The Love For a Father

Taz

Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Saturday, 17 November 2001, at 9:51 a.m.

Elizabeth Bennet glanced back at Longbourne and sensed her heart fall towards her butterfly-occupied stomach. She witnessed the muted candlelight flickering in her dear father's window, which seemed to quite glow in the dark night and the lady suddenly underwent the feelings of true fear. She could heed his faint coughing from her outside position and felt her eyes suddenly water as she recalled how loud the noise truly was from inside the house. For so long she had not seen her true father, for the illness not only prevented him from speaking much but also made him quite... irrational. However, at the present moment he was resting, in fact, that was all he had done for days. She sat by her father's bed as often as one could, wiping his hot brow with a cool cloth and reading every book from his library twice now. For weeks the deafening noise emanating from his room had left Elizabeth crying into her bed and wishing fervently for Jane to soon hurry back, comfort and save her. She grasped the letter from her bag once again and, quickly browsing over it, could barely make out the written text due to the lack of light. She placed it over her heart and sighed deeply into the cold winter air. The letter was the only solace and hope young Miss Bennet had experienced in the past few weeks and refused to keep it from her sight. Mr Bennet's severe illness had affected the entire household, but none more than his favourite daughter. Mrs Bennet, at present, seemed more occupied in stressing the terms of the entailment of Longbourne in a loud and snivelling tone and upholding her volatile state in her room with her equally excitable sister, Mrs Philips. Her sisters Kitty and Lydia were quite more distressed with the knowledge that they would soon be categorized homeless at their father's death, though Kitty showed more affection for their Papa than her highly strung younger sibling. Mary showed sagacity in her character as she remained by her father as near as often as Elizabeth; attempting to offer her services and praying for Mr Bennet's health - though, the latter task seemed quite utterly useless. And as for Miss Jane Bennet, she was in still touring Italy with her dear husband; a young gentleman by the name of Charles Bingley who had arrived at the nearby estate of Netherfield with his two sisters and brother-in-law.

In the morning her mother and three younger sisters would wake to find her letter, and Elizabeth hoped they would attempt to comprehend her actions and sudden departure. She thanked God for Mary's sudden mature approach and knew she would care for their father in her absence.

Elizabeth was in a desperate situation. She had not an instance to squander and was in dire need of further money. She had taken the funds she had saved for years since her childhood on this journey and securely reserved them in her boots, yet they were not nearly enough. Pulling her cloak tighter about herself, the frightened young lady trudged over the fields towards Meryton, where she thoroughly wished she would be capable of securing a carriage to take her towards the vicinity of Bath. Wickham would be awaiting her arrival and had promised to provide her with the best apothecary money could procure. She had heard much of Dr Phelps and could not thank George enough for detecting him for her father, for it seemed he was beyond hope. Every physician, local and not, whom the Bennets had employed to examine the head of their family had all but pronounced him dead; though many were close to saying it. Dr Phelps was not only a respectable and experienced man but infamous for his skill and some even have rumoured him as a prodigy, though the lady was sure it was merely his brilliant strategy and intelligence that had provided him with such an unstinting reputation. Yet, Elizabeth was still two thousand pounds short of the fee Dr Phelps required and knew not how to acquire the rest of that substantial amount of money in the time needed... All she really knew was that she had to get to Bath as soon as humanly possible, and she intended to do so; regardless of any situation that befell her.

She did not feel quite safe where she presently was, for she was a lone woman walking in the fields and woods, which were not frequently visited by a crowd, leave be a friendly kind. Whilst she began to concern herself with the tall tales her mother told her of propriety and not abiding by certain rules... she heard a noise. She lady froze; then fumbled feebly into her bag and clasped her fingers over her father's pistol. She knew not yet how to work such a contraption and had simply transported it with her in case of wolf attacks or frightening away unwanted attention (although she truly believed she was the only being it had that influence upon!). She sauntered quietly onwards into the woods to glimpse a clearing and its current dwellers. Elizabeth hid well contained by the mistiness and behind a large oak tree to observe the scene before her unnoticed. She caught sight of an upturned coach and gasped as she observed a band of highwaymen. Elizabeth, however, reacted further more once she caught sight of one of the masked men brandish a category of sword and promptly bring it downwards upon the head of a coachman. My God, they have slaughtered every man there... do not move, Elizabeth, lest they catch sight of you. She suddenly heard talking and strained her neck to hear the conversation between the men, though resided back sufficiently enough to be camouflaged within the dark woods. Elizabeth managed to distinguish a conversation between the highwayman and an inhabitant of the overturned coach while her heart skipped more than one successive beat.

"Sir, I beseech you to take it all... please do not execute anymore of my men..." The small but strong voice pleaded. The lady witnessed the masked man throw back his head to produce a hearty laugh

"I promise you that, on my person as a Highwayman!" The gruffer voice of his replied in humour. "And even if I wished to, I could not... for I fear there are no more left. The only life I have left to have the pleasure of taking is, if I am not mistaken, yours, Sir." Elizabeth knew not what had prompted her to step forward and reveal herself but she could not watch this blackguard take yet another innocent man. She was as sensible a person as there commonly was and each and every occasion in the outlying future when thinking back upon her technique and conduct, she shook her head with not only disbelief, but also some antagonism - why had she ever taken such a risk? What had provoked her to take such a quite foolish and extremely dangerous action? Yet, these views did not enter her usually quite astute mind at the present moment and would only truly emerge subsequently when all was done. With her dark hooded cloak secreting her sex and any features, Elizabeth stepped forward and lifted her gun to the head of the leader. Oh God, give me strength... how am I to impersonate a man?

"You are indeed mistaken, sir," her voice rang out deeply. Not at all bad, Lizzie. You sound quite believable... The masked man turned and growled at Elizabeth.

"So I am," He said cautiously, eying the gun in her hand with some watchfulness.

"I suggest you leave, sir," she pronounced boldly as she attempted a both steady and deep voice. "Or you shall find that yours is the only life that will be 'taken'." Following her bold caution, Elizabeth halted. Neither person moved as they silently glared at one another. The lady was still in some state of panic, for she did not regular in warding off criminals! She felt her hands shaking and perspiring through her gloves but refused to allow her foe to see her true feelings of doubt. Finally, in what seemed an eternity, he growled under his breath.

"Retreat men... NOW!" His accomplices did not necessitate to be disciplined twice and promptly got on their horses and moved out the place. Immediately before the leader left with his men, he snarled towards Elizabeth and, in pure spite, hurled the torch in his hand into the carriage. He strode vehemently into the distance as Elizabeth hurried towards the scorching coach and its lone occupant. Please, do not let me be too late! She spied a hand protruding from out the entrance of the carriage and pulled it with all the strength she could muster before the fire reached that part of the coach. As she pulled the gentleman from the rapidly burning vehicle she took notice of the cut on his brow and the ring she felt beneath her fingers. The carriage was indeed grand enough but the coat of arms his ring had imprinted onto its face immediately informed Elizabeth that this was no ordinary gentleman. She let him be and glanced upon him as soon as she knew of their safety. His eyes were shut and his face was shining with sweat and smog. She knew not what to do and began to lightly hit at his face until he stirred and attempted to open his eyes.

"Sir... I cannot thank you enough..." he muttered in thanks, still quite unaware of what was going on about him. He sounded quite lost and Lizzie feared that the gentleman would fall from consciousness once again. He lightly touched the cut upon his face and, whilst wincing, the gentleman continued. "I have never seen such bravery. Name your price, I will offer you anything...." He stopped short as he eyed the figure. Elizabeth had taken down her hood, revealing her eyes, her face and her feminine appearance. "You are not a man." he managed to croak in his utter disbelief.

"I believe you must be correct, Sir," she said, smiling amusedly. "Are you quite well?"

Chapter 2

"You are alone?" he asked incredulously as he attempted to lift himself up by the use of his arms. However, strength denied him the honour of the implementation of this motion and he fell on his back once again. Elizabeth, on seeing his disadvantage and need for assistance, attempted to aid the gentleman yet he pulled away quite coldly. The lady sensed his shift and sighed quite heatedly... has this man never heard the phrase gratitude?

"Do you disapprove, sir?" she quipped. She now remembered the probable rule that the richer the person, the greater the arrogance; her dear sister-in-law, Miss Bingley, was a perfect example for such a statement - though her even dearer brother was indeed a complete contradiction to such an opinion. Teaching herself yet again not to judge by appearance and not to be converted by first impressions, Elizabeth poised herself for a civil conversation. He brushed himself off without the lady's former willingness to help and refused to meet her terribly concealed irritated gaze. Standing above her crouching form, he continued in a wheezing and breathless expression.

"It- it just does not seem to follow propriety that a young lady should be venturing the woods quite alone and at night...."

"And would you rather have had myself follow propriety and not make an effort to save you?" Elizabeth replied cogently as she herself stood up and, she noted, with no help offered from the gentleman. This is my second appearance of him, and I still do not approve. I should not be conversing with this odious man, I should be well on my way to Meryton... He exhaled deeply for he did not wish to be in argument with a mere and probably ill-educated country girl, especially for the motive that he was not awfully superior with acting well upon confrontation. In fact, the gentleman was not fond at all of a good discrepancy, for his reserved and quiet nature forbade his conveying the appropriate conduct for such a circumstance. However, he reminded himself of the great act of courage she had portrayed and attempted civility in his address.

"I cannot thank you enough for your help, Miss..." Elizabeth paused before she answered to his expectant look. Is it sensible to give your true name, for you do not know this gentleman and have not exactly behaved like a lady...?

"Woodhouse. Emma Woodhouse," The lady finished curtly; quite satisfied with the first name she spontaneously thought up. He contemplated over the name and quite faintly smiled as he raised a brow.

"Another Emma Woodhouse?" Elizabeth froze. The one name I choose and he already knows of a person owning it!

"Is it not possible for there to be two women owning that particular name, Sir?" Elizabeth questioned in annoyance, for her perfect name had a defect... but surely there were many Miss Emma Woodhouse's in the world...?

He held up his hands as he implored her forgiveness and simultaneously used it almost as a type of shield.

"I apologise once again, Miss Woodhouse," he said quite bitterly, for she had a way of speaking that made him wish to triumph over her, but again his reasonable nature gave way to his almost long forgotten childhood fancies... though he did have a sudden urge to pull at her hair. Before considering if the next he uttered would be sensible, he spoke. "I must thank you again, though you are either terribly brave or quite foolish." Elizabeth raised a brow and he suddenly wished to retract his words as he saw the fiery blaze in her eyes; which were a lot brighter than the flames which nearly took his own life. I should not have said it... Damn it, Darcy! Why must you always utter the wrong thing when women are concerned?

"Foolish?!" Elizabeth cried out as the gentleman squeezed his eyes tightly. She usually would not have reacted in such a fashion but her passion forbade sensible conduct and this gentleman had just a way of speaking that she found intolerable! "I apologise for saving you, Sir. I see how grand an error I indeed have made. Forgive me, I must go now." Elizabeth turned her heel and marched towards her original destination whilst muttering curses at the ill-mannered young gentleman under her breath. He watched her march off in a terrible temper and recalled how savage he believed country manners to be. A good friend of his had once pronounced him as a judgemental fellow but he was convinced if Bingley had witnessed the situation, he would have to withdraw that opinion. Good old Bingley... He had missed his old friend cruelly and had scolded himself for not keeping in communications with the gentleman sooner, for only now was he venturing to visit him. It had been five long years since their last meeting and, hearing of Bingley's marriage, had to see if this young woman was worthy of him. Caroline had written to him, stressing about the woman terribly and of her low connections, her perfidious past and claiming her lack of love for her brother. And the last he remembered of Miss Caroline Bingley, she was kind and somewhat vulnerable and innocent of the world... a woman who was surely not capable of wilful deceit. There was even a time he thought rather well of the lady... but he had long forgotten of those feelings since the illness he had suffered that prevented previous communications with the siblings. You will never see either Bingley if you do not hurry man...

Looking about him he realised not only was he completely unaware of his location, but his carriage, and all his possessions, were destroyed in the blaze. The Highwaymen had taken all the money and valuables he had and his only forms of help were dead. This is a hopeless case. How am I to ever get to Bath? I do not have a map, money or assistance... He suddenly stopped. Miss Woodhouse had not walked too far from the gentleman and he realised she was indeed his only hope. However, his incredibly shy nature gave way and he knew not how to call the attention of a hot tempered and confident female.

"Erm... I say, Miss Woodhouse!" He called lightly. The lady did not turn. After several more attempts, she still appeared unaware of his address. She did not seem hard of hearing when we first conversed, though she did shout a great deal... Be strong, Darcy... The gentleman coughed softly and walked hurriedly towards 'Emma', who he was convinced was walking even faster as he called and approached her. He rolled his eyes to the night sky as he, due to her sudden acceleration, increased his speed. "Miss Woodhouse, will you please stop," he pleaded somewhat desperately and the lady did indeed halt. He did not appreciate that her reason for not halting was due to the fact that she was not aware he was conversing with her... a problem that usually does not occur when one uses her own name! She turned to face him and he suddenly found himself at a loss for words... he was not the most confident of his sex and was not sure what to now say since he gained her attention.

"Well, sir?" she asked in a coldly civil tone then exhaled loudly as his hesitation and thoughtfulness began to try her patience.

"I need your help, Miss Woodhouse." He finally managed.

"Well, Sir, it seems when I do provide help, you do not appreciate it." Why must I always be so difficult. Learn manners, Lizzie! Why are you acting so unreasonable? She noticed the awkwardness in his person as her words caught him quite off guard and wished she had bitten her tongue. The more she spoke, the further his dislike of her was pushed and he began to wonder whether or not he was desperate enough to ask for her help. The lady noted the emotions running upon his face and felt quite guilty for she discerned she was indeed the cause of them. Try again, Lizzie. Sighing, she attempted anew. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

Chapter 3

Posted on Monday, 19 November 2001, at 4:59 p.m.

Darcy tightened his jaw before he began for he was sure this was the closest to civility she would achieve... but primarily due to the fact he did not desire to antagonise Miss Woodhouse yet again for she did quite own the power to intimidate him.

"I must get to Bath, Madam," He began slowly and softly as he premeditated each word. "I, however, do not have the funds or the means to get there at present." He paused as he saw her uneasiness then quickly continued to set her mind at ease. "I will pay back every pound, Miss Woodhouse. You have my word on that."

"Why cannot you just obtain money via telegram?" she asked as she looked about her quite nervously. I do not have time for a travel companion. I must away as soon as possible.

"Could you not direct me to the nearest Express Office?" Darcy entreated in pure desperation as he glanced back upon his demolished carriage. Elizabeth shook her head as she gazed longingly down the lane she wished to be disappearing down.

"The nearest Office is about 20 miles North, since the Meryton Office closed recently and father has only ever sent Randall on horseback..." Elizabeth's voice slowly faded as she recalled her father's situation and found she could suddenly not speak. The gentleman did not notice the tears in her dark eyes as he rolled his own.

"Is it a wonder you people even communicate...?" Darcy muttered under his breath but not quietly enough for he was again stopped short by a quite recovered, fiery and irate Elizabeth Bennet (or Miss Emma Woodhouse, as the gentleman would refer to her).

"We do find it difficult, Sir, along with eating with cutlery and dressing ourselves," She derided in aggravation. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to learn to spell my name and tie my shoes." With yet another outburst, Elizabeth quite slammed passed the gentleman to his utter mortification and disbelief. Having this young woman as his only means of assistance was not filling him with confidence and he found himself disliking her further still. But he could not hazard to denounce her too strictly or loudly, for he was quite desperate... even desperate enough to plead for her support. With yet another act of boldness, he stopped Miss Woodhouse... which he found quite difficult with the use of words so physical contact was the only method. Her reaction to his grabbing her arm did not dissuade the gentleman and he continued as her eyes widened with anger and further more, astonishment.

"Miss Woodhouse, I myself would not find it a great privilege to travel with you; an opinion I am sure you mutually concur with towards myself..."

"Which is the only thing you have thus far uttered correctly, Sir," She retorted back in annoyance. Darcy narrowed both eyes but refrained himself from losing his temper, for his usually reserved character was suddenly being threatened - what was it about this girl that angered him so? Why could he not act his normal and quite sensible self?

"I will offer you anything, Madam," He said unwillingly through clenched teeth, for he truly wished to give her the opposite of her desires. Elizabeth inspected him quickly and bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a terribly hidden smile.

"You have nothing that I wish to have, Sir. Goodbye." She turned to leave when her mind suddenly halted her. She thought of her situation and her father... and most prominently in her mind, the money she lacked. Darcy had given up with her and with her last subtle insult decided to find civilisation himself... for he still had his pride to preserve and an ego to repair. Elizabeth's sudden and quite methodical sentence stopped him to inquire just at the precise moment he had decided to move forward.

"Three thousand pounds." With her short statement, the lady turned to turned to face him.

"Pardon?" The gentleman turned back as his eyes not only widened but his mouth dropped slightly open in addition.

"Three thousand pounds, no more, no less." She said firmly as her face betrayed not a hint of emotion. Darcy took a step back and Elizabeth could distinguish the look of astonishment upon his features slowly distort into anger.

"Three thousand pounds?! For merely directing me to an office?" He could not believe the nerve of the girl!

"Will you pay it, Sir?" she asked slightly vehemently. Biting his bottom lip from betraying another outburst, he thought over the matter. Darcy, she has the upper hand. You must comply... and you can pay it...

"You do not wish for more?" he asked quite impudently. What part of comply do I not understand? Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in displeasure; proud, disagreeable and arrogant. How shall I survive an hour in his sole company let alone a carriage ride...? Perhaps I should rephrase, how shall he survive?

"I do not wish for any more of your money than is necessary." Well, it is a thousand more than necessary... but he can afford it and does not need it as my family and I do. Though Elizabeth was not entirely pleased with the extra thousand she had selfishly added to the bill, the further she spoke to the gentleman the less appealing discounting it appeared.

"Necessary for what situation?" He asked in peculiar interest. Elizabeth opened her mouth to articulate on the subject of Mr Bennet however her wits halted her prior to her uttering a sound.Why should he know about father? He is type of man who would most likely find his illness amusing.

"That is none of your business, Sir," Elizabeth replied dryly. "Three thousand pounds and all the expenses we incur with the money I currently have. Do we have a deal?" Darcy exhaled quite loudly before he finally gave his answer.

"We do, Miss Woodhouse." Elizabeth cringed slightly as she realised her real name had to given.

"Bennet," She said shamefacedly. Darcy looked quite confused, which did not help to Elizabeth's already discomfited expression.

"Pardon?"

"My name is Elizabeth Bennet," she said again, not meeting the gentleman's amused eye. "That is the name that the money should be directed to and I-I should be referred to... unless you wish to continue so incorrectly."

"And Miss Woodhouse?" he smiled softly at her gauche appearance.

"A figment of my imagination." She said sheepishly. They stood quite awkwardly in not quite pure silence seeing as the coach was still crackling due to the fire. Darcy finally broke the atmosphere with his deep and reserved accent.

"What is the course of action, Miss Bennet?"

"To ask your name, sir, for you have the advantage of knowing mine... well, at length."

"Darcy." He was none too fond of his first name and Elizabeth did not question his reluctance in sharing it, though noticed its absence immediately. Rolling her eyes, the lady continued.

"Well, I now believe a walk to Meryton to hire a coach to the nearest express bureau is in order. What say you to that, Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she challenged him automatically after her unanswered question.
"Any objections?" Darcy smiled slightly at her efficient tone and barren defiance and raised a brow, which only incensed her once again.

"None, Sir," he smirked somewhat. Elizabeth muttered something inaudible under her breath and trudged on ahead into the direction of Meryton as the gentleman hurried on behind. If it was not for the fact she was in desperate need of the money, Elizabeth would happily have left him next to the burning coach... either that application or thrown him in.

Chapter 4

Elizabeth hurried on determinably on the bridge as Darcy found himself almost making an effort to keep the fast pace the lady was easily upholding - but why should he be surprised? She was from the country after all, and was probably wild enough to climb trees for sport. And with that terrible temper she owns, I again can safely pronounce that I would not be astounded if she possessed other unladylike and unmannered habits. Heaving a sigh, he quickened his pace, for his thoughts had compelled him to fall far behind - to think, he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was hurrying after an upstart female who was a better walker than he. Elizabeth turned back slightly at her travel companion and he spied her smile slightly as she turned her head to her front once again; she was obviously amused that she was so much quicker and coercing him to struggle in his walking scheme. This pert act caused the ordinarily mature and cool gentleman to almost pout and progress into a sprint to be directly beside her. Elizabeth would not have usually reacted to this move, for it was indeed petty... to be in an unpronounced race for no apparent reason? Who had ever heard of such a thing? And though she heard herself quite clearly state the gentleman to be acting in a juvenile and infantile fashion she quite unconsciously found herself quickening her pace as often as Darcy did. Suddenly, he burst into a fast paced run and Elizabeth, to her own disclosure, found herself hurrying closely behind. Accelerating until she was convinced she would rip her dress with her aching and speedy legs, Elizabeth became level with Darcy and breathlessly yelled from beside him.

"May I inquire what you doing, Sir?!"

"I could ask the same question of you, Miss Bennet," He called back, equally as tired.

"Why are you running?" She asked as they both increased their velocity and the wind slapped coolly upon both their icy red faces.

"Because you are!"

"This is ridiculous. Will you please stop?" She asked, almost wheezing as they descended towards the end of the bridge to Meryton.

"Only after you, Madam." And with that last proclamation, the gentleman dashed faster, imposing Elizabeth to gradually discontinue and lean her tired body backwards upon the stonewalls of the bridge as she attempted recuperation. Grasping both knees and lowering her flushed head, Elizabeth's heavy breaths soon gave way into the slow direction of a sly smile and she called out victoriously to the ever-moving Darcy.

"You may run, Mr Darcy, but you have not a clue where you are, and there is an upcoming fork in the road!" Her words did not make impact directly, but Darcy did indeed slow into a jog then halt. Turning back to the lady, completely out of breath and flushed, Darcy did not speak. Elizabeth soon recognised the strange look upon his face and adopted it automatically... they were both quite ashamed. Not even sure of what they were undertaking and why they initiated in such a foolish action, the two companions walked progressively towards one another accompanied by such an awkward silence neither could find enough courage to break it. Nevertheless, Darcy did ultimately manage to locate a sudden valour and raked a hand through his unruly hair as he spoke warily and in some embarrassment.

"I-I must apologise, Miss Bennet, for my quite odd behaviour..."

"It was quite strange was it not?" Elizabeth asked, still panting slightly as her forehead creased in perplexity. "I also cannot explain why I reacted thus..." Both contemplated with bowed heads as their bemused thoughts did no good to help the mystery come to light. With a small bewildered smile, Elizabeth gave a final shrug.

"I suppose it is too late to make sense of the matter, Sir. We should continue, though I am not too sure we can procure a carriage at this time of night." Darcy did not dispute, to the lady's astonishment and merely gave a solemn nod to her approach. Both walked further on until they did indeed reach a divide in the road. With a faint trace of a smile, the gentleman turned to Elizabeth and spoke softly.

"Ah, the infamous fork. Pray let me out of my misery, Miss Bennet; which way is the correct one to Meryton?" With a pleased pursing of her lips, Elizabeth raised her glittering and amused eyes to the gentleman.

"I confess I tricked you, Sir. Either road shall shepherd you to our location; they are simply different routes to the same place." With a teasing smile, Elizabeth turned away and hurried up the left pathway leaving Darcy to open his mouth in amazement and some respect as he first detected her intelligence. Shaking his head with a light chuckle, he found himself lagging behind once again and, with a heavy sigh, jogged following after her.

When Meryton finally emerged from the narrow pathway, Elizabeth found herself sighing with satisfaction and relief - the place was even now quite lively and she could perceive that the carriage office was open, although a little quiet. Though the lady was quite independent and did recognize how to care for herself, she was quite glad that Mr Darcy was by her side... though she would never actually make this opinion known to the gentleman. He stayed closely by her side as they walked passed a raucous brothel or two and though she still was not too fond of the gentleman, was thankful for his protective company. Darcy hardly spoke a word as they travelled through the town, keeping inconspicuous and staring in quite some interest at surroundings he had not ever truly experienced or witnessed. Once at the carriage office, the window was quite vacant and both waited impatiently for a worker to finally emerge from the busy indoors of the building. Finally one did and, to Elizabeth's panic, it was an acquaintance. Henry Dillinger squinted through his rounded spectacles and graced the lady with a disorientated expression.

"M-Miss Elizabeth?" he breathed in incredulous discovery as he pushed back his slipping glasses with one finger. "What do you do here?" How is this going to seem? Requesting a carriage with a man beside me whom he has never seen? And his knowing of father's condition... Both Darcy and Henry Dillinger looked upon Elizabeth in expectancy as the lady managed a weak smile.

"Erm, I-I am in need of a carriage to Bath, Mr Dillinger." Henry Dillinger nodded, though both travellers could see he was quite discomfited with seeing Elizabeth. What ought I do? Give the carriage to, Miss Lizzie? But who is this gentleman? And why does she wish to go at the dead of night...? Though many questions plagued the elder gentleman, he finally resolved to not involve himself in the situation and to impartially respond to it.

"Oh, certainly, Miss Bennet..." he nodded again as he attempted to hide his curiosity. Turning to the handsome and quite dishevelled (though strangely well-dressed) gentleman beside her, he smiled nervously. "I-I shall go see if one is available. If you would come with me and sort the money, Sir, I shall..."

"If you wish for money, Mr Dillinger, then I suggest you talk to me," Elizabeth said in some annoyance - why did men constantly disregard her when it came to serious matters like money? Darcy smiled sheepishly though felt incredibly useless as this Dillinger fellow raised a brow. At that moment, Darcy truly believed Elizabeth to be far too liberated for her own good and fervently wished her to know her place in society... he was the man; surely it should be he who dealt with matters like money and purchases...? With a scowl, he leaned upon the wall and within a few moments, Elizabeth appeared and calmly informed him of the price of the carriage, so he would be so kind as to add it to the bill of three thousand pounds. In just a few short minutes they had both coldly responded to one another again. Before he could reply bitterly, Darcy was stopped short by his observing their driver and carriage. The carriage was perfectly acceptable, even by his strict measures, but it was the driver who severely unnerved him. The elderly gentleman hobbled about the pavement and with the help of his two patrons, managed to get securely onto the front of coach. Both Darcy and Elizabeth cautiously entered the vehicle as Darcy sighed deeply in anxiety.

"I believe you would be a safer driver, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth suppressed a smile as she leaned back upon the seat.

"But I have never driven a carriage in my life, Sir." Darcy warily looked out the window of the closed carriage and caught sight of the driver staring in fascination at the horse cane he held in his frail hand.

"I am honestly not sure he has either." Elizabeth's laugh softly melted his look of consternation for but a second until she joined his apprehensive emotion as the coach creaked into unsteady motion.

Chapter 5

In spite of their eccentric temper shifts towards the other and not being too sure if they approved of their companion, did not mind them or loathed them, the fellow travellers had not yet throttled the other as they had already spent a good twenty minutes in their sole company. To tell the truth, the two had currently ceased their heated discussions since they had united in their mutual concern for their safety within a carriage with quite the most inept driver imaginable. The coach shook exceedingly violently and both had nearly fallen from their uncomfortable bench a number of times, though Darcy was the closer for he collapsed straight from his seated position and hit his head upon the seat opposite himself and beside Elizabeth. Darcy, being quite convinced that manoeuvring up an awfully rocky footpath was not indeed the accurate method to go, peered his head out the window with a look of disquiet upon his features... though the gentleman remained quite quiet about his anxieties. On hitting her head quite forcefully on the side of the coach for the seventh time, Elizabeth had resolved she had had quite enough. Turning to an equally as apprehensive Darcy, she puffed out in exasperation.

"Mr Darcy, you cannot earnestly believe this madman is taking us the correct way."

"Perhaps he is taking a short-cut...?" Darcy hazarded optimistically, though he himself believed the idea to be somewhat unbelievable. Letting out a sigh, Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the shaking window to see the dark rolling hills of Hertfordshire quiver with her. She wished she were with her father. He would have at least made a tease at the driver or amused Elizabeth enough to distract her from the situation. Darcy merely sat there looking unsettled and being quite irksomely quiet. Why does he not speak? Why does he not think light of the situation, shrug and laugh at it? Why must he always be so serious? However, the lady did remind herself that he had acted peculiarly amusingly, as had she, when he had raced her at the bridge to Meryton. He had let his guard down... an action he had not yet executed afterwards. She even now could not comprehend why precisely all that had happened did and found herself blushing feverishly at every instant she thought of it. She looked upon the gentleman again and found herself unconsciously analysing his entire character and self, as she usually did with all she was newly acquainted with. Being the inquisitive creature she was, Elizabeth considered back upon all their past discussions and speculated enthusiastically about the gentleman. He was quiet, reserved and unmistakeably proud... assets that she concluded were created from his wealthy upbringing. Thus far, she believed he disapproved of her for her quick-mind (a trait a lowly woman truly should not possess), her quite personal teasing (which a man with his ego would unquestionably be affected by) and most understandably, her temper. Elizabeth could not recently vouch for it and pondered over why it had reacted so and become so strong ever since his acquaintance. She was not too sure of why it was but she knew there was something about the gentleman that infuriated her; though at present they had both kept to themselves, causing little discussion and, thankfully, no arguments.

As for Darcy, he was also busy in thought over his dislike for Miss Bennet and was simultaneously analysing his travelling partner, as was the very lady in question. The gentleman gazed over her person as she glanced heatedly out the window and was forced to reluctantly disclose to himself that she was growing increasingly more handsome the further he examined her. She had a light and pleasing figure, despite the fact that it may have not been the most refined he had seen and though her features were not exceptionally beautiful, her face was the type that improved with further study into, not only her appearance, but her character in addition. Darcy had scarce had time to study Elizabeth in the past, for he was often too busy in battle with the lady but now he had the opportunity to, he took it in his stride. He could not deny she was impatient, that the lady owned a fairly quick temper and that she was quite beneath him in both temperament and manners. However, he did have to give her due credit for her trick on the bridge and she seemed almost pleasant for those few moments that they were not at each other's throats. She was also a great deal more intelligent than he had first predicted and decided that underestimating her would only lead to his own demise. However, Darcy supposed the majority of positive thoughts that were directed towards her were only now surfaced for the couple had not spoken for a while; the gentleman was convinced that if he had allowed himself in conversation with the lady, they would soon argue one again and he would have to retract and erase his now relatively fair opinion of her.

Elizabeth continued to pout and discovered even further agitation as she noticed Mr Darcy staring at her once again. Turning his head quickly, the gentleman made a speedy escape from her angered eyes - she seemed to be in another mood... yet again. Perhaps he was actually wrong about the few good qualities he had discovered in his investigations. It was not significant how often and with how much depth Darcy indulged into his studies... he just could not begin to comprehend the other sex. Not only that, but Elizabeth was by far the most high-strung and enigmatic female he'd encountered upon.

The lady watched the peculiar goings-on riddled clearly upon Darcy' face but did not begin to try and decipher their hidden meaning and source and averted her eyes with a sigh. Turning to the window, again Elizabeth's head suddenly collided with the hard wooden edge of the coach window, however this collision was unmistakeably louder and more considerably powerfully struck than any previous encounter with the hard surface. Tracing over the newest bump on the side of her head gingerly with the tips of her fingers, Elizabeth suddenly felt fatigued and incredibly prone to slumber. Inspecting upon her hand, she barely distinguished a blurred and vibrant red liquid smeared across three of her fingertips as her eyes began to slowly fail. The carriage continued to shake uncontrollably as the lady felt her consciousness slip and her world cloak with darkness. Darcy's concerned voice and face were the last memories in her mind before her eyes closed and she slumped back into her seat.

"Miss Bennet? Miss Bennet?!" he called in desperation and some fear as the gentleman shook her limp body by her shoulders. However, his efforts were all in vain for the only movements the young Miss Elizabeth Bennet made were due to the trembling carriage; she was out cold.

Chapter 6

Posted on Thursday, 22 November 2001, at 4:36 a.m.

Once Elizabeth at length awoke, it was in a completely disorientated state; she knew not where she was or what had happened and could hardly recall a thing but her last moments in a crazed carriage. All she could currently truly distinguish was that she was within a tiny room and possessed a terribly aching head. Hearing a distinct movement stirring inside the room and concluding that she was not alone, Elizabeth's gaze searched it out and came immediately face to face with a young servant girl. Instead of being as shocked as the lady, the girl smiled warmly and also sighed a small breath of relief.

"Oh, thank Lord you are awake, Madam! We all began to fear you would not rouse, but naturally your husband more than any." Elizabeth's numb hand managed to spring to her injured and bandaged temple as a look of pure confusion followed. The lady may have been slightly hazy in certain aspects of the surrounding events in the past few days but had not impacted so forcefully upon the window to forget being wedded!

"My...my husband?" she asked in a distant voice as she attempted, to the best of her ability, to recall meeting anyone she esteemed that agreeably... surely she would not forget such a person no matter what circumstance? The young girl looked quite bemused, but presumed the lady's amnesia to be temporary and quite natural for one with a head injury. She turned to the armchair to guide Elizabeth's gaze to the occupant in question, whom was sleeping quite uncomfortably in it. Darcy looked more unkempt than ever; his unruly curls were wilder than even the gentleman had ever witnessed, he seemed to have two days of stubble adorned upon his face and he looked exhausted due to the red and swollen rings directly under his presently closed eyes. The top two buttons of his smog ridden shirt and cravat were undone, as was his satin waistcoat and though they were not the best of friends, Elizabeth did lament that she had caused the gentleman such grief. As Darcy's cheek was resting upon his palm and his elbow balanced on his armrest, his eyes fluttered slightly with the noise the two females were generating and he stirred until he was quite awake. The gentleman blinked a number of times until he realised Elizabeth was indeed conscious and as soon as focus came, he spoke in relief.

"You are awake...!?" Darcy shot from his seat and stumbled somewhat as he attempted to stand, for he had not performed the motion in a number of hours. Elizabeth lifted her arm as an offering and Darcy suspiciously took her small hand and planted a quick and formal kiss upon it, though never removing his bewildered gaze from the lady. He did not understand why she was suddenly acting so, well... decorous but identified from that familiar twinkle in her eyes that she was up to no good. Even confused and in pain, she still had a sense of humour! How did she do it?

"My Love," she smiled sweetly as Darcy pulled away and sat upon the bed. He finally understood. Ah, she has already heard of my telling the inn staff that we are married... but else was I to do? To walk in with an injured girl in the middle of the night and pronounce her as an 'acquaintance'? What would they have thought of me? Elizabeth continued her subtle teasing as Darcy could not help but blush at her discovering that he had told falsehoods. "I heard of your concern and wish to set your mind at rest; I am quite bruised and lightly cut but shall get past it, I dare say."

"I-I am glad to hear it," he said, as his stuttering attempt at deceit was not too convincing though it was as best as he could effort. Nevertheless, the gentleman still could not help but smile as he almost sportingly added, "Mrs Darcy."

"Should I inform Dr Jameson that Mrs Darcy is awake?" The serving girl softly asked Darcy and the gentleman nodded enthusiastically. This question merely caused Elizabeth to feel even more remorse for her slandering him... he even called in a doctor! The girl curtseyed and then hurried out, almost excited with performing the task as she left the two occupants alone in the tiny room. Elizabeth touched her head tentatively once again, which tempted the gentleman to properly inquire after her health.

"How are you truly feeling, Miss Bennet?" He asked in genuine concern.

"As though I have been trampled by a flock of fanatical sheep," She said sighing, and then causing both parties to laugh at her strange imagery and her somewhat odd comparison! "Though I am sure I will survive."

"I am more then glad to hear it," Darcy said smiling. "You know not how I felt when you did not wake." Elizabeth looked upon the gentleman's ragged appearance, realising she had probably kept him up many nights with the deterioration of her physical condition.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, in total ignorance of the recent occurrences and the length of her unconsciousness as she sat up slightly. Darcy stood from the bed as he allowed the lady to stir freely without his weight upon it.

"Long enough! Two days." Two days! No, it cannot be true!

"Please do not joke with me, Sir," Elizabeth said quite seriously... she did not have time to sleep when her father was so ill. "You must be mistaken about the length of time..." Darcy looked quite taken aback by her sudden gravity and nodded quite slowly after a while.

"It has been two days, Miss Bennet. Long enough for myself to call a doctor to tend and examine you and to send my cousin a telegram. He should be sending your money very soon." Elizabeth felt suddenly repentant as she thought of the expense fee... did he truly deserve to be charged such a substantial amount of money? Two thousand of it she knew was necessary for her father... but the extra thousand pounds of the payment? He had seemed so authentically concerned for her and at the time she had pronounced her price the lady had principally asked for it since his incessantness to antagonise her, which he had not done recently. However, Elizabeth had to remind herself that for the chief amount of time in his acquaintance, she was quite unconscious.

"What is the next plan of action, Mr Darcy?"

"I thought you would know, Miss Bennet." She smiled weakly.

"I am an invalid, Sir and am sure this head injury has lessened my reliability as a candidate for navigator - pray, enlighten me with our course."

"Well, this is the address I have given my cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, to direct the money to... so I suggest that we stay here until it arrives. I also believe you should continue to rest, Madam." Elizabeth shook her head adamantly as Darcy's words impacted.

"I believe I have rested a bit too much. In fact, I am quite angry at you, Sir for not waking me sooner." Darcy's surprise could not be hidden since his jaw had dropped slightly. Nevertheless, he soon recovered (perhaps he was now quite accustomed to Miss Bennet's temper) and continued his objection.

"But Miss -"

"No Sir, I am fine. I assure you." Elizabeth pulled away her covers and swung her legs to the side of the bed so her feet were resting upon the ground. Darcy continued to look incredibly discomforted as Elizabeth attempted to stand and he hurried to her side. Giving him a cold glance Elizabeth carried on even determinably. Does he believe me a weak female? I can stand on my own feet without his assistance...

"I must protest, Miss Bennet. I truly believe this is not sensible..." Elizabeth did not take note of his words and with some difficulty, lifted herself up. However, to her own chagrin, once she was upright, her mind suddenly spun uncontrollably and if it were not for the gentleman by her side catching her, she would have injured herself yet again.

"Miss Bennet?!" he called in distress as he held her in his arms; she could not keep doing this to him...! Hazily noting the look of despair upon his features Elizabeth smiled weakly yet again.

"I am fine, Sir. Perhaps you are right... I should rest for a session." The serving girl, whom had an urgent message, was suddenly at the door and noticed the scene; she opened her mouth to speak but halted. Sighing slightly she clutched the telegram in her hand tighter... she wished she was in such love one day and did not appreciate the two were caught in an unlikely position. Breaking out of her romantic reverie the young girl shyly rapped at the door.

"You have a telegram from a Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy."

Chapter 7

Once leading Elizabeth back to the safety of the bed, Darcy hastily opened the letter. Scanning the contents with some urgency yet accuracy, he halted. He could not believe it... he just could not. In fact, the gentleman was such disbelief that he had to revise the communication twice, then yet again. Elizabeth had noted his astonished expression and before she could inquire to his pale and ghostly complexion the gentleman stuttered a clumsy statement.

"Erm, I shall return..." With nothing more, Darcy exited the room, leaving an opened mouthed Elizabeth staring in more concern than suspicion after him. Once in the hallway, the gentleman began shaking his head in utter shock and quite some antagonism. Darcy grasped the letter tighter about the edges as he read the message all over again... for it still had not quite sunken in.

Dear Cousin,

Miss Bennet sounds delightful! If truth be told, I am so very certain of this fact that I categorically refuse to part with any money till she teaches you a good thing or two. I have known you longer than most and know you to have few female friends for we both know how they often react on hearing of the exact amount of your annual income! And now, I finally believe it is time to up the number of ladies in your acquaintance.

Your telegram was quite interesting indeed, Darcy and knowing that I am a creature of instinctive speculating and pronouncing conclusions, you will not be completely astonished that I wish to share a theory and part advice with you. Your constant mentioning Miss Bennet's name when it is NOT necessary leads me to conclude that you are dreadfully distracted and partial to the lady. As you yourself wrote, she is 'headstrong', 'fiery tempered', 'incredibly teasing' and 'seems amused by all you do' - pray, she sounds the type you would be affected by! Is she honestly sporting with the grand and solemn Fitzwilliam Darcy (or have you refused to part your first name with her, as you do with everyone)? I send her all my luck and best wishes; she is a brave soul.

I leave you with one last and final question, Sir and you may ponder it as often as you wish; How fine are her eyes?

Your's, &c.

P.S. I can never understand why you loathe your Christian name so much, cousin. I myself find it to be quite a handsome name indeed.

Once the gentleman had calmed himself enough to not wish to throw spears at the good colonel, Darcy finally rolled his eyes and angrily stuffed the letter into his inside jacket pocket. Trust Fitzwilliam to think of Miss Bennet as a romantic attachment and curse him for being so childish and teasing that he refuses to send my own money! And what was all this nonsense about his mentioning Elizabeth at every unnecessary moment? Fitzwilliam had spoken as though Darcy were... well, quite fanatically infatuated. Shaking his head in ardent denial, the gentleman leaned back upon a wooden beam, both sighing deeply and grumbling abuse at his cousin under his breath. Why would Fitzwilliam think such a thing? All he had ever really conveyed was his annoyance of her character; for it was true she affected him. Well, he was quite increasingly finding himself enjoying her excitable and teasing nature and did quite take pleasure in their debates and heated discussions. And as for her eyes... could he distinguish anything as extraordinary in them as Fitzwilliam had tormented? They did sparkle with wit when she spoke with amusement and their dark intelligence did render her quite uncommonly fine but... Good God, man! You would not even be thinking this if it were not for Fitzwilliam and his harebrained theories! You have never thought of Miss Bennet in that way prior to the present. Now that he has planted this seed into my mind it will continue to irritate and provoke me....

"Mr Darcy?" The lady's sudden interruption practically caused the unknowing gentleman to jump out of his very skin. "Are you quite well?" Darcy turned to see her troubled self standing in the doorway of the sunlit room... why was she suddenly illuminating?

"M-Miss Bennet, you really should be in bed..." Darcy began as he tore his eyes away from her own suddenly distracting ones... He reminded himself more than once that she was still so cuttingly teasing and her connections were so low; he truly did not feel a thing for her. Damn you, Fitzwilliam, for putting me in such confusion!
Elizabeth sighed heavily, though Darcy was relieved to see she was not angry with him as her smile appeared.

"I feel as though I am made of porcelain." Darcy twisted his mouth into a serious grin as he quite gravely and philosophically said,

"Porcelain may be fragile but does not hurt when it breaks, Miss Bennet." Both broke into suppressed smiles as his solemn voice was quite too sombre to take seriously. This initiated the relatively composed and 'unamused' Darcy to surprisingly laugh with the lady - an action he had not ever accomplished so frequently and with such true feeling.

"Aye, I do indeed ache, Sir!" she laughed softly as she grasped gingerly again at her head and leaned upon the doorframe. She was again beginning to feel quite weak and though she did not wish to squander a single second, the lady knew there was no way she could persevere on the road in her present condition. She continued to look upon Mr Darcy's still agitated state and spoke warily as she subtly inquired. "But I did have to confirm that you were quite alright... the letter seemed to unnerve you..."

"I am fine," he cut in quicker and faster than he had truly wished to, causing the lady to believe the opposite of his words. Darcy sensed his atrocious imperfection in lying and knew he could not leave the matter thus. "My cousin seems to er... be having some trouble with posting the money."

"Oh," the lady said softly. What else could she say? Demand it to be in her hand at that precise moment? Darcy, on observing her weak state and knowing that the look of pale melancholy upon her face had been inflicted by his self, felt an absolute monster for not having the exact fee at present. Say something... guarantee her... With as convincing an accent as he could muster, Darcy spoke.

"I assure you that I shall be in possession of the whole three thousand pounds and the extra expenses before we reach Bath. I promise you that much, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth, however, did unconsciously hold a great amount of trust in the gentleman and truly believed his word entirely; a detail which would have eased Darcy's anxieties if he was in knowledge of it. Soon stressing that it was not sensible for Elizabeth to keep standing, Darcy escorted the lady back to her bed once again and called up for the breakfast. As Elizabeth ate, Darcy stood by the window and began to fully examine where he had resided for the last two days. He looked upon the people and was quite astounded as he watched the country trade... so much friendlier and quieter than in town. Though he previously believed that life in the country would be somewhat confined and unvarying for his 'wealthy town upbringing' and taste, during Elizabeth's long resting period he had ventured into town on his own and found it greatly exceeded his expectations. The close knit communities of people, the welcome and most importantly the help they had given him lead the gentleman to finally conclude that country folk were not that bad. Looking back at Elizabeth he let out a small smile, which she quite happily returned as she looked up from her toast. No... not bad at all.

Chapter 8

Elizabeth had not eaten in two full days. This being the situation, it was not surprising that the lady had finished her breakfast cleanly from her plate in a manner of minutes and had called for yet another helping. As Darcy eagerly made his way down to inform the servants of the even hungrier and extremely ravenous Miss Bennet's consumption requirements, Elizabeth sighed as she lay back upon her pillow. She truly wished to leave as soon as humanely possible and though she did sincerely believe Mr Darcy would acquire the money for her, she would feel a little less anxious if she had it at the present moment. And whilst on the subject of Mr Darcy... what a difference a day makes...! How strange Mr Darcy was when he was acting caring! Or maybe he was always this way. It would be a grand deal easier to travel with someone 24 hours a day if they were substantially better than one first estimated. Perhaps it would make the journey more enjoyable than the punishment of their first meeting. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had a feeling that this new Darcy would soon return to his old ways, though the improvement was greatly appreciated. Well, enjoy it while is lasts, Lizzie. When Darcy did return, he was himself holding the tray and presented it quite formally to the lady, whom smiled as she was certain he had probably never performed such a task in his entire wealthy life. Taking the breakfast with a sly smile, Elizabeth again intrigued Darcy... what had he now done to formulate her tease him so? He decided not to seat back down in that infernal armchair, and because there was nowhere else to sit (he had fervently looked) the gentleman was obliged to stand and stare upon the lady as she did him.

"What humours you so, Miss Bennet?" He finally asked as she almost seductively chewed upon her third slice of toasted bread.

"Do you have a first name, Mr Darcy?" the lady inquired with a smile. "Or should I dare to assume that it is Mr?" Darcy fashioned an amused expression as he became conscious they were both still complete strangers to one another.

"Well, Miss Elizabeth. What do you believe it to be?" He asked, somewhat playfully, for he believed it was time to retaliate to Elizabeth's games with his own. The lady squinted her eyes and looked upon him with some closeness and concentration before she finally answered.

"Bartholomew," She said with a nod.

"Bartholomew?" he asked with 'almost' a small bemused smile upon his lips. "Do I resemble a Bartholomew?"

"Very much, Sir," she concealed her smile from the gentleman as she turned her head to examine the sunlit window that illuminated the room.

"Fitzwilliam."

"Pardon?" She turned back for she heard the gentleman produce some type of grumble. With a sigh, Darcy grudgingly repeated his now more expanded sentence.

"My name is Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth paused, then smiled softly.

"I am not surprised." Darcy could perceive from the twinkle in her eyes and the hint of pertness in her tone that there was more to her statement than she was willing to contribute.

"You are not?"

"That name was second on my list. You greatly resemble a Fitzwilliam in both appearance and manners." Ah, another jibe at your expense, Darcy. Hmmm... take it like a man. With a wry smile, Darcy looked with scrutiny upon the lady.

"Since it is you who is declaring such a statement towards my being, Miss Bennet, I doubt it is a complimentary observation."

"You are quick to judge, Sir."

"Am I correct?" he asked and Elizabeth did pause. This move merely confirmed the gentleman's previous stipulations and he continued. "What were you going to say, Miss Bennet? Pray, enlighten me." The lady exhaled quite deeply before she began her premeditated speech.

"I was going to conclude that Fitzwilliam is a name of wealth, some haughtiness and owners of that particular name usually own a reserved countenance. You do not speak well in a crowd. You also own a dark, quite enigmatic appearance - again adding to your quiet and insecure nature." Darcy raised a brow.

"You have analysed my character from just hearing my name?"

"Am I incorrect?"

"What if I were to tell you my name is not Fitzwilliam?"

"Then you should be lying. Your eyes betray your falsehood... they are your downfall, Sir."

"Then I shall resolve to keep them closed in your presence, Miss Elizabeth."

"Ah! You have admitted you often lie to me!" The gentleman produced a small and mysterious smile, revealing nothing to the lady. With a twisted mouth and a little pause, she continued. "Well, is my analysis correct?"

"I believe you are also quick to judge."

"I am?"

"I believe you would not have made such an analysis if we had just met, either Miss Bennet. We have known each other for a considerable amount of time and you have probably guessed all Fitzwilliam's to possess the air you have discovered and presumed thus far in me. I am also assuming you have no other acquaintance by the name of Fitzwilliam."

"Are you suggesting that I am unconsciously pronouncing all Fitzwilliam's to be the way I characterise you?"

"I am." Elizabeth pursed her lips but soon smiled out of her pout.

"We both seem to make sense of each other, Mr Darcy. As you know, I am quick to profess my observations and shall now hazard a guess at our current situation; I tell you your faults and you retort back with my own. We are both quick to judge and felt strong prejudices against one another ever since our first meeting. Your honesty tried me at first, and my impertinence did you... but I think I quite appreciate your brutal honesty." Darcy moved back slightly in almost retreat... what was she up to?

"You are teasing me." Elizabeth laughed at his motions... surely she did not intimidate a gentleman like him so greatly!

"For once, I do not tease. There, I have said it all so you have no need to declare your own opinion in the matter." She smiled at him, took his hand and shook it forcefully. "We have declared peace. A ceasefire, if you will. From now on, we shall not judge the other except on personality and nature from this moment forward."

"Do you honestly believe that to work?" He asked in true inquisition. Elizabeth rolled her eyes with a doubtful smile upon her lips.

"Most likely not," she sighed admittedly. "But at least we are recognising it and making an effort to redeem our past mistakes." Both nodded into an awkward silence as the point of topic and conversation had quite dried up. Tapping his foot upon the floor, the gentleman attempted to respond with an intelligent subject, but alas none surfaced to him. Despite the fact that the two appeared to be becoming considerably better acquainted, they still were not confident speaking to the other and nonetheless owed a slight dislike and uneasiness towards their companion, though opinions were uncommonly improved within the last few minutes.

"Whatever did happen to our quite 'unqualified' driver, Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth suddenly asked as she smiled faintly... she knew she should have been reasonably angry with the elder gentleman for causing her such pain but her playful humour and good natured countenance merely caused her to laugh at the situation. Darcy, however, did not own such easiness and she noticed the irritated emotion over his face.

"I sent him back, Miss Bennet. The man is a total lunatic...! To think he is competent enough to drive..." With a shrug, Elizabeth softly replied.

"I did warn you, Sir." With some reluctance, he returned the hunched shouldered gesture.

"And that you did, Miss Bennet," Darcy answered with no fury or pain; she was justly correct in her analysis.
Stifling a yawn and a smile, Elizabeth rubbed at her eyes with her fists. Noticing every one of these actions, Darcy suggested he leave her to rest, to which the lady flatly refused and snuggled deeper into her comforter, for she had 'slept unhealthily and too excessively'. Darcy turned to put her tray onto the tabletop and again protested to this decision but found there was no need; Miss Bennet was already soundly sleeping before he had turned back to face her.

Chapter 9

Posted on Saturday, 24 November 2001, at 1:50 p.m.

Though the gentleman himself had wished it, he could not believe how much a person could sleep! Perhaps he should not have mentioned the idea... but he supposed it was too late at present and he was too much of a gentleman to wake her. Looking back upon his reflection, he sighed with as much satisfaction as his image could coerce him to feel. He had cleaned himself up with a good shave and a change of clothes... something Elizabeth had suggested he do and had given him the money quite enthusiastically. With a wry smile, Darcy believed she had spoken and treated him almost as a mother would a child and though he was not the type of gentleman to enjoy being patronised, Elizabeth did it in a caring way that he found almost more than pleasant. Feeling sheepishly like a maid, Darcy picked the lady's cloak and bag from the floor and as he placed them neatly upon the table, discovered how much of a proficient he had become in the art of folding. However, the gentleman was still quite clumsy in the art of stacking, which was proven when Elizabeth's bag and all its contents crashed upon the ground, due to an inelegant elbow from Darcy. Hastily crouching to the ground, looking to see if he woken Elizabeth and then back to stuffing the items back into the luggage bag, the gentleman suddenly paused as he realised what exactly he was fondling. A pistol... a hairbrush... a tiny crucifix locket upon a chain... - it was surprising how much of a paradox and complication this woman was! Spirited, yet feminine. A rebel though religious... would he ever grow to understand her? Continuing to pack, a stray square of card suddenly captured his curiosity. Turning it until the masculine script scrawled upon it was in clear view, Darcy read the short message:

"With all my love. GW."

GW? The gentleman wondered with a burrowed eyebrow and an inhibited scowl. Whom is GW? A relation? An acquaintance? Perhaps, even more...?

"Mr Darcy?" Darcy shot up into a straightened form whilst a bed-ridden Elizabeth looked suspiciously upon the floor, where all her possessions were strewn about. With a raised brow and a suddenly incredulous expression, she spoke. "With all due respect, Sir; what are you doing with my things?"

"I, err..." the gentleman knew not what would come from his mouth... how would he explain his rummaging through her private belongings? "I-I accidentally seemed to have dropped your, err... bag and was merely putting your things back inside..." Putting the card hastily within the case, Darcy finished packing until there was nothing else to pack and handed it back to the rightful owner. With still quite a lot of suspicion, Elizabeth looked upon and within her bag in some depth. No doubt, he was not a thief. Everything seemed to be in place... and what exactly did she possess that he already could not afford? Darcy self-consciously looked away from the lady as she investigated with much surveillance and even when she had finally sighed with resignation. Although he appreciated he should not have been concerned, he could not help but wonder with some infuriation whom GW really was. He supposed this sudden anxiety was due to her being his travel companion... he felt an obligation to her and in an entirely impartial manner. Was this GW just a blackguard whom attempted to impose himself upon the weaker sex? Though the gentleman honestly believed that Elizabeth was too astute and feisty to be imposed upon, he did not like the manner and style in which the note was written. Stop worrying, Darcy. You sound similar to a father. Elizabeth, though had halted her excavation, still held the small card in her hand and smiled slightly as she looked upon it in some adoration; adding even further to Darcy's curiosity when she had turned the lettering to face him. Then he realised... it was not just a message but it was a painting. She had a picture of 'GW', which was autographed on the reverse side...! Now, if he could only look at it... not that he truly cared to. It was probably a relation... an old uncle or some sort from her mother's side. Nobody too important probably and not a romantic attachment... but if they were not important then why would she carry it with her few essential belongings?

"Mr Darcy," Elizabeth sighed out loud enough to finally gain the gentleman's attention. "Would I be behaving too impertinent if I asked why you have been silently staring at me for at least five minutes?" He was quite taken aback... had he truly been staring at her so?

"It was most unconsciously done," he mumbled into a cough as her eyes narrowed slightly in even further suspicion. She wished she could read into that quiet mind of his... he was such a mystery and it infuriated more than words could state when he raised that enigmatic brow of his. Presently he was staring at the window, which Elizabeth herself did finally gaze upon as his uncanny interest in it seemed a bit unusual. Dear Lord! Was it really evening? Had she really slept for so long...? Darcy sensed her incredulous discovery and coughed again before he spoke.
"Err... the dinner hour has passed but I can ask the servant girl to bring you it now if that is your wish, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth thought for a moment... she had even missed dinner. She had woken when it was time for all to sleep!

"Um... no. I actually am not too hungry." Darcy nodded and started to pick up the blanket that lay upon his chair, then proceeded in throwing it upon the floor. Elizabeth observed for a while until curiosity finally took over and induced her to inquire. "Sir, what are you doing?" she asked with a bemused smile. Darcy looked upon the chair and sighed into a grimace as the memories began to resurface.

"I would rather sleep upon the floor than sleep back upon that torturous thing." Gesturing towards the dreaded chair, Elizabeth could see how utterly awful and terribly uncomfortable it looked. She truly did grieve she had unconsciously inflicted him with such a method of torment! This is all your fault, Lizzie... he will probably need a doctor for his back by the time your head injury is long gone...!

"I apologise for causing you such trouble, Sir. It was most appreciated." To her own astonishment, Elizabeth found herself sincerely thanking and smiling at the gentleman.

"Think nothing of it," he said smiling softly back as he halted his floor/bed making. Ah! Here is the kind and quite sound Mr Darcy... Suddenly averting his eyes back to his unmade bed, the gentleman's features retreated to the former inexplicable emotion and Elizabeth found herself pouting once again. As soon as she made any breakthrough into his character, he quickly slammed the door of discovery and locked it tightly. She did not know what it was that tempted her to look into his temperament so, but she believed it might have been for the fact that he was the first person whom she truly could not analyse simply. He had an aloof and passive countenance and then a cocky side that hardly ever emerged... though she had recently seen much more of a caring and concerned aspect to his person. He was no doubt proud and obviously believed her quite below him, but these aspects she had so resented in him during their first acquaintance did not influence his being a good person. George was not half so difficult to work out! He was amiable, open and artless and the lady found herself liking him very much indeed almost immediately. Darcy, however, was a harder puzzle to work and though she did not yet possess all the pieces to finally complete her understanding of him, thus far she believed the puzzle would be quite a pleasant one to finish.

Chapter 10

Once Darcy seemed pleased enough with positioning his rectangular bed of quilts straight down by the foot of Elizabeth's wooden one, he clapped then rubbed both hands with satisfaction and produced a small and content smile. Noting these actions, the lady upon the risen bed pondered them as Darcy crawled down from her sight and stretched out upon the floor he had dressed with approval.

"Sir, are you smiling?" she asked into the dark yet warmly candlelit room. Darcy rested the back of his head upon his arm and traced his lips with his other hand to discover that he indeed was.
"I... I suppose I am."

"Well, is it the smile of a madman or does this one genuinely own a source?" she queried the end of her bed as she herself rested upon her own pillow.

"I guess it is an ironic smile." He said in quite some uncertainty. Elizabeth stretched out with a yawn and a smile.

"You guess? If you do not know, Sir, I am convinced no one else will!"

"It is quite a new feeling, Miss Bennet. Perhaps I know it is ironic but due to my inexperience in the feeling, I add the words 'guess' and 'suppose'."

"Well, pray elaborate, Mr Darcy. What enigmatic and new sense of irony are you encountering?"

"It is just that..." he chuckled softly. "I never imagined I would be sleeping on the floor of an inn." The lady snuggled deeper into her bed sheets from across the room as she gave a small laugh.

"I don't believe anyone truly does, Sir. It is not the most dignified or exciting situation to dream of." The lady spoke in amusement as she rolled to her side, allowing her eyes to close slowly.

"Very true, Miss Bennet." Darcy replied, and then yawned quite loudly. Both seemed deep in slumber when Elizabeth revealed she was not with a sudden inquiry, which caused the gentleman to stir and suddenly awake. She supposed it was due to her sleeping for most of the day... and now she was quite tired of continuing so.

"Well, are you feeling ironic in the bitter sense or in a more peculiar one?" Rubbing his perspired forehead Darcy contemplated, though he truly believed it was too late and he was much too tired to answer to the best of his ability. However, he did quite find himself enjoying Elizabeth's incessant conversation more than he previously had - she strangely owned great deal more intelligence that he could have ever imagined.

"More the latter, I think. I am... amused," he finally answered in his deep, and very drowsy, voice.

"Ah, again your tone hints that this is a new experience," Elizabeth's play soon became more sombre and serious as she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I do not suppose you have ever truly quite heartily laughed at yourself or been in odd surroundings enough to find amusing situations."

"I insist on knowing your meaning, Madam." Darcy persevered smiling, as he lifted himself up with his arms and leaned his back upon his side of the footboard; now completely awake. Curse her sleeping at the head of the bed; he could not see her at all.

"Well, let me think of a suitable analogy..." the lady tapped at her head in contemplation, and the noise caused the gentleman to wonder what she was thinking as he leaned his head upon the hard wood. Her feet also joined her meditative rhythm as she lightly tapped them upon her face of the footboard, sending vibrations through Darcy's skull, which he was still leaning upon on his side. With a click of her fingers and a triumphant sigh, she shared her thoughts. "Ah! Yes, I have one..." Elizabeth grabbed her pillow and placed it at the end of her bed, for it was easier to see and converse with the gentleman from that angle. He noticed her change of position and looked up at the direction of ceiling to see Elizabeth peering from the top of bed's footboard. Her loose curls escaped the sanctuary of the bed and fell outside of it and if they were longer, would have fallen to the gentleman's face. "If you fall upon the street, due to not noting a sudden rock - do you find embarrassment or amusement?"

"Embarrassment, of course. But do not we all?" Elizabeth smiled cheekily and her eyes twinkled with the dim candlelight as she proudly spoke.

"I am a mixture of both, Sir. So I am acceptable. Adding amusement to my embarrassment merely paints an easy and well-countenanced image of myself. Your lone embarrassment forces one to envisage that you are red-faced, have no element of jest and are too...well, serious."

"Miss Bennet, you truly do hurt my head." Darcy groaned as he grabbed at his temple; which merely caused the lady to giggle and melt his grimace slightly. "You seem to analyse every word I utter. I have to premeditate each sentence so you do not scrutinise and tear them apart, but alas I fail miserably every time."

"Well, sir. Since you make an effort in retaining your 'premeditated' pattern of speech, I shall not disappoint you. Do you dislike my analysis and questioning because I tell you things you do not wish to hear or because..."

"Your voice is keeping me awake." Producing an angry and heavy sigh, Elizabeth sat up in exasperation and embraced her pillow tighter.

"You are a boring man, Mr Darcy. How are you ever to make acquaintances when you grow tiresome so quickly with conversation?" The more annoyed the lady grew, the more Darcy enjoyed to tease her... to quite his own fascination! Her shift of position caused her to be directly out of the gentleman's line of view and he spoke indistinctly into the footboard of the bed.

"Do not distress yourself over my social life, Miss Bennet. It is only your conversation that tires me out."

Darcy laid his head back upon his cushion as he claimed his victory but this grand smile was hidden as Elizabeth's pillow made sudden and direct impact and hit him clearly upon the nose. Before the gentleman had time to retaliate to the type of move that was never directed towards his self, the lady snatched it back, jumped back to the head of the bed and blew out the candle on the bedside table. Darcy rubbed the bridge of his nose tenderly with his fingers and unconsciously revealed a small smile as he could heed Elizabeth's faint and quite muffled laughter from her side of the dark room.

Chapter 11

"Mr Darcy, if you do not hurry we will be late!" Elizabeth huffed as she dropped upon the chair in the front of the inn and eyed the stairs. Was it not customary for the lady to be the one whom was fashionably late for a departure? In her outing jacket and bonnet, Elizabeth had been quite ready to leave for a good ten minutes as she sat just a few metres away from the exit and their carriage. Darcy hurried footsteps were finally heard upon the wooden stair and the gentleman was in sight a mere few seconds afterwards. "Finally!" she cried as she stood up. "I thought we should never leave!" Elizabeth spoke in slight vexation, though was not very angry for Darcy's smile released her own.

"Never leave? It was not so very bad here but I shall be glad to see the back of it, Miss Bennet." Darcy answered in composure, though with laughing eyes. He was suddenly so much easier with to speak and so much more entertaining to be in company with. Though he even now spoke in his trademark deep and reserved accent he, without hesitation, could smile freely and had even discovered to laugh at not only his surroundings, but also himself! Elizabeth flattered herself with the hope that this sudden and positive character alteration was due to her influence - and she did quite hope it was. Taking their few belongings, Darcy began to place them upon a bar table. Twisting her mouth into an odd smile, Elizabeth once again observed the gentleman's work for a while before she spoke.

"Would you call us friends, Mr Darcy?" Darcy turned back from the table and looked over his shoulder to the lady as he glanced upon her with some confusion. What had induced her to ask this?

"Pardon?" She repeated herself with a smile and sigh, knowing she would be required to do so... once a question popped into her head she asked it without informing the other (usually quite ignorant of the subject) party.

"Would you call us friends? We are acquainted... but I believed the definition of friendship is something deeper; something that borders upon liking. So, are we mere associates or friends?" I like you very much indeed, Elizabeth. What was suddenly wrong with him? This could not have just been induced by Fitzwilliam's juvenile assumptions - Miss Elizabeth Bennet quite seriously affected him. But how could she not? Her teasing, her intelligence, her looks and those terribly distracting dark eyes of hers...
With a small croak, Darcy managed to speak as her quite glowing face gazed expectantly upon him.

"I would like to say we are friends." He spoke truthfully. Elizabeth nodded in concurrence, and with a bob of her head, her curls bounced excitedly.

"As would I. Good then it is settled." Before Darcy could share his thoughts on the subject, Elizabeth spoke yet again and immediately. "And as official friends, maybe we can finally release ourselves from using our formal names. What say you to that, sir?"

"Fine," He answered with a small smile as he quietly added, "...Elizabeth." With a mischievous glint in her eye Elizabeth teasingly asked,

"May I call you Fitz?"

"Not if you wish for an answer, Madam," He said straight-faced as he picked up her bag and headed towards the carriage. This merely caused the lady to giggle as the gentleman did so only when out of her sight - his dry humour very nearly reminded her of her dear father. Retelling herself of the importance of her father's situation, the lady remembered and reminded herself that he was in need of her to act quickly. Looking back at Darcy, she felt suddenly quite guilty. She had not wished for his good opinion prior to the present and she genuinely did not care if the gentleman considered her desire for the money selfish. But at this moment, the circumstances were all so altered. He was a truly kind man, and she did not aspire for him to dislike her and to believe her gluttonous. To her own astonishment, she found herself attempting to redeem herself in his opinion, for she in all honesty did crave Mr Darcy to, well... approve of her. It was not as though she had feelings for the gentleman... no, not at all. Well, he was unmistakeably handsome and not only kind but pleasurable to be presence with... but he was proud. Elizabeth looked upon the gentleman who turned back around and graced her with a small yet confused smile at her troubled look. Oh God. This strike on the head has taken its toll, Lizzie! You cannot possibly be having feelings for... Mr Darcy? Rummaging vigorously within her quite tiny material hand bag, Elizabeth only ceased once her gloved fingers made contact with that familiar feeling card and she pulled out George's small portrait into the sunshine. Clutching it tightly and pressing it against her chest, the lady exhaled as she attempted to rid herself of these provoking thoughts. Mainly focusing her mind on Wickham's features, Elizabeth finally opened her eyes once she was convinced Darcy was no longer affecting her thoughts. However, this was little help, for the foremost article the lady caught sight of was the distracting gentleman's face... and it did not look well pleased. Initially, Elizabeth was none too certain what had motivated him to look so suddenly bad-tempered but her eyes followed down to his angered gaze, which went quite past her neck to her hand and then ... Dear Lord! He was staring at her picture...! What could it mean? He could not possibly be jealous? No, that could not be it; he probably disapproves of my attachment to George. A man like he would think it improper... he probably believes my behaviour as substandard and indecent... O, The nerve of the man! And to imagine that I began to consider him amiable...! Darcy endeavoured to rein in his unexpectedly quite hostile resentment for a man whose name he did not yet know, let alone a face he had seen. With as much composure as he could muster, he mumbled towards the lady.

"The carriage is ready, Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Mr Darcy," she spoke bitterly as she brushed passed him and then proceeded to sit within the open carriage with crossed arms and a scowl upon her handsome face. With an open mouth and his own body following her direction of movement, Darcy soon gave up trying to understand what had happened. All he truly knew was that they were back to using their formal names once again... hence, they were presently not friends.
What have I done now? O, why should you care, Darcy? Women are intolerable and an entire mystery! I do not believe you should even effort to stab a deduction at your wrongdoings. Sometimes I truly believe the woman is a lunatic... Attempting to slide beside her, Darcy soon discovered that she would not give way and allow him to sit. After many polite pleadings to move, he had had quite enough of this fiery tempered country girl and found himself climbing over the lady's lap to the empty seat beside her. After much effort, the gentleman finally managed to place both feet upon the solid carriage ground and both companions found themselves crossing their arms and each glaring out of their own windows.

"You stepped upon my knee," The lady stated simply as she continued to pout. The gentleman beside her said not a word... merely adding further to Elizabeth's now foul mood. The two sat in quite the most awkward silence that had ever taken place in the whole of history, both regretting their previous actions towards the other. Darcy was the first to talk as the wary coachmen looked at one another in anxiety... quite unsure in what manner they should now follow.

"You should put that picture back within your bag, Madam," the gentleman muttered indirectly to the lady. "You would not wish to ruin it." O! He is teasing me, now is he? Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in irritation as she spoke through he teeth.

"Indeed I do not, and when you kindly remove yourself from sitting on that very bag, I shall follow your wise request." Thinking it a cushion, the gentleman quite comfortably sat upon her bag, but seeing the look upon Elizabeth's face, he fought against the urge of retorting back and refusing to return it. Lifting his body off the small material accessory he casually dropped it into her lap. He knew he should have kept quiet as she put the picture back but he could not help but contain his thoughts... a problem the young Fitzwilliam Darcy had not owned since his childhood. Turning to face her, he unwisely and quite suddenly spoke. His question had quite thrown the lady and she found she could not speak as he asked it with a knotted brow.

"Miss Bennet, why exactly do you need three thousand pounds?"

Chapter 12

Posted on Monday, 26 November 2001, at 6:45 p.m.

If he was asked after the event what had prompted him to ask the lady such a question, Fitzwilliam Darcy would have shrugged his shoulders and truly declared that he had not a clue. However, he probably would have had an unconscious inkling it was due to GW once again - damn him. Darcy genuinely did loathe him intensely... not only was this scoundrel romancing Elizabeth but he was going to be profiting from the gentleman's own pocket! Was his three thousand pounds a present from a naďve Elizabeth to a villainous GW? Was she merely venturing to Bath to set off with this mystery creature and take Darcy's money to pay the expenses for their wedding day?! He looked back upon Elizabeth beside him, whom had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep against the stable coach wall. He recalled his asking that question and also the conversation they had had but a few short hours prior to the present as he silently examined her...

"Miss Bennet, why exactly do you need three thousand pounds?" She did not speak immediately. She did not yell, or inform him the affair was none of his business. The lady merely looked stunned, and then quite defeated.

"I do not wish to lie to you, Sir," Darcy had slowly smiled dryly and both their faces had softened considerably. The anger seemed to have quite dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

"I hint a 'however' in your tone, Miss Bennet." She returned his sad smile as the tone of conversation had dropped low indeed.

"However, I do not wish to tell you either." She had dropped her eyes to her lap and fidgeted with her gloved hands. That was the instant Darcy had almost nervously placed his hands comfortingly upon the lady's.

"Will you ever tell me... Elizabeth?" With a small returned smile, she sighed slightly and softly replied.

"I am sure I will."

After that, Darcy could not entirely or precisely bring to mind the remainder of their tęte-ŕ-tęte, though it did range from many subjects to their enjoyment for the same books and literature to their lives, their siblings and anything else they wished to discuss. Both were quite surprised to see how oddly similar they were. But they did not speak about money. Darcy did not desire to consider it yet again - he had felt a pain in his chest when Elizabeth had looked so close to tears and he did not intend to ever encounter it once more...

The gentleman had leaned back upon the upholstered interior as he listened to the thunder crash villainously out his window. The lightning flashed so incredibly brightly that the coach seemed to be in daylight for but a second; an aid which assisted his studying Elizabeth closer... which he could now do without fear of being caught. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping, and not at all as heated and hazardous as she was. Both moonlight and lightning illuminated her smooth ivory skin and made her look almost angelic as a small smile played upon her dark lips. The gentleman had admired her many a time silently during their short acquaintance but he could not imagine a time when she looked so breathtaking. With a reluctant sigh, Darcy made an even further more disinclined conclusion; he was dangerously close to being very much in love with Elizabeth Bennet. Despite the fact that he had tried to rebuff his feelings and forcefully attempted to dislike the lady, he in his heart knew he could not and had resolutely decided he would halt these silly notions; it would do no good. In vain he had struggled, but he could not deny he was falling under her spell. With another terribly loud crash of thunder, Elizabeth stirred slightly and he was surprised how eagerly he anticipated viewing her disoriented and shining eyes gazing upon him. With a small yawn, the lady stretched and graced the gentleman with a smile and as she slowly woke, her eyes focused upon him.

"Are we there yet?" she stifled a yawn as she lifted herself up by her arms. Darcy shook his head she averted her head and shut her eyes away from the recent strike of lightning affecting her sight.

"No; we are not even halfway to our destination. I believe I saw a sign indicating we are in Worcestershire at present." Elizabeth looked anxious as she gazed out her window and attempted to catch sight of their driver. She only managed to spy his hand and sighed into retreat as she leaned back upon her seat.

"I wish he would hurry, or at least accelerate." She said as she wrung her handkerchief between her hands, and Darcy could sense her agitation.

"Any faster and we would be travelling dangerously," He spoke comfortingly, though in his head he begged to wish to know why she was in such a hurry. With another heavy sigh, Elizabeth thumped backwards into her seat... however a small smile soon emerged from her glower.

"May I ask you something?" She is up to something, Darcy... Why does that smile excite me so? Remain calm and collected, Man.

"Ask away, I have not stopped you thus far."

"You have not had time to, sir. What I truly wish to ask is if you are willing to answer my query."

"Query away and then I shall conclude whether to answer to it." Elizabeth shook her head in some exasperation as the gentleman merely offered an infuriating smile.

"Why can we not seem to provide one another with a simple reply?"

"Mainly due to the fact that the questioning party asks a query that cannot be simply answered." He said reserved, though his eyes sparkled with sport. Elizabeth sighed in resignation as Darcy triumphed inside of his small victory. For once he had tired Elizabeth out!

"What do you do all day, Sir?" With a sufficient enough pause, Elizabeth finished. "Will you answer it?"

"I am in company with you as we attempt to reach Bath."

"I mean, the days before our acquaintance." The days before he had known Elizabeth? Were they even worth remembering? With a creased both brow and forehead, Darcy reflected... what exactly did he accomplish on a daily basis?

"Well, I mainly spent my time with my sister either in my townhouse or at Pemberley, though I regrettably do not see her very often. I also would be at my club in London for either business or..." He halted once looking upon Elizabeth's smiling expression. With a genuine act of suspicion, he referred to it. "I feel I have amused you again, Elizabeth."

"Which is your home, sir? Your family home?" She asked immediately, with still that mischievous look upon her handsome features.

"That would be Pemberley."

"And how often do you spend there?"

"I have not sufficient time to spend long there, unfortunately." Darcy again halted and shifted quite uncomfortably in his chair as a look of unease soon unleashed upon his face; he truly felt great disquiet in conversations he felt were solely initiated to censure him. Elizabeth noted this and felt suddenly guilty; sometimes she felt her playful nature went too far with others who were not accustomed to its easiness.

"You do not like being laughed at, do you, Sir?" She asked softly, and then added for reassurance purposes, "I am simply teasing."

"I always believe teasing has a sense of ridicule within its general definition," He quietly replied, unable to stare her in the eye for too long a session. Thunder crashed yet again, and even louder, causing the gentleman to turn his anxious head simultaneously with the appearance of lightning - the storm was closer than he had expected. Turing back, Elizabeth's face had lost its defiant glow, and unnerved the gentleman even further with its deathly serious alternative.

"Do you truly believe I am ridiculing you?" Does she almost sound distressed? But why should she care for your feelings? She loathes you, Darcy...

"Well, aren't you?"

"I laugh at you, Sir, to merely loosen your stiff character. I would never intentionally wish to hurt you."

"It is just my pride you injure, Miss Elizabeth,"

"And you are proud of being proud?"

"I believe it is under good regulation, yes." Elizabeth smiled slightly. Perhaps there was a time when she would have considered that statement as conceited... but why should he not be proud? He was rich, kind, good-hearted and handsome. He had every cause to revel in his own greatness... though she truly believed he did not own enough confidence to think so well of himself. With one more flash of lightning and crash of thunder, Elizabeth fell into his lap. This action was more due to the lightning impacting upon her side of the carriage then her frightened need for comfort. With the lady in his arms, Darcy at first could not speak. However, his emotions soon retreated once he had realised that the wheel was on fire and the coach out of control.

"Oh, not again..." He moaned as the carriage slowly rolled from off the road and even gradually decelerated into a halt within a nearby field.

Chapter 13

The coach may have ceased movement, but the violence of the storm did not. Both gentleman and lady looked with the utmost concern upon the other before they even knew of their own conditions.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?"

"Fitzwilliam...?" Elizabeth smiled slightly as Darcy helped her back up to her seat. Why do I not dislike the wa she speaks my name? Their simultaneous questions drew the faintest smile from the gentleman as Elizabeth continued. "I am fine. Yourself?" With a short dry laugh, Darcy replied.

"Not even a scratch; though I do not believe the coach can preach so." She wished he would not smile like that. This is not just another coincidence... you are actually having romantic thoughts concerning Mr Darcy. But why do I not believe this is wrong...? Blushing at her sudden judgment, Elizabeth remembered how blessed she was by currently residing in the dark.

"Erm, what happened exactly?" She managed to squeak while his arm continued to hold her waist as she steadied onto her seat.

"We seemed to have miraculously been struck by lightning." He chuckled a soft, ironic laugh though Elizabeth for once did not see light in this matter.

"Well, what do we do now?" Exiting the broken coach, Darcy conversed with the driver. With a curious eye, Elizabeth could observe the gentleman shrugging his shoulders at the anxious looking coach driver. Exhaling a heavy sigh, Darcy walked back with slumped shoulders and a defeated look. Sitting beside her, he did not speak. "Well?" She asked in anticipated anxiety.

"He is to go on the horse for help," He said simply.

"And what about us?"

"Well, I suggest we find somewhere to rest for the night before we walk further. He assures me there is a village but a few miles north and we can..." Have you forgotten about father already? A handsome face has made you forget what you owe to him? Even Elizabeth was surprised to hear her sudden outburst, which would lead us to conclude the gentleman was dumbfounded.

"I cannot believe this to be possible! It is almost as though someone is by design endeavouring to prevent us reaching Bath!" Darcy mumbled in slight discomfort... he was not easy when Elizabeth grew emotional.

"I-I suppose... the heavens do not wish us to get there..." This only caused the lady to throw up her hands.

"O, blast the heavens! This cannot be occurring... this cannot! I cannot procrastinate any longer. He could be dead for all I know...!"

Both grew silent as Elizabeth abruptly halted. She knew she should not have said it and Darcy knew he should not have heard it. At length, he gently inquired.

"Whom?" The lady shook her head as her tears finally flowed from days of holding them back.

"My father." she whispered back, avoiding any possible eye contact by hanging her head low. Darcy offered a handkerchief with a shaky hand - what had happened to her father? Could he be of any assistance? "He-he... is..."

"Yes?" He softly prompted.

"I'll be off now then, Sir." Both of their heads turned to the recently spoken driver, whom had realised how unwanted his words were when the gentleman looked severely displeased. With a small nod, he trotted off upon his horse - and quite happily so... he did not wish to stay a moment longer with Darcy in such a mood! Darcy turned back to see Elizabeth wipe her tears vigorously away. With a sniff and a weak smile, she spoke.

"Can we please not talk of this, Fitzwilliam?"

"If that is your wish, Elizabeth."

"Yes," she nodded then laughed slightly and self-consciously with another dab of her teary eyes. "You must think me a madwoman with my eccentric mood swings."

"Not at all," he spoke roughly as he held back the urge to grab her hand as he had bravely done before. Again the silence approached, and it seemed to be growing in awkwardness with very appearance. With an embarrassing smile, Elizabeth decided she needed to break the quiet... why were things suddenly so odd between them?

"Maybe we should, erm... walk..." She clumsily suggested. With an equally as gauche nod, Darcy concurred.
"Yes, err... we should do that."

Taking their few belongings, the two travellers did indeed walk for civilisation... and after an hour the only sophisticated area they discovered was a barn. Deciding it was too late for them to walk any further, for it was unlikely they would find any other area to rest, Elizabeth resolved this shelter would have ample enough facilities to respite in for the night - though Darcy did not instantaneously consent to this solution.

"Well, there is nowhere else to sleep but this hay, Sir." She argued with a smile, dropping her bags onto the straw, and then falling upon it herself.

"Hay?"

"Do not tell me that you have never once in your childhood slept in a barn?"

"Well then I shall not tell you." Poking her tongue at him, Darcy grinned then took off his jacket; rolling it into the vague shape of a pillow. Lying on the haystack beside her own, Darcy smiled at her huge grin. Initially, he did not ponder why she unexpectedly looked so pleased but once she began to attempt suppressing an unshakeable giggle he became suspicious. Suddenly, a smell enveloped over him and Darcy turned slightly as he followed it. A plump brown cow looked straight back upon him, and then decided to occupy herself with prodding with her new guest with her muzzle.

"Elizabeth, there is a cow sniffing at my face." He said through clenched teeth, unmoving in trepidation.

"It seems to like you, sir." She giggled behind her hands.

"What shall I do?"

"How am I to know?" Why can I not stop laughing!? "I have never hazarded upon the situation."

"Can you distract it?" he asked desperately as his new friend began to lick upon his face, which only caused Elizabeth to practically snort with restrained laughter.

"Do I resemble a shepherdess? Or a cowardess?" However, Daisy soon lost interest and with a flick of her tail, resided back to her own part of the barn. Though feeling tremendously humiliated, Elizabeth's sweet laughter made it almost worthwhile. Well, at least she is laughing once again. Suddenly realising he could now breath fresher air, Darcy inhaled deeply as he whispered (just in case the heifer decided to return).

"I could not imagine a cow could smell so foul!"

"Well, what did you expect?" Elizabeth asked teasingly, burrowing her head deeper within the hay as she attempted to seek further comfort.

"I did not quite expect that."

"It merely smells like the country," She defended the poor animal. And then smiled. "Ah! I forget, you dislike the country." You are still prejudice against my kind... Darcy, however, adamantly shook his head.

"It is improving on me," he said in pure seriousness and genuinely. "Perhaps I did not think of it as well as I do now... but I believe at present I like it very much indeed," He stared upon the lady and found he could only croak the next. "I believe I may even be so bold to pronounce that I could happily spend my entire life in the country."

"I thought you disapproved of the savagery of the manners," she laughed nervously as she averted her eyes. Darcy lay his head back down on the hay as he studied her reddened expression. "For even you said it was not as rich as town."

"It is more beautiful."

"I am suddenly tired." She said automatically and in an expressionless tone - she was not tired at all. The conversation was growing too serious and the metaphor to close to heart. He nervously agreed, inside angrily scolding himself for having no restraint... what did she think of him? He was as immoral as that villainous GW! Well, as immoral as he believed GW to be.

"It has been a long day," He agreed, though he also was not tired in the slightest.

"Goodnight, Fitzwilliam," She said closing her eyes. With a small, somewhat shy smile, Darcy closed his own.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth."

Chapter 14

"Ah, a brothel..." Elizabeth sighed as both herself and Darcy stood outside it. They had woken early to walk to the village and finding it, were not wholly surprised a public house was the first place they encountered upon. Observing the place with scrutiny, neither mentioned it's ragged appearance or overwhelmingly horrid smell.

"Which means they have coaches," Darcy said optimistically, still looking upon the ancient building in some awe. Elizabeth turned her head to smile at him dryly.

"We do not seem to have the best luck with coaches, Fitzwilliam." With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Darcy graced her with a returning small smile.

"Well, there is nothing else to be done." Both agreeing this was the unfortunate the case, they reluctantly settled between them to enter. Despite the fact that the gentleman did not wish to take Elizabeth willingly within a rowdy public house, he honestly could not safely leave her to linger (quite alone!) outside the rough location. He could not tolerate to see her hurt... and for her to be harmed under his watch...? Darcy would never allow it. Grasping her hand, he startled the lady considerably enough to stutter.

"W-What are you doing?" she hissed, as her face blushed scarlet. Though it was simply contact the two had previously experienced with one another in a quite innocent handshake, it lacked propriety and things were already so quite terribly awkward between them... The lady truly believed the act was quite insensible. Darcy, though found some fondness in touching her, did not think of decorum - he seemed to have thrown the book he had abided by his entire life quite out the window. She had changed him in a way he would never have imagined. He spoke simply and calmly.

"Protest as much as you wish, Madam, but I refuse to set this hand free till we are quite safely away from this place." It was almost touching. He did truly care for her safety... and though she did indeed doubt it before, his obstinate voice betrayed some true affection. She pouted slightly, although she discerned that she could not really intensify with anger towards him when he was being so well... un-infuriating. He had appeared to have ceased viciously vexing her nerves quite a time ago.

"I can look after myself, Fitzwilliam," she sighed in some aggravation. "Sometimes, I think you believe me a child whom you can't leave alone for too long lest she hurts herself!"

"Elizabeth, stop being difficult," He whispered hoarsely as they entered; the blare of laughter and boisterous cries deafened them both temporary.

"I am never difficult!" She whispered back quite loudly to be heard above the din as they approached the bar. She was quite utterly affronted - when did she betray stubbornness in her character? ...Dear lord, Lizzie! You always do! How can you even aspire for Mr Darcy to think of you romantically when you are always so unnecessarily cruel to him? There. She had admitted it. She wanted Mr Darcy to declare he was partial to her. It suddenly explained so much. It explained why she was always so cutting with him when he frequently did not deserve it... and why she teased him so. But she wanted for him to stop thinking of her as the poor and determined country girl and find a woman whom was not constantly so hurtful. But was she in love...? Well, she believed she had feelings for him... but that hardly intended love. And as for fancy... she was not quite sure if she liked the unrequited feeling of it. To think, I would not have even thought of him as a friend!

"Why won't you ever let me do the talking?" Darcy asked with a grimace as whispered into her ear... the noise was still terribly loud, and Elizabeth was almost terrified of his closeness as his breath tickled her cheek.

"Because I-I can do so myself." She said stammering, though ever independent. Darcy gave her a half smile as he realised how much of a father he had sounded.

"Just try not to look at anyone or anything. They get provoked easily enough." With a twisted pout, she did not answer back, though she was terribly tempted to. He infuriated her so much...! It was almost as though he held her upon a leash like a wild animal! "Are there any coaches available, Sir?" The gentleman asked the barkeep, ever still grasping the lady's hand tighter... knowing escape was utmost in her mind. Elizabeth sighed as she turned away, the conversation between the two men bored her slightly and watching Darcy did nothing but confuse her already quite frustrated feelings. And though he had warned against it, she turned her head to listen to the conversation the disorderly group of men further on were openly displaying...

"I've heard that he is seven feet tall and has eyes as black as coals...!"

"Nonsense. You always did distort the truth, Higgins!"

"I do not. Ask Bradley, he will tell you!" Higgins retorted back, somewhat slighted.

"Yes, he was there! Were you not?" Another voice chirped. The cloaked, tall man in the corner (whom the lady presumed to be Bradley) leaned forward and spoke huskily. Elizabeth nearly lost her balance from leaning ever closer to eavesdrop.

"Yes, and take caution in my words, gentleman. The Black Rider is neither cowardly nor human... he is a legend. And I have seen him."

"Is it true that not only does he wards off criminals but gives to the poor, as well?!" Higgins called again in excitement.

"Gives to the poor? He sounds mentally disturbed, Sir!" The sceptic answered with a snort. Bradley seemed to grace the gentleman with a look that ceased his amused expression and replaced it with an almost petrified one. Elizabeth was not surprised; this 'Bradley' looked utterly terrifying.

"He took on the whole Denver Clan with just a warning and a raised pistol... and he had the deepest, most terrifying voice I ever did hear." He said softly, glaring at the cynic even now. Elizabeth turned to Darcy, who had ceased his prattle, and unconsciously squeezed his hand tighter in her excitement. He, on the other hand, quite consciously returned the tightened gripped.

"Fitzwilliam, they are talking of me, I am sure of it! Those men, they are speaking about me...!" Elizabeth's face glowed with exhilaration and she grinned quite elatedly. Feeling quite foolishly like her mother, the lady for once did not care. Darcy could not help but return her smile... how could he resist her when she was so delightful?

"I would not get excited, Madam. They believe you to be a seven foot tall man." he said with a small ironic smile as looked upon her... she definitely was no seven-foot man. She was his saviour... a woman. And he found he was not ashamed as he first was - he was surprisingly quite honoured. Turning to the barkeep once again, Darcy motioned for him to approach. In a hushed whisper he spoke, and Elizabeth again pryingly listened attentively. What can you be up to, Sir?

"Where is the nearest Police bureau?"

"Quite near, Sir," The man replied.

"Could you please call a pair of inconspicuous officers?"

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth finally asked Darcy in a whisper.

"With his tall (and quite loud!) tales of being one of the Clan, Mr Bradley shall be caught in no time, I dare say." Darcy smiled and raised a brow, adding an astute and almost devilish expression on his face. She shook her head in a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

"Very good, Fitzwilliam." He shrugged.

"Thank you Elizabeth."

"But why are you bothering?"

"My slain men deserve justice." She graced him with a wry smile.

"I did not think you cared." Darcy's face darkened as a grimace fell over his face.

"You truly think I'm a cold hearted rich man, do you not?"

"Most men would not have bothered, is all I am saying," She said nervously, avoiding both his question and the upsetting look in his eyes.

"Well, perhaps you should not judge on first impressions," Darcy boldly put forth. A transgression we are both quite culpable of. With a small smile Elizabeth turned to face him.

"I can safely pronounce that neither of us ever shall again." She was not sure if she knew what that gaze held between them... but it seemed to be mutual understanding. Words were not needed. Suddenly the bartender spoke.

"Your carriage is ready outside, Sir." Breaking the stares, Darcy offered his arm and Elizabeth took it as she returned the smile. Once outside, they looked at each with amusement as they glanced upon their mode of transportation.

"Do you believe this looks lightning prone, Fitzwilliam?" She asked with a raised brow and a cheeky grin.

"No, and the driver does not look like he could be my grand father's great uncle." Darcy replied with jest. With a small shrug of her shoulders, Elizabeth exhaled.

"Perhaps the third time will be lucky." Darcy nodded as he looked upon the expectation in her eyes.

"I hope for us both it is."

Chapter 15

Posted on Wednesday, 28 November 2001, at 4:05 p.m.

She was in love. There was no refuting it now and soliciting questions of 'What if...' She had quite formally informed herself of it. Simply studying him sleeping across from her had verified the extent of her feelings. She could not see herself with anyone else, and in some horror, realised she would preferably reside in that coach eternally then return home. Only her father remained foremost in her mind to Fitzwilliam... she had to get to George.

Taking the picture of that particular gentleman from her bag once again, she sighed as she examined it. Elizabeth had to admit he was still handsome, even now looked dashing in regimentals and he did not minimize in his natural attractiveness. But she felt nothing for him. It was never truly a love match as she had believed... for the way she felt about Fitzwilliam Darcy was completely new and almost frightened her with its intensity. She had never wished to run away with George, forget her entire family and think him as the only person in the world. She did with the gentleman opposite her. How could I have been so blind to not see he was so handsome and kind? And wonderful? But how could he ever suffer the same towards her? She had been nothing but obstinate and malicious, and so offensively teasing! And what precisely did she possess to offer? She had no money, no connections and was not striking like Jane... she had absolutely nothing to satisfy him with. Why would he even look twofold at her? However, if the lady were knowledgeable of his own opinion on the subject, she would not undergo such a feeling of inadequacy and have such a desperate need to burst into tears.

Darcy had agonisingly discovered his feelings a reasonable time before Elizabeth and had been feeling incompetent for quite unbearably longer. Her connections and breeding, the two articles he had stressed so much about her during their first encounter, did not concern him any further. She was merely Elizabeth... and he had decided a period back that he wanted to marry her. There were many occasions where he had very nearly uttered those words and had almost asked her... but he could not. He could not bear to hear the rejection that he knew was imminent. She would never wish to be with an arrogant and proud young man whom had slandered not only herself but also her kind. Why would she? Why would any sensible and beautiful young woman wish to be legally bound to such a monster? And in spite of everything else, there was GW. She had already presented her affection upon him, and Darcy had never truly resented and envied another being as violently as he did him. The feelings between the gentleman and lady were even fiercer with the fact they were with one another every moment. Perhaps if they were separated then the couple would be able to investigate their feelings quite calmly... but to be in the presence with the object of your affection every waking minute? It was surprising that neither went mad by not declaring their feelings...

Elizabeth did not note Darcy stirring into consciousness as she looked upon George, so had not the time to stuff the picture back into her bag before the gentleman observed it. However, before he was completely out of his slumber, he mumbled one word.

"Elizabeth..."

The lady froze as she looked upon him. Had he said it? Had she truly heard it? She was not in acquaintance with another existing word that sounded vaguely like Elizabeth... Did she dare to entertain the hope that he felt the same amount of ardour for herself? Staring at him with wide eyes, Elizabeth held the portrait in her trembling hand as Fitzwilliam Darcy slowly awoke. Of course, being half asleep, he was unaware and quite oblivious to the fact he had called her name in his sleep... though did commit to memory that he'd had a very agreeable dream of being at Pemberley with Elizabeth as his wife. Observing the factual Elizabeth ahead of him caused him to smile with indisputable pleasure... but then he stopped. She was still holding that infernal picture. Does she sincerely enjoy teasing and antagonising me with it...? The smile that made her heart flutter departed as quickly as it had appeared and Elizabeth knew not what had caused it until her confused and concerned eyes looked upon his gaze. It had been two occasions now that he had produced such an irritated gaze towards George's picture. Nevertheless, did this denote that the gentleman was jealous? She honestly hoped dearly, and quite selfishly, that it did. Tearing his very nearly livid gaze away from the small white square of paper, Darcy turned to the heavens; it was already dark as the sun began setting, producing an orange and magenta sky - it was quite a sight to behold.

"I did not realise how very nearly we are there," he said softly as he looked upon a sign, indicating they were approaching but a few miles from Bath. Elizabeth suddenly felt her world mute around her ears in the knowledge of this information. I will never see him again...

"We are there already?" She managed to whisper, hardly able enough to speak devoid of revealing her sentiments.

"It has taken long enough, Elizabeth," He uttered in a believably cool indifference whilst refusing to meet her gaze by looking upon the horizon; his hair violently blowing with the wind. "I for one believe too long. It-it will be a blessing to finally reach our destination." Do not look at her, Darcy... do not let her bewitch you to retract your words... It had all been a fad. Her almost believing he might have had a minuscule amount of affection for her. The whole trip and her devotion for him amounted to nothing.

"Will it indeed?" she asked in a trembling voice, holding back the troublesome tears that pricked upon her eyes. "And I suppose it has been a punishment travelling with such a lowly and overbearing country girl? Why should I not be surprised that you will be glad to see the back of me?" I will glad that you will not be so close to distract me so... Darcy did not speak; he could not. How could he when she was exclaiming those things? Elizabeth looked desperately in anger and distress towards him. Why did he not retort as he used to? In exasperation, she spoke again. "Are you not even going to speak? To answer me? To tell me my connections mean nothing to you?"

"They mean nothing to me."

"Look upon my face and tell me so, Fitzwilliam." Darcy shook his head. He could not bear to see the tears her voice betrayed were already current in her eyes. With his best attempt at a strong voice, Darcy struggled to substitute the subject matter.

"I do not wish to get into an argument with you before we reach Bath, Elizabeth. We shall be there presently and I do not wish to part on ill words."

"I do not want to go to Bath tonight." Her own words stunned her and she identified her father required assistance instantaneously... but her heart refused to comply. She could not bear to part from Darcy; not now.

"Were you not the desperate party?" He asked bitterly, trying not to show the yearning to be longer in her company.

"It is too late and no one shall be awake by the time we reach the area," She said almost dignified in a dangerous whisper. "And I do not wish to sleep in the coach tonight." He turned to her incredulously.

"You wish to stay the night when we could be there in but two hours?" She pursed her lips and spoke haughtily, against her own wishes.

"I believe your hearing is not that deficient, Sir. That is exactly what I am demanding." Before Darcy could protest again, the lady stuck her head out the window and called to the driver. "Could you please stop at the nearest inn. Myself and Mr Darcy wish to rest for the night."

Chapter 16

Elizabeth sat upon the bed as she looked anxiously upon the clock upon the mantle in her room for the thousandth time. He still had not returned and the lady was almost afraid to venture downstairs of the inn to set off in search of him.

As soon as they had arrived at the inn, she had run to her room and locked the gentleman out. After much pounding upon the door, he finally ceased his efforts and Elizabeth had not heard from Darcy in almost two full hours. What if something has happened to him? What if those spiteful words you uttered are the last you shall ever communicate to Fitzwilliam? Dear God, what have I done? How shall I survive if some awful affair has occurred?

Sitting five additional minutes in such an agitated state, Elizabeth at long last resolved to head for the door when it suddenly opened and a rugged Darcy stood leaning at the doorway. She did not run to him and embrace him in relief as she had wished to. She merely remained entrenched upon the spot. She did not even the speak comforting words she had intended and instead found her voice rising.

"Where have you been?" She demanded in near tears as he hobbled into the room and fell upon a chair clumsily. Have you any idea what you have put me through? The smell of liquor answered Elizabeth's spoken query for the gentleman. She could not believe it. He has been drinking downstairs all this time...!?

"If I am to remember correctly, you locked me out, Madam," He managed to slur out, holding his head in his hands.

"You have been drinking." It was a dubious statement more than a question - she had provoked him to drink...? Darcy did not answer this question, or the others she hurtled at him in distressed impatience. Almost out of nowhere, he finally spoke

"Is it not time for us to part?" He growled. Elizabeth guessed incorrectly on the gentleman's genuine feelings and felt her lip tremble against her wishes.

"If it is your wish to hurry, Sir, we shall leave first thing in the morning." I cannot believe he is intoxicated... and on our last night in each other's company!

"You should hurry to your precious GW," he said the last word in some disgust. "I am sure he is awaiting your arrival... with the utmost anticipation." This cannot be our last ever meeting... For God sake, Darcy... Stop being so proud and look at me...! Beg me to stay... In a reserved voice, the lady finally spoke robustly as she attempted composure and to demonstrate to both Darcy and herself she was faithfully not affected.

"You still owe me the money sir, so I do not believe this is the last time out paths will be crossed."

"Indeed I do," he gave a dry chuckle. Fumbling drunkenly into his coat pocket, Darcy took out a largely packed handkerchief and Elizabeth could distinguish a wad of straight neat notes within it. "I am sure you do not have to count it, Miss Bennet. There is exactly three thousand pounds in that handkerchief, plus two hundred in expenses." He spoke bitterly.

"Where did you acquire this from?" She asked in a frantic whisper... it was all suddenly coming to an end.

"I wrote to my cousin Fitzwilliam once again, informing him if he did not send the money I would never articulate with him again." Elizabeth stood silently. Once he noted she would not take it from him, Darcy dropped it upon the bed beside his chair.

Balancing his bowed, hidden head and anguished face behind his hands, she suddenly softly broke the lengthy silence.

"I do not love him." The gentleman dropped his hands to his lap then promptly froze.

"Why must you torture me so?" He eventually whispered faintly after another quiet, refusing to meet her gaze as he stared upon his hands. He is tortured!? Does he have the smallest idea of how I am feeling?

"I do not as you inflict upon me," Elizabeth cried as she stood directly a foot in front of him and talked down as he continued to sit upon the chair. "Upon my word, you have no real inclination what pain is!" He, for once, met her intense gaze and though still quite inebriated, stumbled enough to manage to stand strongly towering over her as he fashioned a determined and enraged look.

"Do you expect me to believe that this man, whose picture you carry with you with your few meagre possessions and stare upon lovingly every instance I gaze upon you, is in no way an attachment?!" The reserved Darcy suddenly had disappeared, and the true open, hurt and confused young man emerged. The alcohol had dissolved the enigma; here he genuinely was in front of her... and she could not help but love him further. Elizabeth averted her glistening eyes.

"He was once," She whispered softly in nostalgia. With a cross of his arms and a bitter look upon his face, Darcy spluttered.

"And pray, what has affected this change of heart?"

Clenching her fists, Elizabeth lost all former restraint, her eyes were stinging and blinding with her unshed tears and her face was burning with heat.

"You! Why must you punish me? It is you! Do you wish me to fall at your feet and declare my love?" Darcy did not speak... it could not be true. The alcohol must have been playing with his mind. This act only induced the lady to do the very thing she almost rhetorically suggested. Elizabeth descended to her knees and looked up at Darcy's tall frame as her searing tears threatened dangerously to pour from her eyes.

"Elizabeth, please get up and do not cry," he begged as he looked away. "You know I cannot bear it."

"Why do you not pick me up?" She quite beseeched boldly in a murmur. He shook his head as he pushed passed her... this was all too much for him in his drunken state.

"I know I shall never wish to let you go if I do," he answered back, somewhat disorientated as he paced up and down the small room. "Do not tempt me so..."

"Then don't." She whispered simply. Her heart had taken over her head... it had overthrown every rational thought and objection the astute Elizabeth Bennet had ever conjured.

"I shall never be to you what he is!" He suddenly shouted in distress and agitation, throwing up his hands as it all (every day since their first meeting) finally escaped from him. "You shall never keep a picture of mine against your heart and kiss it with affection...!" Elizabeth adamantly and urgently shook her head as she turned to face him, still upon the ground. You mean more to me then anyone possibly can! How can you be so blind to not see that I feel nothing for him?

"You are quite wrong, your picture is inside my heart." She said genuinely, as her voice trembled with ardour, her hands clenching into fists over her chest. She watched his disposition - he was not convinced. He continued to shake that stubborn and intoxicated head of his whilst running a hand bewilderedly through his curls. She would not have usually acted so, but the desperate situation provoked her. Elizabeth rose slowly to gaze outside the window and observed a large crackling bonfire. Before she knew she did it, she ran.

"Elizabeth, come back!" He cried out in concern, and then proceeded by promptly following hastily after her. God knows what kind of men hang about just looking for a lone girl... I could not bear for her to put her in danger purely for my condescending behaviour...

Finally reaching at a halt, the gentleman found her standing outside, and beside the bonfire. He stopped as his face betrayed both his inquisitiveness and colossal apprehension for her security.

"Do you refuse to believe, O proud Mr Darcy?" She suddenly cried quite melodramatically as she stood at the foot of the great blaze. Darcy looked about himself; it was becoming a spectacle as people looked away from their chores and gazed upon the two. In agitation, he continued as he stepped towards her.

"Elizabeth, I beg of you, please step away... you will hurt yourself..." He whispered, absolutely terrified for her. What will she do? Don't just stand there, Darcy...! Stop her...

Instead of following his spoken request, Elizabeth, whom still held the picture of Wickham within her hand, held it against the fire as her eyes never moved from the gentleman's own shaken ones. She allowed the flames to burn, distort and melt George Wickham's face until the sparks reached her own fingertips and she retracted her hand in pain, dropping the remains of the picture upon the floor.

Darcy ran to her injured hands immediately, holding them in his own and lifting her scalded fingertips to his mouth.

"O God, what have you done to me?" He murmured into her fingers.

"Not nearly as much as you have inflicted upon me," she whispered gently as he continued to clutch at her hands and kiss them softly. His eyes were shut tightly as her hand roamed over his features tenderly. "You cannot know how much I love you, Sir." He opened his eyes slowly and he shook his head slightly... suddenly giving the appearance of sobering considerably.

"This is not right, Elizabeth..."

"Why must you always think of propriety?" She gently (and quite uncharacteristically) spoke, as she did not discontinue. "Can not you just hold me?" Her fingers traced over his jaw line and Darcy acknowledged that he had to impede their decadent actions.

"Elizabeth, get back inside."

"Are you ordering me?" She blinked slightly.

"Just go," He could hardly speak as he croaked... how could he halt such a wonderful feeling? Something he had waited for since before he could bear in mind...?

"I will go when you have declared you love me back." She spoke stubbornly. His grabbing her wrists suddenly produced a short yelp from the lady and her eyes burned with unfallen tears.

"Elizabeth; Go." he whispered roughly as Elizabeth froze. It was then she realised it was all wrong. Ever since her father's illness, she had behaved indecently. Running off to Bath... travelling with a man she barely knew and blackmailing him to pay her? And lastly, forcing herself upon him? What had she become? With a single tear falling to her cheek, she turned and ran back to the inn.

Chapter 17

Posted on Friday, 30 November 2001, at 3:20 p.m.

He did not know how long he had spent outside as he observed the bonfire burn whilst sitting upon the floor. Perhaps it had been an hour, or merely a few minutes... Fitzwilliam Darcy had lost all track of time. A great deal had come to pass so unexpectedly that it had altered most everything. Well, perhaps not suddenly, Darce. You have been in love with this woman for quite a time now. Therefore, what was wrong with him? She returned his feelings with as much fervour as he had ever desired... Though why had respectability and decency ceased him from embracing and loving the only woman he adored? Why was he remaining the diffident young man he forever was? Just feelings her hands upon his face had stirred feelings within him he had never experienced... and he suddenly discovered that it frightened him. He had never been so infatuated and obsessed with another human being and could not allow himself to indulge in gratification that went beyond any natural desire. Just remembering the look in her eyes and the genuine love she was openly displaying in them... it even now induced his entire body to tingle. But they were not even known as courting; how could he honestly and respectfully attempt to gain her love from so abrupt and unsanctioned a situation? And how would the whole affair seem to others? The master of the grand estate of Pemberley marrying a country girl whom he had encountered upon the streets at night, and whom was quite alone? But do I care what people say of the matter? People shall constantly gossip, and I now find I am not bothered what they may say. My reputation and name may be important components in my life, but Elizabeth is my life. He sat there in bewilderment, hurling the many conflicting ideas about in his head and ending to find it all one-sided. These last few days with her had been more than agreeable and Darcy almost selfishly thanked the highwaymen for seizing his coach... what if they had not? His carriage would have continued farther up the lane and Elizabeth would perhaps have had occasion to walk passed it - would she have even give a second thought to its occupants? Would he have even noticed her in the night...? Conjuring an accurate image of her face in his mind, Darcy smiled slightly. How could I have not taken notice of her...? Turning back slightly, he gazed upon the inn again. It was late and all its occupants had been ushered into their beds... he seemed to be the only guest awake. With a sigh, he finally resolved on his actions. Subsequent to much consideration and contemplation, the gentleman finally discerned what had to be done. He would ask her to marry him. He would propose an offer of marriage to Elizabeth Bennet. He was now in no situation to doubt her own feelings... but what if she refused him from his prior behaviour towards her? He usually would have hesitated such a rash act; would have met her parents and relatives and then decided if the match were a sensible one... but he now realised how little he cared of all that. Having Elizabeth by his side would more than please him... it would complete him. He could now not imagine a time he did not need her beside him, and wished her to begin as soon as was possible - and he would not have a slight upon her name merely because it was not 'official'. He would ask her to be his fiancé. But what of her father? I must have his permission... Darcy suddenly stopped once he contemplated over that particular gentleman. Elizabeth still has not trusted you enough to tell you of her father's plight... how can she even wish to marry you if she cannot place her faith in you? Still somewhat intoxicated, Darcy thought this matter over as he attempted to stand and stumbled towards the inn. Once ascending in the same clumsy fashion up the stairs, he silently stood outside the closed door to their room. Suddenly doubting and fearing his next actions, Darcy exhaled rapidly as tried to seek out hidden confidence and inner valour. Her refusal scared him beyond mortal words could describe. Closing his eyes, he recalled her words, her declaration... she was even upon her knees - or did he imagine that? Curse this whisky! Finally entering the room with a nervous short breath, Darcy felt his mouth go dry once Elizabeth's sniffs and sobs were heard. Oh, God... how am I to do this when I have upset her...? With a light anxious cough, Darcy examined her. She was lying with her face down upon the bed, and her body trembled with her heavy sobs, which were somewhat muted with the aid her pillow. He began to play with the ring upon his little finger as he nervously contemplated again what he would say. Once he finally found enough courage to speak, he could only do so in a stuttering tone.

"Elizabeth, I-I need to speak to you. Just permit me the opportunity to raise a subject with you and you do not have to answer right away... but I will go mad if I do not ask it..." Her stifled sob was the only encouragement he received and with more apprehension, he began the premeditated speech he wished would emerge in the mode in which he desired. With a large sigh, he quite said it all.

"In vain I have struggled, Elizabeth, but it shall not do. Propriety will not overshadow my feeling for you ever again. You must permit me to inform you how fervently I esteem and adore you. You must now know that your relations and title insinuate nothing to me... I accept them unequivocally - for it is you I will forever love and devote myself to... if you shall let me. I beg of you to consent to be my wife. Elizabeth, please relieve my suffering and say you shall accept me." She still said not a word, but merely stifled sobs and murmured against her pillow. Darcy grimaced as he felt another tug at his heart. You are a monster, Darcy. You are the one whom has initiated her tears...

"Elizabeth, please answer me," he begged as he sat upon the foot of the bed. "I cannot bear that I have caused you such pain..." After several more silent minutes, Darcy decided he needed desperately to hold her. "Elizabeth...?" He said once again as he moved to sit beside her. Realisation suddenly trickled over his features as he gazed upon her tear-streaked face. Though the lady was crying softly, she was quite fast asleep. And despite the fact that it was her turn to sleep upon the floor and the second fact that he dearly wished to wake her to repeat his proposal, he did not. He could not bear to wake her. Bowing down, he softly grazed her moist cheek with a gentle kiss, and whispered tenderly into it.

"In the morning, dearest. I shall ask again in the morning."

***

Darcy awoke the next morning with quite the worst headache in the world. Oh God... I shall never drink again... Holding his temple and grumbling a curse almost inaudibly under his breath, the gentleman attempted to stand on his aching and unstable legs. His mouth tasted sour and his eyes blurred until they cleared but a few minutes later. Once his mind focused and he began to remember the occurrences of the night before, Darcy stopped. Then the gentleman followed immediately by spinning towards the bed... it was empty. Falling upon it, he knew it was quite useless looking for Elizabeth - she had gone. An envelope was sitting upon her pillow. Tearing it open in desperation, Darcy scanned urgently upon her words.

Mr Darcy,

All I can truly do is apologise for my behaviour - it was both indecent and foolish. I am heartily repentant that I forced myself upon you and only beg that you can forgive the sentiments and feelings, which, last night, seemed so disgusting to you. I only hope that you can forget all that transpired between us. I will end this by sharing the estimation that I shall never forget you, Sir, and believe I probably never will...! And for this I am sorry again. I hope this letter will end our situation with one another on friendly terms.

Yours, Elizabeth Bennet.

P.S. Please do not believe I have deserted you with nothing. The article upon the dresser should prove to be admirable help.

Quite stunned, he turned to the dresser and slowly picked up the money resting upon it. Counting it, he found exactly a thousand pounds. Darcy did not need to read the communication again. Grabbing his few possessions, he ran as hastily as he could out the door.

Chapter 18

Elizabeth vigorously swiped another tear from her eye as soon as it made contact upon her cheek. It was immaterial how often she had scolded herself to not weep, for she could not refrain from the act occurring. Closing her swollen eyes, she leaned her head back upon the upholstered back of the carriage as she considered her secret and silent departure. She had crept gently about the room as she placed the money upon the table and the letter upon the pillow, and lastly, as she stood over Darcy. She watched him sleep comfortably on the floor for longer than she genuinely proposed to, but she wished to savour in every feature before she turned away and never observed it again. Bending her knees slightly, Elizabeth leaned down close to him as she heard his breath and could still smell the faint hint of alcohol. The next she had done provoked her to colour even now and Elizabeth nevertheless could not entirely believe she had done it. She kissed him softly upon the forehead; almost in the way a mother would a child. However, her love for him was more passionate, more zealous... and unlike the other relationship, unrequited. Remaining with her lips upon his forehead for a minute, he stirred slightly and she quickly retreated in fear of being caught and shock of her behaviour. Taken her bags, she took one last look at Fitzwilliam, then headed out the door sadly. A voice within her advised the lady to stay... reproached her for leaving without as much as a farewell - but how could she? Should she honestly stay for him to rouse and laugh at her behaviour from the previous night? Call her a fool for declaring such feelings towards him? And anyway, did she ever truly love him...? Did the momentum carry her away... make her lose herself and control of her mind? Pondering back upon the subject, Elizabeth also could not believe she fell upon her knees and professed her love... why could she suddenly not control herself when in his company...? Just thinking of it made her blush feverishly with embarrassment. What did Mr Darcy think of her...? Well, her only comfort was that the gentleman was quite drunk and perhaps did not even recall what had happened! However, Elizabeth did know it to be love; there was no question or doubt and it wounded her to admit it. The only man she could ever marry did not want her.

She suddenly felt the carriage halt and the driver's voice in her ears.

"We've arrived, Miss Bennet." With a hasty nod, she broke from her painful reverie and stepped gingerly out the coach, into an area and address she was none to comfortable being in. The coach driver granted her with a small-concerned smile and she was suddenly grateful that he was at hand. Why am I apprehensive? I have never believed myself in danger before this... That is because I was with Fitzwilliam. Looking up at a nearby window, she saw a rustling of curtains and hoped that George expected her. But a few seconds later the door opened and George Wickham appeared with a smile upon his face. He still looked uncommonly fine, though a little informally attired and scruffily dressed but Elizabeth felt not even a flutter of her heart. Perhaps that was due to the fact she no longer owned it...

"Elizabeth," He breathed in some relief. "I was afraid you would not come." Holding out her hand sadly, he took it eagerly and planted a demure kiss. Still nothing stirred within her.

"Have you acquired Dr Phelps, Mr Wickham?" She asked urgently. Her unwanted feelings had already wasted her father much time and she was now to be efficient and as quick as one could possibly be. Mr Bennet would be, and should have always been, the only man upon her mind. With a small laugh, Wickham spoke.

"Well, Elizabeth. You do not waste time at all! He is in my room." Elizabeth stepped back slightly with a curious expression of some amusement.

"That seems somewhat convenient," she said with a weak smile. He gave a chuckle again.

"Yes, it is. Do you have the money?" Taking it out slightly over the rim of her bag, she did not notice the gentleman's eyes suddenly widen and light with desire. Composing himself slightly, he stepped aside as he motioned for Elizabeth to step forward. Her coach driver narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion as his lady walked through the dark entrance and as George Wickham graced him with an enigmatic smile before entering himself. Getting back into his carriage, the driver sighed. Elizabeth Bennet no longer needed his services but he doubted she would be safe with that gentleman. Biting his lower lip, he reluctantly whipped at his horse and turned back to the main route.

Allowing himself to lead her way, Wickham knotted an eyebrow as he examined the preoccupied look upon her troubled face. What had she reason to be so distracted by...? And her eyes were red and swollen obviously from previous but recent crying. Nonetheless, he did not mention any of these two particulars and opened the door to his room. Elizabeth, still not really paying any due attention to her surroundings, aggrieved herself further... Why does he not just leave my mind...?! He has taken everything else of mine with him... can not he allow me retain my sanity? With a slam of the door, she again jumped from her thoughts to the present-day and opened her mouth to cordially acquaint with the Dr... but he was not in attendance. Turning to Wickham with a look of pure confusion, Elizabeth halted. He was holding a pistol in one hand and was pointing directly at her person.

"Give me the money, Elizabeth," He whispered hoarsely. "I do not wish to fire this, but I shall if a reason surfaces." The lady honestly could not speak. This could not be occurring... George attempting to take her money...? Robbing her and gaining her money by using false pretences...?

"George, I-" Slumping his shoulders slightly, he sighed and ran his hand shakily through his unwashed hair.

"I did not wish to do this; believe me, Miss Bennet, but I am desperate. Merely give me the money and I will let you go." Wickham did not even look very confident with the pistol.

"But what of Dr Phelps...?" She could not understand it. Mr Wickham was a good man... was he not?

"There is no Dr Phelps. Well... there is, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman." She was frozen upon the spot.

"You... you lied to lure me here for money?" She stammered in incredulous discovery. She then thought it all over. This entire trip was for nothing. She had lost all her own money and broken her heart when she could have simply remained by her father's side... which was all she ever truly desired. She shook her head in anger as denial gave way. "My father is critically ill... I merely left his side to obtain the assistance you assured me you would provide...! I cannot believe you-"

"I am truly repentant about your father, Miss Bennet," He cut in before the lady could finish. "I liked him. But I am..."

"Yes, I heard! You are desperate, sir...!" She cried. Did she even care what he would do to her? She suddenly had no feeling of anything at all. "Are you more desperate then my dying father? Are you lying on your death bed?"

"I do not want to argue, Elizabeth." he said harsher but in a softer tone. "Give me the money." He was deathly serious, and she was too tired of everything to attempt to run or fight... it would do her no good. Numbly reaching within the depths of her bag to impart with the money, the lady suddenly felt her own pistol beneath her fingers. It is your only chance, Lizzie. Without the money, you have nowhere to go... Pulling it out swiftly, she aimed it upon him, which triggered George Wickham to raise an eyebrow. "That is not wise." He stated simply. The two stared upon one another and their opponent's weapons both charily and cautiously. Before she knew it, George had grabbed at her pistol and the two struggled to pull it for themselves. And though George may have been a charlatan, he was greatly remorseful once he had struck her upon the face; causing her to fall to the ground and release the revolver. Making quick apologies, he took the bag, removed the money, dropped the bag by her feet and exited the place immediately. Elizabeth did not run after him, hurl verbal abuse upon the gentleman or call for the authorities. She merely sat upon the floor of the empty room by herself, knowing with no food and money that she wouldbe unable to reach home. And if by any small miracle she did return home, her father would most probably be dead. With this last depressing thought, she softly began to sob once again.

Chapter 19

Once Darcy had reached the outside of the inn, he paused. Where exactly was he to go? He had conversed with the innkeeper and that gentleman knew not of Elizabeth's destination or current whereabouts. Looking back upon the desolate and dead remains of the bonfire ahead, Darcy sighed. That night seemed almost years ago. Examining the scene, he found the object he had been intrigued by quite throughout the duration of the trip; Elizabeth's picture. She had burnt GW for you, Darcy. But all you did was reject her... Holding his temples with his thumb and forefinger, Darcy groaned - he had gone about the whole circumstance so defectively. Why did I drink that night? Turning the burnt remains of the picture over with much curiosity, Darcy realised it was never meant to be. All that was currently left of GW were his shoulders.

"Have you decided where you would like to go, Sir?" His driver inquired once again. Darcy had almost forgotten of his presence as he shook his head desperately... where could he go to search for her? It seemed ultimately impossible that he would ever find her again; he had never wished in his entire life to cry then at that very moment. You have lost her, man. "Sir?" The driver asked again, though softly and cautiously as he perceived Darcy's present state of mind. Clenching his fist with the picture remaining in his palm, Darcy turned to the carriage.

"47 Richmond Street," he said determinably as he entered, and the driver nodded as he swiftly climbed to his seat. Where else can I go but to Bingley's? From there I shall decide what is next to be done. I shall get provisions, money, hire detectives... I will not lose her. I do not care how far she may wish to run from me but I shall follow every step of the way... and I will find her. God help me if I do not, for I shall never stop trying.

***

Saying that Charles Bingley was happy to see his friend was the understatement of the century. He was not even delighted... he was quite ecstatic to see Fitzwilliam Darcy once again. However, when his dishevelled looking friend did arrive, he was up the stairs and his sister Caroline (most kindly!) welcomed him friendlily in. Darcy hardly recognised the lady when he gazed upon her. She was so... orange. And feathered. Almost like a parrot. Surely, this could not be the innocent Caroline Bingley he had once had designs on as a younger man?

"Mr Darcy!" She gushed with quite the widest smile that ever was seen. With a small civil smile, Darcy attempted to be the gracious guest though was far from in the mood to act the part.

"Miss Bingley, how good it is to see you again." Though I would much rather see your brother at present. With a quite forced laugh, she took his arm and Darcy was slightly taken aback by her forwardness - after all, it had been years since their last meeting. She looked upon him with expectant eyes.

"It has been a while for us, has it not?" She asked with a smile as she drew closer. Darcy leaned further away but could not exactly extract his arm from her own entwined one without seeming rude. As they walked slightly away from the entrance, he coughed lightly.

"Err... yes." Please unhand me now... She continued her laughter and the gentleman was most relieved once he heard a familiar holler.

"Darcy! What a wonderful surprise!" Bingley's voice suddenly cried out in that merry way of his. Darcy followed its sound to the stairs as Bingley excitedly hurried down them. "Caroline said you would be coming. How have you been, old man?" Happily having reason to slither out of the lady's grasp, Darcy was honestly glad to see his friend as they exchanged pats on the back.

"Bingley, you look positively elated," Darcy smiled wryly, though with some envy as well. The younger man shrugged, though could not seem to shake that silly grin from his face. Darcy could hear Caroline produce a disapproving snort-type noise from behind him.

"I merely look the way a man does once just coming back from his honeymoon," He said shrugging, though with a slight gleam in his blue eyes. God, do not even torture yourself by thinking of a honeymoon with Elizabeth... Caroline rolled her eyes sharply as she stared upon her brother.

"Dear God, Charles. Crudity truly does not become you. And what a discourteous host! You have not even asked Mr Darcy to sit...!"

"Why do you not ready the refreshments, Caroline?" Her brother said with an unwavering smile. "I shall show Darcy into the drawing room." Caroline did not look pleased with this, but did not wish to seem like the unmannerly hostess. With another bat of her eyes at their guest, she hurried out to find cook. Bingley looked upon Darcy with a knowing smile, as Darcy returned it with still a sad look in his eye.

"I heard of your marriage, Bingley," he said simply with a weak smile.

"From Caroline no doubt," Bingley sighed into a laugh. "I do love my sister, but I warn you not to believe a word of it!"

"A word of what?" Bingley smiled at Darcy's answer. Though he was sometimes too amiable, he was not stupid.

"I would like you to meet my wife, yourself. This is my Jane." Darcy turned to staircase once again to observe the beautiful woman descending down them. Shyly smiling at him, she extended her arm and Darcy politely kissed her hand. She turned her eyes to her husband, to slip her arm on the crook of his own, then to Darcy again.

"We are both very glad to have you here, Sir," She spoke genuinely in her soft voice, and Darcy could immediately perceive from her adoring gaze that she was in love with his friend... and seemed amiable enough. Why had Caroline written about her in such a way though...?

"And that we are," Bingley agreed, though staring lovingly and proudly at his wife. Managing to extract his lovesick eyes, he turned back. "Come Darcy. What will it be? Salmon, like you used to favour? Then, I shall tell cook immediately! It is not everyday my dearest friend comes to call..."

"Bingley, thank you for the offer but I cannot stay long," Darcy urgently interrupted. Pausing slightly he looked upon Jane. Perhaps his subject was not the best to speak in the presence of the lady. "I would - I mean, I err... Can I speak to you in private?"

"Of course..." Bingley looked suddenly apprehensive and with a nod, turned to Jane. "Excuse me, dearest." Jane returned the nod in understanding, though her blue eyes were full of natural concern. She seemed the kind type of woman whom suited Bingley perfectly in both temperament and character... and Darcy suddenly was sure that although he had been but a minute in her company, his conclusion would not need to be altered.

Once the two friends withdrew into a nearby room, which looked quite like an office, Bingley spoke immediately. "What is it, Darce?" Too much to explain, dear friend...

"I need money, Bingley. Money, detectives..."

"Dear Lord, Darcy. Are you in trouble with the law?" Bingley suddenly cried. Darcy produced a small laugh.

"No, nothing of that sort. I-I am in love." Bingley stopped as the words seeded into his head. However, once he had allowed the information inside, his face broke into a giant grin.

"Good God! Congratulations, old man...! But I now must now demand you explain yourself." Darcy sighed as Bingley offered a drink and he quite eagerly took it, though vowing never to touch intoxicated liquors ever again. Sitting down, Darcy recalled the whole of the story, from his first meeting with Elizabeth to their separation. Bingley was truly moved. Here sat his reserved and timid best friend, whom was willing to risk everything for a woman... and Bingley knew exactly what that extent of love was like, for he possessed it himself.

"I will provide you with anything you wish," Charles said in firm support. "You can count on me, Darce."

"Thank you... but I must act quickly Bingley..." Darcy spoke urgently, standing again in anxiety. "I do not know if I can catch her." Bingley stood and placed a comforting hand upon an agitated Darcy's shoulder.

"Calm yourself, Darce. What is her name?"

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Bennet." Charles opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. His mouth twitched in amusement though his eyes looked befuddled.

"You are teasing me," Bingley said simply. How could I lie about this, Bingley?

"What... what are you talking of?" Darcy beseeched in utter unawareness... then it suddenly hit him. His mouth was dry and voice again spluttered as he spoke. "My God, Bingley. Do you know her...?!" Bingley, still looking quite confused, nodded.

"Well... yes, if she is the Elizabeth Bennet I am thinking of. She..."

"Yes?" Darcy asked desperately, clasping his friend's shoulders. Bingley had not seen Darcy in such a state as this in all their years as friends and was almost afraid to speak.

"She... she is Jane's younger sister."

Chapter 20

Posted on Wednesday, 5 December 2001, at 1:47 p.m.

Darcy could not speak for a full minute once Bingley's words registered within his head. And when he finally could, he shook his head slowly in denial.

"You are now teasing me, Bingley."

"I promise I do not," Bingley spoke seriously. "And I would not on such a subject, Darcy! I met the Bennet family in Hertfordshire, where Jane Bennet was their eldest daughter." Did Elizabeth ever mention a Jane...? Is Jane's sister my love? Could the fates look so kindly upon me to let it be...? His brain went wild with random questions that all spoke the same hopeful fantasy; would he ever find Elizabeth again?

"Well... is it the same Elizabeth Bennet? How do we know for certain...?" He asked desperately, attempting not to fill himself with false hope... though his hands sweated with eagerness. Bingley stalked about the room until he gestured to a wedding portrait situated over his desk. Darcy had not even noticed its grandeur and size, for he was so distracted by his own problems but now observing it, felt his heart stop. In the foreground of the picture stood Bingley and Jane smiling happily in their wedding clothes; situated at the back of the picture were six women. Three of the women he did not recognise. One he distinguished was Caroline. Another was Louisa Hurst, Bingley's other sister. And just beside and behind Jane, in a white gown and smiling beautifully at him, stood Elizabeth Bennet. His Elizabeth Bennet. The look he graced upon Bingley when he tore his eyes from the picture left Charles in no doubt. He sent for Jane instantly.

The lady could scarce believe when Darcy told her of the tale, for it did not sound at all like Lizzie to run away from home. Shaking her head, she stressed her opinions.

"I am not doubting your word, Sir. But Lizzie would never act in such a way unless in some kind of an..."

"Emergency?" He finished quietly.

"Are you in knowledge of something, Mr Darcy?" she asked softly, and her husband clasped her hand in support. With a sigh, Darcy looked down at his lap.

"There was one occasion when your sister grew very distressed about your father, Mrs Bingley." Pausing, he was not sure if he should continue, but her expectant and worried face encouraged the gentleman to lay all the facts before her. "She... she spoke somewhat on the subject of his death being imminent." Jane did not speak but her eyes suddenly filled with tears, causing Darcy serious regret.

"Papa... papa's life is in danger?" She managed to whisper as Bingley held her tightly with his arm... his own face betraying his melancholy. Darcy shrugged faintly as he gave her a feeble smile.

"I do not know, Mrs Bingley. All I truly know is that I need to find Elizabeth."

"I-I do not know where she is," She said unhappily as she wiped her tears away with her handkerchief.

"Do you have any relatives in Bath?" Darcy gently prompted, though the desperation in his eye was unmistakeable. Jane looked suddenly tired as she thought over the question.

"Not that I know of, no." Suddenly, an idea struck the gentleman. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the picture of GW and handed it to a curious, though still recovering, Jane Bingley.

"Mrs Bingley..." He began, but the lady cut him short.

"Jane." Returning the smile, Darcy continued.

"Jane, do you know whom this is?" Jane's eyebrows knotted as she eyed the picture, but she did not look surprised or shocked by it... she seemed to recognise it immediately.

"That is the picture Mr Wickham had especially painted for Lizzie." That is the moment Darcy froze. Had he heard correctly? It could not be... GW could not be George Wickham...?

"Wickham?" Darcy just managed to whisper hoarsely. Jane nodded, and slowly spoke as she noticed the gentleman's changing countenance.

"Yes, George Wickham. Mr Darcy, are you quite well? Is something the matter?" Darcy swallowed down the bile rising up in his throat as his head suddenly spun.

"Do you have an address for him?" He asked, still in incredulous shock. He seemed to be in a daze... after all, it could not be real. George Wickham imposing himself on the two women Darcy cared about most in world, without his even knowing it!?

"Lizzie used to write to one," Jane said, with sudden hope in her eyes. "I think I have it written, since Lizzie was terrible with remembering addresses." Standing up, Jane Bennet Bingley's face looked suddenly determined. "Please wait here. I shall retrieve it immediately."

***

Though both Jane and her husband had wished to join the gentleman on his visit to Mr Wickham's address, Darcy advised against it and Bingley refused to let his wife go in any case, due to the upset state she was already in. Reaching the neighbourhood in one of Bingley's many carriages (for he had several), Darcy glanced upon the paper the address was scrawled upon yet again to confirm it was indeed the correct area. It was. Cautiously, he knocked upon the door, with a footman behind him in case of any danger. After several of minutes of waiting and Darcy losing his patience by eventually banging it with his fist, they agreed unanimously to beat down the door; and in a matter of seconds the job was done. Hastening up the stairs, the gentleman pushed open the door of the first room in his sight and fell to his knees in the utmost thanks, relief and pure joy. Elizabeth Bennet was curled up upon the ground, fast asleep and, once again, crying softly in her slumber. Wiping a tear lovingly from her face, he gently stirred her into consciousness.

"Elizabeth?" he whispered softly, so not to startle her. "Dearest...?" With a flutter of her welled eyes, the lady awoke then took a deep intake of breath at her discovery... Fitzwilliam Darcy staring tenderly towards her.

"I-I am dreaming..." She said in disorientation, as she shook her head faintly in denial. Dizzily, she lifted herself up and touched his face... it could not be real. She knew very well that he could not be there.

"Did George hurt you?" he demanded softly, as he allowed her fingers to explore his features. He did not believe he ever would withdraw from her again. Groggily, the lady spoke.

"You... you know Mr Wickham?"

"He worked at my home. He was the son of my father's steward..." Clarification and pure consciousness soon surfaced from the lady, for she removed her hand in embarrassment, coloured and blinked somewhat at her breakthrough.

"It was you whom denied him his living...?"

"It did not happen that way, Elizabeth," He choked as he thought of all the lies George had said to discredit him to her. She suddenly shook her head and a tear fell upon her cheek.

"He promised to get me a Dr.... This entire trip has been useless! I could have been beside father but instead..." Darcy shook his head ardently as he cupped the side of her face warmly with one hand. He no longer cared of propreity, and began to speak with genuine ardour.

"This trip has been beyond wonderful for me, Elizabeth. It has been the greatest experience of my life because it enabled me to meet and fall in love with you." Elizabeth pulled away and the gentleman suddenly felt his heart ache with her rejection. Now you know how it is, Darcy...

"Now you are teasing me." She whimpered as her eyes filled again with tears. He was almost fearful of grasping her hand because he knew of feelings it would stir wihtin him, but nevertheless he did so and moved closer to her and Elizabeth just could not tear herself to move away.

"I am not. I declared my love for you but you had fallen a sleep..." He attempted to explain.

"I cried for you until I exhausted myself," She clarified bitterly, and grimaced as she thought of the business all over again. Standing up, the gentleman pulled her up gently and easily with him.

"Come with me, Elizabeth," He spoke softly, still holding her hand though now against his chest.

"Where?" She whispered, though did she truly care? She supposed not.

"I am taking you to your sister's."

"...You know my sister?"

"It is a lengthily story," he said smiling, and for the first time in what seemed like years, the lady returned it contentedly. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it delicately and did not notice Elizabeth shiver as he continued. "I shall tell you on the road."

Chapter 21

Despite the fact that both Jane and Mr Bingley had stressed for Elizabeth to remain in bed, nevertheless the spirited young lady soon grew impatient and tiresome confined in one place. The room may have been exquisite and quite uncommonly fine, but the four walls and ceiling always remained so; no matter how often one stared upon them, they refused to change or at least entertain. Moreover, the lady was not an invalid, and could not bear to be treated so when it included such boredom! Finally deciding enough was enough, Elizabeth snuck out of the bed to sit at the dresser and examine herself in the looking glass. Yes; her cheek even now stung from Mr Wickham's reluctant strike and she did hope it would not become redder as to reveal itself to Mr Darcy. With a sigh, she decided that merely applying rouge to the other cheek would solve that problem admirably... and hopefully. For the first moment in two hours, she was left alone. Jane had stayed by her side constantly and asked of all that had transpired at Longbourn during her honeymoon... and Elizabeth indeed needed two hours to enlighten it all. They had hugged and sobbed together at the thought of their Papa's illness and Elizabeth's accurate description of it. Then, on a lighter note, Jane beseeched of her sister to speak of her trip and growing relationship with Mr Darcy, whom Jane herself described as 'an admirable and good man'. Elizabeth could not deny he was, and could not refute her love for him either. She told Jane of her disastrous profession of love and their constant arguments throughout the duration of the journey. She also told her sister of the times when she thought of Fitzwilliam Darcy as an arrogant and proud young man (which Jane would have refused to admit to even if she had witnessed it!), but soon discovered it to be terrible reserve and timidity. She told Jane of it all, and begged her sister for them all to go to Longbourn as soon as was possible... and that was when Jane had temporarily left the room. In her sister's absence, Elizabeth contemplated the events at Wickham's address. Mr Darcy loved her. He truly did. His eyes could not betray otherwise and Elizabeth had never been so contented in all her life, especially when after such a disagreeable event!

But why did I shudder at his kiss? It is almost as though it is too much to be borne! To be kissed on the hand and feel so...? What if had kissed me upon the lips?

Elizabeth blushed feverishly as she scolded herself for thinking so perversely, but could not help but sigh happily at the contemplation of it. Hugging herself slightly, she closed her eyes and sighed with fulfilment.

The only man I have ever wanted indeed does want me back...

A smile played upon her lips until a thought occurred, and it froze upon her face. Snapping her eyes open, Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror. He said love, but he did not speak of marriage. She had not even thought of this circumstance. He may have loved her, but did he believe her worthy enough to take for a bride - especially with his connections and her own? She suddenly felt dizzy as the conflicting sides of the argument fought within her head.

Why would he want to bring you into his grand family when you are practically nothing in society?

But he is friends with Charles... surely if Mr Bingley sees no objection in marrying Jane then Fitzwilliam can see no difficulty in marrying me...

Do you think a man of his rank and station will hand it all away, be ridiculed and laughed at merely for you...?

But he loves me... Not even I can deny that when I look upon him. Why would he declare love without wishing for an inevitable marriage?

What else do you have to offer but your love...?

"Lizzie?" Elizabeth broke out of her mental debate as Jane looked with concern upon her. Elizabeth had not even heard her sister enter the room. "The carriage is being readied. Will you be prepared to depart soon?" Elizabeth embarrassingly removed her arms from about herself, though her sister failed to notice. With a swift and serious thought of her father, Elizabeth responded... feeling awful that she permitted her fancies get in the way of her regard and concern for him.

"The sooner we get to father, Jane, the better." Jane nodded in pure agreement; both young women were quite anxious and scared of their father's present condition. With a departing smile, Jane left her sister to get dressed and to continue arguing amongst herselves.

***

Elizabeth did not take too long at all to prepare herself for the dreadfully long trip to Longbourne and confidently attempted to look herself in the eye as she gazed hard upon her mirror. I have been strong enough throughout the duration of this voyage... why should you worry now, Lizzie? Seeing Fitzwilliam will hopefully dispel any doubts of his true affections in my head... Finally descending in some anxiety though more anticipation down the stairs, Elizabeth sighed inwardly. It seemed to be the definite end of her adventure. She was to return home. And though she sadly and tragically had failed providing a lifeline for her father, she seemed to find one for her own. Fitzwilliam Darcy seemed to make her feel whole... as clichéd as that seemed to sound! Elizabeth was never one for reading those whimsical romantic works which owned no realistic trait and had characters one could not honestly fall in love with... but at length the lady seemed to appreciate that powerful nature of love she in the past believed to be mere fiction. Once reaching the main entrance, she unconsciously scanned the room for the gentleman; her shoulders slumped in disappointment. He was not there, but his friend and her own sister were and greeted her kindly.

"Elizabeth! You are feeling quite well?" Bingley asked in genuine concern, as Jane stood by his side, smiling sweetly upon her younger sibling.

"Thank you, Charles. I truly believe I am," Elizabeth smiled, though could not help avert her eyes around the room. Where is he...? Though she knew it was not appropriate, Elizabeth had to inquire. Not seeing Fitzwilliam was actually driving her quite insane... she had to see him and discern his feelings.

"Err Charles, where is Mr Darcy?" She asked quite desperately. Bingley provided a shrug and easy expression.

"Well, he is gone, Elizabeth," He replied, quite sure she should have known. Jane soon afterward graced her husband with a look that suggested otherwise and Charles suddenly felt quite at fault as his sister-in-law spoke.

"Gone?" Elizabeth whispered in disbelief. How could it be? Would he have not have woken me to express his farewells? Noticing her pertubed expression, Bingley looked upon Jane in some distress, as she returned the look then both faced her sister. The gentleman nodded with a weak look darted back at his wife.

"Yes... he left for town quite early in the morning."

Chapter 22

Posted on Sunday, 9 December 2001, at 5:31 a.m.

Elizabeth awoke with a start as soon as her mind recollected back upon the memory of Bingley's words. Feeling quite disorientated, the lady touched at her groggy head gingerly as focus soon afterwards ensued. She before long discerned that she was indeed in her father's room and had unknowingly fallen into slumber whilst nursing him. The lady could hear her sister Jane downstairs tending to Mary, Kitty and Lydia whilst Charles, being the amiable gentleman he was, eagerly endeavoured to aid and assist his wife in any possible way. Lifting herself upon her weak legs, Elizabeth began to attempt exercising them as she paced about the room. Looking back upon the bed at Mr Bennet, she felt the space within her throat abruptly decrease. He looked so pale and lifeless and his usually sparkling eyes were hidden behind his chalky eyelids... how could she accept this to be her witty and loving father? He seemed a shadow of his former self, and Elizabeth again found her tears pricking irritatingly at her eyes. How could she deal with the loss of Mr Bennet? He was more than a father but a friend, a confidant and a fellow prankster. He was one of the few people whom understood Elizabeth perfectly. Seating herself back by his side, she clasped her hands around his own cold ones and gazed at him as she thought of all that was occurring around her. She thought back on the agonisingly long carriage ride back to Longbourn and the thoughts that dashed about and throughout her head. It may have been but a few days prior to the present but she honestly could not evoke it as such... merely a vague blur in her memory. All she truly did remember vividly was her brother-in-law informing her Mr Darcy was gone. Seven days had passed since she had last seen Fitzwilliam and she had spent the majority of those with her sleeping father; attempting to forget about her own troubles by tending to Mr Bennet's. Mrs Bennet seemed presently asleep, and Elizabeth pondered back upon her seeing her mother again in what seemed like an eternity. The young lady never did doubt her mother's affections for herself, but seeing Mrs Bennet burst into tears at the sight of her brought tears to Elizabeth's own eyes. She knew she may not have been her mother's favourite child, but knew she did indeed love her dearly. Mrs Bennet had scolded her energetically during sniffles and tight embraces and she also spoke of the dreadful things she imagined might have happened to her. After emotionally calming her mother (and herself!) moderately down, Elizabeth automatically went to her father, though in passing embracing her almost deathly quiet sisters. Merely hearing (or not, as the point is) the morbid silence about the house reminded Elizabeth why she had been almost eager to leave and search for help. The laughter and heated arguments of Kitty and Lydia and her mother scolding all around her for provoking her nerves to surface seemed almost like another family. It appeared as though it were another lifetime. Elizabeth again rubbed at her sore, red-rimmed eyes and almost dreaded to look in a looking glass, lest she saw what she wished not to and was convinced would stare her back. She did not cry, she promised herself she would not. She would not allow for her astute and fiery self to be reduced to tears. Her father was a good enough reason for her to release of all the pain within her, but the lady had openly declared that she would never cry for another man but he. She had always said she would not be played about in and out of love, as those awfully weak and feeble heroines in those romance novels Kitty insisted on reading. Of course, Kitty would hide them under her pillow lest Lydia caught sight of them and accused her of being as boring as Mary. Elizabeth smiled slightly as she imagined what her youngest sister's reaction would be, and then the lady realised that she had not actually smiled in days... had she forgotten how it was to be genuinely happy? It almost broke Jane's heart to see her sister so forlorn and so dissimilar to her usual self. Elizabeth looked of a sickly nature and her eyes and face had lost their charm and fresh beauty. Jane knew her sister was indeed struggling with so many problems and troubles that she could not even formulate a good attempt of being well, and she tried to assure her as best she could that Darcy would soon write. But what was a letter but paper and ink...? Elizabeth wished to see him, behold him and converse with him long enough to entertain the hope of her still securing his affections. After all, had town not many more distracting beauties? Goodness Lizzie, you are envious if he even speaks to another woman... Holding her aching head, Elizabeth groaned slightly as she pushed back her chair and stood once again. She could not stay in that room; it was wearing her down just looking upon her father. Placing a soft kiss on Mr Bennet's cool forehead, Elizabeth rubbed her swollen eyes and went in search for her other family members.

***

"I am worried about her, Charles," Jane Bingley said in soft sadness as she seated herself beside her loving husband. Charles Bingley, whom could not withstand seeing his wife in such turmoil, took her within his arms in comfort, which the lady was only more than happy to escape inside. A sudden knock on the door ended the snug, tender embrace and both parties reluctantly withdrew to allow Mrs Hill into the room. Handing the gentleman a letter, she curtsied and quickly exited... greatly noticing that the couple did not desire for her intrusion at the present moment.

"Whom is it from, dearest?" Jane asked in curiosity as Charles returned the quite baffled expression. Urging him to open the letter, she observed the apprehensive look upon her husband's face as he did, which unnerved her further. Skimming through it with his eyes, Bingley slowly spoke.

"It is from Darcy's sister, Georgiana from their townhouse in London..." He suddenly stopped and his eyes widened with some horror as he whispered under his breath. "Good God, Darce..."

"Charles, what has happened?" Jane asked with such desperation that it seemed somewhat out of her calm and rational character. When her husband would not reply, Jane Bingley had to gently extract the letter from him and her sister entered quite as soon as she did. Elizabeth's polite and civil smile halted and curiosity took over as she examined the pale look on her brother-in-law's face and the letter in Jane's hand.

"W-what has happened?" She asked in pure confusion. Jane could not answer without delay when the question was directed towards her, and still could not even when she had finally torn her eyes from the paper. How could she tell Lizzie when she already looked so distraught? How much further grief could her sister take before she broke down her imitation of a tough exterior? Jane, knowing not what words to say, sadly presented Elizabeth with the open letter and the latter lady was none too certain whether she wished to read the communication now that she'd inquired and acquired it. With a cautious sigh, she looked upon it and a few short sentences of reading later caused her head to shake emphatically.

"I refuse to believe it..." her voice trembled. "It is not true..."

"Georgiana sounds certain, Elizabeth," Bingley said somewhat cautiously, quietly and also gently.

"Dearest, it may not be serious," Jane added in reassurance, though her own shaky voice contradicted her words of comfort. "Miss Darcy is very protective and caring of her brother and perhaps it is not so very bad..." Elizabeth seemed to mute out both their words. Her head again began to ache as her confused eyes welled reluctantly and she inquired in soft bewilderment and disbelief to herself.

"He has been in an accident...?"

Chapter 23

Elizabeth fell to her knees as she found herself by the large oak tree on the outskirts of Longbourn Park. From the time since her childhood, the lady would sit upon the root of the colossal tree and lean back upon the comforting trunk when she needed to be alone with her thoughts or to seek refuge from her mother. On this particular occasion, she was torn between both comforts, though the latter was an escape from the entire situation rather than the highly excitable Mrs Bennet. Manoeuvring herself into her usual seating position, the lady raised her knees to her chin and nuzzled her damp face into the thin material of her muslin dress. Letting out a small exhale, she allowed the material and the cool breeze to both attempt to dry her tears and the warm sunshine to somehow manage to stop this incessant shivering, though Elizabeth knew it was not from the cold. She was scared. She was utterly terrified. She had a familiar feeling within her stomach when the family were first told of Mr Bennet's illness. She recalled how she thought she could not endure it if her father passed away, however she was now feeling it even more intensely for Fitzwilliam Darcy. But should not it have been different? She had known her father her entire life, and Darcy for but a week! It seemed preposterous and she felt absolutely awful - what sort of a daughter was she? To feel more for a man she barely was on familiar terms with than a father whom had cared and loved her since her birth? And though she believed she would live after her father's death... what would happen if Fitzwilliam died? How could she have actually prolonged living knowing that the only man she could ever love enough to marry was no longer...? Oh! What am I becoming? Wishing for cliché romantic fancies, such as holding his hand and feeling his arms about me? To wish his face to be the first I see in the morning and last before I retire for the night? Have I reduced myself to such a feeling...? Shaking her head, the tears fell upon her newly dried cheeks again and she burrowed her head even deeper into her knees. He could not be dead. He could not. She would not allow herself to believe it or even think of the matter. Besides, an accident did not automatically imply death or even pain... did it? Leaning her head back upon the tree trunk again, Elizabeth sniffed and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. I must stop crying. Now I see what attribute I have inherited from Mama. It is getting quite ridiculous! I will not be fit to be seen by anyone if I continue so... Glancing up at the setting sky for some distraction, the lady felt some solace. It looked so calming, peaceful and the merging dark magenta, orange and diamond-speckled heavens seemed to wash over her. Inhaling the clean cold scent of the autumn wind, Elizabeth reminded herself why she found such consolation in the outdoors. Sometimes the beauty of nature was breathtaking, though she had given up struggling to describe so to her younger sisters. Kitty and Lydia, at present, seemed more occupied with a handsome face as young girls oft were whilst Mary would find Fordyce's Sermons engaging enough to fulfil all her needs. And Jane, being the kind and delightful soul she was, found beauty in anything and everything. Allowing her tired eyes to close, Elizabeth basked in the splendour of the evening. Before she even knew of it, the lady was in a light slumber and was physically smiling with her dream. Within it, she was back at Longbourn...

Papa was his usual witty self; Mama was hounding dear brother Bingley on which fish dish was his ultimate favourite whilst Jane supportively smiled at him. Kitty and Lydia were combating concerning the newest gown in their quite joint collection and Mary was rolling her studious eyes as she attempted to practice upon the pianoforte. And Elizabeth had walked from the hectic household to the very spot she was now in, and eagerly approached closer still as she could discern a certain gentleman leaning against the oak, waiting patiently as he smiled softly at her. He had taken her hand into his and bowed slightly so to kiss it softly, refusing to remove his eyes from her as he looked up into her eyes intensely. But before his lips could make any contact with the back of her hand, his eyes suddenly darkened as he softly whispered.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth." Her own eyes had widened as she felt his hand loosen grip, saw him step backwards and then turn away. Elizabeth had tried to run after the gentleman, but he seemed to disappear with the breeze and she found herself clutching for the air.

"Fitzwilliam?" She had called in her dream. "Fitzwilliam...! You cannot leave me..."

"Fitzwilliam... please do not desert me..." She murmured, her eyes still closed and mind still engaged.

"Elizabeth...?" The lady felt a pair of hands gently shake her by her arms and she soon awoke slowly. As she blinked repeatedly, she could barely make out the figure staring at her in the night but she knew whom it was. And because she knew this, Elizabeth was convinced she must still have been dreaming. Wake up, Elizabeth. You cannot be awake... Before she could say another word, or even think another thought, she felt a powerful pair of arms enclose around her. She could feel the warmth of Fitzwilliam Darcy's body as she realised how cold she indeed was. His blazing cheek against her own icily numb one caused Elizabeth to close her eyes and not even resist to pull away.

"Elizabeth..." He whispered urgently into her hair, and she was almost frightened that she would cry upon his shoulder.

"You cannot be here..." she said somewhat dizzily, though rested her head even further into his shoulder.

"I am sorry I could not come sooner, dearest," he whispered soothingly as he stroked her hair with his free hand. She could feel the material of his cape against her arm. "I have been travelling chaotically to get here as rapidly as I could. And then when I thought I saw you under this tree..." She knew she should have pulled away and to have asked him to help her to her feet and escort her back into the house. But Elizabeth Bennet did neither of these things and continued to take pleasure in being in his arms when she had but a few minutes prior thought she would never see Fitzwilliam Darcy again. She had so much to ask, and still thought herself to be in a daze but did not want to wake if it indeed was one. Thoughts of her mother suddenly flooded her mind as she sighed against him... Propriety, Lizzie. Remember where you stand with a young gentleman...! You will never secure a husband if you do not flirt, girl! But, also remember not to throw your affections upon one forcefully, for then you shall not be the type of girl gentleman want to marry, but merely one whom they wish to pass scandalous time with...! As for the gentleman, his mind was more agreeably engaged. He held Elizabeth against him, breathing in her scent and knowing that he could not do without her. After all, he was not the sort of gentleman who gallivanted around romancing young ladies in the middle of the night... but he had lost all control to not take her into his arms after so long an absence. His impatience and passion for the lady had already taken over his head whilst she had stolen his heart. Darcy could not believe he had found someone he would willingly devastate his own proud reputation for... it was almost surreal! He pulled away from her slightly as he attempted to examine her face in the dark light, and brushed away a tear with his thumb. Have I truly ever seen her look so beautiful...?

I cannot believe he stumbled upon me when I look so swollen and red-faced! Elizabeth's eyes glittered as she smiled softly at him. But he is alive. Thank God, he is alive. Returning her small smile, he spoke softly as he took her hand.

"Why do you cry when you know I cannot endure it?" Brushing his lips upon her hand, the gentleman had forgotten every 'decorum' rule he was familiar with. To Elizabeth's utter delight, he did not disappear...!

"It is usually you that causes me to be so wearisome, Sir," She answered back, and for the first time in days, she playfully teased. For a while they were comfortably silent, then Elizabeth suddenly thought of the question that had plagued her for weeks. The sudden gravity of her voice did shock her companion considerably. "Fitzwilliam... do you, do you truly wish to marry me?" Recovering from his initial shock, Darcy touched her cheek lovingly.

"Elizabeth, I-"

"Darcy!" The couple froze. Bingley sudden voice caused both Elizabeth and Darcy to slowly look up from their crouching positions. Bingley and even Mrs Bennet(!) (whom was holding up the lantern she was previously holding by her side) were standing over them and were glaring at the two with shocked eyes. Retracting his hand, an embarrassed Darcy backed slightly away from an equally red-faced Elizabeth. With the sudden light, Elizabeth suddenly noticed the fresh bruises and cuts adorned upon his handsome face, and a look of concern immediately overtook her mortification. Bingley was quite stunned into silence, as Mrs Bennet seemed to push passed her son-in-law. Glaring down at Elizabeth, then disapprovingly at Darcy she spoke in angry animation.

"I do not mean to be rude, Sir... but who are you and what do you think you're doing with my daughter?!"

Chapter 24

Posted on Friday, 14 December 2001, at 7:12 p.m.

Darcy did not dare to look back at Elizabeth, purely in case he laughed. To think, but a few weeks ago he would have been horrified at being in such a circumstance... but he had quite contracted Elizabeth's humour! Looking up at Mrs Bennet, the gentleman found that all his previous speculations on how Elizabeth's mother would be were actually true...! With paper curlers within her hair, the light of the lantern making menacing shadows upon her face and a wide-eyed, quite animated look in her eye, Darcy believed she looked as terrifying as the mythological Medusa. However, he did not believe this conjecture was the most appropriate article to state at the present moment, especially considering the fact she seemed more than willing to turn him to stone. Speak carefully, Darcy. For all you know, she is astute and shrewd. After all, the lady is Elizabeth's mother...

"Madam, I-"

"Mama, he..." The couple looked at one another once they simultaneously spoke. Looking up at the other slowly, they could not help but smile. Once their eyes met, Mrs Bennet and Bingley were forgotten for but a minute and the latter, being the amiable and romantic gentleman he was, responded in their place.

"Mrs Bennet, this is my good friend Fitzwilliam..." Darcy winced, "...Darcy." She looked quite perplexedly at Bingley.

"A Friend...?" She said shortly in that high voice of hers, appearing not too persuaded. "You mean to tell me he is of no other connection but an acquaintance of yours, Mr Bingley?" Bingley nodded, and provided his mother-in-law with a gigantic smile, hoping it would aid in dispelling all her cynicism.

"Yes, he is from the north of England and owns the grand estate of Pemberley..."

"Bingley, I-"

"And, " Bingley continued, cutting his friend short and refusing to allow him to contribute. "He has ten thousand a year." Elizabeth could not help but wish to giggle at the situation... she should have been mortified but - Ah! It was all too amusing! How much did dear Bingley know of her mother? Mama would practically let Mr Darcy run off with the silverware if she knew he was so worthy...! Wait a minute, Elizabeth... what was the sum Charles announced...? Mrs Bennet shook her head quite emphatically as she fiddled with her skirts.

"Well that does not explain why he and Lizzie... how much, Sir?"

"Ten thousand, I believe Ma'am," He said, clearly accentuating every syllable. Mrs Bennet's head was not the only one to turn swiftly to the gentleman, for Elizabeth's followed directly. Ten thousand a year...! Good God, Lizzie! You knew he was rich but... Studying Darcy, Elizabeth once again took note of the wounds upon his face and she was once again reminded of her previous qualms. The lady desperately wished to know how he'd acquired them... who had done it? How had it happened? Darcy sensed her questioning and concerned looks and quite guiltily looked away as he wished he could conceal himself, from not just her but Mrs Bennet's suddenly gleaming and 'oh-too-hopeful' eyes. Darcy gradually recollected how he was with strangers and suddenly felt his timidity and wariness take over from his almost confident easiness.

"Mrs Bennet, you must allow me to apologise..."

"No, sir. It is I who must apologise," She exclaimed with a little laugh. Elizabeth cringed as she yearned for her mother not to make her desire for blue blood so palpable... but that was hardly likely with one as volatile as Mrs Bennet. "Your carriage startled us all, Sir! And when the occupying Mr Phelps declared he was not the owner, we went in search, Sir and..."

"Mr Phelps?" Elizabeth said in soft incredulity, cutting her mother short and causing Mrs Bennet to frown somewhat at being undermined in front of such a noble man. Elizabeth turned to Darcy with such affection upon her face that he could not refrain from grasping at her hand under his cloak, so unbeknownst to the others.

"Yes," he spoke gently and simply to her. "The distinguished physician whom Jane informed me you were in search of." She could not believe it. The man whom she had set out upon this journey to find... The only man she truly had desired to meet when she had first set off...

Shaking her head, she had to inquire further.

"B-but how did you ever...?"

"The gentleman of my rank usually acquires many an important and influential acquaintance," he whispered with mock arrogance. His eyes softened from their teasing slightly as he spoke in some gravity. "You should have told me of your father's illness, Elizabeth." Elizabeth could not answer at his serious glance. I could have saved such time... Mrs Bennet watched eagerly whilst happily formulating a marriage proposal within her matchmaking head - even the elder lady was not so flighty (do not get mistaken by my words, she is indeed very flighty!) to not see their terribly blatant regard for one another as Bingley once again broke another lengthily gaze.

"Talking of Mr Phelps, Darce, we have been most unsuitable hosts to have neglected him thus." Elizabeth turned to her brother and her eyes brightened with excitement at the idea of finally meeting the gentleman and presenting him immediately to Mr Bennet. Bingley helped the two onto their feet, and Elizabeth sheepishly wiped at her dress. The lady was lucky it was indeed quite dark, for Mrs Bennet would have had quite a fit if she'd witnessed the mud upon her daughter's gown!

Once upon their feet, Elizabeth became quite annoyed (and was she jealous?) once her mother enthusiastically took Mr Darcy's arm. When the gentleman turned back to face Elizabeth, both softly smiled shyly at the irony of it all. They walked back to the house as separated as two strangers walking behind one another on a street, nevertheless both greatly noticed the other, though did not appear to do so.

"Mr Darcy!" Elizabeth could heed her mother cry as the unlikely couple travelled ahead of herself and Bingley, whom merely smiled as he glanced from her to Mrs Bennet. How could he not find the situation funny? Darcy walked regally; tall and reserved (though slightly ridden with dirt) while the significantly shorter Mrs Bennet fluttered her hands about in some excitable fashion (even the one Darcy was in possession of) as she spoke to him on some matter. Elizabeth could hardly keep her straight-faced countenance as her mind attempted to absorb all that had occurred. Mr Phelps (her father's only hope) was currently at Longbourn, waiting patiently to see Mr Bennet, Darcy loved her and it presently seemed as though he could get along very well with her mother! The lady could not prevent herself from beaming as she watched the once haughty man smile timidly, though charmingly down at her mother. What is this, Lizzie? Are you actually proud to be seen with this fine man and show him off to Mama? "How can we ever thank you for what you have done for us?" Mrs Bennet asked giddily with another shake of her handkerchief. "And for Mr Bennet?" The gentleman spoke as he turned slightly to catch Elizabeth's eye and produced a small but meaningful smile, which the lady could not help but blush under.

"I am sure we shall imagine a way, Mrs Bennet."

Chapter 25

Mr Phelps removed his glasses with a melancholic sigh as the gentleman simultaneously turned to face Elizabeth. The lady had placed herself anxiously by her father ever since she had directed the physician to Mr Bennet and now, after ten minutes of thorough examination, he did not seem too optimistic. The elder gentleman smiled sadly as he observed the apprehension in her face.

"I am afraid it is not too hopeful, Miss Bennet," He spoke with gentle empathy. "But perhaps you may find some consolation that I have seen worse cases then your father's to recover..." The gentleman paused. "But I do not wish to fill you with any false hope." Elizabeth nodded slowly in painful understanding.

"Your honesty is greatly appreciated, Sir," She said, attempting to control her voice as she gazed down upon Mr Bennet's pale complexion. This can not be so... there has to be some other method... "Is... is there anything else you could do for him?" The good doctor looked doubtful, but also had a peculiar sense of hope in his tone.

"There are a few more procedures I would like to attempt, with your permission, Miss Bennet." She nodded with desperate hope.

"Please do anything you believe will be of help," she said with soft urgency, making sure she was hushed so not to disturb the sleeping Darcy in her chair, as she glanced back to him. Let him sleep, Lizzie, though you wish dreadfully to wake him. He most probably has not slept in days... and yet was still so wonderful in assisting me in remaining by father....

"Now, Miss Bennet, may I ask a favour of you?" Elizabeth blinked her aching eyes in some curiosity as she turned back to the physician.

"Anything, Mr Phelps." With an almost paternal smile, he spoke.

"Get some rest. Your love for your father is truly endearing but it is not healthy for you to stay by his side twenty-four hours each and every day."

"But, Mr Phelps..." He put a hand up to halt the lady's speech.

"No, Miss Bennet. Some truly believe my medical advice is quite sound," He spoke with slight jest, though his tired eyes showed his actual exhausted nature. He was a good man. Elizabeth looked back to Mr Bennet warily... what if she were not here if he woke? Mr Phelps graced her with a compassionate look. "I shall care for him, Miss Elizabeth, and besides, I would not be a worthy friend to Darcy if I allowed you to nurse your father till frailty." At length surrendering, Elizabeth stood and placed a kiss upon Mr Bennet's hand and she softly whispered.

"I shall return soon, Papa." With a grateful smile at Mr Phelps and one last long look back at Darcy, the lady slowly exited the room and headed towards her own. Convincing herself she was not tired, Elizabeth curled into her bed and unconsciously found herself thinking of Darcy. She contemplated that the gentleman still had not explained why he was scarred, and it appeared to the lady that he was almost wishing to evade the subject. What happened to him in London? Why has he not...? Nonetheless, before Elizabeth could even complete that thought, she fell fast asleep.

***

"Lizzie! Lizzie wake up!"

Elizabeth could heed Lydia's excited and almost frantic words but the lady merely moaned as she turned to her side, for sleep refused to depart and she honestly did not wish it to. "Lizzie...!" Her sister cried louder and was forced to physically attempt to wake Elizabeth by incessant shaking.

"Lydia, what is it...?" She asked sleepily, though her eyes were still closed and her arms continued to embrace her pillow.

"We have a guest...! And Mama is insisting we are all present to welcome him, but you are asleep!" A guest...? O, who could have such inopportune timing!? Ultimately attempting to open her eyes, Elizabeth averted their vulnerability from the glorious sunshine Lydia produced once loudly opening the curtains. Before Elizabeth could even prompt her sister on whom this guest was, Lydia swiftly hurried from the room as speedily as she had first entered it. With a groan and a sigh, Elizabeth pulled her still exhausted self from underneath her covers and glanced in the vague direction of her mantle clock. My God!!! Why had not anyone woken her sooner? With a mad dash about her room, the lady dressed and washed, then descended in quite a record time down the staircase and hurriedly towards the main sitting room.

Elizabeth entered the living room as promptly as she could. On opening the door, the sound of excitable chatter could be heard, which was predominantly lead by her mother and very soon ceased as all eyes turned to the late Miss Bennet's arrival. Jane, Mary, Kitty and Lydia sat by the table and embroidered handkerchiefs, bonnets and the like whilst Bingley, Darcy and their caller sat by the fireplace with Mrs Bennet; all members provided Elizabeth with a smile. Darcy's eyes were automatically drawn to the door when the lady had entered, for he had been awaiting her appearance for quite several agonising hours. Her excited eyes did additionally seek his primarily and once they did, both lady and gentleman smiled bashfully at one another then looked away.

"There you are, Lizzie!" Mrs Bennet cried with a smile then turned to the gentleman to her side. "This is our cousin, Mr Collins. Who will inherit Longbourn after your father's death." Elizabeth, whom had heard a lot on the subject of this gentleman from her father (and the lady recalled how they had laughed heartily together at his letters) could not prevent herself from looking displeased. With father's present condition, it is no wonder you are here, Sir! I am sure you eagerly await his death...! However, the lady had to remind herself of her manners and additionally that this was the entailing law; it did no good to disapprove of it when it could not be changed. Mrs Bennet's manner infuriated Elizabeth further more, but she could understand her behaviour - this man seemed to hold everyone (but Jane's) livelihood in his grasp. Being motioned by her mother to pour the tea, Elizabeth obediently nodded and again cast a quick look back upon Darcy. He was sat between the quite sweaty Mr Collins and the smiling Mr Bingley and looking quite distracted by Mr Collins's pattern of speech and conversation. Did Elizabeth honestly see her reserved Fitzwilliam Darcy twisting his mouth to impede a smile? Wait Lizzie... did you just call him your Fitzwilliam Darcy...? Filling Mr Collins's teacup to the very brim, Elizabeth did not notice the scowl upon Darcy's face. The lady also did not notice that Darcy scowled at the quite infatuated look upon William Collins's face as he looked up at the second eldest Bennet girl. Why is he staring upon my Elizabeth so? ...But she is not your Elizabeth, Darcy. Why don't you ask her right now for her hand? Darcy paused. Because she is presently pouring tea and we are in attendance with all her family. You must find a moment alone with her, man. I truly believe if you deter this any further, Darcy, you shall go quite mad...! Elizabeth quite embarrassingly turned to fill Darcy's cup and the gentleman's penetrating gaze and nearness only caused further blushing. Her closeness also affected Darcy greatly and he could do nothing but stare at her glowing face in wonderment. She struggled to not meet his adoring stare, for she knew if she did she would grow completely distracted! In fact, both were so diverted by the other that Elizabeth did not take notice that Darcy was speaking with their newly arrived guest and Darcy himself seemed to forget the gentleman entirely! Elizabeth also turned to look at their ill-timed visitor as he gushed compliments in a rather degrading fashion to a quite unfocused Fitzwilliam.

"...yes, Sir. And may I say how honoured I am to be in your presence, for Lady Catherine's praise has been to the utmost and highest degree...!" Mr Collins stopped to smile nervously and wipe his sweaty upper lip. Darcy's gaze caught Elizabeth's laughing one as she continued to very slowly fill the empty cup in his hand and they could only suppress smiles at the idiocy of this greasy gentleman. Elizabeth bit her lip and raised her widened eyes at the reserved gentleman whenever Mr Collins said something particularly foolish, and Darcy could only attempt to conceal his laughter with a none too convincing cough.

"Mr Darcy, are you quite well? Have you acquired a cold?" Elizabeth asked as she still poured, completely expressionless, though her eyes twinkled in that familiar amusement Darcy had so grown to love. Darcy could only give her a shocked glance in reply, though his tight-lipped smile failed to leave. However, Fitzwilliam Darcy was not the only gentleman looking upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet with such interest.

Ah, she seems all goodness to care so much for a mere guest's health...! Mr Williams Collins thought with a meditative smile as Elizabeth smiled at Darcy yet again. Oh, yes. She will do very well indeed...

Chapter 26

Elizabeth rapped upon the door of her father's room lightly. Once Mr Phelps gave the lady permission to enter, she opened the heavy and creaking door and beamed at him as she presented the cup of tea in her hand.

"How does he do, Sir?" She asked anxiously. Taking a well-deserved sip of the hot liquid, Mr Phelps bestowed the lady with a small smile after a extensive sigh.

"Well, Miss Elizabeth. I believe some little progress was made." Well, what did you expect, Liz- Did he say progress?

"Did he wake?" She inquired in eager breathlessness, although would have been distraught if this had indeed occurred when she was (for once!) not in attendance.

"While I was checking his reflexes, your father moved his arm from beside him to across his chest," Mr Phelps talked as though nothing had happened! Elizabeth's eyes widened and she finally found her voice whilst smiling quite nonsensically to herself!

"Well... is this not a satisfactory symptom? Does it not mean he is on the road to recovery?" Mr Phelps could not prevent from smiling faintly at her excited and hopeful eyes.

"He was in a quite comatose state, Miss Elizabeth," the gentleman said as he sat back down, looking quite spent. "I can only see this as a good sign, and perhaps, if we are thinking optimistically, he may wake soon." Rotating back to Mr Bennet, Elizabeth noticed the arm that was draped casually over his torso and reached over to bring his hand to her face. After a few seconds, the lady replaced it back to its position for she did not wish to deplore and forget the 'little progress' that was made. She grinned back at Mr Phelps as she noticed him smiling faintly at her actions and actually shook his hand in her gratitude. There was so much she owed this man! And even more did she owe to Darcy for bringing him to Longbourn. With a small goodbye to Mr Phelps just prior to her exiting, Elizabeth remembered that she was still needed to 'entertain' their guest downstairs. The lady knew, from previous experience, to not judge by first impressions for it usually did not do anyone any justice... however, Mr Collins was the type of man she was sure she would not grow to like. Of course, he was not a bad man and she was sure had done no truly vicious ill in his life, but the almost conceited 'I flatter myself' manner in which he spoke and his constant looking upon her in such a way coerced Elizabeth to eagerly seek avoidance. Nonetheless, the lady quite reminded herself of how she felt about Mr Darcy previously looking upon her in such a manner. Lizzie, I hardly believe you shall feel for Mr 'small and oily' Collins the intensity of how you feel for Fitzwilliam...! Elizabeth thought of these matters as she began to descend down the stairs, then suddenly paused. With a quick venture into her room, the lady spied herself in the looking glass as she dissatisfiedly began to fix at her appearance. Suddenly, Elizabeth realised her actions and began to quite scold herself. Dear God, Lizzie! Soon you shall become as prone to officer chasing as Lydia and Kitty... However, she came to the comprehension that she truly was not bothered and when the lady was content with her image, gave a small smile and hurried back down the staircase and to the sitting room.

***

"I am quite enchanted and charmed by the amiability of your daughters, Mrs Bennet...!" Mr Collins praised with an almost excitable fidgeting and a smile. Mrs Bennet, whom was always one to greatly appreciate hearing of how well she had achieved as a guardian, beamed quite self-righteously.

"Ah! Thank you Mr Collins. They are sweet girls, though I say it myself." Mr Collins produced an almost conspiratorial expression as he quite gawped upon Elizabeth in the distance, whom wandered freely about the lawn situated at the back of Longbourn Park with a chilly glow to her features and that familiar smile at her lips.

"In particular, Miss Elizabeth..." He did not look upon Mrs Bennet as he almost diffidently spoke so, almost fearful of how the highly-strung lady would respond.

"Ah, Lizzie. Yes, she is often admired!" With a small pause, Mrs Bennet actually stressed upon her next reply! Should she indicate to the gentleman that Lizzie would be most likely engaged soon to Darcy? But this man would own Longbourn at Mr Bennet's (it at present seems quite evident) death... and would Darcy even propose!? It had been a whole day now and that gentleman still had not yet hinted an application of her daughter's hand! It was all quite tiresome...! However, Mrs Bennet would not forget Darcy's fortune so lightly. Ten thousand a year, and perhaps more! And a gentleman of his rank would have a sufficient number of friends with more than healthy incomes... surely three of them would take a shine and partiality to her other daughters? This was not just for the sake of Lizzie, but the marriages of all the Bennet girls...! And the lady also reminded herself that with all that money, she could be graced with her own house, personal carriages and fine materials... and why should she not? Who else should give a hard-working mother these few luxuries but her own wealthy children, whom owed her all they possessed? Nevertheless, she would be compelled to live to see someone take her place as Mistress of Longbourn, and she would have to make way for them as they made themselves quite at home! Oh! This is all too much...! Just remember, Mr Darcy could buy you a hundred Longbourns! And he has such connections! With a contemplative bite of her lip, Mrs Bennet finally answered the anxious and bumbling Collins.

"I should point out, Sir, that it is likely that Lizzie might be very soon engaged." Mr Collins's round, red face sagged and, observing this, Mrs Bennet paused yet again. ...What is wrong with having two suitors? If one fails, we would still have the other...! "But that is not really certain yet, sir." The short look of upset upon William Collin's face vanished quite immediately and he graced her with a wide and quite ridiculous grin. He was one step closer to declare Elizabeth Bennet his wife, the bearer of his children... and Mrs Elizabeth Collins. Looking up to catch Elizabeth still continuing her walk across the park, the gentleman believed it was quite time to begin the wooing and to pay his lovely cousin some due attention.

"Cousin Elizabeth...!" He called as he quickened his clumsy pace towards her direction. The lady, whom turned to the sudden exclaim and the new and very unwanted distraction, shuddered as she saw whom it was and what his obvious attentions were. Quick, Lizzie...! Find an escape! Looking behind her in some desperation, Elizabeth hurried towards the sanctuary of her oak tree as she could heed Mr Collins's frantic wheezing and panting cries slowly die away as she accelerated to a sprint. Being the clumsy and quite unfit creature he was, William Collins had quite given up the chase... managing to only span a quarter of the way! Stopping to catch his breath and mop his sweaty brow, Mr Collins was filled with even further encouragement. My! So fiery, spirited and healthily young... and merely playing the part of the coy gentlewoman entirely to keep my desires aroused...! Do not be concerned, my lovely Miss Elizabeth; we shall be together for an eternity quite soon enough! Elizabeth sighed breathlessly as she looked back again in the distance, where the small black shape of her persistent suitor stopped and turned back towards the house. Oh... Thank God! I am finally completely alone! The lady could not help but find amusement from the situation as she leaned back upon the tree and giggled to herself whilst fanning her quite flushed and hot face with her hand. Of all suitors, Mr Collins! However, on leaning back she had become conscious that she was indeed not resting upon the tree but a softer surface and yelped slightly as she felt a pair of hands lightly seize her slender waist. The gentleman's scent was unmistakeable and Elizabeth felt her heart flutter and her quite hot face burn further as she felt his breath tickle behind her ear and curls.

"I've been waiting here for some time in the foolish hope I would encounter upon you, Elizabeth." Slowly turning entirely around, though still in his grasp, Elizabeth's eye caught Darcy's as the gentleman smiled softly down at her. He was so terribly close the lady felt quite awkward, though not in the least in an unpleasant sense. At this close range, she could view his face completely and, to quite her own astonishment and shame, quite wished to kiss away the trace of dried blood upon his bottom lip. These are not ladylike thoughts, Elizabeth! Oh, I am beginning to exhibit signs of emerging as corrupt as Mama feared...! With a lowered gaze and a quite desperate need to be distracted by anything in sight, the lady spoke.

"It cannot be too foolish, Sir, for indeed I am here." Her answer was indeed pert, though she was still blushing and her gaze could not meet his for too long a session. After a comfortable silence and finally locking a gaze, she suppressed a smile. "Well... pray, tell me, Sir... why are you so ardently searching for me?" Gracing the lady with that trademark enigmatic smile, (which she could not believe she had ever disliked before!) Darcy presented an envelope from his inside pocket. His mysterious expression and twinkling eyes did not reveal a thing. Involved in both senses of curiosity and anticipation, Elizabeth speedily opened the envelope and then gasped as she witnessed its contents. Looking back up at Darcy in utter disbelief, she could not speak; this act merely induced the gentleman to.

"If you count it all, Elizabeth, there should be the exact amount of money Wickham took from you and the thousand you (most kindly!) approved for me to keep." Elizabeth still could not speak. Was this her money back from Wickham...?

"But how...?" With a smile, Darcy took her hand.

"It is a long story." However, being the passionate and determined Elizabeth Bennet we all know and treasure, the lady would not let the matter rest. Oh no, you do not Fitzwilliam! I have awaited an explanation too long for you to cast it aside and refuse to oblige me...! With a defiant look, though her eyes expressed she was not truly displeased, the lady cocked her head impertinently to one side.

"Then I suggest you tell it, sir." Darcy had missed that almost rebellious streak Elizabeth usually acquired whenever he was present and at this point the gentleman suddenly realised that no matter what this woman executed upon him, he would find himself instead begging for her forgiveness. Dear Lord, Darcy... you are the strong and respected Master of Pemberley whom has suddenly turned into a lovesick schoolboy over a woman! Gesturing for her to sit, the lady promptly did so and he could not prevent from facially betraying his amusement as he was only too sure Miss Caroline Bingley would never sit upon the floor in such a fashion! With a quite serious sigh, and a small pace about the knoll, Darcy spoke almost as a written narrative. Elizabeth smiled softly as she found his contemplating brow and agitated steps endearing.

"On the morning of the day after I found you at Wickham's residence, I left for business with two intentions; to find my friend Mr Fredrick Phelps and, to a lesser extent, to recover Wickham. Jane informed me on the night before that Miss Mary King was the young lady he was attempting to court and pursued to Barnet. On my trip to town I sought a Lord Gallagher, a good associate of my late father's and a gentleman I had myself come to know well... whom also happened to be uncle to Miss King." Darcy paused as Elizabeth listened attentively; he'd expected her to raise a question or interrupt but she merely sat in full attention and wide eyes. His expectant gaze was the element that actually triggered the lady to reply.

"So, a man of your rank does associate with many people." She softly whispered. Darcy sat beside her as he continued and again took her hand into his.

"I told Lord Gallagher of Wickham's true intentions and indecency and I also came across many creditors who were eagerly queuing for and baying for George's blood. Lord Gallagher, in return for my friendly warning, used his influence in the authorities to have Wickham investigated, arrested and eventually charged for his crimes of fraud, theft and many cases of financial evasion. Lord Gallagher then took Miss King to Liverpool until the scandal blew over. And on the shorter matter of Fredrick, I merely paid him a visit one afternoon and he, being the amiable friend he is, immediately followed my lead." Elizabeth shook her head in even more disbelief... it all seemed too much! Darcy had prepared this entire venture to London, had undergone all this trouble and degradation... merely for her sake? His love she knew was strong, but now she believed it to be as sincere and intense as her own; the lady could not have felt more delight! But one question had still not been answered... and Elizabeth intended to know of all its particulars by the end of this tęte-ŕ-tęte.

"What of the cuts Fitzwilliam? You know not how it pains me to see them upon your face." She blushed slightly as she spoke so. Darcy smiled dryly as he raised her palm to his cheek, causing the lady to slightly colour once again.

"Wickham was not too happy to be apprehended, Madam." Elizabeth's mouth dropped open.

"He attacked you?!" That particular gentleman may have struck her... but to hit Fitzwilliam...! It was barbaric!

"Do not worry, Elizabeth," he assured with a knowing and almost teasingly reserved smile. "I am not in half a state as he... Ever since we were boys, I was always the luckier fighting opponent." With her hand still upon his cheek, Elizabeth daringly stroked at it softly and lovingly with her thumb.

"I am sure it is not luck, Fitzwilliam," She gently said, her eyes courageously seeking the love in his own. It did not take Elizabeth Bennet more than a second to find it and to genuinely assure herself that he felt for her as completely as she did for him. Suddenly looking at the sky after a soft rumble of thunder, the couple noticed the threateningly grey clouds begin to fog overhead. All the inhabitants of Longbourn seemed to have already entered back into the shelter of the house. Helping the lady to her feet, Darcy extended his arm and they walked back to the house contentedly smiling at the other. From the window of the house, Mrs Bennet observed the gazes between them and sighed with complete satisfaction. It was only a matter of time before Darcy proposed... she was sure of it! However, the other witness of the open display of affection was not so pleased with observing it. His eyes narrowed and his greasy lips tightened into a pout and at that moment he decided that he would have to ask for her hand as soon as he possibly could.

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