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Why this was so, Darcy could not quite say.

The truthful man in him whispered the reason for his interest, and while he tried to deny it, his excuses sounded hollow.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been a bright, shining jewel of a woman in that blighted neighborhood, and Darcy had fought his attraction since making her acquaintance.

To find her trapped in marriage to the odious parson might be more than Darcy could bear, but he was determined to end his suffering at once, expecting to discover her mother had prevailed and she was now forever beyond his reach.

“I hope these ‘acquaintances’ of yours provide a distraction on this visit, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam as they approached the parsonage. “If we must confine our company to Lady Catherine again this year, I shall go quite mad.”

Darcy grunted his agreement, but he said nothing more.

Within moments, they reached the house and entered when a maid opened the door to their knock.

That brief walk along the corridor to the parlor was awful to Darcy’s feelings and seemed to consume a year of his life.

Then the maid opened the door, and Darcy stepped into the room, his cousin trailing behind.

There, in a pair of chairs, rising at their entrance, was the new Mrs. Collins, with the stick-like figure of Mr. Collins hunched over and already bowing by her side.

“Mr. Darcy,” intoned the parson. “Welcome to Hunsford. Words cannot express how fortunate we are to be the recipients of your boundless condescension.”

As Darcy stared into the face of Mrs. Agnes Collins, he found it necessary to mask a sigh of relief at the sight. Mrs. Collins was not Miss Elizabeth. She had not married him.

NOW, OVER FOUR MONTHS after that visit, Darcy still felt the release of the iron bands around his heart upon learning that Miss Elizabeth had not married so far beneath her.

The more time had passed, the more he thought of her to the extent that he was now dreaming of returning to her company.

He was also confused by his feelings. Had she married Mr. Collins, Miss Elizabeth would have forever been beyond his reach, and he could not help but suppose that would have been for the best. However, as pleased as he was by the discovery that she did not do so, the thought that his feelings for her were deeper than infatuation would not leave him.

The question was whether he dared approach her.

To fortune, he could choose indifference, for Pemberley’s coffers were bulging with wealth, such that Darcy could afford to take twenty such penniless wives and have no difficulty in supporting them.

Her lack of connections was also no concern, for Darcy had more connections than he maintained and had no need for further relations to prancing dandies he did not tolerate and with whom he had no wish to associate.

The question, then, was what was holding him back.

Miss Bennet’s quality was sufficient that Darcy expected she would be entirely comfortable in London society and would uphold the position demanded by his wife with distinction.

Even his aunt, the Countess of Matlock, would find it difficult to find fault with her, and Lady Susan was notoriously difficult to please, even more so than his uncle.

The more Darcy considered Miss Elizabeth, the more he felt his esteem for her deepening.

As the question of affection was answered, he could foresee no trouble in her moving among his circle of friends, and he cared not for her situation, there was no reason for his reticence.

Yet his indecision persisted, such that Darcy could not move forward.

Perhaps it was her family, for Mrs. Bennet had been a woman impossible to tolerate, her youngest sisters wild, the master indifferent, and her connections no higher than a man in trade.

Even this should not prevent him, for it was a simple truth that a man married the woman, not the family.

Given the family’s position, they would not wish to be in town much, and though he would never dream of preventing his wife from seeing her family, it should be possible to keep their visits to a minimum.

As for accepting a tradesman as a relation, the notion was silly considering his friendship with Bingley.

Darcy even suspected the man was not objectionable, for he did not suppose Miss Elizabeth suffered fools; whatever had happened to direct Mr. Collins to another made that point without any doubt.

Darcy knew he would overcome his uncertainty, for it was most unlike him to dither.

Perhaps this visit with Miss Bingley would yield some fruit after all, for if nothing else, he would be in proximity with the sort of woman he did not wish to marry—such a contrast could not but help push him in the direction he suspected he wished to go.

As Darcy passed the lodge at Pemberley’s entrance, he exchanged a few words with the man stationed there and then continued his way toward the estate.

For the moment, he pushed his thoughts of Miss Elizabeth to the side in favor of his arrival, knowing that he would have ample time to consider it later.

Though Bingley had guessed part of his purpose for returning alone, he had not dissembled about his wish to meet with his steward.

As he approached, he noticed a carriage on the drive, signifying some visitors touring his home.

Though he was not of a mind to meet anyone and eager for the comforts of his home, further scrutiny revealed a man and a woman walking near the lake with a woman trailing along behind.

Some trick of the light brought a moment of recognition to Darcy’s mind, but he shook it off.

As the tourists noticed his arrival, it would be churlish to go into the house and not greet them.

Thus, Darcy steeled himself for a few moments of small talk and dismounted when he reached the drive.

The man and woman were a handsome couple, the man perhaps forty, the woman about five years younger.

Fashionably dressed, they regarded him with interest but no recognizable pretension, and Darcy suspected they were minor gentry touring an estate during a summer tour of the countryside.

That was not uncommon, for Darcy had often welcomed those of similar circumstances to Pemberley.

As Darcy stepped forward to greet them, he caught sight of the third member of the party, who had turned away from the lake to regard him.

A far more powerful shock of recognition traveled from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, for Darcy recognized her.

It was none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the woman who had featured with such prominence in his thoughts since he was last in her company.

How in the blazes had he chanced to meet her at Pemberley of all places?

AS ELIZABETH TRAVELED ever closer to the lakes, she could not but suppose her father had been correct about his assertion—had Lydia joined them on their tour, Elizabeth could not imagine two days would have passed before she began a litany of complaints.

In this opinion, her aunt and uncle agreed without reservation.

“Despite your sister’s wishes, we would never have invited her,” said Mrs. Gardiner with a laugh when Elizabeth offered this observation. “We might take Mary, for she would enjoy the excursion, but your youngest sisters are unsuited for such amusements.”

“Unless a town we visited hosted a regiment of the militia,” jested Uncle Gardiner. “If we had the poor fortune to come across such a company, I doubt a team of horses would have sufficed to pull her away.”

“I cannot disagree, Uncle. That the regiment is gone from Meryton and will never return is a source of never-ending satisfaction—had they remained much longer, I suspect Lydia would have ruined us all.”

Such thoughts did not plague Elizabeth often, for there was always some fresh sight to see, some wondrous vista to behold.

They progressed to the north in a leisurely fashion, stopping wherever fancy took them.

Blenheim had astounded Elizabeth with its grandeur, for even Netherfield was nothing to compare with it, and the other estates they had toured had provided similar pleasures.

As they traveled north, the landscape grew prettier, the woods more extensive, the land less tamed than in the south.

As a connoisseur of nature, Elizabeth reveled in every new experience, such that she thought she might expire from the pleasure.

Their destination that morning was a source of curiosity, for Elizabeth had known nothing of the proximity of Pemberley to the town Mrs. Gardiner had often called the dearest place in the world.

Even the thought of the estate’s proprietor did not provoke feelings of distaste that they might have six months before, for time had softened Elizabeth’s opinion of the gentleman.

To own the truth, she had not so much as considered Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, or any of the other residents of Netherfield since she departed Longbourn and had not thought of them much before.

“I have no dislike for the scheme,” said Elizabeth when her aunt proposed visiting the estate the day after they arrived in Lambton. “In truth, I might have thought you were eager to remain in Lambton as long as possible to revisit the scenes of your youth.”

Of Mrs. Gardiner’s effusions concerning the town, Elizabeth confessed her aunt’s opinion reflected reality.

Lambton was a charming collection of shops, houses, and a fine church that dominated the place on top of a hill.

After her exposure to the place, Elizabeth could not but confess to her aunt that she would not hesitate to remain in Derbyshire for the rest of her life if the occasion permitted it.