This is the rough draft of What Lingers in the Heart. The official, fully edited and revised version is available on Amazon and all major ebook retailers. ARC copies are on Booksprout dot co, search by author name/title, or you may email me for a link. authorallisonsmith

"This is the fairest weather we have enjoyed all spring, Lizzy," Jane said, staring dreamily up at the blue sky. "It will be a perfect day."

Elizabeth smiled at her elder sister's enthusiasm. "If it is not perfect, then at least it will be tolerable."

Jane reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. "I know this has been a poor week for you."

"A walk in the sunshine was a good idea. I am happy you persuaded me."

It had indeed been a gray week. Her family was used to her bouts of quiet somberness, but poor Jane never quite forgot how her sister once been, before.

Five years before.

Elizabeth was determined to ease Jane's worry. Though she was no longer the excessively sunny, carefree girl she had once been, that was all for the better, under the circumstances. She was much stronger than her sister realized, and if she still suffered the occasional descent into poor spirits, these days there were many months when all was well and every dreary cloud did not remind her of her terrible mistake.

They spoke little on the walk into Meryton, but then they were both relieved to enjoy the exercise without the company of their younger sisters, particularly Lydia, who refused to believe in the beneficial nature of companionable silence.

"Oh!" Jane exclaimed. "I forgot…I heard news of soldiers stationed in town."

Elizabeth's brows rose. "In regimentals?" Mischief stirred. "Now that will be a treat. We shall have to lock Kitty and Lydia in their rooms, for they will be beside themselves when they hear of militia."

Jane laughed, though she winced. "I fear it will be an officer or ruin for Lydia." She snapped her mouth shut. "Oh…Lizzy. Forgive me, I did not mean…"

Elizabeth smiled. "I am not so fragile, that the mention of ruin will destroy my happy spirits. It has been five years, Jane. My heart is healed."

She had not suffered a broken heart, not quite. A girlish infatuation with a young man who had been a childhood friend had ended in near disaster. Only through the interference of another young man whom she had also called friend, had Elizabeth avoided an elopement to Gretna Green with her would be suitor. For two years after, resentment over the interference festered. The now older, wiser Elizabeth was more philosophical and even grateful, though she would never be able to express her gratitude. Now, she regretted the loss of that happy childhood triumvirate instead, realizing how rare their golden, nearly bosom friendship had been. They had run the forests together like wild things, until nature betrayed her and both young men eventually realized Elizabeth was no longer a girl. That was when trouble began, though in her innocence it had taken her many months to realize the subtle maturing of the relationship between the three had been on account of the romantic designs of one young man, and the. . .well, to this day, Elizabeth still did not fully fathom the other.

"Let us not talk of things past," Jane said. "I am determined to enjoy the day, look my fill of handsome soldiers, and choose the proper trimmings for our new hats."

"I, too, am determined." Elizabeth banished all memories of her past, refusing to once again linger on why her thoughts seemed to always turn more towards the young man who had prevented her elopement, rather than her would be bridegroom who should be the one she felt the most regret over losing.

They entered town smiling and laughing at small things, the shadow of the past forcibly forgotten. And in truth, despite the ruin of her reputation in their old home in Derbyshire, and despite how her heart still occasionally ached to return, all was well. Longbourn was a tolerable alternative, the quiet society of twenty and four families suited her parents just fine and the regular assemblies suited her sisters just as well. Elizabeth had managed to replace the constant, dear companionship of her two lost childhood friends with new. Charlotte was as dear to her now as William and George once had been.

They lingered in the shop, debating the merits of fruit versus flowers to trim their hats. The flowers were less expensive, though there was a certain playfulness to fruit. Elizabeth made her choices, preferring a quieter style than Jane, who despite her reserved nature did enjoy more frivolous hats, likely as a mode of expressing the more lively side of her nature she rarely let escape.

Exiting the shop, Elizabeth was about to suggest a stop at the baker's to choose a pastry to share on the walk home when Jane grabbed her arm and firmly turned her in the opposite direction.

"Jane!"

Her sister began speaking rapidly, nearly stuttering before she exerted visible calm over herself and smiled tremulously. "I am famished, Lizzy. Let us return home and see if there is a bite to be had before dinner."

"Oh, well I was just about to suggest we choose a…now this is just…why are we walking so quickly?" Elizabeth dug her heels in, staring at her sister, baffled. "Whatever is the matter with you? Pulling me along like I am a child on leading strings."

Jane glanced over her shoulder, smile tightening, then jerked her gaze back to Elizabeth's. Elizabeth frowned and turned, looking in the direction her sister quite obviously wanted them to avoid.

Jane sighed. "Please, let us just go home."

"I really do not understand the fuss…" Elizabeth trailed off. There was a group of three soldiers lingering outside the tavern, talking and laughing with good-natured camaraderie. She glanced over them once, then took a second, longer look as dark golden locks and a brilliant smile stung her recollection.

"Oh, no," she breathed. "It cannot be."

A tall man with lean shoulders and a rakish cast to his expression stood several lengths away, a familiar mischievous cast to his face and posture. Not a malicious mischievousness, but a purely selfish and irrepressible boyish selfishness. The kind that had embroiled Elizabeth into a multitude of scrapes growing up in Derbyshire.

"George," she said, taking a step forward. "It is George."

"No, Elizabeth," Jane said firmly. "You cannot. Let the past remain where it is."

She shook her sister off. "The past is here, and standing in front of my face. I will not ignore it. He must have news of home." News she craved. The craving rising ferociously in her breast, proving that all her attempts to grind feelings into the dust had been in vain. He would have news of Derbyshire, and of . . .William, too, perhaps.

"We are home, Lizzy."

The man glanced in Elizabeth's direction, the casual perusal of a person simply taking in his surroundings. At first, as Elizabeth had done, his gaze passed over her. And then it flickered back and a frown dimmed his smile. Glancing at Jane, who continued attempts to pull Elizabeth along, his eyes widened in shock.

They would be grey eyes, dark and cloudy like a rainy day.

"Remember what our family went through, Elizabeth," Jane said. "We had to leave our home, our friends. You did not speak for weeks."

She remembered very well. Remembered the foiled elopement and Will's anger and her father and Mr. Darcy's break of friendship. All because she had allowed Mr. Darcy's stepson to talk her into marrying against their parents' wishes. Elizabeth's dowry was modest for their class, a mere £8,000. The elder Mr. Darcy had wanted more than a country gentleman's daughter for his stepson, even though Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy were good friends.

And Will. Will had been livid. Jealous, and livid.

"I cannot unsee him, and he will not unsee me," Elizabeth said. "No one here knows."

"Yet."

"Ever, unless we or he speaks of it." George was already striding towards them.

Elizabeth waited, a cloud passing overhead to dim the bright sun as he approached. She shivered. Was it an ill potent? That was ridiculous, and she was far too old for such nonsense.

"Lizzy," George said when he drew close. "It is you."

His voice was different. Deeper, an edge of gravity that she and Will had despaired of him ever attaining. Always into some fresh, mad scheme, never serious.

"Yes, it is I." She did not smile. How could she? "You are an…" How baffling. An officer. Of all the ends she had imagined for him, one that required work and discipline had never occurred to her. It gave Elizabeth a niggle of hope that the years had matured him.

"Officer. Yes." He stared at her, seeming at a loss for words. How unexpected. George Wickham, at a loss for words.

"And Jane." Belatedly, he bowed and the sisters both started, making their curtsies. And then he smiled. "How ridiculous this is. We searched for you for months after father let us return home. And you've been here…the whole time?"

"Yes." Elizabeth knew who the 'us' must be, of course, and the words were on the tip of her tongue to inquire, but she held back.

"My God." He shook his head. "Now we are all such serious, grown-up creatures, bowing and saying how do you do."

"We have not actually said how do you do?"

He snorted, taking a step closer.

"I think that is quite close enough, sir," Jane said crisply.

George glanced at her, expression turning roguish. "Do not fret, dear Janie. I shan't elope with Lizzy here in broad daylight."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply. That he could joke on it so easily was all Wickham. "One attempt was enough, I assure you."

His face creased in an exaggerated expression of hurt. "What? Now that we have found each other again, you will refuse to wed? Are we not a modern day Romeo and Juliet?"

"You are incorrigible. My father is going to be furious you are here." She turned to Jane. "We cannot tell Papa."

"Well, why not?" Wickham demanded. "Let bygones be bygones. We are all grown up now, the foibles of passionate youth behind us."

"Except," she said, eyeing him, "I have a feeling the only foible behind you is the one from just last week."

He grinned. "I swear I have been on the up and up every since our brush with disaster."

Did he mean a near marriage to her was disaster...or being foiled in the attempt was disaster? Elizabeth smoothed her expression rather than let him see her irritation. But despite the shock of seeing him and the inevitable twinge of hurt, she sensed a lightening of the bindings around her innermost heart, an easing of the old pain. Faced with an all grown up and still flippant George—if she was any judge of character and how in the world was he managing a career in the militia?—her conclusion of having had a fortuitous escape was confirmed.

"I cannot imagine the travails the poor woman you marry will go through," Elizabeth said, thinking aloud.

He pressed a hand to his chest. "I am hurt. Here I was hoping to convince you to try your hand at it again. The same reason applies now as before."

She sighed. "Go on with you, George. You may have convinced a fifteen-year-old girl it was her duty to save you from the world with her modest fortune, but you will never convince the spinster."

George grinned. "Well, as long as I know you forgive me, Lizzy, I shan't be desolate."

"You have not been desolate a day in your life."

"Elizabeth, we should go," Jane said.

George glanced at Jane, then grabbed Elizabeth's hand and pulled her away several feet, just like they were children again. "The dragon glares," he whispered quickly, "tell me you will meet me alone later."

Elizabeth drew back in surprise, tugging at her hand. "Are you mad, George Wickham! We are not children anymore, you cannot just grab me…"

He released her hand, looking annoyed. "Just ten minutes. Where do you live, is there a quiet tree or a bridge?"

"I am not meeting you in private, George. The last time—"

He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder as several of his comrades called out. "Ten minutes. I need to talk to you, Lizzy. Your father took you away in the dead of night, no note. We never even said goodbye."

"No, and you look like you have not slept a day ever since."

He grinned, unperturbed by the heavy sarcasm in her voice and glanced at Jane, who had had enough.

"Elizabeth, let us go, now."

Air hissed through Elizabeth's teeth. Wickham's eyes pleaded, though he could not hold the expression for long without a bit of his customary mirth intruding.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well. Where are you quartered? I will send you a note."

Jane waited patiently, albeit a tad thinner lipped than usual, until Elizabeth was done arranging the delivery of the note. He bowed and stored of with a jaunty skip in his step, not at all like an officer should walk.

"I know I cannot dissuade you when you have that look in your eyes, Lizzy. But at least allow Charlotte or I to accompany you? Think of what might happen."

Elizabeth could not, in good conscience, dismiss Jane's worries. "No one here knows of the history between George and I, and even were someone to come upon us as we spoke, that is not enough fodder to do any damage to my reputation. I promise I will only speak with him a few short moments."

"But why, Lizzy?"

She sighed. "I do care for him still. I would like to know that he is well. I suppose I feel guilt I did not handle him better—there is no doubt I was the more sensible of us though he the more brave."

"Elizabeth Bennet, you are not to blame for George Wickham wheedling you into an attempted elopement! You were fifteen, and he already a young man of twenty-one."

"Twenty-one," she retorted, "is approximately thirteen in boy years."

The quip coaxed a reluctant smile from Jane's worried mouth and then she laughed. "So true. Though, the other one, I recall. . ."

Elizabeth's own smile faded as she thought. "William? I do not believe William was ever merely thirteen."

Fitzwilliam Darcy. She would never admit to Jane the real reason she would brave George's company. For news, any word, of the third of their former triumvirate.