A/N I'm so sorry this took so long. If I'm not out on a research vessel at the moment, I'm in a lab or just trying to get some sleep. Life is a bit hectic right now. I hope you can forgive me, I'll try not to keep you waiting so long next time, but I can't make any promises.

To those who were disappointed by the amount of JA in the last chapter, we will be veering off back into unfamiliar territory very soon. However I have chosen tweak the necessary passages for you understand the events, without glossing over them or attempting to rewrite what is already much better than my own work. If you really can't tolerate this, feel free to skim whatever seems familiar, but you risk missing out on the little clues I plant along the way.

One of the scenes in this chapter was the whole inspiration for this story (I bet its not the one you think it is). I was a joy to finally write, and I hope I have managed to make it as delicious in print as it has been in my mind for the past two years. It's time to see a different side of Elizabeth.

Whether or not I write a fuller explanation of some of the events mentioned this chapter is largely based on whether I have written it well enough for my lovely readers to piece together on their own – so please tell me if you understand, or if you need to be told more directly.

oOoOoOo

Monday 14th November 1796

During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all, but when the servants were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for his comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect he protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank - such affability and condescension - as he had himself experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to approve of both of the discourses which he had already had the honour of preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings, and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything but affability in her. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the neighbourhood nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations.

She had even condescended to advise him to marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some herself—some shelves in the closet upstairs.

"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet, "and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?"

"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?"

"She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?"

"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."

"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court."

"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the British court of one of its brightest ornaments. Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay."

"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?"

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible."

Mr Bennet's expectations were fully answered, his cousin was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance.

"Your deference to the great Lady and her daughter does you credit; such an association must gratify you. You have remarkable connections for having lived as but a parson."

"Indeed!" cried the gentleman, "to serve at the pleasure of Lady Catherine is quite the most fulfilling opportunity. And it is a distinct honour to observe her daughter on the occasions when she rides by."

"You are taken with this Miss de Bourgh?"

"Oh no, I shall dispel any such notions at once. Not only would I, a humble parson, be far below the consideration of such nobility, it is believed that Miss de Bough and her cousin will unite their two estates in holy matrimony."

Mr Bennet shared a mischievous look with Elizabeth, having caught his daughter roll her eyes quietly, and enquired,

"Is this true, Lizzy? You had not mentioned that any of the cousins were engaged to be wed."

"My recent knowledge is that no such engagement exists, apart from in Lady Catherine's imagination." Mr Collins spluttered in confused indignation. "The cousin you refer to is, I assume, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

"Why yes, do you know of him? Do you have some connection other than myself to the family? How dare you speak of Lady Catherine with such irreverence" Mr Collins did not know which point to address first and quite tied is tongue at the quandary.

"The matter arose during my last conversation with Lord Fitzwilliam, in fact. The Earl is somewhat frustrated that Miss de Bourgh is not free to find herself a suitable match, when a betrothal to Darcy is by no means confirmed." Her eyes sparkled over the rim of her cup as she paused to take a sip. "I could not engage in idle gossip," she winked, "but much of the family consigns such notions to the fancies of the great Lady."

"The Earl? You claim an acquaintance with the Earl? Miss Elizabeth, you cannot simply-"

"Oh I do beg your pardon," Elizabeth interrupted with exaggerated civility, "I find I have to apologise for your confusion, we must have conducted our introductions ever so poorly to have left you under the misapprehension that I am a Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I shall take full responsibility for such a blunder, and I am every so embarrassed." Lizzy saw Mr Bennet suppress a chuckle; even Jane was amused by Elizabeth's excessive manners. "No, indeed, I am Mrs Richard Fitzwilliam. I am Lady Catherine de Bough's niece by virtue of my marriage to her nephew, the second son of the Earl Fitwilliam."

Despite the great quality of the spread served in the Bennet home, their guest choked on it quite the same.

oOoOoOo

Tuesday 15th November 1796

Mr Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society, the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father. Though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to marry, and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends - of atonement - for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

These plans had been dashed upon learning of his cousin Elizabeth's relation to the great Fitzwilliam family, and thus to his revered Lady Catherine. This made any marriage to the Bennet sisters, in his mind, utterly impossible. He simply could not insult Her Ladyship with any notion of intimate connection with her family, however distant such a connection would be. Nevertheless, he determined his trip should not be wasted and, knowing that an introduction to other eligible ladies of the neighbourhood would only be expediated if he ventured out with his cousins, Mr Collins was quick to agree to Mr Bennet's request to attend the sisters as they walked to Meryton. It was a situation which suited both gentlemen perfectly – Mr Bennet could be rid of him and have his library to himself, and Mr Collins could be introduced to some of the Meryton society.

All of the sisters except Mary decided to make the trip, and in pompous nothings on the side of Mr Collins, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed untill they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny who had inspired Lydia's idea to walk into Meryton that day, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under the pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, whose appearance was greatly in his favour - he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. Mr Wickham, they were informed, had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps.

It was at that moment, disrupting Elizabeth's sudden suspicions, that the pleasantries were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats, as Mr Darcy was seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the gentleman came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Mr Darcy was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn with the purpose to inquire after the family. Mr. Darcy was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth too obviously, focusing instead on making polite conversation, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger. Elizabeth, happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat - a salutation which Mr. Darcy barely deigned to return.

This was enough to confirm her suspicions. With all her easy manners but with haste nonetheless, Elizabeth exclaimed that the hats in the shop around the corner had been quite extraordinary, and Mr Collins should escort her sisters there at once, lest the shop owner realise what an error it was to display such a creation and deny them all the pleasure of a good laugh. Jane, not understanding the change in Elizabeth's countenance but wise to her sharp mind, encouraged the younger sisters to follow this direction with her usual sweet firmness such that Kitty and Lydia acquiesced.

Elizabeth turned to Mr Darcy, who had by this time dismounted his horse, and pointedly directed him to take Denny aside for a moment. Darcy opened his mouth to argue, but Elizabeth's hard stare was enough to quiet him, at least for now, and he led a befuddled Mr Denny down the street a little, though he remained close enough to listen in if he strained, and leap to her defence if necessary.

"Mrs Fitzwilliam, I do not underst-"

"You certainly lack the mind I was told you possessed, Wickham." Elizabeth's wolf-smile was full of teeth and promise. "Fitzwilliam."

Wickham's eyes widened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched visibly as he clenched it. "Mrs Fitzwilliam-"

"Oh no, Mr Wickham, now is not the time for you to speak, it is the time for you to listen. Make no mistake, I know exactly who you are – I know that you are a low-life philanderer, a vicious liar and a wastrel."

"Now excuse me! I cannot have you-"

"Wickham!" she growled, and the man fell silent. "Your presence in Meryton is neither acceptable nor tolerable to me, but I am aware that actions such as buying a Lieutenant's commission cannot be undone on a whim."

"You are surely not asking me-"

"Did I not make myself clear, Wickham? I am in control of this conversation. Do not interrupt me again."

Mr Wickham swallowed. Hard.

"Your presence in Meryton shall be temporary. Until such a time as you find a way to leave – whether you have your commission bought out or find another regiment with whom to shelter your sorry hide, I care not – you shall not speak to any of my sisters. You shall not call upon any of my relatives. You shall not approach Mr Darcy. If you happen to attend the same function as any of my family, you will leave. If you find yourself visiting upon someone at the same moment as any of my family, you find a way to excuse yourself. Immediately. Do you understand, Mr Wickham?"

"This is wholly inappropriate, how dare you dictate to me-"

"Oh Wickham," Elizabeth tutted with a sigh, "You are truly quite dense. Let me make myself perfectly clear," she leaned closer to the soldier, her sharp smile wider than her malice. She caught Darcy's anxious mien in the corner of her eye, but it only fuelled the cold fire in her voice. "If you so much as even look upon any person I love, anyone connected to me or my family – and this includes Mr Darcy – I shall bring the full force of the Fitzwilliam family down upon you.

"Darcy spared you, because of some misplaced belief that your shared childhood mattered, or to honour his blind father, I know not which. I shall show no such mercy. You have lied, you have cheated and you have hurt the people I hold most dear. Give me a reason, Wickham-"

A bead of sweat formed on Mr Wickham's brow as, for the first time since she started talking, he was truly still.

"Give me a reason."

Their proximity was finally too much for Mr Darcy, and he abandoned Mr Denny abruptly – though the soldier was perfectly content to make himself scarce, after the oddity of the afternoon – to return to where the couple were stood. He reached them just as Elizabeth leaned in and said in a low voice with all the calm of the centre of a storm,

"Rattling a sabre makes noise, Wickham. Drawing it does not. If you put one foot out of line, you shall not see the consequences coming," Elizabeth took Darcy's arm and turned away, as though exiting a perfectly cordial conversation. But she stopped, just for a moment, and turned back to the man she despised most in the world,

"Until your world comes crashing down around you."

oOoOoOo

As they retreated, retrieving Mr Darcy's horse on the way, the gentleman began to speak, once, twice, but the words in his mind the failed to form in his mouth. Elizabeth laid her hand on his forearm comfortingly and bade him wait until his agitation had settled. She then gathered her sisters and encouraged them to make haste to their aunt's lest the sweet treats were all gone by the time they arrived, but informed them that she had remembered an urgent matter she must attend to at home so would not be joining them. Mr Darcy waited patiently for Elizabeth to finish then, reins in hand, the three of them began the walk back to Longbourn – Mr Darcy, Mrs Fitzwilliam and the horse.

They remained in tense quiet for several minutes, until Mr Darcy spoke with sudden vigour,

"I never second guessed myself so much as when Wickham re-entered my life this summer. I had always been so self-assured before. I thought that if I acted with all the principles my parents instilled in me, I would surely make the right decisions. But Wickham returned and I-"

He choked on his feelings as they poured from him.

"You ask yourself what you could have done differently, if you could have warned her of the boy she once knew, or taught her to be a cynic-"

"Taught her not to trust, told her that people show their good and hide their evil-"

"Wonder if you should have protected her by choosing a different time, or place-"

"If I should have simply been there more."

Their silence was heavy and breathless.

"You could not have known, Darcy. None of us could."

"But you did know!" Mr Darcy cried out in great pain. "It was only your express which allowed me to arrive in time to end the whole sorry affair. She told me nothing, I knew nothing. She thought she had found the love of her life and she wrote to her dead cousin's widow instead of her brother."

Elizabeth rubbed away the pang of grief in her chest and blinked thought tears of guilt.

"You are right, it was not fair that she turned to me instead of you. And I should have spotted the signs sooner, should have questioned her feelings sooner, instead of dismissing each mention of her affections as fleeting fancy. If I had asked for his name but one week earlier, I might have lessened her heartache just a little."

"You cannot think that, Mrs Fitzwilliam." Darcy grasped her hand fervently. "You must never be ashamed of your actions, the very actions which saved Georgiana from the worst kind of misery. I only have myself to blame that she did not confide in me herself. I have spent too much time away from her: I was at university, I sent her away to school, I abandoned her to go to Ireland-"

"No!" cried Elizabeth, "no. I shall not have you blame yourself in such a manner. There was no abandonment, none of the sort. The Earl asked you to act on his behalf, he trusted you to be his ambassador during that dreadful business, and you fulfilled your duty to him to the best of your ability. In leaving for those months, you gave me the opportunity to mourn and celebrate Richard in beautiful Pemberley, with our dear Georgiana for comfort. If you had not tasked me with acting as her companion until you returned, I should have gone mad, all alone with little John at Somerford. If must feel guilty about anything, please, do not let it be that."[1]

"Nevertheless, she could confide in you and she could not confide in me. That fact, and the consequences of it, shall haunt me for the rest of my days. This summer changed my sister, and it changed me too."

"The past few years have not been kind to us," Elizabeth agreed.

They walked in silence for much of the remainder of their journey. It was not so much companionable as it was empathetic, a silence filled with a mutual understanding of the guilt and grief of the other. As Longbourn came into view Elizabeth observed,

"It feels fateful. Like destiny"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Has it not struck you as bizarre that our lives have been intertwined for years and yet we have only just met?" she pondered. "I know your family well, I am the closest confidante of your sister, I have lived at your estate for many months, and yet we did not even share a room until the assembly. You were much occupied with social obligations or your duties for the Earl in Ireland, or I was simply elsewhere. It is so unusual – as though the hand of God kept us apart until now."

Mr Darcy's eyes had not left her face, so captivated was he by her sentiment. He disentangled their arms and raised as hand as though to touch her curls, but her bonnet and his thumping heart stopped him short.

"I think perhaps," he paused uncertainly, "I think perhaps we were kept apart so that we would find each other at just the right time. You- I- it has brought me great happiness to have met you."

"And I you. I only wish that dear Richard was still her to have introduced us." Elizabeth smiled softly as she touched the necklace she had been gifted seemingly lifetimes ago. "It was his fondest wish that we would all be family, together."

"Richard, yes," Darcy coughed, "Richard."

oOoOoOo

[1] This is where I get to say: I told you to trust me.

In the real world, Earl Fitzwilliam was made the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1794. At the beginning of 1795 he travelled to Ireland in an attempt to get a grip on the situation (the history of the relationship between England and Ireland is far too complex to cover in one footnote – sufficed to say, it was complicated, messy and regularly fatal for many involved). Our fictional Earl made a different decision, sending his trusted nephew to conduct business on his behalf. To fit with the story, I am placing this trip in the autumn of 1795 rather the at start, and taking Georgiana out of school a little earlier, allowing her to have a break at Pemberley before "an establishment was formed for her in London".