Miss Bingley had halfway descended into a mania.

"Cheapside!" She stabbed her fingers inches from Bingley's nose. "His residence is in Cheapside. Do you understand what that means? He can see his warehouses from his own house. How dare you consider attaching me to such a man?"

Darcy knew he should stop her. The snarling, red faced anger she'd reached due to frustration would not convince Bingley to drop Miss Bennet. But — it was so very amusing. She'd not started this way; it had taken ten minutes of Bingley's determined silence to bring her to it.

Miss Elizabeth would have laughed. She would have hid it while in the same room, but the instant she was alone, she would have turned her pert nose up and laughed.

Bingley hated confrontation and hunched behind a tall winged back chair. It was not enough to protect him from Miss Bingley. Her voice was now a banshee's hysterical shriek, "Answer me. Cheapside. How dare you?"

Without looking at her, Bingley mumbled, "Not in Cheapside, near it. Gracechurch Street is outside of the district."

"It makes no difference!"

Bingley jumped back at the savage rage in his sister's voice. His terrified eyes darted around the richly decorated walls of his drawing room. Darcy smiled and shrugged at him.

He'd always hoped to be present when Miss Bingley made her bid to enter Bedlam. Miss Elizabeth's eyes would have been so bright and delighted as she watched.

"Do you despise me?" Miss Bingley circled around the chair trying to get closer to Bingley who kept backing away to keep the chair between them.

Miss Bingley stopped and clapped her hands over her mouth. "You do! That is it. You hate me. There could be no other reason. Why do you hate me? Have I not always loved you? Have I not always cared for you? How can you hate me? Oh! Oh" — she moaned and turned her eyes towards the heavens — "What did I do to deserve such a hateful brother?"

"Enough! I will not give way. I will not."

Darcy had never heard Bingley shout so.

Bingley's eyes were wide. Clearly he had never heard himself shout so either. He reverted to form. "Please, can we not stop this useless dispute? You know I hate to argue. I have never cared for another creature as I do Jane, and I will not give her up. Caroline, I — I love her, does that matter nothing to you? Does my happiness mean nothing to you?"

The longing in Bingley's eyes destroyed Darcy's glee. The situation was not amusing. Why couldn't Jane Bennet have loved his friend? Despite everything else, he could have supported Bingley if she loved him.

Still shocked by Bingley's shout, Miss Bingley blinked at him for several seconds. Then she sneered. "I shall not cease. You flirt with so many angels — just find another. It is never hard for men like you to switch the object of their affections."

Darcy almost winced. It was clear as day that Bingley's feelings towards Jane Bennet were stronger than any before. And to insult a man so. It struck at his honor. He needed to stop Miss Bingley before she made Bingley immune to reason.

"Miss Bingley." Darcy spoke coldly, "You have spoken. Your brother heard you. Give him an opportunity to consider your words."

Miss Bingley startled. A struggle showed on her face. She clearly wished to use whatever argument was in her mind. She snarled at Bingley one last time, "If you marry Jane Bennet, I shall never speak to you again." As Bingley blinked at that threat, Miss Bingley gave Darcy the sweetest smile. "Of course, Mr. Darcy, whatever you think best."

Miss Bingley and her sister left through the doors of the drawing room. Though she had regained most of her gentlewoman's composure and glided gracefully out of the room, Darcy fancied that the back of Miss Bingley's dress still vibrated with tension.

Mr. Hurst stood with a grunt and resettled his coat around his expansive waist. "Bingley, you care little for my counsel, so I'll not say much. Jane Bennet is a damned pretty girl, and her mother sets an excellent table. Still, they have nothing, and those younger sisters will embarrass the family terribly. However, you wouldn't marry them. Make your own choice like a man — you will regret whatever you do, but" — he gave a significant look towards the door through which his wife had exited — "I prefer to regret mistakes I can blame on myself to those where I trusted another."

Darcy pursed his lips and stared at the closed door as Bingley let out a long breath and sprawled himself over the royal blue couch.

"That was almost wise," Darcy said.

"What, Hurst?" Bingley had an arm over his eyes that muffled his voice. "He's deeper than he seems. Most people are."

Darcy grunted and settled into an armchair and waited for Bingley to speak.

It was several minutes before Bingley said, without removing the arm he had over his eyes, "Knew Caroline had a temper, but this one was special. I'm sorry you saw that."

"It didn't bother me."

"No, I could see you were laughing at her behind that steady expression. Still, I wish you hadn't seen it." Bingley sat up. "What convinced you I shouldn't marry Jane? You said some nonsense about how she didn't care for me."

"I looked for evidence that she did. After I learned the neighborhood expected you would marry Miss Bennet, I observed the two of you closely for the remainder of the evening. Your partiality is clear. However, I saw no evidence of hers. She smiled and accepted your attention — but she smiled at everyone she spoke to. She treated you the same as everyone. There were no special marks of affection."

Darcy sighed. Bingley's eyes were intent on him, and he had gone pale as he shook his head. Darcy looked away. It was even more painful to break Bingley's heart than he had expected. "I am sorry. I sincerely am. But you do not have her heart. Her mother is eager to trap a wealthy man, and Miss Bennet would need to accept if you offered. It would be better for her as well as you were she to marry a man she was not indifferent to."

"No, no. Jane cares for me. I'm sure of it. She must." Bingley smashed his fist against his mouth. "Good God, you are serious. You are convinced Jane doesn't care anything for me. But, I thought — I was sure she cared for me."

"You cannot wish her to be made to marry without real affection? You cannot wish her to merely tolerate marriage to you."

"No. I would not — but I was sure she felt for me as I did for her. We shared so many confidences and talked so much."

"It is because you always approach her; given her mother's wishes, she cannot discourage you. It is painful. I wish it were otherwise. I sincerely do. But you must accept the truth. She does not love you."

Bingley rubbed his mouth and looked about like a puppy whose master had kicked him. "But I love her. How could she not —" Bingley closed his eyes and sighed. "If she cares nothing for me — I do not wish her trapped. You must be right — you always are."

Darcy was always reticent with physical touch, but he still went to sit next to Bingley on the couch and patted him on the shoulder. Bingley's manner was dejected as he stared at the floor. Darcy knew this was his fault. If only he had not been so focused on his unsuitable admiration for Miss Elizabeth, he would have seen how his friend felt before the attachment became so serious.

"I do not understand. How I could be so mistaken — when I think back on our conversations, I still see affection. She always talked eagerly to me, always with a smile. We discussed our hopes openly."

"I examined her countenance and her behavior most closely that night. She showed no symptom of deep regard for you — none."

Bingley nearly looked like he wished to cry. It made Darcy's chest and eyes ache in sympathy. He hated to see his friend unhappy. Bingley almost always was happy.

"I only wish —" Bingley stared at the mantle above the fireplace, where he had hung portraits of his parents. "I only wish I could be certain. She spoke as though she had affection for me."

"Certainty in such cases is impossible. However —" Darcy took a deep breath as he searched for the best words to convince Bingley to give up hope. His friend would not be able to leave this dismal affair behind him until he felt sure.

As Darcy thought, Bingley straightened happily. "I could ask her."

"I have already told you she will accept a proposal — in her position she must." The somberness of the occasion did not fully mask Darcy's annoyance when forced to repeat himself.

"I know that — I shall ask her to tell me what she feels; whether she loves me as I her. No matter what her interests, she would not lie about her affection."

"She is poor — it is not possible to trust the words of the desperate."

The two men stared at each other. Darcy grimaced. He should not have implied Jane Bennet might lie. She was a gentlewoman, and her behavior had always been exemplary. He had no call to question her character. Yet, Mrs. Younge had been raised a gentlewoman, and she lied to them. He could not repent his caution to Bingley.

"Enough. You shall not insult my Jane. If she lies, I am entirely deceived in her character and will suffer the consequence. Besides, I love her. You and Caroline may think I am a useless, flighty gentleman, but I am not such a man. I could not find another angel to love just because I flirt easily. I love Jane, and I will remain in love with her. I am not so changeable. Until she says that she wishes nothing to do with me, I will pursue her."

Bingley's sudden stubbornness surprised Darcy into silence. Why must his friend choose now to discover firmness? The consequences were very like to haunt him the rest of his life. He should have silenced Miss Bingley far sooner and not suggested Miss Bennet was dishonest.

Bingley walked to the door with his head high. He turned round, "I do not trust your observation of Jane any more. You do not understand her character. She would never deceive me in a matter of such import. You have had maybe half a conversation with her — because you were too busy arguing with Miss Elizabeth. I should trust my own observation. I am sure she loves me."

Darcy started after his friend. "Wait, Bingley — I should not have said that. Miss Bennet is a fine gentlewoman. But I beg you, be cautious."

Bingley grinned back. "I know you did not mean it. Even a man as fastidious as you can see that Jane is an angel."

Charles Bingley had been terrified when he first arrived at boarding school as the awkwardly dressed son of a man in trade. A lump had stuck in his throat, and his stomach remained clenched for a week. Finding the nerve to greet the aristocratic children around him had been the hardest thing he ever did.

It was harder to jump into saddle and set out upon the dirt road from Netherfield to Longbourn.

At first he'd been sure Darcy misinterpreted Jane's reserved nature as a lack of affection. But — Darcy was right about so many things. Bingley's certainty that he was wrong this time could not last.

When he arrived at Netherfield the previous evening, it was too late to call upon Longbourn, but too early to sleep. Bingley tried to play billiards; he went to clean his hunting guns, but they had been packed away and sent to London by Caroline; he tried to read a book from his small library. Nothing distracted him from the swirling thoughts. For half the night he paced in fear down moonlit halls, distrusting every memory which suggested Jane had affection for him.

Darcy would prove right again. Tomorrow he would learn for certain Jane did not care for him. He would walk into the room; he would ask Jane to tell him truly if she loved him; and she would tell him no. He would be terribly embarrassed. He would have made Jane uncomfortable. He would ride back to London, leave Hertfordshire behind forever, and tell Darcy that he was right again.

But — what if Jane loved him? If only his own happiness had been at stake, Bingley never could have gone to ask.

He had been so sure she loved him the day before. If she loved him and he abandoned her, she would be heartbroken. She would cry alone to not burden her sisters with the depth of her unhappiness. The unhappiness she felt because he abandoned her.

The well-maintained surface of a turnpike to London crossed his path as he rode through Meryton. He could take it. But he needed to see Jane's face and ask her. He could not abandon her until he knew she did not care.

Jane would never lie about her feelings. He loved her and she was an angel. If the Bennets' situation was so desperate that she need marry the first rich man who came calling, no matter what her feelings, he'd rather she married him instead of someone else. He loved her.

The butler immediately ushered Bingley into Longbourn's already familiar white drawing room. A cheery fire burned, and decorative mahogany cabinets laden with brightly painted china and ivory figurines were scattered against the walls. The ladies had gathered to meet him. His eyes immediately turned towards her.

Jane wore a high necked blue day dress and had a handful of needlework upon her lap. Her blond hair was uncovered and pinned into a neat bun. Rather than her usual smile she looked down and twisted her hands together.

Bingley's heart sank.

"Lord — Lord! It is a very good to see you. Mr. Bingley, you are always so very, very welcome. Please sit down. Please sit down — you look very well! Girls, do you not agree? Is not Mr. Bingley looking very well?"

Bingley tried to give full attention to Mrs. Bennet. It would be polite and would distract him from his nerves. His sisters and Darcy were too fastidious. Though she was loud and wordy, he preferred Mrs. Bennet's country good cheer and hospitality to the cold civility often found in town.

"It surprised us exceedingly to hear your sisters had removed from Netherfield — I'm so pleased to see you have returned. You must come to dinner tomorrow — you had promised us a family dinner. I must have you soon — there shall be two courses."

Bingley nodded amicably, showing nothing of the flare of annoyance mention of his sisters brought. "I shall certainly attend you. I look forward to it greatly. Your table is always well worth enjoying." Though, if Jane's response was unfavorable, he would not be at Longbourn for dinner the next day.

Lydia cried, "La, there is such news. You must hear it — Mr. Collins made Elizabeth an offer and she refused him. Not that I blame her, the ugly man."

Jane spoke, "Lydia, you should not speak so of your cousin." Despite the exasperation in her tone and words, it was music to Bingley's ears.

"Well he was! He was boring. He was quite the most boring person I have ever met. It would have been no fun if Lizzy married him." Lydia returned her attention to Bingley. "Then, not more than a day later, Mr. Collins became engaged to Charlotte Lucas. It was such a joke that he stayed with us till this morning."

Lydia's words caused the lump in Bingley's throat to grow. Certainly Jane would refuse him like Elizabeth had Mr. Collins. She would be too kind to laugh at him, but it was absurd to think a man like him had the heart of such a perfect angel as Jane. Yet, no distaste showed in the way Jane gave him quick glances and small smiles.

Mrs. Bennet had begun to speak again when Bingley burst out, "Might I have an opportunity to speak to Miss Bennet in private?" It was impossible to stand the jagged tension which stabbed his chest longer.

Jane gave him a nervous smile before her eyes returned to the hands folded on her lap. Her color was high. Bingley's heart beat as though he had fenced for hours. Miss Elizabeth gave him a bright friendly smile when she curtsied as she left. Bingley saw her wink at Jane. Mrs. Bennet volubly agreed to the audience. Jane didn't say anything.

Surely Mrs. Bennet would not be so pleased to give him opportunity to speak if she only cared for his fortune. And Elizabeth had refused Mr. Collins, whose situation was perfectly eligible. In the unlikely case Jane accepted him, it would be for himself.

Jane looked up at Bingley, holding her eyes on him as he swallowed. Bingley took one of the armless oak chairs around the card table and placed it next to where Jane sat on the blue sofa. He sat down and took her hand. It was warm and fragile, and he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

"I must have your honesty; do not pretend more affection for me than you possess. Do not try to spare my feelings. Do not speak anything but what is in your heart. I know, you have no reason to do so — I know I am in many ways a trifling man — I love you terribly. I cannot ride away and leave without asking. Do you — can you — love me?"

Jane's smile was brilliant. "Oh, yes! I do love you. I had never known it was possible to feel so much for a person. It hurt so terribly when I thought you gone, and when your sister wrote — oh, I do love you!"

Jane leaned her head close to him, and they kissed. When they parted Bingley took Jane's hand, and they greeted the family with the good news. A little part of him, which had been always jealous of Darcy, laughed: When it mattered most, I was right, and Darcy was wrong.

The next morning Bingley arrived at Longbourn early and breakfasted with the Bennets. Everyone sat around the breakfast table together, and there was a great deal of noise and bustle. Bingley loved the way Jane darted sweet smiles at him, and his chest fluttered exultantly when once she snuck her hand under the table to squeeze his. She had always looked like an angel, but she had never looked so pretty as this morning.

He enthusiastically participated in the morning conversation, but over the course of an hour a desperate desire to have privacy so he might speak to Jane, and Jane alone, grew in him. From the way her eyes turned upon his face Bingley was sure Jane shared the sentiment. He watched her pretty red lips open to consume one last bite of pastry as they finished breakfast.

"Mrs. Bennet," Bingley began as the footman collected the dishes from the breakfast table, "that was the best breakfast I've ever had! The finest repast, the best lemon tart, and the most excellent rolls and butter!"

Mrs. Bennet smiled prettily at the compliment. "Lord! Thank you for those very kind words — though I'm sure it is not true that you have never had a better meal — I put great effort into my entertainment. And I have taught my daughters how to manage a kitchen as well. You shall find nothing wanting once married."

Bingley quickly grabbed Jane's hand. She blushed and looked lovely as he replied, "I know I shall be very, very happy when I marry my dear Jane." He pulled her ungloved hand up to kiss it and enjoyed the feel of her small delicate fingers against his mouth. Releasing her hand, he said, "I'm quite ready to burst at the seams after that meal and must have a walk — Jane, will you join me?"

She agreed, "Oh yes, there's nothing I'd like more than a walk now."

Jane looked at Elizabeth who said, "I too like the idea of a walk and shall join you — we should head in the opposite direction from Meryton; have you seen the woods thereabouts?"

Damn! He'd hoped to have Jane alone and maybe kiss her again. Oh, well. It would be too much to expect the Bennets to allow them to walk about without chaperone.

"La!" Lydia said, "Looking at woods. Well, I wish to see if Mr. Wickham has returned from London. You may enjoy the woods without me. I shall visit our aunt Phillips to hear the gossip."

Though clear, the day was cold, and when they exited the house, Jane and Elizabeth were tightly bundled up. Mr. Bingley took Jane's arm and looked to see if Elizabeth wished to walk on his other side.

She backed away with a dimpled smile and held up the huge rectangle of a book she had brought out. "I wish to compare the plants hereabouts to those in this guide to the fauna of southern England. I fear I shall be quite absorbed doing so and have absolutely no attention for your conversation or doings." She winked at them, adding, "I know this distresses you, but it shall be almost as though I were not present."

The three set off on their walk, and Elizabeth had soon trailed a fair distance behind them. As promised, any time Bingley glanced back at her she appeared preoccupied by her book. The woods Elizabeth had suggested were coppiced and at points could only be traversed through a woodsman's path. The trees deadened sound, and as Bingley animatedly talked with Jane, it felt like they were alone.

Jane stopped walking and looked back at her sister. Bingley faintly saw Elizabeth raise her eyebrows, and she lifted the large book so it entirely covered her face, removing any view she may have had of them. He stared quizzically at her form. Jane laid her gloved hand on his cheek and pulled him to look towards her. Blushing brightly at her forwardness, she stepped up to kiss him.

Bingley wanted to dance a fast jig from happiness when Jane broke their kiss and nervously looked at her sister. Elizabeth stood where she had before, with the book held up in front of her face. How long would it take before her arms grew tired?

Jane's sweet lips were red and entrancing. Bingley ran his knuckles down Jane's cheek and placed his lips on hers. When they broke off again, Elizabeth still stood with the book in front of her face. She was an excellent chaperone.

This time Jane took Bingley's arm and firmly grasped his hand. Her face glowed a delightful shade of red. It had been very clever of them all to decide the previous day they had no reason to wait more than a month for the wedding.

Bingley wanted to roar with happiness; he wished to tilt his head back and shout at the skies: "Jane Bennet loves me. The most perfect woman in England loves me." Instead he laced his fingers with Jane's and smiled gaily.

When Bingley glanced back he saw that Elizabeth, alerted by the sound of the footsteps moving away, had lowered the book and followed them again — though she pretended to be engaged by her study of a thicket.

For a time smug happiness prevented speech. The sweet taste of Jane's mouth lingered. Everything was perfect. Recollection of his sister damaged his mood.

Bingley sighed. He had firmly decided the previous night he must know. If he were to become a married man, responsibility demanded he protect his wife and manage his sister. "What did Caroline write which concerned you? I forgot to ask yesterday in the midst of our happiness — yet I must."

Jane looked away and clearly did not wish to speak of it. "I am sure they only misunderstood your feelings and plans. They must not have realized you cared for me." Jane spoke halfheartedly, as though she knew her words were a fiction.

Bingley said with a bitter smile, "It shows your good nature that you pretend to believe that, but… my sisters' behavior and thoughts are not always what they ought. Caroline knew my affections were yours. What did she write?"

"If she knew her words smacked of dishonesty. I feared that might be the case. Elizabeth believed she wished to separate us." Jane looked away. "If your family opposes our marriage, are you certain that you desire to ignore their wishes?"

Bingley pulled the hand she had entangled with his to his mouth and kissed it violently. "I am certain. Caroline and Louisa can lose themselves in a desert. I would not care. I love you; you love me. That is the only thing which concerns me. Do not feel sorry for Caroline and her disappointment — she only wishes to puff herself up before her friends."

Jane still frowned and would not meet his eyes. "You love me, do you not? You said you love me."

Her beautiful eyes flew to his. "You know I do. Do not doubt it. My affection for you is strong and steady."

"Then we shall be happy. I need no one but you."

He kissed Jane's hands again. Her face blossomed into a smile. "Oh, Charles" — she blushed pink as a carnation at the use of his Christian name — "I am so happy. So very happy. I only wish everyone — especially your sisters — were as happy as I am."

Bingley loved his sisters, but he knew them too well to have any great illusions. Until Caroline had Jane's goodness it would be impossible for her to have the pure unselfish happiness in the eyes of his beloved. For his own part, he wished nothing more than to stare into those beautiful eyes forever. And to think Darcy had nearly convinced him to stay in London. It would have been the worst mistake of his life.

He wished to kiss Jane and looked at Elizabeth to see if she watched. Her face was hidden behind that excellent book of hers. He caught Jane's eyes. She had glanced at Elizabeth as well, and with a smile they kissed. When their mouths parted this time, Bingley said, "I rather prefer your sister to my own."

Jane giggled and said, "She soon will be your sister as well."

"That she will. I hope someday we shall do her equally good service as chaperones."

They began to walk again, and a minute later Bingley sighed, "I must know all my sister wrote to you, else it will nag at my mind."

Jane looked away and sighed as she fished the letter out of the inner pocket of her coat. "I confess it had gravely concerned me, so I read it several times."

Bingley took the perfumed papers, which he recognized as his sister's stationary, and unfolded them. He read the letter with a silent frown as Jane watched anxiously. Damn Caroline! To tell Jane he wished to become attached to another. His dear angel was too trusting and kind. She must have believed the message, at least in part.

He pulled his arm around Jane and embraced her. "This letter must have pained you so — it would not be in your heart to suspect Caroline of treachery, so your only hope must have been that she was mistaken and your understanding of my character and desires was superior to hers."

Jane nodded and wriggled closer to him, "I tried to hide it. I tried to maintain some hope, but I was miserable for two days."

"I am most angry at Caroline — to do that to you. The story is ridiculous. Georgiana! Why she is almost a child."

They reached the edge of the woods and turned to walk along a low hedge, which marked the edge of Longbourn's fields. They headed back towards the house. Jane asked, "You were uncertain yesterday. Had I not given you enough indication of my affection? Charlotte — Miss Lucas that is — told me I ought to be more forward, yet I could not bring myself to show more than I did."

"'Tis not your fault. Your feelings were clear. Last night I tried to recall every conversation we have had, so I could impress them forever into my memories. I hope to never forget anything from the first few months of our happiness together. There were many ways you showed how you liked me. And I had been aware of them, some at least, before. Yet —"

Bingley frowned. It had been disloyal to Jane to doubt her. He didn't want to admit it. "You — you must understand. Understand, Darcy is a clever man who advises me well. His advice has been most useful. And he cares for my well-being. He does — he observed you most closely on the night of the Netherfield ball, and your natural reserve convinced him that you only welcomed my company out of politeness. Please do not judge me harshly — his advice is in most cases good — but Darcy's conviction nearly became mine."

"How did he expect me to act?" Jane said, "It would have been improper to openly show affection before your choice was clear. I suspect your friend would have blamed me had I done so."

"He would have — Darcy looks upon matters of the heart with the same suspicious eye he uses to judge money matters. And this summer something happened, I know not what, which left him in a thundercloud of a mood. He has spoken insultingly of people's motives since. I do not think Darcy is… qualified to judge in such a matter as this. He rarely speaks to women who are not closely connected to him. It is no surprise he would misjudge your character. He had hardly spoken with you."

Jane waved her free hand. "He thought I would accept you due to your money even though I had no particular regard for you?"

Bingley gestured in agreement, and Jane said, "I never would have. Never. To marry without affection is something I have always been resolved against. Had I not met you, I would have far preferred to be a poor surplus relative when my father died. To live on such terms of intimacy with somebody I merely liked would be insupportable."

Jane looked back at Elizabeth, who waved before bringing her book up in front of her face again. "Elizabeth's refusal of Mr. Collins ought to convince even Mr. Darcy that we Bennet girls would stand on the principle when called to do

That night Elizabeth dressed in a long cotton nightgown and added a woolen robe for warmth. She walked to her sister's room. Jane was ecstatic, and she would marry an excellent man who she loved. Elizabeth should only feel happiness. Yet… In a little more than a month's time, in less than three fortnights, her dear Jane would be gone. These late-night conferences would be no more. No longer would she be Jane's closest confidante. She would be alone when she needed to share her deepest anxieties or hopes.

A candle flickered on Jane's nightstand, and a ruddy orange glow came from the half burnt coals in the fireplace. Jane had snuck under the quilt for warmth, and a blizzard of white curling paper floated about her head. Her teeth flashed as she sat up to greet her sister, "Is it not perfect? I still fear it is a dream."

Elizabeth smiled mischievously and hopped onto the bed next to Jane, causing it to creak. "Tell me: Was I not an exceptional chaperone?"

The skin on Jane's cheeks went dark red in the dim candlelight, and she coughed at Elizabeth's eager grin, "You were the best of chaperones."

"So, what is it like to kiss him?"

Jane flushed even redder and looked away. "Lizzy!"

"Pray tell, pray tell. If I was such a good chaperone, I must be rewarded. Do tell!" Jane was too flushed to speak. "Pleeease. My sweet Jane won't deny me, will she?"

Jane did not meet Elizabeth's eyes as she spoke, "It was so perfect. I put my hand on his jaw, and his eyes were very deep, and I leaned up and put my lips on him. I've never felt so bold. My stomach fluttered wildly, and he put his hand on my back and drew me closer. And my chest pounded so hard. And once we parted all I wanted to do was kiss him again, and I kept watching his lips and —" Jane wriggled under the covers. "It was more than I ever imagined."

Elizabeth sighed dreamily.

Watching Elizabeth's vacant expression, Jane showed her own mischievous smile. "Now we must find you a husband so that you might kiss him!" Elizabeth blushed as Jane squeezed her hand. "We must! All that is left is to find the proper man. Who amongst our acquaintance would you wish to kiss most?"

Elizabeth was too embarrassed to reply. Jane said with her cheery voice, "Perhaps it might be —" She stopped and shook her head. "No, I fear he would not do it all."

"Do you think of Mr. Wickham? For, due to Mr. Darcy's cruelty, it would be most imprudent."

"He had been on my mind, but such a match seems ill-advised. I do not believe Darcy was cruel. From what Bingley has said about his friend, he always acted with the best of intentions. Mayhap, some misunderstanding occurred betwixt the two."

Jane was naïve, and so was Bingley. The truth of Mr. Wickham's claims was shown in the open goodness of his manner. Darcy always displayed disdain for those he thought beneath him — Elizabeth recalled the first time she saw him, standing in the entryway of the assembly room with his broad shoulders pulled back and his head held high. She is tolerable I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me. It was all of a piece: his rudeness to her, his disdain for the neighborhood, and his cruelty towards Wickham.

"I expect you to think so. It is good you believe the best of your husband's friend. You have no need to judge differently; you shall be friends with him in any case."

Jane pressed her lips tightly together as she stared at Elizabeth, and the bed creaked as she sat higher and crossed her arms. Before Jane spoke again, Elizabeth asked, "What had Bingley to say about his sister's letter? Was my interpretation correct in the main?"

"It was." Jane rubbed her arm. "You are too good Lizzy to triumph in this. I was mistaken in their regard. Despite our friendship, both Caroline and Louisa committed themselves to convincing their brother to abandon me. They followed him to London solely to argue against return. I wish it were possible they acted from the purest of motives, but Bingley convinced me they did not. He said Caroline especially was motivated by a desire to gain a sister who she could boast amongst her friends about — and I am not. I hope we shall be friends, but I fear I will not trust her affection for some time."

"Jane! That is the most unforgiving speech you've ever made. I'm delighted you shall not continue their dupe."

"I do not like the need to mistrust their affection." Jane frowned. "Bingley was furious after he read the letter."

Elizabeth was glad to hear it. It would bode ill if he did not take Jane's side against his sisters. She asked, "What part did Mr. Darcy play? Unless you say otherwise, I shall believe he strenuously counseled his friend against you."

"Mr. Darcy acted from the purest motives. He observed me during the ball at Netherfield and became convinced from my calm manner that I did not have any strong affection for Bingley. I cannot be happy for the mistake, but it was honest. Charlotte had counseled me to show my affection more openly. I shall not hold it against him. And neither shall you. I ought to have said nothing, given your dislike for him. Bingley depends greatly upon Mr. Darcy's advice, and it proceeds from a real concern in his friend's well-being."

"I am certain you believe that. For my part, I am convinced his real objection was our want of wealth and connections. As Mr. Wickham told me, Darcy wishes everyone about him to be well spoken of."

A half-hour later Elizabeth slipped back into her bed. Her mind went immediately to the kisses she carefully had not watched that morning. It sounded delightful and sensuous.

She imagined kissing Wickham. After a minute she gave up. The idea was a little pleasant; he was very handsome. But the fantasy lacked something.

Wickham was shallow. Almost — bland. He was not bland, but he would become so with time. Marriage to him would entail decades of empty compliments, and no matter how prettily they were said, no matter how handsome the sayer, the prospect was dreary. Marrying Mr. Wickham's sameness would be nearly as horrid as marrying Mr. Collins's heaviness.

Elizabeth pulled her blankets tightly around to ward off the cold of the early December night. Wickham was like a sugar confection: He had an extremely pleasant taste, but no substance. One could not live off it. She would never marry a man like Mr. Wickham.

What sort of man did she desire?

Perhaps because she had spoken of him with Jane, Elizabeth's mind flitted to Darcy. His intense burning blue eyes and strong jaw line. The restrained anger in his eyes when they spoke of Wickham during their dance. Elizabeth's breath flew away, and her face burned hot as she imagined him pushing her against a wall and laying his lips upon hers.

Her heart pounded uncomfortably, and her body felt tight and twisted in odd places. He would push his long lean form against hers. Elizabeth forced her mind away from that image. Mr. Darcy would never be bland.

Elizabeth breathed heavily. This was such a joke. She felt nothing at the thought of a handsome, amiable man who liked her and a rush of emotion at the thought of the odious, disagreeable… handsome man who cared nothing for her. A man she hated.

If she was to be forever so perverse, she would end an old maid. At least Jane would provide nephews and nieces for her to spoil.

AN: This story is complete and published as The Return: A Pride and Prejudice Story. To place it in the Kindle Unlimited Library, it needs to be exclusively at Amazon for 90 days. As soon as that period ends in the middle of December, I will post the story in 10k word weekly segments. If you want to be notified when the story starts updating, follow the story.

Also, if you want to support me as an author, or simply are so intrigued that you can't possibly wait, buy it or read through Kindle Unlimited on Amazon.

If you don't know what it is, Kindle Unlimited is like Netflix for books. For ten USD a month you can read any book that is in the library, and there are a solid number of Pride and Prejudice stories available. The selection changes over time and is limited, but if this sounds interesting, Amazon offers a one month trial. Try it and read my book, and then read some more fun books. I really liked Haunting Mr. Darcy