After their greeting and a few cordial words, Mrs. Jenkinson offered to help Anne back to her room.

“No thank you, Mrs. Jenkinson. I should prefer to remain down here with my cousins if you do not mind.”

Lady Catherine looked sternly at her daughter. “Impossible, Anne! You know my sentiments. You require all the rest you can get, and this has already been too much excitement for you.”

“But they have only just arrived. I should like to visit with them a little longer. Please, Mother.”

Lady Catherine grudgingly relented. “For only a few minutes more. Then you must retire. I will hear nothing further from you.”

As they visited, Lady Catherine did most of the talking. Darcy watched as Anne stole glances at their cousin, who made every attempt to engage Anne in conversation. Darcy let out a soft chuckle. He could easily see why Anne was so partial to him. Fitzwilliam was very attentive toward their frail cousin, even though he had no romantic inclinations toward her. He had an engaging personality and had nothing to fear in regards to her admiration.

Darcy’s thoughts went back to Anne. She was certainly not as fragile as her mother believed her to be. It was true she had been ill as a child and had been greatly weakened because of it. But shielding her from any sort of life, activity, and hardship of any kind had only served to give her the appearance of frailty. Darcy was convinced that all she needed was a bit more freedom to experience the warmth of the sunshine on her face as she walked, the joy of a dance at a ball with a favourite gentleman, or the thrill of going to the theatre or a concert in Town. While he was certain her mother would never allow it, Darcy was convinced it would do nothing but improve her.

In the midst of Darcy’s musings, he became aware of his aunt making some sort of reference to Mr. Collins. He turned toward her and caught only the last part of what she was saying.

“So now I must find another clergyman, and you know how difficult it is to find one who will be suited for the position. I do not look forward to having to prepare another. Mr. Collins had been so accommodating and learned to gratify my expectations so well.”

“Excuse me, Aunt,” Darcy interrupted. “What happened to Mr. Collins?”

“He has quit Hunsford! He and Mrs. Collins! Three months ago! It has been extremely vexing for me to try to find another clergyman who suits me. I have had two come and go already! It is not to be borne!”

Darcy was surprised at the sudden feeling of disappointment he felt upon hearing this news, knowing now there would be no possibility of encountering Miss Elizabeth again. He looked curiously at his aunt as he inquired, “Where did Mr. Collins and his wife go?”

“To that estate that was entailed to him in Hertfordshire, of course. Mr… Mr… whatever-his-name died last year, and he and Mrs. Collins claimed their rightful possession of it.”

“Mr. Bennet?” Darcy asked abruptly. He just as quickly softened his voice in an attempt to hide his piqued interest. “Was it Mr. Bennet who died?”

“Yes, he is the very one. Mr. Bennet. This has been a grave inconvenience.” Lady Catherine expelled a drawn-out huff.

“Yes, I can imagine,” Darcy said with noticeable irritation, rubbing his chin as he considered this. “But do you know, Aunt, what happened with the Bennet ladies? Do they remain at Longbourn with Mr. Collins and his wife?”

“The Bennet ladies? Well, how should I know and why should I care about them? They do not concern me. I am solely concerned with finding someone suitable to be Rosings’s clergyman.” Her grey eyes narrowed into small slits.

Darcy struggled to remain calm. It became a burden even to swallow, and although he had determined this past year to put Miss Bennet out of his mind, he had found it increasingly difficult to put her out of his heart. He wanted to know—needed to know—what had become of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

He struggled for composure, knowing any indication of interest would spark Patrick’s curiosity. He could not appear too concerned.

He need not have worried though, because his cousin suddenly asked, “Is that Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s family? The one who visited the Collinses last year whilst we were here?” His blue eyes lit up with recollection.

“The very one,” Lady Catherine observed. She shook her head repeatedly. “Impertinent young lady, if I recall. But I really cannot tell you what happened to them. I suppose if they are fortunate, they are still living at Longbourn with the Collinses. After all, he is a clergyman—and they are family—I am quite certain he has had compassion for them and allowed them to remain.”

Darcy stood up and walked over to the window, surprised by those thoughts and feelings that had unexpectedly returned. He took in a deep breath to calm himself. Looking out at the grounds, he thought back to the events of a year ago. Miss Bennet’s rejection of his suit had hurt and angered him greatly, but judging by the feelings that were presently surfacing, he realized he still cared deeply for her.

As he considered the Bennet ladies’ situation, he knew not whether it would be more fortunate for them to still be living at Longbourn with the Collinses or to have been forcibly removed from their home. He could not imagine her living in the same household as Collins. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His heart beat rapidly at the mere thought of her, the only woman he had ever loved.

Granted, he had been impulsive in asking for her hand, yet he had reasoned she returned his regard. He had always enjoyed their discussions—he found her wit and intelligence stimulating. But he discovered too late that while she had been relentlessly in his thoughts those months since he first made her acquaintance, he had certainly not been in hers. And those times when he was, it was almost always in a very poor light.

She had lashed out at him in her refusal of his suit. Yet it had been in the past few months that he finally was able to look back at their last encounter with a measure of equanimity. He had come to the realization that much of what she had said to him that day was true.

“It is my opinion, however,” his aunt continued haughtily, “that if the Bennets had been asked to leave Longbourn, it would serve Miss Bennet right! What insolence she exhibited when she turned down the proposal!”

Stunned, Darcy turned abruptly and drew back as the colour drained from his face.

Fitzwilliam was now very interested. “Turned down a proposal? Whose proposal?”

Darcy felt a wave of anxiety course through his body and wondered how anyone came to learn of his proposal and her rejection of it.

“Why, Mr. Collins’s proposal! Before he asked for the present Mrs. Collins’s hand, he had gone to Miss Bennet. I thought you knew. She refused him flatly, she did, without any consideration for his feelings or the welfare of her family.”

Darcy swallowed as he contemplated his aunt’s words. This meant that when he proposed to her a year ago and was turned down, she had already turned down another proposal. His mind swirled with thoughts as he contemplated the type of woman Miss Bennet was. She had turned down a proposal from the man who would have kept Longbourn in her family at the death of her father, and then had turned down his proposal, he, who could have provided her with everything she could have ever wanted.

Why?

Deep in his heart he knew why. He could readily understand why she would have turned down Collins. She could never marry a man she did not respect.

Darcy contemplated his own proposal. He had gone to her fairly confident that she would accept his hand. Yet she had turned him down as well. And for the same reason. She did not respect him.

This was all nothing to him now. He spent the last year recovering from his miscalculations. He knew now that he had been wrong in anticipating her acceptance of his suit. As he looked out at the lane that separated Rosings from the parsonage, he was surprised that he could almost hear her voice: “I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character.”

His body involuntarily shuddered at the memory. Combing his fingers through his hair, he turned. “If you will excuse me, I am rather fatigued. I shall be in my room.”

As he walked up the grand staircase, he inwardly berated himself for the disappointment he now felt. Had he actually come to Rosings this year with the expectation that he would hear something about her? Possibly even see her again? Was he holding out hope that perhaps the letter he had placed in her hand one year ago may have changed her opinion of him?

Upon reaching his room, he entered and closed the door behind him. He had made such a concerted effort this past year to mend his ways, examine his prejudices, and lay aside his pride. And even though he told himself it was all done to improve himself as a person, he knew now that he had hoped Miss Elizabeth Bennet might give him a second chance if she saw that he had attended to her criticisms.

She was well aware that he came to Rosings every Easter. He had secretly wished that she would make plans to visit her friend Charlotte as well. In the deepest recesses of his being, he had hoped that she would be here. But it had been futile and foolish thinking. Even if Collins were still here, she would never have planned a visit knowing there was the possibility that hewould be here.

He slumped into the chair that faced the desk. It was the same chair and desk where he had written that letter a year ago. He had been hurt and angered by Miss Bennet’s words and responded likewise. Now he wondered what she had thought as she first read the missive. What had he written? Was his anger so strong in his words of the defence of his character and actions that they rendered her angry as well and reinforced her opinion of him?