On the carriage ride back to Longbourn, Jane had a smile upon her face the likes of which had not been seen since La Gioconda. The sight of this enigmatic facial expression, apparently directed at herself, finally provoked Elizabeth into asking her sister of what she could be thinking.

"Merely that there is more between you and Mr. Darcy than meets the eye," replied Jane in her usual sweet manner.

"Nonsense, Jane!" Elizabeth sputtered. "Can I not read to a blind man without your imputing some ridiculous romantic involvement?"

"Ridiculous? I think not," replied Jane warmly. "Would it really be so outlandish for you to fall in love with a rich, handsome man? Or he with you?"

"In love?" Elizabeth's incredulity, as well as her colour, was high. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Lizzy, you must admit that meeting him in the hallway yesterday was most peculiar." At this Elizabeth would try to defend herself, but Jane continued, "But more than that, I cannot be blind to the way he looks at you...or rather attends to your every word." She leaned toward her sister. "And if he is not showing symptoms of a deep attachment, well, I do not know what else to call it."

Elizabeth looked away from her in annoyance. "I cannot presume to speak for Mr. Darcy, Jane, but I can speak for myself. And I can assure you, that I have no interest in the man beyond a Christian concern for his well-being." But even as she voiced the thought, she wondered if it was true.

Jane could once again barely contain her smile. "If you say so, Lizzy."

In Netherfield's orangery, Miss Bingley was in high dudgeon. "Why, that sneaky little chit Eliza Bennet!" she exclaimed to Mrs. Hurst, once Mr. Hampton had returned and removed his charge to his chambers for an examination. "The moment my back is turned, trying to ingratiate herself with Mr. Darcy, and after all I have done for her and her sister!"

"She was just reading to him, Caroline," Louisa said lazily, playing with her bracelets as the two circled among the flora. "Perhaps if you had done as much for him..."

"Bah! Do I not wait upon his every need? Do I not read him his dreadfully dull newspapers whenever he asks?"

"Yes, and does he always have to ask? And do you enjoy the exertion, or is it too burdensome for you?" She paused for effect. "Do you think he can tell the difference?"

"You know there is nothing I would not do for Mr. Darcy, Louisa, but I loathe reading! I would much rather play or sing for him. Why does he never ask for that?"

"Well, I would not worry overmuch. After all, Miss Eliza does not live here; you do. She cannot always be here when he is in need of someone, and you can. Further, she has nothing to offer him but her voice, and you can do just as well, if you make the effort. Perhaps that is all you need to do."

"Perhaps." Miss Bingley thought on this for a moment. "And perhaps I should have a conversation with Mr. Hampton, about his intended. Maybe it is time for him to tame the little shrew."

At that very moment, Mr. Hampton was putting a new dressing upon his patient's face. He chatted amiably about his visit to Mr. Jones, but Mr. Darcy remained steadfastly silent except when a question posed to him required an answer. A frown between his eyes belying the cheerful tone of his voice, Mr. Hampton wondered what could be troubling the gentleman, but all inquiries were met with vague, noncommittal responses. If something had gone amiss while he was out, he would find out about it soon enough.

Mr. Darcy was, in fact, in no mood to listen to Mr. Hampton prattle about his day. As much as he liked the man and sincerely appreciated his efforts, Darcy felt his dependence upon his physician had long since reached a point of aggravation. Further, he had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that it was not Mr. Hampton himself, but Mr. Hampton's freedom to do as he pleased, and yes, to court Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which was troubling him most. It was that dream, that dream which had so ruined what little peace remained to him.

When, much to the relief of all, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst returned from shooting, the entire party regained its liveliness, for at last there was something new of which to speak.

"I have decided," said Bingley, "to hold a ball here, very soon. I think it would be a splendid thing."

Caroline raised a brow. "Are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? - I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "then I hope we may find an alternative amusement for him - Darcy, you must let me know how best to manage it - but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards."

"Do not worry about me, Bingley," said Darcy. "I would not wish to be the cause of any disruption. It is important for your position in this society - such as it is - to entertain the neighbourhood."

Miss Bingley sighed. "I speak of myself, Charles. I cannot imagine a worse fate than another evening spent in the company of the provincials who inhabit this backwater." Suddenly she brightened. "I know! I will spend the evening with Mr. Darcy. Will it not be cosy, Mr. Darcy, just the two of us? I could read to you!"

"I would not hear of it, Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy said smoothly, hiding his alarm. "For you must act as hostess for your brother, and truly, there could be no other lady who could entertain with such éclat."

"You see, Caroline, it will be grand, and you must be there!" her brother exclaimed. Turning to Darcy, he added, "I promise you, Darcy, we will not leave you to yourself all evening. Besides, Mr. Hampton will be there for you."

"It was in my mind that he should attend as well, Bingley. Mr. Hampton has worked tirelessly and has not had his share of diversion since he came here. Perhaps as well," Darcy forced himself to add, his voice revealing none of the bitterness he felt, "he will wish to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Mr. Hampton was very surprised, but pleased - for he had not mentioned his courtship to Mr. Darcy, though he supposed the gentleman must have heard it from Mr. Bingley. "Indeed I would, sir," he answered cheerfully; "I thank you very much."

This exchange did much to placate Miss Bingley. Still, upon meeting Mr. Hampton in the hallway later, she found it prudent to draw him aside.

"Sir, my brother has told me that you are courting Miss Eliza Bennet. When am I to wish you joy?"

Mr. Hampton chuckled. "I am afraid we have not yet come to an understanding, Miss Bingley. It is my hope to gain her acceptance and her father's permission ere the winter begins, for I have many plans, and I would begin on them by spring."

"Really? Plans? How very fascinating! Might one enquire as to the nature of these plans, or are they to be kept a secret?"

"I cannot reveal them to you just yet, Miss Bingley, for I have not yet even spoken of them to Miss Elizabeth."

"Oh, very well, if you insist upon being mysterious! But I must tell you, Mr. Hampton, as one who has grown fond of you and is concerned for your happiness, that I have my suspicions regarding the constancy of your lady's affections."

"Why do you say that?"

"While you were calling upon Mr. Jones today, Miss Eliza visited Netherfield, with the sole purpose of having a private tête-à-tête with Mr. Darcy."

"That would be highly improper, if true." He frowned. "Did she come alone?"

"No, she came with Miss Jane Bennet. But she had not spent two minutes altogether in the morning room with us when she ran off to the library to 'wish Mr. Darcy good morning,' as she said. When we followed ten minutes later, they were seated close together, she was reading to him from a volume of poetry, and her colour was high."

"Well, Miss Bingley, I thank you for this intelligence. I cannot say that it disturbs me much, however, as I already know Miss Elizabeth to be a compassionate soul, and Mr. Darcy is hungry for such novelty as a talented reader may provide. I do appreciate your looking out for my interests, however."

Caroline smiled for all she was worth. "It is truly my pleasure, Mr. Hampton." And with a curtsey, she continued on her way.

It was with mixed feelings that Mr. Hampton watched Miss Bingley depart. He already knew her to have no great love for the Bennet family, and he wondered at both the truthfulness of her revelation and her motives for expressing it. At the same time, however, the confidence which he had earlier felt when Mr. Darcy encouraged him to attend the ball to dance with his intended faded away, leaving him uneasy and keen to press his suit more aggressively. He was suddenly grateful that Mr. Darcy could not himself attend the ball.

Mr. Darcy, it should be said, did not share those feelings, for as much as he disliked dancing in general, he would have given a small fortune to be able to stand up with Miss Elizabeth. He was at the time, however, experiencing a similar level of anxiety, though not for the same reason. For he had just been in the same hallway moments before, practicing moving from room to room on his own, and he had overheard the whole of the conversation. And now he was left to ponder how sincere were Mr. Hampton's assurances to Miss Bingley; what sort of plans the man had for Miss Elizabeth which he had not yet broached to her; and how a jealous physician might affect his patient's recovery. Colonel Fitzwilliam could not come soon enough to suit him.

And come Colonel Fitzwilliam did, the very next day. He was about thirty, not as tall as his cousin, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Had he not been a second son, Miss Bingley would certainly have set her cap at him. His surprise upon seeing Darcy's state was great, for the letter Mr. Hampton had penned had only hinted at an injury, but although he was concerned, the Colonel had seen much worse on the battlefield and therefore refused to lose heart. The two settled into Mr. Bingley's study for a private conversation.

"So tell me honestly, Darcy, how do you fare? Great Heavens, this impairment must be devastating."

"Indeed, Fitzwilliam, it is: like a nightmare from which I never awake, morning after morning. But I have learned to make the best of it, at least for now, because I have no other choice."

"And is there no hope? What thinks Mr. Hampton?"

"He says the wounds themselves are healing well, but he refuses to speculate about my eyesight, which of course is my greater concern. I never lost the ability to tell light from dark, but we have not yet determined whether I will ever regain full sight in either eye."

"Blast. I am that sorry, Darcy, truly I am. And yet for all that you seem to be coping well. How have you managed to not go completely mad while in such a condition? No gaming, no shooting? And I could live without reading, but you! Really, I think they would have me in Bedlam after a week!"

Darcy sighed. "It has not been easy, my friend. The worst part, I think, is having to rely so much upon others, so much so that one begins to feel like an infant. The other problem is, of course, that I do not wish to be out in society like this," he added, gesturing to his face, "and the monotony has caused me to reach the limits of my tolerance for even my very dearest friend, not to mention his relations."

"Why, do you not find amusement among the Netherfield party?" the Colonel laughed. "Miss Bingley appears the epitome of a fashionable hostess of the Ton: handsome, well-dressed, elegant. Does such a lady not appeal to you?"

"Spend a little more time in her company, Fitzwilliam, and see how cheerful you remain."

"My apologies, cousin. So the Bingleys, the Hursts, the apothecary and Mr. Hampton are the only ones who are aware of your presence at Netherfield? How ever did you manage that?"

"Some generous payments keep the servants silent. And whenever the Bingleys entertain, I simply remain out of sight. There are, however, two more people who know I am in residence, two young ladies."

"Young ladies! Do tell, cousin, I am all ears!"

Darcy snorted. "Do not get yourself excited, Fitzwilliam. These ladies are daughters of somewhat impoverished local gentry, and have no fortune for you to marry into. The elder paid a call on Miss Bingley and took ill while she was visiting. She stayed for several days, and her sister came to take care of her. I revealed my presence to them, and they have been very circumspect, telling no one of my existence."

"Young ladies who are circumspect? My, a rare thing, indeed! Are they pretty?"

Had Darcy the capacity to, he would have glared at his cousin. "What makes you think I would know this?"

"Come now, Darcy, blind or not, even a stick-in-the-mud like you would be curious. Surely must have asked about them. So, are they pretty?"

Knowing he was bested, Darcy sighed again. "Apparently. Bingley fancies himself in love with the elder, Miss Jane Bennet. Says she is 'an angel.' As for the younger, Miss Elizabeth Bennet," and here he cleared his throat, "Mr. Hampton tells me she is, ah, very handsome." He would not say more, for to do so would force him to reveal that he found her beautiful beyond measure, although he had never seen her face.

"I see. And when do I meet the fascinating Misses Bennet?"

"I suppose you could go along with Bingley when next he calls upon the family, but I must caution you: though the elder two sisters are charming and all that is decent, the three remaining sisters and their mother display an uncommon level of impropriety. Even the father is somewhat lacking in decorum."

"My word!"

"And therein lies the problem. As I said, Bingley believes himself in love with Miss Bennet. But she comes with no dowry to speak of, and the family connections are abominably low: an attorney in the town of Meryton and an uncle in trade in London. Near Cheapside. Add to that the indecorousness of her relations - in particular, the mother makes no pretence that she is on constant watch for an advantageous match for her daughters - and, well, I am very nearly prepared to advise Charles in the strongest possible terms against the match. But..."

"But?"

"But if Bingley is truly attached, and if the lady truly loves him, then I cannot in all good conscience separate them. Unfortunately, I am in no position to judge whether Miss Bennet is simply following her mother's lead in attempting to secure a wealthy husband. And so I have a request to make of you."

"You wish me to observe the behaviour of the couple to ascertain their feelings for one another."

"Precisely."

"This is most irregular. You must be very concerned for your friend."

"Bingley is a capital fellow but he has a tendency toward naïveté. I do not wish him to be the object of a fortune hunter...or, for that matter, to have his heart broken."

"Very well. It is not my preferred role, I warrant, but you know I am bound to help you in any way I can."

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam."

There was a brief pause, then the Colonel spoke again: "And what of Rosings? Does Lady Catherine know of your injury?"

"It was my great fortune to have written to her shortly before the accident, and so as to correspondence, she is currently in my debt." He grimaced. "I hesitate to inform her of my infirmity, as I have no doubt she will attempt to use the intelligence to take complete control of my life."

"Well, at least she might not continue to insist that you marry Anne."

"Do not be so sure of that, cousin," Darcy said with dark humour, "for she will surely see advantages to having a blind son-in-law."

Released from the necessity of seeing after Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hampton had leave to attend to his own business, and he set about some long-neglected correspondence. The first letter he wrote was to his colleague in London, enquiring after his various patients there. The second read thus:

Dear John,

I was, of course, delighted to receive your last letter and to know that you are in excellent health. I hope in your next communication you may send some drawings of the new buildings you have been working on. What you tell me of your activities continues to fascinate me, and I am yearning to see you again. It has been too long!

A great deal has transpired since last I wrote you. For more than a fortnight, I have been living in Hertfordshire, tending to a gentleman - I will call him Mr. D. - who, due to an unfortunate shooting accident, requires a personal physician. He has been blinded - whether temporarily or not I still do not know - and has need of almost constant assistance. Mr. D. is a very wealthy man, and I am being compensated extraordinarily well. As you can imagine, John, this windfall has been of considerable benefit to my savings for the future.

More important, as a consequence of my residence here, I have met the most delightful lady. Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I have recently made a formal request to court her. I believe she was much surprised by my appeal, but agreed to accept my wooing, though she was reluctant to promise anything further. Nevertheless, I pray that she will eventually accept my suit, for she is everything I could wish for in a partner: witty, beautiful, well-read, intelligent, warmhearted, and I hasten to add, quite robust. I have no doubt that she could well withstand the rigours of our new life.

Perhaps ere long I will be able to tell you that your new step-mother and I will be joining you to conquer the frontier of Nova Scotia.

Your affectionate father,

Matthew Hampton

The day after his arrival, the Colonel accompanied Mr. Bingley to Longbourn. The presence of a new gentleman at Netherfield caused quite a stir among the youngest in the family.

"A Colonel!" exclaimed Kitty to her sister whilst Fitzwilliam was being introduced to their father. "Why, that is better than a lieutenant, is it not, Lydia?" she teased. "He is higher in rank than our friend Mr. ..."

"Fie!" interrupted Lydia with a scowl. "Higher in rank, perhaps, Kitty, but not nearly so handsome." For Mr. Wickham was now quite Lydia's favourite among the officers, and she would brook no criticism of him.

The Colonel was greatly amused by the entertainment offered in the form of five unmarried young ladies and a mature couple of uncertain propriety. But he was particularly interested in meeting the eldest daughters, and he found them to be just as described by his cousin. Miss Bennet was the fairest lady he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, with an ethereal loveliness that would stand out even among the finest of the Ton. If Bingley described her as "an angel," it was not too far from the truth. Her sister Elizabeth, while having not nearly the beauty of Miss Bennet, was pretty as well, but it was her lively eyes and ready smile which made her irresistibly attractive. Moreover, her frame, though on a smaller scale than her sister's, held the kind of curves that he found most appealing. A shame they had no fortune, a real shame. For Fitzwilliam knew he must marry money, and he was too much the gentleman to dally where he was unable to commit.

But at the moment he was also clearly in his element, for he was a practiced conversationalist and knew how best to put his partners at ease. Mrs. Bennet was so completely and utterly charmed, that she insisted that he join them for dinner at his earliest convenience, to which he readily agreed.

Nor did he forget his promise to his cousin. Though the visit lasted but half-an-hour, Fitzwilliam was content that he had at least made a start upon his observations of the young couple, and would report such to Darcy as soon as may be.

After the Colonel and Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield, the two gentlemen retired to play billiards. Mr. Darcy was desirous of hearing them speak of the Bennets, so he joined them in the billiard room and gave Mr. Hampton leave to pay his own call at Longbourn.

Once at the Bennets' residence, Mr. Hampton hastened to the side of his chosen lady. Mrs. Bennet was in such high glee, having had so many gentleman callers of late, one would have thought they were calling upon her. In this jolly mood, she was pleased to allow the physician the unseemly right to sit alone behind closed doors with her daughter, in the hopes that he might at this time make his proposal.

Elizabeth, though always pleased to see Mr. Hampton, insisted to her mother that they need not be afforded that sort of privacy, for she knew what was on Mrs. Bennet's mind, but the woman pretended not to hear. So the couple sat together uneasily in the parlour, drinking their tea.

"I hope I find you well, my dear," began Mr. Hampton.

"Yes, of course," said Elizabeth, flinching imperceptibly at the endearment. "And you?"

"Very well, I thank you." There was a pause. Clearly the man had something on his mind.

"I understand that you called at Netherfield the other morning," said he. "I am sorry I missed you."

"Miss Bingley told me that you were gone out."

"Yes, I was visiting with Mr. Jones. He had told me that he was in possession of a specialized book on eye injuries, but he was quite unable to find it at the moment."

"Do you think you might be able to restore Mr. Darcy's sight?" Elizabeth asked, perhaps too energetically.

Mr. Hampton frowned. "You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns."

First Jane, now him! Elizabeth looked at the physician with irritation. "Should I not?"

"Miss Bingley said that you spent the morning reading to him. She suggested," he bit his lip, not entirely sure he wished to present such an accusation, "that there might be some attachment growing between the two of you."

"Is it not our Christian duty to comfort the infirm, Mr. Hampton?" Elizabeth replied coldly. "And if Mr. Darcy is to pass the rest of his life without his eyes, is it so very dreadful that I provide him with a few minutes of amusement? Is the performance of an unselfish act such a rarity that I am to be censured for it?" She rose to her feet. "Must everyone suspect my motives?"

Fearful that he had pressed Elizabeth too far, Mr. Hampton now sought to mollify her. "No, of course not, my dear. But I do not think that it is so entirely proper for you to be thus engaged with him. If you wish to be of service reading to him, perhaps it would be better to do so while others are present."

Regaining her composure, Elizabeth sat down. She wondered how this mistaken impression of warm regard for Mr. Darcy should have come upon so many of her acquaintance.

"Let us speak no more of Mr. Darcy," Mr. Hampton said, for that was truly what he wished. He had, in fact, hoped to find her blushing and contrite, and, had he seen an opening, he might have taken this rare opportunity, with their privacy so complete, to advance his suit. But alas, in her current ruffled state, this seemed an inappropriate time to propose, or even to ask if she had given further thought to their relationship. So instead, reluctantly, he continued the discussion they had started previously, on Paradise Lost.

For her part, Elizabeth understood that she had narrowly averted a crisis, for she suspected that Mr. Hampton had indeed meant to say something of marriage today. She felt unequal to the task of deciding upon the matter at the moment, for thoughts of Mr. Wickham's good looks still dazzled her, and she knew not if she could resign her single status while she was yet uncertain that she could grow to love a man lacking in youth and physical beauty.

Unwittingly, she also thought of Mr. Darcy. Had not Miss Bingley said he was a very fine-looking man, and had not Jane just referred to him as handsome as well, though she had never even seen him without his bandages? Well, would he be, once those dressings were removed? Or would he be left scarred and blind? Elizabeth grew pensive. The time she had spent in his presence lately had improved her opinion of the gentleman. Could she be the sort of woman who, cognizant of a man's inner worth, could nobly overlook his physical deformities, or would she be unable to see past his surface flaws? Without realizing she was doing so, Elizabeth pondered this only as it applied to Mr. Darcy, giving little reflection to how the answer might also affect her perception of the well-matured Mr. Hampton.

Sensing that her mind was no longer on Milton, the physician ventured,

"I understand there will be a ball held at Netherfield in a few days, Miss Elizabeth."

"Yes, we received our invitation today."

"Then, may I be so bold as to request to dance the first two with you?"

"Of course, it would be my pleasure," Elizabeth readily agreed, not, she admitted to herself, because she was so very anxious to dance with Mr. Hampton, but because she was loath to give up the opportunity to dance with others. She wondered if Mr. Wickham would be in attendance, and she coloured prettily. Mr. Hampton could have no idea that her blush was not for him.

Not long after the physician had departed Netherfield, a servant announced the arrival of Mr. Jones. Mr. Darcy requested that the apothecary be shown into the parlour, and he joined the man there a moment later, for he was now walking quite well on his own below stairs.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Jones said with a bow, "I came to call upon Mr. Hampton, for I located the book on eye surgery he wished to read, but I find him not at home."

"Yes, he is gone to visit the Bennets. Eye surgery, eh? That sounds encouraging, indeed! If you like, you may leave the book on a table there, and I will make certain he receives it. But I am happy that you are come, Mr. Jones, for it gives me the opportunity to thank you again for your swift actions when I was first injured, and to express my gratitude for not only the excellent salves, but for your discretion in not revealing my presence to the neighbourhood."

"I am glad to be of service, and to now see first-hand that the poultices and unguents have done their remarkable work. But for this I cannot take all the credit, Mr. Darcy, for Mr. Hampton is a most excellent physician, and my concoctions would not have been as effective in the hands of a less skilled practitioner of the healing arts."

"I must agree that Mr. Hampton's care has been exemplary."

"Indeed, London will suffer the loss of a great physician when he carries off his new bride to Nova Scotia."

Darcy became very still. "Nova Scotia?"

"Oh, yes. For that is where his son, John, now resides. A fine young man of two-and-twenty, who, I believe, is working there as an architect. Mr. Hampton is prodigiously proud of him, and is anxious to begin a new life there." The apothecary shook his head. "To tell you the truth, while I envy him the adventure, I could never leave England behind, especially at my age. I hear the winters are dreadful cold in Halifax; it takes a strong constitution to survive in such conditions. When he marries, which he hints to me may be soon, I hope that his bride will be a young lady of substantial vigour."

With a bow and his best wishes for the patient's continued recovery, Mr. Jones then took his leave of Mr. Darcy, leaving the latter to pace agitatedly in the parlour.

Nova Scotia, of all the dreadful places! Darcy exclaimed to himself with contempt. And this is the plan Mr. Hampton has so far failed to mention to his intended! When does he think to tell her about it? When their trunks are packed for their honeymoon? "Forget the Continent and the Grand Tour, my dear, for we are for Nova Scotia. Think not of Paris, Athens, or Lisbon, my love, you must content yourself with Halifax. Do not bother with your fine ball gowns and slippers, my sweet Elizabeth, for you will have no need for them now; I will provide you pelts and fur boots such as the savages wear."

In his anger on her behalf, Darcy next wondered what would then be the response of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, so devoted to her family, peculiarities and all, to the news that she was fated to live across an ocean from them, perhaps never to return. To live out her life half a world away from all that she had ever known and loved! And - the next indignity presented itself - to become mother to a son full grown, perhaps even older than herself! Why, it was simply unnatural!

But surely she would not agree to marry the man under those circumstances. Yes, perhaps all this will be too much for her, and she will refuse him after all. An appealing conjecture. But what if Mr. Hampton did not in fact tell her until the engagement was announced - or heaven forbid, after they were already married - and it was too late? No, no! Mr. Hampton was an ethical man, and would not do such a thing. With that thought to comfort him, Darcy endeavoured to regain his senses before returning to the billiard room, but he could not, for another idea literally stopped him in his tracks, and he ceased to pace the room.

What if Miss Bennet wanted to go? What if she saw this as her only opportunity to marry well? He was forced to confront the notion. Her future would be determined by her ability to marry a man of some means, and there were no prospects for her in the neighbourhood. Where else would she find such a man, unless he came from outside the vicinity? For her family did not pass much time in Town, and indeed he did not expect that she was to enjoy a season there.

Well, what then, Darcy? came his inner voice, predictably. She has her own life to live, and you have yours, and you must live them in the separate spheres to which you have been born. But even as he quarreled with himself - and how frequently it seemed that he was engaged in this particular internal debate lately! - he now knew his case to be weak. All that stood between him and pursuing Miss Elizabeth Bennet was his own pride - his sense of being above her, of his family name being of greater worth. After all, he had the means to marry where he would, and further, no parents to object to such an inequitable match. And did he not love...

Disturbed beyond expression, Darcy quitted the parlour, hastening to return to the billiard room. The admission he was about to make to himself threw him into a confusion of spirits that was heretofore unknown to him. He could not love her, it was impossible! Fearing the consequences of such an avowal, Darcy called up the arguments that he had made to himself countless times before: he barely knew her, had never seen her face! She was poor, her connections laughable, her family outrageous!

But this time, none of the usual objections - nothing of what he knew to be true - would serve. He loved her, and he was immediately choked with the emotion of it. The thought of her marrying Mr. Hampton was no longer an unpleasant abstraction; it was now a source of impending heartbreak. Yet, what could he do? Mr. Hampton's declared intention was to marry Elizabeth. While Darcy was no longer completely dependent upon the man, would it be wise to cause resentment in his physician when he could be all that was standing between Darcy and a life of blindness and isolation? And how could Darcy hope to prevent the match when he could not even communicate with the lady?

Suddenly Darcy realized that he had no idea where he was. In his haste to leave the parlour, he had neglected to count the steps and turns to the billiard room. Whirling around in the hallway, completely lost, he collided with a table and nearly lost his footing. He now felt utterly helpless, and in this vulnerable state, for the first time in weeks he apprehended all the gravity of his situation. The possibility that he would never see again, the prospect that he would need assistance all his life, the idea that he would be left disfigured by his wounds and unappealing to a future mate (oh, dear Lord, to Elizabeth!) - thoughts that he had denied over and over again in an attempt to survive each day - came rushing to the fore. Leaning against the wall, head in hands, he clawed at the gauze that bound his eyes, longing to tear it away, but knowing it would avail him naught. Had he been a lesser man, he might have howled with frustration, or wept like a woman. Instead, he swore quietly to himself and, resisting the urge to call his cousin for help, calmed his breathing and attuned his hearing. After some moments, he could hear the click of the balls and the sound of masculine laughter. Congratulating himself on this small accomplishment, he headed in the direction of the noise.

"Ah, there you are, Darcy!" remarked the Colonel jovially upon his cousin's arrival. "Come now, how long can one possibly speak to an apothecary? We were quite ready to organize a search party, were we not, Bingley?" He did not know how close his barb had come to the truth.

"Fitzwilliam," Darcy said wearily, "may I request your assistance in bringing me to my rooms? I find myself unusually tired, and would rest."

"Of course, old man," the Colonel said with concern, for he could see that Darcy's cheeks were flushed, sweat dotting the parts of his face not concealed by his dressings. "Darcy, are you unwell?"

"No, no, I am well, thank you, just tired." This was not untrue, for the turmoil in his mind had exhausted him, and he longed to be in the comfort of his own quarters, away from prying eyes. Excusing himself to Mr. Bingley, Darcy allowed himself to be led upstairs.

Once in his cousin's chambers, Colonel Fitzwilliam said,

"Darcy, what is troubling you? Truly, you look most unwell. Shall I have Mr. Hampton summoned from Longbourn?"

As much as Darcy would have liked to have been able to withdraw Mr. Hampton from Elizabeth's presence, he shook his head. "No, that will not be necessary."

"Then will you not confide in me? Has something happened?"

Darcy briefly considered unburdening himself completely to his cousin, but of his love and worry for Elizabeth he could not, would not speak. Instead, he simply said, "I finally find myself overwhelmed by the thought that perhaps all will not be well with me, Fitz. I do not wish to become a burden to the family should I remain in my current state permanently. What will become of Georgiana? Of Pemberley? It is all too daunting."

This was what the Colonel had most feared when he had first seen the extent of Darcy's injuries, for he had no words of comfort to give. "Let us not speak of such things yet, Darcy. We have not yet exhausted all possibilities, and I will do everything in my power to help you. Do you wish to return to Town, to seek out another physician, or to go to Pemberley? Would you not be more comfortable there?"

To return to Pemberley: the thought surely was tempting, and Darcy was certain that there could be no longer be constraints upon his traveling. But he would not leave without another opportunity to be in Elizabeth's company again, to ascertain if she might in some way share his affections. Surely she would be at the ball to be held at Netherfield in a matter of days, and perhaps he could contrive to meet with her then. "I will consider it, cousin. Ask me again after Bingley's ball."

Among those of our acquaintance in Hertfordshire, the next two days found almost all - save Jane and Mr. Bingley, whose tender feelings for each other made them blissfully unaware of the drama around them - filled with a sense of disappointment, disquiet or dread.

Mrs. Bennet's displeasure with her second eldest daughter was palpable. She was certain that the child had done something to displease her suitor, as a marriage proposal had not been immediately forthcoming, despite the matron's best efforts. Once she discovered that Elizabeth had agreed to dance the first two with Mr. Hampton at the upcoming Netherfield Ball, however, Mrs. Bennet resolved that the evening would see her recalcitrant daughter looking her best, and meekly accepting of any opportunity availed upon the gentleman to plight his troth.

Said daughter, meanwhile, could barely sleep or eat for confusion. On both days, Mr. Hampton called upon the family at Longbourn, freed from many of his responsibilities toward his patient now that Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived, but Elizabeth shrewdly arranged for her sisters to be close about her at all times, precluding the sort of privacy that might encourage her suitor to make a proposal. On the second day, Mr. Wickham called upon the family at the same time - much to the dismay of Mrs. Bennet, who feared, with some justification, that the young man's presence might somehow put the doctor off his courtship of her daughter - and Elizabeth had the enlightening experience of seeing both men together. While Mr. Hampton's looks could in no way compare with those of the lieutenant, the physician's refined behaviour did put to shame the antics of Mr. Wickham as he amused her sister Lydia, sometimes employing the older gentleman as an unknowing object of their jests. Ultimately, however, Elizabeth was left feeling cross, wondering if she had turned into such an old woman that silly banter was now considered beneath her, and she could not feign indifference when Mr. Wickham's remarkable sea-blue eyes chanced to meet hers.

Somewhat unwillingly, though, Elizabeth also found herself giving far too much thought to Mr. Darcy. While it rankled her that she was allowing a man who had no claim upon her to dictate her behaviour, she had not seen Mr. Darcy since Mr. Hampton's rebuke. But it was more than that. Even when in the company of the two other gentleman, she could not help but think that his mind was superior to that of Mr. Wickham, and his person more attractive than that of Mr. Hampton, though she had seen not as much as she would like of his visage. She knew not what to do with these particular observations, for she was not insensible to the inequality of their positions in society and had been told by Miss Bingley in no uncertain terms that maintaining the distinction of rank was of great importance to Mr. Darcy. Certainly, Elizabeth could harbour no hopes from that quarter, nor should she. Nevertheless, she found herself quite unable to cease thinking about him, and she pondered what he might be doing during the ball, if he might in his loneliness resort once again to lurking in the servants' hallway.

Mr. Wickham was not entirely pleased with his most recent visit to Longbourn, though, in his own fashion, he made the best of it. He had finally seen Miss Elizabeth's suitor and - though he had heard of it before from Miss Lydia - was astonished at the man's advanced age. Not being a fellow of very deep thought, Wickham could not fathom the young lady's interest in the doctor; why, the old codger was not even a gentleman with a fortune! Unable to flirt with her himself, he teased Elizabeth with his attentions to her sister and allowed her only one brief moment to bask in his notice. Of one thing he now felt secure: surely when he approached her to dance with him at the Netherfield ball, she would be very receptive to his advances. He might, he guessed, even get more from her than just a dance, and thus spent the balance of the day in pleasant preoccupation with what liberties a woman hungry for attention from a handsome young man might permit him.

Whether calling upon his intended or seeing to his patient, Mr. Hampton was frustrated. Miss Elizabeth, while not exactly cold, did not display that warmth of demeanour that he had come to expect from her. Perhaps, he reasoned to himself, the reality of marrying and leaving her family had begun to weigh upon her. On these grounds he resisted introducing to her the plans he had made; there would be time enough for that once she became accustomed to the idea of their marriage. In addition, the novelty of being in the country had worn off, and he was becoming bored. Unaccustomed as he was to inactivity, and the relatively humble size of the neighbourhood, he bristled when he found himself with little to occupy his days, for now that the Colonel had arrived, Mr. Darcy would only permit the doctor to examine his progress and change his dressings, declining any other assistance. Without the guidance from the book promised by Mr. Jones, there was nothing more Mr. Hampton reckoned he could do for the patient anyway.

While Mr. Darcy's decreased dependence upon his physician should ordinarily be construed as a promising development in the healing process, Mr. Hampton also detected an emotional withdrawal by his patient that he found troubling. There was a detachment that he had not experienced before, and no amount of pleasant conversation would shake Mr. Darcy from his unapproachable behaviour. Observing that Mr. Darcy held himself more aloof from his friends as well, Mr. Hampton did not take it as a personal affront. Still, this comportment troubled him; he wondered if the gentleman were suffering from melancholia - no doubt due to fears for his future - and if so, what if anything could be done about it.

Miss Bingley fared little better. While she made the arrangements for the ball as any good hostess would, she saw nothing to look forward to in such a gathering of provincials as was expected to be held at Netherfield. Even her pleasure at the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam, a charming gentleman, had diminished, for he seemed preoccupied and was frequently closeted alone with Mr. Darcy. That gentleman was no source of enjoyment, either, as he now spoke very little, indeed, less than usual, and she wondered uneasily if perhaps his injuries had somehow begun to afflict his mind.

A courageous man in battle, Colonel Fitzwilliam was uncharacteristically troubled. He found himself fearful of his cousin's quiet despondency, for it was unlike anything he had seen come upon the man before, even during that frightful episode with Georgiana the summer past. Although frequently taciturn while out in society, Darcy was usually quite a different person entirely in the company of his family and friends. Now, however, his cousin found him uncommunicative and brooding. Further, the Colonel had discovered a volume in the library containing some rather unpleasantly graphic illustrations of experimental ocular surgery as performed on horses. The book was clearly meant for Mr. Hampton, but the Colonel took it himself and secreted it in his chambers, unsure that he wished Darcy to be subjected to the sort of procedures depicted. Before giving the book to its intended recipient, Fitzwilliam intended that his cousin knew of its contents.

Darcy knew nothing of the vexations of the others, or his role in many of them, so involved was he with his own troubles. Complaining being alien to him, he retreated into silence. His mind was full of images: of Georgiana, Pemberley, the woods of Derbyshire; of the theater and books and art - of the things he most loved and might never see again; and of Elizabeth, a cobbled-together portrait that may or may not be like the original. He had never in his life been so close to despair. He was abundantly grateful for the distraction provided by Colonel Fitzwilliam, and yet while he knew he was behaving badly around his friends, he could not bring himself to force a cheerfulness he did not feel. Fitzwilliam's description of Mr. Jones's book did nothing to allay his disquiet, and the two agreed it was not a volume they wished to turn over to the physician right away, lest it influence him unduly and create a zealous desire in him to attempt to recreate what he saw therein.

The one piece of good news, as the Colonel viewed it, was that in his visit to Longbourn he had seen a genuine affection blossoming between Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet. "In fact," Fitzwilliam said with a smile Darcy could hear, "the divine Miss Bennet paid me no attention whatsoever, despite my best and most charming efforts to engage her, but seemed wholly involved in her communication with your friend, with a look of sincere affection on her face. I would say, Darcy, that there is equal sentiment on both sides, and that Bingley is a lucky man. If you make an effort to separate them, you are not only no friend, but also a fool."

Would that I had been so fortunate, to know whether my affections were returned! Darcy thought with gloom. But he had never gazed upon his own beloved's countenance, could have no idea with what expression she looked upon him. Was it with fondness? With good humour? With pity? No, not that; he could not bear it! She had not been to visit him since those precious moments she had spent reading to him, only a few days previous. He wished he could spend more time in her company, desperately wanted to ask Fitzwilliam to arrange a meeting during the upcoming ball, but could think of no excuse that would not be entirely improper. In fact, Darcy looked upon the ball with nothing but apprehension, resigning himself to another lonely evening while the rest of the neighbourhood disported themselves, and other men danced with the woman he loved. In response to his cousin's remark, then, Darcy simply nodded, his down-turned mouth briefly betraying a small degree of the consternation he now felt.

The Colonel noted that, instead of being a welcome bit of intelligence, his report seemed to disconcert Darcy. He could not make it out, and for a few moments there was silence between the two.

"Will you attend the ball, Fitz?" Darcy finally asked.

"I had thought to pass the evening with you."

"Nonsense. There is no reason why both of us should to sit out the festivities. You are of a more sociable bent than I, and should enjoy the merriment. Do you not wish to dance with pretty girls?"

He chuckled. "I always do, Darcy."

"Then you will wish to attend. I shall call a servant if I need one, and you can visit with me every now and again if you care to." Casually, he added, "Certainly you must at least stand up with the Misses Bennet." He did not know why he said it; perhaps he imagined that having his cousin dance with Elizabeth would remove her for at least two dances from the general circulation, and the touch of other men.

"If you say I must, then I am at your service." A thought occurred to the Colonel, and he watched Darcy carefully as he said, "Do you wish perhaps to send your regards to the Bennet sisters?"

Darcy smiled slightly. "That would be very kind of you."

"Think nothing of it." Ah, it all fit - or so Colonel Fitzwilliam thought: Darcy's interest in Bingley's affairs, his request that the Colonel ascertain the lady's feelings, the slight change in his demeanour as this last question had been asked and answered. It was now in his mind that perhaps a measure of Darcy's despondency had its roots in love, or at the very least, jealousy. Without doubt Darcy spoke of the Bennet family with greater frequency than was warranted. And having met Miss Jane Bennet, Fitzwilliam could see how a man could quickly grow attached to one so very lovely, though since his cousin had never seen her fair face, one might wonder how her sublime beauty could have affected him in such a way.

But the Colonel's dinner at Longbourn the evening after first making the Bennets' acquaintance had provided him some insight. Conversing mainly with the two eldest sisters (finding the mother and the youngest girls very silly and therefore barely tolerable, and the father to be rather uncommunicative), Fitzwilliam determined Jane Bennet to be all that was good and sweet in a young lady, her behaviour and conversation demure and above reproach. While he vastly preferred the company (and the figure) of Miss Elizabeth, whose lively and satirical eye kept him laughing heartily, he knew his cousin to be of a temperament less suited to such jocularity, and further, his disposition to be of a more sensitive nature that could not comfortably render him an object of open pleasantry, and the Colonel could therefore readily see how Jane Bennet could become the target of Darcy's affections.

Nevertheless, with his friend Bingley so enamoured of the young lady, and her family considered so objectionable, the Colonel could also see how Darcy could be torn in twain.

"And what will you do during the ball?" Fitzwilliam enquired of Darcy after a few moments.

Darcy shrugged. "You know how little I enjoy such affairs even under the best circumstances. Perhaps I will linger downstairs to listen to the music, or perhaps I will just go to bed. I do not really know, but it does not signify." The brief smile that had graced his face moments before was gone, and his mood once again was black. "Each day is exactly like the one before, Fitz."

So that is how it lies, eh? The Colonel vowed somehow to arrange a discreet meeting between his cousin and Miss Bennet during the ball, if that would in any way soften the man's hardships and bring him some measure of comfort. While he would never wish to disrupt a blooming relationship between Miss Bennet and Bingley, his loyalty to Darcy was complete, and if seeing his cousin happy meant separating the young couple, then - despite his declaration to Darcy earlier - he would not scruple to do so.

The night of the ball having finally arrived, all of the ladies at Longbourn (excepting, of course, Mary, who cared about the ball only as a means by which to demonstrate her accomplishments) were in a high flutter. Elizabeth dressed with more than usual care, in an exceptionally flattering gown of ivory with small silk flowers woven through her hair. Mrs. Bennet was satisfied that her daughter looked well enough to draw a proposal from Mr. Hampton, but that was hardly in Elizabeth's mind. Although she rarely felt equal to her sister Jane in appearance, on this night at least she felt almost as beautiful, hoping that she might spend some time in Mr. Wickham's company to ascertain her feelings about that gentleman, and to determine whether she was prepared to forego the sort of passion promised by his youthful good looks for the security of a well-established, though older, husband.

Mr. Wickham, for his part, prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of Elizabeth's heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. Seeing her across the room at Netherfield, he gave her a smile calculated to melt the very snows of the Arctic. He could tell that it had the desired effect, and when he finally approached her, saying, "Miss Elizabeth, you are looking remarkably well tonight," he was rewarded with a blush and a murmured "Thank you" that bespoke the most intense emotion.

"May I ask for the pleasure of your hand for the first two?"

"Alas, Mr. Wickham," Elizabeth sighed with real regret, "I am already committed for those."

"Well, then, perhaps the next two?"

"I thank you, yes." Having thus secured her attentions for a good half-hour, Wickham smiled and bowed, and went of in search of other game - that is to say, another young lady with whom to occupy himself for the first two dances. He was pleased to bestow this honour upon Miss Lydia Bennet, whose pride in being his choice for the first two was unduly evident in her comportment.

Jane, of course, had already promised the first two to Mr. Bingley, and had just turned away from that gentleman with her usual sedate smile and a tender blush when she found herself approached by Colonel Fitzwilliam. The good Colonel requested to partner her for the first, but finding her already occupied, he settled for the next two, and she responded with pleasure, as she had greatly enjoyed his company at Longbourn.

The Colonel then sought out Elizabeth, for it was in his mind to pass a pleasant half-hour in the company of his favourite in this small town. To his chagrin, she was already spoken for in the first two sets, but he was quick to claim the third, and Elizabeth was much astounded at how rapidly her evening was filling up with amiable partners.

Once on the ballroom floor for the first dance, Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised at the lightness of foot displayed by Mr. Hampton. Truth be told, she had expected little from this dancing partner, imaging him to be, like her father, not spry enough to add much to such an entertainment. Instead, she found him a most delightful companion, attentive and courtly, and despite her misgivings - and his slight shortness of breath, which rendered him incapable of carrying on more than the most superficial conversation during the dance - she enjoyed her first two dances immensely. A memory briefly came to her, of a dream she had had of dancing with Mr. Hampton, and she was greatly relieved to put that particular nightmare to rest. She did not permit herself to consider the second half of the dream, however, finding it rather too stimulating for such a public venue. When the dances were over, Elizabeth found that she was once again looking with a kindly eye upon the physician, who bowed, kissed her hand, and headed off to look for his next partner.

When Mr. Wickham came to claim his dances, however, she found him agitated and pale, looking about himself furtively. "Miss Elizabeth," he said to her in a low voice, "something of a most alarming nature has just occurred, and I fear I must leave this ball. Will you not walk with me for a moment?"

Troubled on his behalf, Elizabeth readily agreed. He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, and together the two walked as casually as possible from the ballroom, pretending to speak of the weather. Upon reaching the sparsely populated hallway, Mr. Wickham once again looked about himself.

"Forgive me, but I must tell you that I am in grave danger." And, seizing the nearest doorknob with one hand and Elizabeth's wrist with the other, he tugged her into the room and closed the door behind them.

Jane was greatly enjoying her dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Though not nearly as handsome as Mr. Bingley, he cut an exceptional attractive figure in his regimentals, and his bearing was exemplary. It was highly unexpected, however, when the dance brought them together and he took the opportunity to say,

"I could not tell you before, Miss Bennet, but I am cousin to Mr. Darcy, and I am in Hertfordshire on his behalf."

Much too astonished to say anything in reply, Jane found herself separated from him by the dance and had to wait until they rejoined to look at him with questioning eyes.

"He has told me of the kindness shown to him by you and Miss Elizabeth," the Colonel continued. "I know it would cheer him immeasurably if you would care, perhaps, to offer your greetings to him during the course of the evening."

"Of course, I would." Jane smiled warmly. "And I suppose that my sister would greatly like to do so as well."

"Would she?"

"Oh, yes, without doubt," Jane said, looking at her partner significantly, but he did not appear to have taken her meaning. Instead, he seemed, after her acquiescence, to be preoccupied with planning how to make such a meeting with Mr. Darcy come about, while also making no errors in his performance.

She made another attempt. "I do believe Mr. Darcy much enjoyed when Elizabeth read to him."

"Yes, that is just like him. He always was such a bookworm." And still Colonel Fitzwilliam did not take her meaning, yet she was unsure of how much she could trust him with her suspicions regarding Mr. Darcy's affections, much less Elizabeth's. So she let the matter drop. This was neither the time nor the place for such a conversation.

"Mr. Wickham," Elizabeth cried in vexation, finding herself with the lieutenant in utter darkness in a room which she knew from past experience to be the library, "we cannot be alone together under such circumstances; you know this!" That she had, of her own volition, been alone in a similar fashion with Mr. Darcy in the servants' hallway did not seem to occur to her.

"I know, Miss Elizabeth, and I do beg your pardon, but I have spotted a gentleman at this party, a military man, who has sworn to see me dead!"

In her curiosity momentarily forgetting the imprudence of their situation, she replied, "But why? What possible reason could he have?"

"It was his cousin, a young lady who was enamoured of me. She threw herself at me, begged me to marry her, and when I rebuffed her advances, persuaded her cousin that I had dishonoured her." He moved closer to her in the blackness and whispered, "Miss Elizabeth, I am in fear for my life."

"It is all too dreadful! What are you to do?"

"For now, I require a few moments to recover myself in the quiet solitude of this room, and I will quit the ball as soon as may be. After that, I do not know. But do say you will stay with me until I have regained my wits enough to make my escape. It would be a great comfort."

"I cannot, Mr. Wickham; it is highly improper."

"I know," he said in a soft voice, bringing his face close to hers. "But we are friends, are we not? And do not friends provide succour in one's hour of need?"

Feeling his presence far too close, Elizabeth grew uneasy and sought to push him away. "Surely there is no one lingering in the hallway now; come, I will assist your departure."

"No," he said firmly, his assured voice belying his words, "I am too shaken to flee just yet."

"Well, then, pray, let me leave."

From the sound she next heard, she could tell he now leaned against the door, blocking her escape. "Miss Elizabeth, I am wounded to the quick. Can you truly say you do not wish my company? Be honest, now, do you not prefer me to your aged suitor? Am I not more handsome, more amusing? Tell me, what does he have that I lack?"

"Mr. Wickham. I beg you to let me leave now, sir!"

He laughed lightly. "And if I do not?"

"Then it will be my pleasure to intervene," hissed an infuriated voice from the darkness, "and you, Mister Wickham, will be the worse for it."

"Darcy?" Mr. Wickham questioned in disbelief.

"The very same," said the gentleman coldly.

Elizabeth could hardly believe her good fortune that of all the rooms in Netherfield, Mr. Wickham had found the one that Mr. Darcy was most likely to frequent. Yet through the relief that flooded her, a question tickled: how would Wickham know Mr. Darcy so intimately that his voice alone was sufficient to identify him?

"Well, what a coincidence that we are both brought to Hertfordshire," Wickham replied, his voice thin and unsteady. "And Colonel Fitzwilliam, too."

Colonel Fitzwilliam? Elizabeth's head was spinning. Mr. Wickham knew him too? Was he the military man who had threatened the lieutenant's life?

"Indeed," was all that Darcy said.

Wickham cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Shall we not continue this conversation elsewhere? I cannot imagine why you should be lurking in the dark, Darcy, unless you meant to ambush me."

Elizabeth gasped.

"Perhaps I did," answered Darcy. "As it is, I feel perfectly comfortable in this room, thank you. It is very fortunate, in fact, that I happened to be here, for you apparently have been behaving in an ungentlemanlike manner towards Miss Bennet. You put her reputation at risk!" he added gravely.

"Ah, yes, well, of course I was only jesting." He laughed without conviction. "I should have let her go in a minute, and no one would have been the wiser."

"I cannot accept that."

Wickham appealed to Elizabeth. "You knew that, did you not, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth could not answer, for quite the contrary, she knew he had not been joking at all, but at the moment she was all confusion. Everything had happened so quickly, not the least of which was that she was now completely disillusioned by Mr. Wickham, who had been her favourite. And then came the revelation that the two gentleman - no, three, for Colonel Fitzwilliam was somehow involved as well - had some sort of association with each other that predated their arrival in Hertfordshire.

There next came a pause in which Elizabeth perceived that Mr. Darcy had moved closer. Mr. Wickham had surely heard it too, for he said abruptly,

"I had best be leaving," and in one swift move he flung the door open and bolted from the room. Not knowing that Darcy was unable to pursue, Wickham did not stop running until he was well away from Netherfield.

In the library, Elizabeth found the door shut once again, this time by Mr. Darcy, who enquired with concern,

"Are you well, Miss Bennet?"

"I am well, I thank you, Mr. Darcy," she replied, her shaky voice belying her words. "I am much obliged for your timely intercession." She drew two deep breaths, and, her curiosity for the moment overcoming her apprehension, she said, "If you will pardon my saying so, Mr. Wickham seems to fear your presence even more than that of Colonel Fitzwilliam. How do you come to know him?"

"His late father was steward at my estate, Pemberley."

That was no answer at all, unless Mr. Darcy was a cruel master, which did not seem to conform to her idea of him. Nevertheless, having been so very wrong about Mr. Wickham's character, she knew she could be mistaken about many other things. But she only said, "I see. Did you know he was in Hertfordshire?"

"Not at all. I have known naught of the man's whereabouts since last August."

"He appears to think that both you and the Colonel intend him harm."

"And well he should."

"So he speaks the truth?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Has the Colonel indeed threatened to kill Mr. Wickham for the false accusations against him by his young cousin? And do you join Colonel Fitzwilliam in this mission?"

"Miss Bennet, there is much you do not know of the situation. Pray, do not jump to conclusions and take the word of this cad as truth."

"I do hope you will pardon me," she said in a conciliatory manner, "but although I no longer believe all that Mr. Wickham says, I have no other information on which to rely." There was a long silence during which Elizabeth could hear Mr. Darcy sigh deeply.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam is an honourable man," he finally said. "He has no intention of hunting down Mr. Wickham like an animal."

"But how do you know? You say you did not know of Mr. Wickham's presence in the neighbourhood, but perhaps the Colonel did. Did he perhaps come to Hertfordshire with the express purpose of stalking Mr. Wickham?"

"No, he did not!" For the first time Darcy had allowed his voice to rise in frustration, and he immediately regretted it; he would not speak to Elizabeth in such a discourteous manner. "Forgive me. No, the Colonel came here at my request. He is my cousin."

"Your cousin!"

"Yes, I thought perhaps it would be to my benefit to have some family about me."

Elizabeth was flustered. The two gentlemen were in no way alike, neither in appearance nor in disposition. "I beg your pardon; I had no idea." An idea dawned. "So Colonel Fitzwilliam's young cousin is a relation of yours as well? Do you at least know something of this accusation against Mr. Wickham?"

"Miss Bennet, kindly do not press me further on this subject, for it is of a delicate nature."

Mortified, Elizabeth realized that she had gone too far, prying into a family matter. "I am sorry," said she contritely.

"Will it not be enough for you if I promise that neither the Colonel nor I have any designs on Mr. Wickham's life?"

Not nearly enough! Elizabeth's curiosity screamed silently, but aloud she only said, reluctantly, "Very well."

"Did you like him a great deal? Mr. Wickham, I mean." Elizabeth recognized the petulant tone in Mr. Darcy's voice.

"He has called upon us at Longbourn several times. He seemed...a very amiable gentleman."

"Gentleman, hah!" The petulance turned bitter. "And rather handsome, too, is he not?" When Elizabeth would not speak, he insisted, "Very handsome, is that not correct? Does he not make you swoon with his fine features and pretty blue eyes?"

Elizabeth persisted in her silence. Darcy continued, "Everything is not always as it appears, Miss Bennet. An attractive face can hide an ugly nature."

Once again there was a pause. This would have been the time for her to take her leave. But tentatively, in what seemed to be an effort to encourage her to stay, Darcy changed the subject and with it, his tone. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"I had been, yes, until Mr. Wickham joined me for the second two, for which he was to partner me, and asked me to walk with him while he told me of his fears."

His fears! "And had you already danced the first?"

"Yes, with Mr. Hampton."

"I hear...that the doctor is courting you."

"He is."

"Am I then to wish you joy?" His voice sounded strained.

"We have not as yet come to an understanding," Elizabeth said quietly, and Darcy recognized an echo of the conversation he had overheard between Mr. Hampton and Miss Bingley. "But he is a respectable man, and I must consider my future."

"I see. Your future."

Again Elizabeth could hear Mr. Darcy move closer, and to her surprise he was now so close that she could feel the heat from his body, but somehow she did not perceive it as a threat. Quite the contrary.

"Miss Bennet," said he, "I wish you would refuse his offer."

"But why?"

The opportunity having presented itself much sooner than he expected, Darcy had not planned what he was about to say, but his heart drove him onward. "I, too, have been thinking of the future, and I must tell you, it is very bleak. I do not know if I will ever regain my sight; I do not know if I will ever be able to appear in public again. But I cannot go on like this." He was agitated and overwhelmed by her proximity; his sentiments, long restrained, gushed forth carelessly. "I wish to return to my home, to Pemberley, and I need someone...someone who will care for me. It has been so lonely, you have no idea, and you, Miss Bennet, you have been so kind, so thoughtful. You cared, when no one else did; you spoke to me not as an invalid, but as a man. I would have you with me at Pemberley, to be with me always, to help me to heal." He reached out to gently touch her face, his fingertips alighting on her cheek.

Elizabeth was taken aback. His nearness, his scent had dazed her; she did not, therefore, know what she had been expecting, but this certainly would not have been it. "And this is your opinion of me!" she exclaimed, pushing his hand aside. "That I should be willing to decline an eligible offer of marriage, abandon my family and Longbourn for Derbyshire, to grow old as your nursemaid?" Her romantic notions of Mr. Wickham had this evening been quashed, and now, considering a life devoid of passion, married to a man twice her age whom she did not love, her disappointment made her cruel. "Hire someone else to wait upon you, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley!" She would have made for the door, but he was in the way.

"No! That is not what I meant at all!"

"How fortunate. For if that were what you proposed for my fate, Mr. Darcy, my choice would be that much easier." She drew breath and spit out, "I would rather marry Mr. Hampton!"

"Then by all means, go ahead and marry the old man!" he cried, seizing her clumsily by the arms, his jealousy dissolving the last of his patience. "Kiss your family goodbye and let him carry you off to Nova Scotia, for that is where you are headed!"

"Nova Scotia?" she gasped, whether from the discovery or the feel of his hands on her skin, she did not know.

"Oh, yes, did he neglect to tell you? That is his scheme: to make a new life in the New World, to remove you from your home and all you hold dear, so that you may waste away across the ocean!"

"It cannot be true!" she cried. "Why would he not say something?"

Darcy laughed mirthlessly. "Perhaps he had an idea that you might object. There is good reason for it, is there not? And there is one more thing: what think you to being called Mother by a young man your own age?"

"I do not understand."

"Of course you would not. The good doctor apparently never saw fit to tell you of his son John, from his first marriage, who resides in Nova Scotia and is the reason for your imminent departure to that wilderness. He is, as Mr. Jones has told me, 'a fine young man of two-and-twenty.' An architect. Oh, Miss Bennet, you will be very proud of your son!"

That Elizabeth was in tears was clear to Darcy from the sound of her voice. "He did not tell me."

"Of course he did not." He drew his face closer to hers, so close he could feel her panting breath on his face, but he continued without mercy. "This is a man who is not secure enough in your affections to bring up such subjects. But, that is what you want, or so you say."

"I do not know what I want," she sobbed.

"Alas, I do." And with that he brought his mouth down upon her lips, surprisingly unerringly for the darkness in which he resided. She did not know that he had long imagined such a moment, pined for it in his solitude, which helped make his aim so true.

After a moment her astonishment melted into another feeling altogether. She was reminded of her first taste of wine when she was fifteen, its enchanting warmth and then its dizzying effect. For the longest minute she luxuriated in this new sensation as he moved his lips hungrily upon hers.

It did not take long, however, for her senses to return, and she was as embarrassed by her own acquiescence - indeed, her pleasure in it! - as she was offended by his actions. So she pulled away, and with as much strength as she could muster, drew her hand back and slapped him, though in the blackness she could tell she had only harmlessly grazed his chin. It was, however, sufficient to make him step away. She then groped for the door and finding it, let herself out into the hallway. Though they saw her tear-streaked face, the one elderly couple who happened to be walking past as she darted out did not take it amiss, for the gentleman reminded his wife of how their own precious Mary had similarly hidden herself away to cry at a ball so many years ago, when she saw her first serious beau stand up with a very pretty rival. "And how well that had resolved itself, my dear, for she had she not ended by marrying the gentleman who requested her hand for the very next dance?"

Glad that she was well acquainted with the arrangement of Netherfield, Elizabeth was able to slip quickly into another vacant room without attracting notice. Once inside, she gave vent to her anger, frustration and sorrow. In the space of mere minutes, all that she thought she knew about three men had fallen to pieces: Mr. Wickham, whose beautiful exterior hid cowardice and deceit; Mr. Hampton, who was everything good and kind but who also apparently had taken her for a fool to be easily manipulated; and Mr. Darcy, whose presence moved her in ways she did not understand, but who felt that everything he wanted could be obtained for a price.

And yet, were she to be honest with herself, Mr. Darcy's actions did exactly not bespeak someone who wanted a nurse. Her face burned as she thought again of his kiss. Touching her lips with her fingertips, she fancied she could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. She was astonished, not only that Mr. Darcy would have taken such a liberty, but that she longed for him to do it again. But then, one reflection led to another, and she thought, "He said I had not taken him aright. Perhaps it is not truly a nurse he desires, but a mistress!" The very idea made her weep all the more. Indeed in his most recent actions he had behaved in a worse manner than Mr. Wickham!

All the decisions that she had thought were hers to make now seemed out of her control, and she stomped her foot in vexation. She no longer had to ponder the wisdom of marrying Mr. Hampton, for her dreams of a secure life did not include having a grown son, and her love of adventure did not extend as far as Nova Scotia. Nor could there be the possibility of a tender but impractical romance with a dashing officer.

After a time, her conscience began to nag at her: Had she just been done a favour? Should she be relieved? And why should she care if Mr. Darcy had made her such an outrageous offer, if her happiness had not been dependent upon him?

In the library, Darcy was completely bereft. Why did he not simply tell her he loved her? How could he possible have ruined his opportunity so completely? All was lost now. What could there possibly be left for him to look forward to?

He did not know how long he sat alone in the library, his head in his hands. It was only when he heard a noise at the door that he sat up and listened as it opened and closed.

"Mr. Darcy?" came the voice quietly.

"Miss Bennet?"

Darcy could not imagine what Jane Bennet was doing in seeking him out.

"I hope you will forgive the intrusion, sir," she said, "but Colonel Fitzwilliam danced only one of the two with me, insisting that I come by to send my regards. He stands now outside the door. I must say, he was quite unyielding."

"Any interruption of my seclusion is welcome, and from you, Miss Bennet, it is doubly so."

"It is my pleasure, Mr. Darcy." There was an awkward silence.

"Pardon me, you say that the Colonel was adamant that you visit?" asked Darcy finally. "Do not mistake me; I am very glad you are here. But do you not think it a rather singular request?"

Jane was relieved that Mr. Darcy's opinion tended the same way as hers. "I do. I suppose it could be that he wishes to mitigate somewhat your loneliness, and he knows I am one of the few who are aware of your residence at Netherfield."

"I suppose that is so."

"Nevertheless, I have another theory, should you care to hear it."

"Pray, continue."

It took Elizabeth the better part of a half-hour to restore herself to a state of equanimity suitable for a return to society. The revelations of this evening had been too great to bear all at once. She hardly knew how she would finish out the ball, but she was aware that if she did not soon make an appearance in the ballroom, she would surely be missed, especially by Colonel Fitzwilliam, to whom she had promised the next two.

Colonel Fitzwilliam. Should she tell him that Mr. Wickham was in the neighbourhood? If she did not, Mr. Darcy certainly would. She decided that she would inform him, if only to see if she might obtain more information about Mr. Wickham's claim. With this thought to sustain her, Elizabeth glanced in the hall mirror and pronounced herself ready to rejoin the party. Putting on a brave face, she headed toward the ballroom.

The Colonel found her just before the dance was to begin. Though he beamed at her, and showered her with compliments, Elizabeth was feeling quite unequal to speaking, and as they danced the first, their conversation was entirely one-sided. Finally, midway through the second dance, she gathered her courage and said,

"Colonel, I have the most startling intelligence to impart to you."

His interest piqued but his manner still jocular, Fitzwilliam replied, "By all means, Miss Bennet, do not keep me in suspense."

Elizabeth watched his face carefully as she said, "There is, residing in Hertfordshire as a lieutenant in the militia, a gentleman of your acquaintance: Mr. Wickham."

She was not surprised to see that his countenance turned black, and he stopped in the dance to look at her severely. "Mr. Wickham? Where? The scoundrel dares to show his face in polite society?"

Realizing that he was interrupting the flow of the dancers and causing curious eyes to fall upon them, the Colonel resumed the dance and, regulating his anger, asked in a tight voice,

"How did you make his acquaintance?" He looked around them, a scowl on his face, "Is he here at the ball tonight, Miss Bennet?"

"He was, Colonel, but he has fled. My family has been acquainted with Mr. Wickham since the militia's arrival in Meryton. This evening, he had asked me to dance the second two. But upon seeing you, he took me aside, saying he wished to inform me that his life was in danger." This was remarkable news indeed, and Fitzwilliam would have stopped again, but he could not drop out of the dance at the moment without causing confusion on the floor. Seeing that she had more to tell him, he nodded for her to continue.

"He asked me to walk with him for a space, and...then he...he..."

The Colonel had had enough, the dance be damned! He could not pretend to care about social niceties while this story was being related, for he could see that Elizabeth was growing flustered. Stepping aside from the line, he inclined his head for Elizabeth to follow him.

The two walked toward the refreshment table, and in truth Elizabeth was sorely in need of some refreshment. But Fitzwilliam did not let her drink, so desirous was he of hearing what she had to say.

Taking a deep breath, proceed she did: "Under the pretence of telling me his story, he pulled me into a darkened room."

Fitzwilliam swore under his breath. If Wickham had compromised this flower... But Elizabeth did not look as if things had gone that far, and he held his tongue as she continued.

"Therein he related to me how he feared for his life, how he had just spotted a military man who had sworn revenge...over a lie told by a young lady."

"A lie?" cried the Colonel, attracting too much attention. He coughed, and took a gulp of wine. "A lie?" he whispered. "That such a liar as he would dare to bandy the word about! He has no shame! Pray tell me, is there more?"

"Indeed." Elizabeth knew that this part would be difficult to recount. "Realizing that I was in a compromising position, I begged Mr. Wickham to permit me to leave the room. But he...did not wish it."

Elizabeth thought at that moment that Colonel Fitzwilliam would be struck down by a fit of apoplexy, so red was his visage. So she hastened to add,

"Luckily, the room in which we stood was the library."

The Colonel looked at her blankly for a moment, till she raised her eyebrows and gave a slow nod, and a smile crept across his face.

"In other words, the room was already occupied," said he with a satisfied grin.

"Precisely." Eschewing the punch, Elizabeth finally had a glass of wine, downing it much more quickly than was her habit, or was strictly ladylike. She welcomed the burning feeling as the liquid rushed down her throat and, thus fortified, she sighed, for there was still more to tell.

"The mere presence of your cousin, once he announced himself, was sufficient to send our friend Mr. Wickham bolting out into the night." With the Colonel's hearty laugh, she concluded, "I know nothing of his whereabouts at this moment," and hoped he would not question her further. Elizabeth did not think she could maintain her composure while speaking of Mr. Darcy.

Fortunately, the Colonel was content with the story as she gave it. His single question was this:

"Is Mr. Wickham now aware of my cousin's circumstances?"

"No, for the room was entirely in darkness, and Mr. Darcy gave no indication that he was anything less than whole."

"That is indeed a relief. I would not wish the news of his disability to get around to those of our circle." He paused.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, would it be terribly impertinent of me to ask if there is any truth to Mr. Wickham's assertion that you have sworn to kill him?"

The Colonel cleared his throat. "I, ah, may have used somewhat colorful language in describing what I would do if I ever saw him again." He looked at her narrowly. "But he is not in any immediate danger. I would not soil my hands with the likes of him unless absolutely necessary."

A not entirely satisfactory explanation, Elizabeth mused. "Mr. Wickham also says," she added, "that your supposed bloodlust is based on a false claim made by your young cousin that he compromised her."

With a humourless snort, he said, "That cur, he would say something like that. And what does he suggest happened?"

"That she made overtures to him, and when he spurned her, she retaliated."

The Colonel said, looking grim, "I have heard all I need to hear, Miss Bennet, I thank you."

It was impossible not to wonder where the truth of this story lay, but the Colonel had given her no details at all, and it seemed hopelessly rude to ask about it. Resigning herself to not learning more at this time, she thought she might at least be helpful.

"The commanding officer of the militia is a Colonel Forster," Elizabeth volunteered. "Should you need to address him, you will find him a sensible fellow."

"Thank you; that is a useful piece of information, indeed. I will approach him on the morrow." The Colonel surveyed the room. "I wish I had but spotted Wickham when he was out on the dance floor," he mused. "Then Netherfield would have seen some entertainment!"

Despite her low mood, Elizabeth laughed, and Fitzwilliam turned a smile upon her. "I am sorry we could not complete our dance, Miss Bennet." Biting his lip, he added with a hint of mischief, "I have already danced two with your sister Jane. She was a charming partner."

"Oh, Jane is all that is wonderful," Elizabeth replied with genuine enthusiasm, eyeing her sister as she moved with ease about the dance floor with an officer of the militia.

"Yes, it is easy to see why both gentlemen are enamoured of her."

"Both, sir?" She smiled indulgently. "Jane has always been known as the beauty of the neighbourhood. Many gentlemen admire her."

"But I am speaking of two in particular, Miss Bennet. Mr. Bingley, of course," he said, leaning in close to her and speaking confidentially. "But I also have reason to believe that there is another whose happiness depends on her."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide, for in truth, she knew of no other gentleman who had shown an interest in her sister, and she grew concerned lest a rivalry ruin a connection that held such promise.

"And that would be?"

"My cousin Darcy," he whispered.

This was entirely unexpected, and Elizabeth's confusion was great. Mr. Darcy enamoured of her sister Jane? Impossible! They had spent so very little time in each other's company, and she had seen no evidence of tender regard when he chanced to speak of her. He could not...he would not... Was it in his mind to make Jane a similar offer? No! The thought was too disturbing!

"That is singular," managed Elizabeth finally, her colour high. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am sure you are mistaken. Truly, since meeting they have spent less than an hour altogether in each other's company, and according to Jane, their one extended conversation was awkward at best."

The Colonel's look was quizzical. "An hour? Hm. That is strange. And yet, based on my observations, I would say there is something on his side, if not hers. I have seen that he seems to pay extraordinary attention when your family is spoken of, and is overly concerned with his friend Bingley's growing interest in her. The time spent together is of little consequence, for it is my experience that Darcy always knows what he wants."

"So I have recently discovered!" she whispered, looking at the floor, her face burning. Of Mr. Darcy's interest in her family she was certain, but there was also no doubt in her mind that the Colonel was in error in his perceptions. Nevertheless, to speak further on the subject of Mr. Darcy and his affections was impossible.

"In fact, I encouraged your sister to, ah, pay my cousin a discreet visit this evening, in the library."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth's eyes flew to his face in alarm, her own now losing all colour. "I have this evening come too close myself to the appearance of compromise, sir. How could you put her reputation in such jeopardy?"

"Do not be uneasy, Miss Bennet; I assure you, no one was about, and I loitered at the door to ensure that there would be no curious eyes intruding. And I believe the result was well worth the effort, for when she left the room, your sister had quite the impish smile upon her face, and she seemed well pleased." He chuckled. "She would say naught of the conversation, but I take it that my cousin has finally had the opportunity to express his feelings."

And what feelings had those been? Her mind whirled. "Colonel," insisted Elizabeth, "I am quite convinced that my sister's heart belongs to Mr. Bingley alone."

At that moment the music ended, and the dancers applauded. Fitzwilliam, his eyes already searching the crowd for Charlotte Lucas, his next partner, waved off Elizabeth's concern. "It is my opinion that she was simply unaware of Darcy's interest. But now that he has had the chance to plead his case, I am certain she will choose wisely. " He grew serious. "Miss Bennet, do you think you could help me advance the relationship? It is all that my cousin has in his life, and it would mean a great deal to him."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Colonel," Elizabeth began, but more she could not say, because the two were then interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Hampton.

"Miss Elizabeth," the physician said, with concern, as Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed his leave. "You are not dancing, and you appear pale. Are you well?"

"No," she replied with absolute frankness. Among other things, she could hardly look at her admirer without thinking of the disclosure Mr. Darcy had made this evening; she could hardly look at anyone. Everywhere she turned, she saw a source of distress: Mr. Hampton, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the officers of the militia, even her dear Jane. And she felt ill, truly ill, her emotions and her hastily drunk wine causing her head to ache and her stomach to roil. "No, Mr. Hampton, I am not well. My head hurts, and I believe I would be better off at home."

"I fear you will not be able to return home without causing a stir among the company, for there are no servants available to drive you, and I doubt your family is quite ready to leave. It is a simple matter to call a maid and have her see you to the room you occupied during your stay at Netherfield. Then I will give you a powder to help you sleep, and I will notify your parents that you will be spending the night. I speak to you now as a physician and not as a suitor, Miss Elizabeth, and I insist."

She was past arguing, past fighting, past thinking. So Elizabeth stood stolidly by as Mr. Hampton gave instructions to a ladies' maid and then followed the servant obediently upstairs.

Equally obediently, she swallowed the preparation pressed upon her by Mr. Hampton, lay down on the bed and was soon asleep. So deep was her sleep, in fact, that some time shortly before dawn, she did not hear the servants' door open, nor the shuffling step of feet that moved slowly and carefully in the darkness. Nor did she feel the bed dip as the weight of another body was added to it, or hear the agonized whisper of her name - "Elizabeth!" And if she felt the warm caress of a pair of lips upon her own as she slept, she did not recall it in the morning, though she was surprised upon awakening by the carefully folded note she found clasped in her hand.

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