Take a peek into the novel

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 13

Shortbread and Visitors

Previously

Jane was momentarily speechless upon receiving the letter from Hill. She did not expect any further contact with the Darcys, yet it warmed her heart that they reached out to her. Surely, if she wrote to her, that must have been with her brother's approval.

Miss Darcy had a lot to say. Indeed, she asked if she would correspond with her, but she also told her all about her and her brother's doings. They were certainly very busy, as she had imagined. She was amazed at all the things she was writing about. Vauxhall Gardens? She almost went there this time, but her outing with the Gardiners was cancelled due to a succession of rainy days.

Darcy sent a message through his sister. Jane was glad she was on her own when she read it. In her surprise, the paper almost fell out of her hand. He asked whether he would be welcomed in Hertfordshire.

So, he decided to pursue Lizzy.

As the realisation settled in, she felt a tight squeeze in her chest, a bittersweet mix of emotions washing over her. It was a painful reminder of her own heart's desires, desires that seemed just out of reach. While she wished nothing but the best for her sister, a part of her yearned for the same chance at love, the possibility of a future filled with joy and companionship. In the deep corners of her heart, she felt she could have loved Mr Darcy. Her mind would play tricks on her and make her imagine different events and different outcomes. She had to shake herself. She dearly hoped her sister might embrace this second chance, as it held the promise of happiness for them both.

She sought out Elizabeth. She had been silent about Mr Darcy, and she had kept her own council. She was nervous about raising the issue because she had no idea how her sister would react. "Lizzy, I wonder. Have you thought more about Mr Darcy's proposal?"

Elizabeth looked up in surprise.

"Why would I think about it? Mostly, I just want to forget it."

"You still do not think you could change your mind about him? Would you not agree he proves himself a better man than once assumed?"

"I do not dispute that, Jane, but the man had been everything but friendly to me. Even when he walked with me at Hunsford, he hardly said anything."

"Maybe he was tongue-tied."

Elizabeth sighed, "That is just it. We're different. There's a reason for all the misunderstanding between us. Anyway, it is a moot point. Even if I change my mind, I do not think he'll seek me out again. No man would. Anyway, Lydia showed me the paper – Mr Darcy has been seen at several balls this season and has been dancing with several ladies. As you see, he has moved on."

"What are you talking about?" Jane asked. Mr Darcy dancing on his own accord? She did not want to be bothered by this knowledge, but she was.

"It was in the gossip column. Lydia showed it to me this morning."

Jane gulped.

"Going to a few balls – that does not mean anything. He is obligated to socialise," she tried to convince herself. "What I meant is that now you know much more about him. He is clever and gave up society's expectations for you; he is handsome and honourable. Come on, these must make a difference."

"I do not know… Why are you asking me these questions? I cannot see how we could see past what had happened."

"How would you react if he came after you?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Do not be silly, Jane. He escorted you home and invited us to the theatre only because of your letter. It had nothing to do with me. Anyway, we said our piece in London, and he did not attempt to gain my favour. That's over. Besides, no man would put himself in a vulnerable situation twice, especially after everything I said to him. I do not think he still holds me in high regard. I would not."

"But still, if he decided to try again."

"There's no point in thinking about that, Jane. When we talked at his house, I asked him."

"Oh, my! What – what did you ask?"

"Ugh, I asked if he had organised the evening for me."

"And?"

"He said he wanted me to think better of him, but he also said that that was all. I've told you he had moved on."

"Yes, but still, would you welcome him?"

"I do not know. I would be very surprised…"

"Would you wish to see him again, though?"

"I confess, I cannot say I should welcome such an opportunity, for I do not believe we should suit. I like to laugh, but I have never seen him do that – not even a smile…well, until London. I always feel like he tries to intimidate me like I have to be on my guard. I do not care for that."

Jane listened. She decided not to argue.

Jane hesitated on how to answer the letter and the question in it. Her pen hovered over the page, her thoughts a tangle of emotions too complicated to untangle in a single response. Elizabeth still did not understand what an opportunity this was for her. She was sure that if she let go of her hurt pride, she could see the possibilities that a clever, dutiful, and passionate man's love could mean for her. Elizabeth could learn to love him. She decided to be truthful but encouraging. If he decided on his course to try again, he should show her sister the side of him that Jane already knew.

***

Darcy and Georgiana were having dinner at Palmer's Devon house. They had arrived after two days on the road and had been enjoying themselves. Georgiana enjoyed Pamela's company, now on a first-name basis. He and Anthony had much fun on the estate and the neighbouring forest east of Exeter. The whole company visited the seaside as well. The estate was of middle size and came to them from Pamela's side. They were given it as a wedding present by her ailing uncle. It had a handsome three-story house and beautiful formal gardens.

The conversation flowed easily. Pamela gave a look to her husband and gestured to Darcy.

"So, William, what is this with you and throwing yourself into the season? It is not like you," Anthony spoke.

Georgiana giggled.

Darcy cleared his throat. "I do not know what you mean."

"Come now, Darcy. Dancing around? It isn't like you. The papers are full of it."

Darcy groaned.

Anthony looked at him in earnest. "You are different. Something is up."

"It is a sad state of affairs if the papers have nothing better to do than report about my dancing choices." Darcy rolled his eyes.

Antony just kept looking at Darcy.

Darcy looked at his plate for some time.

"You do not know how good you have it." Darcy gestured with his hand at the pair. "You have arrived at the next stages of your lives. You have found each other. You are happy." He paused. "I want to have that as well."

"We have figured as much. Do you want to talk about it?"

"William, talk to them," Georgiana interrupted and stood up. "If you all do not mind, I shall retire."

"You do not have to go."

"It is quite all right; a good novel awaits me. I should be pleased to see you tomorrow."

Everybody said good night to her as she left. The Palmers looked at Darcy expectantly.

"You said to me that you were friends first."

They both smiled and nodded. Anthony took his wife's hand and kissed it.

Darcy followed this with his eyes. "Well, my story is a bit complicated."

"When is it not? We have time." Anthony poured more wine into their glasses and waved the footman away.

"It is also embarrassing – for me."

"I promise not to laugh. Or, I shall try," chuckled Anthony.

"You are among friends. Let us help you if we can," said Pamela, looking at her husband scornfully.

"Thank you." Darcy took a big breath and started his tale. He told about his time in Hertfordshire, the intervening months, and Hunsford. He was not silent about his mistakes.

"Oh, William," Pamela sighed.

"Man, that is some story," Anthony shook his head.

Pamela shook her head. "I do not understand; you were together at the theatre."

"They would've been there anyway – I offered my box to the family, but that is another story. She only accepted reluctantly."

"Another story – Miss Bennet? I have a feeling there is a story there as well. You're never cosy with a woman." He glanced at his wife.

"If I tell you, I do not want you to think less of her for something she did. I have the highest respect for her. And what I say stays between us," Darcy said defensively.

"Of course. We will not say a word," Pamela also nodded and leaned forward to listen to what he had to say.

Darcy hesitated, his gaze shifting to the fire. "I have often mistaken conviction for feeling," he admitted, voice quieter. "Yet with Miss Bennet…there is a gentleness that compels reflection." His confession came slowly as if speaking it aloud gave it new weight.

"As I said, I wasn't in the mood for socialising in Hertfordshire. At the same event where I insulted Miss Elizabeth, I noticed her sister, Miss Bennet. She is a very handsome woman with a lovely figure. What man would not notice her?" He fidgeted on his chair uncomfortably and glanced at Pamela. "She was elegant and graceful, and she stood out from the crowd. I know not if I would have approached her, but Bingley decided for me. He jumped in with his overly enthusiastic self and monopolised her immediately. He even danced with her twice on the same evening."

Pamela gasped at that.

"Yes, I know. She told me later that she could not escape it because he asked her in front of her mother." He sighed. "You can well imagine a mother milking the situation for what it was worth."

"Not different from any matchmaking mama of the ton," Anthony quipped.

Darcy looked around and took a sip of wine. "Anyway, I did not pay Miss Bennet any attention after that. Bingley was always around her, and I think I put her in the empty blond category of Bingley's usual conquests. The next time I paid attention to her was when I heard that there was a general expectation for Bingley to offer for her at a ball. I did not think she was in love with him, and I said so to Bingley in London afterwards."

"I do not understand. What was it to you if she loved him or not? Is that why Mr Bingley abandoned her? … You do realise that that marriage prospect could have been it for her?" Pamela was indignant.

"I know. I did not think of it that way. I just wanted my friend to be happy in his marriage. He seemed to like her, but in hindsight, I see how careless I was with her heart."

"And was she in love with him?" Pamela asked.

"No, she was not. I know this because, on the morning of the day we met at the theatre, she delivered a letter to me. From herself." Pamela and Anthony both were taken aback.

"She did what?"

"Heavens!"

"I know, but she had just learnt about my letter to her sister about my disastrous proposal. She said in the letter that she wanted to offer me peace of mind and to vindicate me as her sister wrongly assumed that she was pining after Bingley. She had no other way to contact me. She did not mean for us to meet, but we did… She said later that she thought it was fate."

"When I took her home, I asked her what she thought of what happened at Hunsford. I must tell you that she did not mince her words. She was severe with me. Nobody had ever talked to me that way. The strange thing is that I took it in stride."

"Well, good, because that was badly done, Darcy," Anthony vented.

"Where did you learn to propose like that?" Pamela shook her head.

"I know that now; only then, I did not think. Anyway, in just one day, she helped me tremendously. Her insights were very logical, with hindsight. Then, she tried to make me make amends with her sister and maybe even start again, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I had been too hasty. I had built Miss Elizabeth up in my mind to be this ideal woman for me while, in actuality, I knew little of her. The worst hit on my ego was that I had to realise that what I interpreted as her gentle flirting, she actually disliked me. She was deliberately…impertinent at times."

"At the same time, I learnt a lot about Miss Bennet. I did not even realise until that evening how easy it was to talk to her. It felt like we had a common ground from being spurned. She had shared herself with me in the letter, which made it comfortable. She wanted me to feel better about myself, so she confessed that she… erm…admired me. While I watched her sister, apparently, she was observing me."

"Pardon!"

"Oh, that is precious! This is getting better and better," Pamela exclaimed. "What did she write? How do you feel about that?"

"Well, when a beautiful woman says the most endearing things about you, not even thinking of my fortune, that affects you, I guess." He took another sip.

"What does she like about you?" Pamela was vibrating.

Darcy blushed, "Well, she mentioned what she was looking for in a man. She wants someone who knows what he wants, a man of reason, knowledge, and duty – her father is everything but that.

"Oh, that is you!" Anthony jumped in.

"She also mentioned that she suspected I had passion hidden behind my mask – something even I struggled to understand. She recognised mine!" He could not believe he had said that out loud. He was red then.

"That is it! You have to marry this woman, William. She really sees you, and she dared to write it down. Amazing!"

"Although I was touched by what she wrote, it was not that. It made me realise I had never taken the pain to think about what I wanted in a wife. What I want and what I need. I knew what I did not want based on my experiences, but she – she…there's a lot more to her than I had thought. The little glimpses into her told me she was the woman for me… Oh, my! I have never said this out loud." He shook his head. "Hence the dancing at balls. I wanted to meet other ladies."

"For comparison?" Anthony asked.

"Something like that. It was more of an instinct. She made me want to know more about her. I keep thinking about her. I am not in love with her per se, but does it make sense if I say that I want to?"

The Palmers just kept nodding and grinning. "You are halfway there if you want to be." Pamela was full of smiles.

Darcy shrugged. "I do not know her well yet, but I feel… I want to know her better. I think there could be something between us. We only met for a day, but it was enough to plant a seed in my head and heart, and it hasn't left me. I mentioned your initial friendship because that is where we are now."

"I believe friendship is a wonderful way to start a relationship. If you cannot be friends, you'll never be true lovers. But if you put your mind to it, love will come through shared time and familiarity." He turned to his wife, "Pamela, do not listen." Turning back to Darcy, he mouthed, "marital bed," then out loud, "Friendship is the best foundation."

Darcy chuckled at his friend's antics. "That's what I thought. Thank you. I want to do a better job this time. Now, my problem is that Miss Bennet is the sister of the woman I proposed to not long ago."

"You're right. Well, that's quite a situation. Are you sure you are over her?" Anthony asked.

Darcy looked at his drink. "I shall never forget the feeling she incited in me. At the same time, I am glad she refused me. Knowing more about her and talking to her in London, I think it is best to leave it at that. We are not for each other. On the other hand, she has awakened in me the need for something new in my life. I shall always be grateful for that. So, back to my situation. There is more. I had enquired through Georgiana if Miss Bennet would welcome me in Hertfordshire, but something was lost in translation, and now she thinks I asked her about Miss Elizabeth because it was her I wanted to pursue."

"Oh, no. How can that be? You and your verbal skills!" Pamela cried.

***

Darcy was reading Jane's words. He was surprised at himself: he felt like a schoolboy when Georgiana announced that she had received a response from Hertfordshire. He had asked his sister to write a letter to Miss Bennet. She was not even shocked by his request. They had further talks during the last weeks. Darcy had shared his growing fascination with Miss Bennet.

Thoughts swirling in his mind made him act. He did not want to surprise Miss Bennet; he wanted to give her an opportunity to understand his intentions.

He read her answer to his question several times, then put the letter down and looked in front of himself.

Try again?... She thinks I want to pursue Miss Elizabeth. Oh, no! Why would she believe that? You unassuming lovely woman, it is you I want to see again.

***

"So, what do you think?" Darcy asked.

"You did not find anybody in London."

Darcy shook his head slightly.

"You have searched there for years."

He nodded.

"So, William, what do you want in a woman?" Pamela asked.

"Good question… I want a woman who is intelligent, educated, and dutiful. I want to be able to talk to her and not moan because of boredom after ten minutes. I want somebody kind, who cares for others. She would have to take care of my staff and tenants. Miss Bennet already does that at home. She visits tenants. Do you know, she actually does her father's ledgers?"

"What? You must be joking!"

Darcy shook his head.

"What kind of a man is he?"

"Exactly." Darcy nodded and continued, "I also want to be attracted to her in every way, of course, and I want somebody who could love me."

"Do you realise that you might as well have described the rarest flower? If Miss Bennet is half that, you need to pursue her." Anthony spoke.

"Well, what I saw of her that evening and what you say seems encouraging. Is she your Miss Bennet? Is she all this?"

"Erm, my Miss Bennet…she's not mine…yet. Yes, let us just say that she has great potential. I believe she needs someone like me to be there for her so that she can bloom. Otherwise, she will wither in Hertfordshire. She deserves more. I could be that more – not because of what I offer, but because of what she inspires in me."

"Well, there it is then! You must pursue her. Even if you had offered for her sister," Anthony said with conviction.

Pamela was also of the same opinion. "Go to Hertfordshire," she suggested.

"If I go to Hertfordshire and court her, there'll be no turning back. I trap her just like Bingley did before he abandoned her. Her mother…"

"I see what you mean."

"I do have some ideas I have been playing with. What if I put together a house party during the summer?"

"Interesting. Go on."

"I thought I could invite some people, including the Misses Bennet. We could have more quality time together, even alone. You cannot really get to know one another in fifteen-minute parlour talks in front of her whole family."

"Good point, Darcy. It was frustrating. Thank goodness, sometimes our chaperone was Pamela's grandmother. She often fell to sleep." He chuckled. "I think this sounds like an excellent idea!"

"Would you come?"

Anthony and Pamela looked at each other.

"Tell us when, and we will be there. It will be fun."

Darcy just groaned.

***

At Longbourn, a few days later

Monday 25th, May 1812

"Mrs Bennet, Miss Bennet says she cannot come as she's in the middle of 'er task," the maid timidly said, glancing at the gentleman.

"Thank you, Millie." Mrs Bennet turned back to Darcy. "Perhaps you could visit with Mr Bennet for a short time. My Jane has been making biscuits for the tenants. I am sure she'll finish soon, and then she can join us."

"Thank you, Mrs Bennet. I shall do just that."

Darcy had been sitting in Mrs Bennet's parlour and inquired after the eldest daughter after ten minutes. Elizabeth was so stunned that she was not of much use for conversation. When she composed herself, she enjoyed Mr Darcy trying to make conversation with her mother. He started very well; she had to hand it to him. He had brought the ladies chocolate. Her mother was so affected that she was polite and spoke well.

Darcy exited Mrs Bennet's parlour with a courteous nod, but once out of sight, he paused, caught by an uncharacteristic hesitation. Just outside the doorway, he took a steadying breath, aware of a faint nervous energy within him – a sensation both unsettling and oddly welcome. Jane Bennet was no mere acquaintance; her presence carried a promise of quiet understanding, of being known without effort or pretence. Would she sense his intent today? Was he truly prepared for what lay ahead?

Darcy exhaled, his decision firming even as uncertainty remained. He stepped forward, his heart a blend of resolve and anticipation, both keenly aware of the woman somewhere in the house and the journey that beckoned.

Darcy came out of Mr Bennet's study. He hesitated because he did not pay attention to the direction he was led to his room. As he turned left, he heard a gasp. He looked up and saw Jane frozen, her hand on her breast.

There she is.

In her other hand, there was a plate full of shortbread. It was at a dangerous angle, and the contents were about to fall on the floor. Darcy reacted, stepped closer, and reached for the plate.

Watching her in this everyday task, Darcy found himself drawn not only to her beauty but to her steadfast, unaffected manner. She was at ease here, among her family's daily routines, a vision of quiet diligence and grace that felt strikingly rare in his world.

Jane, on the other hand, could not move.

She was about to go into her father's room with some of the shortbread she had made when she saw the door open and Mr Darcy emerge. Her body did not react suddenly. As she looked at him, he was so out of place there. It felt like a dream she did not want to wake up from.

She smiled inwardly – he did not know his way.

He has come. She knew he had come for Lizzy, yet seeing him again held a quiet significance for her; it breathed a rare sense of vitality into her. If nothing else, he was a connection to a world she could scarcely imagine.

Darcy stood there now with the plate in his hand. He merely regarded her for a moment. He had always seen her impeccably dressed and coiffed. Now she stood there with a lovely apron tied around her waist in a dress rougher than he had used to see her in. She was somewhat dishevelled; her beautiful hair was down and loosely tied, the curls came to the front, and some of her right cheek was covered with flour. It was in this unguarded moment, with her hair softly tumbling and a faint blush to her cheeks, that Darcy felt a startling surge of certainty – a recognition of something precious in its quiet grace. Darcy's eyes drank in her features. She was an incredibly beautiful woman – even more so in this unguarded moment, where her simple charm eclipsed all finery. Darcy finally just swallowed.

Jane, as she stood there, could not believe her luck. To be seen in her messy work clothes, especially by Mr Darcy, was unthinkable, yet he was in front of her, staring at her. She valiantly tried to think of something to say. Taking back the plate, she managed to utter,

"Would – would you care for one?"

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."