So, this chapter only needed some "minor" adjustments, but my academic career needed major adjustments, hence the lateness of this update. I worked on this chapter a bit, yet I am not entirely satisfied with it. I may change something in the future, who knows! Nevertheless, I hope you will enjoy it. Thanks for everyone who put up with my silly story! You guys rock. Special mention to PutItBriefly, who beta'd this chapter (well, the whole story, actually) and is always encouraging and a sweetie.

On the bushy path to Longbourn, Darcy's eyes jerked to Bingley and Jane. They walked ahead, but the distance was short. Bingley had proposed a call on Longbourn, seeing the morning sky was free from any menacing clouds.

Elizabeth happily went on. "Or, how they could not prevent the inevitable fate to-day! Poor Charles. Did you see his face when I suggested the wedded couple should be paired together to lead the way? He looked positively worried."

"That was wicked of you, I must admit."

"No more than being forbid to court you," she countered flippantly. "And I will not allow you to chide me, you know. Yesterday, I saw your countenance when Jane came to the library, or even when you teased me in front of Charles!"

His eyebrow arched, he peered down at her. "I fully restrained my mirth—rather admirably, I daresay."

"Oh yes! You are always so stern, sir, that when you are amused, I can see it at once on your face!"

Darcy shrugged. "That is quite common and natural."

"Of course! It was not meant to chide you. You," she eyed him fondly, with a crooked grin "you have a very expressive countenance—as well as beautiful eyes. You are incredibly handsome, my dear, when you smile, when you laugh. I find myself admiring you greatly."

His pace come to an abrupt halt. A deep shade of red spread up to the tips of his ears. "Why—this is… I thank you, you are too kind."

At the sight of his embarrassment, of his gloved hand covering his mouth, she blinked, but soon a giggle surged from her lips. How she longed to to kiss that blush away!

But of course, it was not to be.

"Lizzy!" Bingley called. "What is it with you, to-day? You are awfully slow to walk."

"I am not!" The two couples were soon walking side by side. Jane and Bingley were some unwitting chaperones of sorts, even though they must have believed to be akin to parents guarding children. "Rather, it is Mr. Darcy who is slow, you know. He is gentlemanly enough to slow his long legs down and indulge my idleness."

"You are not a slow walker, Miss Bennet."

"I am not, you believe? Then, the only explanation, is that you are, sir!"

"I enjoy slow walks," Jane chimed in. "I like very much ambling about and enjoying the sight. I find no faults in this, truly!"

Dear Jane! Darcy's champion, indeed! Elizabeth laughed merrily and, at length, agreed with her.

"It has been quite few months since we have last seen each other, Miss Catherine. I hope you are well."

Darcy bowed in front of her and Kitty looked terrified. "Yes! Thank you! I hope you as well, sir!"

Elizabeth sighed as Kitty curtsied clumsily and fled Darcy's presence, running in the music room to seek shelter in Mary's company. The poor gentleman frowned. Elizabeth, in turn, offered only a shrug.

Mrs. Bennet seemed surprised to see the tall gentleman appear. It was quite an odd sight, his tall figure standing stiffly, albeit with an air of elegance, among the familiar walls of Longbourn.

The matron, after a couple of questions to the gentleman—was his counsel so necessary to Bingley, was not his steward enough? Were the advices profitable?—seemed to be bored with his clipped replies and opted, unfortunately, for another subject.

The universe had conspired against her, thought Elizabeth. That day, Lydia had written.

"My child!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Oh—she is not a regular correspondent, for she is always so busy!"

"How is she, Mama?" Jane asked.

"Why, well indeed! But she is in good health—poor dear, though! She feels Mr. Wickham's commitment to the army keenly. Why, he is too always so busy!"

"She does not feel lonely, I hope?"

"Oh, Mr. Wickham is an attentive husband," was the reply, accompanied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He is an excellent man. Lydia shall be well, I am sure."

All of this Elizabeth suffered in silence, sipping her tea. Darcy was seated away from her. She dared not to steal a peek at his face.

Mrs. Bennet went on, "I am surprised she has not written to you, Jane! Oh, that girl, I advised her to write you more often."

"I should like to hear more from her! Lyddie is so far away! I am sure her husband is kind to her, yet I do hope she makes new friends."

"My child is bright, she will find many friends. But, Jane, you care about your sister very much—you are such a good girl—and Lydia is in need of help, you see."

At that, Jane started. "In need of help?"

"In her letter, she wrote she wishes for a new pelisse. Newcastle, what a horridly cold place it is! Oh, and a new gown too! There are some assemblies to attend… "

No words came from Elizabeth, even though her mouth opened, then shut. Her gaze, this time, was inevitably pulled to Darcy. His impassive face betrayed nothing, except for the familiar icy shade in his eyes. Her cheeks burned fiercely. To talk of such things in his presence—he, who had helped her family so greatly!—he, who had already generously paid Wickham!

Her eyes dropped on the carpet. Had her mother no shame? Had she to talk freely of familiar matters in front of him?

The Bingleys, however, were gracious as ever. Bingley smiled, albeit awkwardly. "If Mrs. Wickham wishes to write to my wife to ask for er, a favour, we are surely willing to discuss the matter, Mrs. Bennet."

"Yes," Jane agreed. "If Liddie writes, we shall be happy to listen to her needs."

"You are so good, Mr. Bingley!" The matron cried, "If only all men were as kind as you with their friends!"

There was no way Elizabeth could burn with shame even more, but that seemed the case.

Thank the Lord, Mr. Bennet appeared in the drawing-room in that moment.

The men stood and perfunctorily bowed.

Mr. Bennet only arched a curious eyebrow. "Oh, do not bother. I thought you came here to aid your friend, Mr. Darcy, not to visit the silliest household in the county."

The matron huffed. "Mr. Bennet, do not talk in such a way to our guest!"

Mr. Bennet chuckled. "Lydia still graces us with her complaints, so I wager my statement stands correct. Gentlemen, I am sure you had enough of all this—come, shall my port tempt you?" He gestured for the hallway, then, "I should like to hear such great a man's opinion about matters of land. Bingley praised it quite abundantly and my curiosity is picked."

Between the mother's embarrassing babbling and the father's sharpness, Darcy seemed to prefer the latter. He hesitated, standing awkwardly on his feet, threw a he glanced at Elizabeth, then thanked her father. With Bingley, he bowed and the two disappeared in the hallway.

Elizabeth sighed, only half relieved—her father surely was less taxing than her mother, surely. Or so, she hoped.

"I do not know how you poor girls," the mother sniffled, "suffer the presence of such taciturn, insufferable man under your roof."

Jane's porcelain cheeks turned scarlet. "Mama, Mr. Darcy is a great friend of my husband's. He is a good man."

"Good, he may be—and rich—but he barely opens his mouth to talk in company he considers beneath his station. So rude, so willing to bore people!" She gave an energetic shake of her head, then added, "I wonder how you could ever bear his company."

Elizabeth wondered how he, Darcy, could ever bear it—her family's company, the impropriety, the carelessness. She could barely suffer it.

By the time they were back to Netherfield Hall, Elizabeth's spirit were low. Walking had proved to be powerless on her mood.

"Lizzy," Jane touched her shoulder. "Would you like to retire with me and prepare for the evening? Perhaps you wish to talk?"

Not even Jane and Bingley's cheerfulness and goodness could heal her embarrassment and Darcy's quietness did not quell her unease. She bit her lip. How she wished to talk to him. "No, dear, thank you. I should like to rest alone, before that—if you do not mind, that is."

"Of course I do not," the sister assured. "But if you are in need of company, pray do not hesitate to come to me."

With a strained smile, Elizabeth excused herself from company. Darcy caught her gaze as she went. She prayed he would follow her, leaving the Bingleys with whatever ridiculous excuse he could think of. As long as he would come to her.

She strode about the house. The library, this time, would not do. Jane and Bingley would easily find them. That horrid, dull sitting-room was her choice. The ugly green wallpaper and dusty furniture would suit her gloomy mood admirably.

She waited for Darcy on the threshold, spying on the hallway. She first heard footsteps, then she saw him. This time, Elizabeth had the good sense to avoid to snatch him and drag him where she wished. Instead, she watched for him to cross the threshold, then closed the door quietly.

Inside the room, with an impassive face, Darcy was unwilling to break the silence. He seemed deep in thoughts, barely acknowledging her presence. He had not even spared a look to her, not even a kiss—how silly!

Observing him, her fingers balled in fists. Perhaps her family had successfully brought back to surface his former reservations and doubts?

But she knew better, she had to. She reached out to him, her open palm laying on his arm. "Mr. Darcy?"

The gentleman seemed to shake from his errant thoughts. The faint curve on his lips brought relief, but it was his words which were most powerful: "Forgive me, dear. I was dwelling upon your father. When he invited me and Bingley to his study, I was tempted to request a private audience."

"Oh!"

"I cannot wait to present you as my betrothed to—well, to everyone."

In spite of the pleasant whirlwind of emotions, as any foolish doubt disappeared, guilt arose. Her pettiness and silliness had put his determination to a halt, as short as it was. Her fingers reached for his. It was time to abandon her amusement. "We could make an announcement," she said on a gentle, guilty smile, "at dinner, to-night. Then, to-morrow, to Longbourn we go again."

Light broke on his face. "Thank you."

As she beamed back at him, the thrill of being able to present him to the world as her future companion of her life shook her heart. She longed for it as much as Darcy. Yet, she knew, reality would intrude. Her family's reaction—his family's as well—the visits to her neighbours, the queue of curious well-wishers, the preparations for the wedding—everything would come into their small bubble. It was not, however, a daunting bargain to her. She would shield Darcy from gossip, from general unpleasantness of the neighbourhood. And he, she knew, would defend her against any protest of his family..

His voice pulled her from her dwellings. "I am pained to suspend your amusement, you know."

With a mischievous grin, she leaned closer to him. "Are clandestine meetings forbid at Pemberley, sir? Because, I believe, if they are not, we shall have our trysts—and if they are deemed unacceptable under your roof, then, I say, they shall be even more exciting."

Darcy laughed, then he said nothing. He only welcomed her in his arms, his face buried deep in her hair. Beneath her hand, his heart raced madly. "I can barely wait," he murmured at last, "to have you at Pemberley. I cannot believe—forgive me, but you will truly be at Pemberley."

"Yes, I shall be at Pemberley—as your wife."

"Wife," he repeated and stepped back, only slightly, just for his gaze to seek hers. "Elizabeth, in less than month will be one year since I the dreadful day I proposed, and I can scarcely believe you will be my wife—I had no hopes back then, after… "

When only yet another smile replaced words, when silence seemed to be winning over his voice, Elizabeth felt her eyes stinging. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she laughed against the surging tears. On a whisper, she could only say, "I know."

Of course Elizabeth knew. Her own hopes had been crushed when he had disappeared after the wedding. Even when he had retreated to his usual aloofness, days ago, her spirits had taken a blow.

But it mattered not, because their lips had met now, just like they had, somehow, found each other again.

He was kissed her fiercely, the crushing need of closeness also too familiar to her to be ignored. His hungry mouth pressed on hers again with more urgency, more frenzy, again and again.

Elizabeth could not say how her back, later, came to be pressed against the horrid, green tapestry of the wall. She could not even say how she found herself clinging at his neck as her feet had left the floor, when he had lifted her. It was only the heat that pervaded her wit and senses—the heat of his fingers digging in her thighs, the burning of his body pressed between her legs. So close to him, so hungry for his taste, she could hardly put together any thought.

That dull, small room spun madly, but Darcy held her fast against the wall, against him. Desire, it seemed, served only to render them reckless. His hands worked to bare her legs from layers of skirts, greedy in their pursuit of her bare flesh, as a trail of flames was left on her neck, robbing her of her breath, as his tongue, teeth, lips went lower and lower, but his hand was creeping upwards.

Elizabeth's quiet gasp did not go unheard—nor, unfortunately, Jane's loud one.

It was Elizabeth who first got a glimpse of her sister.

Just like that, the heat was gone. Darcy sprang away from her, and the pile of untidy skirts fell to cover Elizabeth's legs back to decency. Once her feet touched the floor again, among heavy breaths and quick heartbeats echoing in her ears, the unmistakable noise of the door clicking shut echoed in the room.

Then, silence reigned.

Mortification and shame seized Elizabeth with a vicious force, so much that her eyes fell on the floor under their oppressive weight, and under the naked shock on Jane's features.

It was Darcy, her dear Mr. Darcy, who had the good sense to break the strained stillness with a bow to Jane. "There is nothing I can say, Mrs. Bingley, to apologise for what you have just witnessed."

The mistress made no answer. She—pale, shock still mudding angelic features—only moved closer to the guilty pair.

Darcy went on, "Mrs. Bingley, I can promise that such thing will never take to place again under your roof."

"What have I witnessed? Sir, I do heartily appreciate apologies, but I would rather have an explanation."

What was there to explain? Jane, as married woman, must have been familiar with she had just seen. Elizabeth chewed on her lip. "Jane—"

But the mistress of the house had eyes for the gentleman only. Impossibly red in face, Jane stood with stubborn fists clenched on her side, her gaze squarely on the man. "Sir, I understand your feelings about my sister must be hard to bear, as my husband informed you of the circumstances. You have all my sympathy, for your heart must be broken." She paused, coloured further, her eyes faltering for scant seconds, but soon she recovered: "You, sir, are a great friend to my husband and to me, indeed, but we shall never tolerate your seduction of my sister, especially not in our home."

Colour drained from Darcy's face. At that, he started and from his parted mouth, no words came.

The accusation struck Elizabeth as hard. She reached for her sister's hand. "The fault is all mine, Jane."

"Lizzy?"

"My dear Jane, if there is someone whom must be charged with such accusation is me. I beg you not to accuse Mr. Darcy of such things."

"I fail to understand, Lizzy. It is you who had just seduced him?"

Perhaps. Whatever her Mr. Darcy claimed, it was, after all, she who had locked him in a room at night and had, however awkwardly, professed love. That, however, Jane need not to know. "No. Mr. Darcy and I are engaged to be married."

"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!—Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible."

"I am not deceiving you."

"Are you truly serious, Lizzy?"

"Oh, yes," she dared to smile, and, "if a seduction took place, it was on common agreement of the parties involved, I fear."

Darcy cleared his throat. "We are betrothed, Mrs. Bingley."

"Good Heavens! Can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you!" Jane's porcelain skin disappeared in favour of a crimson shade, as she hastily turned to the gentleman. "Sir! How can I ever make amends for my words!"

"Mrs. Bingley—"

Jane bent her head in front of Darcy. "I shall never be in the position to have your forgiveness! To think so maliciously of you, I am heartily ashamed!"

Had the situation been different, Elizabeth would have a good laugh at it. The first time Jane had ever thought ill of someone in her life! And it had been with such poor timing! For all her candour, Jane had been the one to have a horrid judgement!—and, for all the championing of Mr Darcy for the last days, there was no doubt Jane was a tigress when it concerned her sister.

Darcy bowed stiffly. "Er, ma'am, such reaction is unwarranted. I comprehend how that display must have looked to your eyes. I am ashamed—"

"Oh gracious! Forgive me, sir, had I but known!" She frowned, the task of mending mistakes suspended. "Why had I not known? When had this alliance been formed?"

All Elizabeth could offer was a strained smile laden with guilt. "We have been engaged for a couple of days."

"And you have not told me?"

"No, as you now know. There is a good reason for it, you must believe me, but I shall explain to you later—I fear you may be displeased with it."

"I would not! As I am not displeased with this new intelligence. Oh, Lizzy! I am so sorry for my rudeness, but—oh! Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we believed it as impossible."

Well, that much had been abundantly clear, but such topic was better left unmentioned for now. Darcy seemed to agree, for he kept his mouth shut about it. Explanations for her silliness and pettiness, Elizabeth reasoned, could come later. No need to spoil the merriment.

"Mr. Darcy, Lizzy, I am so very happy about your alliance."

"As I am," Elizabeth grinned, her grip on Jane's cool fingers still firm. "You see Jane, when you and Charles first got engaged, you told me that I shall not marry for anything less than affection—you remember, my dear, I hope?"

"Yes, certainly."

"I guarantee you, I shall not settle for anything less than love. We shall be very happy—and even happier if we have your blessing and forgiveness—"

"You love me?"

The sisters were pulled from that elation. Darcy's stiff form stood in front of them. His dear face lacked the usual composure, if not worse.

Elizabeth frowned at him. "Mr. Darcy?"

"You have never," he said, voice thick, "mentioned love to me."

"I did not? Oh."

He stared at her in pure bewilderment. "You most certainly did not."

Darling Jane had always possessed a good dose of wisdom. "I shall leave you now." At the door, she said, "I shall return with Charles in a short time."

Left alone, Elizabeth stared at a rather mute Darcy. Had she been so foolish to omit the most important thing to speak? Days, months, she had been yearning to speak those words, torn between heartache and forlorn hope. In the pure whirlwind of the delight of present days, she had forgot.

How utterly foolish!

Her lips pressed together to struggle against the surging giggle. Instead, she went to her Mr. Darcy with a beaming face. The feeling of his cheek beneath her palm was familiar by now, as was his closeness, yet her heart still danced. "I, perhaps, do not love you as well as I should like, but I do love you. I have been loving you for the whole summer, the whole winter, even when any hope seemed inane."

His palm pressed her hand firmer against his cheek. "And I love you still, I hope you are aware of it."

"Yes." She had known, of course. Yet, she thought, the last time she had heard such tender words was at Hunsford. It seemed that Darcy, too, had been distracted. The yearning in his tone, the unbridled love underneath it, made her long for the future. She would unravel everyday in those words, in his love. "But, much like you, I should like hearing it quite often, you know."

"Always."

Upon the announcement, Bingley was momentarily stunned to muteness. Then, his joy was as great as Jane's.

Good man he was, he apologized. "Darcy, I am so sorry my opinion on the matter was so grossly wrong! My words must have broken your heart."

"You did not break my heart," the gentleman assured. "But I must say, Miss Bennet's knowledge on the matter was infinitely better than yours."

Bingley burst into a laugh. "Old dog, I hope you shall forgive me and still place your trust in me, in the future!" To his wife, he said, "Oh, my dearest, how could we be so wrong?"

"They have been engaged for some days," Jane pointed out. "We have truly been blind, I suppose—oh, we meant kindly, you must believe us, yet we have been so wrong."

Bingley frowned. "Engaged for days?"

Oh, her precious amusement really must come to an end. Elizabeth tried to smile as beatifically as her sister usually did, but, clearly, she was not as good. "Yes, Charles, I am so sorry to say I have been very exasperated by your plans to keep Mr. Darcy and myself divided,"—at this, Bingley had the good sense to colour—"we have kept it a secret for some days. To, well, to tease you."

Her sister gasped. "Lizzy!"

"Is it true, Darcy?"

"I am afraid so, Bingley."

"Oh, do not blame Mr. Darcy! It was all my fault, I assure you. I am, unfortunately, not as saintly as he is."

A bewildered Bingley cried, "But he agreed to partake to your schemes!"

"He aims to please, Charles—well, he did please me. I hope you shall consider forgiveness within your powers."

"But, Lizzy—oh, how wicked! You are always so teasing, dear and you were teasing me!"

"And me as well!" Bingley exclaimed, with a noise—incredibly—akin to an indignant huff.

"I find there is little evil in some teasing, every now and then."

Jane shook her head at Elizabeth's remark, and Bingley sighed. "Well, I suppose our bad judgement brought this upon us. As long as you forgive our interference—misguided help, I should say."

"And my accusations!" Jane cried, turning to a flushed Darcy, who promptly dismissed any concern again.

"What did you accuse him of?"

"Oh, Charles, do not force me to repeat my words!"

"I can hardly credit you had ill thoughts about anyone—and about Darcy, of all people," her husband said drolly. "And since I do not believe you truly accused him of horrible crimes at a very inconvenient time, I shall succumb to your wish of secrecy."

Poor Jane seemed to burn, so scarlet she was.

"But now everything," Elizabeth said cheerfully, "is forgiven, I hope."

Indeed, it seemed merriment obscured any guilt.

The day Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy received Mr. Bennet's blessing to marry his daughter saw yet another, bright sunshine glimmering high in the clear sky.

In Longbourn, the Bennets women were all surprise and elation. Outside, walking about the garden, the Bingleys were as happy, and already acting as chaperones for the merry couple.

Elizabeth felt the emotions as keenly. She turned to her beloved, and asked, "Are you happy?"

"Very much so," Darcy's features brightened even more. "I shall be off to town with your father's permission to claim you as my betrothed in front of the world. I have been impatient to do so for almost one year."

Her fingers squeezed the crook of his arm and a wide grin played on her lips. "Shall I expect any dreadful visit from town, then? Perhaps a lady, whose hopes have been disappointed?"

He took on a grimace. "I will allow nothing of the kind to happen, I assure you."

"Oh? Is there truly this danger?"

"Lady Catherine, I wager, shall be vexed."

"I feared some heartbroken, handsome lady in tears whose hope was to be your wife—but I think I can manage with your aunt."

He tensed, his mouth taking a distasteful turn. "I will not allow any censure towards you."

"Shall you protect me?" she purred, then burst into a laugh. "I am very well able to handle her, I should like to believe!"

His eyes softened, glinting, as his mouth inevitably curved. "I know you are uncommonly fearless."

"Such compliments!"

She threw a quick glance behind her. Bingley and Jane seemed distracted enough, busy in some talk. She dared to stand on her tiptoes and press a swift kiss to his cheek.

"Darcy!"

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Her man, however, immediately turned to his friend, red burning up to the end of his ears. "Bingley?"

"Oh! Er, I need your help."

Elizabeth huffed. "Charles—"

"Mr. Bennet informed me that Mr. Thompson has agreed to clean the pond. He, too, wishes to work to improve the panorama of the grounds!"

Elizabeth looked askance at a cheerful Bingley as he snatched her betrothed from her arm to explain the business—and he also mentioned frogs, those dreadful creatures, that would undoubtedly ruin the beauty of the horrid pond once spring would bring more warmth. Ridiculous!

Jane was happy to side with Elizabeth on the path.

"Jane, darling, it is unnecessary for you to be so vigil, I am sure—"

Jane shook her head and happily ignored Elizabeth. "My father says the pond is an utter waste, but Mr. Thompson agrees that something must be done. Charles, as you know, is not unequal to the idea. Let him hear what dear Mr. Darcy has to say about this!"

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

"And—oh, Lizzy, pray, do not look at me in such a way!"

"I hope, my dear," Elizabeth began gingerly, "you remember your engagement period."

"Lovely time! And my memory is such, I recall your being uncommonly kind with me."

And uncommonly blind, Elizabeth thought with no low degree of frustration. To think she had been happy to play the role of the distracted chaperone! That was yet another betrayal!

"And I can assure you, Lizzy, your engagement time will go so quickly, you and Mr. Darcy will barely notice."

Elizabeth's smile was thin.

"I thank you, Mrs. Nichols. If Cook is unwell, fear not. She can easily rest to-night and worry about her well-being only."

To assure further the fretting housekeeper, Jane smiled angelically.

"Oh, ma'am! I shall make sure the servants in the kitchens will present an excellent dinner all the same."

"I trust you shall do that and more, but please do not fret so!"

It took a little more assurances for the housekeeper to regain her nerves. Yet, no one could truly remain unmoved by the mistress's candour and goodness. Once the issue was resolved, Jane was free to return her attention to her main task.

Of course, they were in the library alone. Her sister and Mr. Darcy hardly had a moment together alone in these days—Mr. And Mrs. Bingley took their new duty seriously—and Jane was hardly surprised to hear their quiet voices coming in the hallway, right from the half-closed door of the library. Half-closed doors! When she had been an engaged woman, she had always kept doors open freely!

Her sister's voice came clearly, albeit low, "Jane was called by the housekeeper with a problem in the kitchens. Charles?"

"In his study with Mr. Thompson."

"We are alone."

"I can hardly believe it. Such chaperones, the Bingleys are."

Dear Jane bit her lip when Elizabeth's tone raised slightly. "I have been such a patient, kind chaperones to them! And—oh, please, do not look at me so! I only wish to have a minute with you alone. We have been so busy."

"Your relatives and neighbours deserve all our attention. As well as my hosts, my love."

"I know it! I appreciate your forbearance and your civility. Yet—oh, Fitzwilliam! Five weeks seem so long, do you not agree?"

In turn, Darcy's voice was tinged with amusement. "Eternal."

Scant seconds of silence and quiet laughter later, Elizabeth claimed, "I can hardly wait to have you at Pemberley—all for myself and for my wishes."

Darcy offered no reply, and that was enough to bring Jane forth and press the door wide open.

She found a flushed Darcy and a blushing Elizabeth. They could hardly fool a married woman and, she noted, they did not even bother to put a respectable distance between them. But Jane would never roll her eyes so openly—especially not at her sister!

"Oh, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, how fortunate, you are both here!"

Elizabeth hesitated, then, "Jane, is everything well in the kitchens?"

"Why, yes! We shall have dinner served to-night, my dear, fear not."

"Of course."

"Should you like a game of chess? I dearly wish to learn more! Will you kindly oblige me and play?"

Every person in her life knew Jane enough to praise her candid nature, her goodness. Jane would even be still ignorant of the meaning of the word vendetta, had the circumstances been different. She would not embrace something so unkind. The pettiness, the rudeness! Nothing of the kind was in her mind, truly.

Yet, she had learned—from her own, lovely sister, nonetheless—that there was little evil to be found in some teasing every now and then.

Settled between the pair at the chessboard, Jane smiled sweetly.

End