While You Were Sleeping

Yin Marie

Chapter 1

Posted on Friday, 28 December 2001, at 6:13 a.m.

Elizabeth Bennet slowly folded the letter back to its original position and tucked it into the envelope. One letter had led her through such a web of feelings. From hate, to contempt, to sorrow, and now, unbelievably, to regret.

"Good God, how could I have treated him so..." she whispered to herself. Taking the letter back out, Elizabeth re-read it, focusing now mainly on the section Mr. Darcy had devoted to justifying his behavior towards Wickham, hoping to gain a greater understanding for the two men. Elizabeth wanted to disregard the letter entirely and fall comfortably back into hating the handsome gentleman from Derbyshire. But as the fact that fate had never favored her with a comfortable life, she was again troubled.

"I have truly misjudged his character...and not without consequences," said Elizabeth, to no one in particular but herself, beginning to regret her treatment of Mr. Darcy concerning the issue of George Wickham. A brush of wind awakened her from her reflective state. "Dear, how long have I been out?" she thought. As Mother Nature would have it, the smallest raindrops began to descend upon Elizabeth's hair and shoulders.

"I must return to the parsonage," she thought, wiping her cheeks free of stray tears that had somehow escaped from her eyes, "Charlotte will be worried." The raindrops did not vanish nor lessen as Elizabeth had hoped, but rather grew in size and strength. It was not more than ten minutes before Elizabeth found herself almost completely soaked. "Wonderful...to see the look on Mr. Collins' face if he saw me now." Hunsford was still quite a distance away.

To her great surprise, and horror, Elizabeth could just begin to make out the outline of a man walking towards her before she felt her foot hit something hard and slip. After that, the last memory she had was pain, followed by blessed darkness.

"Darcy, is that you?"

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was greatly annoyed with his cousin. First, Darcy skips breakfast, causing a myriad of questions from his nosy aunt Lady Catherine, and then mysteriously disappears for the afternoon. Using Darcy's disappearance as an excuse to scurry away from Lady Catherine and sickly Anne, Richard went off to search for his lost cousin, riding towards the general direction of Hunsford where a young servant had said Darcy went. The colonel, believing the weather to be nice, had then deposited his horse with a groundskeeper to have it returned to Rosings, preferring a walk in the sun to the uncomfortable gallop of his horse. This was obviously a rather large mistake on his part. To say that the rain completed his bad morning would be an understatement...his morning had been utterly abysmal.

"Darce, answer me I say!" It was less than two seconds later that the billowing of skirts made it clear to Colonel Fitzwilliam that it was not his cousin that was walking his way. Who could it be? Thoughts of the woman's identity were quickly banished as a strangled cry made the colonel's head snap up. Whoever it was had just been reduced to a heap on the wet grass.

Richard quickly hurried to the person and was indeed surprised to see the, now mud-stained, face of Miss Eliza Bennet, the young lady from Hertfordshire that he had conversed with briefly a day back. Quickly removing his coat, Richard covered her wet body before scooping her up into his arms and running to the Hunsford.

Throughout the blunder of the event, Richard, a man that was in no way blind towards beauty, was brought to very close attention the intricate beauty of Miss Bennet's face and the softness of her body, which was revealed quite eagerly by the clingy nature of wet material, the coat that had once preserved her modesty now hung uselessly over Richard's arms due to his haste. "What an awful time to think of this!" he muttered to himself. Thoughts along this road were thus banished as he neared Hunsford and yelled for its master and mistress.

"Mr. Collins! Mrs. Collins! Quickly, I need assistance!"

Charlotte, having just left her post at the window to check up on some tea, rushed to the doorway, unaware of the reason for the commotion. Upon reaching the doorway, she recognized, through the small number of servants that had gathered, Colonel Fitzwilliam carrying in his arms and unconscious... "Lizzy!"

Richard looked up as he heard Mrs. Collin's shout and quickly asked for instructions on where to set the lady. Elizabeth was quickly laid on the nearest couch and the doctor sent for. The colonel was then utilized again to move Elizabeth, who had remained in her unconscious state, to her room. Richard stood idly after being ushered out of the guest quarters as Charlotte and other ladies helped remove Elizabeth's wet clothing. Ten minutes later, Charlotte herself quietly exited and shut the door to the room behind her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam arose from his seat and inquired after Elizabeth's health.

Charlotte shook her head. "She is quite well, with all considered. We believe her to have possibly struck her head on a root and most likely twisted her ankle, due to the obvious amount of swelling on her foot." Charlotte paused and looked up at the colonel. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, please allow me to thank you on behalf of Elizabeth, Mr. Collins, and myself for finding her this afternoon. My husband is at the church, undoubtedly detained by the rain. I do not understand what drove Lizzy to go wandering for so long, but I am very grateful..."

Richard interrupted, "Mrs. Collins, please, do not trouble yourself with thanks. I only wish for the speedy recovery of your friend."

"Thank you, sir. I am sure...My Goodness!" Charlotte gasped.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked around. "What is it? What has distressed you?"

"You!" she exclaimed, then caught herself, blushing profusely. "I mean...you...you're...I can' t believe I never noticed before...I can't believe you've never noticed...or maybe I was just ignorant of..." Charlotte caught herself in the midst of her babble and looked up at the colonel with wide eyes. "You're all wet!"

It was then that Richard looked down at himself and sheepishly nodded to confirm her statement. "Yes madam, I seemed to have also fallen victim to the rain as well." He smiled at her. Somewhere deep inside, Charlotte felt a flutter, but quickly pushed the thought down as she called a servant to retrieve some of Mr. Collins clothing.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, revolted at the idea of having to touch, not to mention wear, anything of Mr. Collins' quickly dismissed the idea. "My clothes are already beginning to dry," he argued, the 'drip, drip' noise made by the water from his breeches dripping on the floor belying his comment. Not wanting to insult this woman before him, he quickly added, "Mr. Collins and I aren't the same...uh...size."

"Oh..." Charlotte thought for a moment. She turned to a young male servant who had been wiping at the wet floor with a mop. "Thomas, could you possibly lend the colonel some of your clothing for a fortnight?"

The young redheaded man looked up with a nod and scurried off to fetch some clothing. He returned not five minutes later with a clean white work shirt and some plain breeches. "I have only one pair of boots sir, so..."

"Please do not trouble yourself," Ricahrd interjected, just thankful to be able to change into clean and dry, not to mention greaseless, clothing. He returned just as Dr. Johnston arrived to tend to Elizabeth.

"Mrs. Collins, thank you for your hospitality. May I call tomorrow to inquire after Miss Bennet?" he asked.

Charlotte nodded while escorting the doctor inside. "Of course, now if you'll excuse me."

Richard bowed and allowed Mrs. Collins to follow the doctor into Elizabeth's room. Looking outside, he saw that the rain had finally relented. Giving his hair one last, but futile, stroke, Ricahrd exited Hunsford en route to Rosings. Mr. Collins met him just as he was exiting the house.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam sir!" Mr. Collins was indeed shocked to see the nephew of her prestigious Lady Catherine in a field worker's attire.

"Excuse me, Mr. Collins, I am on my way to Rosings," said the colonel, wanting to keep his conversation with the boorish man as brief and concise as possible.

Mr. Collins nodded, "Yes, indeed, do not let me keep you from her humble Lady Catherine. But please allow me to lend you a horse, for 'tis a good long walk from here to Rosings."

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Collins. I greatly appreciate it," replied Richard. At least something went my way, he thought to himself.

"Darcy!"

The pounding in his ears had not ceased and was definitely not helped by Lady Catherine's incessant calls for his attention. Darcy forced his eyes open to gaze warily at his aunt. "Yes?"

Taking a sip of her tea Catherine DeBourgh looked at her nephew. "Are you not well?"

"Do not worry yourself aunt, I am quite well," Darcy replied, whereas his head felt like the ground being raked during harvest season. "It is Richard that you should be concerned with for I believe he has yet to return from his excursion this morning."

It was at that moment that the object of their conversation, Colonel Fitzwilliam, appeared through the doorway of the sitting room.

"Cousin Darcy! I see that you do have room in your heart to think of your dear cousin," he exclaimed, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. Had it not been for Richard's concern over Miss Bennet, he would have been slightly, no, much more peeved at Darcy. Before Darcy could reply however, Lady Catherine screeched in her highest voice, causing both men to wince as the little man with a mallet in their respective heads decided to redouble his force in pounding. "What on earth are you wearing?! Fitzwilliam, do you not understand how incredibly improper it is to wander around in servant's garb? In the rain no less!"

Knowing better than to try to interrupt his aunt during a tirade such as this, Darcy stayed silent and watched the colonel react.

Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, "I was...ah...detained slightly in my search for Darcy and had to be diverted to Hunsford to...ah...deliver a lost...item." Richard, knowing full-well that Lady Catherine held Elizabeth at a rather low regard, tried his hardest to not mention her name, thus having to twist the truth of his detainment in order to avoid incriminating the unfortunate young lady.

Unlike his aunt, who seemed oblivious to the lie and ordered the colonel to his room in order to 'dress properly' for dinner, Darcy was not at all fooled by his cousin's cover. Richard was hiding something. He resigned himself to finding out later.

"Oh yes, Darcy," Lady Catherine continued. "Since you are extending your visit for another two days, I must inform you that Mr. Collins and his wife will be joining us for dinner again this evening. This time, thank goodness, without the company of Elizabeth Bennet. Such an insolent girl..."

Whatever his aunt might have added was completely disregarded by Darcy as Elizabeth's refusal once again entered his mind. Last man I would marry. The words ceased to hurt him less today than they had the day before when they were said to him.

Charlotte had decided to conceal from her husband the actual events that led up to Elizabeth being confined to bed. Thus, the following missive arrived at Longbourne the next evening:

Dear Uncle,

I sincerely hope that this letter finds you in good health. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your daughter Elizabeth has fallen ill just this afternoon.

Please do not worry, Mrs. Collins and I have already called upon our doctor and Cousin Elizabeth is being treated with the best care possible. Her condition is mild, although travel to Longbourne would not be wise. We are happy to have her at Hunsford for as long as she needs in order to recuperate, which should not be any longer than a week. Please sent my regards to Mrs. Bennet and my cousins.

Yours etc. William Collins

"Dear me," murmured Mr. Bennet. "It appears that Lizzy has fallen ill at Rosings."

Jane looked up from her embroidery, concerned fully for her sister. "Is it serious?"

Mr. Bennet shook his head and smiled at his eldest. "No, I do not believe so. I shall respond to Mr. Collins an inquire further about Lizzy's condition."

He removed his spectacles. "If you would like, Jane, you may write your sister a letter and I will enclose it with mine and direct them both to Mrs. Collins. Lord knows she'll need some consolation if she is to be spending another week in the same dwelling as her cousin."

Jane, someone who was not likely to think bad about anyone, only nodded her head in agreement and put down her needlework in search of stationary.

Before entering his library, Mr. Bennet stopped. "Lizzy sick...my my...what am I thinking?...poor Mr. Collins!"

Later that evening when the Collins' were scheduled to arrive at Rosings for dinner, only Mr. Collins registered his appearance, not letting the illness of anyone, much less a cousin, prevent him from the company of his patroness.

Lady Catherine looked at her clergyman in inquiry. "Pray tell me, Mr. Collins, where is your wife? I hope she is not ill."

After bowing, Mr. Collins declared, "No, my noble Lady, Charlotte is in good health. However, my cousin Elizabeth caught ill this afternoon and Charlotte was forced from the company of your grace in order to tend to her friend."

Darcy drew to attention at the mentioning of Elizabeth's name, for once in his life, paying undivided attention to the boorish clergyman. One glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam's unsurprised face told Darcy that there was something amidst that he was not informed about, something to do with Elizabeth. However, before any inquiries could be made, dinner was announced and the four transferred their conversation, or lack of, into the dining room. Anne had again fallen sick and was to be served in her chambers.

Unable to concentrate on anything but thoughts of Elizabeth, Darcy remained silent throughout the meal. What had happened? Could the 'item' that Richard had returned to Hunsford been Elizabeth? If so, how badly was she hurt? Why was she hurt? How? Could it have possibly been a result of the contents of his letter? It agonized Darcy to think that the letter he had written her could have caused her grief. She was still perfectly healthy when he had seen her earlier in the day. Of course, the atmosphere of their encounter had not at all been pleasant, but nothing could have prevented Darcy from admiring Elizabeth from all angles. She was perfect in every respect that she herself could decide. Her family and situation was placed on her shoulders through her birth and her defense of Wickham was brought on due to a lie bestowed upon her. He had done nothing to rebuttal the dishonest accusation and yet added it to his list of prejudices against her. Lord, if he had only thought of these circumstances before his proposal.

"Darcy...I say DARCY!"

Lady Catherine brought him out of his trance. "Yes aunt?"

"I say," she huffed. "You are certainly distracted tonight."

"I apologize Aunt Catherine. I have much business to attend to after I reach Pemberly," he said. Suddenly, a thought came to his mind. "I must, however, excuse myself early from dinner and return to my room so that I may ready myself for my departure."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at his cousin and knew immediately that that was not the case. It was uncanny how the two could tell when each other were lying. Richard had once joked that it was because they had told too many lies together.

As Darcy bid his farewell, he headed up the stairs to his room. "Thompson!" he called to his manservant. "I will retire early tonight. Please see to it that I am not disturbed."

The man nodded and left the sitting room. After a few moments of waiting, Darcy opened the door to an empty hallway. Quickly walking to the back stairs, he walked outside the large estate towards to stables to retrieve his horse.

With a kick, Fitzwilliam Darcy headed towards Hunsford at full gallop. He was going to see his Elizabeth, propriety and pride be damned.

Chapter 2

Posted on Saturday, 29 December 2001, at 1:53 a.m.

Where could he be off to? Colonel Fitzwilliam sat pondering this very question while Mr. Collins continued to shower Lady Catherine in praise. Surely, Richard thought, not to Hunsford! No...Darcy didn't even know about Elizabeth and even if he did, it was completely improper to visit a young lady without the proper chaperone. No, Darcy could not have gone to Hunsford, thought the colonel as he went back to his semi-conscious state of listening to Mr. Collins. He would just have to find out later.

"The young lady should be fine, I daresay, in a few days," replied Dr. Johnston while cleaning off his spectacles with a handkerchief.

"You mean," Charlotte said urgently, "that it is not serious."

The doctor smiled at the young wife. "No my dear, I expect her ankle to be a bit sore but that will be quickly overshadowed by the pain that her bruised head will cause. One concern of mine that I must bestow upon you however, is the extent of her hallucinations."

Charlotte was bewildered. "Hallucinations?"

Dr. Johnston nodded. "Yes, Miss Bennet continually cries out for a Mr. Darcy. I am rather new to this area, so I personally am not familiar with such a person, however, I highly recommend that you try your best to calm her. The study of the mind is not my field, but I do worry that she will prolong the healing process of her head injury if this persists."

With her mouth hanging slightly open, Charlotte nodded, still unable to speak. Mr. Darcy?! Had Elizabeth gone mad? Didn't she always hate the arrogant gentleman? Just then, Mandy, a young maid came in with a soggy envelope in her hand. "Mrs. Collins?"

Charlotte turned around. "Yes Mandy?"

The young girl handed her the envelope. "While washing Miss Bennet's clothing, missus, we came across this envelope. See as how we couldn't wash it, my mother said that I should give it to you."

Charlotte nodded. "Thank you." As she fingered the envelope, Charlotte couldn't help but feel slight curiosity as to the contents, or whether there even was anything inside of the envelope. Carefully opening it so not to damage its contents, Charlotte removed a small folded bundle of papers. The ink was blurry, however the signature at the bottom was as obvious as day...Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"My goodness..." her reverie was interrupted again by Mandy, this time the girls large hazel eyes wide with fear. "Missus! Hurry! Miss Elizabeth is awake!"

Charlotte rushed into the guestroom in order to greet her friend, however, Mandy had greatly misjudged Elizabeth's state. Lizzy was not awake, but rather having a disturbing dream that caused her to thrash about the bed.

"...so sorry...Dar...please forgive...misjudged...how could I..." various pillows had been thrown askew around the room during this mumbled monologue. Charlotte hastened to her friends bedside to put a hand to Lizzy's forehead. No fever. The sweat was from the exhaustion of her movement. "Lizzy...it's time to wake up...please..." Charlotte pleaded, but to no avail. The thrashing ceased, and was now replaced by discontent slumber. Taking her place in the chair placed at Lizzy's bedside, she began a slow vigil over her friend, Mr. Darcy's letter forgotten on the nightstand.

It was no more than fifteen minutes later that a slight rap at the door caused Charlotte to distract her attention. Mandy reappeared through the doorway. "Missus, there's a gentleman asking for you in the foyer."

Colonel Fitzwilliam, Charlotte thought. No, he said he wouldn't call until tomorrow. Then who could it be? Wiping her moist hands on the skirt of her dress, Charlotte walked outside the room. "Mr. Darcy!"

Darcy looked up into the tired, weary eyes of Charlotte Collins. "Mrs. Collins...I came to inquire after Miss Bennet. I would be much obliged if you would allow me to see her."

Charlotte sputtered, not knowing what to say. "I assure you that she is doing quite well under the circumstances..." a small cry from Lizzy's room that was audible to those in the foyer belied her statement.

Darcy was frantic. He had to go and see Elizabeth! "Mrs. Collin, please..."

"But, it wouldn't be...propriety...I can't..." Charlotte began, not knowing how to answer him. Part of her wanted Darcy to comfort Lizzy and the other half worried only for her friend's reputation.

Darcy stepped closer, forcing Mrs. Collins to look into his pain-filled eyes. "Mrs. Collins, I have already broken the boundary of proper behavior by arriving here unannounced, requesting to see Eliz...Miss Bennet without proper chaperone." He paused to catch his breath. When Fitzwilliam Darcy spoke again, Charlotte noticed a catch in his voice that he could not disguise. "Please..."

The emotional side of Charlotte Collins won over her practical counterpart as she slowly and silently motioned Mr. Darcy into the doorway of Elizabeth's room. The two maids that had been in there quickly exited upon the arrival of the gentleman, murmuring to themselves rumors that Charlotte reminded herself to dispel later.

Mr. Darcy noticed not the maids nor Mrs. Collins, only the young woman lying restlessly on the bed before him. Instead of taking the chair as expected, he surprised the Christianity out of Charlotte by kneeling by the bedside and taking hold of Lizzy's hand, bringing it tenderly to his lips. At his touch, Elizabeth's small movements seemed to stop.

Amazed at this development, Charlotte stood shocked at the doorway. Whether it was force of sheer will, or just a need to disobey the strict rules of society, or even because of the knowledge that what she was about to do would purposely defy Lady Catherine, she steered herself out of the room, dragging the door with her until it was closed all the way. What had she done? Gave happiness to two deserving people, a small voice told her. Shaking her head, Charlotte murmured to herself. "I only hope that my husband does not arrive soon, or else it is my sanity that they will need to restore."

Quickly motioning to Thomas, the young worker whose clothing Colonel Fitzwilliam had borrowed earlier, she spoke in low tones. "Thomas, go outside and keep a watch out for Mr. Collins. If you see him approaching, notify me immediately."

Putting her hand to his lips, Darcy relished the feel of her soft skin against his lips. "Darling Elizabeth, what have I done to you?"

As if in answer, she turned slightly in her sleep to reveal the small bandage taped to the back of her head where she had struck the root. Her foot, elevated on a pillow was also revealed, causing Darcy to further delve into self-guilt and regret. He could only look at her sleeping face, stroke her hand, and whisper pleads of forgiveness to deaf ears. "Elizabeth, please wake up...I need to tell you..."

It was the letter on the nightstand caught his attention. "Blast that damned letter! I should never have brought myself to write it..."

"But had you never written it, the truth would still be but a stranger to me," a soft, hoarse voice spoke to him.

Darcy did a double take at the fine eyes that stared back at him amidst the hair and sheets. "Elizabeth..."

Putting a finger to his lips, she shook her head. "Please, say nothing. I have heard all I needed. This is the most pleasant of my dreams yet. Because I can no longer approach you in reality, please allow me the liberty to at least alleviate my conscience in my sub-conscious."

Darcy opened his mouth to object and to tell her that she was not dreaming, that he was indeed at her bedside begging for her forgiveness, not requesting hers, but nothing came out, only a soft hoarse moan. Elizabeth stopped him.

"Please, allow me to continue."

He nodded.

"I have misjudged you in character and honor, mistakes that not only jeopardized your happiness but mine as well." At this point, tears began to well in her eyes and sleep began to once again invade her thoughts. "I think that I love you, Mr. Darcy, and wish with all my heart that I can once again see you in the real world, but I know that it is no longer possible..." her voice trailed off as she resumed her slumbered state.

There were very few times in his life when Fitzwilliam Darcy had been rendered speechless. This, however, was the first time he had been put into that state by a woman who was under the impression that he was just a figment of her imagination. He wanted to take her by her shoulders and shake her awake in order to tell her the truth. He wanted to kiss her full on the lips in order to prove his love, and at the same time alleviate some of his own desires. But all would have to wait for it was getting dark and Mr. Collins would for sure be returning soon.

Getting up and heading towards the writing desk in the room, Darcy rummaged through the drawers until he found a piece of paper and a quill with ink. "I must leave her with the knowledge that this was no dream," he murmured to himself. But as fate would have it for these two, Mr. Collins took that very moment to make his appearance over the small hill, causing Charlotte to urgently rap at the door.

Knowing time was scarce, but also knowing that he could not leave without word to his beloved, Darcy had only the time to write but three short sentences to Elizabeth. He stole one more look at her before placing this letter in the place of the old one and tucking the old one in his breast pocket. With a final murmur of love, Darcy left the room.

Closing the door to his chambers, Fitzwilliam Darcy was assured that no one had seen him re-enter the house. Looking at his half-packed trunk, Darcy knew that the rest of the night would certainly be devoted to packing. Removing his jacket, and the letter he had given to Elizabeth earlier that morning, he silently cursed himself again for his actions. "She must have thought of me as an insufferable fool out to hurt her," he muttered to himself.

"Naw, I wouldn't be so hasty in presuming that," came a voice from behind him.

Darcy swerved around in alarm. "Good heavens Richard! Do you always make a habit out of coming unannounced into another man's chambers?!" he cried out.

Colonel Fitzwilliam only smiled. "No, but when I do, I am very keen about whose room I sneak into. It would do me no good to say, visit the room of a bore like the one you left me with at dinner would it?"

His cousin only grunted.

Richard continued. "Now Darce, I daresay you owe me an explanation. You disappear in the morning and once again at night! Surely you do not sneak off to Hunsford to pay midnight visits to Mrs. Collins. Pleasant as she is, I had assumed that a parson's wife was not your type. Could you have been visiting, I daresay, a Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire?"

Darcy practically growled at the colonel. "First of all, how is it that you automatically suspect that I had gone off to Hunsford?"

"The stable boy told me the general direction," said Richard nonchalantly, ignoring Darcy's muttering about nosy servants with loose tongues. "It was either Hunsford you had escaped to or the pond, and I daresay that as sour of a mood you were in, drowning you're your sorrows would still have taken a figurative state in your mind."

Darcy stood to his full height, which was only about half an inch taller than the colonel's. "Richard, do not assume anything. I could have very well retired to my room the whole night or maybe I just need the fresh evening air." He was advancing towards his cousin with every syllable, until the good colonel was standing safely inside the sitting room. "My relationship with Miss Bennet is not of yours...or anyone else's concerns, do you understand?"

"Relationship, huh?" The colonel breezed. "I knew there must have been a man in her life, because it certainly wasn't my name she was calling for on the way to Hunsford." This bit of news was completely fictional. Elizabeth had been completely silent after her accident excluding the occasional moan. However, this didn't register through Darcy, who had spun on his heal upon hearing Richard's words. "Wha..."

The look on Darcy's face told Richard all he needed to know. "Good night cousin." He exited the door whistling a love sonata, leaving a shocked Darcy standing in the doorway between his sleeping and sitting room.

Elizabeth could hear Charlotte call out for her. It was such a nice dream, she thought to herself. Mr. Darcy had been by her side and had listened attentively while she apologized to the man.

"Lizzy, wake up...please," Charlotte pleaded quietly to her friend. A flutter of eyelashes awarded her effort. Mr. Collins had gone to bed after sending a note to Longbourne. Charlotte evaded her husband's pathetic attempts at romance by requesting to spend the evening watching over Elizabeth. Morning was now in full bloom and Mr. Collins had once again returned to the parsonage, leaving his wife in blessed solitude.

"Charlotte, where am I?"

Shocked, Charlotte put a hand to her mouth. Surely Lizzy remembered! "You are at my home, Hunsford cottage."

Remembrance came to Elizabeth in one harsh blow. "Yes, I remember. What happened? Why am I so sore all over?" The last thing Lizzy remembered was the rain.

"You fell and Colonel Fitzwilliam was kind enough escort...er...rather carry you back here."

Coloring a great deal, Elizabeth could only murmur a slight "oh."

"It is not the colonel I am worried about. It is Mr. Darcy," said Charlotte. Elizabeth's eyes opened wide, her dream returning to her in vivid color. "Why is that?"

Charlotte hesitated, "Well, last night when he arrived..."

Elizabeth shot up in bed and grabbed her friend's arm. "Did you say he was here last night?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes. He was quite worried about you, but you remained asleep through his whole visit."

Elizabeth could only lay back on her pillows and groan. Why did fate have to be so cruel? If she had only been awake, then Mr. Darcy would have been able to hear of her apologies and they might have worked things out. Why did fate have to be so cruel?

Charlotte, seeing her friends turmoil rose from the chair. "Lizzy, I know you have feelings for him. I do not know what has estranged you and I will not venture to ask. But I must inform you. The man I met last night was desperate and in love. Maybe there is still a chance! Please, do not hold back and give up. I know very well what a love, or lack of, can do to a relationship. You and Mr. Darcy have so much potential. Do not give up, Lizzy." She began to walk to the door, but then paused and turned around. "The servant girls found that letter in you dress. I did not read it nor did anyone else. It is on the nightstand."

As the door shut, Elizabeth reached for the letter, wanting to read it one more time. The envelope was now wrinkled and stained, her name blurred by the water. As she pulled the letter out, she felt a lack of papers.

"Wait a minute, there were at least two pages to the letter and yet, all I find is one."

Knowing for sure now that this was a completely different address, Lizzy unfolded the paper to reveal short sentences that brought tears to her eyes.

My Dear Elizabeth,

You need not beg forgiveness for I am the one who requires it. Please forgive me. I love you too.

FD

Chapter 3

Posted on Sunday, 30 December 2001, at 1:24 a.m.

"I love you too," murmured Elizabeth. This could only mean one thing...maybe she had told Mr. Darcy that she loved him! Oh dear, she thought, if she had told him that much, how much more of her secrets had she revealed?!

Her thoughts were thus interrupted by Charlotte who brought with her a lunch of soup and homemade bread. "Smells delicious," commented Elizabeth.

Charlotte smiled. "Mrs. Reed, our cook made it especially for you. She calls it her 'miracle worker.' All I really care about is that this somehow divinely heals Mr. Collins from any illness or ailment, thus allowing him to return to his parsonage leaving me in blessed solace."

Lizzy giggled, but quickly got serious. "Charlotte, pray tell me, what was Mr. Darcy's mood last night when he visited?"

Expecting such a question, she replied thoughtfully. "I believe he was truly concerned for you welfare. He seemed agitated, confused, maybe even remorseful." She thought for a moment. "Lizzy, remember when you told me he was proud and arrogant?"

Elizabeth nodded while taking a bite of bread.

"Either you have been mistaken or he has undergone a drastic transformation. Last night, Mr. Darcy abandoned all thoughts of propriety to see you and then he did the unbelievable..." Elizabeth's raised eyebrow encouraged her silently to continue. "He begged Lizzy, he begged me to let him see you."

There was a clatter of silver as Elizabeth dropped the spoon she had been using. He, Mr. Darcy, begging? "No, it can't be true..." she murmured.

Charlotte put her hand on Lizzy's arm. "I assure you, I would not lie. I have met Mr. Darcy only once before as Charlotte Collins. The man that appeared last night was not the man I had previously encountered, and definitely not the man we have encountered together at the Meryton assembly."

Elizabeth sat, soup forgotten, in deep thought. Had one refusal changed him so? Or maybe it is just that I see him in a different light. "And I of all people accused him of being prejudiced!" she exclaimed, causing Charlotte, who was still ignorant of 'the proposal', to look up in alarm.

Coloring slightly at her outburst, Lizzy returned to her meal. What happened two days earlier was not to be public, or even private knowledge. She would not tell anyone, except perhaps Jane, knowing that he was most likely to keep it secret as well. I at least owe him that much, she thought to herself.

The two friends discussed light-hearted topics as Elizabeth finished her meal. Just as Charlotte rose to leave with the lunch tray, Mandy came into the room. "Missus, the mail carrier just arrived with a letter." She handed the envelope to Charlotte and bounded out of the room. After rummaging through the papers, Charlotte handed one sheet to Elizabeth. "This is for you from Jane. I must take a short trip to the parsonage, but I will return within the hour. The servants are doing field work out back, so I do not believe anyone will be in the house for the next hour or so, do you think you can manage?"

Elizabeth nodded, wanting to read Jane's letter and Charlotte left.

-----

Dearest Lizzy,

How are you doing? It was such a fright hearing from father that you had taken ill. I do hope that you recover quickly so that we may once again have our face to face chats!

Longbourne is as usual. Mother had another one of her nerve attacks when Lydia accidentally speared a hole through Kitty's pink bonnet. It took a full half a day to calm her down because of the expense of the item. It was such a pretty thing too.

Everything else is wonderful here, Mary is reading her sermons once again. It's such a misfortune that the minister in Hertfordshire is so ancient. She would make such a wonderful parson's wife. Dear me, I have better end this letter before I begin to sound too much like mother.

I wish you a speedy recovery Lizzy.

Your Loving Sister, Jane

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Lizzy was in much better spirits after Jane's letter. She sat in bed reading a sermon book that she had taken from Mr. Collins' meager library. It was not ten minutes before she put the book down in exasperation. Mary was a truly amazing, anyone who could sit through a whole book of sermons and still have hair intact was amazing.

The sky was so bright outside that the interior of Lizzy's room looked rather dull in comparison. With her head healed, apart from a minor headache, the only impediment Elizabeth had was a rather bothersome cold and her sore foot. A little pressure can't hurt, she thought to herself. Pulling on a dressing robe, Elizabeth slowly sat up in bed and paced both her feet on the carpet. Standing up slowly, she tested her injured foot. It wasn't too painful at all.

Remembering Charlotte's words about no servants being in the house, Elizabeth exited her room clad only in a dressing robe and nightdress in search of another book. She had not gone ten steps when a strangled cry from a gentleman brought her to rapt attention.

Darcy had left earlier that morning en route to Pemberley. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not know what to make of the man. Lack of sleep, definitely, but not much else. Of all the people in England and the Americas, Fitzwilliam Darcy was probably one of the best at hiding his true feelings, especially if they were personally displeasing. It was with a heavy heart that Richard sent his cousin off towards his estate. Sudden remembrance of his promise to call on Miss Bennet, however lightened his spirits a bit and he headed out in the direction of Hunsford after lunch.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had been standing at the front door to the cottage for a good five minutes. Predicting that the inhabitants were probably out back, he went around the dwelling to search for people. Halfway through, he was almost plowed over by a young boy with curly red hair.

"'m sowry suh..." the young boy began.

Richard smiled; the lad couldn't have been older than three. He bent down to the boy's height. "Do you know where your mistress is?"

He pointed towards the door, not knowing that Charlotte had left for the parsonage. The colonel nodded and patted to boy back to where he came from.

I guess I'll just let myself in, he thought. Turning the doorknob slowly, he creaked open the door. Walking past the foyer towards the interior, he saw a female form walk slowly towards a door. Assuming that it was a servant girl, he walked towards the lady to address her, however, upon further inspection, Richard discovered that it was not a servant girl, it was... "MISS BENNET!"

Elizabeth spun around as fast as her foot would allow. "C-c-colonel Fitzwilliam!" Her voice was fading and she wrapped her arms around her torso to try to redeem her lost modesty. Even her forearms were coloring. Elizabeth was beginning to turn the color of Lydia's rouge when redcoats were near. "I-I thought no one was here."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had since regained his voice, but not his composure. "I am extremely sorry, Miss Bennet...you are well, are you not? I mean, if you were then you...well, I...wouldn't uh..." He looked up helplessly.

"Colonel, you're babbling. It's quite all right. I am very well and I expect to be able to depart for Longbourne the day after next. Thank you for your concern and also for your assistance...I am very grateful," she said with her eyes drawn towards the floor.

"My pleasure...ugh...I mean that it was all in the line of duty, of a gentleman of course, not a soldier, which I am, but am not now, or at least while I'm on....Miss Bennet....ah...now that I see that you are well, I must return to Aunt Curve...augh!" he looked up, horror-struck by his slip in words. "I mean, Lady Catherine on urgent business that I must attend to. It has been hectic since Darcy departed. Ah...please excuse my brief visit and give my best regards to Mr. and Mrs. Collins." With that, he hastened out the door after a clumsy bow, leaving Elizabeth, still clutching her clothing to her body, standing in the muddle of the hallway.

Dear Lord, she thought as she walked as quickly as she could towards her room. That was an unnecessary encounter! Sitting on her bed, she could not help but reflect upon the humor of the situation and was soon fighting a fit of giggles.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was almost physically slapping himself for the encounter. If Darcy found out, there would be hell to pay. He had since determined that there was indeed an underlying relationship between his cousin and Miss Bennet. They belonged to each other just as Matlock Manor belonged to his brother. Richard chuckled. Had he been the older one, who knows which man Miss Bennet would belong to at this point?

Two days passed quickly and it was determined that Elizabeth was well enough to journey to Longbourne by means of Lady Catherine's carriage. This rare act of liberality was undoubtedly bestowed in order to remove Rosings of Lizzy's presence, but Mr. Collins, blind as usual to her ways, praised his patronesses' benevolence and generosity to such an extent that one listening to him would think of her as the holy ghost himself. It all made Elizabeth and Charlotte sick to their stomachs.

"Write to me when you arrive, Lizzy. Have a safe journey," said Charlotte, sad to be losing the company of the only lucid soul in the area. Her husband offered his cousin a likewise goodbye, complete with a greasy smile at the end.

Despite being torn from Charlotte's company, Lizzy felt relieved to leave Hunsford and Rosings. Reaching her hand into the pocket of her light coat, she felt once again Mr. Darcy's admission of love towards her in the form of a letter. Having memorized the content, which was not a difficult task, Elizabeth now kept in tucked inside of her coat, next to her heart.

As the carriage slowly drifted towards Hertfordshire, Elizabeth drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 4

"Master Darcy!" exclaimed Mrs. Stevens, the main housekeeper in the Darcy townhouse in London. "We did not expect you back for another two weeks!"

"I know, Mrs. Stevens, however, I have urgent business that I need to attend to in town. I will only stay for a fortnight," he replied, handing Hanks, the butler, his coat. The aging lady quickly bustled about, shouting orders to the rest of the servants, while muttering to herself about Darcy's sporadic behavior, although, having been the late Mrs. Darcy's maid, she was used to it by now.

Mr. Darcy turned to another man. "George, please have my carriage brought around, I must make a trip into town to pick up some documents and a parcel for Georgiana."

"Yes sir," the man replied and set to work. It was less than ten minutes later when the smaller of the Darcy carriages made its way around the bend. Picking up a walking stick and his hat, Darcy set out once again.

As he rode towards town, he could not help but to let his mind drift back to his encounter with Elizabeth. Had she really meant what she said? If not, then he had made a fool of himself...again. It was worth the risk, he kept telling himself as he neared town. If Elizabeth wasn't worth the risk, then what is?

Elizabeth was awakened by a sudden screech and the action of being tossed on her side. Catching her breath, she opened the door to see what had happened. The driver quickly came to her with an explanation. "Miss, it seems that our carriage has suffered slight damage to the wheel. Even with the fastest working to repair it, I daresay that we may not be able to leave again for another day."

Great, she thought...just what I needed. "Where are we?"

"London, miss."

Hmm...she had an idea. "Would it be alright if you escorted me to the nearest post station? I would like to take the post carriage back to Longbourne."

The man immediately objected. "It's unsafe...a young lady by herself..."

She waved a hand to stop him. "No worries. I won't even be taking my trunks with me. If you would be so kind to deliver them to Longbourne as soon as the carriage is repaired, I would be very grateful."

Unable to find argument, he reluctantly replied in the affirmative. The driver ordered a coachman to escort Lizzy to the post station, which was conveniently not more than a mile away. Normally, this walk would have been a pleasant excursion for Elizabeth, however, her foot made it quite painful towards the end and she was happy to have arrived. The next coach would not leave for another three hours so she bought her ticket and waited outside in a park to pass the time, after dismissing the coachman that had accompanied her.

Leaning back into a bench, she closed her eyes to allow the sun to shine on her face, an action that was taboo for a proper lady in fear of browning her skin. Free from her mother or any other relative, Elizabeth relished in this activity and was soon dozing slightly.

On the other side of the park, Fitzwilliam Darcy did a double take. Good Lord! Could it actually be her? Traveling by herself nonetheless. Where in God's name were Lady Catherine's coachmen? Where was her carriage? Safely assuming that Elizabeth was asleep due to her lack of movement, he jogged softly to her location.

It was indeed Elizabeth, in all her loveliness nonetheless. The face that looked up at him, although asleep, was not the sickly and pale one he had seen only a few days earlier. This face was bright, radiant, and serene. A small content smile graced her lips, enough to make Darcy weak in the head. He yearned to touch her, but instead clasped his hands behind his back in fear of his sub-conscious siding with his desires. All he could do was look. Oh Elizabeth, I love you so. His mouth betrayed him as his lips whispered these soft words of endearment. Closing his eyes and breathing in, trying to capture this moment in his memory, he involuntarily gasped as he re-opened his eyes to the sight of the most beautiful brown orbs known to man. Elizabeth was awake! Sudden panic overtook him and gripped his body as he stiffened under her gaze. But as quickly as her eyes had opened, they once again closed. Some odd surge in Darcy's body drove his figure away from Elizabeth, walking slowly, never taking his eyes off of her, as if in a trance. Thank goodness this area of the park was rather empty.

Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes to welcome the warm sunshine, and was instead met with the tortured dark eyes of Mr. Darcy. She was so fascinated with them that she was unable to speak. They were so full of pain, regret, and even...longing? No, this had to be another dream. Deciding to make sure, Elizabeth closed her eyes and silently counted to ten. When they re-opened, Mr. Darcy was gone. So it was a dream, she thought. At least in her other dream, Mr. Darcy had left some type of indication that he had seen her.

Picking herself and her handbag off of the bench, Elizabeth rearranged her bonnet and headed back towards the post station. Upon arrival, the conductor informed her that there had been a slight fifteen-minute delay. He pointed a small pub across the street with benches outside for her to sit on. They were secluded from the rest of the street and the pub, allowing her privacy from others to gather her thoughts. Smiling her thanks, Elizabeth walked over and took a seat. Fifteen more minutes and she would be back on her way home to Jane!

Unbeknownst to her, there were two different pairs of eyes eyeing her warily from a distance. One pair, dark and tortured, belonged to the face of Mr. Darcy, who had abandoned his business to discreetly follow her. He was aghast after acknowledging the fact that she was riding the post carriage home, and was silently debating whether or not to offer her his carriage. It was one thing to abandon propriety in a small cottage while the lady was asleep, but to abandon it in the middle of a busy London street was most abominably unacceptable. His insides were in turmoil as to what his next actions were.

The other pair of eyes, however, cared nothing for the lady's safety, only for the parcel sitting next to her which no doubt carried items worth barter. Her dress didn't appear to be too fancy or sophisticated, not indicating great wealth, but he was desperate. Making his way slowly towards her, he sat beside her on the bench, eyeing her closely.

Not being a fool to the ways of man, Elizabeth saw the person coming and quickly tucked her ticket and remaining money into her coat along with Mr. Darcy's letter. He had just sat down for less than five seconds before she picked up her bag, preparing to leave.

"Now miss, we can either do this silently, or publicly," he said to her icily, standing closely behind her in order to hide the crude knife he pointed into the material of her coat. "Hand me your bag and whatever you placed in your coat."

She slowly handed him the purse, not damning the privacy that the benches allowed, and began to walk off. Hands on her arms tugged her back. "The items in your coat."

"I have barely any money, there is only a ticket for a carriage to Meryton inside my coat. They are of no use to you," she said. Somewhere deep inside her, she kicked her pride and stubbornness.

"That is for me to determine," he said gruffly as he turned her around to reach into her coat. "No not even attempt to scream, unless you intend for it to be your last."

The words had scarcely left his mouth before strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, to meet the dark and angry eyes of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He had been wary of the man as soon as he had settled himself down next to Elizabeth. Darcy, concerned for his beloved, had advanced further towards Elizabeth in order to monitor the newcomer's movements, all the while cursing the trees that hindered his view. His walking pace broke into a full-fledged sprint as he saw a sparkle of light that Darcy identified as a knife.

Elizabeth didn't know what to think. The shock of falling victim to a thief still hadn't left her body, but the surprise of being rescued by Mr. Darcy was sure to preoccupy her for ages to come.

Mr. Darcy tried to wrestle the papers and knife out of the thief's hands, the handbag long forgotten as it lay in a heap on the ground next to Elizabeth, still staring blindly at the struggling men. The papers fell from the man's hand and Darcy' letter fluttered at the writer's feet. He paused only for a second to glance in surprise at the letter, recognizing it immediately as his declaration of affection. These items had been taken from Elizabeth's coat, he thought. This must indicate that my letter meant something to her.

A white-hot flash of pain in his left shoulder brought him to attention as the thief took this opportunity to injure Darcy and try to run. As the thief made his way to Elizabeth, he made possibly his most ill thought out idea of the day, next to robbing Elizabeth. Thinking that Darcy was immobilized, greed once again took over the thief's mind as he bent down quickly to take Elizabeth's handbag. It was this particular moment when the vivaciousness of Elizabeth returned to her in full strength.

In a completely un-ladylike manner, Elizabeth brought the heel of her shoe up towards the man's leg, intending to kick him in the knee and bring him to the ground. However, she missed completely and her leg ended up going higher than intended, connecting with his crotch instead. To her complete surprise and gratification, this seemed to bring him even more pain.

Darcy only looked in wonder and the actions of his Elizabeth. She had brought the man down to his knees with one swift movement. Taking advantage of this, he grabbed the thief's shoulders and dragged him up against the wall of the pub, disregarding the stares of the people who had stopped and exited to watch. With his arm up against the man's neck, cutting of his air supply, Darcy whispered in a low voice that no one else could here. "If you touch this woman with any fiber of your being once again, I will see to it that the next bag you will be holding is the one carrying your own head."

One of the observers had called the constable and the thief was taken away. As the crowd dispersed, Darcy turned around and faced Elizabeth. Teary, frightened eyes greeted him in return. Sheer force of will prevented him from taking her into his arms and holding her for eternity.

His will was strong, but hers was not. The exhaustion of the past days, the conflicts, and the longing to see the man standing before her pooled together with gravity and drove her towards him. His arms opened automatically and it was not seconds before she was engulfed in an embrace, finally letting her tears fall unto his chest. Had it not been for the slight cold that she still had from the days past, the rusting smell of blood would have ensnared her senses, but her nose did not allow it.

Darcy had long-forgotten about the wound in reference to the pleasure he now felt from having Elizabeth in his arms. He clung on to her to assure him that this was no fantasy. She held onto him not wanting the dream to end. This was no dream, however, because when they finally broke apart, man and woman were still facing each other. It was then that the awkwardness set in.

"Miss Bennet-" he began at the same moment she had chosen to say "Mr. Darcy."

They faced each other awkwardly and Darcy reached a decision. "Miss Bennet, I beg of you to give me the honor of escorting you back to your home."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Mr. Darcy...I don't know how to respond...I daresay that it would be completely out of your way. I couldn't put you through that much trouble."

He shook his head and guided her to the direction of his carriage. "Ah...Mr. Bingley has recently fallen quite ill...and ah...asked that I take some documents to Herfortshire to give to his...associates," he lied. Mr. Bingley was actually quite well in London with his sisters, or as well as one could be in the company of Caroline Bingley.

"Oh...I hope it is not serious," said Elizabeth.

"No," Darcy responded quickly, not wanting to have to mislead her any further. They reached her carriage and stopped at the door. "Miss Bennet, I will ask you again. Please allow me to escort you to Hertfordshire."

Looking into his pleading brown eyes, she could not help but be drawn into the sincerity of them. Silently, she nodded and allowed him to hand her into his carriage, not missing his sigh of relief. Darcy ignored the bewildered stares of his men when Elizabeth entered and their destination was rerouted. A single glare silenced all.

Once settled, the conversation was scarce, as the events from four days past still continued to haunt the atmosphere. Elizabeth broke the silence. "Mr. Darcy, I want to thank you again for your assistance today. Had you not come when you did..."

"Think nothing of it, Miss Bennet. I owe you that much," he said, the disastrous proposal re-entering his mind.

Elizabeth looked up to meet his eyes. "Believe me when I say this Mr. Darcy. You owe me nothing. It is I that is in need of forgiveness." The looked at each other as Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat, accidentally knocking over his walking stick that was perched against the wall.

They both reached down at the same time to retrieve it and the electricity generated by their touching fingers could have lighted all of London. Darcy secretly cursed the carriage, wishing that he had taken a larger one instead of this small one meant for no more than a party of two. At least it is closed on top, he thought to himself.

Elizabeth, however, paid no attention to the size of the carriage. Instead, after tearing her gaze from Mr. Darcy's, her eyes caught a crimson stain on the cream colored seat of he coach. "Mr. Darcy! You did not tell me that you were injured!" she cried in horror.

He, himself had just suddenly been acutely aware of the stabs of pain in his shoulder. "It would appear so, Miss Bennet, but please do no worry, 'tis probably no more than a scratch."

Disregarding his earlier comment, she looked on in concern. "Mr. Darcy, please allow me to access the wound." He nodded.

Slowly and carefully in order to avoid as much contact as possible, Elizabeth drew Mr. Darcy towards her. "Please remove your coat," she whispered. The coat was removed as well as his cravat. These items were then discarded in a heap onto the floor. His white shirt blatantly revealed the large stain surrounding his left shoulder that had previously been disguised by the dark material of his coat. The extent of the region caused Elizabeth to gasp. "Dear Lord," she murmured. "Mr. Darcy, we must go see a doctor. This wound is serious."

He gritted his teeth at her slight probing. "Miss Bennet, the next doctor, I'm sure is a long ways. It will only deter and prolong our journey."

Not hearing of his pleadings, she shouted for the driver and coachman to redirect their journey to the nearest town in order to request a doctor. Elizabeth closed the door before the men could further inquire about her request, wanting to tend to Mr. Darcy.

Darcy's vest was the next to go. Elizabeth eyed him warily. "Mr. Darcy...Mr. Darcy..." He had fallen asleep. Elizabeth silently cursed the ceiling of the coach as she went against her good judgment and removed his white shirt. Although her main focus was the wound, Elizabeth did not fail to notice his broad, smooth, and well-muscled chest. Blushing scarlet and reprimanding herself for noticing, she took her handkerchief and began to lightly dab at the crusted blood along the cut line. It did not appear to be too deep and she thanked God for that.

Not knowing what else to do, seeing as she had no medical training except for the small wounds of her cousins and sisters that resulted from acts of clumsiness, Elizabeth decided to try and stop as much bleeding as possible. Taking his discarded shirt, she held it against the wound and set Mr. Darcy on his back, allowing him to rest in a more comfortable position. Bending down to pick up his discarded clothing, the second letter that Mr. Darcy had written her dropped out of his coat. She picked it up to read again. I love you too. Those words spoke volumes to her. Elizabeth continued to read the letter over and over again. At one time, she had doubted his affection, at his proposal, she had found in preposterous, but now...he had just proved it. She brushed a tear back, once again fingering the words.

This was this scene that Darcy awakened to. Words were beyond him as he watched his Elizabeth clutch his written endearments as if they were a lifeline. "I meant every word Elizabeth...did you?"

She looked up at him with teary eyes. Darcy slowly, albeit painfully, rose to a sitting position, not minding his half-dressed state. He had bared his soul to Elizabeth, what was bearing his chest?

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Darcy I did, although exactly what I said is but a figment of my dreams."

"Say it again, darling."

"I love you Mr. Darcy," she said, surprised at her own boldness, but not regretful.

Upon hearing her words, he bestowed upon her a smile that melted every sentimental feeling and thought in her body. Mindful of his shoulder, Mr. Darcy carefully drew Elizabeth into his arms once again, not unaware of the sensations that her contact with his bare skin caused.

Elizabeth reveled in his touch and embrace and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I am so sorry for misjudging you."

He silenced her. "My dear Elizabeth, had I not been so rude and open with my misguided prejudice, you would not have been so quick to believe the words of an outsider."

Pausing for a moment, Darcy decided to make the leap of faith once again, praying with every fiber of his being that the outcome would be different from the last. "Elizabeth," he murmured into her hair. "I have done nothing to deserve an affirmative answer to what I am about to ask of you once again, but too many chances have gone by for me to withhold this request."

Elizabeth held her breath, not daring to even breathe.

"Dearest Elizabeth," he whispered. "I have lived eight and twenty year on this Earth and yet, my life hadn't really begun before the day I met you. I must say that the attraction wasn't acknowledged immediately, but it hit me fast enough that by the time I did realize it, there was no turning back. I tried to deny it, telling myself that I would never fall in love in fear of losing it, bit it was undeniable. Elizabeth, you have been in my thoughts constantly. There has not been a night after our acquaintance that I have not fallen asleep with your face in my mind, nor have I awoken without you lovely smile before my closed eyes. I stand before you not as the man you met at the Meryton Assembly, but as Fitzwilliam Darcy, a man in love and desperately in need of the love of a one, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Please, Elizabeth, please give me the honor of calling you my wife."

Elizabeth slowly met his searching eyes, surprised greatly in finding unshed tears in his. Too caught up in emotion to speak or nod, the only way in which she could respond was in a way completely unknown to her. Taking her hand to the back of his neck, she drew his face towards her, never breaking eye contact until she felt her eyes close.

It was in that way that Elizabeth Bennet received her first kiss and Mr. Darcy's proposal of marriage.

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