Section I, Next Section

Prologue

lizabeth read her aunt's letter for the third time, yet again finding the contents beyond her comprehension. Darcy had found Wickham. Darcy had paid Wickham's debts and provided a substantial settlement. Darcy had arranged the marriage of Wickham to her sister, Lydia. Why? Why would Mr. Darcy involve himself in a situation so abhorrent, so distasteful? To remedy an evil as he had implied? Or was there a more compelling reason, as her aunt had suggested? She thought back through their relationship, if it could be called such. Mr. Darcy's first words, within her hearing, were burned into her memory, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me." Her cheeks were flushed with high color at the thought. And then, when she had received the news of Wickham and Lydia...Mr. Darcy had left her presence as soon as possible, and she could not blame him. He had looked so serious...so disgusted? How was she to know that he had immediately made arrangements to find Wickham himself? From the first, their relationship had been based on misunderstandings and prejudice. And now, her aunt was admonishing her to invite her to Pemberley... She could not, would not allow herself to think in that direction until...if she ever saw Mr. Darcy again.

Elizabeth turned her thoughts to the recent visit by the newlyweds with great distaste. She was thankful that Wickham and Lydia were to make their home far to the north, too far for a regular exchange of visits. If God was kind, Lydia would occasionally visit the family alone. Despite her bravado, Lydia had not looked well. Elizabeth was concerned about her sister's cough --- probably some malady she acquired in that over-crowded, miserable section of London where she and Wickham had been found.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an inordinate amount of noise occasioned by a visit from Aunt Philips, and she rushed downstairs and into the middle of the conversation.

"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister," Mrs. Bennet was saying. "Well, so much the better. Not that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again..."

Miss Jane Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming, without changing colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said, "I saw you look at me today, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present report; and I know I appeared distressed." She was stopped for a moment, by a fit of coughing. "But...but don't imagine that it was from any silly cause," she finished somewhat breathlessly. "The news does not affect me either with pleasure or pain..." another spasm of coughing. Lizzy leaned forward in concern, but Jane soon pulled herself together. "I am glad of one thing, that he comes alone; because we shall see less of him. Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people's remarks."

Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Every indication Mr. Bingley had given at Pemberley, was much in Jane's favor. Had he come with...or without... his friend's sanction? She was startled by an especially violent fit of coughing coming from Jane's corner of the room and hastened over to her. "Jane, you are unwell, let me help you to lay down," she said, suiting actions to words. She could feel the unnatural warmth through her sister's clothing.

Jane allowed her ministrations and mumbled, "I begin to be sorry that he comes at all. It would be nothing. I could see him with perfect indifference..." Her voice faded away and she gave herself up to the battle beginning to rage inside her.

Three days passed, three days when the Bennet family did not give Mr. Bingley's impending arrival even one thought, for dear Jane was very ill, fighting for her life. On the same day that they received a letter from Lydia, saying that she had the influenza but was now on the mend, the diagnosis was confirmed by the Bennet's doctor. Yes, Lydia must have carried the influenza virus with her from London, where it was near epidemic proportions, and yes, this is what kept Jane in her bed, and Lizzy in constant vigil at her side.

There was a knock on the front door, and Lizzy could hear voices, then the closing of the door. She glanced out of the window from Jane's bedroom and could see Mr. Bingley... and... and Mr. Darcy just walking away. But she could not give them another thought as Jane called for her.

Soon it became a daily routine for Mr. Bingley to call at the Bennet home, to inquire as to Miss Bennet's health, and to leave fresh flowers for her. One day, he was lucky enough to have the door answered by Miss Elizabeth Bennet, whose appearance took him aback. She was obviously very tired, but spared a smile for him. "I think, Mr. Bingley, that if you pray for sunshine tomorrow, you will find Miss Bennet in the garden, for just a few minutes at about this time."

Charles' heart gave a leap and he bestowed upon Lizzy a smile of deepest gratitude. Then he handed her the daily sprig of flowers, and left on much lighter feet than he had come.

Lizzy was true to her word. Miss Bennet was in the garden when Charles came to call. He was unaccompanied, as Mr. Darcy had returned to London for a few days. Lizzy left them alone for a few minutes while she walked among the roses and pinched off the dead flower heads. She loved roses, but had not had much time to appreciate them lately. Several of the bushes had bloomed profusely over the last couple of weeks, and no one had been there to see them. The thought touched her with some sadness, until she realized that roses did not need the appreciation of a human being to be perfect, divine...they just were. She was lucky that they shared their miracle with her as often as they did. 'Ouch!' She glanced down at the sudden well of blood where a thorn had torn at her skin. 'Not without a price!' she declared ruefully.

She glanced over at the young couple. Bingley was giving his adieus, so Lizzy returned to Jane's side. As Bingley walked out of sight, Jane turned to her sister with some air of complacency. "Now that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly easy. I know my own strength and I shall never be embarrassed again by his coming. Soon it will be seen, on both sides, that we meet only as common and indifferent acquaintance."

"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth laughing. Her laugh turned into a cough, but she shook her head at Jane, "It is nothing," she said, "Oh Jane, take care."

"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now."

"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with you as ever."

The next day, it seemed particularly warm to Elizabeth. She had been coughing more frequently, much to her irritation --- she was made of stronger stuff than Jane! Thankfully, Mr. Bingley was there to amuse her sister, so that Lizzy could have a few moments rest. This time Jane and Charles toured the garden, while Elizabeth sat on the bench. And that is where Lady Catherine deBourgh found her. Lizzy began to feel dizzy, light-headed, and could only make sense of part of what her visitor was saying. Something about Mr. Darcy... about Mr. Darcy and her being engaged? Wait, no... he is meant for Anne? Lady Catherine was demanding that she promise to never marry Darcy? The tone of voice revived Elizabeth for a few minutes, and she pulled herself together enough to let Lady Catherine deBourgh know that she would not promise to not marry her nephew, Darcy. Then the feelings of suffocation overwhelmed her and she blacked out, slumping over on the stone bench, much to Lady Catherine's disapproval.

Mr. Bennet looked at the postmark on the letter he had just received. What did Mr. Collins want now? The father sighed, and rubbed his eyes dejectedly. His dear sweet Lizzy, his favorite child, was upstairs battling an especially virulent case of influenza. He felt helpless. What could he do? The doctor had been and gone, Jane was still too weak to be of much help, and Mrs. Bennet was in a constant state of vapors in her own room. Mary and Kitty were doing what they could, but it did not seem to be enough. Mr. Bennet tore open the letter angrily and scanned the contents. He straightened up in his chair. 'What's this? Lizzy and Darcy are engaged? What foolishness is this man up to now? Where did he get such an idea?' He balled the paper up and stuffed it in his pocket. 'Would that Lizzy were engaged to Mr. Darcy, if it meant that she were well and happy,' Mr. Bennet cried to himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. A very pale Jane entered the room. Mr. Bennet looked up questioningly, but Jane shook her head. She approached the desk and covered his hand with her own. "Father, she...Lizzy is asking for Mr. Darcy." Jane looked bewildered but determined to do what she could to alleviate her sister's suffering. Mr. Bennet did not respond. His mind was numb. Jane persisted, "Mr. Darcy is at Netherfield...we could send for him...do you think...?"

Mr. Darcy was there within the hour. Upstairs. Eyes adjusting to a dimly lit room. "Oh my God! My Elizabeth!" he cried out involuntarily. He rushed to her side and took up one frail hand. He could not believe the change in her. Her hair was...was turning white from the fever. She was so pale, so deathly pale...listless. The blood in the bowl at her arm was a startling contrast. Darcy almost swooned when he saw her lifeblood dripping into that pan.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open at his touch. "M...Mr. Darcy," she smiled weakly, "I...must thank you for what you have done for our family..." She coughed weakly.

"Oh my dearest, Elizabeth...if you must thank me... thank me for your own sake. I was thinking only of you." His eyes glistened as he looked into her eyes, her unforgettable eyes.

She tried to speak again, but it was an effort. Darcy stopped her words with a light touch of his fingers. "Dear Elizabeth, please rest. We will talk of happier days when you are recovered... if you wish...?" he added wistfully.

Elizabeth gave him a tremulous but definite nod of her head which gave him reason to hope, more than he had expected, or thought he deserved. "My...my behavior was unpardonable, and merits the severest reproof..." he whispered humbly.

Lizzy looked long into his eyes, gathering strength from what she saw there. "My own conduct," she whispered back, "was... inexpressibly painful to me..." She laughed weakly. "We are our own worse enemies!" she giggled, her head spinning from the exertion. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, feeling more alive than she had felt in days.

From that moment, Darcy kept constant vigil. He had Mary and Kitty hopping all day long, keeping Elizabeth clean, dry, and comfortable. He fed her the broth himself, and when Lizzy was sleeping, he engaged Jane in long conversations, as they both poured out their hearts. At first, Mrs. Bennet was determined to hate Mr. Darcy, and to disapprove of his authoritarian manners when it came to taking care of Lizzy, but Mr. Bennet would have none of it. He fingered Mr. Collins' letter speculatively, and arrived at the conclusion that he may have underestimated his relative.

More than once, Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy shared the vigil at Elizabeth's bedside. One night the elder man had admonished Darcy to get some rest while he could --- he looked terrible, haggard --- but he would not do it. He looked at Mr. Bennet with tortured eyes, "All of my happiness is right there, Mr. Bennet." He pointed toward Elizabeth who lay sleeping restlessly. "I must be here in case she needs me." After that, they waited and watched in silence, but Mr. Bennet's esteem grew boundless for this young man, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were proven correct in everything they had said about Darcy. If Elizabeth deserved the finest, then this was he.

The danger was finally past and Lizzy was beginning to get her strength back. It would be a long road to recovery...especially without Mr. Darcy there to keep everyone in line. Jane and Charles said that he had been unexpectedly called back to London, but he had provided for fresh flowers daily, as a reminder of his love, with a note signed 'Your William.'

Finally, Lizzy was well enough to sit upright at a sunny window. She could see Jane and Charles outside, intent on their own conversation. Suddenly Jane collapsed into tears...and it looked as though Charles was joining her. Elizabeth was more than alarmed at this sight. She tried to get up, to go out to them, but did not have the strength. She rapped at the window feebly, but persistently. They looked up, startled. Charles ran off toward Netherfield, and Jane ran inside and upstairs to her room, without coming in to see Lizzy.

"Jane! Jane!" Lizzy cried plaintively. Finally Jane, accompanied by their father, came into where Elizabeth sat waiting impatiently. She looked at their pale, hurt expressions... they could not meet her eyes. She began to panic. "What is it? Is it Mr. Darcy? TELL ME!" she demanded.

Jane ran to her and collapsed in her lap, sobbing. "Oh Lizzy, Lizzy, I am so sorry..."

Mr. Bennet came forward at Lizzy's searching look. She had never seen so many emotions play over her father's face...never. He cleared his throat, then took her hand, and looked straight into her eyes. "Elizabeth... Lizzy... Mr. Darcy has not been here because he has been ill ... the... the influenza is touching everyone. He became over-tired...."

"Mr. Darcy is ill? I must go to him. I must be with him!" Lizzy exclaimed in great agitation.

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "Mr. Darcy succumbed last night. I am sorry," he said, in a voice that sounded as lifeless as a tomb.

Elizabeth shook Jane by the shoulders, made her look at her. "Jane! Jane, you must tell me..." she cried out.

Jane finally raised her head and Elizabeth could see the truth in her eyes. She was so overwhelmed, the pressure was so great, that she could not utter a sound for some minutes, then she screamed a loud, drawn-out, "NOOOOOOO!!!! William! William, come back!"

It was two long days and two long nights before Elizabeth struggled back to consciousness and became aware of her surroundings. She looked like a wraith, a hollowed eyed ghoul... but Jane did not look much better. Jane was sitting in a nearby chair, book fallen to her lap, as she dozed.

"Where did the flowers come from?" Elizabeth whispered hoarsely through clenched teeth.

Jane started awake and Elizabeth repeated the question. Jane looked down at her hands which were turning the book round and round in her lap. She looked up, "Mr. Darcy knew that he was unwell, but did not want to abandon you. He felt that your recovery was imminent. He never gave up on your...your strength and will. He hoped that his love accounted for a part of your resolve to get well, and did not want you to have a relapse by worrying about him. He signed several of the notes while he had the strength and asked Charles and myself to carry out his wishes."

"But, William was so strong... so vital... how could he die?" A thought occurred to her. "It was my fault!" she cried bitterly. "He gave all his strength to me...me! If he had not come here.. if he had not stayed by my side..." She covered her face with her hands. "Oh Jane!" she wailed, rocking back and forth.

Lizzy was in a relapse, going into a downward spiral, willing herself to die... to be with William. She wanted to die. No one could reach her, no words could comfort her.

Lizzy floated in and out of consciousness. She felt light...pleasantly warm...she felt herself melting into the feeling... Strong arms held her, "William, William," she murmured. She heard his voice...didn't she?

"Lizzy! Lizzy!" came Mrs. Gardiner's voice, strident with worry. Jane had written to their aunt as a last resort, and she had arrived this morning. She shook Elizabeth gently. Lizzy's eyes fluttered open, then rolled back into her head, but Mrs. Gardiner did not give up. Jane could not stand to watch; she ran out of the room, sobbing.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Gardiner opened the door and requested two cups of tea. Lizzy was conscious now and would be okay. Her aunt would stay with her and take care of her.

Lizzy allowed her aunt to give her a little of the tea. She mumbled Mrs. Gardiner's words as though they were a mantra, "William loved me. He was where he wanted to be. He could not have been anywhere else." For the first time in days, she felt some of the guilt lift from her heart and allowed William's love to suffuse over her, to give her strength, if not purpose. She cried and cried until she did not think she could cry anymore, and then she cried again. Her aunt's presence gave her much comfort, and she was gradually able to pull herself together.

Finally one day, she said, "I must go to Pemberley."

"I know that you must," Mrs. Gardiner replied, reinforcing the rightness of her decision. "I will accompany you. But first you must get some of your strength back."

It was early October before Lizzy could travel. She and her aunt sent ahead to make arrangements for their stay at the inn in Derbyshire, the same one they had used long, long ago. Then they were on their way. The weather was damp, dreary, reflecting their spirits. Neither woman said very much. What was there to say?

When they arrived in Derbyshire, they freshened up at the inn, then continued the last leg of their journey, before they lost their courage. The wheels of the carriage whispered along the drive, carrying them through a fine mist to the doors of Pemberley. There was a black wreath on the door. Elizabeth clutched at her throat and stifled a sob, then turned to her aunt. "Please wait here for me," she said resolutely; she left the carriage, and took the last few steps on her own.

A uniformed butler answered the knock and soon returned to say, "I am sorry, but Miss Darcy is not at home, to you, Miss Bennet." He hesitated. "Lady Catherine deBourgh has asked me to tell you that the family is in mourning and is not in a position to answer social calls." He looked rather askance, but withdrew and closed the door firmly behind him.

Elizabeth did not know what to do, or where to turn. She stumbled back to the waiting carriage, and as she began to step in, she heard someone approach on horseback. "Colonel Fitzwilliam!" she breathed out, reaching toward him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked worn and serious, very much aged from the last time they had seen each other. He was visibly startled at Elizabeth's appearance, but made a halfhearted attempt to greet the women with some cordiality, and listened to Elizabeth's explanation of what had happened when she knocked on the door.

"Georgiana is prostrate with grief and has not been seeing anyone," he explained. "And I don't think it would be well to force your presence on Lady Catherine --- perhaps in a few months."

"May I at least see the...grave?" Elizabeth asked haltingly.

The colonel looked deeply into her eyes, into her pain. He nodded mutely. "Follow that path," he gestured. "Would you like me to come with you?"

Elizabeth shook her head, and held an arm out to stop Mrs. Gardiner from accompanying her also. "I would rather go alone," she whispered.

The rain held off as she made her way slowly along the path. Here and there were rose bushes, mostly colorless now. But she saw one last rose of summer that she bent down to pick. The thorns were rough on her hands, but she was determined to claim this last gift. She found the family headstones...it was easy to pick out the most recent addition. Numbly she stumbled forward. Her legs could not support her anymore. She reached out for William's headstone as she sank to the ground. Her blood, from the thorns, streaked down the face of the stone, through the name "Fitzwilliam Darcy." The rain began in earnest, washing away her blood... as though it had never been. That was how she felt... her love and Darcy's had been so fragile, so ephemeral. No! That was not true! "William, William," she sobbed. "I will love you forever..."

A figure swathed in black, yards of material buffeted by the wind and rain, approached Elizabeth as she knelt at Darcy's grave and watched as she tenderly lay the rose at the base of the headstone. Elizabeth stiffened as she felt someone there, behind her. She turned, and the two women who loved Darcy best fell into each other's arms.

Chapter One

"Clever, haughty, reserved, fastidious, well-bred..." Fitz had heard each of those words applied to his friend and business partner, William Austen.

He glanced at the couple who sat across the aisle from him. There was William, in standard Dockers and polo shirt... "business casual". Fitz looked down at his own name-brand jeans, t-shirt, and Italian leather sandals. William disapproved of the sandals and, personally, would not be caught wearing anything less formal than loafers. That's why they were a good combination - their business attracted a mixed clientele - and "Fitz & William" could offer something for everyone.

Fitz laughed to himself as he caught the expression on William's face. A long-legged brunette beauty was seated next to William and was trying to monopolize his attention...as she had been trying to do from the moment the airplane had started down the runway.

Fitz shook his head, 'Carol will never learn: Smart men do not mess around with their friends' sisters --- no matter how insistent the sister is!' Thank God, Carol Bing was not his sister. 'Charley Bing must be a saint to put up with someone like Carol - no wonder he moved to London.' Fitz had never met siblings who were so dissimilar.

Well, not much longer and William and Fitz could deliver Carol safely into the hands of her brother and sister-in-law. Fitz had met Mrs. Bing only once before, two years ago. During their honeymoon, Charley had brought Janet to Chicago to meet the gang. She was a pretty little thing with that famous English complexion, and seemed well-suited to Charley's easy-going, puppy dog personality. A little too retiring for Fitz...he was attracted to women who showed a little more spirit.

Fitz drummed his fingers impatiently. It was hard for him to sit still for very long. He was used to having a cell phone to his ear and a laptop at his fingertips. William and Charley called him the "wheeler and dealer" of the firm. William lent it the air of respectability, and Charley was "Mr. Congeniality." He could talk an old lady out of her false teeth and have her thank him for the pleasure, if he'd a mind to --- but he didn't. Charley was the boy-next-door, honest as the day is long. With their disparate personalities, it seemed hard to believe that the three men had been best friends for so long. It was strange, but somehow, they just "clicked," as though they had known each other forever.

That's why it had been so hard on them all when Charley moved to London and married Janet. But, if there was such a thing as "love at first sight," those two were proof of it, and anyone who saw them together knew it, too. Fitz sighed...it was about time 'Uncle Fitz' and 'Uncle William' met little Charley Jr. --- he was already a year old. 'I hope he likes Winnie the Pooh.' His secretary had assured Fitz that the toy would be a big hit with the child.

Fitz' mind wandered back to the business at hand, and the reason for this trip. Barbra, a very important client and repeat customer, with a reputation for being very difficult, wanted to lease an English country manor for a couple of months. With all the business she threw their way, she deserved and received personal attention. So, when Charley found this place in Derbyshire, Fitz and William had decided to combine business with pleasure and fly over to see it for themselves. It sounded very promising...and it even had a suitable-sounding name, "Pemberley." Thank God for the recent surge of movies based on classic English novels. After "Much Ado About Nothing" it had been a real nightmare to fill all the requests for Italian villas that were suitably ancient but still provided all the amenities.

Fitz shook his head, "People!" he shrugged. He scrunched down farther into his seat and tried to catch a few winks while there was still time.

Chapter 1 Continued

William cringed as another cough reverberated through the cabin. This time it was the flight attendant. "You would think first class would offer some kind of protection from the ills of the masses," he muttered.

"Oh Wills, it's everywhere you go -- this is one of the worse flu epidemics in years."

William frowned at Carol's use of the nickname, but knew that nothing he could say would stop her.

To Carol, 'Wills' was a term of endearment which enabled her to keep up the facade that their relationship would soon be consummated to their mutual satisfaction. Well, at least, to her satisfaction. William had a hard shell, a reserve which she was determined to penetrate. 'God, he's handsome!' she swore, itching to run her hand along his well-muscled thigh which was close enough to her own for her to feel the tingle of electricity. "But he doesn't know what's good for him!" she muttered. Fortunately, William was looking out the window...again...and hadn't heard her. She gave him a sharp look. 'Is that perspiration on his brow?' Her pulse quickened and she barely suppressed a calculating smile. A quick glance revealed that Fitz was watching her closely. He gave his own lazy smile, as she averted her face and pretended to look through a magazine. 'He is so annoying!' she hmphed to herself.

"Ha!" Fitz laughed, "Careful, Carol. You'll ruin your make-up if you keep your face puckered up like that!"

William was oblivious to their exchange, and the view out of the window was just a blur to him. He could feel the habitual cold sweat that broke out on his forehead just at the thought of illness, especially influenza. The sound of a cough turned his stomach and created the sensation of great weight bearing down on him, forcing his breath to come in shallow gasps. He had always reacted violently to displays of illness and it irritated him. It was his Achilles heel.

Here came the flight attendant with the warm towels. Was it safe to use one? Carol nudged him on the arm and handed him a towel. He ran it slowly over his weary face. It did feel good and helped to revive his spirits. The thought of handing Carol off to Charley in the very near future also gave him renewed energy. He sat up straighter and prepared for the landing.

Down below, London and its sister cities sprawled before him. William was not much of a traveler and had never been to England. He wouldn't be here now if he didn't have Charley to show him around and make all the arrangements. Heaven help him if Fitz was the tour guide.

William looked across the aisle to his friend, and exchanged a grin. Fitz was the adventurer. He loved to travel and had been all over the world, transacting business for the firm. His expense account was proof enough that Fitz enjoyed traveling and immersed himself in the local culture. William admired his friend's ability to feel at ease in any situation and to make himself at home no matter where he was.

Home to William was his high security, modern apartment on the lakefront in Chicago, surrounded by his books, CDs, and collected art, and within minutes from his health club. Someday he would like to get a place out in the country with enough acreage for a couple of horses and some woods. He could transact most of his business via computer --- that would suit him admirably --- and Fitz could visit him often enough to keep life interesting. But, whenever he tried to envision someone sharing this utopia, his mind went blank. He had dated several women in his thirty-two years, but there had been no one serious. Fitz frequently chided him that Miss Universe could show up on his doorstep, and he would find fault with her. If looks were the only criteria, he could have been married years ago. But he wanted someone who could laugh, and love, and share secrets with him. Was there such a person? In his bones, he felt that there was...and it wasn't Carol Bing.

Fitz glanced at his watch and paced a short distance up and down the corridor as they waited for Carol to come out of the loo. He was impatient to get going...find Charley, claim the luggage, and get out of this airport. "Whoa!" Fitz gave William a discreet nudge. A cluster of passengers from coach were moving toward them, and among them, was a lively young woman with light brown hair, a lithe, athletic figure, and an engaging smile. Her brown eyes were lit up as she talked animatedly with her companion.

William stopped short as he saw the object of Fitz' admiration. She glanced at William and their eyes locked and held for a moment. They both began to say "Hello," and then stopped, somewhat embarrassed as they realized they didn't know each other. The young woman turned her head back to her companion and continued on her way.

"Nice buns!" William and Fitz turned in surprise at Carol's outburst, then realized that she was watching the companion. "Don't we know him?" she asked.

"I don't know about the fellow, but that girl sure looks familiar," Fitz replied.

William set his jaw and said tersely, "In his case, I think familiarity would breed contempt." There was something about that man that set him on edge --- too polished, too something...

"Carol! Fitz! Hellooo!" someone was calling insistently. Charley Bing came into view past the jostling heads and shoulders of the other passengers. After much back-slapping and hugging, Charley led them over to claim their luggage, talking nonstop, even as they loaded their belongings into his automobile, left the parking lot, and swung out onto the highway. "Sorry, chaps! Janet and Baby Charley have the flu, so I set you up at The Milestone, just opposite Kensington Palace. Much better than our little flat...the hacking and coughing would keep you up all night. I made arrangements for the rental car. You can be on your way early tomorrow. Here are the maps, not hard to find, just past Ashbourne. A bed & breakfast called "The Meadows." After you get settled, look up Janet's sister, Alyssa, at the public library. She'll have all the brochures and other information about "Pemberley". Their sister, Lucy, works at the house as a guide, so they should be able to tell you anything you need to know."

Charley finally stopped for breath, and let all of his information sink in. Carol was the first to speak, "I'm certainly not going to stay at your place if everyone's sick, Charley. I didn't come all the way over here to look at four walls."

"I figured that, Carol, so I booked a room for you, too." He addressed his business partners, "Janet and I should be able to join you there at the end of next week. You won't mind if Carol goes along to Derbyshire with you tomorrow, will you?"

Fitz and William exchanged shrugs behind Charley's back and said that it was okay by them. Whatever.

Chapter 2

William kept two hands firmly on the wheel around the tight curves that wound in and out through the rough-cut valleys of southern Derbyshire ... every turn showed a new vista. He could see higher ground ahead, softer lines, thick woods. This part of England was postcard-perfect. 'Too bad we're in England,' he thought. 'This would be an ideal setting for that country house I eventually want.'

He glanced at his companions, but they were dozing in their respective places. Carol's mouth was open, and she probably wouldn't be very happy about the drool on one shoulder. 'Oh well,' he sighed, 'This little bit of shangri-la will be my secret.' And he rather liked not sharing it with them for the moment.

"The Meadows" turned out to be a Georgian farmhouse a couple of miles past Ashbourne, and, surprisingly, still a working dairy farm, much to Carol's dissatisfaction. "God, if I wanted to smell livestock, I could have stayed in Illinois," she muttered.

William was well-pleased with the place, whereas Fitz looked at the barns and sheds and wondered where the pub was hiding. "Watching all these people engaged in labor is giving me a powerful thirst," he moaned.

His partner patted him on the back and gestured toward the cows. "And I suppose you weren't planning on meeting girls of the four-legged variety," he laughed.

Mrs. Dunnan showed them to very well-appointed rooms with adjoining baths, though not without exhibiting a little curiosity about her foreign guests. It did not take her long to ferret out where they were headed and why, and that the young lady was not attached to either man, though she would like to be... especially to that tall, broad-shouldered fellow. Though the other young man was certainly friendlier.

The day was only half over, so the two gentlemen, after receiving instructions from their innkeeper, set off for the public library in Ashbourne. It seemed Carol was not in a hurry to renew her acquaintance with Janet's family members. William and Fitz had never met Alyssa, but did not think it would be too hard to identify her from Carol's description: "One meeting, and it will be obvious why she is wasting away in the backwoods of England --- she fits in well with the cows and the sheep. She may work in a library, but, by her manner of speaking, I would not assume that she is well-read. Her figure is just adequate, her posture does nothing for her clothes, and she is a social wannabe with a sharp tongue."

The library was almost vacant --- just one young woman in a far corner, going through books. Her hair was pulled rather severely back in a clip and she had on reading glasses, but her twill slacks fit her very nicely, as both men noticed. And, past the desk, a rather frumpy, slightly older woman in a baggy dress, dark hose, and flats, the requisite costume of a woman who wants to be appreciated for her mind. Fitz had been teasing William about the woman at the airport, and women in general. They reached the desk, and Fitz gestured over his shoulder at the woman they had seen as they entered, "What about her, William?"

William laughed at his bantering. "Oh, she's tolerable. But not handsome enough to tempt me." he responded.

"May I be of some service, gentlemen?" asked a deceptively soft voice behind them.

Both men felt their faces glow as they turned to face the young woman in the twill slacks. The woman they were looking for...Alyssa.

Chapter 2 Continued

William was quite aware of their, or rather his, social gaff, but knew of no graceful way to extricate himself.

Fitz was no help - he was standing there flashing his tried-and-true smile, waiting for the desired effect. "You must be Alyssa," he remarked ingenuously.

Alyssa smiled back. "And you must be Charley's friends. I have heard so much about you..." Her eyes flickered over William. "both." Her reading glasses were hanging on a cord around her neck so, as she glanced at him, William could see a pair of very fine eyes. She arched lovely eyebrows, and continued teasingly, "Let me guess..." She placed a hand lightly on Fitz' arm. "You must be Fitz...." She nodded rather dismissively back at his partner. "And that would make you William." she finished quickly. She patted Fitz' arm. "I'll be with you in a jiff --- the leaflets are in the back room."

Fitz turned to William and raised his eyebrows. "Well!" he exclaimed, a very pleased grin spreading across his face.

William did not respond. Alyssa was certainly not what either of them had expected.

Good as her word, she was back in a "jiff", with an armful of assorted pamphlets and brochures which she dumped into William's arms. They both jumped back at the crackle of static electricity as their hands touched, and Alyssa gave him a quick frown before she turned to Fitz. "Have you had tea yet?" she asked cordially. "There's a nice place just around the corner - not too touristy." She called over her shoulder to the other woman as they made for the door, "I shall return within the hour, Charlotte --- promise!" She stopped in her tracks and exclaimed, "Oh wait! I forgot my purse - sorry!" She rushed back to the desk and reached in a drawer, looking for said item.

Charlotte stepped over to her and whispered, "My, Lissy! Two fine young men!"

"I only see one from where I am!" Alyssa said emphatically.

"Yes, that tall one is more than handsome, but the shorter one isn't so bad. What are their names again?"

Alyssa laughed, "I was referring to the shorter one! His name is Fitz. The other one I call 'The Ugly American.'" and she ran back to where the men were waiting.

William tried to keep his eyes from watching Alyssa's every move but it was very difficult. Her eyes sparkled and snapped as she engaged in conversation, easily showing her feelings on each subject. Her entire posture showed how enthralled she was with "Pemberley" and how eager she was to share that enthusiasm with them. On the other hand, it did not take much imagination to realize that the way she said "erudite" in conjunction with Mr. Cowles, the curator, was not a compliment. Did she realize how enchanting she was when she tilted her head just so? Or how graceful her hands were as they gestured and underlined what she was saying? 'Probably,' William thought cynically. He almost laughed aloud when he thought about the word he had used for her -- "tolerable" -- ha! The joke was definitely on him, for he had certainly made a poor impression on someone that it suddenly seemed very important to impress.

What would Fitz do in his shoes? William snorted aloud and startled his two companions who had been conversing chummily, and rather exclusively, with each other. They only spared him a moment's glance before returning to their discussion, and allowing William to continue his train of thought. 'Grovel. Fitz would definitely grovel. When he grovels, he exudes charm. When I grovel, I exude stupidity. Well, I have never actually groveled, but if I did, I'm sure I would come off as a very dull fellow.' He tried to think of an alternative course of action. 'I could be honest and say: I'm sorry, I never meant it. And if she asks me: Well then, why did you say it? Then what? Tell her Fitz was tormenting me? It's too ridiculous and complicated to explain.' He rubbed his forehead in frustration, and for some silly reason, probably jet lag, words popped into his head from an old cartoon that he had watched as a boy, "I am what I am and that's all that I am.... That has to be it. She will see by my actions, if not my words, the truth of who I am.'

So far, by William's facial expressions and posture, Alyssa had seen him alternately stare and glare at her. 'He certainly does not go out of his way to contribute to the conversation,' she decided. 'and he looks as though he wishes he were elsewhere. He even crosses one leg over and leans back, effectively cutting himself out of the social situation." She smiled at Fitz who was leaning toward her across the table, 'But he certainly knows how to choose his friends!'

Fitz and Alyssa were interrupted by an exclamation from William. "Look! It's she!" he was pointing to a picture in one of the brochures he had begun to flip through. "This is the girl at the airport."

"Joanna Heywood," Alyssa supplied. "Beautiful, single heiress...and a very nice young woman."

"Quite a package," Fitz commented. "So, who was that guy we saw her with at the airport?"

"I have no idea. She is just returning from a brief vacation - perhaps she met someone in the States."

William was perplexed. "Why would a beautiful heiress be flying coach?"

Alyssa raised her eyebrows expressively. "I did not say she was wealthy."

"You know how these old houses are, William," his partner explained. "After a while they are a constant drain on the old pocketbook, unless you can find a way to recover some of your money."

"And that would be one reason for her interest in leasing 'Pemberley,'" William mused. "But I am of the understanding that the home is open for tour groups."

Alyssa nodded, "It has only been open for a month... that's when Lucy came to live with me. I knew I could get her a job as tour guide. But, frankly, they are not drawing the crowds they would have wished. I think Joanna's little trip was more business than pleasure, an opportunity to encourage friends and associates to holiday in Derbyshire."

"Do we have an appointment scheduled with Miss Heywood?" Fitz asked. "I think my friend, here, is anxious to meet her."

Alyssa narrowed her eyes, speculating on William's motives, then replied, "Joanna will meet with you at 1 p.m. tomorrow and show you around the grounds herself. Then you will probably be invited to tea, and will have ample time to discuss business."

Fitz shook his head, "Is there an earlier tour? I'd kind of like to get the lay of the land before I meet Miss Heywood. She could be rather...distracting."

"Lucy's first tour is at 10 a.m., but I hardly see the need..." Alyssa protested. "Joanna is a very forthright person and will tell or show you anything you request."

William interrupted her. "We do not doubt your friend Miss Heywood. We would simply like to see how the staff conducts itself when she is not around. They will be a very important part of the package we offer our client."

Alyssa nodded in understanding, "I would be interested in hearing a little more about your enterprise." She glanced at her watch. "But we will need to continue this conversation later. It has been very nice to meet you both. If you need anything, you know where to find me," she rolled her eyes in the direction of the library. "Off hours, you will find me at "Roses", the cottage just before your bed and breakfast as you leave the city limits."

"May we have your phone number?" Fitz asked quickly.

Alyssa found a small case within her purse and produced a business card. Then with a quick "Good-bye!" she returned to work.

Both gentlemen looked rather amused. "A librarian with a business card?" Fitz shrugged, glancing down at it. "Say, William, look at this..."

"'Alyssa Benning, "The Roses", Ashbourne. Master Gardener & Rosarian. Well Drawing' ---whatever is that? and then her phone number...and a 'Net address? Actually it doesn't look like a personal homepage address." He gave the card back to his friend. "She sounds like quite an accomplished young woman."

"I can't imagine why Carol gave us such a contradictory report..." Fitz remarked snidely.

Chapter 3

Author's Note: I apologise to any people who have actually been to Derbyshire. I have not, but I found the website fascinating. I can't believe that JA was acquainted with all this natural wonder and beauty and didn't bother to mention it in much detail. My facts may not completely accurate, but my enthusiasm is very real.

William and Fitz were up at sunrise, ready for their customary jog. Carol had been asked to join them and they had been soundly ridiculed for their efforts. "She is definitely not a morning person," Fitz laughed.

"Thank God!" William exclaimed. "At least we can count on these few minutes of peace."

They companionably headed down the road, away from town. The hills and valleys made for a strenuous work-out, but the scenery was worth it. "You know, they say this is one of the most beautiful spots in England," William panted.

"Hey, old boy, you better get your stamina up. I have a few plans for us while we're here." William looked at him questioningly. "You know that web address on Alyssa's card? I checked it out on the laptop last night. It leads to..."

"There's a hook-up at the farm?"

"Of course! That is a modern dairy farm --- they need a computer to check the market. Anyway, it was a site all about Derbyshire. This place is a mecca for people who like physical activity and great visuals."

"Such as...?"

"Well, I thought maybe we could do a little mountain biking...or rock climbing."

William groaned, "No...no rock climbing. You are insane. We almost got killed last time I went with you."

"We did not!" Fitz declared emphatically. "I knew what I was doing the whole time. You're the inexperienced climber, and therefore the danger. I should worry about going with you. It named all these places around here and their degree of difficulty. I guess some of those limestone cliffs are kind of hairy - you even have to use bolts to secure the climb."

William shook his head with determination. "No rock climbing. Mountain bikes, fine."

Fitz laughed, "I was hoping you would say that!"

William, realizing that he had been duped into agreeing to go biking, sped up and passed Fitz, showing him an "eat my dust" attitude.

Soon they were shoulder-to-shoulder again. "So, did you find out anything about Alyssa?" William asked as the road leveled out.

"I found a link to Well Drawing which led to Alyssa. That's some kind of pagan ritual, well, at least it started out that way. They bless the water in their wells by making these pictures, or whatever you want to call them. Actually they're kind of interesting. They're made out of rice and flower petals and stuff pressed into clay. They're very intricate."

"Kind of like the Rose Bowl Parade?"

"Along that line, but naturally much smaller. The well gets one of these pictures, and a little ceremony, and even a brass band. There's even a contest for the artwork. That's where our girl comes in -- Alyssa has won a few. According to the article, she usually designs the one at 'Pemberley.'" He was silent for a few moments, then remembered something, "By the way, we may not be able to stay here as long as we had planned, or at least, not both of us. I checked our messages and the work is piling up. Tom has a movie that will be filming in Budapest and he needs a place with a lot of room and something to entertain the kids. Then, we still have to check out what's available in sunflower country for Patricia."

"Good morning to you, Gentlemen!"

They glanced up the road, sun in their eyes, and realized Alyssa was jogging toward them. She had on a very brief pair of shorts that showed off long, developed leg muscles. Another facet to her personality.

"You look like a travel ad for Derbyshire," Fitz commented admiringly, turning and falling into step with her. "You don't mind if we jog along with you?"

'She could certainly entice me to visit this fair country,' William thought to himself. He allowed the other two to jog ahead of him, which rather left him out of the conversation, but had its advantages.

Alyssa shrugged indifferently. "You looked up the web site, then?"

"Yes, curiosity got the best of us," Fitz admitted. "We had to know what 'well drawing' was."

"If you stay a few weeks, you will find out first hand. The season is almost upon us."

"I'd like to..."

Alyssa looked at him doubtfully.

"I would!" Fitz laughed. "I'm not as shallow as I seem. I don't mind a little culture now and then."

"A very little," William muttered. Alyssa glanced back at him, but he wasn't sure if she had heard his remark. 'Looks like Fitz is chalking up another victory. What number will this make?' he fumed.

They were at the gate to "The Meadows" when Fitz suggested that they 'walk it out' by accompanying Alyssa to her door, but William took a pass and went in to shower and shave. He was glad he did - the smells coming from the kitchen were this side of heaven.

He was halfway through all the satisfying side dishes, when Fitz came down, spic and span and very pleased with himself. At William's raised eyebrow, he said cheerily, "Ah, yes! I love a girl who isn't afraid to sweat!"

William was having a hard time deciding why that statement should bother him. Alyssa was lovely, but so were plenty of women... including Joanna Heywood. She certainly had not tried to impress him; in fact, she pretty well ignored him. And she obviously found Fitz to be more than 'tolerable.'

Within the hour, they discovered that "Pemberley" was not on a main road, but at the end of a lane that meandered through the countryside. Fortunately there were a few signs to guide them. And they were only held up once by a crossing of sheep. Barbra would find this local color rustic, quaint, unless she was in a hurry.

Finally, "Pemberley" was just visible through the trees. William was at the wheel, and involuntarily slowed the car as a chill ran down his spine. He slammed on the brakes, and leaped out. What he was doing was irrational, unexplainable. "Go on ahead," he gestured to Fitz. "I'll catch up with you. Just want to get a feel for the place."

Carol began to protest, but Fitz, who was studying his friend's expression, shushed her. He slid into the driver's seat and took off with a quick wave of the hand.

William stood in the middle of the lane. Just stood there, breathing in, feeling. The lane looked like it had been there forever. The trees along each side were very old, ancient by American standards. In some places they were falling down, rotting. 'That will have to be taken care of - safety hazard,' was his automatic thought.

The breeze was gently pushing him along the road toward the house. He had seen the brochures. He knew what to expect. He had poured over them so often last night, that he knew the place inside and out. But...this feeling. He hadn't expected to be overwhelmed by the feel of the place.

There was "Pemberley." Every stone, every brick...the very mortar. The roofline, the windows, the main door. He realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out shakily, it almost ended in a sob. 'Pull yourself together, Man!' he told himself firmly. 'This is ridiculous!' He just stood and looked. It was perfect. It was beautiful. It was that house he wanted in the country. Suddenly he felt an irrational anger toward Joanna Heywood. He was jealous of her, that she had grown up in this house, had lived and been loved and laughed in this house, as many people had before her. He wanted to be a part of that history. He felt very, very lonely. And sad. This house wasn't meant to be shown to tour groups, to have thoughtless, uncaring people tramp through its halls, leaving litter in their wakes, speculating on the lives of the people who used to live there. Nor leased to people like Barbra who would never realize its true worth.

William saw Fitz and Carol waving at him, motioning for him to quit dawdling. The tour was about to begin. He took a few deep breaths, and walked briskly toward them.

Chapter 3 Continued

The only other tourists were an elderly couple from Florida. 'How did they hear of this place?' William mused. They reminded him of his own parents who had turned their backs on midwestern winters ten years ago and now lived outside of Phoenix. It was about time to give them another call to check on them. William felt his father's driving days were over, and was just waiting for the state of Arizona to agree with him, hopefully before anyone got hurt. There were many times that he wished he had a brother or sister to share the responsibility of his parents with. There had been a sister when William was seven, but she died at birth, almost taking their mother with her.

Lucy came out the door and gave a cheery greeting to her small group. She was a bit more well-rounded than Janet or Alyssa but the shape of her face and nose looked familiar. Within minutes, she struck William as being a born tour director, for she was adept at modulating her voice so the old folks wouldn't have to keep asking her to speak up. She was just starting to say, "My name is Lucy Benning," when a young man approached, the same person they had seen with Joanna at the airport. He whispered something in Lucy's ear, then walked behind her into the house.

From William's vantage point, he saw the surreptitious pat to the bum, and everyone noticed her low exclamation of "Wendy!" but she regained her composure quickly, and began anew, "I have only been in Derbyshire for one month, but this place has already put its spell on me. I think that you, too, will not leave here today without being affected. Pemberley began as a lowly manor house in the late 16th Century. The house and its extensive acreage were a gift from King Henry VIII to a highly successful strategist in his royal militia, Robert D'Arcy. Pemberley was improved through the years but did not reach its full potential until profits from the colonial empire were realized and put to good use by William Darcy in the mid-1700's. By that time, the family name had lost its apostrophe -- and considering our history with France, that was probably a very prudent move."

When Lucy mentioned the family name, Fitz gave William a nudge, and an even harder one at 'William Darcy.' William thought it was something of a coincidence, too, in that the name on his own business card read D. William Austen, the 'D' standing for 'Darcy.' It was not too surprising, though, since his mother had read romance novels for years, and many of their plots were set in England.

Lucy continued, "The Darcy Dynasty came to an end in 1815, at the death of Fitzwilliam Darcy of influenza."

It was William's turn to nudge Fitz, not for his name which was actually Wilhelm Pfitzer, but because of the name of their company, Fitz & William. Carol snickered as she made the connection also.

"His sister, Georgiana, took on the management of the estate guided by her Fitzwilliam cousins, and in 1822, she married John Curwood. They remained at Pemberley, and were able to pass it on, intact, to their eldest child, Anne, who was by that time Mrs. Harold Billerton. Since then, the family names have included Rogers, Phillips, Denning, Atherton, Mason, and now, Heywood, for it seems that this grand old house is destined to be passed down through the female side of the family. Between childhood illnesses, and two world wars, the young men of Pemberley have not lived long enough to claim their birthright. One could say that, since the death of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pemberley has been without a master, although it has known many mistresses."

Lucy held the door for them as they finally entered the great house, then continued her speech, "As you see, the women of Pemberley have taken their duty very seriously, and have maintained the home in near-perfect condition. Unusual as it may seem, subsequent owners have not added to or altered Pemberley except to install modern conveniences and safety features. Other than that, it looks much as it did in 1815."

They were standing in the entrance hall, surrounded by delicate tapestries, inlaid floor, and well-cared-for antiques. "An interesting tidbit of information for you," Lucy continued, "The current mistress of Pemberley, Joanna Heywood, is the adopted daughter of the late Joseph and Geraldine Heywood, and so is the first generation of owners with not one drop of original D'Arcy blood." She then made the rounds of the room, giving more specific information on the period pieces, and answering questions.

Fitz ran a hand over the smooth woodwork and gave a low whistle. It's colors were rich and mellow, almost glowing from within. "It's funny how English oak and American oak differ, the way the grain.."

"Yeah, kind of like how their robins don't look the same as ours," Carol piped in. She was looking nose-to-wall at one of the tapestries. "Whatever sins this person committed were atoned for on earth," she declared. "These stitches are so small..." She gave a shudder. "That would be my idea of Hell, sitting around all day working on this thing."

William enjoyed the light and airy feeling of the room due to its generous dimensions. He stood back to admire the artistry of the inlaid floor. "The people who were able to produce this kind of work had a secret to their method..." Fitz glanced over questioningly. "Actually, two secrets: they loved what they were doing, and they took pride in it."

Everything had been very well-preserved, and even though they were walking through what amounted to a museum, Pemberley was still able to exude a feeling of welcome.

'Of home-coming,' William thought. He was touched by the love and care that had been given to the house, something one didn't see too often anymore.

His uneasy feelings were almost suppressed as he admired the architecture and antiques of these downstairs rooms, but when his eyes fell on the pianoforte, the feelings came back full-force. Lucy was calling them to come along to the gallery to see the family portraits, but William didn't feel up to it. He needed to go outside or sit down, or something.

"I'll be right along," he waved. Fortunately, Lucy knew who he was and did not insist that he accompany them.

"Come on, Wills," Carol ordered, pulling on his hand, "If I have to listen to all this, so do you," but William was in no mood to be teased. She dropped his hand and stalked off.

"Are you okay?" Fitz asked his friend.

"I don't know... maybe I have a touch of that flu or something. I'll be okay." Fitz patted him on the back and followed Carol out of the room. "I don't know what it is," he muttered to himself, "but it isn't the flu."

William wandered around, looking for an out-of-the-way place to rest for just a few minutes. He opened a door into a library or study. It was quiet and dimly lit; sun barely filtered through the window dressings. The old leather chair behind the desk looked appealing, well-worn and comfortable...and good enough for his purposes. He sank down into it thankfully and leaned his head back. He had always enjoyed the feel of leather, the way it seemed to fit the body personally. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, let the tension leave his muscles.

Scenes ran through his mind, strange yet comforting. They didn't seem to make much sense, yet at the same time, were familiar to him. Himself as a very small boy, approaching this desk with some trepidation, facing a father whose countenance was stern but not unkind. A young girl, perhaps twelve years of age, approaching himself, his face trying to mirror that of the father. Himself again, this time as a young man, approaching that same girl; inwardly admiring her look of determination, though she was years younger than he.

A thread was woven through these pictures, a thread of love... William felt the loneliness sweep over him again. Understanding was beyond his grasp. He had loving parents, very good friends... but this seemed deeper, timeless.

William shook himself awake and stood up. He stretched his arms and back, then walked around the room, looking at the titles of the books. "Someone was a serious collector," he muttered, though none of them seemed older than the last century. Perhaps they kept it this way for the tour. The newer books were probably in the private rooms. He spied a volume of John Donne and gently pulled it out. The nameplate marked it as belonging to William Darcy. He gingerly turned some of the pages, and a piece of paper fell to the floor. Actually it was a card. Strange, the only words were 'Your William.' They were faded, but legible, and there were no other marks on front or back. 'Probably from something he gave to his wife,' William decided. He glanced around the room and then down at the poem on the page opened to him, absent-mindedly slipping the card into the pocket of his jacket. He hadn't noticed the collection of miniatures on the mantlepiece, or he may have recognized some of the people in his daydreams.

Someone was calling his name...Carol. She was repeating it as she searched the rooms for him. William returned the book to its place on the shelf, and went out to meet her. "What were you doing in there?" she asked impatiently. She caught a glimpse of bookshelves as he closed the door behind him. "I should have known where to look," she sighed, "given your passion for musty old books." She was irritated that he did not exhibit any other "passions" in her presence.

"Perhaps you should marry a librarian," Fitz suggested unhelpfully to his friend.

"I thought that was your intention," he responded sharply.

Carol frowned, trying to decipher their meanings. The only librarian she knew of was Alyssa. She remembered Fitz saying they had met up with Jane's sister during their morning jog. Perhaps she had been unwise to stay in bed. 'I will not repeat that mistake,' she vowed to herself, and shuddered at the thought of seeing the sun rise.

"How was the rest of the tour? Where are the others?"

"Lucy was going to show us the family burial plot, but I told her we would pass on that. If I were that elderly couple, I probably wouldn't be so keen on cemeteries as they seem to be," Fitz quipped.

Carol began to drone on about the gallery, and was relating some story that was connected to one of the portraits, but she really wasn't making much sense. William tuned her out until he heard her refer to "Lizzy."

"Lissy? Alyssa?"

It was obvious to Carol that he had not been listening. She almost walked away, then decided on another tactic. She approached William, and linked her arm through his. "It was a very romantic story," she began, leaning on him slightly. "The beginning was like every girl dreams of but the ending..."

"Even girls like you, Carol?" Fitz interrupted. He had heard the tale, and could not apply any part of it to Carol Bing.

She rested her head lightly on William's shoulder, "I have feelings, too, you know. It's not easy being a woman in the '90s." She resumed her tale, "But the ending was tragic, and it could have been avoided."

"In what way?" Fitz demanded to know.

"Obviously, Mr. Pfitzer, if Darcy had not mingled among members of a lower class, he would not have contracted the influenza, and would have continued to be the master of Pemberley, instead of pushing up daisies."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "It was like this," he explained to William, "Boy and girl meet, have a love-hate relationship. By the time they realize it's love, they take turns getting the flu. He helps her survive it, then succumbs to it himself. Kind of a 'star crossed lovers' story. Sure to interest the tourists. Once she is well enough, she comes to Pemberley, helps his sister through the hard times, in return she has carte blanche as a guest here."

"I thought Carol said something about Alyssa."

"Her name was Elizabeth Bennet, but friends called her Lizzy," Fitz explained. "In fact, Georgiana's children called her 'Aunt Lizzy.'"

Chapter 3 Continued

Alyssa sat down at the table in front of her bagel and cup of tea, and tiredly rested her chin in her hand. She was in the employee break room at the Ashbourne library. It was only noon, but it felt like it was time to punch out and go home for the day. If she could sleep through the night, it would help.

She'd had the dream again, the same dream she'd had all her life. Well, at least since about age 16. She was in the woods with a tall man. A man who was looking at her intensely. She knew that they loved each other, and she reached out to touch his hand. Her fingers were almost there when he turned around and walked away, without looking back. She called out and ran after him, breathing hard; her dress caught on the bushes along the path, and she fell down. She hurt her arm... it was bleeding, and at the sight of it, she felt faint, but she struggled to her feet, still trying to reach him. He crossed a river, and then she knew it was hopeless. He was gone forever. He had left her.

"No wonder I have a problem with relationships," she sighed dejectedly. She thought of the two men she had recently met. Fitz was a charmer; and she really enjoyed his company, but she knew that his biggest attraction was his playfulness, and light-hearted attitude. They could have fun while it lasted, and there would be no lingering sadness when he left, just happy memories. William, on the other hand, was too serious. He meant what he said. Exactly the kind of man that made her most skittish. This morning when they were jogging, Alyssa had not been unaware of William's interest, both in her conversation and in her appearance, but she would not give him any encouragement. Emotionally, she just couldn't handle it right now. Let him think she was still miffed over his faux pas when they had first met. It was easier that way.

Picturing William made her think of the man in her dream. Since moving to Derbyshire four years ago, he had worn the face of Fitzwilliam Darcy. She supposed that was only natural since his portrait had made such an impression on her.

She laughed when she recalled her first months of Pemberley-mania. The summer before moving to the area, she and a friend had taken holiday in Derbyshire. The scenery was indeed very beautiful, but it was the enigma of Pemberley that had brought her back. She loved all of it, the house, the grounds, the history. Fortunately, she was offered the position at the Ashbourne library soon after graduating from college. Even though she missed Janet, she never regretted her decision to relocate.

At that time, the house was not open to the public, but Alyssa had haunted the lawns, gardens, and woods so frequently, that after Joanna Heywood had seen her three times in one day, Joanna had asked her if she worked there. That was how they had met, but for both of them, it felt like the renewal of an old acquaintance, and they were soon closest friends.

Since then, Alyssa had been to Pemberley many, many times, and Joanna had given her a private tour of the entire house from attic to ground. She would always remember the first time she saw Fitzwilliam Darcy's portrait hanging in the family gallery. Just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes. And when she heard the legend of Lizzy and Darcy, she had cried out loud. She was such a marshmallow.

Joanna Heywood stretched out both hands to William as he approached her where she stood on the step. "Welcome! Welcome to Pemberley, Mr. Austen." They looked at each other frankly, liking what they saw. "I should have recognized you at the airport," she continued. At William's questioning look, she replied, "Your homepage includes an informal photograph of the business partners...I knew I had seen you somewhere before."

She kept one hand on William and extended the other to Fitz. "I am very happy to meet you also, Mr. Pfitzer."

"Fitz. Fitz and William," he corrected. "Joanna, thank you for inviting us."

The three stood a moment looking at the stretch of land that sloped down to the river. It was backed by a woods that was beginning to show spring greenery. Pemberley was in a naturally beautiful setting, with no artificial schemes to detract from its charm.

"I am envious," William admitted. "You have youth, beauty, and all of this before us. You must wake up every morning, feeling that life is good."

Joanna laughed good-naturedly, "Until the bill collectors come, at least. Now, let us go inside." She then resumed, "Would you like some refreshment before we begin our tour?"

Both gentlemen declined. "I must tell you, Joanna, that we had the standard tour this morning," Fitz explained.

"Yes, I know. A commendable idea. Now we will be able to go directly to the private apartments, and will also have more time to discuss details." Joanna led the way. She showed them a series of guestrooms, a sitting room, morning room, and bathrooms that would be available for the exclusive use of their client. Some of the public rooms would need to be shared in the event that she and Barbra were at Pemberley at the same time.

William's ill feelings of the morning had receded sharply upon meeting Joanna Heywood, perhaps because he was so taken with her. He had never met anyone so delightful -- open, friendly, intelligent, and unpretentious. Carol would not like her, and would not understand her character. Fortunately, Carol had realized that her presence was not welcome while they conducted business, and had made her own plans for the afternoon.

Their conversation did not stick rigidly to the business at hand, and by tea time, they had a fair idea of their mutual likes and dislikes. William was intrigued by the way he and Joanna could almost finish each other's thoughts. His usual reserve was falling to the wayside under the spell of Miss Heywood.

Their minds were one until Joanna brought up her favorite musical groups. She admitted that classical music was her choice when she played the piano for her own pleasure, but when in the role of listener, she enjoyed "Backstreet Boys." Fitz immediately concurred and they fell into discussing various songs while William looked on.

"I've seen them in concert once in the States," Fitz said.

Joanna expressed her envy, then exclaimed, "In two weeks, they're going to be in London -- let's all go together!"

"That would be terrific!" Fitz agreed, "but nearly impossible to get tickets."

"I have already purchased four," she assured him. "I knew I wanted to go, but I did not know with whom. Would you mind if Lissy came along as a fourth?"

"Great!" Fitz agreed.

William did not want to go, but did not know how to get out of it. An evening of loud music, compounded with a mass of screaming bodies, pushing and shoving, did not interest him.

"William, you are very quiet on the subject," said Joanna.

"I'm sorry. I am just enjoying my surroundings. It will be my pleasure to make one of the party." He saw Fitz grin at him behind Joanna's back. 'What have I committed myself to?' he asked ruefully.

Tea time included Joanna's guest, the young man they had seen at the airport, Mr. Wendell Dickey.

"Wendy is from New York City," Joanna informed them. "We met through mutual friends, and when he heard of my business venture, said he would come and check it out."

William was on guard the moment Dickey entered the room. Something about the man was unnerving. His casual clothes were of fine quality, and he was good-looking in an Ivy League sort of way. His attentiveness and manners around Joanna were impeccable, yet William could not listen to his voice without experiencing a negative reaction. And he still remembered Dickey's attentions to Lucy that morning.

Joanna smiled charmingly at her guest, "Fitz was just going to tell me a little about their company, Fitz & William. It sounds very intriguing -- they meet the people you usually only see in tabloids."

"I am all ears," Wendy replied courteously. "Please continue, Fitz."

"Beware of Fitz-isms," William said mysteriously. Joanna and Wendy were totally confused by the expression. "Fitz tends to use interesting analogies whenever he explains something," William told them.

Fitz took exception to his partner's remarks, and then proceeded to prove William correct. "Charley checks out all the fishing holes and let's us know if there are any fish biting."

"Or in the market for our services," William explained sotto voce.

"Then it is my job to reel in the fish and land it."

"Work with the customer to the point of signing the contract," William continued.

"Then William prepares the fish and all the trimmings and serves it up on a platter."

"I work out all the details and make sure everything goes as planned, and to the satisfaction of all parties involved." he included.

"Commendable," Joanna remarked. She had guessed that William was the partner with the head for numbers, and the ability to provide all the personalized amenities that would set them apart from their competition. The rumor mill had it that Fitz & William were doing quite well for themselves, and she could believe it. "So, if I have any complaints, I should call you," she teased William.

"Compliments are accepted also," he replied, matching her mood with a smile.

Chapter 3 Continued

Fitz gave his friend a speculative look as they drove away from Pemberley.

"What?" William demanded to know.

"Joanna Heywood is an interesting young woman."

"Yes..."

"And Beautiful..."

"Yes..."

"And I have never seen you let down your guard so quickly," Fitz finished.

William laughed, "She is much younger than I, Fitz." His friend raised one skeptical eyebrow. William looked a little sheepish as he continued, "I cannot deny that I find Joanna lovely and refreshing."

"Well, she has an admirable effect on you, but you're probably right," he added mischievously, "you're much too old for her -- she would do better with me or that Dickey fellow."

The immediate electricity in the air between them caused Fitz to realize that he had crossed some boundary, but he wasn't sure why. "What do you have against the man?"

"When he is in the room I sense...I don't know...evil sounds rather melodramatic...perhaps, ill-intent."

"The feeling seems to be mutual," Fitz observed. "Whenever Joanna gave attention to you, his jaw muscles got a work-out."

"He should feel uncomfortable -- I'm going to be watching him," William snapped. "I will not allow him to hurt Joanna."

"We just met the young lady a few hours ago," Fitz reminded his friend. "You're not her big brother. I don't see how we can interfere."

"I will not let it happen again!"

"Again?"

William was momentarily confused, but then shrugged, "With men like Dickey, young girls don't realize their intentions until it is too late. But you're right, it's none of our business."

Fitz glanced at his watch. "We have to get back to "The Meadows" -- it's later than I realized.

"What are you up to?"

"We," Fitz corrected, "are going in search of some local color. Alyssa mentioned that she and Lucy will be at 'The Raven' this evening."

"What is 'The Raven'?" William asked suspiciously.

"A pub."

His friend was looking a little too innocent, so William questioned him further.

"It may have a little music and dancing..."

"You will be going alone," William responded firmly. "I do not frequent places in which I must make public display, especially among strangers."

Fitz laughed, "William, you are showing your age. Come on -- it won't be so bad. You wouldn't want me to escort Carol alone, would you?"

"Even more reason not to go," William reiterated. He was already irritated by the commitment coaxed from him earlier. "By the way, how long have you liked Backstreet Boys?"

"Just trying to please the customer," Fitz admitted. He was very good at being whatever people wanted him to be.

William drove the rest of the way in silence. In his mind, the subject of 'The Raven' was closed. If he had been able to read Fitz' thoughts, though, he would not have been so complacent.

Chapter 4

William's intentions were good, but Fitz and Carol were persistent, so here he was, watching his two friends dance and sweat. He nursed his beer and looked around at the crowd. 'The Raven' had a neighborhood bar atmosphere, very casual, with all the patrons well-acquainted except for the three Americans. He could see Lucy dancing with some abandon. "She is an energetic creature!" he muttered. Then he spotted Alyssa sitting on a barstool, and he wandered over to her.

"Good evening," he began pleasantly.

Alyssa was surprised that he would seek her out without Fitz at his side. "William..." she acknowledged. "Oh no! Mr. Cowles..." she murmured as that gentleman entered the pub. "He is so persistent!" Because of the well drawings, Mr. Cowles thought he had found in Alyssa a fellow historian, a kindred spirit, and lost no opportunity to chat with her at great length about various and sundry time periods. He could expound on stocks and cravats for an entire evening. She urged William to turn and block her from view.

Mr. Cowles interrupted Lucy's dance and obviously asked the whereabouts of her sister, for she looked over at William and mouthed, "Where is Alyssa?" William, in turn, shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

"Walk sideways over to the back of the room where the games are," Alyssa whispered. "He will never look for me there." When they made it to her chosen sanctuary, she gave a sigh of relief, and grinned up at William, "Thank you for being a good sport."

William returned her smile, "My motives were not entirely altruistic," he explained. "Someday I may call upon you to hide me from Carol."

Alyssa laughed at the thought of tall, broad-shouldered William crouched down, hiding behind her. Then she walked over to the dartboard and removed some darts from the face of it. She felt the weight of one in her right hand, and rather awkwardly brought it up into position to throw.

William stepped up quickly. "Allow me," he suggested. He altered her grasp slightly and guided her hand back, explaining to her the strategy of throwing darts.

His nearness was unsettling, and when Alyssa let loose, the dart just caught the edge of the board. She could feel his aura from a few inches away, it was warm, compelling... She shook her head and stepped away, disturbed by her reaction. 'Overdressed, pompous fool,' she thought angrily. If William had looked at her face, he would have seen many changes of emotion: surprise, anger, irritation, and then, a small, secret smile -- a dangerous combination for Alyssa Benning. A couple of friends looked over, then turned away before William could see them snicker. They were going to enjoy Lissy's little game.

After a few more steadily improving attempts, which hit the dartboard, if not the bull's eye, Alyssa suggested that they have a little competition between them.

William shook his head, 'What would be the sport in that?' but the lady was insistent.

"I do much better when I have something to win or lose," she explained.

"Well, I will at least play left-handed," William suggested. "What shall we wager?"

Alyssa thought for moment, "Dinner!"

Within minutes, the gentleman was properly chagrined. He realized that he had been the object of a joke when one of her friends called over, "How is it going, Lefty?" for indeed, Alyssa was left-handed, and rather experienced at the game. Only one of her darts did not hit center. William capitulated gracefully, and Alyssa laughed, "Thank you again for being so good-natured. Some of the people who have been watching us, were not such good losers."

The ones nearest to her, who heard the remark, guffawed and shook their heads, then continued their game of pool.

"And so, Mr. Austen, when and where is dinner?"

Their conversation came to an abrupt end as Carol and Lucy walked up. Carol was bent on holding William to his promise of a slow dance, and Lucy had Wendell Dickey in tow.

"Wendy, this is my sister Alyssa. I believe you have met William Austen, and this is Carol Bing, a relative of sorts, as she is my brother's sister-in-law."

Dickey smiled in a friendly manner to each woman in turn, "Good evening." He began to acknowledge William but that gentleman was studying something on the wall, and did not notice.

Suddenly William turned back to Carol and took her by the hand. "This is our dance! Until later, Alyssa, Lucy..." and walked away without any mark of courtesy toward Dickey.

Alyssa's eyes narrowed at the boorish behavior. She returned Dickey's greeting, and added, "So, you are Joanna's new friend."

"Yes, we met in New York, and her description of Pemberley sounded so enchanting that I felt compelled to follow her home." He noticed that Lucy had wandered away to chat with one of the pool players. "Say, would you like to dance, Alyssa?"

"I would be delighted!"

Dickey led her out to the dance floor and quickly showed her that his dance skills were as good as his manners. 'This is fun!' she thought. She hadn't had plain old fun in a long time. A couple of times she caught William glaring at them, and her newborn prejudice toward the man grew apace. "Do you know William Austen very well?" she finally asked.

"I don't know the man at all," Dickey replied. "I just met him this afternoon. Not a very friendly fellow, is he?"

"I don't know him well either," Alyssa admitted. "but he seems to have taken a dislike to you."

Dickey shrugged it off good-naturedly, "I would call it more of a snubbing. Mr. Austen's star is on the rise and he is beginning to move higher in the social stratosphere. I am probably beneath his notice, as I am not a wealthy prospective customer."

Alyssa searched Dickey's face for anything hidden, but he seemed totally at ease. "You have a generous nature, Wendy. I'm afraid I would not take such behavior in stride."

Dickey left soon after their dance, with a promise to see her the next day. Alyssa regretted his departure. Such an amiable person... she could see why Lucy had befriended him so quickly.

"You and Wendy seem to be getting along famously," Lucy teased as she came over to stand beside her. "But please try not to encourage him to fall in love with you."

"I must admit that he is exceedingly charming," Alyssa replied. She faced her sister. "Why the warning? Is your heart involved, little sister?"

"I have not decided yet!" Lucy grinned impishly.

"Well, then I shall try to be less pleasing," Alyssa promised. But to herself, she admitted, 'The real danger may be of my falling in love with him.'

"A penny for your thoughts."

"I'm sorry, Carol, what were you saying?" William looked at his partner for the first time in minutes.

"I can imagine what you were thinking!" Carol exclaimed conspiratorially.

"I doubt that..."

"You are thinking how loathesome it would be to spend many more days here in this bovine society. I know how you feel. Their rough manners, the noise, the nothingness, yet the self-importance of all these people. I can see by your expression that I am correct..."

"I wasn't thinking that at all, Carol. Actually I was distracted by something more pleasurable, sparkling eyes on a very pretty woman." He could not help but glance in Alyssa's direction as he spoke.

Carol followed his eyes. "Alyssa Benning? Since when has she been a favorite?" She was very angry with William's inattention towards herself, and his most recent comments. "And will I be invited to the wedding?" she bristled. "After all, I am family."

"Your quantum leap from admiration to wedding bells was to be expected. I knew that you would soon wish me joy." Carol was so transparent.

Lucy and her dance partner drew near. They were holding each other closely and moving their hands around to the music. "Congratulations on your new family," Carol sniffed, but she did not get much response from William. 'At least, he is not arguing their virtues,' she decided. 'Perhaps he is just teasing me.'

Carol's remarks could not effect William, but watching Alyssa enjoy herself with Dickey played havoc with his emotions. 'What game is he at?' William mused. 'What are his real reasons for following Joanna home?'

After the slow song, William resumed his role of observer. He did not realize the level of tension in his body, until he felt the knots loosen in the muscles of his neck and across his shoulders when he saw Dickey leave the pub. Carol, rather surprisingly, allowed herself to be led out to the dance floor by one of the locals, and Fitz came to stand by William. The next song was a favorite of Fitz's and, as Lucy and Alyssa walked by, he took Lucy's hand and said, "Come on, let's dance!"

Her sister would have passed on, but she was detained by William's words, "Would you like to dance?"

She made to shrug him off, "I did not walk by in order to entice you to dance with me."

"I am aware of that, Alyssa." William was uncertain as to the cause of her aloofness. He gave a mock bow, in an effort to be charming, "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Benning?"

She continued to regard him coolly, then said, "I think not, Mr. Austen." and walked away.

The last set for the evening was well underway, thankfully. Another slow dance came up, so William and Carol snaked their way through the other dancers to find a spot not too near the speakers. William found that he didn't mind dancing with Charley's sister after all. At least he understood her, unlike some women he could mention. That person was now dancing with Fitz -- good! He had no idea why his offer to dance with her had been so completely rebuffed.

"Hey Carol!" Fitz and Alyssa were suddenly next to them. "I need to talk to you about tomorrow. Let's all switch partners.."

Before William knew what was happening, he was holding Alyssa in his arms. Their eyes met, then looked away. William cleared his throat, "Alyssa, what is going on? I thought we were beginning a friendship."

Alyssa met his look, and decided to be direct, "Why did you snub Wendell Dickey?" She felt his muscles tense immediately, and he seemed to need time to think about his answer. "Did you know him before, back in the States?" she prompted.

"No, I only met the gentleman this afternoon."

"Well then, what has he done to offend you in so short of time?"

"He has done nothing to me," William replied testily.

"Then I really cannot understand... You are well-educated, highly successful... Do you feel that he is beneath your notice?"

"God, no!" William blurted out.

Alyssa was becoming impatient. Something was wrong, but William was less than forthcoming. "With your looks, you could not possibly be jealous..." she mumbled, thinking aloud.

William found her comment amusing and rather gratifying. She noticed the twitch at the corner of his mouth, and realized that he had heard her last comment. "I suppose there were times when jealousy entered into it," he grinned, "You aren't so bad yourself!"

Alyssa chose to ignore the compliment, "Then what is it?" she demanded.

William shook his head, "I am not at liberty to say." How could he explain his feelings to her? He didn't understand them himself.

The dance ended, and Alyssa's curiosity was left unsatisfied. She sought out Carol and broached the subject with her. She should have known that she would not get an unbiased opinion.

"If William dislikes Wendell Dickey," Carol replied, "then he has very good reasons. I would trust William's judgement above all others."

"Have you talked with Wendy yourself?" Alyssa asked. She didn't think there had been time.

"No, I have not, but I would still allow William to be my guide in this. People who know him well would agree with me," Carol responded with certainty.

Alyssa was not sure what to think. She had spoken to her friend, Joanna, on the telephone before coming to the pub, and Joanna had bubbled over with good things to say about William. And she had been strangely reticent about Wendy. Alyssa still couldn't believe that she had invited a stranger into her home. She decided that she should visit her friend more often.

Continued in Section II