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Richard straightened his sullen posture and took a step closer to Darcy.

“You might think on that ,” he spat. “Miss Elizabeth would have little trouble entering the ton as Mrs. Darcy with the next Countess of Matlock as her staunchest defender, and if my stepmother and sisters know what is good for him, they will follow Caroline’s lead - I fully to see them gracious and repentant when next they meet with the two eldest Miss Bennets. ”

Darcy gaped at his cousin. “Are you quite serious about Miss Bingley?”

Before he could answer, Bingley asked Darcy, “Are you both serious? Darcy, we might be brothers! And you, Fitz! Let us sign the marriage contract at once, Brother! Take her, in all haste!”

“I do not know if she will have me,” Richard said to them both.

“But I intend to find out. I intend to do something, at last, about the affection I have long harbored. And if you are half the man I have ever thought you, Cousin, you will do the same. You are the high and mighty Darcy, who might do as he damn well pleases, to the envy of all. Woo the woman you want, for not everybody has the luxury. I must convince Caroline to take a second son - you have nothing standing in your way but your own stupidity.”

Bingley finished his brandy and retrieved the decanter, refilling all of their glasses. “I shall happily drink to that!”

Darcy brought the drink to his lips slowly, considering his cousin’s abrasive but accurate assessment of his dilemma - it was no true dilemma at all.

He wanted only to ascertain if Elizabeth could return his feelings, and resolved to watch her carefully when next they met.

He would look upon her not with the desperation of a man who could not have her, but the optimistic gaze of a suitor who wished to be sure.

But there was one thing standing in the way of his courtship, even as Darcy gave himself over to this alluring path.

Unfortunately, it was his own sister, a problem that must be dealt with if he stood a chance of getting anything more than fleeting glances from Elizabeth.

And he wanted it all, with everything that he was.

***

Elizabeth was once again consoling her sister after Miss Darcy spoiled any chance of Jane enjoying herself at Netherfield, when Kitty burst into their bedchamber, dragging Lydia with her as she wept. “Kitty! Whatever is the matter?”

“Tell them, Lydia - tell Jane what Miss Darcy told you!” Kitty wailed as she wiped at her tears and sank down on the bed beside Elizabeth.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I told you, Kitty, I would not repeat that vicious snob’s nasty words for all the world! It does not signify anything. She is stupid girl, who is not even permitted out when she is a year older than me.”

“Lydia,” Elizabeth hissed. “Kitty, dearest, please tell us what has upset you so.”

“She… she said….” Kitty looked over at Jane, her face a picture of despair.

Lydia stamped her foot and crossed her arms. “I will tell it, Kitty, you baby, for it was me that she confided in. Miss Darcy told me that her brother warned her about our family - he said that we are ridiculous and preposterous for fawning over the officers. La! She is only jealous that we can go out in society and easily find admirers, while her brother does not allow her the same liberties, and so she must throw herself at Mr. Bingley - which will come to nothing since he is madly in love with our Jane!”

Jane gasped, and Elizabeth felt her entire body go rigid.

She had seen Mr. Darcy scowling at her relations every time they were in company, and despite his apology for insulting her, she had no doubt he held such low opinions of her sisters.

Even so, it was devastating to hear the confirmation of it.

Kitty wailed again. “I think she meant to hint that she will have Mr. Bingley in the end, that Mr. Darcy would not approve of Jane marrying his friend!”

“Do not be a dolt, Kitty,” Lydia snapped. “She is nasty and jealous and not worth vexing Jane about.”

Elizabeth swatted at the girl. “Enough, Lydia. Kitty, do not cry, dearest. Lydia is likely correct that Miss Darcy envies Mr. Bingley’s attentions to Jane; nobody could doubt his attachment to her.

Miss Darcy ought to handle the disappointment more gracefully.

” Though Elizabeth spoke to Kitty, her gaze was focused on Jane, who still looked stricken.

She wondered that her sisters were not offended by Miss Darcy’s words - that their concern, however differently they expressed it, was all for Jane.

They were better creatures than Mr. Darcy could ever know, far superior to his sister, for all her fortune and breeding.

Elizabeth could not bear for Jane’s promising attachment to be soured by such an unchecked and inconsiderate brat.

And Mr. Darcy! He had really seemed to approve of Jane and Mr. Bingley’s relationship in London, and had even hinted that he meant to take his sister in hand.

Clearly he lacked either the ability or the inclination to do so.

She was furious with herself for revising her opinion of him so hastily, and could only repine that she had promised to dance the supper set with him the following evening.

Lydia and Kitty were still squabbling amongst themselves when Elizabeth turned to look at Jane.

“I hope you will remember your promise to me - do not let her intimidate you. Let your courage rise at the ball tomorrow, for it does not signify what anybody but Mr. Bingley thinks - though Caroline’s approval is a formidable advantage. ”

Jane only nodded and declared that she wished to retire for the night, and they were obliged to shoo the younger girls from their room.

In the corridor they encountered Mr. Collins, who burst out of the guest room in his banyan to demand an end to the commotion. “Are there robbers? Are we to be murdered in our beds? What is this noise?”

When the four sisters only gaped at him with varying degrees of horror and hilarity, Mr. Collins seemed to realize that they were all in their bedclothes, and he averted his gaze with a hand to one side of his face.

“Cousins, I… oh dear… but I must insist that you be silent at this late hour, if there is no crisis afoot.”

Mr. Bennet was the next to emerge from his chamber. He looked between his daughters and the red-faced parson, and when he had finished laughing he ordered them all to bed, lest he be forced to marry four of his daughters to the same unfortunate man.

The next morning, the sisters all walked to Meryton; Mr. Collins accompanied Mary, the only one amongst them whose eye he could meet with equanimity.

In the village, the ladies and their cousin called upon their Aunt Phillips, who joined them in perusing shop windows as a flimsy endeavor to be approached by the officers.

When these efforts bore fruit, Elizabeth had the happy distinction of being singled out by a friend of Denny’s who had come to enlist. The handsome soon-to-be lieutenant was not yet in regimentals, but promised to be present at the colonel’s ball that evening, and declared that he would stand up with all the fair sisters.

Mr. Collins hastily threatened to do the same, bristling at the popularity of the dashing newcomer.

When Lydia’s banter about being insulted by the odious Mr. Darcy earned her a rebuke from their cousin, Mr. Wickham seemed to take notice of it, and he drew Elizabeth aside with an air of confidentiality.

“Forgive me if I seem forward, Miss Elizabeth, but I must ask you about a comment your youngest sister made. To speak plainly, if I may - I heard that you and your sisters have some grievance against Mr. Darcy. This cannot be Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, perchance?”

“The very same,” Elizabeth said with curiosity she did not conceal. “Are you acquainted with him?”

“I ought to be. I grew up at Pemberley, and have known Mr. Darcy all my life - long enough to understand how he might disparage a family he considers beneath him, despite their indisputable charms.”

Now she was quite entranced. Elizabeth had thought her first assessment of Mr. Darcy was sound enough, and then she had begun to esteem him well enough to cherish a secret wish - one that he would likely sneer to learn of.

Hope and humiliation warred in her, and she wished for some insight into the gentleman's character. “Are you a relation of his?”

“No more so than being the godson of his father, one of the finest men I have ever known. My own late father was his steward, and the late Mr. Darcy was fond of me since I was a boy. Darcy and I once played together, even went to school together. His father was my generous benefactor. In fact….”

Mr. Wickham looked as if he would say more, but stopped himself. Elizabeth dearly wished for him to elaborate, and hoped she might prompt him to speak candidly. “It seems you were very fortunate.”

At the same moment, Mr. Wickham asked, “How well are you acquainted with Darcy?”

“He accompanied Jane and I as we travelled to London with friends recently.”

“Ah - no doubt you observed him amongst his own circle there?”

Elizabeth was sure that her face must betray her sentiments toward the Fitzwilliam sisters and the odious countess. “As much as I should ever wish to.”

“He may be on his best behavior amongst them, particularly the colonel, who is such a rake himself that Darcy might play the noble hero. I am sorry to hear that he has been unkind to your sisters.”

Elizabeth considered Mr. Darcy’s behavior in London, which now felt entirely contradictory.

He had denounced the behavior of the countess and her daughters, though she now doubted his disapproval of Miss Darcy’s incivility.

But there was some merit in the contrast between him and his cousin the colonel.

Elizabeth had thought of it when she had, as she promised to Jane, pondered their every interaction in search of some sign that he had a partiality for her.

She had recalled half a dozen times when he seemed displeased with his cousin’s attentions to her, yet now she knew not what to make of it all.

Mr. Wickham seemed unaware of her confusion, for he smiled affably at her. “I fear it is something we have in common, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow in arch amusement. “Has he called you unattractive and deemed your sisters ridiculous?”

He gasped theatrically, bringing one hand to his heart. “I never knew him to suffer poor vision - the old devil has gone mad. But alas, I fear my own injury has been more grievous even than the insupportable slander he has cast upon the loveliest ladies in the village.”

“Then I am very sorry for you,” Elizabeth said with a smirk.

“Your delicacy is to be commended, but if you will not ask, I shall entreat you would hear me, for it is a woeful subject that has weighed upon me as I find myself obliged to join the militia - my unhappy circumstances have been all Mr. Darcy’s doing.”

Elizabeth assured him she would hear whatever he wished to confide; she was perfectly ready to console the charming officer who had sought her out.

He gave a gracious bow of his head. “My godfather was fond of me, so much so that he sponsored my education, and desired that I might take orders and be granted a valuable living in his gift. But his friendship was ever the envy of the younger Darcy; I believe he despised me for the esteem his father and I shared. When my benefactor died, Darcy disregarded his father’s wishes entirely and gave the living to another man, determined to see me impoverished.

Thus I find myself here, though I am more than content to be so. ”

Elizabeth gasped. “But how could he do such a thing? Was there no provision?”

“Sadly, the promises often spoken were never fixed in writing; my old friend thought to live many years yet. He trusted his son to treat me with honor; he was too generous to see the spiteful characters of both his children, I fear. Mr. Darcy’s sister is very like him, cold and proud, ever above her company. ”

Elizabeth nodded, her brows furrowing with disgust as she considered Miss Darcy’s mistreatment of Jane. The girl needed a slap and a governess.

“I am very sorry you were so ill-used - though I shall be the last to lament that you have come to Meryton, sir.” Elizabeth smiled warmly at Mr. Wickham.

She had no wish to be equally forthcoming, for it would be no favor to Jane, but Mr. Wickham had affected her sympathies enough that she enjoyed every moment of his company, even when they were obliged to rejoin her relations.

The confusion he had sown amidst her recent reflections on Mr. Darcy tormented her for the rest of the day.

Mr. Wickham was quite correct in his depiction of Miss Darcy; could Mr. Darcy truly be such a villain?

She was to dance with him at the ball, and Elizabeth was determined to have some answers.