In less time by the watch than his anxious thoughts could credit, his coach was rolling up Netherfield’s drive, and the house came into view. He had sent no letter announcing his return, and Bingley’s expectations of it were vague, as Darcy had wanted them to be in case he decided against it. His friend might not be home. But as the coach drew up to the house, the door opened, and Bingley stood at the entrance with a look of pure delight upon his open countenance.

“Darcy! I say, Darcy!” he exclaimed as he came down the steps to meet him. “This is above everything!” He grabbed his friend’s hand as soon as Darcy descended from the coach.

“Charles,” he began, “I apologize for giving you no warning —”

“Nonsense,” Bingley replied. “I am that glad that you are here. I am about to run mad with no one with whom to share my good fortune. Here, you must come in. I have so much to tell you!” Refreshment was ordered as Bingley pulled him into the library and begged him to be seated.

“But, Charles, my dirt!” Darcy indicated the traveling dust that had settled on his arms and shoulders.

“Dirt be hanged, Darcy!” Bingley laughed. A servant knocked and entered with the tray, but almost before the door shut behind him Bingley burst forth. “I am engaged!…Engaged to the loveliest angel in the world! My beautiful Jane has consented, and her father agreed. We are to be married, Darcy, married!” He laughed again. “Can you believe it, for I cannot! It is too wonderful!”

“Not at all, Charles!” Darcy took him by the shoulders. “I can think of no other man who deserves such happiness, truly I cannot. Did you think she might refuse you? What nonsense! I wish you joy, my friend, you and your future wife.” At his words, tears stung at Bingley’s eyes. Darcy clapped his shoulders roughly and turned away.

“Thank you, Darcy.” Bingley cleared his throat. “Thank you. Now, how may I serve you?”

“I can hardly say, except that I hope you will allow me to stay. It may be only a day, it may be more; I do not yet know.”

Bingley regarded him curiously. “My home is at your disposal, you must know that. Can you tell me no more?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Darcy replied. “It is business of a personal nature. Perhaps it is all folly, I do not know. But,” he continued with a smile, “it is nothing that will diminish your own joy however it falls out. All I ask is that you allow me to come with you when next you visit the home of your fiancée.”

“Certainly,” Bingley answered him. “I am to visit tomorrow. Since Jane and I are engaged, there is no time I am not welcome. We can go as early or as late as you please.” Bingley continued to look at him curiously.

“What do you say to a game of billiards before dinner?” Darcy proposed a distraction that had always worked with his cousin.

“Certainly!” Bingley pursed his lips. “Shall we wager on the outcome?”


Early the following day, Darcy and Bingley set out for Longbourn with a fresh autumn breeze at their backs. The leaves were turning, the multihued trees framing the harvested fields and golden pastures. Although Bingley had caught Darcy up on all the events since his departure two weeks before, there still seemed to be minutiae yet to be imparted; and so the ride was filled with the overflow of Bingley’s enthusiasm for his soon-to-be in-laws. Far from being bored, Darcy listened carefully for any clue that might lend him insight into the tenor of the Bennet household in general and Elizabeth in particular. From Bingley’s descriptions, it seemed that all there were in a flurry of goodwill and excitement over the coming nuptials. Of Elizabeth, he heard only how good she was to her sister and how often she had turned her mother aside to some task in order to allow Bingley some precious moments alone with his bride to be.

Their arrival was greeted with all the happiness that Bingley had described, although several curious glances were thrown Darcy’s way. Not a little fearful of what this day would bring, he could hardly look at Elizabeth. When they had dismounted and made their bows, Bingley immediately advocated that, on this beautiful day, they should all walk out and enjoy it. His proposal was readily agreed to, and while Jane, Elizabeth, and Kitty sought their bonnets and wraps, Mrs. Bennet took her prospective son-in-law by the arm and advised him with authority that the paths to and from Longbourn were the prettiest to be had in the area, although, she confided, she herself was not in the habit of walking.

While Bingley was thus engaged, Darcy stepped away and looked out over the garden. Most of it had been raked and overturned, but some hardy blooms still waved their colorful heads in the light breeze. He breathed in the musty scent, holding it for a moment in an attempt to soothe the racing of his heart. Again, time seemed to be plunging headlong into the future, his future, consuming and discarding the precious present in the most wanton manner. At one and the same moment, he longed for Elizabeth to appear and devoutly wished that she would delay, at least until he could achieve some semblance of control over his heart.

A noise from the doorway told him that the young ladies were ready, and he turned back to see Bingley holding out his hand to Jane. Elizabeth stepped lightly from the house, the sunlight dappling dark and light over her rusty brown spencer and green muslin dress. There was nothing elegant about her appearance. She was dressed for a walk. Yet her every expression and movement inspired his admiration.

Bingley secured his Jane’s hand, and as the pair set off, Elizabeth turned away from them with a smile and then — oh, it took his breath away to see it — lifted her eyes to him. It required no exercise of will or command of his limbs to take him to her side. He was suddenly there, and they were turning down the path after Bingley and Jane, the younger sister somewhere behind them. After a brief discussion of their route, in which Darcy took no part or interest, it was decided that they would walk toward Lucas Lodge, where Kitty would leave them in favor of a visit with Miss Maria Lucas. The arrangement could not have fallen out more favorably. It remained only to put some distance between themselves and the newly engaged pair, and he would have no excuse, nothing save his own fears, to hinder him from knowing his fate.

The group moved forward down the lane between fields and through a small wood. Sooner than he had expected, Bingley and Jane were well behind them, walking slower and slower as the privacy of their surroundings increased. “Mr. Bingley has chosen a fine day for a walk,” Elizabeth ventured, “although I do not think he notices where he is going.”

“Yes, it is a fine day.” Darcy looked behind them. “And I believe you are correct about Bingley. Your sister also, perhaps?”

“Very likely.” They walked on, leaves crunching and sliding beneath their feet, a renewed silence between them. Several excruciating minutes passed before he asked whether this was her favorite walk.

“Only when Charlotte is home, for there — do you see it?” She pointed ahead to a divergence among the trees. “That is the way to Lucas Lodge. I suppose I could walk it blindfolded.” He nodded that, yes, he saw where the way divided, and as he did so, Kitty brushed past them.

“May I go, then, Elizabeth?” she asked, studiously avoiding Darcy’s eyes. He could see that she wanted nothing better than to be away from such dull company as he provided.

“Yes, you may go, but return before dusk, and do not ask Sir William to drive you home,” she admonished her younger sister.

With a roll of her eyes, Kitty left them, hurrying down the path to her friend. Darcy looked back the way they had come, but Bingley and Jane were not to be seen. They were now quite alone. He waited to see which direction Elizabeth would go. With a quick glance up at him, she stepped forward, continuing down the path. He struck out after her. It must be now, he told himself.

He drew abreast of her and began to reach for her arm to arrest her stride when she slowed of her own accord and looked up at him with a troubled countenance. “Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature,” she began, “and for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings care not how much I may be wounding yours.” Surprised by such a speech, Darcy stopped short and regarded her with concern. “I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister.” Elizabeth’s words rushed on although she could hardly meet his eye. “Ever since I have known it I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”

She knew! Darcy’s heart twisted into an icy knot around this revelation, which changed everything, perhaps damaging every possibility between them. The reasons for her actions on his last visit were now only too explicable. “I am sorry,” he managed to reply, “exceedingly sorry that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness.” He looked past her and exhaled a pained chuff of air before saying, “I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted.”

“You must not blame my aunt.” Elizabeth’s voice was pleading. “Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course,” she confessed, “I could not rest till I knew the particulars.” She took a deep breath. “Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them.”

Darcy listened, his heart released from his initial fears as he heard Elizabeth describe his actions in the most benevolent of terms. She did not blame him for interfering. She was grateful, that was clear. But gratitude alone could be devastating to his hopes. He wanted more than her gratitude or an alliance founded on such an inequality. He wanted her heart, fully and freely given, or not at all.