is all."

Mrs Bennet gave her an exasperated look. "Jane, you are too modest for your own good! A gentleman with ten thousand a year does not go to such lengths for mere duty. When he came yesterday and did not see you, he asked about you. No, I see it plainly – he admires you. Maybe, before, Mr Bingley was in his way. Oh, if I had known!"

Jane glanced up, startled. "Admire me? Whatever makes you think so?"

"Everything, my love!" Mrs Bennet declared, her enthusiasm undiminished. "The way he looked at you yesterday, the care he took to bring chocolate for the family – no man thinks of such gestures without particular regard. And now, this invitation to Netherfield? Mark my words, Jane, he means to pursue you."

Jane looked down at her hands, her thoughts racing. "Mr Darcy has always been considerate, but I think it is too soon to draw conclusions, Mama."

Mrs Bennet sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Oh, Jane, you are so cautious! That is why he likes you, mark my words. Gentlemen like Mr Darcy appreciate grace and gentleness, not boldness or frivolity."

Jane offered a faint smile. "Perhaps," she said quietly. "But it is best not to speculate too much. We shall know his intentions in time."

Mrs Bennet leaned back with a contented smile, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Well, you are right about one thing, Jane – we must tread carefully. A connection like this does not come along every day, and we cannot afford to squander it."

"Mama, I ask you fervently not to speak about this to your friends. Remember what your speculations resulted last time." She felt almost guilty for reminding her mother, but it was true. She had told everyone who would listen about her hopes as if they were reality.

Mrs Bennet looked at Jane, taken aback.

Jane added. "I do not think Mr Darcy would appreciate being fodder for gossip whether he has intentions toward me or not."

"Oh, you may be right, Jane!"

"Also, you have not even asked me if I would favour any intention from him."

"Oh, dear, you cannot possibly have anything against him. So tall and so handsome!"

"And rich." Jane teased.

"Oh, Jane, just imagine. All right. You are a clever girl. Be nice to him when you are visiting. That is all I ask."

As Mrs Bennet swept from the room, Jane let out a breath she had not realised she was holding. Her mother's words echoed in her mind, mingling with her own tangled thoughts. Could it be true? Could Mr Darcy's actions signify something deeper?

She shook her head, returning to her stitching with a renewed determination. Whatever the truth might be, she would not let herself hope too soon. Better to remain steady, to keep her heart protected until certainty revealed itself.

Chapter 16

The Netherfield Visit And "Us"

After her morning conversation with Jane, Mrs Bennet seemed unusually composed as she prepared for the upcoming visit to Netherfield. Lydia's inevitable wailing at being excluded was met with an uncharacteristically firm response. Mrs Bennet reasoned that five daughters might overwhelm a shy girl of sixteen, and her focus remained steadfast on presenting her eldest daughters, particularly Jane, in the best possible light.

To everyone's astonishment, she even sent along a jar of strawberry jam from last year's harvest – one of her finest batches. Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a knowing look, the earlier conversation with her mother fresh in Jane's mind. Mrs Bennet's refusal to indulge Lydia's protests, punctuated by a sharp look of reproach, silenced the younger girls and left the entire family momentarily astonished. Her composure had an almost disconcerting effect on the younger girls, who were unaccustomed to seeing her so resolute. Even Lydia, who usually relied on tears and tantrums to get her way, found herself silenced by her mother's unyielding gaze.

This rare display of restraint and thoughtfulness from Mrs Bennet, born out of her growing certainty regarding Mr Darcy's intentions, set the tone for the visit. As it turned out, the gift was very well received.

***

The Darcys had settled into Netherfield with ease, though only a few rooms were opened, as the household consisted of just the three of them. The south parlour was chosen for daytime use, the music room for Georgiana's practice, the library where Darcy could attend to business, the billiard room for his relaxation, and the small dining room for their meals.

Despite the limited number of residents, their arrival was a well-coordinated affair. Three carriages had transported them, and two additional horses for Darcy and Georgiana to ride. The first coach carried trunks, Darcy's cook and a footman. The second brought Darcy's valet, Georgiana's and Mrs Annesley's maids, and two additional maids to supplement the minimal staff already at Netherfield. These trips were a welcome change for Darcy's servants, who sometimes travelled with him.

Darcy had also instructed the housekeeper, Mrs Watson, the housekeeper, to hire two stable boys and a cook's assistant from the village, ensuring the local families benefited from their stay, too. The third carriage carried the Darcys themselves, along with Mrs Annesley. Their arrival had breathed new life into the grand estate, though it was managed with a quiet efficiency that reflected Darcy's preference for order.

He approached travel arrangements with meticulous care, believing it was a gentleman's duty to ensure every detail was managed for a smooth journey. To Darcy, such considerations were not mere conveniences; they were reflections of his principles – his belief that excellence in the smallest matters revealed the character of a man. He took pride in this, particularly enjoying the privilege of travelling in luxury. His carriages were always top-of-the-line, equipped with the best springs for comfort, not just for himself but his entire staff. Constantly seeking the latest in coach design, Darcy often sold his older models when he found superior ones.

His reputation in the equestrian community was well-established, as he hired only the best riders and trainers, offering them premium wages if they met his exacting standards. Darcy's passion for horses was evident in his careful study of bloodlines and diligent, stable management.

***

The Bennet ladies' visit was proceeding wonderfully. Mary, usually reserved, displayed a surprising liveliness as she talked to Miss Darcy. The elder sisters let them converse, and they discovered that they shared a love of music. Soon, they went to the music room to check Miss Darcy's selection of music.

Jane asked a footman to ask Mr Darcy to join them. After the greetings, he had made himself scarce to give the ladies time to get properly acquainted. Mr Darcy was ready to rejoin them when the summon came. He smiled.

When Darcy entered the room, his presence filled the space effortlessly. "Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," he greeted them, his gaze pausing on Jane as though she were a familiar anchor in the room. "Where is Georgiana and Miss Mary?"

"They went to the music room," Jane replied. That did not need further explanation.

"I see," Darcy said with a small, almost boyish grin. "And so I am summoned?" His expression held a teasing warmth, his eyes twinkling with an amusement Jane was beginning to recognise.

"Not summoned but invited." Jane corrected, her composure slipping just enough to reveal a blush.

"Well, thank you for the invitation…to my own parlour, in my own house," Darcy teased lightly. The playful edge in his tone felt wholly unexpected, eliciting a shared laugh from both sisters.

"Well, Mr Darcy, please allow us to invite you to your own parlour to chat with us." Jane now found her voice again and matched his humour with her own quiet grace.

Darcy inclined his head in mock gravity. "And how may I serve you, ladies? Shall I provide more tea, or would you prefer I sit quietly and behave myself?"

Jane smiled, reaching for the teapot. "We would not dream of troubling you, Mr Darcy. But since you ask, would you care for a cup?"

"Indeed, I would. Thank you, Miss Bennet." And he watched as she deftly poured the tea into the fine cup and saucer. She added two teaspoons of sugar, precisely what his sweet tooth craved. He had nearly expressed his preference for sugar, yet she had known just what he desired, how he could not figure it out.

"How remarkable," he said softly, taking the cup she offered.

"Pardon?" Jane asked, looking up at him.

"That you knew precisely how I take my tea," Darcy said, his voice thoughtful. "You seem to know me better than I might have expected."

Jane hesitated, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "Perhaps I have been paying attention," she said, her words barely above a whisper.

Darcy's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than was strictly proper. "I see," he said softly, his voice carrying an intimacy that sent a warmth rushing through her.

Elizabeth, watching the exchange, hid a knowing smile. Their mother's tutelage in observing the preferences of guests was paying dividends in ways no one had foreseen. She missed the significance of their exchange, however.

"Thank you, Miss Bennet," Darcy said, his tone deeper now as if he were conveying more than gratitude for the tea. "So, what would you like to chat about?"

"Yes, well, we would like to inform you of something that happened…"

Elizabeth, too excited to hold back, leaned forward. "With Mr Wickham. Mr Darcy, it concerns Mr Wickham."

"Oh?" He lost his humour, and his face immediately darkened. "Wickham? Nothing amiss, I hope."

Elizabeth took over. She was too excited and wanted to share what they had done with Mr Darcy. "Jane is a genius!" she exclaimed with a big smile; she almost lost her seat.

"Is that so?" Darcy looked from one woman to the other with much interest.

"Oh, yes, I never knew my innocent Jane had it in her; she told a falsehood, not once but several times."

"Lizzy! You will make Mr Darcy think the worst of me!"

"I think we both know that would be impossible, but here is what happened." Elizabeth, relishing the opportunity to share their recent triumph, recounted the tale with gusto, praising Jane's ingenuity in leading the shopkeepers to submit their debt lists to Colonel Forster. "After we returned to Hertfordshire, we talked about him. We were both upset with what we had learnt about him. We discussed what, if anything, we should do with that knowledge. Then we heard that the militia was leaving. We thought there was not much point. I was extremely disappointed. I thought he deserved, at least, a set down."

"Oh, Lizzy, I thought the same! We should not have let the topic drop. It was eating at me." Jane was aghast.

Elizabeth turned back to Mr Darcy, "A few days later, we were walking to Meryton, and we saw him with some fellows coming out of the inn in a rather happy mood in the middle of the day. Did we not, Jane? Now, Jane became adamant that we should do something. Here comes her genius. She told me to go along with whatever she was going to say. We went into one of the shops, and Jane cleverly directed the conversation toward the militiamen and their spending. Then, she asked the shopkeeper if he had sent his list of debts of the men to Colonel Forster. Jane's expression was so convincingly innocent that I almost doubted my own memory. The shopkeeper, thoroughly charmed, seemed eager to comply before she even finished her sentence."

Darcy listened intently, his expression shifting from surprise to admiration as the story unfolded. "No, that is…very clever." Mr Darcy's eyes narrowed as he attempted to decipher the significance of the act.

"Very clever indeed. She said that she heard others doing it." Elizabeth agreed. "It was a white lie, of course."

"Oh, I see."

Elizabeth saw that Mr Darcy, in fact, did not see. She laughed and turned to Jane. "He does not see."

"Care to explain then?"

"We made them think that everyone else was doing it. I mean sending their debt lists to the colonel," Elizabeth explained.

"We implied that if we were the shopkeepers, we would certainly want to settle accounts before the men departed, lest we be left unpaid. Then, we repeated the process in several other establishments," Jane finished the account smiling.

"I thought Mr Wickham would shop but try not to pay. So, I thought we could get him where it hurts, turn the shopkeepers against him," Jane explained.

"Brilliant!" He openly admired Jane. "You are a genius. So, what happened?"

Darcy's tone was no longer the reserved politeness of a host. His admiration for Jane's quick wit and determination shone through, and for a brief moment, she felt the full weight of his regard.

"Mr Phillips, our uncle, made it clear to the Colonel that if the militia were to leave debts behind, they would not be welcome here again. He even insinuated that the town would complain to the authorities. He told our father about this at one of our dinners. The colonel then, as much as we know, ordered the debts to be paid. We have not seen Wickham since then. The news is that Wickham had a large debt, and the colonel paid it for him from the treasury of the military. Now, he cannot leave the barracks and only gets a quarter of his pay for quite some time."

"I am speechless, ladies!" Mr Darcy exclaimed. Then he became chagrined, "That shames me as well; I should have done something about him long ago. I just did not know what. Honestly, what I wanted to do to him was impossible, so I just let him leave."

"If it had been my…relative, I would have had him beaten up," offered Elizabeth.

"Richard, my cousin, wanted to do just that. I was afraid of what he might say in retaliation. You have found a great way to punish him." He thought for a while. "I have all the invoices for the money I paid in his stead in Lambton and some other places. Do you think I should send for them?" he asked both.

They looked at each other. "Not a bad idea. If nothing else, you could talk with his colonel, and if he does not behave after his months of punishment, he would have another round of debts to pay," Elizabeth suggested.

"Bravo! Ladies, once again. I shall do just that. You two shame me." He shook his head.

"Well, we are glad to be of service." Elizabeth was in her element. "Only, it is not all. We heard that he was in the infirmary. Every time he showed himself among the soldiers, he managed to end up sitting on the fence…astride… I do not understand what that means…but my father would not explain."

"Excuse me?" Darcy winced in pain at the thought. "Oh, that must have hurt! Oh, my!"

"You understand…and by the look on your face, it is something painful."

"Very much so." He said in a strangled voice.

"Well, Mr Wickham needed that to happen several times before he learnt that he was not wanted among his fellows. Some of them who feel cheated out of their money at cards let it known in the village that bad things happen to those who do not play by the rules."

"Heavens!" Mr Darcy chuckled. They all laughed at that.

After that, the conversation shifted to how Mr Darcy and Georgiana had settled in. Then, Elizabeth excused herself, saying she would check on her sister, Mary and Miss Darcy, and left the door slightly ajar. Darcy's gaze followed Elizabeth briefly before returning to Jane, a contemplative light softening his expression. "Your sister seemed to take pleasure in seeing Wickham face some consequences," he remarked, his tone tinged with a quiet humour."

Jane tilted her head. "Yes, she was rather upset by his taking advantage of her good heart." She paused, gathering her thoughts before adding with a tentative smile. "We had a lengthy conversation last night."

"I see. I presume I was discussed."

Jane looked at him. There was no use denying it. "Yes, you could say that."

Darcy hesitated as if weighing his words carefully. "Miss Bennet, I would very much like to speak with you – in private, if possible. At the same time, I do not want to put you on the spot in front of your family. Is there a way we could meet?" he asked cautiously.

Jane hesitated, her curiosity mingling with apprehension. Darcy's request felt at once formal and deeply personal, a sharp contrast to their light-hearted exchange moments earlier.

"Thank you for being considerate. We are in private now." She gestured around the room.

Darcy shook his head. "Not truly. And I would prefer to be prepared for what I must say."

Jane's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You need to prepare to talk to me?"

"Well, yes." He cleared his throat, clearly nervous.

"And what would you like to talk to me about, Mr Darcy?" Jane asked, growing more serious.

Darcy looked at her intently, then stood up and offered his hand. She took it, rising as well. Without a word, he led her to one of the window alcoves, away from prying ears. "Did Miss Elizabeth tell you about our conversation?"

"Yes, some of it, though not in detail."

"Truthfully, I did not plan to have that discussion just then. I wanted to talk to you first. She is very clever, your sister. I was an open book to her."

"Mr Darcy, please answer my question!" Jane urged.

He met her gaze and swallowed before speaking. "Us. I would like to discuss us, Miss Bennet." He waited for her to understand.

"Us?" Jane repeated the word as if tasting it. "What do you mean? There is no us."

"I know. Only I would like to see if there could be an us. I wish to explore the possibility of there being an us. To see if there might be something more between us."

"Oh." She looked at him in wonder. For a fleeting moment, Jane wondered if she had misunderstood. But Darcy's steady gaze, filled with quiet determination, left no doubt in her mind. He meant every word. He wanted to court her.

Mr Darcy studied her closely; his eyes found her lips. In response, her heart quickened, and a tremor passed through her as she leaned subtly on the window frame, steadying herself. "I – I did not write to you to make you…"

"No, I know that. And that's not why… I cannot say more here. I would appreciate it if you could arrange some time to discuss this." Darcy cleared his throat, his gaze steady, though a hint of uncertainty softened his otherwise firm demeanour.

Jane took a deep breath. "I shall be walking with Elizabeth tomorrow morning, about nine, toward Netherfield."

"Thank you. I shall ride out then," he responded, relief evident in his voice. He had to clear his throat as his composure wavered for a heartbeat. It was unlike him to feel so unsteady, but this conversation had stirred something unfamiliar – a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

"Very well, Mr Darcy," she said, turning to leave him at the window. As she reached the chairs, she glanced over her shoulder, "I look forward to hearing the speech you prepare." As she turned, Jane could hardly suppress her smile, her heart racing in anticipation of what the next day might bring.

Mr Darcy stopped, "Is it possible, Miss Bennet, that you are laughing at me?"

"I cannot deny that I enjoy this immensely." She openly laughed.

Darcy's lips curved into a slow smile. "Miss Bennet, I find myself both charmed and at your mercy. Shall I rehearse my speech tonight?"

Jane tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Oh no, Mr Darcy. Improvisation often yields the most authentic results."