Darcy's participation in the training sessions became more active on the week that followed. Though sporadic and not in an authoritative manner, he pointed out mistakes and suggested changes in the procedures. Wilbur always welcomed Darcy's criticism but Elizabeth found it unnerving. The man never seemed satisfied with what she did.

Elizabeth found it difficult to concentrate on that particular day. Darcy came very early in the morning and followed her every move with piercing eyes. That made her riding slightly unfocused and she transmitted it to the mare. Too many drops, too many mistakes and Wilbur was becoming exasperated with her and the mare.

"Let's try it again, Elizabeth. Three strides before the jump. We have to do this right."

Again, Petticoat dropped the pole.

Wilbur exploded. "This is a two feet obstacle for Christ Sake! She can't drop it! You're holding her too tight and her head is too high. She's never going to make it like this."

"But I can't holder!" Elizabeth protested.

"All right," he took a deep breath in an attempt to control his temper, "let's do it again, and please Elizabeth, I know we are all tired but let's try to concentrate on what we're doing."

They had been repeating this same exercise for nearly an hour and both Elizabeth and the mare were tired of this. They were reaching the point when repetition would be counterproductive and Elizabeth suggested they should take a break before the mare started to hate what she was doing. Wilbur disagreed, she retorted, and all of the sudden Darcy jumped the fence and joined them.

The first thing Darcy did was give Petticoat some carrots. Elizabeth never imagined he would carry those with him. The mare chewed devoured them and asked for more. He then suggested a change of pace, a series of exercises in circles, which were executed to perfection. More carrots for Petticoat. Finally, he fixed a different hurdle and asked Elizabeth to jump. It came out perfect as did the repetitions that followed.

"That was absolutely outstanding, Mr. Darcy!" Wilbur said effusively. "You are not one of the best riders in the country in vain! And I am supposed to be a trainer! How generous of you to share your knowledge with us in such a way! Isn't it fabulous Charlotte?"

Darcy walked closer to Elizabeth and smiled up at her. "Excellent, Elizabeth, that was great."

"Thank you."

He then patted Petticoat's neck with affection. "You only needed a break from all this silliness, didn't you? I bet you were getting bored." The mare sniffed his pocket and Darcy pulled out some more slices of carrots. "All right, some more, you deserve them."

Elizabeth was still observing him with astonished eyes. What he did was so simple and yet so right. Petticoat was bored, unmotivated and he took her out from the routine and made her perform the same exercise in a completely different way. During those apparently senseless circles he asked Elizabeth to do, horse and rider reconnected and they both focused back on the purpose of this class. And he compensated her for her cooperation, something for which the mare was very grateful. Make them work for the fun of it, that was the clue.

Elizabeth observed him as he walked towards Richard, all the while listening to Wilbur's sickening praise. Darcy jumped the fence and joined his cousin on the other side. From the saddle, she could see them conversing, Richard eyeing him teasingly and Darcy smiling and biting his lower lip. Then, suddenly, Darcy playfully punched his cousin's arm and they both erupted in very contagious laughter.

They are surely joking about Wilbur's stupid rambling, Elizabeth thought. And she couldn't blame them, she would have liked to laugh herself. Wilbur was being utterly ridiculous. But Elizabeth didn't know how wrong she was in her assumption, for the gentlemen's subject of conversation had nothing to do with Mr. Wilbur Collins.

That Saturday, Elizabeth preferred to stay at Rosings instead of taking the train back home to see her family. Jane would spend the entire weekend at the racecourse and she learned from Kitty that things were a little tense between her parents. At least, here at Rosings, she could have some peace. Charlotte and Wilbur were gone to his mother's home, the house was quiet and it became an excellent opportunity to catch up with the novel she was reading. The breeze was fresh and the day clear so she sat in the porch to enjoy it. So trapped she had been in her book that she didn't notice that she wasn't alone. A shadow moving in front of her called her attention and she lifted her eyes to see who was there. It was William Darcy.

"I didn't hear you come." She startled.

Something was telling her that he had been standing there for some time and he didn't announce himself. He rested his shoulder on one of the columns and crossed one leg in front of the other in a very relaxed position. She immediately felt a little self-conscious under his stare. She sat properly, smoothed her shorts and arranged her hair more neatly. Soon she realized that he was determined to stay and remain silent, so she made a few attempts to conversation.

"I saw you on TV, at the Nation's Cup. That was a very nice win. Congratulations," she said in an expressionless tone.

"Thank you." he smiled genuinely.

Again he was silent. She wondered why he came all this way if he wasn't going to open his mouth.

"How's Charles? I haven't heard from him since he left Netherfield. Well, no, I did, I saw him on TV, but apart from that, I haven't had any news."

He studied his hands. "Fine. He's fine."

"Is he in England?"

"He was when I last talked to him."

"It's a pity that we weren't able to say goodbye when you departed, I must confess that we were all a little confused by your sudden leave."

"Yes," was all he said.

Elizabeth was becoming annoyed with this ping pong of questions and replies. If he wasn't able to make a decent conversation, why was she the one in charge of maintaining it? This man didn't deserve the effort she was putting forth and if he wanted to converse, he would have to find a subject, not her. In clear indication that she would not continue, she turned to her book. She was about to yawn when he spoke.

"How are you enjoying your stay in Kent?"

"I like it. This is a fabulous place and I'm learning a lot from my work." She smiled faintly.

"I glad to hear it. My aunt is very pleased with the results you are obtaining."

"Yeah."

To her surprise, after saying that, he left the column and sat on the bench beside her. She felt herself stiffen with his proximity and adjusted her position a little to avoid the brushing of his leg against hers.

"What an unfortunate accident for Charlotte. Fortunately there weren't serious consequences to lament. Falls can be very dangerous sometimes."

"Yes," she replied. "I fell the other day while training and it still aches when I sit down."

He frowned with concern. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Just my pride." Elizabeth laughed. "And, well, perhaps my bottom. It wasn't serious, it just caught me unprepared."

His eyes smiled at her. "I know how it feels. I had a couple of falls recently, and I grant you, the last one is still hurting. I almost broke my neck in that one."

England's hottest horseman fell off his horse? "So Tuareg finally dropped you?" She thought he was quite handsome when he smiled in that way.

"Yes." He looked down and his dimples appeared in an embarrassed smile. "When you ride the same horse for a long time you can get too confident and tend to overlook certain precautions." He grinned and bit his lower lip. "I miscalculated the distance and he hesitated when he was about to jump so we collided against the hurdle. I must say we were both fortunate that nothing serious happened, it was quite a spectacle."

That was dangerous, but she was amused to think that he was human after all. "I can imagine that!" She couldn't contain her grin. "I hope you didn't injure yourself."

He moved in his spot. "Not much, a few bruises and a fissured rib. I'm glad I made it to the Nations Cup."

Her smile disappeared from her face instantly. Suddenly, the picture of him falling over a rail in the middle of a jump crossed her mind and it wasn't funny at all.

"The Collinses seem very happy in their marriage." He changed the subject abruptly.

"They get along well, yes." Elizabeth was glad for the new topic.

"It must be very agreeable to be able to work together the way they do. Not every couple has that possibility."

"Well, they are newlyweds, I guess they like to be together all the time, but I think that being 24 hours a day with the same person can be very trying sometimes." Especially when that person is Wilbur Collins.

"You wouldn't wish to be with someone all day long?"

"It isn't easy to answer that question. I believe that it depends on the company. I get along very well with Charlotte or my sister but ..."

"I didn't mean it that way. I was referring to couples, not sisters or friends." His eyes were fixed in his hands.

Elizabeth frowned, not understanding what his point was. "Couples? Do you mean couples that are together all day long?" The first image that came to her mind was of her parents. No. Definitely, that wasn't a good example. "I can't say. I suppose it works for some and it doesn't for others. I don't know if it would work for me. I tend to get bored by routine very quickly."

He nodded, never lifting his eyes. "I see." he cleared his throat noisily. "You didn't go home for the weekend."

"I preferred to stay. It's so beautiful here and I really needed some peace. This week has been very hard and I know there's more work waiting for me at Longbourn."

Darcy rose his eyes to look at her. "So you don't mind being away from home that much."

That was a weird question. She gazed at him with a puzzled expression. "I'm not sure, it depends."

For a moment, he stared at her as if expecting her to say something else, and looked as if he would say something himself, but then rose and scratched the back of his head.

"I have to go, they are expecting me. Give my regards to the Collinses." He smiled briefly. "Bye."

"Bye." She watched him walk away with a pensive look. When he reached the gate, he turned slightly for one more parting glance in her direction and then disappeared into the grove.

Elizabeth remained looking at the gate for a long time. She would never be able to understand him.

That Sunday, the day that followed Darcy's mysterious visit to the cottage, Elizabeth took Petticoat for a ride around the estate. After a week of riding her only for training purposes, she thought that they both deserved to go out just for the fun of it. It was obvious that Petticoat wasn't used to this -the birds, the sounds of the woods- the mare was studying everything around her with curious eyes but it was also clear that she was liking the relaxed rhythm they were having. What Elizabeth never imagined was that during this solitary walk she would find Mr. Darcy.

"Hey," he approached her.

Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to his horse. Hercules, the bay gelding that was sent to Rosings to rest for a couple of months. She heard that that horse had jumped almost every championship in England during the past 18 months and was suffering from severe stress.

"Hi," she replied, frowning at his choice of horse. "I didn't know he could be ridden yet."

"No one said he couldn't, only that he shouldn't compete. Sometimes is best to take them out for a walk, just like you are doing now with Petticoat. And I know he loves the outdoors." Darcy patted Hercules' neck. "He would be an excellent horse for field trials or hunting. I don't know why they insist in making him travel all round the country to compete in indoor arenas. He suffers so much during transportation."

"You seem to know him pretty well."

"He stayed at Pemberley during the first phase of his training. I rode him a couple of times in the past." Elizabeth noticed that he paired his horse with Petticoat and that he would proceed with her. She didn't recall voicing such an invitation.

"She is very good." Darcy eyed the mare.

"Yes, she is."

Elizabeth remained silent, but unfortunately for her, against his taciturn nature, Darcy seemed to be in a talkative mood today.

"When are you returning home?"

"In a week or so. They will remove Charlotte's cast in a few days and as soon as she's OK to ride I'll go back home."

He gazed at the trees. "What will you do then?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "help my father, get another job, find a way to pay for college ..."

"What do you want to study?" He seemed interested in that.

"Animal science. I want to focus in reproduction."

"Do you have any idea of where?"

"I don't know." she shrugged. "There are several universities I could attend. Haven't decided yet."

"There are very good schools in the North." his tone was casual.

Also in the South, and the West and the East. "I know."

"It's very nice up there."

"I'm sure it is." As it usually happened when she was with him, his inquisitiveness about her private affairs irritated her. She began to look around impatiently.

"Have you ever been in Derbyshire?" he glanced in her direction.

"No, never." Elizabeth was getting tired of this interrogatory. "Listen, I have to go back, you go on." She turned the horse and returned to the cottage.

"Fine, bye." He watched her go.

Darcy glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Three in the morning. He already tried everything, drinking milk, counting sheep, everything, but every time he closed his eyes Elizabeth was there, smiling provocatively at him, teasing him, making him want her.

This was not the first time he dreamed about her, it happened often while he was at Netherfield, but then he left for Brussels and it became sporadic. But now, since he arrived at Rosings it was happening every night. They were usually pleasant dreams, some of them were even erotic but there was one in particular that was repeated with a certain frequency and that always left him troubled and sleepless.

In this dream, he was walking by a stream, and Elizabeth suddenly appeared in front of him. He touched her face, he reached out to embrace her, but when he was about to kiss her, she pushed him away and escaped. He tried to go after her but then he realized that he was rooted to the ground. All he wanted to do was to follow her, to be with her, to love her but he couldn't move. His name, his responsibilities, his life were retaining him there.

This was completely senseless, he thought as he kicked the covers off him. Who said that he couldn't include her in his life? Who said that he couldn't have her? The Nations Cup was over; the Olympics were in two years. There was nothing now in which she would interfere. Nor was there before. He had invented these excuses, created all these obstacles just to keep her away from him and remain safe. Safe from what? What was he afraid of? Nothing. He took a deep breath. He could have everything, he would have everything. Elizabeth, the Olympics, Pemberley. Everything.

Yes. He would have everything. Tomorrow.

That morning the practices ended earlier as Charlotte and Wilbur went to the hospital to remove the cast from Charlotte's forearm. Alone at the cottage and not in the mood for riding, Elizabeth preferred to take a walk through the woods and exercise her legs.

"Elizabeth!" Richard approached her, a little breathless after trotting towards her.

"Hi." She grinned as she glanced at his sweaty jogging outfit. "Running?"

"Yes, I always run about three miles a day. William sometimes comes with me but today he had some business to resolve."

"Go ahead, I wouldn't wish to interrupt your jogging routine."

"No," he said as his breathing returned to normal. "I'm done for today. May a join you in your walk?"

"Sure."

"You did a nice job yesterday, during the practice."

"Thank you. William's suggestion was very helpful."

"He is quite good in what he does. He knows every dirty trick on the book. And some that aren't even there." Richard laughed.

"I'm sure he does." she thought of George.

"He told me that you worked with him while he was training for the Nations Cup."

"Yes, for a couple of months. It was a very good experience. The Midlands is a great team."

"Indeed they are. Louisa is great and Charles is fabulous too."

"Have you known him for long?"

"For a few years. We met several times at Pemberley and at some shows. He also stayed at home when we closed Sonata's deal. Will and I had a very hard time convincing the previous owners to sell her. Charles paid a fortune for her but she is worth every pound."

Elizabeth wondered what would be the cost of a horse like Sonata. "You owned her?"

"One fourth." Richard replied. "Will was very insistent that he should buy her, she is the perfect horse for him. Charles relies very much on William's opinion."

"Really?"

"Not only in horses, in other matters too." He chuckled. "I've heard that Will saved him from some big trouble not long ago. Charles' love life has always been a mess."

"Love life?" Elizabeth asked quietly. She hoped that he wasn't talking about Jane.

"Yes. Charles is a lovesick puppy. If the girl is inadequate for him, he will fall for her and end up heartbroken."

"And he fell for this one."

"Like a rock in a well. Fortunately, William convinced him to leave the place before anything serious happened. So off they went to Brussels and in a new environment, Charles was able to concentrate on his work."

Her heart sank at that very moment. So he was referring to her sister. "And who is William to determine who is appropriate for whom?"

"Do you think he could have been mistaken in his appreciation of the lady in question?"

"Why not?"

"From what I heard, she wasn't very interested in Charles. Anyway, they weren't even dating so no one was hurt."

"What if William was wrong?"

"Well." Richard laughed lightly. "That would lessen very much the integrity of his intentions, don't you think?"

Elizabeth didn't find the joke funny at all. She looked around, thinking of a way to escape Richard's company and return to the cottage.

"Elizabeth, are you all right?" Richard asked, concerned on seeing her sudden paleness.

"No ... yes, I mean, I would like to go back. My head aches."

"Yes, of course." He gestured the road. "I'll walk you back to the cottage."

"Liz, are you sure you don't want to come?" Charlotte asked before leaving for Rosings. "You know the old lady is expecting us all for tea. She wants to see how my arm works without the cast."

"Go Charlotte. I have a terrible headache."

"All right." her friend smiled. "Take an aspirin and go to bed. Wilbur and I will hold the fort if Lady C complains."

"You are a great friend." Elizabeth smiled weakly.

Once alone, she called home to know how every one was doing. Jane wasn't there but Kitty had told her that her sister was quite dull lately. For Elizabeth that only meant that her sister was still pining for Charles Bingley.

She dropped herself on the couch and turned on the TV. She was indignant, furious, revolted. William Darcy was the most insensible, cruel man she had ever met. While she understood the use of stimulants -all right, she didn't, but she knew some people would do anything to win- she couldn't comprehend why he did that to Jane. Did he think that she was not good enough for Charles?

Her headache intensified and she closed her eyes for a moment. She was dozing off when a knock on the door awakened her.

Elizabeth muttered a curse and rose to answer the door. She was not in the mood for company. She opened abruptly and startled when she saw William Darcy's tall frame standing in front of her. "Hi," Darcy passed by her and entered the house before she could voice an invitation -or a dismissal. "I heard you were sick. I hope you are better now." "I am, thank you." She replied, too astonished by his behaviour to say anything else.

He strode towards the other end of the room and stopped in front of the window. He remained there for only a moment and then stood behind the couch.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Yes, thank you." He looked at the chair she was offering and then at her but remained standing.

With a slight frown on his countenance, he walked around the room. Elizabeth didn't have the least intention of having a conversation with this man so she sat and observed him as he paced from one end to another. He then stopped, looked at a painting, turned and sat down in front of her. For a few seconds he remained there, biting his knuckles, his foot rapping the floor, staring at her. She was about to offer him something to drink when he stood up and spoke.

"Elizabeth, I am crazy about you." he said.

She startled. This was the last thing she expected to hear from this man.

"I know I sound completely ridiculous, I don't even know what's wrong with me but I can't go on without telling you how I feel. Our situations in life couldn't be more opposite, we belong to different worlds and you were, after all, my stable hand. But I think we can make this work if we overlook certain details. Your family for example, they are a little 'peculiar', certainly not the kind of people one would like to be connected to, but I'll make the effort if it's important to you. There is also your particular situation that makes me think I'm not doing the right thing, there will be many people who will not approve of this, I hardly approve it myself, but I can't help it. "

Elizabeth was listening in mute astonishment when grabbed by the shoulders and pulled her up to stand on her feet.

He took her face in his hands and spoke close to her mouth. "Oh God, Elizabeth, I want you so badly. You are the most lovely, beautiful, smart and sexy woman I have ever met. You have bewitched me since the day I met you. I dream of you day and night, I can't stop thinking about you so I decided to put an end to this agony and talk to you."

Her eyes widened when he covered her mouth in what can only be described as a very invasive kiss. He pulled back and continued, oblivious to the fact that she was everything but pleased with what was going on.

"Why don't we go to the village to have dinner together? I know this nice place, it's pretty quiet, so there's no risk of being seen together. I would prefer if we keep it secret for some time? I don't know," he chuckled. "I've never done this before. Yes, let's have some dinner and then go to the hotel. I really want to be with you."

"I'm sorry?" The man was completely out of his senses.

"The hotel." He repeated, becoming slightly aware of her crossed countenance but not imagining what could be the cause.

Barely containing her indignation, Elizabeth pushed him away. "How generous of you but ... no thanks."

"No?"

"No."

"May I ask you why?"

"Why? Are you asking WHY?" her voice was full of sarcasm. "Because liking me is ridiculous? Because you don't want to be seen with your stable hand? Is that enough? Or perhaps because of your so gallant invitation to the hotel? That really made me feel flattered."

He remained looking at her in silence, not knowing what to say. This was definitely not going as planned.

"Anyway, I wouldn't go out with you after what you did to Jane." Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest.

"Jane?"

"Yes, Jane." She continued. "I know it was you who took Charles away to keep them apart. Or are you going to say you didn't?"

"I did." he said in a haughty tone. "So?"

This was unbelievable! He admitted it and worst of all, he was even proud of it! Her blood began to boil inside her head. "You hurt her beyond limit, you idiot!" She saw him redden but he didn't say a word. "You don't have any idea of how much she has suffered since he left! But why should I expect something different from you? I was perfectly aware of what kind of bastard you were. George told me everything about you."

"George Wickham?"

"Yes, George. We had some very enlightening chats."

He began to walk slowly around the room, looking very distressed. "You are quite interested in him, aren't you?"

"What if I am? What you did to him is absolutely despicable. After all he had suffered because of you, you ..."

Darcy laughed ironically. "George is suffering, that's a good one."

"You denied him what rightfully belonged to him and now you laugh at him? What kind of unfeeling bastard are you?"

He glared at her. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Yes!" Completely incensed, she blurted out all those things she had been holding inside of her for months. "You treated him and all of us with contempt, you didn't allow me to do my job, you scorned my abilities, you disappeared without saying goodbye to the people who worked with you. And what you did to win!" She accused, "that's absolutely unforgivable!"

"I can't believe I wasted my time with a childish, immature, ill-behaved and low class brat like you." Elizabeth gasped, but that didn't stop him. "You," Darcy pointed his finger at her, "should be proud that a man like me asked you out. I thought you were different, but no, you are just like anyone else. A little smooth talk and you are ready to believe what the first idiot you meet tells you. Perhaps you would have preferred the same from me, idle flattery, something to satisfy your vanity and maybe some whispered lies in your ear like the ones your friend George told you. But I am not that kind of man."

"Oh no, you are not. You are a perfect gentleman." she replied, hands on her hips, her tone sarcastic. "You are the kind of man who insults a woman and her family before asking her to go out for dinner and sex! What I don't understand, is why you are asking me out if you don't even want to be seen with me!"

He blinked and coloured instantly. "Do you think that someone in my position would be proud of liking a girl with no background or education or to date the person that cleans my horse's stall?"

That was enough for her. Elizabeth faced him angrily. "You are wrong, sir. You believe yourself so much above the rest of us to treat us like human beings. The fact that I was your stable hand, that I was not born in a golden crib like you did doesn't make me a less respectable person. So forget about me be cause nothing, not even you asking in a polite or even sensible way, would have tempted me to accept you."

His mortification was evident but she went on. "From the very beginning you have shown yourself as the most arrogant, conceited and disdainful person I have ever met, your vulgar 'proposition' being just another example of the rudeness you are capable of." She looked at him with fiery eyes. "Let me tell you this, William Darcy: You may be England's hottest horseman but be certain that I will never, EVER go out with you!"

He swallowed hard before addressing her in cold voice. "All right, Elizabeth, I get the point. Forgive me for my intrusion. Good night."

Elizabeth's mind was in such a turmoil that she could not yet process what had just happened. After Darcy's departure she ran to back to the house, locked herself inside her room and remained there, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene in her mind again and again.

He liked her. No, he was crazy about her. So crazy as to ask her to dine out and to a hotel. Insulting. Who the hell did he think he was? Who the hell did he think she was? He called her an uneducated brat. A childish, immature, ill behaved, uneducated, low class brat. But he was crazy about her anyway.

She hated him.

She rolled onto her side and embraced the pillow.

Wow, he was a great kisser.

Darcy stormed into the house, avoiding everyone's presence, going directly to his room. She refused him. The little brat refused him. No one had ever refused him but she did. He paced the room, a sickening feeling growing inside his stomach as her words echoed in his head. Arrogant, conceited, disdainful, unfeeling selfish bastard.

"So George had been saying things about me?" He spoke to himself. "She will know who George Wickham is."

He walked to the desk and wrote for hours, telling her things that he wished to forget, until when, exhausted, he went to bed.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, his eyelids surrendering to his tiredness.

England's what?

Elizabeth woke up with a headache. She thought she would feel better in the morning but she wasn't. Horrible. She was feeling horrible. Fortunately there was no one up yet, for she wasn't in a mood for company. She took a shower, dressed and left the house.

Darcy woke up when the sun hit his face. How long had he slept? One hour? Two? The last time he saw the clock it was almost five. Terrible. He was feeling terrible. He couldn't remain there any longer. He had to get away, away from her. He took a long shower, dressed and went to deliver his letter.

The morning was sunny and warm. A lovely morning everyone would say, perfect weather, clear skies, birds singing, fresh breeze, lovely indeed. Who cared about this lovely and perfect morning? Couldn't the f***ing birds just shut up? Both Darcy and Elizabeth thought that this was the worst morning of their lives. It was like waking up with a hangover, wishing that last evening didn't happen but knowing it did, wanting something to ease the pain but knowing it didn't exist.

The last person Elizabeth thought she would find on her way during that walk was William Darcy. But there he was. She saw him standing not far away and immediately turned her direction to avoid the meeting. Unfortunately, he saw her and walked in her direction with a determined stride.

"Elizabeth." he called her.

It would be pathetic to run away. She faced him bravely. "Yes?"

He handed her an envelope. "Would you read this letter, please?"

She showed herself calm and composed, almost indifferent. She was proud of her behaviour so far. "Fine."

Darcy remained standing there, looking at her, apparently wanting to say something else, but at length he thanked her and walked away. She watched him go, wishing she would never see him again, but also feeling a little guilty for for those dark circles under his eyes.

Intrigued by its contents, she opened the envelope and found a letter. Three sheets of handwritten paper. She sat on a fallen log and read:

Elizabeth,

This letter has not the intention of upsetting you or in any way to repeat the words that you found so disgusting a few hours ago. Our meeting last evening was equally distressing for both of us and, though I would rather forget everything that was said, I feel the need to clarify the charges I was accused of and defend myself in the only way I know: telling the truth.

Before I proceed, I must tell you that some of the information you are going to receive is of a private nature. I rely in your secrecy and I trust that you will not make it public.

During the argument, you said I separated your sister from my friend. You are right, I did it, but with no intention of bringing pain to either party.

Elizabeth folded the letter. The nerve of the man! He didn't consider the separation of two people in love as painful? She began to doubt Darcy's intelligence. She opened the letter again and continued her reading, now even angrier than before.

Charles and I have been friends for many years now and I can say that I know him very well. He is a good man with a generous soul but quite modest and insecure where his heart is concerned. In the time I've known him, I've seen him fall in love many times and then suffer in the hands of unscrupulous women, as he tends to overreact when matters don't turn out as he expects.

During our stay at Netherfield, I noticed that Charles liked your sister. It was quite obvious, I must admit, but it wasn't until the ball at the Olympia that I realized that he was falling seriously for Jane. On the other hand, your sister, though apparently receptive, didn't look very interested in him.

"Of course!" cried Elizabeth. "You are the perfect judge of the others' characters! Allow me to tell you, Mr. Darcy, you are wrong!"

I decided to stand aside on that matter and leave Bingley to live his own life. But then, at the Olympia, right before our departure, I overheard a conversation that made me reconsider that decision. In this conversation, in which you participated, I heard your sister saying that she didn't hold any special feelings towards Charles other than friendship, despite your mother's and Charlotte's insistence that she should encourage a relationship with him.

"Eavesdropping, Mr. Darcy? Shame on you."

Knowing my friend as I do and after what I heard, I thought best to preserve his emotional balance until the Nations Cup was over. Perhaps you will think this mercenary or cold hearted, but the members of the Midlands team, as a group and as individuals, and especially Charles and myself, have very important contracts with sponsors that oblige us to have a certain performance and that involves too much money to be overlooked.

I didn't tell him what I heard nor did I discourage a relationship with Jane, I only asked him that, with our departure scheduled in two days, whether it would be wise to get involved with someone on the eve of an important competition and when he was about to leave. Recalling his previous experiences, he agreed with me and decided to let the matter cool down until the end of the European Tour. In that way, he could put some distance between your sister and himself and focus his attention on our principal and immediate goal. I should add that it wasn't very difficult to convince him as he expressed that he wasn't very sure about Jane's attachment. Right there, Charles suggested to reschedule our departure for the Continent to the following morning instead of Wednesday, as planned. I must confess that I agreed to it immediately and even encouraged it, not only to 'take him away' as you said last evening but to escape from the irresistible attraction I was feeling towards you.

Elizabeth bit her lip. He ruined her sister's and his friend's life only to protect himself from her? Selfish, hateful man.

I know I shouldn't have let my own interests interfere in others people's lives, I am not proud of what I did but it has already happened and I can only apologize for my actions. As for Charles, I am ignorant of the reasons why he didn't call your sister after his return, though I know that he has been busy with some family matters that required his personal intervention.

"Well, at least you admit you are a selfish bastard."

Elizabeth folded the letter and walked towards the cottage, furious at him because of his interference but also flattered that she had so much power over the almighty William Darcy.

Angry for surrendering to her curiosity and, most of all, for wasting her time in reading his letter, she sat in the shadow of a tree and continued to read.

The other subject that needs an explanation is the one concerning George Wickham. You said that I took away from him what rightfully belonged to him and that I did something 'unforgivable' to assure myself a victory. I'm not certain of what you meant by this, so I suppose that George, as is his habit, lied about everything he said concerning me.

Just for you to know who we are talking about, I will enlighten you about Mr. George Wickham and his connection with my family.

George's father was the late manager of Pemberley stables for many years. He was an excellent person and a very reputed trainer. Under his care and guidance, the stables produced some very successful horses for sports. Mr. Bernard Wickham died in an unfortunate accident at the stables, when a horse kicked him on the chest and he suffered a heart attack. My father was devastated. His friend and right hand died while he was serving him well, so he promised himself that he would do anything within his reach to help his family. It was in that way that George shared my education in England's top schools and accompanied me to every horse event.

It was not until we were at college that I realized who George really was. I am not someone to judge people because of their sexual preferences, but having him partying around with almost every man he met or entertaining elder gentlemen as a source of income is something I would not consent to or approve. Unfortunately this wasn't his only vice, it was just a way of supporting and financing his other passion: gambling.

Elizabeth's astonishment was such that she had to read this paragraph a second time. And then, with a growing sensation of sickness in the pit of her stomach, she read on.

George had always been a talented horseman, having the opportunity to ride the best products of the stables while he worked for us. Though I was in Cambridge at the time, I still competed sporadically and he travelled with me to the tournaments, also competing himself, with some acceptable results. But he had neither the inclination nor discipline to improve his skills, so his career as a professional show jumper never began. At the time I was riding a very good horse and decided to participate in an important show in Oxford. On the night previous to the event, I went to the stables to check on my horse. There I heard voices coming from the next stall and I recognized George's among them. What I heard that night shocked me immensely. Wickham was betting a very important sum on me and he was paying someone to drug my competitor's horse with tranquillisers to ruin his performance.

I confronted him at that very minute. After a harsh argument, I fired him. I didn't accuse him in front of the authorities nor did I inform my father about it. I know I should have exposed his character to everyone but as no damage was done and I had no proof of his intentions, I preferred to maintain the secrecy and just told him to vanish from the show jumping world. After all, I was the principal beneficiary if that horse was eliminated and as my father's health was beginning to deteriorate, I didn't want my name involved in a scandal of the kind.

Then, I was happy for not having to see him again. I didn't hear from him for some time, until he reappeared in my life under some very painful circumstances.

Oh dear, there was more. An overwhelming feeling of guilt and remorse invaded her.

My father died three years ago, eight months after that forgettable encounter in Oxford, after an illness that confined him to bed and impeded him to work. It was then when I found myself in charge of a younger sister, the management of the family business and Pemberley stables. I concentrated my efforts in my sister, the stables and my professional career, delegating the company to one of my father's associates.

I suppose George said something to you about my father's will and I feel it is my obligation to enlighten you on that matter.

My father had not been buried for two weeks when Mr. Wickham came to claim his inheritance. The testament was specific: George should receive, after my father's death, an important sum in cash and five fine horses from Pemberley Stables to start his own career as a horse breeder and trainer. My father made a list of ten from where George would have the opportunity to choose. Among them was Miss D, a beautiful young mare that was the first product with aptitudes for international competition. Unfortunately, no one suspected her abilities when she was included on that list at the young age of six months, and when my father became ill, that became my last preoccupation.

Miss D. was the pride and joy of my existence. I trained her since she was ready for riding and we were competing at our first shows when George claimed his ownership on her. I couldn't stop him from taking what so undeservingly belonged to him, so I was relieved when he expressed that he wanted to try his fortune in other areas and that the money he inherited wasn't enough to make a start. That is how I acquired all five horses, including Miss D, in the plain sum of £ 300.000.

"This can't be true!" cried Elizabeth. "George can't invent something like this!" One part of her didn't want to believe it, but the other knew that Darcy was telling the truth.

Finished with that business, he left and I did not hear from him for some time. How he lived I knew not, nor I cared, but, unfortunately a year later, our paths crossed again.

I always have been a lover of horses and jumping is my passion. The company was doing very well with its manager so I decided to supervise it from the outside and dedicate myself fully to riding professionally. Miss D was ready for the major leagues and we began a very successful campaign together. After winning almost every national championship that year, we began our international campaign.

One weekend we were to compete in a Derby in Devonshire. That show was on the day following to my sister's 18th birthday and as I wanted to be with her on that special day, I sent Miss D with my assistant at the time, Carl Younge, and joined them on the following morning. When I arrived, Miss D was seriously ill and no one could understand what was happening to her. We remained there for a week, fearing for her life, and when she was well enough to travel, we took her back to Pemberley to continue her treatment. She recovered but the damage to her heart was irreversible.

Her hand went to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. George lied. Could she be any more stupid, more naive? She embraced her knees and read on, feeling small, vulnerable and very, very guilty.

I wished that everything would have finished there but it didn't. Her blood tests revealed that she was injected with a cocktail of tranquillisers, innocuous in other circumstances, but that, combined, produced a severe shock and the posterior damage. I talked to Carl, who was in charge of Miss D during my absence, and he confessed that George, with whom he had a 'relationship', asked him to give her the drugs. George was the intermediary in the sale of Montreal, Miss D's principal competitor. The price would certainly rise if he won that event and the best way to assure his victory was to eliminate Miss D from competition. Begging for forgiveness, Carl told me that it was only meant to make her lose, that he was told that the drugs were inoffensive and there would be no consequences.

Grieved, I retired from competition and remained at Pemberley, not wanting to be part of a world that almost killed my horse. Again, I preferred to keep this matter private, trying to protect from a doping scandal the good name of the stables that my father had so carefully founded.

She could almost feel his pain at that moment. If this was true, she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

One year ago, encouraged by my cousin Richard, co-breeder and co-owner of Tuareg, I decided to return to the arena and try my luck once again. I hope you understand now why I'm so zealous of my horse. I never intended to hurt you or was it my wish to imply that you are not capable or trustworthy. I'm truly sorry that my behaviour towards you gave you that impression.

If you have any doubts on this matter, you can ask my cousin, Richard, who knows everything that happened where Wickham is concerned. He can answer any question you would wish to ask him.

I must only add that, despite of everything that happened last night, I believe you are the most wonderful person I've ever met.

Sincerely

WD

"Liz! There you are." Charlotte called to her when she entered the cottage. "We were quite worried about you, you left so unexpectedly this morning."

"I needed some air, Charlotte. Any news?"

"Well, yes." Charlotte gazed at her friend with dubious eyes. She didn't look well. "Darcy and Richard were here. They are leaving today and stopped to say good-bye. It seems that Darcy learned some manners during his stay on the continent as at least this time he had the decency to show up before leaving."

Elizabeth smiled insincerely. "Yeah, sure. I'll be in my bedroom, I have some things to do."

"Don't forget that we're having tea with Lady C this afternoon!" Charlotte reminded her as Elizabeth climbed the stairs.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. An evening with the old Lady. That was the last thing she needed.

The path that separated Rosings with the Collinses' cottage had never been so long. All the way to the mansion, Elizabeth had to endure hearing Wilbur talking about Darcy, Charlotte replying about Darcy and seeing the places where she had met Darcy. And she was certain that at Rosings, Lady C would mention him at some point of the conversation. The world was against her. No matter how much she tried to forget him, someone or something in her surroundings would remind her of him.

So he was crazy about her. That's why he was always staring at her in that way; the jerk was crazy about her! But, why did he have to say all those things? Why did he have to be so offensive? And what he did to Jane. Unforgivable. He said he did it to protect his friend and himself just for money. Mercenary. Hateful. She wondered how much money they made with the sponsorships. A fortune, probably. Who cares anyway? But he couldn't invent all those things about George. No one could invent something like that, so it had to be true. Oh God! George was gay! She was falling for a guy that was not only gay but a perverted gay prostitute!

'He couldn't be lying about that! I can't believe I am THAT stupid!'

So Darcy had a very tragic life. So? How old was he anyway? Twenty nine, yes, twenty nine, she read that in a magazine a couple of months ago. She recalled it very well, it said: 'William Darcy, now 29, is the youngest and one of the most successful riders in the UK that are competing internationally.' Gorgeous picture, she almost swooned when she saw it. She even cut it out and put it in her show jumping album. If he was 29, that meant that he was 26 when his father died. Quite young. Very young. Surely it was quite difficult for him to be in charge of so many things at that age. Perhaps his mother helped him. Mother? Why would he be in charge of a younger sister if he had a mother? No, that meant that his mother was either dead or far away. Wow. That made her feel even more ashamed of herself and sorry for him. 'Wait a minute, I don't have to be ashamed of anything, he was the one that insulted me!' Yes, that was clear. He was the insulting jerk so there was no feeling sorry for him. But she had to admit he was a great kisser, no one had ever kissed her in that way before. Yeah, great, and incredibly handsome too, gorgeous, and he was craz...

"... don't you think, Elizabeth?" Charlotte asked her.

"Uh?" Elizabeth was called out of her reverie and saw Lady Catherine standing in front of her. They were already at Rosings, more precisely in the North sitting room and she hadn't even noticed it.

"The new curtains, they looked lovely."

"Yes, fine, lovely." She answered quickly.

"Blue is a very distinguished colour," said Lady Catherine as they sat for tea, "you will have to change the carpet too. I'll see if I have one that fits in your living room, though all my carpets are very large and so exclusive. My late husband had a passion for Persian rugs."

"You are so generous, Lady Catherine," Wilbur began, "for allowing us to ..."

"I'll go tomorrow to see them for myself. Maybe there are some other things that need to be changed." She then looked at Elizabeth. "You are quite dull this evening, Miss Bennet, are you unwell?"

"No, I'm fine."

Her Ladyship frowned. "Perhaps you can take a couple of days off and visit your family. That might help you."

"Well, thank you, Lady Catherine, but I am leaving at the end of the week, Charlotte is all right now and I am not needed any anymore."

The old lady seemed taken aback with the comment. "But, are you sure? The horses aren't ready yet and an extra hand will be of help. You can stay for a few more weeks."

Elizabeth only wanted to return home. "I must help my father with the school. I can't stay."

Lady Catherine studied her for a while, but Wilbur distracted her from her thoughts when he asked about her nephews. Her face lit up instantly.

"The finest young men there could be. Richard is so charming and William, well, he is my dear boy. So successful, I am so proud of him."

"Indeed he is, Mr. Darcy is ..."

"Such a sensible young man, so dedicated to his family, so devoted to his professional career." Lacy C sighed, her admiration for her nephew evident in her words.

"Yes, very sensible." Elizabeth muttered.

"And so attached to Rosings and myself. Unfortunately he had to leave a couple of days earlier because some unexpected business demanded his personal intervention. Parting from Rosings has always affected him. He was unusually quiet this morning, I am sure he is already missing this place."

Elizabeth stirred her tea. If she only knew the true reason for Darcy's quietness.

Her Ladyship continued. "We spent some lovely summers together when he was a child. He was such a little gentleman, so well behaved, so responsible." Her eyes watered as those memories came to her mind. "I practically raised him after my sister died. That was a very hard time for all of us, but especially for him. He was only nine years old when that happened. What a tragedy for the family, so unexpected."

Elizabeth felt a lump in her throat as the picture of a boy with sad eyes came to her mind.

Lady Catherine dried her eyes with her handkerchief. "But he has grown up into a fine, excellent man. Some people may think him arrogant but that is because they don't know him well enough, he is only serious and a little bit shy too."

"Indeed, Lady Catherine," Wilbur answered, "a fine man indeed, and so respected in the horse world. I heard that ..."

Elizabeth sank in her seat. She couldn't hear any more. She just wanted to go home.

Darcy wasn't someone who dealt well with rejection or would take a 'no' for an answer. He was used to having his own way in everything and being refused by a simple girl wasn't something he could overcome easily. The first two days after the 'incident' he just wanted to disappear, run away, vanish. He left Rosings under a poorly invented excuse and locked himself in his London flat. He remained there, alone, shades closed, phone disconnected -not that anyone would call him anyway- until, after three days of drowning in scotch and self-pity, he decided to go on with his life.

He bathed, shaved and ate his first decent meal in three days. It was time to go home.

The landscape outside the window was grey and dull. The rain made everything look melancholic, distant, foggy. Thank God she was on her way home.

Elizabeth folded the letter and leaned back in her seat. He liked her. All this time she thought he was finding fault in her, he was admiring her? Could she be any more stupid, more clueless? It was obvious! That day at the Olympia, the dance, those strange visits to the cottage. He was courting her!

Why was she thinking about him anyway?

If she weren't so angry because of his rude invitation, she would have been flattered. The almighty, arrogant, incredibly handsome William Darcy wanted her. England's hottest horseman was crazy about her.

'Oh dear', she pressed her hand on her forehead. 'I can't believe I told him that!'

The grey Mercedes sped down the road at 150 km/h. He just drove, looking without seeing, blind to everything but his troubled emotions.

What kind of woman would refuse someone like him? No one. No woman in her senses would reject a man of his stature. But Elizabeth refused him. She refused him. Why did he care so much, anyway? She was nothing. Nothing. One day, she would realize what she had done, what she was missing, who she had slighted, and that day would see how wrong she was. Yes, one day, Elizabeth Bennet would realize her mistake and that day he would ...

Appearing from nowhere, a brown form crossed in front of the car. Darcy turned the wheel and stepped on the breaks to avoid the collision. He lost control of the vehicle and the Merc began to spin in circles. The tires were screeching, everything moved frantically around him. The car finally stopped and he found himself in the wrong side of the road, facing the opposite direction.

Darcy's breath was shallow and quick, he was sweating cold. He was intact, the car was intact. He opened the door of the car and threw up.

The raindrops tapped the glass one after another, a million times. The ride home was interminable.

She gazed at the letter on her lap. She knew it by memory now. As her rage subsided, another sentiment began to grow inside of her, filling her heart with despair. It was shame. What were the reasons she had to hate him? His silence? That first silly remark? She felt so naive, so stupid, so prejudiced. She couldn't believe she condemned a man only because he was reserved, because a stranger told her some lies! Everyone told her it couldn't be true but she decided to believe what George told her without seeing the inconsistency of that statement with Darcy's conduct. How could she believe him capable of drugging his own horse after she had seen him with Tuareg? The man loved horses! He was the most considerate and gentle person she had ever seen! So why had she thought that? Because George said it? No, George never said it directly. He only implied it and she assumed the rest. Her hatred for Darcy was based on a miserable lie that she invented.

And then there was the Jane affair. If he overheard that conversation, there was some right in his reasoning. He shouldn't have interfered but they were professionals and, if they left all their life behind for that tour, it would be stupid to risk it when they were about to reach their goal.

Until now, she had not known herself. She had thought herself clever, smart, sensible? Since she met him, his irresistible magnetism had always unsettled her, disturbed her. He had become almost an obsession and no matter how much she tried to take him from her thoughts, he was always there, so mysterious, so powerful, so attractive, and she had hated him for that.

William Darcy wasn't the man she thought he was. As she pondered his conduct, she realized that, with the exception of his tactless proposition and his brutally frank remarks about her family, he had always been very nice towards her. Silent, perhaps a little distant, but always nice and proper. The way he embraced her to thank her after his win, when they danced together, or the way he smiled shyly, almost embarrassed, during that conversation in the porch. He was always nice and gentle despite her impertinent responses. Like that morning he helped her out with Liddy in the field outside Longbourn. He was not only kind enough to show her some tips but he had behaved really, really nicely. He seemed to be another person at the time. Which one was the real Darcy?

I've never been good with people, he told her once. What if it was just that? With the horses, he was the best, he seemed to know exactly what to say and what to do, but she had never seen him look comfortable among people. Incomprehensible in a man on of his stature, of his education, but not at all improbable.

She took the letter in her hand once again and admired his handwriting. Lovely handwriting. Strong, firm, confident. Just like him. She could imagine how hard it must have been for him to swallow his pride and give her this letter or exposing his soul in the way he did. But he did it.

A droplet ran down the glass capturing many others in its irregular descent. She would never be able to forget him. Charlotte was right, she was crazy about him.

Darcy looked at the sunset until it was almost dark. The cloudy horizon turned into one million different colours before enveloping him with darkness. 'It must be raining somewhere.'

He failed. He made not only one, but a long series of stupid mistakes. He had battled his own feelings for her for months, holding back his desires, and when he released them, he did it in the most un-gentlemanlike, idiotic and pathetic way there could be. He couldn't recall his own words without feeling ashamed of himself. And he thought he was educated, well bred, superior? There was no respect or sensibility in his words, just selfishness and conceit. In half an hour he managed to insult in every possible way the woman he loved.

His behavior was pitiful. He took her for granted. What had gotten into him when he asked her to go to a hotel with him? How could he ask her out in such a disrespectful way? And when he implied that he preferred not to be seen with her? Unbelievable. Of course he wanted to be seen with her! He wanted to go everywhere with her! He didn't even mean it that way! His social ineptitude astonished him. God, didn't he learn anything during his 29 years of living in the world? He had never been good at this 'dating game', in fact he had not asked a woman out in ages -and that didn't come out brilliant either-, but that was not an excuse for his insulting behaviour. No wonder she was so angry.

Darcy shook his head and smiled bitterly. If it weren't so dramatic, it would be funny, ridiculous, unbelievable. William Darcy, the powerful, rich, successful William Darcy didn't know how to ask a girl out. In his egotistic and presumptuous stupidity he assumed that she liked him, that she would feel honored to go out with him and never considered her feelings. He was sure that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Could he be any more clueless?

And his letter. That was just another demonstration of his rudeness. He didn't even apologize for his insulting words. And, as if that would be a plausible excuse, he confessed having separated Jane and Charles only to protect himself from her. She was right about him. He was a selfish, unfeeling bastard.

Elizabeth Bennet had all the reasons in the world to hate him, to despise him. She said truths that he never expected to hear, that he didn't want to hear, but truths anyway and he had hated her for saying them. No, he didn't hate her. He loved her.

The darkness surrounded him, the silence, the emptiness, the overwhelming sensation of acknowledging his own true feelings. He, William Darcy, was utterly, completely and madly in love with Elizabeth Bennet.

The comfort and protection that Elizabeth was expecting to find at home when she escaped from Rosings weren't there when she arrived. Longbourn was a mess, she could not deny it any longer. Maybe it had always been like this, or perhaps she had changed while she was away, but all that idleness, that carelessness to which she remained oblivious before she left were now so obvious to her eyes that she couldn't understand how she had not seen them before.

Her mother was ... her mother. Vulgar, noisy, careless, manipulative. As soon as Elizabeth arrived, Fanny gave her an effusive embrace, one of those that would cut one's breath away and then began an interrogatory. She wanted to know everything about the Collinses' lifestyle, Rosings and the pompous Lady Catherine. When she was done with that, she asked how much money Elizabeth had earned for her work and confiscated part of her salary to pay some the household's debts. Thank God Elizabeth lied about the amount; if not, her savings for college would have been lost forever.

Kitty was useless. At the age of eighteen, she was still thinking of what to do with her life, a subject she had been preoccupying her during the past twelve months but did not produce a reaction from her part yet. Kitty's major (and only) concerns at the moment were her fingernails and her new boyfriend, Anthony Parker, a sort of rapper who had not seen a comb or the inside of a shower for at least a fortnight. Kitty had never been brilliant, in fact, she was quite silly, so her possibilities to progress in life were very limited if she didn't do 'something' to improve her mind. Watching her polish her nails all day long and drool over this sack of fleas made Elizabeth sick at her stomach.

Mary didn't care much about anything at home either, she was the 'reader' of the family, and never helped them much with the work at the farm but at least had the decency of finding a job while she waited to something about her life. However, she appeared to have made a decision lately, because as soon as she got home, Elizabeth learned that her 'intellectual' sister, the one that had been 'behind her books' all this time, had spent the past year reading some cheap erotic science fiction novels and was even planning writing one herself. Mary a writer? Ridiculous!

Her father, well, he deserved a separate chapter. He was hardly at home. Since George's departure -she learned that he and Denny had had a major split-up-, Thomas had been absorbed in some 'business' that no one had any idea of what it was and that kept him from home all day long. He was only seen at the dining table on rare occasions and with a temper that made everyone wonder what was wrong with him. At least he hired someone to help him with the horses so Elizabeth would not have to do all the work by herself now that she was back, a boy named Phil Saunderson, who would be in charge of the heavy work while Elizabeth took care of the training and Thomas of the few students that were still attending the riding school.

Undoubtedly, the one that suffered the most during Elizabeth's absence was Jane. She was doing everything she could do to help, but it never seemed enough. Her work at the racecourse was getting really busy and with the few private patients she had she didn't have time to see after the farm's administration anymore.

During their first night after her arrival, the sisters acquainted themselves with everything that happened during the month that Elizabeth was away. Jane, for her part, told her sister about her suspicions that things were not going well at Longbourn.

"He said what?" Jane's incredulity was evident.

"Exactly what you heard. After declaring that he was crazy about me, he invited me to a hotel." Elizabeth grinned proudly. Now that the shock was over, she found the situation very amusing.

"I can't believe it!" Jane laughed. "I haven't heard a proposition of that kind since school! Well, I received once not long ago but the guy was completely drunk. I can't believe a man like Darcy would be capable of saying something like that! And what did you say? Did you slap him?"

"No, I didn't, but I told him a few things that I'm sure he didn't expect to hear."

"Poor guy, he must be trying to figure out what hit him."

"He wrote me a letter; he even delivered it personally."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "A love letter?"

"No, not exactly. He explained a few things that popped out during the argument." She bit her lower lip and looked down in embarrassment.

"Oh, Lizzy, don't tell me you said that thing that George told you, did you? I never believed that to be possible."

"Jane, I'm so ashamed." She then related what Darcy disclosed about George in his letter, to Jane's utter shock.

"It's not the first case I've heard about tissue damage with tranquillisers." Jane said with a frown. "Thoroughbreds could be quite difficult to handle sometimes and I've seen some vets use them in an indiscriminate way because they think them innocuous. But some of them are quite dangerous, especially on sensible horses. Surely he must have used quite an explosive mix to get her so ill."

Elizabeth smiled and extended her hand to touch her sister's. "You look tired, Jane, is everything all right with you?"

"I'm fine. Work has increased lately. Dr. Lucas passed me some of his patients and things are really getting hard at the racecourse. I can't complain, though. This is what I studied for. If I weren't giving mother so much money to pay the farm's expenses I could be buying the car I need. It would be much easier with my own car instead of having to depend on Dr. Lucas' driving."

"I don't understand what's going on here. We have always lived without your salary and I can't understand where all the money is going. I learned from Phil that there aren't many students at the riding school right now. Maybe that's causing the problem."

"I don't know." Jane shook her head, looking very distressed. "Dad didn't say anything, but I think there are problems with the bank."

Elizabeth shuddered. "I'm glad that George isn't here now. Darcy mentioned something about gambling and I would prefer if he isn't around Dad anymore."

"You are right, thank God he left for good." Jane said pensively.

"So he is gay." Elizabeth sighed.

"I always suspected that there was something wrong with him, though he disguises it pretty well." Jane smirked. "All Meryton knows about their fight. I heard that Denny kicked him out of his apartment, that he threw George's stuff out of the windows and it was spread all over the street. It seems that George was cheating on him."

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. "I can't believe I even liked him. I'm so stupid."

"Don't be so hard upon yourself, Liz, we all make those kind of mistakes." She giggled at her sister's sceptical look. "Well, almost everyone! Now, tell me more about the 'I'm crazy about you' part. I want details!"

Elizabeth proceeded to tell her how ardently Mr. Darcy admired and desired her.

Elizabeth returned to her routine at the farm but now with her goal set on planning her future. As painful as it was for her to admit it, she knew now that she would never be able to progress if she remained at Longbourn. With the exception of Jane, she was surrounded by mediocrity and idleness and she didn't want to stay in that environment for much longer. She inquired about loans, career plans and jobs. Two weeks later, she filled out the form with her grades and sent it to the Universities and Colleges Admissions Service. Her choices were Reading, Nottingham, Aberystwyth and Sheffield. Now she only had to wait for them to call her and figure out how to pay for her education. She even thought of selling Liddy but knowing she would be much more valuable if she was competing successfully, she began a serious training program to prepare her for the upcoming season.

"Hello everyone." Mr. Bennet entered the house at an unusually late hour.

"Where have you been?" Fanny was annoyed by his attitude. "It's almost nine, we already had supper."

"Out." he said in a dismissing tone.

"Thomas, there is work to do here and there are students coming tomorrow. You can't arrive at this hour."

"Lizzy is here now and Phil is helping too. I was trying to close a deal with Angus for the winter." He didn't look worried by the upbraiding.

"A deal? What kind of deal?"

"He is receiving six new horses for the winter and he doesn't have room for them in his stables so he asked me if I can take care of them here at Longbourn. It's just housing and light exercising."

"What kind of horses?" asked Elizabeth.

"Polo ponies. Just for the winter break."

"We don't have room for 6 horses."

"We'll make it. The two ponies can go to the barn and perhaps its time to sell Nellie."

"Nellie?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. That was their best horse for teaching children. She was getting old, but she was an excellent horse nonetheless.

"Yes. Angus offered me a good sum for her. A friend of his needs a horse for his children and he thought she could be a good choice."

Elizabeth only stared at him, becoming suspicious. She preferred not to argue with him, though, lest he would suggest that they could sell Liddy as a way to make room for these horses.

"Oh," Thomas handed her a magazine, "I almost forgot. Look what I've got here. Nations Cup and Jerez special edition."

Elizabeth took the magazine from his hands and her eyes, mind and heart suddenly became oblivious to any other thing around her. On the cover, there was the most spectacular picture of William Darcy she had ever seen.

In one instant, Elizabeth was in her bedroom, leg-crossed on the bed, devouring the pages of this special Edition of Equiworld Magazine featuring the Samsung Nation's Cup and Jerez World Championship, and most of all, the object of her dreams.

Her heart fluttered with every turn of the page. The cover alone was amazing. The magazine was big, tabloid size, and Darcy and Tuareg occupied almost all of it. They were jumping a parallel, in a fabulous picture that showed them so close that she could almost touch them. She didn't know how they managed to take that photograph, as it was taken in a 3/4 profile angle at an obstacle that, as she remembered, was in the middle of the course. He looked gorgeous, inclined over the horse's neck, mouth partially open, eyes already calculating the distance to the next hurdle, aboard an alert Tuareg, in an attitude that said 'the Nations Cup is mine'.

Almost half of the magazine was dedicated to the two major equestrian events of the continent and a few other important shows. Elizabeth counted twelve pictures that included Darcy: him alone, with the other members of the team, with Tuareg, receiving his trophy, with Charles, and some spectacular jumping photos. Her heart skipped a beat on seeing each one of them and her pulse quickened in every section where he was mentioned.

Two articles caught her attention. There was an interview to the Midlands Team (two full pages) where Darcy -and the others- talked about how the team was created, his early beginnings in the professional arena and the responsibility, dedication and personal sacrifice that competing at this level meant. There was also a section where he mentioned the strong attachment he had with his horse and a short reference about their stay at Netherfield that melted her away. The other article was about Darcy and Tuareg. Her hands trembled as she read.

Million Dollar Team

The show jumping scene has not seen a team like this in many years. Since Hans Winkler's retirement after winning the Olympic gold for the fifth time, we have not seen a pair work with this excellence. After an outstanding year that includes wins at the Olympia and several other important trophies, British rider William Darcy has reached the top after winning one of the world's most important shows, the Samsung Nations Cup, setting a new standard for the word professionalism in this sport. Now focused on Athens 2004, Darcy had refused a one million dollar offer for the magnificent 9 year old Tuareg and recently renewed his sponsorship with Mercedes-Benz in what is considered the highest contract ever signed in the equestrian world.

Owner of the reputed Pemberley stables and highly respected in the breeding and riding circles in the UK, this young man is known for his precision, tenacity and talent since he started galloping the show jumping arenas at the young age of 14. Undoubtedly, Darcy has formed a team with the unique Tuareg that will surely be remembered by many generations.

Elizabeth closed the magazine with a proud smile. This man was crazy about her.

With three new horses to train and Liddy's imminent debut, there was not much Elizabeth could think about but her work in the weeks that followed her return from Rosings. She didn't want to think of anything else, that was the truth. Every day there was a new problem at home and she couldn't stand her mother's complaints or her father's obliviousness any more.

Longbourn was falling apart before her eyes and she didn't want to see it. It was tough for a twenty-one year old girl that was making enormous sacrifices for her family's welfare to witness how they evaded responsibilities. That was how she blinded herself to situations that were too obvious to escape her notice but that she didn't want to confront. Something wrong was happening and no one cared to notice it. Piece by piece, the farm was disappearing. By the end of the month the two ponies they used for children's riding lessons were already sold to pay some debts and she feared that, if they continued this way, there would be no riding school -a decent source of income in the summer- for them to run.

Her only escape from her oppressive reality were her visits to her aunt and uncle in Aylesbury. Once a week she found herself on the train to visit her relatives, clearing her mind from the farm's problems and relaxing in a homey atmosphere. But most of all, she was grateful to interact with people with common sense.

That Saturday she was particularly interested in visiting them. Her uncle told her that several of his students were to compete in the same show in which she had planned Liddy's debut and she was very enthusiastic about seeing how the children were getting ready for the competition. From what she had seen until now, her uncle had taught them well.

When the older children were done with their lessons, Joe focused on the smaller ones. It was hard to believe it but the little girl he was talking to was only six years old and already jumping one feet obstacles. Leaning on the fence, Elizabeth clapped her hands with every jump and was all praises to the other kids that were trying the higher obstacles through the course.

"Liz!" Maddy called her, "Come! I would like to introduce you to Penny's mother."

"I'm coming!" She walked in her direction.

"June, this is my niece Elizabeth," Maddy introduced them. "Liz, this is June Ashton-Croswell."

Elizabeth shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. Congratulations, your daughter is a great rider."

June smiled. "Thank you, my dear. Joe is doing a great job. She has certainly made great progress since she started in this school."

"Penny's family moved a couple of months ago." Maddy explained. "She had a difficult time adapting to her new home and these lessons have helped her very much."

"Look mommy!" Penny waved enthusiastically. "I'm jumping!"

"That is wonderful sweetie!" June laughed. "Now pay attention to Mr. Gardiner or you will fall! I'll wait for you near the house!"

"Why don't we all wait on the porch until the class is over. Would you like a cup of tea?" Maddy suggested.

"That would be wonderful." June agreed.

The three ladies conversed about the children's progress as they walked towards the house and chatted animatedly while tea was served. Elizabeth found June very agreeable. She seemed to come from rich birth and though not an eager rider herself, she was a horse fan and considered that riding was essential for her daughter's education.

"Liz is also a horse trainer." Maddy commented. "She is training her own mare to compete at Towcester."

"Oh, that is marvellous! Then I'll see you there when I take Penny to watch the show. In which category are you jumping?"

"Advanced. I'll begin jumping her at 3 feet." Elizabeth said enthusiastically. "We'll see how Liddy behaves. It's the first time I'll jump her in a show so I'm quite nervous about it. I have not competed in almost two years."

"I'm sure you'll do great." June patted her hand.

"Liz worked for a very reputed team while they were training for an international show. The Midlands Team." Maddy offered.

"The Midlands?" June raised her eyebrows. "Then you must know William Darcy!"

Elizabeth felt her heartbeat speeding up. "Yes, I do. I assisted them for two months."

"What a lovely coincidence!" she laughed. "And how is dear Will doing? I've not seen him in years!"

"He was fine the last time I saw him, a couple of months ago."

June was really delighted with the connection. "We used to be very close when we were younger; excellent, wonderful man."

Very close? Elizabeth forced a smile. "I guess he is."

"I still remember those lovely summers I spent at Pemberley when my aunt was married to his father. William was so shy. Too reserved for own good, but once we broke the ice we became the best of friends."

"I met his cousin Richard too, while working at Rosings Park."

"Ricky?" June laughed. "Adorable, isn't he? He is the boyfriend of one of my best friends. We were dining together not a month ago, after he returned from Spain."

"Remarkable coincidence." Elizabeth shifted uneasily in her seat.

"Truly remarkable," Maddy refilled June's cup, "tell me about Pemberley. I heard it's beautiful."

"More than beautiful." June sipped her tea. "The house is fantastic and the grounds unique. I used to visit them in the summers during the time my aunt Cecile was married to James Darcy. Is Will as serious as always?" She didn't wait for a reply. "I'm sure he is, and very handsome too, don't you think?" She finished in a knowing tone.

"Yes, quite." Elizabeth smiled faintly.

Maddy glanced in Elizabeth's direction and saw her playing nervously with the spoon.

"Oh, I think the class is over." said June as the children began to exit the schooling pen. "Thank you for the tea, Maddy. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth, I'll see you at Towcester." She kissed the ladies' cheeks and parted to collect her daughter.

"What a coincidence; she knows William Darcy." Maddy said casually before sipping her tea.

"Hmmm." was Elizabeth's reply.

"She seems to think highly of him." Maddy insisted.

"Hmmm."

"Maybe that thing George told you was only a misunderstanding."

"George lied, Aunt Maddy." Elizabeth rose and went to help her uncle with the horses, avoiding any further questioning on the subject.

Elizabeth always returned home refreshed after visiting her relatives. Not only did she love them dearly but she also liked to observe what an excellent relationship they had. Love and respect were palpable in the air and they had built a happy home for their children. If only she felt the same way when she returned to her home ...

The commotion that she received at Longbourn confirmed to her that that would never occur. From the outside, she could already hear the shouts. She recognized Fanny's, probably hysterical about something and ... oh dear, her father was home, and shouting too.

Nothing could prepare her for what she found when she entered the house. Kitty was crying, Mary was comforting her, Fanny was yelling and her father pacing the room, looking as furious as ever, vociferating 'I'll kill him! I'll kill him!'

"What happened?" asked Elizabeth on seeing the scene.

"What happened?" Thomas snapped. "What happened? It happens that your sister is pregnant!"

She gasped. "What?"

"Yes, and when I get that dirty boyfriend of hers I will kill him!"

Elizabeth ran to her sister and sat by her side. She seemed to be in the middle of a nervous breakdown. "Kitty?" she asked in a soft tone. "Are you sure?"

Kitty just nodded and embraced her.

There wasn't much that Elizabeth could say. "Calm down, everything will be fine."

"Fine? Fine?" Thomas continued angrily. "How could this possibly be fine? She's pregnant!"

"Thomas! It already happened and we must support her!" Fanny yelled. "You can't treat her that way!"

"This wouldn't have happened had you educated her properly, Fanny, she is a slut!"

"I am not!" Kitty shouted. "I love him! He loves me!"

"I will kill that Anthony Parker of whatever his name is. I will not allow him into this house ever again, do you hear me? Do you hear me?"

"It's not Tony's." Kitty cried.

"What?" All eyes turned to the girl.

"The baby, it's not Tony's." Kitty repeated as her tears ran down her cheeks. "We broke up because I was in love with someone else."

"Ha!" her father said with a sarcastic laugh. "So you're in love with someone else! Pray tell me, who is the damned father of your child?"

"Phil Saunderson." Kitty couldn't raise her eyes from the floor.

The whole Bennet family looked at her in stupor. The quiet, timid, pimpled Phil Saunderson impregnated Kitty.

"He is my stable hand." Thomas said, incredulous. "I hired him to take care of the horses and he shagged my daughter instead. I kill the little bastard, I swear I'll ..."

"Don't call him that!" Kitty yelled. "He is wonderful and he works very hard for this farm and he loves me and we want to get married!"

"Married!?! He's seventeen for Heaven's sake! Do you want to marry a seventeen year old boy? He didn't even finish school!" Thomas ran his hand through his hair and tried to calm down. The situation could not be reversed and he would have to deal with it. "All right Kitty, go to your room. I'll talk to this ... boyfriend of yours tomorrow and see what we shall do."

Kitty ran to embrace her mother and they both climbed the stairs together, sniffing and talking in hushed tones about how they would work this out.

Mary went to her room and her father grabbed the keys and left the house. Without Jane to discuss the news, Elizabeth remained alone in the living room, thinking that her life could not get any worse.

Peculiar? No, Darcy didn't have the slightest idea of what he was saying when he called them that. These people were absolutely crazy.

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